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what he seriously wanted to. There was no reason he should allow others to have all the fun. Especially now since Carlucci had named that world’s sun for the tribe.
    Nine or ten hours after April’s mission had returned with its news about Eden, he visited the Roundhouse. The chairman would not have been easy to pick out of a crowd. He was short, with unremarkable features, and might have seemed more likely to be found repairing rooftops or cars than conducting meetings in a council hall. There was no hint ofauthority in his mien or his voice, nor was there a suggestion of the steel that could manifest itself when the need arose. His eyes were dark and friendly, his bearing congenial. Those who knew him well understood that his primary strength lay in his ability to get people to tell him what they really believed, a talent as rare among Native Americans as among the rest of the population.
    He’d had a television and a computer installed in the transport room. When he walked in the door, CNN was interviewing Carlucci. He was explaining about light-years. Dale Tree was the senior duty officer present. The chairman said hello to everybody and took Dale aside. “I want to see the place,” he said. “Eden. I’ll only be there a few minutes. Can we manage that without having it become public?”
    Dale glanced over at the other two security people, John Colmar and Jack Swiftfoot. “I’ll let them know,” he said. “When did you want to go, Mr. Chairman?”
    â€œHow about now?”
    Dale walked over and talked briefly with the others. Then he arranged for Carlucci to take the reporters into the pressroom. When that had been done, he checked his sidearm, strolled over to a table, opened a drawer, and took out two pairs of gloves. He handed one to the chairman. “Ready when you are, sir.”
    The chairman nodded. “Thanks, Dale. Why don’t you stay with Professor Carlucci? In case he needs an assist. John or Jack can go with me. We’ll only be a couple of minutes.”
    Jack got the assignment. He was an average-sized guy who could disappear easily into a crowd. But he was a retired naval aviator who now did tour flights out of Devils Lake Regional Airport. He took the second pair of gloves from Dale, put them on, and walked over to the grid.
    Walker had brought a revolver. He checked to make sure it was still in his pocket, donned the gloves, and joined his escort. “Looks as if we’re off again,” he said with a smile. Jack had been the chairman’s pilot on numerous occasions.
    â€œI’ll go first,” Jack said. He stepped onto the grid and pressed the arrow icon. A sprinkle of lights appeared and expanded into a glowing cloud. It wrapped around him, and he faded from sight.
    â€œEnjoy your trip, Mr. Chairman,” said Dale. He shook Walker’s hand and left for the pressroom.
    Walker knew the program. The luminous cloud reappeared, then faded, depositing Jack’s pen on the grid. It was an indication everything was okay on the other end. John came over, apparently to assist, but Walker waved him away. “It’s okay, John. I’ve got it.” He picked up the pen and wasn’t entirely surprised that as he leaned forward to press the arrow he was pumping adrenaline. The cloud reappeared. It settled over him, the Roundhouse interior faded, John waved good-bye, and he was in a different place.
    Jack Swiftfoot was smiling. “Welcome to Eden, Mr. Chairman. Simultaneously our shortest and longest flight.”
    He opened the front door for the chairman, and Walker looked out at thick forest. He stepped down off the grid, walked across the room, and strode through the doorway into the new world. He’d timed everything to arrive at night. He wanted to see the two moons, but only one of them was in the sky. The night was full of stars, far more than he had ever seen from the Rez. A warm breeze whispered through the