Anti em, Martin's inner voice said, too late. Martin's inner voice said, too late. The bombships and mines were changed into anti-matter. The bombships and mines were changed into anti-matter.

The star sphere flickered back for a fraction of a second, showing a lump of twisted, torch-bright wreckage careening through the weapons store, setting off violent blasts and shrapnel wherever it touched. The bombship disintegrated into hissing, sizzling shards; ambiplasma filled the weapons store, and again the sphere disappeared.

Martin's wand sang with warnings and messages, too many to be projected at once. The ship will do something without consulting us. The ship will do something without consulting us.

"Weapons store and the whole hemisphere is going," Theresa said from outside. "What happened?"

The other bombships contributed to the chatter.

Stephanie Wing Feather was the last to be heard: "Tortoise, "Tortoise, the aft hemisphere is cracking-" the aft hemisphere is cracking-"

Tortoise spun violently like a whirled dumb-bell, accelerating out of control. Messages from the bombships ceased. spun violently like a whirled dumb-bell, accelerating out of control. Messages from the bombships ceased.

The noise that sang through Tortoise Tortoise now was more than he could bear. Screaming, Martin shut his eyes and waited for death. now was more than he could bear. Screaming, Martin shut his eyes and waited for death.

The protective fields around them abruptly vanished and they were shoved into an agonized ma.s.s in one corner of the cafeteria, arms and knees and heads and torsos interlocking with the force as if manipulated by a giant puzzlemaker. Bones cracked and blood misted.

The fields came on again, but jammed the crew against one another, unable to pick them apart and suspend them separately. All was failing; control was gone, they could see nothing and feel nothing but their crush and pain.

The ship twisted like a snake. Martin opened his eyes and tried to move but could not. He lay meshed with Andrew Jaguar, Hakim pressed behind him. Martin's face threw globules of blood against a bulkhead in the flashing twilight. Barely three or four seconds had pa.s.sed; he still clutched his wand, and Hakim's fist and wand ground into his calf. He could not move or think.

All had returned to the animal, to protoplasm.

Fear and the smell of blood and pressure like an enormous hand grinding them into the cafeteria wall I'm sorry Theresa William Relief. Blessed nothing.

I suppose it picked us apart and put us here, was his first thought on awakening and finding himself surrounded by a green net and a gently throbbing field. Suspended in the field, all his body a huge bruise, medical doers like tiny golden worms criss-crossing, touching his bruised flesh, nothing touching him but the golden worms, mouth dry but not parched, top of head burning. was his first thought on awakening and finding himself surrounded by a green net and a gently throbbing field. Suspended in the field, all his body a huge bruise, medical doers like tiny golden worms criss-crossing, touching his bruised flesh, nothing touching him but the golden worms, mouth dry but not parched, top of head burning.

They all hung in darkness. A cool breeze p.r.i.c.ked the hairs on his head and chest. For a moment Martin thought of being dead, corpses laid out for ejection into s.p.a.ce. But all the green fields pulsed gently and doers wove around them all. He could not see to identify the faces and he could not count all the bodies so suspended.

William is dead. And Fred Falcon.

There were others awake now, making sounds not like moans, more like sighs and whimpers. All too weak to talk.

A mom floated beside Martin. He did not know whether it actually appeared out of nothing, or whether his attention had flagged; consciousness was a sometime thing under the ministration of the golden worms.

"How long since we were hurt?" he asked.

"Two tendays," the mom said. He noticed a remnant of black and white paint on the front; this was still the War Mother.

"Where are we?"

"We have moved to a wide orbit around Nebuchadnezzar. There has been no further attempt to damage the ship."

"Why not? They could kill us."

"I do not know," the War Mother answered.

"How many of us died?"

"No one aboard Tortoise Tortoise has died, but all are injured. Half of has died, but all are injured. Half of Tortoise Tortoise was destroyed. William Arrow Feather and Fred Falcon died first. Yueh Yellow River's craft disintegrated." was destroyed. William Arrow Feather and Fred Falcon died first. Yueh Yellow River's craft disintegrated."

"They were turned into anti em, weren't they?"

"Yes."

"Anti-matter doesn't behave exactly like matter...Their chemistry was going wrong, wasn't it? I should have known that. I should have seen the clues, the sparkles...Our outga.s.sing and fuel remnants reacting with the bombship. I should have seen seen it." it."

