Текст книги "Anvil of Stars"

Автор книги: Грег Бир

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"The snake mothers seem to think there's no chance the Brothers could ever turn into planet killers."

"But they're not so certain about us," Giacomo said.

"The Brothers were littoral, beach grazers—at least, in their earliest forms," Jennifer said. "Almost all their cities were located along coastlines. They made artificial beaches inland to feed the growing populations—that was the beginning of civilization for them. They seem embarrassed by their past, as if hunters and gatherers—us—might think beachcombers are inferior."

"I think their world had little or no axial tilt," Giacomo said. "No seasons, but with two moons—"

"We haven't heard any of this!" Martin said, astonished. "Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?"

"We were waiting to be absolutely sure," Jennifer said.

"Couldn't you just ask Norman or Many Smells?"

"Not nearly so simple," Jennifer said, looking away, fiddling with the overalls at her knees. "The snake mothers may have told them to be careful about telling us too much. "

Martin let his breath out with a low moan. "Why?"

"Because while we've been exploring their libraries, they've been going through ours, and they're a lot better equipped to understand them."

"They're awed by our capacity for violence," Giacomo said ruefully. "They became reallyinterested after Rex attacked Sand Filer."

"Our history is so different," Jennifer said. "Many Smells watched some of our movies. We tried to interpret for him."

" The Longest Day," Giacomo said. " Ben-Hur. Patton. He was particularly confused by The Godfatherand Star Wars. Jennifer tried to explain The Forever War. He was pretty quiet afterward, and he didn't smell like much of anything."

Martin shook his head, puzzled.

"They don't release scents when they feel threatened and want to hide," Jennifer explained. "Sand Filer stunk things up because he was injured. That was his distress call."

Martin shook his head. "Why weren't you a little more… selective about what he watched?"

Jennifer blinked owlishly. "I don't see how we can expect them to be open with their libraries, if we aren't open with our own. We tried to find some movies we thought they might appreciate more," she added. "Domestic comedies. Family films. He watched Arsenic and Old Lace. We couldn't erase first impressions, and after Rex's attack, who would blame them?"

Martin let out his breath and closed his eyes. "All right."

"I think they're having a hard time accepting anything made-up," Giacomo said. "We had to explain the movies were not about real events. Except the history films—and even those were reenactments, fictionalized."

"What about literature?"

"They're just getting into some now. No reaction yet."

Martin felt a sudden rush of shame: collective, human shame. He rubbed his nose and shook his head. "We may be allies, but not trusted companions."

"Exactly," Giacomo said.

"We didn't want to tell Hans until we were sure. We thought he might take it badly."

"With him in charge, I don't wonder the Brothers are worried about us," Jennifer said.

"He's under a lot of pressure," Martin said.

"Hans has gotten us through some tough times," Giacomo said. "But he's fragile. Who knows what will happen when things get tough again?"

"Don't blinker yourself," Jennifer said.

Martin looked down at the floor, hands clasped. "Tell me more about the annotations, about whatever you think you've learned."

"Their information on other worlds is extensive. The snake mothers have told them more about types of civilizations, levels of technology, past encounters with different civilizations that went killer. We're still trying to work out the implications."

"Is it possible," Martin began, face brightening, "that the Benefactors simply built the snake mothers and the Brothers' ship after they built ours? Maybe things loosened up. Maybe the Benefactors became less concerned about the Killers getting strategic information."

Giacomo shrugged. "Possibly."

"Maybe we're being a little too self-critical," Martin suggested. "Letting our guilt complexes lead us by the nose."

"Let's not worry about it for now," Jennifer said. "What we need to worry about is how much in their libraries is new and useful to us. I think in a couple of tendays, we'll know enough to make a strong report to Hans."

"You should talk with the snake mothers," Giacomo suggested. "Not Hans. You."

"Bring Paola with you," Jennifer said. "They may think we're more stable in male-female pairs."

"Too bad Theresa couldn't be here," Giacomo said wistfully. "You and she, together, would have been just what they're looking for."

"They like working with dyads," Jennifer said. "They really like Giacomo and me."

"If we could all be in love and connected to each other—" Giacomo began.

"They'd feel more affinity for us," Jennifer concluded.

Martin grinned. "We'll try to make do."

PART THREE

MARTIN FOUND TWICE GROWN IN THE SCHOOLROOM, COILED IN deep discussion with Erin Eire and Carl Phoenix. Paola squatted on a cushion to one side and knitted a blanket, clarifying when necessary.

