“Hello,” she said. Her eyes swept up and down his uniform curiously. “You wish to see the commissioner?”
Deitrich nodded. He handed her the capsule of the squad tape, along with his personal identification capsule.
“Just one moment, sir,” she said. “I’ll decode this immediately.” She left her seat and proceeded to the rear corner of the room, glancing at the personal capsule a moment before inserting it into the machine.
“Extrasystemal, I see,” she commented. “How does it feel to be back in time again, commander?”
“Not commander,” Deitrich corrected her. “Captain.” Then he added politely, “Fine.”
The woman turned her head and smiled briefly, showing even while teeth. “I guess you’re rather tired of answering that one, captain.”
Deitrich returned the smile without comment and waited.
As she manipulated the machine, she softly hummed an obscure but vaguely familiar melody. But before Deitrich could put his finger on what about it pleased him so much, there came a smothered mutter and clacking, and out popped a little plastic coupon.
“There we are,” she murmured. She returned slowly, reading it aloud as she walked. “Captain Fritz Deitrich, XM39La Home Galaxy Fleet code—” Her voice trailed off, lips still moving as she continued silently reciting the designation of the fleet, origin and destination, and the pilot commission data. As she came to the end her eyes widened, and she looked sharply up at him.
“Terra!” she exclaimed. “Third century.”