"I also did not draw the right conclusions until it was too late. You are not to blame," the War Mother said.

"There were four. The other two...What happened to Stephanie and Theresa? Can you convert them back to matter?"

"We cannot," the War Mother said. "Tortoise collided with one of the unconverted craft during the explosion. Nguyen Mountain Lily and Ginny Chocolate died. Stephanie and Theresa survived. Hu East Wind, Michael Vineyard, Leo Parsifal, and Nancy Flying Crow are back aboard and safe. collided with one of the unconverted craft during the explosion. Nguyen Mountain Lily and Ginny Chocolate died. Stephanie and Theresa survived. Hu East Wind, Michael Vineyard, Leo Parsifal, and Nancy Flying Crow are back aboard and safe.

"Stephanie was killed later by my unsuccessful attempt to convert her craft back to matter. We do not have the technique or the understanding of how the conversion was accomplished-"

Martin turned his head away from the War Mother, knowing now that Theresa was dead, too.

"Stephanie Wing Feather's craft was only partially converted, or converted unevenly. It exploded, causing yet more damage to Tortoise." Tortoise."

"Then you tried again with Theresa."

"No. Theresa is still in her craft."

Martin jerked his head around. "She's alive?"

"She is still alive."

Martin's weak grip on consciousness wavered and the War Mother seemed to shimmer before him. He pushed the dark pressures away and said, "Let me speak to her."

The War Mother raised his wand to his hand with a slender green ladder field. The wand projected an image of Theresa's bombship into his eyes. The skin of her bombship still sparkled, but sharp pulses of light occurred much less often. The craft drifted a hundred kilometers from Tortoise. Tortoise.

Martin saw Theresa's face, wrapped in the folds of her couch, ladder fields glowing fitfully around her.

Martin spoke her name. She fumbled to complete the noach connection.

"You're awake," she said listlessly. Her face had yellowed, her hands ulcerated; her anti-matter chemistry, tuned to a slightly different physics, did not match her biological makeup. She was very ill. "I can't see you too well," Theresa said. "Were you badly hurt?"

"I think I'm healing. So are the others." His voice wobbled with emotion and he swallowed to control it. "I screwed up, Theresa."

"You couldn't have known."

"The ship's badly hurt, I think."

"The War Mother tells me about half of it is left," Theresa said. A picture of Tortoise Tortoise from her perspective grew above Theresa's image; one hemisphere, a blunt-ended, debris-scarred pylon, drives gone. "Some amazing things," Theresa said. "The moms actually used the explosion-William and Fred-to propel the ship away from Nebuchadnezzar. The ship turned into it, used it. I followed...we all followed." from her perspective grew above Theresa's image; one hemisphere, a blunt-ended, debris-scarred pylon, drives gone. "Some amazing things," Theresa said. "The moms actually used the explosion-William and Fred-to propel the ship away from Nebuchadnezzar. The ship turned into it, used it. I followed...we all followed."

"How...How are you feeling?" Martin asked.

"I've been in this can for two tendays. It wouldn't be so bad, but I can't eat. I'm pretty weak. I've been waiting-"

"I'll ask the War Mother. We'll try everything."

Theresa shook her head. "They got us good. They know things the Benefactors don't."

Or aren't willing to teach us, Martin thought, but that didn't make sense; the War Mother could have converted the craft while the injured crew slept and n.o.body would have been much the wiser. Theresa was right. Martin thought, but that didn't make sense; the War Mother could have converted the craft while the injured crew slept and n.o.body would have been much the wiser. Theresa was right. We've been aced. We've been aced.

Martin looked at the War Mother. "You tried, and it didn't work?"

"Stephanie Wing Feather agreed to an experiment. She is dead. We cannot turn anti-matter into matter."

"You're supposed to understand," Martin said. "How can you be ignorant about this this?"

"The techniques are unknown to us."

"Jesus, I'm not asking for so much, just learn how to do it learn how to do it! She's dying!"

The War Mother said nothing. Martin wrapped his face in his hands.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up," Theresa said. "I'm glad you did before...I have a plan, and it's not much, but it's something. I've asked the War Mother to make a strong field and put pellets of matter into it, with me. I'm behind the field. You're protected. The explosion could be even more powerful than Stephanie's. That's what Stephanie asked for. If the experiment didn't work. It didn't. She helped push you-"

"No!" Martin shouted.

