All those long white shapes disappeared into the cloud. A cheer went up from Maj and Del and Robin and Charlie, and a kind of strangled hoot from Laurent. They all turned tail and made their way up and out of the nebula again—
— and came into clear view of the great arm of the Galaxy again, the light triumphant against the darkness one more time; and all the stars sang for joy.
One more Pilum came coasting down by them. “All right, you guys,” said its pilot; and Maj’s head snapped up in surprise, for she knew that voice. She peered across the darkness between them and saw James Winters riding right-hand seat in the Pilum’s forward-thrust lance, with a grim grin on his face.
“Captain Winters…”
“Commander Winters,” he said, “here, at least. You’re done for today, Maj. I relieve you.”
“I stand relieved,” Maj said, and smiled, and slumped in her seat with relief.
“Now get out of virtual,” he said, “and for heaven’s sake go disarm the alarm system and open the front door, because about eight black-and-whites and a paramedic team from Bethesda are sitting outside waiting for you and Laurent to finish your business here, and your mom and dad are being choppered in and will be there demanding details in about five minutes.”
She had never been so glad to get offline in her life.
It was days before the dust settled. Laurent spent many of them in the hospital, having cellular rehab work done on the brain tissue which had been damaged — fortunately, not as much of it as had been feared nor was any of it permanent thanks to Maj’s and Net Force’s intervention — and having the microps removed. They were a seven-day’s wonder at Bethesda, where they were taken for safekeeping until the man who could best manage them arrived.
Maj insisted on being there, at least at a distance. She saw the Swissair spaceplane land at Dulles, and after the cleanup teams got the leftover hydrazine out of the ship, she saw it tugged into the landing ramp — and she waited with James Winters and her father as the tall blond man with the coat that was too short for his long wrists came up the jetway toward them, having been instructed to bypass immigration. She saw her father and the tall man look at each other…and then rush together and hug like a couple of kids. That had been worth seeing.
They had taken him straight to the hospital and left him with the recovering Laurent, with a long story to tell, of which Maj heard at least the highlights. Parts of it, she realized, she was unlikely ever to hear, though her father probably knew about them. All James Winters would say was, “We have some friends in far places. Sometimes they’re in a position to step in and help us. This time was one of those times…and we got lucky. They were able to get Laurent’s dad away from the security forces just as they took him, and out to where he could phone us the disabling codes for the microps. Not a moment too soon…”
Other parts, which she did hear, gave Maj the shivers. “There’s the matter of the agent that Cluj’s people sent over to ‘recover’ Laurent,” Winters said. “Quite a nasty lady — we were glad to catch up with her. There are several incidents which have happened on U.S. soil that we are going to be happy to have the chance to take up with her at last. She’ll be here for a while.”
Maj grinned at that. The woman’s face had been one of those she disliked at first sight — it was good to know there had been reason for it.
“You thought it through, Maj,” Winters said to her, much later. “You thought it through, and you followed the hunch when it came to you — and the hunch bought the time that was needed for response by those equipped to respond. You can’t do much better than that. I’m proud of you.”
She said nothing, and simply walked along by him, basking in the praise.
“Now,” he said, “we’ll talk about why you didn’t call me earlier.” And he talked about that, earnestly, for about fifteen minutes, during all of which Maj’s ears burned so fiercely that she thought they might set her hair on fire.
Finally, though, her father, walking on the other side of James Winters, spoke up. “She would probably have called you the night before, Jim,” he said, “if I hadn’t talked her out of it.”
“True?”
“True.”
Winters simply looked at Maj’s father and shook his head. Her father shrugged. “I invoked Occam’s Razor,” he said. “Mea culpa.”
“Mmm,” Winters said. “Now that you remind me, I seem to remember having put Tabasco in your vodka once.”
“That was you?”
Winters nodded. “Another mistake. So we’ve made one apiece, now.”
“Can I have that in writing,” said Maj’s father, “and will you give it to my wife? At your earliest convenience.”
The men stood there grinning at each other.
“Where will Laurent and his dad go now?” Maj said after a moment.
Winters sighed. “It’s no surprise we have a protection program for witnesses and other assets,” he said. “I think we can fairly qualify Armin Darenko as an asset, since he has apparently invented one of the most useful surgical and therapeutic tools of this century. Wouldn’t be surprised if he gets the Nobel out of it. That will come later, though. Right now, since he shows no particular interest in returning to his native country”—and his smile went appropriately wintery—“we’ll ‘adopt’ him and Laurent, find a quiet place for them to settle where they won’t be bothered…and let them fade into the background.”
Maj smiled. “New identities…”
“I have a feeling your group may acquire a new member,” Winters said, “with a new name. A couple of your Net Force Explorers associates, of course, are likely to be privy to the information. But I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“No,” Maj said, “I don’t think so, either.”
She smiled, hearing, in the back of her mind, the Galaxy singing; though not nearly as loudly, at the moment, as her pride.
Seven for seven, she thought. Or nine, or ten…
Whatever!