Matt called her at home late that evening. “We got a late request,” he said. “Can you talk to the Terminal City Business Association tomorrow?”

It was the signal. They would leave tomorrow night.

She complained that it was short notice, and he apologized, said he’d originally planned to handle it himself, but something had come up, and he’d appreciate it.

“Okay,” she said. “But you owe me.”

And she went to bed happy.

31

Kim slept soundly through the night and was up at six, ate a good breakfast, and finished packing. She put her wet suit and a metal sensor in a carrying case, instructed Shep to inform callers during the balance of the day that she was on assignment in Marathon and after that to say simply that she was on vacation and would be unavailable for the foreseeable future.

Shortly after nine she arrived at the train station and directed the loader to ship her bags through to Terminal City, and signed in. By 9:40 she was on her way to Marathon.

Marathon was a garden town, populated predominantly by people who were satisfied to live off the basic allotment, and to devote their lives to the pursuit of leisure and the arts. It had more theaters per square meter than any other place in the world, more game rooms, more libraries, more swimming pools, and probably more sex.

According to legend, its name commemorated the ultimate one-night stand when Annie Muldoon, a personage at the edge of history, took on the town’s entire adult male population, said to have numbered an even one hundred, and to have exhausted them all in a single night. There was a statue of Annie, with a bunch of bananas thrown over one shoulder, in the city hall courtyard. Kim saw it from the train window as she pulled into town.

She got off, ate lunch, and rented a horse, which she rode through woods still wet from an early morning rain, past waterfalls and wallball courts, to the UDI office. United Distribution was located on the upper floor of a small log building. The lower level featured a communications shop and a liquor store. She went up a flight of stairs, followed the signs into a service area, and presented her ID number to the dex.

The system produced her package, laying it on the counter so she could see the label she’d addressed from Eagle Point. “Is this correct?” it asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Press here, please.” It wanted her thumb print on the delivery receipt. She complied, carried the package downstairs, and hefted it onto the horse. A man sleeping on the front deck woke up, looked at her, and said hello. Kim returned the greeting, climbed into the saddle and started back toward the station.

She rode slowly. It was a lovely spring day, but she was preoccupied with her surroundings, prepared to bolt at the first sign of danger. The forest made her vulnerable, and it occurred to her belatedly that selecting a horse over a cab might not have been a good idea.

But no one appeared, and she arrived safely at the stable. She returned the animal and walked across to the station, where she sat down on a bench to await the train to Terminal City.

There were only a few others on the platform: a couple of families with children, several people dressed in ski clothes apparently headed for the mountains, and two persons who appeared to be traveling on business.

The Terminal City train came in from the east along a slow curve riding just above thick woods. It was silent at low speeds, and the view was blocked off by the station roof, so there was no advance warning that it was coming. It simply appeared on the bend, glided in, and settled into its well. A few passengers got off; the people who’d been waiting on the platform boarded. Kim, carrying the UDI parcel, joined them.

The train was more than half empty. She found a compartment where she could be alone, closed the glass door, and settled into a seat. They moved forward out of the station, gathered speed, slowed again to maneuver through a couple of ridges west of Marathon, and then climbed to the treetops and began accelerating.

Rivers and lakes flowed past. There would be no towns before Little Marseille, 150 kilometers away. That was not because there were no towns in the region, but because the velocity of the train required that it be kept away from inhabited areas. One rarely saw a human being from inside a maglev car traveling at full gait. Anyone who appeared tended to be down flat and holding on.

Kim undid the wrapping on the UDI parcel, opened one end, peeked in, and caught her breath. There was a scaled-down starship inside, but it was not the Valiant. She looked again at the label: it was the one she had addressed from Eagle Point.

Her heart began to hammer. She took it out of the package. The vehicle was the 376.

Woodbridge had a sense of humor.

She heard movement in the aisle, the compartment door opened, and a blond man in a charcoal jacket came in, glanced at her, and sat down opposite. She recognized him as one of the people who’d boarded with her at Marathon.

She closed the container. The nearby countryside was a blur; a distant range of hills passed majestically.

“Anything wrong, Dr. Brandywine?” the man asked.

She did not look at him. “You know there is,” she said.

He was silent a few moments. Then he showed her an ID. She missed his name but saw the words NATIONAL BUREAU OF COMPLIANCE circling a shield. “I wonder if I can ask you to come with me,” he said.

“Where?”

“Please.” He rose and opened the door for her.

She stepped past him.

“To your right, Doctor,” he said.

She preceded him down the passageway, passed into the next car, and, at his instruction, stopped outside a closed compartment. Curtains had been drawn over the windows. The blond man knocked. The door opened and he stepped aside.

Kim looked in and saw Canon Woodbridge. And the Valiant. It was on the seat beside him, a cloth thrown over it. But she knew the shape.

“Please come in, Kim,” he said, motioning her to sit down. “I’m sorry we’re meeting this way. I know this has been hard on you.” The door closed softly behind her.

“Hello, Canon.” She managed a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“No. I’d think not.” He glanced down at the Valiant. “Tell me,” he said, “is this really a starship?”

She tried to look puzzled. It was difficult under his penetrating gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Kim.” He sounded disappointed. She could trust him to do the right thing, his demeanor told her. Everything will be fine. Have no concern. “This will go much better if we’re honest with each other.” He drew the cloth aside. “Is this the ship from Orion?”

“That appears to be it,” she said, in a tone that conceded defeat.

“Incredible.” He touched it gently, as if fearing it might disintegrate. “It’s so small.”

She folded her arms and sat back, staring across at the seat opposite.

“I’m disappointed that you had so valuable an artifact in your possession and failed to inform me.”

“I’d have preferred to inform no one.”

“Yes,” he said. “Apparently. I thought I could trust you.”

“I knew you’d take it from me.”

“Kim.” The train had begun to sway and he put a restraining hand on the artifact. “I don’t think I understand your motives in this matter. I mean, this goes far beyond what’s good for you or me. What did you plan to do with this?”

“It’s of considerable value.” She dropped her eyes. Guilty as charged, you son of a bitch. “I was going to keep it.”