"But you don't have fiction in your literature," Carl was saying. "And you don't have poetry. You have these symphonies of odors… I suppose they'd be like music to us. But nothing comparable to literature."

"It has made things difficult for learning," Twice Grown said. "I we have adjusted to thoughts that things described in your literature, in fiction, did not actually happen. Even your recorded history is indefinite. Is it not better to know something is truth before communicating?"

"We like experiencing things that didn't happen," Erin Eire said. "There's a difference between writing fiction and lying."

"Though I'll be damned if I can pin it down," Carl said, smiling.

"Carl means," Paola said, lifting her chin but keeping her eyes on her knitting, "he can't easily describe what the difference is between writing stories and lying. But there is a difference."

Erin turned to Martin. "We're having difficulty explaining this to him," she said.

"We we do not create situations for our stories," Twice Grown said. "It seems possible to confuse, especially the young."

"I we—" Erin cleared her throat. "I think we know the difference. Fiction is relaxing, like dreaming. Lying, not telling the truth, is to gain social advantage."

"We we do not dream," Twice Grown said. "We our method of sleep is unlike yours. We we sleep rarely, and are not braided when sleeping, but we our cords are inactive for a time every few days."

"Do cords dream?" Paola asked, looking up from her knitting.

"Cords have mental activity not accessible to braided individuals," Twice Grown said. "They are not smart, but behave on programmed paths."

"Instinct," Carl Phoenix suggested.

"Does this make fiction a kind of waking dream, something two or more people do together?" Twice Grown asked, smelling of peppers and salt sea. He was intensely interested; but Martin also detected a whiff of turpentine, and that might have been nervousness.

"I suppose," Erin said. "One or more people make up a story—"

"But it is known to resemble the real?" Twice Grown interrupted, coils rustling.

"Fiction is based on real settings, sometimes," Carl said.

"We're getting into pretty abstract territory," Martin warned.

"Based on real behaviors, such that it is not unlikely for humans to behave in such a fashion?"

"Well…" Martin said.

"Characters in fiction sometimes do things real people would like to do, but don't dare," Erin said, pleased that she had scored a point of clarification.

Twice Grown did not understand. "I we have a question about this. I we have read short stories, and are now reading novels, which take long to eat."

"Finish," Paola suggested.

"To finish a novel. In some pages, I we see closeness with human behavior in a story, and in reality. But in other pages, other texts, behavior surpasses what I we have experienced. Are these behaviors not available to the humans we we know?"

"Which behaviors?" Erin asked.

Martin wished he could end the conversation now. The smell of turpentine had intensified. Twice Grown was either nervous, feeling threatened, or wanted to flee.

"Harming and other violences," Twice Grown replied. "The wishing to kill, to inactivate. I we have read Beowulf, and I we have read Macbeth. I we have also read The Pit and the Pendulum."

"Physical conflict is important in fiction," Martin said. "It plays a much smaller role in our everyday life."

Erin gave him a look that as much as said, Always the politician. "Some humans are capable of violence," she said. "Sometimes, when we're frightened… "

"This fear emotion, when you wish to flee or hide," Twice Grown interrupted, "it is different from we our fear. You not only wish to flee and hide, but to destroy the thing which causes fear."

"That makes sense, doesn't it?" Carl asked.

"But I we do not know this fear emotion. Is it akin to wishing to flee, or is it akin to a wish to do violence?"

"It's part of getting ready to run or fight back," Carl said. "An urge to protect oneself, or one's family and friends."

"But is it also awareness of the unknown? We we find the unknown powerful, like a stimulant. We we willingly sacrifice to the danger of unknown for experience in knowing, understanding. You do not?"

"We've had people willing to do that," Martin said.

"But they've been rare," Erin said. "Mostly, we try to conquer or protect ourselves against danger."

"That is difficult," Twice Grown said. "Are new friends not unknown? Do you wish to conquer new friends?"

"I think maybe we should put together a discussion group later," Martin said. "We need to think through our answers and not give wrong impressions."

"Need for more thinking, yes," Twice Grown said. "For looking at humans, there is a mystery not like looking at we ourselves; a wondering if perhaps there is death here, without cause, like a sharkness in the waves."

Erin's eyes widened. "Oh, no," she said. "Fiction is a way of letting off steam."

"What?" Twice Grown asked.

