Finally, Mildred absorbed what he was saying. She sat back in her chair and looked at him disbelievingly. "Well… what do I say? I knew I'd come to the right person."

"Does that mean you're agreeable?"

"It'll be a bit of a rush getting organized at this kind of notice… But of course. As you said, a writer's chance of a lifetime."

"Splendid. It calls for a bottle of wine, don't you think?" Danchekker turned his head from side to side, searching for a waiter.

"I thought you didn't drink," Mildred said.

Danchekker pursed his lips for a moment, then shrugged. "There are moments in life when a rare exception might be permitted," he replied.

He was still cackling to himself an hour later, when he paid the cabbie off at Goddard, having dropped Mildred at her hotel on the way back to begin making her arrangements.

A friend of Hunt's named Rita, who was widowed, attractive, sophisticated, and, remarkably, unattached, ran a Turkish-cuisine restaurant that he visited from time to time in Silver Spring. A couple of months previously, she had prevailed upon him to escort her to a wedding she had been invited to of an old friend from college days. It had all gone very pleasantly, and he in turn enlisted her as his dinner companion for Owen's retirement dinner at the Carnarvon. She appeared promptly when he collected her shortly after six o'clock, tall and shapely, her honey-blond hair worn high, and wearing a white stole over a sparkling orange gown, high-necked and sleeveless, Oriental style. "Susie Wong tonight, are we?" Hunt quipped as she took his arm to walk to the airmobile that he had arrived in-rented.

"It goes with the tuxedo image of this James Bondish-looking Englishman. Are you packing a gun, too?"

"I knew I'd forgotten something." Hunt saw her in to the passenger seat, closed the door, and walked around to the driver's side.

"Is it going to be stuffy and horribly technical with all those scientists and UNSA people?" Rita asked as he climbed in.

Hunt okayed the destination for the flight computer and started the turbine, taking an unnaturally long time to reply. The announcement he was due to make was going to be public knowledge soon enough anyway, he started to tell himself. But on the other hand, there was such a thing as professional decorum. He would be left in an awkward situation if he started going into it now, and Owen had second thoughts. "Oh, I think you'll find it interesting enough," was all he said finally.

They were among the early arrivals at the reception, but the room filled quickly. Caldwell arrived with his wife, Maeve, and had also brought Mitzi, his secretary, and her husband. Danchekker showed up on his own, looking about as at home in black-tie attire as an ostrich in ballet tights. Hunt and Rita did the requisite social round, swapping shop and small talk, meeting the two visitors from Geneva, and paying their respects to Owen. Rita carried it all through with poise, fitting in easily and naturally in a way that warmed everyone they talked to. Hunt found himself wondering, not for the first time, if he should be thinking seriously about settling into a more conventional role and finding himself a permanent companion in life. By all the criteria that were supposed to matter, he wouldn't do any better than this person clinging to his arm and captivating his colleagues right now-even Danchekker. And yet… He couldn't put a finger on just what it was that didn't feel right. Deciding there was an empty slot in life and looking around for someone to fill it didn't seem to be the way. The right person would make their own slot. Or was it that for someone of his restless, loner disposition, compulsively changing his life whenever it threatened to close in by becoming too secure and predictable, there couldn't be a "right" person?

They were seated at the table presided over by Caldwell, which also included Danchekker, Owen, and the two Europeans. The conversation came around to what Owen planned to do with his time now. Owen said he was going to write an autobiography, giving his account of the extraordinary events that UNSA had been involved in during his time of office. Caldwell agreed that an insider's story was needed. Did Owen know that Danchekker had a cousin who wrote books? No, Owen didn't. Caldwell looked across at Danchekker. "In fact, isn't she visiting here right now, Chris?"

"Doing research for a book on the Thuriens," Mitzi put in.

"It must be very fortunate for her to have such an authority on the subject as her cousin," Maeve commented.

Danchekker looked flattered but sighed regretfully. "It appears, however, that our professional association is to be short lived," he informed the table. "Cousin Mildred is a woman of considerable resourcefulness. She has contrived to avail herself of a far more comprehensive repository of materials than anything I could hope to provide: Thurien itself, no less."

"You mean via a virtual travel hookup?" Owen said. Much of the Thuriens' business among worlds was effected by bringing information from the destination to the "travelers," rather than the other way around. Sensor data derived from the source was imparted into their neural systems in a way that made the experience indistinguishable from actually being at the remote location. Neurocouplers connecting into the Thurien system had been installed at several locations on Earth, including Goddard.

Danchekker shook his head as he took a spoonful of soup. "No, she's actually going."

"Really? To Thurien?" Rita exclaimed. "What an experience!"

"One of their vessels is leaving here to return, somewhere around a week from now, I understand," Danchekker confirmed. "She has a reservation on it."

"It's unbelievable," Leonard, one of the Europeans, said, taking in the table in general. "There isn't anything like having to pay a fare. You just ask them. If there's room, they'll take you."

"So we won't be seeing very much of Mildred after all, Professor," Maeve concluded.

"Tragically so, I fear." Danchekker returned a solemn nod. Hunt saw Caldwell look at him keenly for a second or two, as if about to take the subject further; but then he caught Hunt's eye and turned to say something to Sarah, the other European, instead.

Hunt looked across at Owen, cocking his head in a way that singled him out from the general talk. "Are you still happy for me to talk about it, Owen?" he asked. "It's still not too late to change if you've had second thoughts. We can make the news an official release tomorrow. It's your call."

"Well, yes I have thought some more about it," Owen replied. For a moment Hunt thought that he had changed his mind. But Owen went on, "What I'd like to do is make the broad announcement myself, in my acknowledgment speech. Then I can hand over to you to fill in the details. What do you think?"

"Even better," Hunt said. "This is your show. Go over with a bang, eh?"

"What's this?" Rita asked. She kept her voice low, picking up their tenor. "Are we in for some news tonight?"

"You'll see," Hunt answered. "I said you'd find it interesting." Rita raised her eyebrows and smiled resignedly in a way that said she could wait.

But Caldwell, who rarely missed anything, waved a hand for him to carry on. "It's okay, Vic," he said. "We're only talking about a few minutes from now. And it'll be public before tonight's out, anyway." Hunt looked inquiringly toward Owen. Owen shrugged, indicating that it was fine by him. Hunt looked back at Rita.

"I got an unusual phone call the other day," he told her.

"Oh?"

"Do you know much about quantum physics and alternate Multiverse realities?"

Rita regarded him reproachfully. "I thought you said it wouldn't get technical."

"Trust me. This will be worth it."