THSSTHFOK SLIPPED through the softened floor of his cell into the empty room below. After several visits to bypa.s.s various sensors and control circuits, the pa.s.sage was routine. But this trip was in no way routine.

This trip, he would seize the ship.

33.

The next day, the Hindmost's grand salon looked the same. The partic.i.p.ants were the same. The aura, though- That, Sigmund sensed, had had changed. Today there was a shoot-the-messenger vibe. changed. Today there was a shoot-the-messenger vibe.

Meaning Sigmund had nothing to lose by pushing. "New Terra can't win this fight. Nor can the Gw'oth. Nor can the Fleet." Because you won't won't fight. "In a few years, if nothing changes, the Pak will smash our worlds back to a preindustrial state." fight. "In a few years, if nothing changes, the Pak will smash our worlds back to a preindustrial state."

A trillion Puppeteers depended on tech for everything everything. A crash of the stepping-disc system would trap most deep inside their gargantuan buildings. Finagle! Those rooms were usually doorless and windowless. Billions would suffocate in their rooms, for lack of oxygen.

Sigmund said nothing, letting the implications speak for themselves.

"But you have a proposal," Nessus said hopefully.

Sigmund wanted to lock eyes with the decision maker, but the Hindmost held his heads too far apart. Sigmund chose one eye to look at. "To stand any chance against the Pak, we need an ally with a strong navy. Nike, we need Earth Earth."

Sigmund thought he knew all the possible objections. That the Fleet relied for its safety on remaining hidden from the races of Known s.p.a.ce. That Earth would rather attack Puppeteers-as punishment for the ancient crime against the New Terrans-than help the Puppeteers. That Earth's navy could evacuate New Terra, or defend only New Terra, while abandoning Hearth to its fate. That not even the ARM, for all its resources, was equal to the task. That Earth would rather sacrifice the few New Terrans than divert its navy and leave itself defenseless against the ever-resentful Kzinti.

Those objections were really all facets of a single argument: distrust. Better to risk disaster later from the Pak than court disaster now at Earth's hands.

Sigmund had spent the night pacing, refining possible reb.u.t.tals, as Baedeker snored lyrically in the next room. Sigmund's answers, too, boiled down to one. The Concordance had nothing to lose by trying. Only he never got the chance to argue his point.

"Earth is gone," Vesta said. "All the human worlds. The Kzinti worlds. All the worlds you remember, Sigmund. They were in the path of the Pak."

Faces from Sigmund's past flashed through his mind. That part of his memory, cruelly, remained intact. But it wasn't only old friends and colleagues. Billions, surely, had died. Billions whom, as an ARM, Sigmund had sworn to protect. Billions he had failed.

Almost he gave in to despair-but, tanj it!-he was no Puppeteer to hide within himself. Anger washed away the grief. Grief yielded to cold, calculating reason. In that moment of clarity, Sigmund knew: He didn't believe Vesta. The question was, why not?

Because something didn't square with Sigmund's intuition about the Pak.

For all Thssthfok's self-control, he had reacted to the name Phssthpok. Then, discussing Phssthpok's ambitions at length, a way of changing the subject from Pak military capabilities, Thssthfok had corroborated many details in Lucas Garner's recitation.

So, the Pak of Thssthfok's era knew of the attempt to restore tree-of-life to the lost colony. To Earth. Somehow that knowledge was the heart of- Sigmund still couldn't say what.

Nessus was eyeing Sigmund warily. Expecting him to react crazily?

Pak. The Pak had left behind a cone of destruction. A cone, rather than some more constant cross section, because the clans fought endlessly among themselves. Clan fleets scattering, whether in defeat or for some strategic advantage. Brennan had told Lucas Garner the same things about endless clan conflict.

If the few survivors of Pakhome might encounter a world world of Pak in their path, a of Pak in their path, a world world of enemies, would they dare to follow the route Phssthpok had taken? of enemies, would they dare to follow the route Phssthpok had taken?

No.

Sigmund's face flushed and he trembled with rage. Let the Puppeteers think he reacted to Vesta's news. To Vesta's lies lies. Sigmund somehow resisted taking Vesta by the throats.

Guards watching from the patio burst into the salon. "Excellency?" one of them said.

"He had some bad news," Nike explained. The guards relaxed a bit. "Will you be all right, Sigmund?"

