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holographic sphere surrounding them. The probe rotated along its axis so that each of its instruments would be exposed to the entire panorama of the sky.
    There was no visible target for the probe--at least, not yet. But its course had been computed so that it would enter the shortcut at the exact angle specified by CHAT. When it did so, the probe seemed to disappear, a tiny ring of violet fire swallowing it up.
    "In friendship I observe that passage through the shortcut was normal,"
    reported Rhombus in his rich Oxford tones.
    And now the waiting began. Each person showed tension in a different way. Lianne at InOps drummed her painted fingernails on the edge of her console. The lights on Rhombus's web flashed randomly--not a coherent pictogram, but just a sign of mental agitation. Jag picked at his fur and slid his translucent dental plates across each other, making a faint chalk-on-slate sound. Keith got up and paced. Rissa busied herself organizing files on her computer.
    Only the unflappable Thoraid Magnor seemed calm, swinging his giant feet onto his console, and leaning back in his chair, hands interlaced behind his orange mane.
    But despite Thor's appearance, there was reason for concern. Ten years ago, a boomerang launched from Tau Ceti had reached its target, a dormant shortcut near the M3-class star Tejat Posterior in the constellation Gemini.
    That boomerang never returned to Tau Ceti. Instead, at about the time it was supposed to come home, a smooth ball of metal shot out of the Rehbollo shortcut. Analysis determined that the ball was the remains of the probe after some process had briefly broken all molecular bonds in its construction.
    The word "process" had been deliberately chosen for the public reports, but many believed that no natural activity could have done that, not even if the Tejat Posterior shortcut exit had been inside a star's core.
    The hypothetical beings responsible were dubbed "Slammers," because they'd apparently slammed the interstellar doorway in the Commonwealth's collective face.
    Additional hyperspace probes with heavy shielding had been sent toward Tejat Posterior (from launch points well away from any-of the Commonwealth homeworlds), but it would still be another two years before they arrived there.
    Until they did, the mystery of the Slammers remained unresolved--but there was always a fear that they might be lurking behind other shortcuts.
    "With relief, I report a tachyon pulse," announced Rhombus.
    Keith let out his breath; he hadn't been aware that he'd been holding it until then. The pulse meant something was coming through the shortcut; the probe was returning. They watched as the shortcut grew from an infinitesimal point to a meter in diameter, with a violet periphery. The cylindrical object popped through. Keith nodded slightly: the probe appeared undamaged. It maneuvered back toward Starplex under its own power, meaning its internal electronics were still intact, and slid down the launching tube into its berth.

    Umbilicals were attached to it, and its store of data was uploaded into PHANTOM, Starplex's central computer.
    "Let's see it," Keith said, and Rhombus complied, replacing the spherical hologram of space outside Starplex with what the probe had seen on the other side of the shortcut. At first, it just seemed to be more space, different constellations enveloping them. There were murmurs of disappointment.
    One always hoped that a spacecraft would be visible--a ship from whatever race had brought the shortcut on-line.
    Jag got out of his chair, and walked around to stand in front of the two rows of workstations. He rotated on his hooves, looking at various parts of the hologram, then began interpreting what was visible for the rest of them. "Well," said a translated Brooklyn accent overtop of his dog barks, "it looks like normal interstellar space. Just what you'd expect for the Perseus Arm--lots of blue stars, not too densely packed."
    He stopped and pointed. "See that