Victor shook Eddie Coghlan's hand. "You can relax now, Eddie, I'm not here to chase you."

Eddie Coghlan smiled crisply. "That's something, you had me worried there for a minute."

They went down the stairs, talking amicably. Eddie Coghlan was glad to have the opportunity to discuss a few points, and Victor listened readily enough, making suggestions. He didn't go for the intimidating approach, a fear figure. He knew there were some company security chiefs who ran their departments on those lines, and wasn't much impressed. Security was a delicate, complex job; bawling orders like a sergeant-major might look good for the board, but like all dictatorships it was ultimately ineffective.

Access Astronautics Institute Building One Floor Plan, he told his processor node. The three-dimensional glass image formed in his mind.

Display Route from Landing Pad Three to SETI Office. A red dot appeared on the landing pad, and extended a line down the stairs. Perspective shifted to keep the tip of the line in front of his perception point; directional graphics blinked up, naming the sections it was passing through.

When he came out of the stairwell on to the fifth floor's central corridor, he stepped unerringly on to a moving walkway. He was in an administrative segment, glass walls on either side showing him big open-plan offices with staff bent over desk terminals.

"There's going to be a rush of reassignment orders for the Institute's research staff coming through over the next few days," he told Eddie Coghlan as they slid past the canteen. "Top grades, the real thinker types. So I want you to blow Meter ski’s deal, and Callaway’s."

"But we haven't identified all the team members," Eddie Coghlan said. "If we blow the ones we know, the rest will pull the cutouts and vanish."

"Can't be helped. These reassignments are supposed to be ultra-hush, I don't want them to become open knowledge to the tekmercs. OK?"

"You're the boss," Eddie Coghlan said glumly. "When do you want it done?"

"Today."

"Christ!"

"Sorry, but that's the way it goes. I'll see if I can assign some psychic empaths to you. Have them interrogate the tekmerc members you do nab, that way you should get a reasonably complete list." He stepped off the walkway at an intersection, and started to ride an escalator down.

"Right you are," Eddie Coghlan said. "Is that why you're here, to supervise the reassignments?"

Victor liked that, no questions about what the reassignments were for. Eddie was a good security man. He started down the next escalator to the third floor. "No, I'm here to see Dr Parnell, actually."

Eddie Coghlan frowned, trying to place the name. "Not the SETI project director?"

"Yes."

"Oh, right." He glanced at his watch. "I suppose he'll be in by now."

Dr Rick Parnell's personnel profile said he was thirty-seven, which surprised Victor. Himself apart, Event Horizon's divisional chiefs were normally in their fifties. When he accessed the Astronautics Institute's records he found out why. SETI was about the smallest project on Event Horizon's books, with only twelve members. Julia funded it out of the pure science budget; the project was virtually a token, she was simply covering all aspects of space research, however remote.

Victor certainly hadn't known it existed, not until Julia suggested he go and see if they could come up with any suggestions about how to find the alien starship. She was anxious that Greg's tenuous pursuit of the Newfields girl wasn't the only option of making contact with them.

The Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence project had been allocated three offices on the inward side of Building One's ring; the usual array of desks and terminals and holographic display cubes, worn dark-green carpet squares. Victor was mildly disappointed, expecting something more elaborate for this kind of project, at least. His own office wasn't much different, larger with better furniture.

He left Eddie Coghlan to organize the tekmerc busts and went in. The SETI staff gave him and his bodyguard inquisitive stares; all of them were in their twenties, he noted. An attractive female secretary directed him to Rick Parnell's office.

The room looked out over the assembly hall, an incomprehensible mini-city of cybernetic machinery, its roadways heavy with little white carts and drone cargo flat-tops following buried guidance tracks. On the far side he could see a curving row of integration bays where standard payload pods were fitted out, each bay a buzz of activity. More pods were hanging from the overhead hoists, like a series of white moon-lets drifting along rectangular orbital paths.

The wall behind the SETI director's desk was covered with holograms of satellites. To Victor's eye they were similar to the geosync antenna platforms, although he guessed the outsized dishes were radio observatories. There was one computer simulation of a mesh dish alongside New London; if he was reading the scale right it was over twenty kilometres in diameter.

Dr Rick Parnell had his feet up on his desk, drinking a can of Ruddles bitter as he watched a data display in his terminal's cube. He had been a varsity rugby player while he was at Oxford, half a head taller than Victor, with broad, sloping shoulders, and blond hair that was starting to thin. It looked like he worked hard to keep in trim. The body didn't really belong in a white shirt and suit trousers, Victor thought, more like tennis kit.

"Security chief?" he asked after Victor showed his card. "What, you mean of the whole company?"

"That's right."

"You come to evict us?"

"No. I'd like to talk to you."

Rick Parnell suddenly realized he was drinking a can of bitter in office hours. He drained it in a couple of gulps, crumpled it, and threw it into the bin. Perfect shot. "You don't look old enough to be a security chief."

Victor sat in front of the desk. "There aren't many old people in security. We don't survive that long."

Rick Parnell managed a sickly smile. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Firstly, let me remind you of the confidentiality undertaking you thumbprinted when you were employed by Event Horizon."

Rick Parnell coloured slightly. "Hey, now listen. I was told that was a formality. This project might not seem much to a guy like you, but we accomplish a lot, and most of that is because we're mainly a co-ordination centre. Half our budget goes on grants to universities and agencies, we arrange international conferences, publish datasheets. You start restricting our output, and there's no point to us even existing."

"I'm not interested in restricting the flow of ideas, I simply ask that our conversation is not bandied about."

"Otherwise I'm for the chop."

Victor sat back in the chair and gave Rick Parnell a searching look. "Tekmercs make threats, Mr. Director. I work on the other side of the fence. We try and ensure that a dedicated researcher's life's work isn't stolen from under their nose, that the pension fund you've paid into for forty years doesn't get emptied by some hotrod with a smart decryption program. Now, you and I are employed by the same lady, and she suggested I ask your professional advice on a matter I'm involved with. Is that really so hard for you?"

Rick Parnell twitched in discomfort. "No. Sorry, of course not. I'm just not used to the idea of the head of Event Horizon's security division walking into my office. I didn't think you people even knew we existed." He lifted his head, as if he was sniffing at the air. "Julia Evans herself told you to come here? The Julia Evans?"

"Yes."

"For professional advice?"

"Yes."

"OK, fire away."

"Hypothetically, if there was an alien spaceship in the solar system, how would I go about detecting it?"