He caught her in the act of appraising him. Something changed subtly in his expression, softening it, and his gaze swept briefly across her bare shoulders.

Yes, indeed, she thought.

If Virgil caught any of the counterplay, she kept it to herself. She had a reputation for ruthlessness, and the rumor was that she had paid her way through school by performing as a stripper. Any means to an end. She would have been a beautiful woman, save that everything about her had a hard edge. She always spoke with the voice of command, her eyes were too penetrating, her manner a bit too confident. She had been married three times. Nobody had renewed.

“Hutch,” she said, “may I speak with you a moment about your transmission?”

The retirement. “Certainly, Sylvia.” But I wish you wouldn’t.

“I wanted you to know I’m distressed to see that you’re thinking about leaving us.”

“It’s time,” Hutch said.

“Well, I can’t argue with you about your feelings.” She looked at Preach. “We’re losing a superb officer, Preacher.”

Preach duly nodded, as if he knew as well as anybody.

“Hutch, I’ve a favor to ask. I’d like to persuade you to undertake one more mission for us. It’s important. You’ve been specifically requested.”

“Really? By whom?”

“Moreover,” she said, as if Hutch hadn’t spoken, “we’d like very much to keep you with the Academy. I believe that I’ll be able to offer you a challenging position groundside. In a few weeks. And I’d be grateful if you kept that to yourself, because technically we have to post the job.” Pretend that all applicants would receive serious consideration. “We’d keep you here in Arlington,” she added.

Hutch hadn’t been prepared for this. She’d expected to be processed out, no glitches, thank you very much, have a good life, write when you get work. “What’s the mission?” she asked.

Virgil had taken over the Academy less than a year earlier, and had wasted no time in clearing out, as the phrase went, the dead wood. That involved most of the administrative force. It sounded as if someone else had lost favor. “I wonder,” she said, “if we could go by my office for the rest of this?”

Hutch hesitated. She didn’t want to walk away from Preach.

“Both of you” Virgil added, smiling pleasantly at his surprise. Whatever else you could say about her, Hutch thought, the woman is no dummy.

Hutch got her wrap, the Preacher shrugged into a coat, and Virgil led the way out into the park. They crossed the bridge over the moon pool. The night was cloudy, brisk, threatening rain. The lights from the District of Columbia created a glare in the northern sky. A few taxis drifted down to pick up departing guests.

“Lovely event,” said Hutch.

“Yes, it was an emotional evening.” Virgil slipped a pill from an engraved box and swallowed it. There was talk of medical problems. “When everything has run its course, I’ll be encouraging him to resign.”

Hutch had to run the comment through a second time before she realized she was talking about Barber.

They stopped in the middle of the bridge. “I’m telling you this, Hutch, because I want you to understand I appreciate your discretion. I know you could have blown the whistle on us all.”

Hutch did not reply.

“You were smart enough to realize it would have done no good, and it could have caused a great deal of harm. The Academy has political enemies who would love to use an incident like this to argue that we’re not very competent. To put us out of business, if they can.”

Something splashed in the pool.

Preach inserted himself into Virgil’s line of vision. “How incompetent is the Academy? Barber could have gotten a lot of people killed out there. For that matter—”

“—So could Dimenna.” Virgil looked cold. It had been warm at the beginning of the evening, and she wore only a light jacket over her gown. “I know.”

“Is this why you wanted to talk to me?” asked Preach, still obviously wondering why he was present.

“No. I wanted to commend you on your good sense. And I wanted to assure you I’m taking care of the problem. He won’t be going back to Serenity.” She shivered. “And I have an offer to make to you, too. Let’s go where it’s warm.”

Minutes later they hurried inside the administration building and up to the second floor. Lights blinked on for them, doors swung open, and they entered the director’s office. Virgil took a sweater from a closet and pulled it around her shoulders. Was Hutch cold? No? Very good. “Can I get you something to drink?” She rattled off what was available and gestured to a couple of padded chairs.

It was spacious, luxurious in a government-issue sort of way. Fake leather. Dark-stained walls. Lots of plaques. Montrose Award for Achievement in the Field of Linear Mathematics. Commissioner’s Medal for Advancement of Science. State of Maryland’s Citizen of the Year. Canadian Mother of the Year. Pictures of a former husband and twin daughters on the desk. There were photos of the director with Oberright, with Simpson and Dawes, with sim star Dashiel Banner, with the president. On the whole, a substantial amount of intimidation hung on those walls.

Preach asked for a glass of Bordeaux. Hutch opted for an almond liqueur. The director filled a third glass with brandy and sat down behind an enormous walnut desk.

She sipped her drink and looked from one to the other, evidently enjoying their confusion. “I assume,” she said, “you’ve heard about the Benjamin Martin mission?”

Hutch knew of it, of course. But Preach shook his head. No, he had no idea what the director was referring to. “It was a research operation out to a neutron star,” Hutch said. “Several years ago. There was a rumor they heard something. A radio transmission of some sort. Eleven-oh-seven, wasn’t it? But they were never able to confirm anything.”

“It wasn’t a rumor,” said Virgil. “They picked up a radio signal that appeared to be artificial.”

“Who else was out there?” asked Preach.

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? There was nobody even remotely close.” She put the glass down. “Langley stayed out there for six months. The captain. They never heard it again. Not a whisper.”

Preach shrugged. “That’s not a unique story. People hear things all the time.”

“Preacher, they used a satellite array during the search. When they came back they left the satellites in place.”

“And one of them,” guessed Hutch, “picked it up again.”

Virgil swung around and gazed out through her window at the quad. “That’s right. There’s been a second intercept. We got the report three weeks ago.”

“And—?”

“The source is in orbit around the neutron star.”

“Probably a local anomaly,” said Preach. “Anything’s possible close to that kind of beast. Has anybody been able to read it yet?”

“No. We haven’t had any success at translation.”

Preach didn’t look satisfied. “How much of an intercept?”

“Not much. Like the first. Just over a second. The wave’s narrow; the satellite just passed through it. It’s a directed beam.”

“Directed where?”

She threw up her hands. “The direction is compatible with the first intercept. But we’re not aware of a target.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

She shrugged. “The beam doesn’t seem to be aimed at anything. There’s no planetary system, of course. And we didn’t see any anomalous objects drifting around.”

“Which means nothing,” said Preach.

Virgil’s eyes locked on him. But they were strictly business. “We just don’t know for certain what’s happening. Probably nothing. Some of our people think it might even be a temporal reflection, a signal from a future mission. Something bounced out of a time warp.”

Hutch understood that time warps only operated over a few seconds. Even under the most extreme conditions. But she didn’t comment. She could, however, see where this was headed. And it seemed simple enough. They’d ask her to take some investigators out, hang around while they listened, and bring them back.