“Matt’s pictures aren’t as clear as ours,” he said.

“That’s because they’re farther away.”

“Phyl? Is that the only reason?”

“The range accounts for some of the blurring. But not all of it. The image they sent should be more defined.”

“Maybe the scope took a few seconds to focus,” said Antonio.

“That’s enough for me,” said Matt. “I’m for starting back.”

“I guess,” said Hutch.

“Smart move.” Jon was trying to sound disappointed, trying to mask his enthusiasm for turning around. “I don’t think we want to give that thing a shot at us.”

“It’s lighting up,” said Antonio.

He was referring to patches of the cloud on either side of the eye. “Light globules,” Hutch said. Deep inside somewhere. They were like summer lightning. Or lights coming on in a dark house.

And going off again.

“We ready to go, Hutch?”

And coming back on.

“Hold it a second.”

“You know,” said Matt, “it might be possible to come back here and nuke the thing after all. Get rid of it.”

“Not that it would do us any good,” said Jon.

“How do you mean?”

“We’ve got more than a million years’ worth of omegas already in the pipeline. I mean, we’ve seen seven of them in the last couple of weeks. By the time they could get anywhere near our part of the galaxy, we’ll have evolved into something else. You can forget about the omegas. They’re a done deal, and the galaxy will have to put up with them for a long time.”

Matt didn’t care. “We owe them something. If we do send a mission back to take the things out, I’d like to be here when it happens.”

Antonio was watching the light display. “Matt,” he said, “what makes you think this is the only cloud that’s infested? This area might be a family of the things. Or a colony. I mean, why would there only be one?”

“I think there’s only one,” said Hutch.

“I agree,” said Jon. “There’s a kind of rhythm, a pattern to the release. The omegas explode in a timed sequence, maybe four in Ursa Major, maybe a few months apart. But the same duration between events. Then six somewhere else. Again, same duration.”

“Like a cosmic symphony,” said Hutch.

“Do you still believe that?”

She was surprised that Jon knew about her speculation that the omegas were intended to be a work of art. “Yes,” she said. “It’s a possibility. If there were a colony of critters doing that, I don’t think it could be coordinated the way it is.”

“It could be something else,” said Jon. “Other than a symphony.”

“Like what?”

“A message.”

Hutch thought about it. Tried to make sense of it. “I don’t think I follow.”

“Look at the display.”

Patches of light were still blinking on and off. “What’s your point?”

“Look closer.”

There were several luminous patches in the immediate area of the eye. Four, in fact. They were blinking in sync. On for a couple seconds. And off. On for a couple seconds. And off. Then it stopped.

And started again.

“Antonio,” she said, “I’d like to go back. Get a little closer.”

He wasn’t happy about that, and he let her see. Made a pained expression. Pressed the back of his hand against his mouth and wiped his lips against it. “You want to give this thing a clear shot at us, is that it?”

“Something like that.”

“Hold on,” said Matt. “I don’t think that’s very smart.”

“You wait where you are, Matt. Keep a respectful distance. We’re going to go ahead. Before we change our minds.”

THE CONTROL SYSTEM included a musical tone, a few notes from a pop hit of the period, that the AI could use if she wanted to speak to the pilot privately. The notes sounded.

Hutch frowned.

“What was that?” Antonio asked.

“Report from Phyl,” she said. “Technical stuff.” Then, casually, she pointed at her cup. “Antonio, would you mind getting me some fresh coffee? And maybe some chocolate to go with it.”

“You hungry already?”

“Yes. Please.”

He climbed out of his seat. “Okay. Back in a minute.”

Hutch turned off the speaker and pulled on earphones. “What is it, Phyl?”

“Matt wants to talk to you.”

Oh, Lord. “Put him through.”

A pause, a change in tone, and Matt’s voice: “Hutch?”

“What is it, Matt?”

“Can Antonio hear me?”

“No. But he’ll be back in a minute or so.”

“Okay. Listen, I think this is a seriously bad idea. You’ve got a good chance of getting yourself killed.”

“I know there’s a risk.”

“We’ve already lost Rudy. I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

The cloud was getting bigger. “Neither do I, Matt.” She tapped her fingertips on the control console. “Matt—”

“You’re putting Antonio at risk, too.”

“I know.”

“You’re not supposed to do that, Priscilla. He’s your passenger. His safety is supposed to be paramount.”

“Matt, he understands what the risks are.”

“Does he really? Do you?” For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then he sighed. “I guess it would take more courage to change your mind than to persist.”

“That hurts, Matt.”

“Good. I hope it’s the worst thing that happens to you over there.”

IT WAS AN eye.

The bridge was sealed. The viewports were blocked by the radiation shields, so she couldn’t really see it. On-screen, it was just an eye in a bank of mist. An eye that seemed to be aware of her presence in the ship. That looked out of the screen directly at her.

She maneuvered the Preston to within a few kilometers of the cloud wall, circling so that, when she arrived in front of the eye, she would be parallel to the cloud. If she had to get out of there, she didn’t want to have to turn around first like last time. “Careful,” said Antonio in a whisper.

It was hard to know how deep within the mist the apparition was. “Phyl, do you pick up anything solid in there?”

“Only the eye,” she said.

“You don’t think we could open the viewport covers? Just for a moment?”

“It would be too dangerous, Priscilla. In fact, this entire business strikes me as being imprudent.”

“Thanks, Phyl.”

“I’m not comfortable,” she added.

“I think we’ll be okay, Phyl.”

“I have a life, too, you know.”

The other lights in the wall, the flickering luminosities, the lightning, faded. The cloud went dark. Stayed dark. Hutch switched her navigation lamps on, but directed them away from the eye. Let’s not be impolite.

It focused on the lights. “No question about it,” said Antonio. “I’d thought maybe it was our imagination, but that thing is watching us.”

“Let’s see what happens when we move,” she said. Gently, she eased the ship forward. The eye tracked them.

“That’s deceptive,” he said. “It might be like one of those drawings where the subject watches you no matter where you go in the room.”

“It’s possible.”

Antonio nodded, agreeing with his own analysis. He hung tightly on to his chair. Started to say something, but stopped. His voice was giving him trouble.

Hutch understood completely. She fought down an impulse to take off. She stopped the forward progress, and used the attitude thrusters to back up. The eye stayed with them.

When she drew abreast of it, a luminous patch appeared. Off to one side of the eye.

“Phyl, are you reading anything?”

“Slight energy uptick.”

The patch expanded. Grew brighter.

Matt was on the circuit again: “You’re too close to it, Hutch. Back off.”

“Relax, Matthew,” she said. “We’re okay.”

“Uh-oh.”

Hutch never liked uh-ohs. “What is it, Matt?”