"Just a moment." She glanced at something below the angle of the screen. She looked up and her eyes were grave. "_Rickrock C_ arrived yesterday. Departed for Tunney early this morning." "Departed?" He got up and sat down again, swallowing hard. "When will the next ship arrive?" "Do you know how many stars there are in the Galaxy?" she asked. He didn't answer. * * * * * "That's right," she said. "Billions. Tunney, according to the notation, is near the center of the Galaxy, inside the third ring. You've covered about a third of the distance to it. Local traffic, anything within a thousand light-years, is relatively easy to manage. At longer distances, you take a chance. You've had yours and missed it. Frankly, Cassal, I don't know when another ship bound for Tunney will show up on or near Godolph. Within the next five years--maybe." * * * * * He blanched. "How long would it take to get there using local transportation, star-hopping?" "Take my advice: don't try it. Five years, if you're lucky." "I don't need that kind of luck." "I suppose not." She hesitated. "You're determined to go on?" At the emphatic nod, she sighed. "If that's your decision, we'll try to help you. To start things moving, we'll need a print of your identification tab." "There's something funny about her," Dimanche decided. It was the usual speaking voice of the instrument, no louder than the noise the blood made in coursing through arteries and veins. Cassal could hear it plainly, because it was virtually inside his ear. Cassal ignored his private voice. "Identification tab? I don't have it with me. In fact, I may have lost it." She smiled in instant disbelief. "We're not trying to pry into any part of your past you may wish concealed. However, it's much easier for us to help you if you have your identification. Now if you can't _remember_ your real name and where you put your identification--" She arose and left the screen. "Just a moment." He glared uneasily at the spot where the first counselor wasn't. His _real_ name! "Relax," Dimanche suggested. "She didn't mean it as a personal insult." Presently she returned. "I have news for you, whoever you are." "Cassal," he said firmly. "Denton Cassal, sales engineer, Earth. If you don't believe it, send back to--" He stopped. It had taken him four months to get to Godolph, non-stop, plus a six-month wait on Earth for a ship to show up that was bound in the right direction. Over distances such as these, it just wasn't practical to send back to Earth for anything. "I see you understand." She glanced at the card in her hand. "The spaceport records indicate that when _Rickrock C_ took off this morning, there was a Denton Cassal on board, bound for Tunney 21."