He was one of the guys who’d rescued her when she was dangling over Maleiva III. Clay resembled him, congenial eyes, lantern jaw, thick black hair, the kind of guy you felt instinctively you wanted at your back if you were headed for trouble. “How’s he doing? I owe him.”

“He’s fine. Still with TransGalactic. He asked me to say hello.”

“Give him my best.”

“I will, Hutch. I should tell you that I owe you as well.”

“Why’s that, Clay?”

“You’re the reason I got into this business. You’ve set a serious example for the rest of us.”

They embraced, shared a few more jokes about their reactions to the anger around them, and after a few minutes were joined by Ken, Beth’s husband. “Sorry,” he told them. “Traffic jam.” He was even bigger than Clay.

•  •  •

Derek was waiting when they docked at Union. “Glad to see you guys,” he said. “They’re still working on the ship, so we’ll be staying in the Starview tonight. Don’t worry about your luggage. They know where it’s going. I take it you’ve all been introduced to one another?”

Hutch was happy to see there were no more demonstrators. They all shook hands with Derek while he suggested they have dinner and relax for a while. “I heard about the problem on the ground,” he said. “I wish we could have kept all this quiet until we got clear. We’re just not very good at keeping secrets.” He glanced at Ken. “How’s the book coming?”

Ken had been a catcher with the Boston Red Sox, and he looked it. He’d stayed in shape and moved with the ease of a track and field athlete. Hutch had watched a couple of his presentations and been struck by the degree to which his amiable features could clash with the sudden intensity that showed up periodically in his blue eyes. “I’ll let you know,” he said, “when we get back.”

“I hope it has a happy ending.” Derek had obviously wanted a more upbeat response. “Somebody want to pick a restaurant?” They had arrived in front of Big Bang Burgers, and everybody looked in its direction. “All right, why do any unnecessary walking? Let’s go over there and chow down, and then we’ll get checked into the Starview.”

The Union Space Station ran on GMT, which was approaching six forty-five p.m. when they arrived at the hotel. “So we’re all together on the details,” said Derek after they’d signed in, “we’re going to try to get out of here by nine tomorrow morning. We’ve been hearing about a last-minute effort to close us down, so we want to go as soon as the service people give us the ship. Meet in the lobby. Nobody be late, okay?”

He got assurances, wished them good night, and headed out the door.