“Right-hand side,” the officer snapped from the other side of the hatch, pointing again.

Deirdre opened the door and immediately saw that the torch ship’s interior was colorfully decorated. The compartment’s walls were covered with brightly patterned fabric. The overhead glowed with glareless lighting. The deck was thickly carpeted in rich earth tones of green and brown. Carpets! she thought. Incredible luxury, compared to Chrysalis II’s utilitarian décor. And this is just an anteroom, she realized.

In front of her there was another door, marked EMBARKATION RECEPTION. Deirdre tapped on it, and when no one answered, she cautiously slid it open.

A man in a white uniform was sitting behind a metal desk in the middle of the compartment. The bulkheads on both sides glowed pearl gray: smart screens, Deirdre recognized. Behind the seated officer another wall screen displayed a scene of golden-leafed trees, a forest of Earth, heartbreakingly beautiful.

The man got slowly to his feet. He, too, was Asian, and no taller than Deirdre’s chin. He smiled and made a courtly little bow, fists clenched at his sides.

“Welcome to Australia,” he said. Gesturing to the gracefully curved chair of leather and chrome in front of the desk, he invited, “Please, Ms. Ambrose, be seated and allow me to introduce myself: I am Dr. Lin Pohan, ship’s medical officer.”

Dr. Pohan was as small as the surly officer who had ushered Deirdre aboard the Australia. He was almost totally bald, except for a fringe of dull gray hair, but a luxuriant mustache of silver gray curled across his face. His skin was spiderwebbed with creases, and as he smiled at Deirdre his eyes crinkled with good humor. He looked like a wrinkled old gnome to Deirdre. She realized this man had never taken rejuvenation treatments. She had learned in her history classes that some people on Earth shunned rejuv on religious grounds. Could he be one of them?