The display gave them a crisp picture of the lander, as well as the rim of the Moon.

Matt drank his coffee, talked with reporters, talked with people who’d just wandered in to watch, talked with Rudy. Rudy congratulated him for coming up with the idea to use the lander. “Wish we’d thought of it earlier,” he said.

Exactly on time, Henry informed them the ship was about to make its jump. “I will be in touch with you this afternoon,” he said. “At seventeen minutes after three. Give or take a few minutes.”

Then it wasn’t there anymore. The last thing Matt saw was the MacElroy fourmaster emblazoned on its hull.

Jon pulled the recordings up, and they studied the images during the seconds before transit. The lander remained clear and bright as the time ran down to tenths of a second. They went through it methodically, moment to moment. The lander looked okay. No twisting or collapsing this time. No indication of any problem.

They looked at one another, and Jon ran it again. Slower. Hundredths of a second. And again it simply winked off. Between 76/100’s and 77/100’s of a second. No bending. No crumpling.

Jon rested his chin on his folded hands. “I think we’ve got it this time, Matt.”

THEY FOUND HUTCHINS seated in the Quarter Moon, talking with a reporter. She introduced him, George Somebody from the Savannah Morning News. “I know you needed a vehicle,” George was saying, “but whichever one of you folks came up with the idea of using the one at the high school was pure genius. And it’s a great way to get students interested in science.”

“Here’s the guy,” said Hutchins, nodding at Matt. “He’s been contributing his time to the school off and on for years.”

Matt tried not to look too pleased. George asked a few questions, mostly about how the school became involved. “Creative teachers,” he said. “And Myra Castle.”

“Who?”

“A school board member who cares.” He had a hard time delivering that one with a straight face, but he did his best.

“Okay,” said George. “Good.”

“Something else,” said Jon. “We got some kids interested in what we’ve been doing these last few weeks. If some of them go on to careers in the sciences, maybe that will have been enough.”

George turned off his recorder. He looked at Jon and smiled. “You don’t really mean that, but I like the sentiment.” He thanked them, saw someone else, and hurried away.

Matt turned back to Jon. “That will have been enough? Are you serious?”

“Am I serious?” said Jon. “Listen, Matthew, I want to hear that signal come in at three o’clock. It’s all I really care about.”

Matt sighed and looked at the overhead. “Whatever happened to simple honesty?”

“It’s all PR,” said Hutchins. “If we ever produced a person who was unrelentingly honest, everybody would want him dead.”

At the far end of the dining room, a bank of clocks showed the time in Tokyo, Paris, Berlin, London, New York, and Rome. Union was officially on GMT, but visitors were free to maintain whatever time zone they wanted. All services operated on a twenty-four-hour schedule. Restaurants could always provide breakfast or dinner or a nightcap.

The Locarno experiment was running on Washington time, where it was just after noon.

They collected more reporters and some MacElroy students, but Jon and Hutchins were both good at dealing with them, so Matt relaxed and enjoyed the show. Hutchins pointed out to several of the kids that “Jon’s device” might one day take them to the far side of the galaxy.

One of the kids wondered if we’d ever be able to go to Andromeda.

“Who knows?” she said. “Maybe.”

Everyone they met wanted to know whether the Locarno would work this time.

Jon inevitably shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

THE ORIGINAL PLAN had been to retreat to Matt’s room after lunch, but things went so well in the restaurant that, with the encouragement of management, they stayed. People began coming in from the concourse to shake their hands and wish them well. Rudy wandered in and bought a round of drinks.

Janet Allegri called Hutchins to wish her luck. The name struck a chord with Matt, but he couldn’t place her until Hutchins explained. She was part of the original mission that had uncovered the omegas. She’d written a best-selling account of those events.

Strangers asked for autographs, took pictures, introduced their kids.

Matt knew he should have been enjoying himself. But he’d have preferred the good times after he was assured of success. This was premature. “Better to do it now,” said Hutch, in a moment of cold honesty. “Might not be able to later.”

When it got close to three, they broke away and, trailing kids and reporters, went down to the lower deck and made for the observation area. This time there was no plan for an actor’s voice announcing good news from Pluto, or whatever the message was to have been. When the transmission arrived, a white auxiliary lamp mounted on the panel would switch on. That would be it.

A small crowd waited. And if the tension had been missing earlier, it was present now. People shook their hands and made way as they entered. One of the kids, seated in Jon’s chair, hurriedly evacuated. Others made room for Matt and Hutchins.

The room became quiet, except for whispered comments. They sure the radio beam has enough energy to get here?

I don’t think I realized Pluto was that far.

Matt’s eyes drifted shut. He was tired. Not sleepy. Too rattled to be sleepy, but he had no energy left. He wanted it to be over.

It was 3:03. Fourteen minutes to go. Matt thought how it would be to return the lander to the school after a successful test. He’d circle the school a couple of times and, while a cheering crowd watched, set it down in its accustomed place. Get out and shake everyone’s hand.

He held the picture in his head, replaying it, and finally opened his eyes. It was 3:04.

The launch bay was nearly empty. Only two ships were visible. While he stared through the viewport, not even aware he was doing so, somebody took his picture. One of the MacElroy science teachers. “Hope you don’t mind,” she said. And whispered good luck. A few people hurried through the doors, fearful they were late.

He looked around to see Hutchins watching him. She smiled as their eyes connected. Mouthed the words Almost there.

Jon was holding on to his coffee cup, not drinking any of it, just hanging on while his gaze wandered around the room. It swept across Matt, not pausing, not reacting. Whatever facade he’d been using, it was gone now. Only one thing mattered.

Somebody put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Julie. She hadn’t been there earlier. “Hi, Matt,” she said. “Big day, huh?”

There was a fudge factor. No way to be sure precisely how far the lander might have traveled. The signal could be as much as a minute early. Or a minute late. Probably no more than that.

Could be anytime now.

Everybody was watching the signal lamp.

He became aware of a barely audible heartbeat in the deck and bulkheads, rhythms set off by the systems that supplied power to the station.

One of the kids giggled.

A chair scraped.

Jon seemed not to be breathing.

A girl whispered, “Stop.”

Then it was 3:17.

Matt looked at the lamp. It was one of several status lights set in a vertical row. Six of them altogether. The one he was watching was four from the top.

Then it was plus thirteen seconds.

Fourteen.

Fifty-two.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them, about a minute later, the lamp was still unlit.

TABLOID ROUNDUP

PSYCHIC SAYS INFERNAL FORCES BLOCKED STAR DRIVE TEST

Josh Coburn, the celebrated psychic from Havertown, PA., said today that dark forces are at work to ensure that humans do not succeed in making long-range penetration into the greater galaxy.