“She will forgive you,” said Ponter. “Forgiveness is a Christian virtue.”

“Qaiser’s not Christian; she’s Muslim.” Mary frowned, embarrassed by her own ignorance. Did Muslims hold forgiveness in high regard, too? But, no, no. That didn’t matter. If the situation were reversed, could Mary really have forgiven Qaiser?

“What are we going to do?” said Mary.

“About the rapist? Whatever we can, whenever we can.”

“No, no. Not about the rapist. About tomorrow. About Two becoming One.”

“Ah,” said Ponter. “Yes.”

“Jasmel will be spending all her time with Tryon, won’t she?”

Ponter grinned. “Oh, yes, indeed.”

“And you just saw Megameg.”

“I can never see her enough—but I take your point.”

“And that leaves…”

Ponter sighed. “That leaves Daklar.”

“What are you going to do?”

Ponter considered. “I have already violated tradition by coming into the Center a day early. I suppose it will not compound matters significantly if I go see Daklar now.”

Mary’s heart jumped. “Alone?”

“Yes,” said Ponter. “Alone.”

Ponter stood outside the door to Daklar’s office, trying to summon his courage. He felt like he was back in the Gliksin world; every female he’d passed on the way here had stared at him as though he didn’t belong.

And, indeed, he did not—not here, not until tomorrow. But this couldn’t wait. Still, despite having turned it over in his mind repeatedly on the long walk in from the Alibi Archive Pavilion, he had no idea how to begin. Perhaps—

Suddenly, the door to Daklar’s office folded aside. “Ponter!” she exclaimed. “I thought I smelled you!”

She opened her arms, preparing to receive him, and he stepped into the hug. But she must have felt the stiffness in his back. “What is it?” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“May I come in?” asked Ponter.

“Yes, of course.” She retreated into her office—semicircular, half the hollowed-out core of a massive tree—and Ponter followed, closing the door behind him.

“I will not be here, on this world, for Two becoming One.”

Daklar’s eyes went wide. “Have you been called back to the other Earth? Is something wrong there?”

Ponter knew the things wrong there were beyond enumerating, but he shook his head. “No.”

“Then, Ponter, your daughters will want to see you.”

“Jasmel won’t want to see anyone but Tryon.”

“And Mega?”

Ponter nodded. “She will be saddened, yes.”

“And—me?”

Ponter closed his eyes for a moment.

“I am sorry, Daklar. I am very sorry.”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” said Daklar. “That Gliksin woman.”

“Her name is”—and Ponter fervently wished he could defend her properly, wished he could pronounce her name correctly “—is Mare.”

But Daklar seized upon the issue. “Listen to yourself! You can’t even say her real name! Ponter, it can never work between the two of you. You’re from different worlds—she’s not even one of us!”

Ponter lifted his shoulders. “I know, but…”

Daklar let out a massive sigh. “But you’re going to try. Gristle, Ponter, you men never cease to amaze me. You’ll stick it in anything.”

Ponter flashed back 229 months, back to when he’d been at the Science Academy with Adikor, back when they’d had that stupid fight, back when he’d provoked Adikor so much that he’d launched his fist toward Ponter’s face. He’d long ago forgiven Adikor, but now, finally he understood, understood being so enraged that violence seemed the only alternative.

He turned around and stormed out of the building, looking for something to destroy.

Mary and Ponter returned to the quantum-computing facility. Waiting for them there was a distinguished-looking 143 male, whom Ponter immediately recognized. “Goosa Kusk,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“Thank you,” said Goosa. “I heard about that nasty business in the other world—you getting shot with some sort of projectile weapon, and all that.”

Ponter nodded.

“Well, Lonwis Trob contacted me and suggested an idea for preventing such a thing from happening again. His suggestion was interesting, but I have decided to go another way with it.” He picked up a long, flat metal object from a table. “This is a force-field generator,” he said. “It detects any incoming projectile as soon as it enters your Companion’s sensor field, and, within nanoseconds, throws up an electrostrong force barrier. The barrier is only about three handspans wide, and only lasts for about a quarter of a beat—anything longer would take too much power. But it is completely inelastic, and completely impenetrable. Whatever strikes it will bounce right off. If someone shoots you with one of those metal projectiles, the barrier will deflect it. It will also deflect spears, knife thrusts, fast punches, and so on. Anything moving slower than a preset rate does not trigger the barrier, so it will not interfere with people touching you or you touching them. But it will mean that if another Gliksin wants to try to kill you, it is going to have to come up with a better method.”

“Wow,” said Mary. “That’s amazing.”

Goosa shrugged. “It is science.” He turned back to Ponter. “Here, it straps onto your forearm on the opposite side of the Companion, see?” Ponter held out his left arm, and Goosa attached the device. “And this fiber-optic lead connects to your Companion’s expansion jack—like so.”

Mary looked at it in wonder. “It’s like a personal air bag,” she said. Then, noting Goosa’s expression, “I don’t mean that it works the same way—air bags are safety restraints that inflate almost instantly in high-speed automobile collisions. But it’s sort of the same principle—a fast-deploying safety shield.” She shook her head. “You could make a fortune selling these on my Earth.”

But Goosa shook his head. “For my people, these devices treat the underlying problem: your people shooting us with guns. For your people, they would merely be a palliative. The real solution is not to protect against guns, but to get rid of them.”

Mary smiled. “I’d love to see you debate Charlton Heston.”

“This is wonderful,” said Ponter. “You are sure it works?” He saw Goosa’s expression. “No, of course it does. Sorry I asked.”

“I have already shipped eleven of these through to our contingent still on the other side,” Goosa said. He paused. “One often wishes another a safe journey. That is ensured now. So, instead, I will merely wish you a pleasant trip.”

Mary and Ponter headed down the tunnel, crossing the threshold between universes. On the other side, Lieutenant Donaldson, the same Canadian Forces officer Ponter had met previously, greeted them. “Welcome back, Envoy Boddit. Welcome home, Professor Vaughan.”

“Thank you,” said Ponter.

“We weren’t quite sure when, or if, you’d be coming back across,” Donaldson said. “You’ll have to give us a little time to arrange for bodyguards. What’s your destination? Toronto? Rochester? The UN?”

Ponter looked at Mary. “We have not decided,” he said.

“Well, we’ll have to work out an itinerary—make sure you have proper protection at all times. There’s a liaison from CSIS at Sudbury police headquarters now, and—”

“No,” said Ponter simply.

“I—I beg your pardon?” said Donaldson.

Ponter reached into one of the spare pouches on his medical belt and removed his Canadian passport. “Does this not allow me free access to this country?” he said.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Am I not a Canadian citizen?”

“Yes, you are, sir. I saw the ceremony on TV.”

“And are not citizens free to come and go as they please, without armed escort?”

“Well, normally, but this—”

“This is normal,” said Ponter. “This is normal from now on: people from my world passing into your world, and people from your world passing into mine.”