“Aw, shucks,” said Nordbo. “Isn't that your American expression?”

“Your triumph calls for a drink, followed by unbridled celebration.” And, Saxtorph thought, what happens at the cannibal star will be fun to watch when the databases arrive home. We'll've been having real-time adventures just as much fun, or maybe more.

He took forth his pipe and tobacco pouch. “First, though, fill me in, will you? Who's going to carry the mission?”

“I helped arrange that too,” Nordbo told him. “A little reshifting of schedules made the Freuchen available.”

“Oh, fine. She is mainly for exploration—done good work in the past… A tad crowded, maybe, for an expedition like this, with the tonne of gear I imagine they'll want to take.”

“They'll have ample extra room. A naval vessel will escort them.”

Saxtorph grinned. “Well, well. The ISC's being smart for a change. Nothing ‘provocative,' no, never; but the kitty-cats won't be tempted to touch off an ‘incident' and claim afterward it was our side's fault.”

Nordbo nodded. “That's the unspoken idea. Nobody wants a fight, myself least.”

“The Freuchen… Yah, the establishment, scientists and politicians both, owe us one, over and above the puppeteer contract. They owe you, rather.”

Nordbo gave his friend a steady look. “I cashed in that part of it. Which is why I'm especially relieved by their having an escort.”

“Hey?”

“Tyra's going along.”

“Huh?”

“She was after me about it from the first. A writer by trade, and what a story to tell! I managed to make her assignment part of the bargain, and didn't suppose you would object. Not but what they won't get their money's worth. She'll make the public love that science.”

“Well, yes, she always was a venturesome sort. Not strange, seeing she's your daughter.” And can wind you around her finger, Saxtorph said silently. As she damn near did me, till she decided not to finish the job. I've never said anything to you or anybody. Nor did I stay regretful. Dorcas and me do belong together.