“I hope I haven’t gotten you into any trouble. But we had to get it out.”

“It’s okay. Looks like a good cause. I’m glad to have helped. Sorry I didn’t get it out sooner.”

“Mom, I owe you. Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

•  •  •

She’d just passed under the beltway when Jack called again. “It’s running,” he said. “We broke in on the Alison MacPherson Show. That’s the good news.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“The NSB is here.” The National Security Bureau. “They’re down now trying to get into Branton’s office.” Hutch didn’t recognize the name, but the message was clear enough.

She set the car radio for Cosmic and listened to Arin describing his reaction when he’d gone out and looked at the black hole. “It was terrifying,” he was saying, while his voice trembled. Kwylla talked about her appreciation to the humans who had offered to help. “We will always be in your debt, Hutch. You and your friends have been priceless.”

“How did you feel about Utopia?” Hutch asked.

“It scares me,” she said, “that we have to leave our home. The world you took us to is beautiful, but I wish we could stay where we are.”

“But,” said Arin, “we are thankful there is a place we can retreat to. I hope we can make it happen, but whether we do or not, that we can one day show our gratitude for everything you’ve done.”

The car continued along the interstate. Finally, it turned off onto Capitol Drive, passed the Agriculture Department, made a left onto Merriweather Street, and pulled into the Cosmic parking lot. There was, fortunately, no sign of law enforcement activity, no official vehicles or blinking lights. And there seemed nothing unusual going on as she went through the front door into the lobby. A young woman sat behind a counter. “Can I help you, ma’am?” she asked.

“My name’s Priscilla Hutchins. I’m looking for Jack Crispee.”

“Oh, yes, Ms. Hutchins. He told me you were coming. Hold one second. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Fixed high on the wall behind her, a large screen was running the current Cosmic program. Except that it wasn’t her conversation with the Volarians. MacPherson was back on, talking with Carson Bennett, the NAU Secretary of State. “Excuse me,” she said, “what is that?”

She looked up at it. “That’s odd. It’s Alison MacPherson. They were running the alien interview a few minutes ago. Some strange stuff going on today. I thought—” Her eyes widened. “You’re the woman who was conducting the interview.”

“Yes.”

“It was an incredible—” Her commlink sounded. “Hold on.” She picked it up, listened a moment, said “Okay,” and held it out for Hutch. “Mr. Crispee.”

She took it. “Priscilla?”

“Yes.”

“The Feds shut us down.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do.”