“It’ll go away in a second,” she told him.

“Hutch, it never goes away in a second.”

Bill picked up the approaching shuttle and put it on-screen.

Hello, Kurt.

As if he were reading her thoughts, it blinked its lights.

“I’ve got the goodies,” he said. “You really only have four passengers?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“They sent enough stuff to take you to Eta Carina.”

He needed only a few minutes to cross the two kilometers or so between the two ships, easing into the bay and settling against the cradle. Clamps locked the shuttle in place, the door closed, and gravity came back. When air pressure was restored, he opened up, looked around the launch chamber, and climbed down.

Hutch did the introductions. Kurt, it turned out, had ferried Tor to Outpost. “I was sorry to hear that Herman was one of the casualties,” he added.

“You knew Herman?” asked Tor.

He released the cargo hatch and opened up. “I met him at an Academy function. He seemed reasonable for a—” He hesitated, suddenly realizing where he was headed. For a contact nut. For a fanatic. “—For a man who’d already put away several drinks,” he finished. Hutch thought it a good recovery.

They began unloading. It was easy work, especially in the light gravity. When they’d finished, they collected the satellite core and the supports for the dishes and loaded them. They were too long for the compartment, but as long as he left the hatch open it would be okay. The other pieces would go back to the Wendy on the second trip. Hutch thanked everybody at that point and said she and Kurt would take care of the rest. She was talking about moving the bodies.

“I’ll help,” said Tor.

George looked grateful to get away from that part of the job. “Okay, good,” he said. “I have some work to do in mission control.” It sounded pompous, and he knew it, so he flashed a weak smile and cleared out.

Hutch led the way to the freezers. She opened up, and Kurt looked at the bodies and shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

They were wrapped in plastic envelopes. It was a long walk back, so Hutch killed the gravity again. Tor carried one and Kurt took the other. Hutch trailed behind. She’d already filled in the other captain on the details of the attack, and she could see that he wondered how she could let such a thing happen. But he didn’t ask that question so she made no effort to answer it, other than to say, on a private channel, that she’d seen it coming.

They stowed them in the shuttle cargo compartment, where they’d left room.

Kurt climbed into the vehicle, and Hutch jumped in on the passenger’s side. “We’ll be back in a bit,” she told Tor.

“You have anybody over there to help?” Tor asked.

“We can manage,” said Kurt.

Tor was holding the door and gazing at Hutch. “Why don’t I come along and lend a hand?”

“If you like.”

“Sure.” He looked at Kurt. “You are coming back, right?”

“There’s another load.”

Hutch climbed down. “In that case, I’ll stay put. Sounds like work for guys anyhow.” She removed her e-suit and handed the harness to Tor. But she saw a flicker of disappointment and added a broad smile. “I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

TOR WOULD HAVE liked to have her along, but it was okay. He had broken through, and he wondered happily if any other man had ever traveled so far, hundreds of light-years, for a woman.

Kurt flipped a few switches, the area sealed itself off, and air pressure in the launch chamber began to drop. “Been a rough ride, Tor?” he asked.

“Yes. You could say that.” He pushed back in his chair. The restraints settled over him. “I guess you know the details?”

“I know enough.”

“Angels,” Tor said. “You should have seen the females. You wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Beautiful?”

“Yes. Until you got to the teeth and claws.”

The turntable on which they were docked rotated 180 degrees to face the launch door. Kurt spoke briefly to Hutch, but Tor didn’t catch it. More lights blinked on inside the vehicle. The engines ignited.

“We were surprised,” Tor said. He felt a compulsion to talk about it, and he wondered if he’d spend the rest of his life doing that. Collaring people at parties, spilling it out to casual strangers. “How could we possibly have known?”

Kurt nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Hutch warned us.”

The push came, and they glided out the door. Kurt turned in a long arc and Tor gazed back at the Memphis. His home in the void. Then he looked for the other ship and saw its lights. But he couldn’t tell how far it was.

“About two kilometers,” Kurt said. Tor glanced back at the pieces of the stealth, sticking out of the cargo compartment. It might have been a dead dragonfly.

THE WENDY WAS immense after the snug conditions on the Memphis. It could accommodate three times as many passengers. It had substantially more storage space, and Tor knew it was also equipped with areas that were designed to be converted into specialized labs. They left the e-suits and air tanks on their seats and descended from the shuttle. The sheer size of the launch bay bore down on him. “Why didn’t they use a smaller ship?” he asked.

“This was the only one not already assigned somewhere,” Kurt said. “And it was handy.”

Another dozen containers, marked City of Memphis, had been assembled on either side of the dock. Tor waited while Kurt opened the shuttle’s cargo hold. “Refrigeration’s in back,” he said.

He zeroized the gravity, as Hutch had, and they lifted out the bodies and carried them down a long central corridor to the after section. The passageway was dark save where they walked. The lights, which emanated directly from the bulkhead, moved with them.

“In here,” said Kurt, opening doors and working his way past shadowy pieces of equipment. “Lab stuff,” he added. “Biological over there, atmospheric here. Astrophysics next door.” He stopped in front of a set of dark gray containers, punched a button on one, and watched a side panel slide back. Cold air wafted out. “Here we go.”

They placed the bodies inside, and, without a word, he closed the door, inhaled, and turned away. “Let’s get the rest of your supplies,” he said.

Steak, turkey, fruits and vegetables, and some desserts, were stored in adjoining freezers. (There was no real meat, of course. Actual meat and the hides of living animals had gone out of fashion half a century before. Hamburgers, pork chops, chicken, everything was artificially processed. The prospect of eating the flesh of, say, a cow, would have sickened most of Hutch’s passengers.) They loaded them onto a cart, returned to the shuttle, and put them in the hold. Then Kurt led the way to a nearby storage area and opened several cabinets, which were full of complete dinners, as well as rolls, cereal, flour, assorted condiments, and a range of other foods. “They must expect you to be gone a long time,” he said.

When they had everything in the lander, Kurt restored the gravity and excused himself. “I have one more thing to get,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

KURT HAD SPENT the two hours of his approach to the Memphis on a special project. Wendy’s automated kitchen, like those on all Academy ships, provided a hands-on feature for anyone who wanted to get away from the standard prepared fare and put together something special.

He had been making a German meat loaf dinner for Hutch and her passengers. He’d baked a mixture of ground pork and ground beef, had added diced onion and applesauce and bread crumbs and catsup and salt and black pepper. Bill had kept an eye on it while he made his run over to the Memphis. Now he left Tor and hurried up to the kitchen, which was located opposite the common room.

“Everything is fine, Kurt,” Bill told him. “Your timing appears to be perfect.”

It had been a long run to this godforsaken place. Kurt hated eagle flights, flights with no souls on board other than the pilot. He wasn’t much of a reader and didn’t enjoy watching sims alone. When it happened, he just rattled around, trying to make conversation with the AI. He was not looking forward to another ten days locked up alone.