Feeling somewhat odd and formal in his black pinstripe threepiece suit, stiffened cuffs and collar, and tightly knotted necktie, Hunt stepped out of the second car back from the one flying the presidential pennant on its hood, and helped Lyn out after him while the chauffeur held the door. Danchekker, similarly attired though nothing seemed to fit exactly as it was supposed to, came next, followed by Caldwell and a group of senior UNSA executives.
Hunt looked around and picked out the perceptron among a line of aircraft parked some distance away in the background. “It’s not really like home, is it,” he commented. “There aren’t any windows boarded up, and it needs some snow and a few mountains around.”
“I never thought you were sentimental,” Lyn said. She looked up. “Blue sky, and lots of green. I’ll stick with this.”
“Not a romantic who hankers for old times, I perceive,” Danchekker said.
Lyn shook her head. “After the amount of flying that I did back and forth to that place, I don’t care if I never see McClusky again.”
“We might be sending you a lot farther than that before very much longer,” CaIdwell grunted.
The Soviet Premier and his delegation had not yet emerged from the car immediately in front of them, but ahead of that the U.S. President and his entourage were assembling. Karen Heller and Norman Pacey detached themselves from the group and walked back. “Well, get used to it,” Paccy said, making a sweep-
ing gesture with his arm. “It’s going to be your new home for a while. I’ve got a feeling this place will get to feel like your own private airport. You people are going to be pretty busy.”
“We were just talking about it,” Lyn said. “Vic seems to prefer McClusky.”
“When will you be moving up to D.C.?” Heller inquired.
“It’ll be a few months yet at least,” Caldwell said.
She looked at Danchekker. “The first thing we’ll have to do is have dinner somewhere, Chris. It’ll make up for all those canteen meals in Alaska.”
“An admirable suggestion,” Danchekker replied. “And one with which I concur fully.” Lyn nudged Hunt in the ribs. Hunt looked away and grinned.
Pacey glanced at his watch and looked over his shoulder. So.broskin was leading the Soviet party from the car ahead. “It’s almost time,” he said. “We’d better move on up.” They walked forward to join the Soviet contingent, all of whom they had already met individually in the Executive Lounge earlier, and the whole group moved on to join the President and his party at the front of the cavalcade of limousines. Sobroskin moved closer to Pacey as they came to a halt. “The day has arrived, my friend,” he said. “The children will see other worlds under other stars.”
“And I told you you’d see it happen,” Pacey said.
Packard was looking at Pacey curiously. “What did that mean?” he asked.
Pacey smiled. “It’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you about it Sometime.”
Packard turned his head toward Caidwell. “Well, at least I know what to expect this time, Gregg. You know, I don’t think I’ll ever live that down.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Caidwell told him. “The rest of us were only a few seconds behind you.”
They moved toward the open area of the base and came to a halt again, arranged in orderly rectangular groups with the McClusky team, including Jerol Packard, at the front, the U.S. and Soviet leaders alongside each other behind them with Pacey and Sobroskin standing ahead of their respective national delegations, and the UNSA and other groups from the remaining cars arrayed at the back. Every head was turned upward, waiting. And
suddenly, sensed rather than heard, a wave of excitement rippled across the entire base and through the crowds packed outside.
The ship was abeady visible as a faint dot enlarging in the flawless blue above. As it grew larger, it took on a brilliant silvery sheen that glinted with reflected highlights in the sun, and resolved into a slender wedge with gracefully curved leading edges flaring to merge into two needle-pointed nacelles at the tips. And still it was getting larger.