Giacomo shrugged. "I asked the moms that question twice. No real answer." He mimicked the flat neutrality of a mom's voice: "'You are given what you need to enact the Law.' I'll say this much-I had a long time to think things over, even before Jennifer and I jammed. The momeraths I did pointed to some pretty scary things."

"Like?"

"All by myself, seeing the planets, trying to figure out Sleep, and Blinker, I came up with-"he circled his hands "-persuasion.

It's a principle, like deluding matter through hidden channels. s.p.a.ce is like matter-has its own book-keeping, its own channels. I don't think the moms knew what I was thinking, I mean, I don't think the Benefactors...the ships at least...Christ, Martin. I'm getting all tangled."

"They didn't know about persuasion, whatever it is."

"Right...until we saw Blinker, saw their noach range out to fifty billion klicks."

Martin nodded. Giacomo was still drunk with the knowledge, the power.

"s.p.a.ce can be persuaded to get out of the way, shrink its metric, collapse atomic diameters to create quark matter. All by myself, without the ships' minds, I saw that quark matter makes neutronium look like a gas. By tweaking internal bits in the quarks-a whole level below particle bits-quark matter can be split into really fanatic lovers. One must have the other, or, you know, the universe will end. universe will end. You put anything between the lovers...what stands between ceases to exist. The privileged bands get incredibly vicious. The books must be balanced. You put anything between the lovers...what stands between ceases to exist. The privileged bands get incredibly vicious. The books must be balanced.

"Martin, the way it went, I don't think the moms or the ships' minds had to know anything. I saw it. The ships' minds worked through a couple of hundred lifetimes of my thinking. They were way ahead of me. I talked to the moms, the ships' minds talked to me, I talked to Jennifer, compared notes, and...There it was. Then the ship went to work making the weapons."

Giacomo took a deep breath and shivered some of his energy away, chuckled at his state. "Sorry. It's not that I don't care. But sometimes I felt as if we were forcing G.o.d to make mistakes, and there was this...this indignant power making things right again, at any cost. The Killers got in the way."

"Of G.o.d," Martin said.

Giacomo's cheek twitched, then he grimaced. "Whatever. All this deluding and persuading. Like seduction, playing a game. We played the game better than the Killers did."

"Maybe they were tired," Martin said.

"As good an explanation as any," Giacomo said. He shook his arms out, toes poked into the field. Jittered, hunched his shoulders, eyes dancing with energy beyond exhaustion.

He's had his his religious experience. religious experience.

"I keep seeing something in the playbacks," Martin said. "It can't be real-it looks like a big finger."

Giacomo grinned, nodded. "The finger. That's scary, isn't it? Reaching out." He curled his finger and poked the air. "It shows up wherever there are large ma.s.ses of separated quark components. That's what made me think maybe G.o.d was getting really angry and putting things right."

Martin looked unconvinced. "G.o.d again."

"It looks like it's moving really fast, but that's an illusion. It's a chain of spatial contortions upsetting ionized hydrogen, a real barometer of quark separation. That's one theory...or it's a string of some sort pulled out of the universe's sub-bas.e.m.e.nt. You know, the glue that keeps us on the canvas? I haven't even begun to think about what that implies. Maybe I don't want to."

"Do you think the Killers were still at home?" Martin asked softly.

Giacomo narrowed his eyes and licked his lips. "Not my call, Martin. Back to work. Hans wants this day after tomorrow. We'll go after anything that looks like survivors."

"It isn't over," Martin said.

"Justice must be complete," Giacomo said. Swinging away, he paused, glanced over his shoulder, said, "You think the moms will let us keep what we know?"

Martin lightly tapped his temple.

"Right," Giacomo said. "They've never asked us to forget."

Ariel sat in the cafeteria with Donna and Anna Gray Wolf. Twenty others off Hans' strict watch schedule ate in cl.u.s.ters. Ariel looked up as Martin entered, nodded to him almost curtly and looked away. She had cut her hair very short and wore colorless overalls. Self-consciously, Martin pushed himself in their direction.

