At about the time Beekman's bed was being taken apart, all four superluminals left orbit.

Canyon's commlink vibrated. It was Chastain. He brought the image up. The captain was seated in the cockpit. "August," he said, "in case you're wondering, we're headed out to the assembly. You might be able to get some good visuals."

"Yes," said Canyon. "I've done a few interviews on it. I'll tell you, Miles, I wish it had turned out to be an alien ship. It's a long piece of metal, but it's still just a piece of metal."

"I know. I've also received a request from Captain Clairveau on Wendy. They're still working on ways to bail out their people, and they want our help. So I'm putting Zwick at their disposal."

"Good," said Canyon, thinking how well that would play. UNN to the rescue. "But why do they need us? What do they want us to do?"

"I don't have the details." He glanced at the time. "There's a briefing in four minutes. I'll pipe it in. You might want to inform Emma."

Canyon nodded. However the scenario went, it couldn't help but translate into a huge boost in the ratings. Who out there would be so jaded as not to watch?

Janet Hazelhursf took control of her volunteers in the Bryant Auditorium. They were required to sign a document holding Trans-Galactic harmless in the event of misadventure. When that had been accomplished, Captain Clairveau of the Wendy Jay talked to them about the dangers of the situation. "We hope that you won't have to go outside," he said. "I want to emphasize that your training is precautionary only."

Janet noted that some of the volunteers looked disappointed to hear it. That, she thought, was an encouraging start.

"If you do have to go out," Clairveau continued, "we'll do everything possible to minimize the risk. But to be honest, it'll be in your hands. The real danger arises because of your lack of experience in what we'll be asking you to do. You'll be functioning in a zero-gee environment, and you'll be using lasers.

"The e-suit that you'll be wearing will be comfortable. It'll keep you warm, and it is almost foolproof. But it will not withstand a laser, so we'll expect you to be careful. We're going to show you how to use the lasers, how to weld, and how to do it in zero gee. And how to do it safely. You'll have an opportunity to practice under zero-gee conditions inside the ship. You'll do nothing for the next three days except practice."

Clairveau was tall, good-looking, confident. Janet was inclined to trust him. "As you know," he continued, "Morgan's World is getting close. That means there'll be some debris floating around out there. Rocks. Dust. Ice. Who knows-

"We'll have sensors on the lookout constantly. But there's no way to be absolutely safe. Consequently, if any of you want to rethink doing this, we'll understand."

A few did.

"I have people at home who depend on me."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to help, but I didn't think it would be like this."

"I have kids."

"Sometimes I have a problem with heights."

Most stayed.

Janet was newly widowed. Not that she minded. Her ex had always been something of a bore. He'd had no imagination, had spent a lifetime watching himself portray Robin Hood and George Washington and Leonidas at Thermopylae (except that in his version the Spartans won), and his idea of a romantic evening out consisted of having dinner at the lodge with his buddies.

She'd considered not renewing every time extension came up. But she'd never taken that fatal step because her husband had loved her. He'd remained faithful, God help her, and had always remembered birthdays and anniversaries. They'd had two good children, and he had been an exemplar of a father. She could not have failed to renew without devastating him, and there was no way she could have brought herself to do that. So she'd stayed with him, bored and yearning for excitement, through all those long years.

Everyone thought they were an ideal couple. / wish my George were more like your Will. Will had even retained his good looks, although the smile had lost some of the old electricity. When an undetected aneurysm killed him, she'd mourned for an appropriate period, and then boarded the Evening Star, as she told her friends, to try to get past her loss.

Her fellow passengers knew nothing of all this. Janet had discovered that she loved her newfound freedom, and she'd been having a pretty good time.

Now she had an opportunity to call on an old skill and do something heroic. She was charged with the responsibility to train the volunteers in welding and cutting techniques. Marcel had sat with her, and they'd planned how they would handle the operation. She started by asking who knew what a weld was. She demonstrated by joining two pieces of metal.

"Simple," she said.

She let one of the volunteers do it.

The trick to achieving a proper weld, she informed her students, was to get intimate contact between the two surfaces. Expose clean metal. Then the atoms can be joined properly. Intimately. It was her favorite term. When we're finished, the atoms in the two pieces will be as close to each other as the atoms in either piece are to each other. That was the goal.

She explained proper technique, demonstrated, let them try it, and kept them at it until they could do it without thinking. They practiced cutting up shelving that was no longer in use, taking apart storage bins and slicing cabinets. Then they put everything back together.

"It's easy to do in here," she warned them. "When you get outside, you'll find you have a lot to think about. But the job is the same, and the technique is the same. Just do not allow yourself to be distracted."

She had some pieces of what they all called impossibilium, the material from which the assembly was made. They practiced cutting it and welding it back together. She emphasized safety, and booted three who were too casual in their approach. "Mistakes will cost," she told them. "Careless will get you killed. Or will kill someone else." And later: "It's really not hard. But you have to keep your mind on what you're doing."

She sent them off to dinner and brought them back for another round.

This time, when she gave them a chance to leave, everyone stayed.

They worked until almost 11:00 p.m. Then she thanked them for their attention, dismissed them, and told them they would start next day at six. "We'll be working in our e-suits tomorrow," she said. "I want you to get used to them."

Someone wanted to know whether that meant they were going outside after all.

"No," she said. "Not yet." And she was pleased to hear them grumble.

The Evening Star offered a handful of compartments to Marcel's team. Unfortunately, no VIP accommodation remained available for the captain himself. Nicholson offered, in the time-honored tradition, to donate his own quarters to his visitor. Marcel, as was expected, replied that would never do, and that he would be pleased to take whatever could be had. A cot by the forward mixer, he said, would serve the purpose. He received a unit on the port side amidships that was far more comfortable, and more spacious by half, than his quarters on Wendy.

It was late morning when he left the welders, and he'd been up all night. He climbed out of his uniform and lay down, planning to nap for a half hour before returning to Nicholson's bridge. He'd barely closed his eyes when his link chimed.

"Marcel?" It was Abel Kinder's voice. Abel was the senior climatologist on Wendy. He was heading a team monitoring conditions around Deepsix for signs of planetary disintegration.

"Hello, Abel," he said. "What do you have?"

"Some serious storms, looks like. And an intensification of seismic activity."

"Any of it in the tower area?"

"They're going to have some movement, but the worst of it should be northeast of them. At sea."