I felt as if I were falling. I tried to think it out. "...Tell me this, Wyman. Will there be any penalty clauses in my contract?"

He looked amused. "Such as?"

"For not getting there first."

"What's going to beat the Susy drive?"

"A Xeelee nightship."

Expressions chased across his face.

"All right, Doctor. I accept your point. The Xeelee are one of the parameters we have to work within. There'll be no penalty clauses."

Above my head the Restaurant's geostationary anchor congealed out of starlight into a mile-wide cuboid.

"Now the details," Wyman said. "I want you to make a stop on the way, at the home world of the Ghosts..."

Wyman's "ship" was a man-sized tin can.

It was stored in an open garage on the space-facing side of the Elevator Anchor. The thing's cylindrical symmetry was broken by strap-on packages: I recognized a compact hyperdrive and an intrasystem drive box. Set in one wall was a fist-sized fusion torus.

Wyman pointed out a black, suitcase-sized mass clinging to the pod's base. "The Susy drive," he said. "Neat, isn't it?"

I found half the hull would turn transparent. The interior of the pod was packed with instrument boxes, leaving precious little room for me.

I studied the pod with mild distaste. "Wyman, you expect me to cross the Universe... in this?"

He shrugged delicately. "Doctor, this is the best my private capital could fund. I've not had a cent of support from any human authority. Governments, universities, so-called research bodies... in the shadow of the Xeelee mankind is suffering a failure of imagination, Luce. We live in sorry times."

"Yeah."

"And that's why I've set up a meeting with the Ghosts on the way out. This flying coffin isn't much, but at least it demonstrates our intent. We're going for the prize. Perhaps it will persuade the Ghosts that we should pool our resources."

"Ah. So this pod is really a bargaining counter... you don't mean it to make the journey after all?" I felt a mixture of relief -- and profound regret.

"Oh, no," Wyman said. "What I told you is true. I sincerely believe the Susy drive could beat the Ghosts to the prize. If necessary. But why not spread the risk?" He grinned, his teeth white in the gloom of his helmet.

I left a day later.

Our Universe is an eleven-dimensional object. All but four of those dimensions are compactified -- rolled up to an unimaginable thinness. What we call hyperspace is one of those extra dimensions.

The hyperdrive module twisted me smoothly through ninety degrees and sent me skimming over the surface of the Universe like a pebble over a pond.

Of course, I felt nothing. Hyperspace travel is routine. With the pod's window opaqued, it was like riding an elevator. I was left with plenty of time to brood. When I checked the pod's external monitors I could see the Susy-space module clinging to the hull, dormant and mysterious.