"You have worked with the best information available. There are simply no clues to where the Benefactors might be found. The information you need is available. Use it."

"I've been told-"

"You are Pan," the mom said.

He swallowed harder, and his tongue seemed to grow thick. "We'll stand down."

"What is 'stand down'?" the mom asked.

"We'll refuse to enact the Law."

"If that is your choice, the ship will change from its present course."

Martin relaxed his clenched fists. He was not angry with the moms; he was not angry with the children. With regard to himself he felt nothing. He looked away from the copper-bronze robot, seeing too clearly how naive they all were.

"We're just asking to be trusted," Martin said, working to keep his voice level.

"We are not empowered to trust or not to trust. Nor can we give you information that this ship does not carry. We cannot do the impossible, Martin."

He felt ill and exhausted. Why had he let the children put him up to this? Because he was Pan, and represented them? That didn't seem at all sufficient to explain his predicament and his misery.

"Why were we sent on this mission when we don't have the information we need to complete it?" He sounded petulant and petty, and he hated it.

"What you lack is information that our builders think you will not need."

Martin's mind worked furiously to find a c.h.i.n.k in this thick armor of logic. I would have designed the ship the same way! We all would have! would have designed the ship the same way! We all would have!

"But the ship carries information about Earth. If it's captured, they could-the Killers could-"

"This Job would be impossible if you did not have access to your culture, your history and planetary memories."

"You'd risk our solar system, but you will not risk your...makers? Your planet, or planets?"

"That is the way it must be."

Another wall, huge and unyielding; two walls actually, closing with him between. "We feel inadequate to do the Job," he said softly, eyes turned away.

"Go back to the others and tell them they are not inadequate. They have the resources they need.

"There is, in this ship, something that goes beyond knowledge, that is hidden in its structure and the way it operates, which allows this ship to judge with high accuracy the chances of a mission's success. Call it a mechanical instinct. Your people are very capable. Tell them."

Martin lifted his head and stepped back. "I'll try," he said.

His face was red as he left the schoolroom. He had been maneuvered into presenting a case without believing it himself. That showed his weakness as a leader. Failing to get what he had been sent to get would make him seem weak in the eyes of some children-Ariel in particular. But he did not care what she thought.

What would Theresa think? And William?

What would Rosa Sequoia think, Rosa who needed a strong leader to draw her back into the group?

Sitting on the edge of a table, Martin finished his crew report, the most difficult few minutes in recent memory. Most of the children-seventy-two of them-sat in the main cafeteria, the only s.p.a.ce besides the schoolroom large enough to hold them all at once.

The ship's deceleration had hastened and they now faced a steady two g's. They were tired and they listened to his report quietly.

"That's it," he concluded, looking from face to face to keep direct visual contact with as many as he could. Then he gave that up; it might make him seem nervous. Instead, he focused on four or five in the front ranks.

Hans Eagle and Erin Eire sat in the front row. Hans' expression was quizzical. Erin cradled her cat, a fat gray thing with exhausted, bored eyes and matted fur.

"Did you argue with them?" someone asked from the middle. Martin looked up quickly and tried to spot the face, but answered before he had identified Terence Sahara.

"I did my best to present our case," he said. "Either we believe them, or we don't. And if we don't believe them..." He let the question hang.

Theresa sat on a bench to his right. He glanced at her; she smiled support. William, on the opposite side, about one third back into the crowd, sat with hands behind his head, elbows like stubby wings, eyes closed.

No one stood against the oppressive force; no one exerted themselves more than they absolutely had to.

"It's frightening," Erin Eire said. She swallowed; even speaking seemed tiring. "We thought they were all-wise, all-knowing. If the Ship of the Law doesn't know, then the machines that saved us probably didn't know, either...don't know."

"What do do the Benefactors know? Anything?" Jack Sand asked. the Benefactors know? Anything?" Jack Sand asked.

Felicity Tigertail, in the front row-Martin's first lover, back on the Central Ark, during a brief two-day tryst-raised her hand as if she were in school. Martin nodded to her. Her arm was bruised, he noted; they all had bruises from such casual actions as letting arms drop. She lowered her arm cautiously.

"We're lost if we don't believe them," she said. "We have to believe them. That should be obvious."

