His thin hands curled up into tight knots.

The mother ships and the men who worked out of them were the legends of this generation—with the Sainte Marie foremost among them. Constantly working outward, putting system after system inside the known universe, they were the bright hungry wave of mankind reaching out to gather in the stars. The men were the towering figures marching into the wilderness—the men who died unprotestingly in the thousand traps laid by the unknown darkness beyond the Edge; the men who beat their way through the jungles of the night, leaving broad roads behind them for civilization to follow.

He had come aboard this ship like a man fulfilling a dream—and found Coogan sitting in the crew lounge.

“Imbry, huh? Pull up a chair. My name’s Coogan.” He was whipcord lean; a wiry, broad-mouthed man with a tough, easy grin and live brown eyes. “TSN man?”

Imbry’d shaken his hand before he sat down. It felt a little unreal, actually meeting a man he’d heard so much about, and having him act as friendly as this.

“That’s right,” Imbry said, trying to sound as casual as he could under the circumstances. Except for Lindenhoff and possibly Maguire, Coogan was the man he most admired. “My enlistment finally ran out last week. I was a rescue specialist.”

Coogan nodded. “We get some good boys that way.” He grinned and chuckled. “So Old Smiley slipped you a trial contract and here you are, huh?”

“Old Smiley?”

“Personnel manager. Glad hand, looks sincere, got distinguished white hair.”

“Oh. Mr. Redstone.”

Coogan grinned. “Sure. Mr. Redstone. Well—think you’ll like it here?”

Imbry nodded. “It looks like it,” he said carefully. He realized he had to keep his enthusiasm ruthlessly under control, or else appear to be completely callow and juvenile. Even before he’d known what he’d do after he got out, he’d been counting the days until his TSN enlistment expired. Having the Corporation offer him a contract on the day of his discharge had been a tremendous unexpected bonus. If he’d been sixteen instead of twenty-six, he would have said it was the greatest thing that could have happened to him. Being twenty-six, he said, “I figure it’s a good deal.”