"I'm off to help Giacomo in a few minutes," Anna said pointedly. "You two should be alone, compare notes."

Ariel's color was good, and she did not appear much thinner than he. "No hurry," she said.

"We're having a wake at day's end," Donna said. She swallowed a last bite of something green from the air and gathered her crumbs with a small field.

None of this seemed apropos of anything to Martin. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" he asked Ariel. This was the first time he had seen her since they had been removed from their escape craft. The awkwardness disturbed him.

"Park here," Ariel said. Donna moved over, and Martin drifted between them. "I'm glad you were with me," Ariel said. "You helped me stay sane."

Martin nodded, the tension not yet diminished.

"But we need to know where you stand. You know that Hans has put together a political squad."

"I've heard about it," he said.

"n.o.body's enthusiastic, but they're still keeping track of us."

"Right."

"So we're talking right here in the open," Donna said. "We'll call his bluff."

"We need to know which side you're on," Ariel said.

"No sides," Martin said.

"You can't be neutral," Anna said, righteous anger in her voice. "Hans has gone way beyond his charter."

"He'll call it martial law," Donna said. "The crew went along with him during the war. But we want him to resign as Pan."

"Why?" Martin asked. "He got the Job done."

Ariel searched his face for a sign of what he actually meant, but he was stubbornly blank. "Maybe," she said. "I doubt we'll ever really know."

"I've told him there should be an investigation of Rosa's death and Rex's suicide."

Ariel shook her head. "I sympathize, but that's kind of trivial now, Martin."

"It should be done," Anna said.

"Compared to what happened here, it's d.a.m.ned near meaningless, a gnat in a hurricane."

"She was crew," Martin said.

"Come on," Anna said. "It's still necessary. Martin's right."

"What will it accomplish?" Ariel said. "It's just part of a larger crime. First, he doesn't let us vote on this particular case. Twenty of us go down to Sleep to play amba.s.sadors, and he knocks us out of the circuit, doesn't even bother to keep us informed-"

"He says that was because we could have been spied upon," Martin said. "Or even controlled."

Ariel brushed that aside. "And he executes without having a proven case. Have you seen seen the destruction, Martin? Can you even begin to absorb it?" the destruction, Martin? Can you even begin to absorb it?"

"I've seen it," Martin said, "and no, I can't."

David Aurora approached their group on a ladder field. "I'd keep it down, folks," he said in a low voice. "Patrick keeps his ears open."

"Patrick's replaced Rex," Anna said. "There are others."

"What we want to do," Ariel said, "is get Hans out one way or another, elect a new Pan, and try to convince the Brothers to stay with us, to combine ships. We think we'd have a better chance to find a home that way."

David, having issued his warning, shook his head and pulled himself to another group on the far side of the cafeteria.

"You think Hans has really gone off the deep?" Martin asked. "You think he's going to squash dissent?"

"You want to investigate Rosa's death, but you ask a question like that?" Anna asked.

"Pardon me, but I'm very confused," Martin said.

"It's pretty clear," Ariel said. Her coldness toward him was like a slap. She's reversed course again. Who can ever know her? She's reversed course again. Who can ever know her?

"It's the new order," Donna said, thin hands rubbing her thin forearms. "He cut us loose on the Trojan Horse. Trojan Horse. He used us. I don't care, I don't trust him, and we need a Pan we can trust, and we need the rest of our crew. We can't just split and go in two directions. It isn't right. We need the Brothers, too." He used us. I don't care, I don't trust him, and we need a Pan we can trust, and we need the rest of our crew. We can't just split and go in two directions. It isn't right. We need the Brothers, too."

"You mean, we need their resources," Martin said.

"Actually, that's not strictly true," Anna said. "We'll be able to mine enough stuff around Leviathan to take us anywhere we want to go. Even add to the ship if we want."

"Psychologically, we need the Brothers," Ariel agreed. Martin was about to ask her to explain that when Patrick Angelfish came into the cafeteria, doing a bad job of looking as if he had some purpose there. Martin waved his hand to catch Patrick's eye; Patrick looked away with too much effort. Martin spread his arms and waved them in semaph.o.r.e for him to join them. Ariel's face went pale and even colder.