"We don't have to believe anything," Ariel said from the rear, voice loud to rise above the murmuring. She sounded harsh, angry. Martin wondered where she got her energy to stay angry. "We have to ask questions. We should continue to ask questions! I think this is bulls.h.i.t. They can defend themselves against the kind of machines that destroyed Earth! Why worry about what information they carry? The moms-the Benefactors-are simply afraid of us. us. They don't want They don't want us us to know anything about them or their makers." to know anything about them or their makers."

Martin started to speak, but Paola Birdsong, in the middle of the group, shouted out first, "Hold it! Does anybody here have enough imagination to see what the moms are really really saying? Martin, do saying? Martin, do you you know what they're telling us?" know what they're telling us?"

"They're not all-powerful," Jack Sand said.

"I'm asking Martin!" Paola insisted.

Martin looked out over the group from his seat on the table top, then with great effort stood up, holding his hands behind his back. The table seemed very high. If he fell, he could break a leg. Or his neck. "They seem to say there are hunter-killers out there from civilizations much more technologically advanced than the one-or ones-that built the Ships of the Law."

"It never ends! n.o.body ever learns!" Erin Eire cried out. Her cat tried to crawl away in distaste. "n.o.body ever grows old enough to be kind or wise!"

"Hold it," Martin said, raising his hand. Noise rippled through the children, words of shock and dismay. "Hold it! Quiet!" he shouted hoa.r.s.ely.

"Quiet!" Hans repeated, his voice like a bear's growl in the cafeteria s.p.a.ce.

The children quieted. Ariel stood and lumbered from the room, followed by two others whose faces Martin didn't catch in the rear gloom.

"To get agreement to build these machines, the Benefactors have to guarantee security. Safety. They need to know that sending the ships and machines out won't backfire and lead bigger wolves down on them. That's just caution. Maybe there aren't really any bigger wolves out there. But they have to be cautious. And of course, in time, maybe we will become dangerous, like a lion turning on its keeper." He looked at Felicity and smiled. Felicity nodded.

"We shouldn't be cynical," Martin said. "The moms tell us we're good, and that we have what we need. We just have to work extra hard with what we have. We have to drill. We have to make up our own exercises based on what we've already been taught. They took risks by teaching us what they have. We're powerful, given the weapons we're taught to use. That shows some kind of trust, doesn't it?"

"We have what we need," Hans repeated. "We have work to do."

"Vote on it!" Ariel had returned and looked at Martin from the shadows at the rear.

Martin's face flushed. "No," he said. "We don't do everything by some sort of silly consensus. If you don't like the way things are being done, you elect another Pan. You can do that now if you want. The moms say we'll be diverted if we stand down. Who wants to lose this chance, after five years?"

Silence.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it, we have the right to vote!" Ariel said, tears obvious in her voice.

"One vote only," Martin insisted. "Whether I stay Pan." He swung his arms and folded them in front of his chest, aware that this was a silly and cla.s.sic pose of bl.u.s.tering leadership, and waited for a response, half-hoping for a swell of dissent to take the weight from his back.

Silence.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n you all!" Ariel cried out. The children hunched their shoulders and looked back at her resentfully, but she stayed in the room.

Martin gingerly lowered himself, feeling a moment of vertigo. "We already voted to go in," he said, voice softer. "This doesn't change anything. We just have to work harder."

"Time is short," Hans said. "We work up a drill schedule now, and we drill by our own designs. We workshop what we might expect to find in this system, and we plan plan for it, and we take whatever help the moms offer!" for it, and we take whatever help the moms offer!"

Martin's heart went out again in a perverse way to Ariel, standing in the back of the room, face shiny with tears. He had done his performance and they had agreed, tacitly at least, to continue; he had exerted leadership and had molded consensus of a sort. How long would it last, though, and how strong was their resolve?

In that sick moment, he knew he was wrong to agree with the moms, not demanding a stand-down, not calling their bluff-and that Ariel was right.

He stood on the floor and took a deep breath. Hans came up to one side. Behind him, Stephanie Wing Feather and Harpal Timechaser sat on benches, not looking at him. Finally Stephanie turned.

"Way to go," she said.

"Ignore them," Hans said.

"You've got them dedicated now," Stephanie said without sincerity as Martin turned to walk away. His entire head felt warm. He turned back suddenly, back muscles twinging. "What would you have done, G.o.d d.a.m.n it?"

Stephanie kept her seat as he approached.

"What would you have done?" Martin repeated, less loudly. The other children had filed out now, leaving only Stephanie, Harpal, Hans and Martin in the cafeteria.

