“After whatever ensues. Friendly relations, indifference, the end of the world as we know it: money might not be at the top of anyone’s requests.”

“It’s already the end of the world as we know it.” Pavesi said it so softly that only Dev overheard her.

“Any other questions?” It had been evident from the first that Colonel Lackland was not a man to waste time. Individual personality traits aside, the rush to action concerned Dev.

“Yes. There are people I’d like to …” He hesitated.

Lackland finished for him. “Say goodbye to? Explain what’s going on? Not possible. You can’t tell anyone where you’re going or what you’ll be doing. From the moment you leave this room anything you do or say will be considered an issue of national security and subject to all appropriate restrictions and penalties. When you get to Houston, you’ll be met by people with whom you can broach matters of personal interest.” There was a modicum of sympathy in his voice as he addressed Dev directly. “Once all of you arrive, Mr. Mukherjee can probably answer some of your general questions. He works for NASA and will know his way around the Center.” Not knowing how else to respond, Dev nodded in confirmation of the obvious.

He was not the only one curious as to the reason for such haste. “What’s the hurry?” Katou-Zimmer wondered aloud. “Why can’t we have a day to gather ourselves? To prepare, at least just a little.”

“There is some preliminary research that, if we are given time to do it, might help in facilitating initiating formal contact,” her husband declared. “Materials that might usefully be perused, even in haste.”

“You can request they be given to you when you’re on the plane that’s waiting for you,” Lackland told him. “Anything you want can be downloaded before you depart, or while you’re in the air.” The Colonel’s gaze shifted to Katou-Zimmer. “As for the rush, it seems we’re not the only ones the visitors are interested in talking to. They have made arrangements to meet contact teams elsewhere besides outside Houston.”

“Where? Gavin Reed, consul—team member.” Speaking for the first time, the fifth member of the contact group had a deep voice and spoke with a precision that had clearly been well-practiced. College debater, Dev mused. Maybe an ex-lawyer. Not quite big enough or fast enough to be a professional football player, not tall enough to be a professional basketball player, and too smart to try and build a short career out of getting banged around by others less intelligent than himself. Lawyer, maybe, though that vocation didn’t fit the need at hand. Whatever the visitors wanted it was unlikely to involve formal litigation. Dev decided that Gavin Reed, regardless of his actual vocation, looked wholly competent.

Lackland turned his attention to Reed. “Near Moscow. Also Brussels and Beijing.”