"She means, releasing personal and cultural tensions," Paola said. "I think Martin's right. We should think this over and let humans and Brothers debate and ask questions. We're just making things muddier."

Twice Grown grew still and tightened his coils. His odors had dissipated; Martin could smell nothing now. "I we would enjoy such a debate," he said. "To rid of the mud."

A snake mother and a mom awaited Martin, Paola, and Ariel, and two Brothers—Stonemaker and Eye on Sky—in empty quarters along the boundary between human and Brother territory.

Paola Birdsong seemed surprised that Martin had chosen her for this meeting, but Martin had grown more and more impressed with her skills in dealing with the Brothers.

Ariel was quiet, alert, and slightly nervous. Neither asked why they were chosen; he did not volunteer to tell them.

Martin had conferred with Hans about the meeting; he had been a little surprised when Hans had decided not to attend.

"I'm sure I'm a little tainted right now, having worked with Rex too closely," Hans had said. "You go. Ask some pointed questions." He had seemed subdued, even sad.

Martin put that from his mind as the snake mother and the mom settled themselves before them. Stonemaker and Eye on Sky sat in formal coils, rustling faintly. They emitted no scents Martin could detect.

"We may begin," the mom said.

"We have important decisions to make," Martin began. "But first we have to agree on overall strategies. And I think we have to… clear the air a little."

He hadn't meant to bring up the problem of trust; but now there was no way to avoid it.

Stonemaker said, "It is good we all we meet now. But for we us, clear air is ominous. Can you explain?"

"The more we learn about Leviathan, the more confused we become," Martin said. "It looks like a thriving stellar system."

"Like a shoreline marketplace," Paola said by way of enhancement for the Brothers.

"Yes," Eye on Sky said.

"We haven't seen visitors come from outside, so perhaps it's an isolated market," Martin continued. "But there's evidence many different races live there. If this isn't another illusion, or if we can't penetrate the illusion from this distance, what are we going to do next?"

"Do you ask us?" the mom inquired.

"Not really. I'm just throwing the question open."

"We we are opposed to passing judgment without conclusive evidence," Stonemaker said.

"So are we," Martin said. "But we're also fairly convinced this is another blind the Killers are hiding behind."

"We all we must be more than fairly certain to condemn these worlds," Eye on Sky said.

"I think we're in agreement," Martin said. They still have no scent; what's going on? "So we have to design the mission accordingly. How many ships can we make out of Dawn Treaderand the Journey House?"

The mom said, "As many as are required. How many do you contemplate?"

"At least three. Humans have talked about entering the Leviathan system in disguise, as visitors. Could we create a different kind of ship, something that doesn't look at all like a Ship of the Law?"

"Yes," the mom said.

"Would it be within the Law for the ships' minds to help us create such a disguise?"

"An interesting question, I we agree," Stonemaker said.

"It would be no more inappropriate than providing you with the original Ships of the Law," the mom said.

"I think we should assume Leviathan is not what it seems," Martin said.

"A reasonable beginning," Stonemaker said.

"Just to be cautious," Martin added.

"Agreed."

"Acting under such an assumption, we also should assume that the beings behind the disguise are Killers…"

"Agreed," Stonemaker repeated.

"And the Killers probably have some knowledge, perhaps extensive knowledge, of the civilizations in this vicinity, and what they're capable of," Martin said.

"You wish to design a ship that might come from such a civilization," the mom said.

"Yes. A ship that couldn't be destroyed without interstellar repercussions," Martin said.

"You are assuming," Eye on Sky began, "that this disguise is meant for senses other than we all our own. That the Killers of worlds assume they are under scrutiny from others besides we all ourselves."

Martin nodded.

"He means yes," Paola said.

"It is remarkable insight," Stonemaker said. A faint smell of peppers and baking bread: interest, perhaps pleasure for one or more of the Brothers. "I we see this is related to your literature, as a fiction or strategic lie. Would all this joined Ship of the Law be part of play-act?"

"Hans and I believe the ship should divide into several parts," Martin said. "One part will enter the system, disguised but essentially unarmed, to investigate; the other two will orbit far outside. If a guilty verdict is reached, weapons can be released by the ships outside. We can try to finish the Job. If the Killers no longer live here—"

"Or if we can't hurt them without hurting innocents," Ariel said. Martin cringed inwardly. Yes, but what if?

"Or if we can't find them or recognize them," Martin amended, "then we'll rejoin and change our plans."

"That is feasible," the mom said. "Useful information will be made available. Do you wish to design the vessel that enters the Leviathan system, or do you wish us to design it for you?"

