"The mission people are back at the Shapieron-mainly to rest and recompose themselves, I suspect."
"I can imagine. I think I would be too."
"Since it's going to be another week at least before we bring them back, I thought it might be appropriate for you and I to join them." That was the Thurien way of talking. Calazar meant virtually, via neurocouplers. "Symbolically showing that we've been with them, as it were. And what better way could there be of celebrating VISAR's reconnection?"
"Sounds like a good idea. When did you have in mind?"
"Now, if you can manage it. Is there a coupler available there? You said earlier people were lining up to try them."
"Things are quieter now. Just a second. I'll check." Caldwell looked over at Mitzi. "Can you raise Amelia and find out what the coupler situation is out there? Calazar wants me to take a trip to visit Vic and the guys."
"Sure will."
"Some of the scientists from Quelsang will be joining us too," Calazar said. "There's one last aspect of this whole business that they're getting excited about. They want to tell the others about it, especially Eesyan and Vic."
"Oh? And what's that?" Caldwell asked.
"I'm not sure I fully understand it myself. But it's to do with this business about the Shapieron's bubble implosion creating some kind of low-resistance path back to here."
Caldwell followed that much. "Uh-huh."
"All the activity that's been going on would involve many other universes apart from ours, all doing much the same thing. Well, the theory is that the entire local region of the Multiverse that was affected-centered on Minerva, fifty thousand years ago-somehow created a similar kind of pathway to the disturbance that projected those five Jevlenese ships back. So…" Calazar paused as Caldwell began nodding rapidly, already seeing what he was getting at.
"I know what you're going to say. That's a question I've been asking for a long time. The coincidence was too much to buy. This answers it."
"That why they ended up where they did. Anyway, it's another whole area of theory that we're about to get into, I'm told."
Cadwell realized the Mitzi was waving. "Just a second, Bryom…" He raised an eyebrow.
"Amelia says, no problem. It's clear out there."
"The couplers are free," Caldwell told Calazar. "I'll see you… wherever. Where are we going?"
"I thought we'd go there, to the ship," Calazar said. The Shapieron had been fitted with Thurien neurocouplers for its stay on Jevlen.
"Sounds good. I'll see you fifty thousand years ago in a couple of minutes."
Caldwell cleared down and went back into the corridor. The building was quiet and felt back to normal. He saw Amelia coming the other way. "That couple aren't still waiting somewhere to ambush me, are they?" he said.
"You're safe. They left."
"And the coupler room is free?"
"Yes… Oh, there's just one guy left in one of the cubicles but I don't think he'll be a problem."
"Great job. You've earned a day off."
"I'll hold you to that."
Caldwell went on through to the coupler area, let himself in to one of the vacant cubicles, and settled himself down in the recliner. The sensation came of his mind opening up into a void that told him he was connecting to VISAR. "So how was your day here at UNSA?" he subvocalized.
"Oh, pretty lightweight but varied," VISAR replied. "I trust my service was at its customary level of excellence?"
"I haven't heard any complaints. So, you know the deal with Calazar?"
"Yes. You're all meeting at Minerva, aboard the Shapieron."
"Let's go."
Hunt relaxed back in one of the Shapieron's neurocouplers. Although he was aboard the ship physically, he needed to be coupled neurally to interact with the others from Thurien and Earth. The impression of being together would be an illusion shared by all of them.
"VISAR, you have absolutely no idea how great it is to be doing this again," he said. "We thought we were isolated here for the rest of the duration." It was intoxicating.
"It was most fortunate," VISAR confessed. "I had run out of viable options. You know that."
"But you tried all the same."
"That was Calazar. In a situation like that, I just follow orders."
"I think I'm beginning to understand why Thurien loves him. So he's coming here too? And Gregg?"
"They thought it was the least they could do."
"Where are we meeting?"
"Garuth thought, the officers' mid-decks lounge."
A good choice, Hunt thought. Relaxed, informal, but dignified and comfortable. "Is anyone there yet?" he inquired.
"You're the first."
And Hunt was standing in the officers' lounge amid outsize Ganymean seating of black upholstery arranged in booths and around low alcove tables. The newly paneled walls showed dynamic murals, and there was a virtual buffet set out on the counter running along one side.
"You have a call," VISAR said. "Someone from Goddard connected neurally, asking if you're available."
Goddard! The word sounded beautiful. Hunt had thought he would never see it again. Only now was it coming home to him fully that the nightmare was over. Everything was fine. He was back in his familiar world again. In his rising euphoria he didn't care who it was or bother to ask. No doubt somebody from the firm wanting to check on him. "Sure," he said. "Bring him through." A moment later, a figure in a blue suit, wearing a white shirt and tie, popped into existence in a human-scale chair in front of him. For a moment he just sat staring around, looking bewildered. Hunt couldn't place him. He was heavy set, smooth-shaven and fleshy, with hair combed back from a round, moonish brow.
"Good evening," Hunt said. "Er, do I know you?"
"I'm looking for a Dr. Victor Hunt."
"This is he, at your service. And you are Mr…?"
"Lieutenant Polk, FBI, Investigations Branch, Fraud and Finance Division." Polk reached automatically inside his jacket for his badge. VISAR had no way of knowing what he intended, and improvised a card with a smiley face. Polk stared at it with the expression of one who had just opened his safe deposit box to find a rubber duck. But academy training prevailed, and he recovered himself quickly. "Could I ask you some questions concerning your relationship with a company called Formaflex of Austin, Texas, Dr. Hunt?"
Hunt blinked. This wasn't real. "You've come a long way," he remarked, more for something to say. "You do know where this is, I take it?"
"Not really. The computer or whatever it is just told me you'd said you were available."
This was going to be even trickier than Hunt had thought. He frowned, searching for the best way to handle it. "Can I offer you a drink?"
"Not on duty, thanks."
"Oh. Of course. VISAR, straight Irish for me, please." A full glass materialized in Hunt's outstretched hand, as if caught from nowhere. Polk's eyes widened. A moment later Calazar appeared, followed by Garuth and Shilohin.
"It's a bit complicated," Hunt tried to explain. Caldwell materialized in another chair.
"Vic," Calazar greeted. "We've come to pay our respects. The least we could do in the circumstances." Frenua Showm and Eesyan were suddenly standing by the buffet counter. Polk stared from one to another of the aliens, then back at Hunt, his resolve breaking down finally in a helpless appeal for reason and sanity.
"You might as well stay now, Lieutenant," Hunt told him cheerfully. "They're all part of the story. Make yourself comfortable. Are you sure you won't have that drink? It's completely non-impairing, I promise. This will probably take a while."
EPILOGUE
In a large boulevard bookstore facing out over a bank of the Danube in Vienna, Mildred sat at a table piled with copies of The Thurien Soul, as well as a selection of her earlier works. It was doing respectably well, and the line of readers and buyers waiting for autographs hadn't abated all morning. Her current project was to organize into book form a collection of her thoughts on the philosophy and physics that she had found herself drawn into in the course of researching it. The tentative title she had in mind was, Learning to Live With the Multiverse. Collecting her thoughts together on anything was always a daunting business.