And so you are. Baritone voice. Stands straight as an oak. Something about him inspired confidence immediately. She looked around at Alyx, not only beautiful but also apparently intelligent. At Pete, who had sold the general population on the wonders of the cosmos and persuaded large numbers of them to kick in money to the Academy. At George. Even at Herman, who was as mundane as anyone with whom she’d ever shipped. Where were the fanatics she’d been expecting?

“We’re not all here yet,” said Herman.

Hockelmann nodded. “Nick and Tor,” he said. “We pick them up en route.” He turned expectantly toward Hutch.

Showtime.

She allowed a frown to creep into her eyes. “Alyx, gentlemen,” she said, “we’ll be leaving in just under two hours. You’ve all been assigned quarters. I think you’ll find, thanks to George, the accommodations on the City of Memphis more than adequate.”

A nod, followed by a few pats on the shoulder.

“We have good food, a well-stocked liquor cabinet, an extensive library, recreational facilities, and a gym. I suspect if you haven’t traveled outside the atmosphere before, you’ll find everything a bit more snug than you’re accustomed to.

“As you’re undoubtedly aware, when we’re in hyperspace, we’ll be covering approximately fifteen light-years per day. Eleven-oh-seven is almost seven hundred light-years out, and naturally we have to detour a bit to pick up the rest of our team. So we’re looking at a seven-week flight, one way.

“A few folks—not many—have problems making the transition into hyperspace. If you are among them, or suspect you may be, which means if your stomach is easily upset, if you’re prone to dizzy spells or fainting, we have medication. But it needs to be taken in two doses well in advance of the jump.” She held up a small container of Lyaphine. “If you’re concerned, see me when we’re finished here and we’ll get you started.”

She laid out the safety regulations, explaining that before any maneuvering or acceleration occurred, she would let them know. Couches and restraints were located throughout the ship, which they would be required to use. Failure to do so would not be tolerated, she said. Survivors would be debarked.

“Where?” asked Herman, grinning broadly.

“I’ll find a place,” she said.

When she’d finished she turned the floor over to Hockelmann, who welcomed everybody and advised them not to expect too much from the mission. The intercepts might have been glitches. Or some sort of local phenomenon. Et cetera. But the Oxnard—“Do I have that right, Hutch?”

He did.

“The Oxnard was just in the area, near 1107, and they overheard another transmission. It sounds as if there’s something there. But we still can’t be sure it isn’t some sort of natural phenomenon. So what I’d like you to do is not get too excited. Okay? Let’s just be patient.” It was like telling a dog to disregard a piece of New York strip.

THE LUGGAGE WAS delivered by cart. Ten minutes later Hockelmann and his team filed down the boarding tube, passed through the airlock and into the main passageway. Hutch was waiting.

She took them to the common room, which would also serve as the main dining area. They strolled by the rec room, the gym, the holotank, and the lab, which George duly announced would thenceforth be known as mission control. She showed them the couches and restraints scattered throughout the ship, demonstrated how to use them, explained why it was important they be belted down during maneuvering or transdimensional jumps.

“Do we really need them?” asked George. “I never feel much acceleration.”

“We’ll be in a protected environment,” Hutch explained. “The same system that provides the artificial gravity cancels most of the effects of acceleration. But not all. People who haven’t been harnessed have been hurt.”

“Oh,” he said. “Just wondering.”

She took them forward to the bridge, told them they were welcome anytime they wanted to pop by and say hello, that if she wasn’t there Bill would be happy to hold up his end of any conversation. At that point, on schedule, Bill said hello.

Then she delivered them to their living quarters. “Normally,” she said, “we have to be a bit careful about things like water usage, assigning different times for showers and so on. But there are so few of us on this flight we need have no concerns along those lines.” She finished by asking for questions.

“One,” said Alyx. She looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure you’re in good physical condition, but what if—”

“—Something happens to me?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m sure nothing will but just in case, how would we get back?”

“Bill is perfectly capable of bringing you home,” she said. “All you’d have to do is tell him I’ve gone to a better world, and ask him to bring you back here.” She smiled and looked around. “Anything else? If not, I suggest we all settle in and get moving.”

SURPRISINGLY, IT WAS the quietest, most unobtrusive group Hutch had ever transported anywhere. George spent most of his time in the common room, poring over securities and financial reports. “Tracking trends,” he explained to Hutch, warming quickly to his subject. “It’s where the money is.”

Alyx was laying out plans for a new production, which she said would be launched next fall. The tentative title was Take Off Your Clothes And Run. Hutch couldn’t decide whether she was serious. She and Hutch took turns providing a fourth with Herman, Pete, and Bill in an ongoing game of bridge.

Occasionally they partied. Bill provided music, and they did sing-alongs, although Hutch felt a bit inadequate matching her voice with Alyx’s lovely contralto. “You sound fine, Hutch,” Alyx said. “I believe you could go professional if you wanted.”

Hutch knew better.

“I’m serious. All you’d need is a little training. And, of course, you’d have to let go of your inhibitions.”

“What inhibitions?”

That brought a mild gasp. “Oh, my dear, you have a cartload of them.”

Alyx and Herman adhered to a strenuous workout program. Hutch was always careful to spend time in the gym during a flight, but she was far more casual about it.

They watched a lot of sims. Their tastes varied, but they set up each evening and everybody piled into the tank for the night’s thriller, or romance, or whatever. They took turns playing leads and bit parts. Herman enjoyed being Al Trent, Jason Cordman’s celebrated detective; George showed up one memorable evening as Julius Caesar; and Hutch accepted a challenge and allowed herself to portray the masked twenty-first-century superhero Vengada. Even Alyx entered the fray with good humor, plugging herself in as Cleopatra to George’s Caesar, and later as Delilah to Herman’s Samson. (They’d both been unlikely candidates for the roles, Herman because he just couldn’t mount the intensity—nobody believed he could be persuaded to pull a temple down on himself; and Alyx because she couldn’t submerge her good humor.)

Herman, of course, never lost his infatuation with Alyx. He tried to hide it, but his voice always rose an octave or two when she walked into the room. One of the problems with the compact communities formed by interstellar travel is that nothing can be hidden. People are too close, and their emotions too transparent.

Hutch got a lot of reading done. And she spent an increasing amount of time with George. He had all sorts of documentary evidence to support the notion that there had been a series of alien forays through terrestrial history. He produced pictures of carvings and ancient literary references and sightings that were hard to dispute. Yet lifelong opinions are hard to overcome. The notion that there’d been visitors, even though she knew of at least two races that had, in ancient times, achieved interstellar travel, still seemed absurd. But she listened, caught up in the warmth of his enthusiasm.