"We can do it, but I think we'll need assistance," Martin said. Ariel was about to add something, but he looked at her dourly and she clenched her jaw.

"Your designers should think about these things," the mom said. "The ship to enter Leviathan's system must not appear overtly threatening, nor should it appear to come from a weak civilization. It should not, however, appear to have technology equal to that possessed by the Ships of the Law, specifically, the ability to convert matter to anti-matter. Your crew must appear innocent of all knowledge of killer probes."

Martin agreed.

"When will your groups make their decisions?" the mom asked.

"In a couple of days, maybe sooner," Martin said.

"Separation and super-deceleration will have to begin within a tenday," the mom said.

"Is there anything else we'd find useful?" Martin asked.

"There is no possibility that the Killers, if they still exist around Leviathan, have knowledge of humans," the mom continued. "No killer probes escaped Earth's system. There is a small possibility they have knowledge of the Brothers. Transmissions by the killer probes from the Brothers' system were monitored, information content unknown."

"We we would like to be part of the crew of any entry vessel," Eye on Sky said. "This might be a difficulty?"

"It might," the mom concluded.

The snake mother arched and floated a few centimeters above the ground, a purple ladder field faintly visible beneath. In this, too, they differed from the moms; Martin had never seen a mom display its field. Its voice sounded like a low wind interpreted by the string section in an orchestra. "Brothers may play key roles in ships that stay outside the system," it said.

"Is that something they will vote on?" Paola asked, brow wrinkling.

"It is something to be decided by the Brothers in private," the snake mother said.

Eye on Sky and Stonemaker produced strong smells of salt sea air. "So is it," Stonemaker said. "There will be a Triple Merging for objectivity and decisions will be made before next day comes."

"I have one more question," Martin said, feeling his chest constrict. "It isn't an easy one, and I hope for a straightforward answer."

Silence from the robots. Eye on Sky and Stonemaker rustled faintly.

"Some of us have been given the impression—rather, we've observed—that the Brothers' libraries are much more extensive than our own. Why are they more extensive?"

The mom said, "Each race is given the information necessary to carry out its part of the Law."

"We feel the ships' minds may not think humans are as trustworthy as the Brothers," Martin continued.

"Every race differs in its needs and capacities," the mom said. "Information differs for that reason."

"Will we be denied any of the information contained in the Brothers' libraries?" Martin asked.

"You will be denied nothing you need, as a group, to complete your Job."

The snake mother said, "Your Ship of the Law is older than the Brothers' ship. There are design differences."

"I thought that might explain part of the…" Martin said, trailing off.

"Attitudes and designs change," the snake mother added.

"We have discussed this before," the mom said.

Martin nodded. "I'd like to have it made more clear. Do you trust humans as much as you trust the Brothers?"

"We are not designed to trust or distrust, or to make any such decisions regarding character," the mom replied.

"Please," Martin said through clenched teeth. Ariel reached out and touched his hand, and he gripped hers tightly, feeling her support, her strength. "We do not need evasive answers. The Benefactors could not have known our character before you sent your ships into the Earth's system… You must have made some judgment, reached some decision about our capacities."

The ship's voice spoke. Martin was startled. "The ships' minds can't make such decisions. If such a decision was made, we didn't make it."

He felt tears on his cheeks and gritted his teeth, ashamed at showing such emotion. "Are we inferior to the Brothers?"

Stonemaker became agitated. His rustling increased until his entire length vibrated. Eye on Sky coiled and uncoiled twice, weaving his head. "Offense is given here," Stonemaker said. "We we do not wish we our partners to feel offensed."

"Offended," Paola corrected automatically.

"We need to know whether we are trusted," Martin repeated, it seemed to him, for the hundredth time.

"Both libraries will be open to those who wish to conduct research," the ship's voice said. "What is shared and is not shared is up to humans and Brothers, not to the ships' minds."

"We came close to the edge," Paola said sadly as they walked toward Hans' quarters. "Maybe we don't want to know the whole truth."

"Maybe the Brothers are afraid of us," Ariel said. "Of what we might become."

"What do they think we'll do?" Paola asked.

Martin's voice shook with anger—and with more than a little guilt. "They might think we'll become planet killers," he said.

Ariel shivered to untense her muscles. "Rex certainly didn't convince them otherwise," she said. "What about the moms?"

"Maybe they think so, too," Martin said.

