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important enough to be called before Chancellor Seaton.
    “Come in, Lisa,” Seaton said when she entered his office. “Have a seat.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    After sitting, she was surprised to note that Seaton appeared nervous. If so, she realized with a start, it was the first time she had seen him that way. “Before we go any farther, Lisa, I need your word that what I am about to say won’t go beyond this room.”
    “You have it.”
    “The Stellar Survey has asked me to recommend a linguist for a project they have going on in orbit.
    Would you be interested?”
    “Me? In orbit? Whatever for?”
    “They didn’t give me the details. I can tell you that the World Coordinator has endorsed the request.
    Whatever it is, you can expect that it will look good on your resume once you finish the job. It will also reflect well on the university.”
    “Why me?” she asked.
    “Because tolerance for microgravity degrades with age and you are the youngest person in the department. In addition, you are one of the best linguists I know. And, if you must have a third reason, they said they preferred someone who is not married.”
    “What could they possibly want with a linguist?” Lisa mused, almost to herself. Then, when the comment about her marital status sank in, “Just how long will I be gone?”
    “The coordinator only said that you could expect to be away for several months.”
    “Who will take my classes?”
    “Ardmore can handle most of them, and we’ll get Shipingdale to help out. Don’t worry, we’ll manage.”
    “And you can’t tell me what I’ll be doing?”
    “All I know is that it is a matter of some urgency.”
    “This is silly, Chancellor! They really expect me to make up my mind without telling me anything about the project? I thought things like this only happen in historical holofilms.”
    “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Seaton agreed. “That, coupled with the coordinator’s interest, should give you some idea of the importance.”
    “Or else the bureaucrats are merely playing their damned power games.”
    “I am sure that if you find the assignment not to your liking, you can always resign. Nothing will be said if we find you back here in a week. Now then, your decision, please.”
    “I suppose I’ll do it. When do I leave?”
    “They’ve booked you on this afternoon’s flight out of Sahara Spaceport, if you can make it.”
    Lisa let her eyes go wide as she considered the implications. She had thought his comment about being back in a week had been rhetorical. She had expected to have time to prepare for the trip and coordinate with those who were taking over her classes. She could not possibly leave this afternoon!
    “You’re not serious.”
    “I am very serious, Professor Arden. They were emphatic that I should put my selection on this afternoon’s booster. Now then, are you still our volunteer?”
    Despite her misgivings, six hours later, Professor Lisa Arden, Ph.D., found herself forced deep into an acceleration couch as scramjet engines roared somewhere behind her and the outside sky turned from dark blue to jet black.
    #
    Her instructions were to take the C-Ring lift down to Gamma deck, and from there, to proceed sixty degrees to spinward, to Compartment G-103.
    As the lift descended into higher gravity, strange things happened to her inner ear. There was a name for the effect, she knew, but she could not remember it. When spin-gravity had climbed to approximately one-quarter of a standard gee, the doors opened to reveal a corridor that curved sharply upward in both directions. She turned to spinward (the direction being prominently marked on the opposite bulkhead) and began striding. G-103 was closer than expected and she nearly missed it. She pressed a recessed control in the corridor wall. A moment later, the door slid into its recess to reveal a small anteroom of the sort that guards the entrance to most airport and spaceport VIP lounges.
    “May I help