"I don't know," Stephanie said, swallowing. "I might have tried harder."

"No," Martin said, wiping his eyes and straightening. "No. You wouldn't have."

Stephanie got up from the bench and ran her hands down the sides of her overalls, smoothing the fabric. "It's the weight, Martin," she said. "I didn't mean to be sarcastic. Sorry."

Martin's anger wouldn't go so easily. He backed away, glanced at Hans, who pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'm sorry, too," he murmured, and left the room, Hans following three steps behind.

In five days, as they flew through the pre-birth cloud surrounding Wormwood, the children would reach the next point of decision-to judge whether the system had been the source of the Earth-killing machines, and decide whether to split Dawn Treader Dawn Treader into into Hare Hare and and Tortoise. Tortoise.

Through the tendays of oppressive weight, the children drilled endlessly. Martin actually looked forward to time in the craft, to the relief of volumetric fields. Hakim pushed the search team patiently, trying to absorb as much information as possible about Wormwood before they pulled in the remotes.

Hakim could shed little light on the unresolved problem of the five dark ma.s.ses close in to the star, orbiting in nearly perfect circles.

Martin pondered all this alone, preparing the preliminary order of battle in his quarters. He had not seen Theresa for eighteen hours; had not slept for thirty. Love-making was out of the question.

The children engaged in routine drills without him. He had to finish his work soon-in a few hours at most-to give time for final practice, and one final external drill, before they entered the pre-birth cloud.

They had flown for five and a half years, and yet there was the inevitable urgency and panic now, something that proved their humanity. He half-suspected the external drill had been deliberately arranged to be disastrous, that the moms in their subtle way were shocking the children, guiding them into battle-readiness...

But he could not a.s.sume that. The moms might be as coolly unconcerned as they seemed in conversation, relying entirely on the pa.s.sion of the children to carry out the Law. Do the Job.

He rubbed his sweat-matted hair. Sometimes he could hardly think; he would curl up on the floor, eyes tight shut, trying to ignore exhaustion, frustrated desire for Theresa, and concentrate.

Despite these distractions, he was coming to a conclusion about the plan of battle.

Pan was in charge of general planning. No votes would be taken after the judgment had been made by all the children; Pan and Christopher Robin would have complete control, acting through the division leaders, the five former Pans. Each division leader would oversee a team of fifteen or sixteen children; each team would be a.s.signed a task. Two teams would stay with the Hare. Hare. Three teams would fly Three teams would fly Tortoise. Tortoise.

Tortoise would accomplish the main objective. Makers cast into the pre-birth cloud would use the available raw materials to manufacture weapons, gravity-or proximity-fuse neutronium bombs that would comprise a second automatic a.s.sault, in case the initial a.s.sault failed. would accomplish the main objective. Makers cast into the pre-birth cloud would use the available raw materials to manufacture weapons, gravity-or proximity-fuse neutronium bombs that would comprise a second automatic a.s.sault, in case the initial a.s.sault failed.

Tortoise would launch small craft. Their task would be to divert and/or destroy any defenses and accomplish reconnaissance. Two ex-Pans would lead these small craft teams. would launch small craft. Their task would be to divert and/or destroy any defenses and accomplish reconnaissance. Two ex-Pans would lead these small craft teams.

Martin suffered a deep conflict when studying strategy and tactics. Too many possibilities occurred to him; he could not see his way through to a clear line of attack. With some chagrin, he knew the reason for his conflict: he regarded the ma.s.sive destruction of s.p.a.ce war, the necessary total vanquishing of an enemy, as an essentially immoral act. Yet he desired justice for the Earth's murder as much as any of the children.

Clear thinking on the matter was very difficult; he simply did not trust his own instincts.

Many children had created and filed theoretical tactics over the years; Martin had consulted nearly all of them, particularly those created by Theodore Dawn.

Theodore had been a kind of brilliant child, wise in some respects, but supremely strong-willed and irresponsible in others, a complement to Martin's indecision and second-guessing. More effectively than Martin ever could, blithely ignoring questions of morality, Theodore had created a mathematics of s.p.a.ce war tactics that used nearly all the features of the momerath to great advantage. His schemes covered many contingencies, all suggested by the principles taught by the moms. Basics of s.p.a.ce warfare, as taught by the moms, had flowered in Theodore's mind into a graceful dance devoid of consequences.