"Wouldn't they have dumped us or killed us or something?" Paola objected.

"Not if they're forced to enact the bloody Law," Ariel said. "We were victims. They rescued us. They need us to finish the Job."

"Why not push us aside, and let the Brothers do the Job?" Paola asked. "They only need one set of victims."

"So maybe we've scared the Brothers. What have we shown them to the contrary?" Martin asked.

Paola stared back at him, jaw quivering. "Me," she said, pointing to herself. "You. We're not all like Rex."

"How could they know?" Ariel asked. "Let's just ask ourselves that."

"By looking at me!" Paola said, crying openly now. "I'm not like that!"

"Do they expect to send pacifists out to kill worlds?" Martin asked, feeling his anger build, then deflate. He let his shoulders slump. "What are we? Allies, or just bad cargo? "

Hans examined the designs for the Trojan Horse, nodding and humming faintly. Martin, Hakim, Cham, Donna Emerald Sea, and Giacomo had spent the better part of two days working out the design and details with Dry Skin, Silken Parts, and Eye on Sky; even now, in the Brothers' quarters, Eye on Sky presented the design to Stonemaker for his approval.

"It certainly doesn't look like a Ship of the Law," Hans concluded. "It looks like a pleasure barge."

Eighty meters long, with a brilliant red surface, laser/solar sails folded and rolled along its length, two curving arms reaching from a spindle-shaped body, small, heavily shielded matter-anti-matter drives mounted fore and aft, the Trojan Horsewould appear to be the product of a relatively youthful technology, star travel on the cheap.

Humans and Brothers had come up with something unarmed, innocuous—in so far as any starship could be innocuous, heralding the arrival of potential rivals or partners—and even jaunty.

"The moms say it can be built," Martin said. "They say it will fly, and it will be convincing."

"Do they say anything about our fitness to be allies?" Hans asked. The circles under his eyes had darkened. He spent much of his time alone in his quarters, as he sat now, in the center of the room, legs crossed.

A second cushion waited empty nearby; Rosa might still share his quarters occasionally. Yet the condition of a few vases of sickly flowers showed that she had probably not been here for several days.

"Are we fit for the Job?" Hans asked.

"I don't know what they think," Martin said. "Rex caused a lot of bad feeling. If the Brothers can experience something like bad feeling…"

"What would they have thought if I'd executed Rex right there, on the spot?" Hans said. "Would that have made them happy?"

"Would have made things much worse," Martin said.

"Well, if they don't like us now, they're going to really have it in for us in a couple of days," Hans said.

"Why?"

"Rosa's on her own," Hans said. "You should have been here, Martin. She refuses to slick, she looks me right in the eye, and she says," he began to do a fair imitation of Rosa's strong, musical voice, " 'I have been shown what you are. I have been shown that you are mocking me, and holding me back from my duty.' " Hans grinned. "At least it took her this long to catch on. Not bad for delaying action, right?"

Martin looked away.

Hans' grin vanished. "She's going to start up again, Martin, and this time she really has something good for us. She's damned near psychic, and she's tuning in to our inadequacy. 'We have sinned. We are not worthy of the Job.' Good stuff to toss out now, right?"

"Where is she?" Martin asked.

"I don't know."

"I'll ask Ariel to look out for her."

"Yes, but who will keep her under control? She should be the one banished and locked away. Before she's done, she'll have us all at each other's throats." Hans picked up the wand and projected the ship's design again. "Who's going to be on board?"

"The moms and snake mothers think there's a small chance the Killers might have information about the Brothers. The Brothers are willing to let the crew be human—"

Hans laughed with a bitter edge that set Martin's neck hair on end. "It's probably a suicide mission. How kind of them."

Martin's jaw worked. "Don't underestimate them, Hans. They want to go. They want to do the Job as much as we do."

"I'd rather survive to see it done."

"At any rate," Martin said, "I thought, subject to your approval, that it would be better psychologically and politically if we took the chance, and had Brothers on the crew. "

Hans rotated the ship's image, poked his tongue into his cheek, rolled it over his teeth beneath closed lips. "How do we explain two species aboard, if we party with Leviathan's citizens? "

"Hakim and Giacomo are working up a whole fake history. Two intelligent species from one star system, cooperating after centuries of war. The alliance is still fragile, but the crew is disciplined—"

"We're better at making up stories than the Brothers, I hear," Hans said.

"After a fashion."

"Where's the origin?"