Patrick approached cautiously, not expecting the open invitation.

"Are you spying for Hans?" Martin asked him.

"I wouldn't call it spying," Patrick said. "A Pan needs to know what's going on."

"Tell Hans I'm putting together a committee to investigate Rosa's death," Martin said. "I'm asking for volunteers now. He gave permission, and I'm acting on that permission."

"He hasn't told me he gave permission," Patrick said, clearly out of his depth.

Martin's sudden deep anger took him by surprise. "That's because you're a lackey," he said with a grim smile. "Like Rex. Tell him if he wants to challenge me, do it in the open, himself, and not just send you to keep an eye on me."

Patrick left with a shake of his head and a grim, sidelong smile.

Donna and Anna's faces had gone pale and stiff. "You don't understand what he's capable of," Anna said.

"Maybe not," Martin said.

"Don't be a martyr," Ariel said.

"Why not?" Martin asked.

"Then don't be a fool," she added, but her chilly tone had pa.s.sed.

"I'm flying on instinct," Martin said. "So is Hans. The question is, who has the better instincts?"

The roll call of the new dead. The human crew in the small schoolroom. Brothers elsewhere, preparing to transfer to Shrike. Shrike. The defectors attended, breaking their isolation in the Brother's section to honor those who had not survived. The defectors attended, breaking their isolation in the Brother's section to honor those who had not survived.

Perhaps it was the last time they would be together.

Hans came into the schoolroom with face ashen, hair unkempt, eyes large and hungry. He seemed to look in every face, ask everyone a question: Are you happy now? Is this enough, or do you want more? Are you happy now? Is this enough, or do you want more?

Without using his wand, Hans recited the names of the dead. Some of the crew wept. Martin closed his eyes and tried to remember Hakim's face, the calmness and deliberation, his precise way with words. Erin Eire...intense green eyes and n.o.ble balance of defiance and sense. He wished they were here now to help him.

Jeanette Snap Dragon lifted her arm in a clenched fist, and the defectors followed her example.

Hans did not look at Martin after, though he pa.s.sed close on his way out. Patrick glanced in his direction, face troubled.

The delegation came to Martin's quarters in the middle of his sleep. His wand woke him, chiming insistently. He opened the door and Patrick stepped in, Thorkild Lax behind him, then David Aurora, Carl Phoenix, and last-making Martin's heart ache, for he knew what was happening-Harpal Timechaser. None of them met his eyes but Patrick, who said, "It's time to put everything behind us."

Patrick in front, Carl on one side, David on another, Harpal slightly above him, Thorkild below; a cage of men. Martin smelled their tension.

"Everything?" he said.

"It's history," Patrick said. "Besides, you'll get no support. n.o.body wants to dig any more. We need to forget and get on with our lives."

"Forget what?" Martin asked mildly, but his heart pumped strong and fast. His body was very frightened, but the fear hadn't yet reached his head.

"Your investigation."

"We know who killed Rosa, and he's dead, and Hans had nothing to do with it, at least no more than the rest of us," Carl said.

"She would have stopped us," Thorkild said.

"We did the slicking Job Job," Patrick hissed, and Martin knew the quincunx of his danger. Patrick was the center who would radiate to the other four. "We did what we came here to do."

"Let's just give it up, huh?" Harpal asked. "We're tired."

Martin rotated in mid-air to face Harpal. n.o.body would look straight into his eyes. Harpal managed to focus on Martin's cheek. "Why are you here? Power?" he asked.

"Beg pardon?" Harpal seemed to sleepwalk, only half-listening.

"I'm asking you why you're here."

"I thought we could talk some sense into you. You know as well as I what Hans did. He drew us together."

"That doesn't absolve him..."

"After what we've just done," Harpal said, pain and dismay pa.s.sing over his face but not disturbing the simple, stolid exhaustion behind any expression, "you want to investigate a...what? A murder, you think? It's insane, Martin. Let it lie."