In Theodore's plans, concealment was the only armor. Concealment, what Theodore called "silence," was a fine art among high-technology civilizations. Silence meant complete damping of radiation; invisibility meant unaberrated replication of incident radiation. Advantages over an adversary could be measured mathematically by how silent each was. Silent delivery of weapons-and the silence of the weapons themselves-was next in importance.

Theodore had studied manuals of submarine warfare on Earth. But s.p.a.ce was far more dangerous than a deep sea, because it was vast, transparent to all radiations, and a perfect medium for weapon delivery. Yet s.p.a.ce had many advantages over ocean; it was three-dimensional without limit, travel paths were limited to orbits, and even the largest unconcealed weapons platform, given sufficient distance, was tiny compared to the background.

Interstellar s.p.a.ce had no weather, and rarely changed its character during a period of confrontation. Interplanetary s.p.a.ce-the region most likely to be a.s.saulted and defended-was subject to the vagaries of stellar atmospheres and stellar particle streams, but advanced s.p.a.cefaring civilizations were not bothered by them.

Interplanetary s.p.a.ce was extremely difficult to guard. When a.s.sault could come undetected from almost any angle, the best defense lay in deceit-either camouflage or outright disguise. What did not attract attention was not attacked.

The libraries told them that only primitive civilizations, such as Earth's, blatantly announced their existence.

If deceit and camouflage failed, s.p.a.ce warfare was comparatively clean and dependent on initial conditions. Knowing the differences in technology suggested probable outcomes for most confrontations even before battle began.

For an invader, this could be turned into an advantage. If an invasion force was discovered within a system, it could "pigeon puff:" provide misleading evidence of overwhelming superiority, thus forcing its adversary into ineffective and energy-wasting tactics accompanied by a sense of certain defeat. Psychological weapons were difficult to design because the psychology of an adversary might be unknown, or when facing machines, virtually nonexistent. Even the methods of perception of an adversary might be problematic.

More effective sometimes, Theodore postulated, was an appearance of weakness, of lesser technological ability. One part of an a.s.sault could perform deception while other parts deployed silently. If the adversary were deceived by this "lapwing," it might exert its forces prematurely, inappropriately, or not at all.

These were solid but not brilliant reflections of what the moms had taught them. Where Theodore Dawn's genius truly shined was in describing an adversary's course of actions under the imagined circ.u.mstances of confrontation. Theodore seemed to have an apt.i.tude for creating alien psychologies, and applying them to s.p.a.ce warfare.

He created four categories of adversary: inferior, equal, superior, and unknowable. Unknowable could encompa.s.s any of the other categories; for example, a weak, low-technology adversary might have stumbled onto effective methods of maintaining silence, or of deceiving.

Inferior was easily enough defined, and even dealt with, given due caution; but it was unlikely the Killers were inferior to the Benefactors. Theodore outlined a few simple instances, warned of dangers, and went on to equality and superiority.

Equality was most difficult to plan for, simply because it could could be planned for. Martin, choosing the most likely scenario, studied Theodore's writing and displays on the tactics of attacking equals What he was concerned with was not equality of force, but equality of technology and intelligence; not equality of desire or fear, not even the sameness of creativity, but equality of the raw materials of warfare, in terms of capabilities. Thus, a torpedo was smaller and perhaps less complex than the submarine it was designed to destroy yet it was equal in be planned for. Martin, choosing the most likely scenario, studied Theodore's writing and displays on the tactics of attacking equals What he was concerned with was not equality of force, but equality of technology and intelligence; not equality of desire or fear, not even the sameness of creativity, but equality of the raw materials of warfare, in terms of capabilities. Thus, a torpedo was smaller and perhaps less complex than the submarine it was designed to destroy yet it was equal in technological origins. technological origins.

A simple device could be made clever at the same level as a more complex, far more powerful or forceful forceful device; it could be effective against the greater force, preventing its use or destroying it. device; it could be effective against the greater force, preventing its use or destroying it.

A superior adversary was best not confronted directly, or at although that was not a choice here; they must bat against such a force like a moth against a gla.s.s window, if necessary, dedicated but all uncomprehending). But the superior adversary was likely also best a concealment, deception, and diversion. A far superior adversary might not be an adversary at all, as much as a supernatural force, a G.o.dlike potentiality that could brush aside the most careful planning and the most concerted a.s.sault like the whims of a child.