"Hakim has found a buttercup star about forty light years from Leviathan. For the Trojan Horse, that would mean a journey of about four hundred years. The crew will have just come out of deep freeze."

"They get this bucket up to, what, one fifth, one sixth c? What's the drive?"

"In theory, laser propulsion and solar sail to the outskirts of the home system, primitive matter-anti-matter beyond, no sumps, no conversion technology," Martin said.

"And the Killers won't know this is all crap? Can't they detect drive flares at forty light years? Didn't their probes hit on this star system?"

"For a ship this size, detection of drive flares at forty light years would be almost impossible. The moms say the chosen system shows no signs of being visited. They say the ruse probably will work."

Hans rolled his tongue across his teeth again, looked away. "If they say it, it must be so."

"Do you approve the design?"

Hans shrugged. "It looks fine to me. Who's going?"

"That's your decision, of course," Martin said.

"I'm glad you've left me something to do."

Martin did not rise to the gibe. "If you're having a problem with any of this, or with me, best to talk it out now."

Hans looked at Martin darkly. "I'm worried about crew morale. I'll be damned if I can find any easy solution, or any solution at all."

"Isolate Rosa," Martin said.

"There are about twenty Wendys and Lost Boys who would be very upset if we isolated Rosa. She's been quiet, but busy."

Martin raised his eyebrows, baffled.

"I'm working on it," Hans said with forced cheer. "You seem to be doing well with this stuff. Keep it up." He waved his hand as if shooing a fly and made a wry face. "Hell with it. Forget what I said. Brothers and humans. You choose the human crew. I'd like to be on the ship, but I don't think that will be possible. So pick yourself. You'll be number one again, at least aboard the Trojan Horse."

Martin stood beside Hans for a few more seconds, but Hans had nothing more to say, lost in his thoughts.

Two days before separation, humans and Brothers exhausted from endless drills and conferences, Leviathan a growing point of light and remotes spread to their farthest extent, Martin was overwhelmed by far more information than he could possibly absorb. In his rest periods—now reduced to one or two hours a day—he slept fitfully, images of Leviathan's bizarre coterie of fifteen worlds haunting his dreams.

Theodore Dawn sat in a wood-paneled library with him and pulled out book after book, opening them to pictures of ill-defined threats and dangers until, with a laugh, Theodore simply tossed the books into the air. "We always knew we'd die, didn't we, Marty?"

"You're already dead," Marty said.

"We're Brothers under the skin. But even if we die, so will they," Theodore said.

"Who?" Martin asked, wondering if he meant the Killers of Earth, or the Brothers.

He awoke with wand clutched in his hand, and no answer.

"Three ships, Greyhound, Shrike, and Trojan Horse," Hans said, projecting the designs of all three before the seven occupants of the schoolroom: Eye on Sky, Silken Parts, Stonemaker, Twice Grown, Paola, Ariel, and Martin.

Eye on Sky and Ariel would be going with the Trojan Horseand Martin. Stonemaker would be in charge of Shrike.

Hans said, "You've all worked out the Trojan Horse'smission: envoy and explorer for a young, naive two-species civilization, four hundred years in space. Enough clues to make the Killers think that in the four centuries since Trojan Horseleft its system, the civilizations have probably become much, much stronger, and would not appreciate having their early explorers destroyed… Donna Emerald Sea and Silken Parts are designing costumes reflecting the cultures." He smiled. "Sounds like the Brothers are learning the art of fiction."

"But this is lying," Stonemaker said. "The difference was clear, we we thought."

"Strategically, no difference," Hans said. " Greyhoundand Shrikehave enough weapons and fuel to cook four of the fifteen planets, or enough to blow one planet completely apart, into orbit about itself if we aren't interfered with—no defenses—a big if… The human crews are ready."

"Brothers are ready," Stonemaker said, smelling of ripe fruit and cut grass.

"Then we bring the plan to both crews." Hans raised his hands and the Brothers lifted their splayed heads high. "Courage!" he said. "Does that translate well? "

"It is the smell of being born," Stonemaker said.

"Couldn't put it better myself," Hans said.

Martin came awake to a soft touch on his shoulder. He had fallen asleep in the schoolroom, leaning against a wall. He rubbed his eyes and saw Erin Eire kneeling beside him. "Too much drill?" she asked.

He stood and stretched. They had two days until the split; preparations had come flooding down on them, and he was embarrassed that his exhaustion had made him drop off in a public place. "Trying to sleep before super deceleration."