"Thank you. I'd like that," Mildred said. "Au revoir, then." And she was alone in her Bavarian office, staring out at the valley and the mountains, with the yellow-and-red zeppelin growing larger above. Lynx opened an eye, stretched, and yawned. Mildred was too filled with new thoughts to be in a mood for playing with the cat right now. VISAR seemed to pick up on it, and Lynx settled down again.
"I just think I ought to point out what an unusual honor it is to be invited in person to a Thurien's home," VISAR said. "And especially with someone like Frenua. You're the first Terran she has ever said that to. I just thought it was something you should be aware of. You've evidently made quite an impression."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bryom Calazar had a silver-gray crown flecked with white, extending down at the sides to bracket a pair of large, vertically elliptical, violet eyes. His protruding lower face with its blend of hues from mahogany to ebony always put Hunt in mind of ancient Egyptian depictions of Nubians. He arrived in the tower block next to the Multiporter building accompanied by Eesyan and a small retinue, clad in a short open coat over a tunic of embroidered green. It had never ceased to amaze Hunt that the effective head of at least an entire planetary administration-he wasn't sure how Calazar fitted in with the running of other Thurien-inhabited parts of the Galaxy-would travel as casually as a sightseeing tourist and show up with less fuss and ceremony than a regional manager back home visiting the local office. It seemed that Thuriens were as unimpressed by pomp and symbols of grandeur as they were by overassertiveness or attempts at intimidation. Reputation was what counted.
All of the Terran team were present to greet him, with the exception of Sandy, who had gone down with a Thurien bug or rebelled against something in the diet, and was holed up back at the Waldorf. There was also a heavy attendance of Thuriens, both from the project itself and other parts of the Institute, eager to pay their respects or simply to be part of the occasion. Hunt, Danchekker, and Duncan were old acquaintances of Calazar's from the time of the Jevlenese troubles and then afterward, when the first Thurien delegation came to Earth. Despite the demands for a word here, an introduction there, Calazar made a point of finding time to get to know Sonnebrandt and Chien better, to their unconcealed surprise and delight.
"This is unbelievable," Sonnebrandt said to Hunt when Calazar had moved on. "I've just talked to an interstellar overlord. He was interested in my fish and wanted to know if Berlin was like Geneva."
"Stick around. I said you'd be joining the right team… What fish?"
"I keep tropical fish."
"I didn't know that."
"You see. And he found out already!"
After the social preliminaries, Eesyan's scientists updated Calazar and his companions on the latest developments. Then it was time for the visitors to proceed to the adjacent part of the complex to see the Multiporter itself. Eesyan had arranged for some demonstrations of the machine in action. As the throng around the labs began thinning out, Hunt noticed that Danchekker was missing from the group assembling with Calazar to follow Eesyan across. "What's up?" Sonnebrandt asked, seeing the way Hunt was looking perplexedly around.
"We seem to have lost Chris." A mental nudge activated his avco. "Hey, Chris? It's Vic. Where are you? The party's moving on."
"What?… Oh." Danchekker came through on audio only, presumably not wanting to be distracted by visuals just now. "I'm in the office." He and Hunt had opted to share office space adjoining the area that the Thuriens used; Thuriens seemed to prefer working communally to being isolated in individual cubbyholes. "I'll catch you up."
"Lost something?" Hunt inquired.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Sandy made some notes that Eesyan will be needing later. I thought I'd brought them in, but I can't seem to lay my hand on them. Maybe I forgot to pick them up at the Waldorf. It's extremely annoying."
"I'll come back there and help you look."
"Really, there's no need."
"No problem. I've seen the show enough times before, anyway. I'll be there in two minutes." Hunt cleared down and looked back at Sonnebrandt. "He's in the office, looking for something. You carry on, Josef. I'll go back and give him a hand." He winked. "You know how it is with Chris. I'd hate it if he got lost trying to find his way over."
He found Danchekker rummaging around among piles of papers and boxes from Earth that had not yet been emptied. The working space was bright and spacious, with an attention to detail in the fittings that was not functional in any utilitarian sense and carried the surreal feel of an almost Victorian fondness for ornamentation that blended with the quasi-oriental decor of traceries and pointed arches. But it was a hard scientific working environment nonetheless. The walls were graphically active-in effect, complete floor-to-ceiling screens-that could be directed to display images, text, communications windows, lighting panels, or when nothing more demanding presented itself, background designs of whatever mood suited the moment. Just now, one of the larger mural areas was showing a scene from a world that had taken Danchekker's fancy in one of his "travels." It showed a stand of strange trees looking like ice-cream cones made out of broccoli, except that they stood two hundred feet high, their tops fashioned into nests for leathery, long-snouted flying creatures vaguely reminiscent of pterodactyls.
Things had been shifted around in the muddle of moving in, and a few sheets of notes could have been put anywhere. "One of the more exasperating characteristics of the female of the species," Danchekker grumbled. "Here we are on a planet who knows how many millennia in advance of our own, with universal access to a system capable of transferring any information instantly between star systems, and she resorts to handwriting notes. Is there any hope for our race, do you think?" Hunt noticed with amusement that Danchekker was searching inside a briefcase full of papers that he himself had brought from the Waldorf, but said nothing.
"Have you tried calling her?" he inquired instead.
"VISAR says she's blocking calls. Probably sleeping it off."
"Oh… right. Okay."
They went over the office one more time and satisfied themselves that the notes were not there. "I'll have to go back to the Waldorf and get them," Danchekker said. "It shouldn't take too long. If I leave right away I'll be back before Eesyan's bit."
"Want me to come along, too?"
"No, Vic. This time I insist. It was my own stupidity. You go on over and explain what's happened. They're probably missing both of us by now."
"Okay, then. Catch you later." Hunt turned to leave.
"Oh. There is one thing you could do for me, though," Danchekker said.
Hunt checked himself. "What?"
Danchekker opened the briefcase again and took out a book with a red, cloth-bound cover. "Sandy asked me to give this to Duncan."
"Ko's autograph book?" Hunt said, recognizing it.
"Yes. Duncan said he'd try and get Calazar to put his in it."
"Oh, dear, it wouldn't do to forget that, would it? Okay, Chris, I'll pass it on."
"I would appreciate it."
Hunt flipped curiously through the pages as he went back out and along the corridor. The collection included an assortment of names from the entertainment world, some notable public figures, various artists and writers, and a number of news celebrities. A youngster with some initiative and energy, Hunt thought approvingly. He found the entry belonging to Bressin Nylek, First Officer of the Ishtar, and also the Ishtar's commander. Hunt wondered what Calazar's autograph might be worth back home in years to come.