Theresa closed her eyes as if to sleep. "I've stayed this long to talk to you. Maybe it would have been easier to just do it while you were asleep. The War Mother says it would be useful."

"We'll take you with us, carry you in a field," Martin said. "We'll work on some way to convert you. Jennifer can think of something if the War Mother can't."

"I was being selfish," Theresa continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "I wanted to say some things to you, make sure you were all right. I wanted to see you again and talk with you."

"Please," Martin wailed, suddenly back in the crowded chamber aboard the Ark, watching the Earth die, and knowing even as a young boy what he was losing. He struggled but all he could do was twist in the field.

"Right now I'm good for nothing and I hurt. I thought about going back to Nebuchadnezzar, looking for a target, but the War Mother and I agreed, I'd just fizzle out and give the planet another useless scar."

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it!" Martin screamed.

"Please," Theresa said, laying her head against the neck rest. "Let's just talk while there's time."

Martin felt immediate shame and sobered. "I love you," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "I don't want you to go away."

"I can't come back to you, Martin, and that means I'm dead already."

He struggled against the fields again but kept his face under control. "We need to think." He stared at the War Mother, face wreathed with a child's bitter disappointment. "Nothing?"

"She is suffering and will not survive much longer," the War Mother said.

"I was selfish," Theresa said. "I'm hurting you more than if I just-"

"No, no. I'm glad you stayed." He pushed to be closer to her image. "I'm...I'll tell you something. I'm going to tell you about the new home." He made a supreme effort to put on a face of expectancy and joy. "It's going to be far away from here and so beautiful, Theresa. We'll make it. We're going to do the Job, and we'll go there, and I swear it will be beautiful.

"I'll wear my suit. All the Lost Boys will wear their suits. All the Wendys will wear gowns. We'll step out on the planet, and we'll marry the new home. We'll remember everybody, and they'll be with us, and we'll grow food, and make wine, and babies, and we'll...Oh, Jesus, it will be such a party, Theresa."

Her face relaxed. "I can see it," she said.

"You'll be there with me, honey."

"I think I will."

"We'll do it," he said. He had run out of words.

"Martin, Tortoise Tortoise tells me it's ready. I'd like to go now. I want to help you get to the new home. Can I do it now, my love?" tells me it's ready. I'd like to go now. I want to help you get to the new home. Can I do it now, my love?"

Martin could not speak. He could hardly see. He pushed against the field like a fly in a web. The healing doers hummed.

"Goodbye." Theresa blew him a kiss.

Her image was replaced by a view from the rear of Tortoise. Tortoise. Theresa moved her bombship into position. Theresa moved her bombship into position.

Martin shook his head, disbelieving.

He wanted to keep her alive as long as possible, to make up for the awkwardness and inadequacy of his last words to her. He wanted to scream but did not.

Martin closed his eyes and turned away, but he could not keep them shut; he wanted to see, to feel and appreciate appreciate the push, to realize for her sake as the first step into grief that Theresa was becoming something so absurd and simple as acceleration. the push, to realize for her sake as the first step into grief that Theresa was becoming something so absurd and simple as acceleration.

He whispered her name. She might have heard.

Theresa's bombship hung steady as pellets of ma.s.s approached. The stars moved behind her, peaceful and constant; Wormwood's corona flared in silence beyond a shadowed, ripped edge of Tortoise Tortoise's tail.

The pellets closed.

Ambiplasma bloomed brighter than Wormwood. Theresa's bombship wasped within the fields, frenzied by inequalities of blast. Light ate her. She was eaten by light clean and uncompromising, the opposite of s.p.a.ce, of night and ending, all light, all colors.

The hull sang high and sweet like the tremolo of a flute.

Martin's scream came and he choked on it, struggling against the mercy of the healing doers.

Tortoise moved slowly between the worlds, her children ignored by Nebuchadnezzar, by Ramses, by Herod. The silence of these grim barren worlds proclaimed defeat. moved slowly between the worlds, her children ignored by Nebuchadnezzar, by Ramses, by Herod. The silence of these grim barren worlds proclaimed defeat.

Within, as the ship repaired itself, as the Wendys and Lost Boys healed, Martin thought about the Killers, the tricksters, impersonal, unseen.

As on Earth, so it was with the traps of Wormwood. Luring, testing, destroying.

He slept to the humming of the golden doers, finishing their work.

Came William this time. "You're dreaming of me, aren't you?"

"I guess so."