For the first time since his arrival at Houston, Hunt detected a hint of emotion in the American's voice. He nodded slowly, though still not comprehending.

"You didn't drag me here to give me a UNSA commercial," he said.

"No, I didn't," Caldwell agreed. "I dragged you over because it's time we had a serious talk. I know enough about you to know how the wheels go round inside your head. You are made out of the same stuff as the guys who are making all the things happen out there." He sat back in his chair and held Hunt's gaze with a direct stare. "I want you to quit messing around at IDCC and come over to us."

The statement caught Hunt like a right hook.

"What . . . ! To Navcomms!"

"Correct. Let's not play games. You're the kind of person we need, and we can give you the things you need. I know I don't have to make a big speech to explain myself."

Hunt's initial surprise lasted perhaps half a second. Already the computer in his head was churning out answers. Caldwell had been building toward this and testing him out for weeks. So, that was why he had moved in Navcomms engineers to take over running the scope. Had the thought been in his mind as long ago as that? Already Hunt had no doubt what the outcome of the interview would be. However, the rules of the game demanded that the set questions be posed and answered before anything final could be pronounced. Instinctively he reached for his cigarette case, but Caldwell preempted him and slid his cigar box across the desk.

"You seem pretty confident you've got what I need," Hunt said as he selected a Havana. "I'm not sure even I know what that is."

"Don't you . . . ? Or is it that you just don't like talking about it?" Caldwell stopped to light his own cigar. He puffed until satisfied, then continued: "New Cross to the Journal of the Royal Society, solo. Some achievement." He made a gesture of approval. "We like self-starters over here—sorta . . . traditional. What made you do it?" He didn't wait for a reply. "First electronics, then mathematics . . . after that nuclear physics, later on nucleonics. What's next Dr. Hunt? Where do you go from there?" He settled back and exhaled a cloud of smoke while Hunt considered the question.

Hunt raised his eyebrows in mild admiration. "You seem to have been doing your homework," he said.

Caldwell didn't answer directly but asked, simply, "How was your uncle in Lagos when you visited him on vacation last year? Did he prefer the weather to Worcester, England? Seen much of Mike from Cambridge lately? I doubt it—he joined UNSA; he's been at Hellas Two on Mars for the last eight months. Want me to go on?"

Hunt was too mature to feel indignant; besides, he liked to see a professional in action. He smiled faintly.

"Ten out of ten."