He took the shuttle from Reagan the day before their scheduled departure. Rudy was on the same flight, and he was like a kid. He kept talking about how he’d been looking forward to this his whole life, and that he still couldn’t believe it was happening. He extracted a promise from Matt that, as soon as they’d gotten checked into their hotel, they’d go down and inspect the Preston.

The flight to Union lasted less than ninety minutes. When they docked, Matt led the way out, walking with studied casualness, as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

An AI informed them of their room numbers, and their baggage showed up a few minutes after they did. Matt would have preferred to shower and change, but Rudy was anxious to go. So they went.

The Preston wasn’t much to look at. It had been in service too long. It was battered by two many chunks of rock and scored by cosmic dust. A pair of devices that resembled scanners had been added to the bow. These were scramblers, which would manipulate the space-time continuum, drive a wedge into it, and allow the ship to slide between dimensions.

The words PROMETHEUS FOUNDATION were emblazoned on the hull, with the organization’s symbol, a lamp and flame. “It’s appropriate,” said Rudy, looking through a twenty-foot-wide portal.

“What is?” asked Matt.

“Prometheus. The fire-bringer.”

Jon appeared at the main hatch, waved, and came up the tube to the concourse. He was all smiles. “Good to see you guys,” he said. “Matt, I think you’re going to like your new ship.”

“Is it ready to go?” Matt asked.

“They’re still tightening a few bolts and whatnot. But yes, it’s all set.”

“Can we take a look?” asked Rudy.

“Sure.” Jon stood aside to let Rudy enter the tube first.

“Beautiful ship.” Rudy’s eyes literally bulged. The tube was transparent, and they could look out at the docking area. The Preston was secured to magnetic clamps.

Only one other ship was in port. The place was designed to service eighteen.

“Time was,” said Matt, “it would have been filled.”

Rudy produced an imager. He took pictures of the Preston, pictures of Matt and Jon, handed the device to Matt and posed with Jon for more pictures. “I’ve been up here a good bit,” he said. “Even been inside the Preston a few times. But this is different.”

Matt clapped him on the shoulder, and they went through the hatch into the ship. Matt had already been on board during the refitting. He’d familiarized himself with the controls, gotten on first-name terms with Phyllis, the AI, and was anxious to launch.

Rudy strode onto the bridge and sat down in the pilot’s chair. “Nice feeling,” he said.

Matt agreed. He felt fifteen years younger.

Rudy pressed his fingertips against the control board. “How long did you say it was going to take to get there?”

“To Alioth?” asked Jon.

“Yes.”

“Five and a half hours.”

“My God, I still can’t believe it. It used to take”—he consulted his notebook—“more than a week.”

Matt had been there once, years ago. “Eight days,” he said, “two hours, eleven minutes in transit.”

Rudy was enjoying himself. “How long would it take us to get to Alpha Centauri?”

“About twenty minutes,” said Matt. “A little less, probably.”

MATT WAS TOO excited to sleep that night. He was up at about five, took almost two hours for breakfast, talked to some reporters, had coffee with Rudy in Cappy’s, talked to more reporters, and called Jon, who was with the technicians. “If they aren’t finished yet,” Matt remarked, “it’s not a good sign.”

But Jon was in the best of moods. “It’s not their fault,” he said. “You’re never really finished calibrating something like this.”

Antonio Giannotti wandered into the restaurant. Matt recognized him immediately, would have known him even if Rudy hadn’t alerted him he was coming. He was a muscular guy, average height, with a craggy face and the sort of beard favored by mad scientists. He looked bigger on the HV. Originally from Rome, he’d run the Dr. Science show from there, where he’d played his role wrapped in a white lab coat. He didn’t look much older than he had in those days. Rudy waved him over, introduced him, and Matt felt a bit awed in his presence.

What had happened to Dr. Science? One year, when Matt was about thirteen, he just suddenly wasn’t there anymore.

“It was a job with no future,” Antonio said. “I had nowhere to go from there.”

“I would have thought you could have done anything. You were great.”

“The science was great. I wanted to be a comedian.”

Matt could still recall his disappointment when Dr. Science disappeared. Along with his discovery he couldn’t hit a decent curveball, it had marked what he thought of as his arrival at the beginning of adulthood. Being a teen, he would think later, wasn’t all hormones and good times. There were some losses. Inevitably, there were always losses.

More reporters arrived, from the Post and Nature. He and Antonio were talking with them when Hutch called. “Where are you, Matt?”

“Cappy’s,” he said.

“Save me a seat.”

A few minutes later she walked in. The Post and Nature didn’t recognize her. “My understanding,” said the Post, “is that the drive system is not only much more efficient, but it’s safer than the Hazeltine. Is that true?”

“It’s less complex. Fewer things can go wrong.”

“How close was Barber to solving these issues?” asked Nature. “Does he get the credit? Or is it Jon Silvestri who did the brute work?”

Time was, Matt thought, Hutch would have been the center of attention.

Yesterday’s news.

“One of them, the guy with the muscles,” Matt told her, “is making the flight with us. He’s a pool reporter.”

“Good. Publicity never hurts.” She turned those dark eyes on him. “Matt, I wanted to come by to wish you luck.”

“Jon tells me you don’t want to come.”

“Yeah. I’m a little busy.”

“But not too busy to run up here?” She was silent. He let it play out. Then: “Wish you were coming?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said.

“We have room.”

“I didn’t bring my gear.”

“What gear? We’ll be back tonight.”

“Matt, I’d love to, but—”

“But what? You have anything pressing to do today or tomorrow?” He could see some sort of internal struggle going on.

“Not really. I just—”

“Yeah?”

“—don’t—”

“—don’t what?”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again.”

“Why?”

She hesitated. “My family, I guess.”

“Aren’t your kids both away at school?”

“Yes.”

“Not that it matters. You’ll be home tonight if you want to make the late run down to Reagan.” Matt paused, then added, “And we make the world’s best return jump.” After they arrived insystem, they’d still have to use the main engines to come the rest of the way in. It could take a while.

“Alioth and back in a few hours.”

“Yes.” Matt couldn’t resist a broad smile. “Welcome to the new world, Priscilla.”

LIKE MATT, SHE’D made a flight to Alioth once, years ago, hauling a team of researchers. When they got there, they’d spent three weeks insystem. The three weeks hadn’t been bad, because the researchers were busy taking temperatures and charting orbits, leaving her to read and watch shows. It had been painful nonetheless. That crowd, the Alioth crowd, had been hopelessly dull, and they’d spent much of their time trying to impress her. It hadn’t helped that she herself had been quite young then, just starting her career, and not very bright.

That had been the mission during which an additional star had been discovered in the system. It had been a big event, setting the researchers into a celebration that had gone on, in one form or another, for several days. She’d been dismissive of it, informing one of them that it wasn’t as if there was a shortage of stars. It turned out that the discovery accounted for a series of orbital anomalies. It meant little to her. In those days she was hard to impress. Probably every bit as dull as the researchers.