“Ben-what… Has Delia Trine left?”

“All support crew have departed Circus. Am notifying Launch Control that you are awake.”

This isn’t right. I’m not ready. I’ve forgotten. There’s so much to know. I can feel it in there squirming, but I can’t bring it up.

“Will you proceed to Prow-Three-Center?” The computer waited for a polite length of time, then repeated the question.

Virgil tugged at a lock of his hair until it hurt.

“Yes. I’m going.” They’ll be watching me so closely for the next three hours, their fingers on an abort button. I’ve got to encode so deeply they don’t read a thing. Put a gauze around me until they can’t see me. Tight gauze. Suffocating until her knife slashes me free. Choking until…

“Are you in need of medical attention?”

Virgil gasped. “No. I’m on my way.”

He maneuvered through passageways designed for “down” being in the direction of the engines. The prow ellipsoid, however, was different. Designed after the discovery of the Valliardi Transfer, it had been built quickly and with little thought to engine use, since the wonder of Valliardi’s breakthrough was that as little energy was required to travel to the far end of the Universe as to travel to the other side of the Sun. If the engines had to be used for any great length of time to match velocities with various stars and planets, padded bulkheads could be removed and replaced with light deck plating. Virgil wondered who would do all that work.

The heavily shielded viewing port in front of Con-One showed a gibbous Earth. Sunlight approached Troy, the terminator about to fall into the Ægean Sea.

Always look a gift horse in the mouth, Virgil thought, then wondered with amusement if Brennen and he had scrutinized their respective presents with sufficient thoroughness.

He strapped into the command chair and flipped a switch. Banks of instruments closed in around him, all adjusted to rest exactly within his reach. He shuddered an instant before they stopped, then relaxed.

Nothing to fear. Nothing can happen to me so close to the end. To my beginning. You were smart, Wizard, but not smart enough. You had me learn too much about this ship, your prize. I discovered the program block that prevents my control of the ship while inside the solar system. I also found the alert program that would warn you if I remove the block. So I’ve got a secret, just in case you’re playing with me. Jord Baker knew what to do with navigation computers.

He shifted slightly in his seat and went through the checklist. Lethargic at first, he grew excited as the ship responded to his commands. The procedure took an hour. The last item in the sequence made Virgil grin with anticipation. He punched up a command to test the vernier rockets.

Vernier rockets on most spacecraft are little more than gas bottles and precise, directed nozzles. Circus Galacticus possessed twelve one-million-kilogram-thrust nuclear engines in addition to the fifty-four in her engine array. They provided the pitch, yaw, and roll capabilities of Circus.

The ship responded quickly and easily to his commands. The universe turned around him. Under his orders, the ship twisted and spun like a mastiff in heat. Each momentary firing filled Circus with thunder and the sky with a mist that glowed for an instant then faded.

Virgil smiled. I can outmaneuver ships a tenth my size. Or at least fry them if they get close enough. Why? Why such weapons, if this is just for exploration? What does Wizard expect me to meet out there?

He rotated the ship until the Earth, nearly full, hung before him. He watched it, his right hand resting on the transfer button.

If they try to stop me now, I can still drop this hammer on them. Coordinates of Brennen East encoded into manual override. All this mass would make a mess. And the anti-matter to boot, boot them into the arms of Nightsheet.

Stupid. They won’t stop me. I can do something they can’t. I ride the divine winds of Valliardi. I die for Wizard again. And again.

“Kinney-telemetry reports that you have completed your checklist.” The face of Dante Houdini Brennen appeared projected onto the viewing port by the ship’s heads-up display, a disembodied head floating in space like a god. Brennen watched Virgil closely as he spoke. “I was happy to see you handle her so well.”

“Most of my abilities probably came from Jord Baker.”

“Galacticus wasn’t finished until after his death. You know more about that ship than he ever did.”

“We both know a lot about it.”

Brennen’s expression revealed nothing, except that he watched Virgil’s face with a vivisectionist’s intensity.

His finger must be right on the button. Ready to cut me off at the slightest sign of madness. Well, I plan to pass this test, Wizard. And you’ll be old and dead and dust before the Trust finds out I’m not where I should be. If Master Snoop can even track me after I’m gone, gone, gone.

“Why did you twitch just then?” Brennen asked.

“I sat down wrong. I think my balls have fallen asleep. There’s-”

“Never mind.” Brennen looked embarrassed and annoyed.

“Where’s Delia?” Virgil took his turn scrutinizing Brennen’s face.

“Gone. She resigned from the Trust the second she stepped off the shuttle. Had a scrim written up and handed it to the first superior she saw. Me.”

Gone, gone, gone. Death Angel wouldn’t take me, why do I feel so dead?

“I’d… like to talk with her. Say goodbye.”

“I’ll try to track her down. It may take a while.”

“I have over an hour.”

“I’ll get back to you.” The scrim went blank.

Must sit still. Calm. Master Snoop still watches. Ben has eyes everywhere. Hypnot eyes. Mesmer eyes…

“Catching a last bit of sleep?”

Virgil jerked to attention, straining against the safety straps that snapped back to hold him even tighter. Delia’s face glowed against the stars. The image twinkled with static stars of its own.

“Where are you calling from?”

“Colorado. I’m staying with some relatives while my stuff is being shipped to Jefferson Freeland.” She paused and looked directly at Virgil. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I wanted you to feel as though we’d meet again sometime.”

“So don’t say goodbye.” He smiled, as did she, her professional relief obvious.

“Don’t hit any wrong buttons. Remember-it’s a time machine.”

A siren whooped. Virgil twisted around in his seat, realized what the alarm meant, and flipped a switch.

“Ben-What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Delia answered. “It’s time to transfer. You were asleep for almost an hour. I’m surprised you’re taking this so calmly.”

“Three minutes until initial transfer to Alpha Centauri A,” the computer said. “All systems in readiness. Six-oh-two defeat in Bay Three. Overridden.” The computer switched to a rapid speech pattern and audibly indicated the status of all important functioning equipment and mentioned minor malfunctions as well.

Can’t hear myself think through Ben’s artificial roar. Making mine come back.

Delia tried to smile. “We’ll probably never meet again.”

No!

He felt sweat drip down his back. Got to be careful. Everything is being monitored. Master Snoop and Nightsheet are allied for just two more minutes. You’ve got to think a tighter gauze. Hold on for just a little more.

“Yes. I suppose this is goodbye.”

“I enjoyed working on your case.”

Is that all, Death Angel? An assignment? Seduce me into endless deathflights, take your pay and move on?

“You’ve been a great help to me…” Stupid line, stupid. Why must she stay? Does Nightsheet have you so tight in hand that you can’t escape?

The image suspended in space moved to one side and the face of Dante Houdini Brennen appeared next to Delia. He looked stern, almost rigidly alert.