"I need a minute." Sigmund settled into a pile of cushions. He curled into a comma, dramatically, his face buried in his arms.

A guard glared at Sigmund. Sitting when the Hindmost stood must be a major breach of decorum. At a gesture from Nike the security detachment returned outside.

A minute. Sigmund needed more than that. Baedeker had twitched at Vesta's announcement, but not Nike or Nessus. They had known what was coming, been in on the lie.

"May I get you some water, Sigmund?" Nessus asked. He looked genuinely concerned.

"Yes, thanks." While Sigmund waited for water and nursed it along, he was able to think without interruption. Nessus had taken his time returning with the water, and Sigmund began to wonder. Did Nessus want want to give Sigmund that time to think? to give Sigmund that time to think?

Nike and Nessus hadn't reacted much yesterday, either. They should should have shaken with fear, torn at their manes, pawed the floor-something. They had already known about the Pak! have shaken with fear, torn at their manes, pawed the floor-something. They had already known about the Pak!

It could only mean a source deep within Sabrina's government. Only a mole could have leaked this information. And if Sigmund revealed his suspicions, they would know he knew.

The previous evening, Nessus had come by the "guest suite." Just a social call, he had explained. Just seeing that you have everything you need. Then Nessus and Baedeker had talked for a long time. They sang in odd cadences and in an eerie, not-quite-minor key, the conversation somehow raising Sigmund's hackles.

He was no expert, but it hadn't sounded like any Puppeteer language he had ever heard.

After Nessus left, Sigmund had asked Baedeker what that had been about. "Personal," had been the answer. Settling their old scores, Sigmund had hoped at the time. But why now?

Nessus sidled closer. "Sigmund, you do not look well. Perhaps you need some time alone to absorb this information. We can reconvene later."

"That might be for the best," Sigmund said. He stumbled for effect while climbing to his feet. Let everyone think him muddled with grief.

Contact with Earth wasn't going to happen-not, anyway, with help from the Puppeteers. Vesta's lie was meant to cut off all debate on that point. But if not Earth, then who?

Nessus had unreasonable confidence in Sigmund-which was how Sigmund had ended up on New Terra. That same misplaced trust, presumably, was why Nessus had offered Sigmund an out just now. The sad truth was, obtaining Earth's help had been his last plan.

But though Sigmund didn't have a plan, neither did he know how to quit....

34.

With an inward sigh, Kirsten extended an arm out of the sleeper field and groped in the dark for the touchpoint. She wasn't going to sleep tonight. Eric tossed fitfully, but at least he was was asleep. She didn't chance disturbing him by whispering to Jeeves to collapse the field. She found the touchpoint, rolled beyond the reach of the force field, and reactivated it before Eric stirred. asleep. She didn't chance disturbing him by whispering to Jeeves to collapse the field. She found the touchpoint, rolled beyond the reach of the force field, and reactivated it before Eric stirred.

A generalized fear kept her up most nights. How could she not not fear, with the Pak hurtling toward everyone she held dear? Beginning with her and Eric's own precious children. fear, with the Pak hurtling toward everyone she held dear? Beginning with her and Eric's own precious children.

To that generalized dread, a more immediate problem had been added. Sigmund was overdue checking in.

She dressed in the dark, grabbed her comm unit from the desk, and slipped out the hatch into the nightshift-dim corridor. She whispered, "Jeeves. Any word from Sigmund?"

No answer. An audio sensor gone bad, she thought. She repeated herself into her comm unit.

Jeeves answered the same way. "Sorry, Kirsten. No word. It may not mean anything."

Sigmund had guessed the Citizens would keep him incommunicado throughout discussions. The absence of contact might mean nothing. Her gut said otherwise.

Hearth and New Terra maintained an open network channel, more for the interplanetary grain trade than the occasional official dealings between governments. If Sigmund had a comm unit, Kirsten felt certain, he would have contacted Don Quixote Don Quixote by now via a relay through New Terra. by now via a relay through New Terra.

Her gut also growled for a snack. She rounded a corner, toward the relax room- And jerked to a halt. She raised the comm to her lips. "Jeeves! Why is the emergency hatch closed? Deck three, just beyond my cabin."

"You're mistaken, Kirsten," Jeeves answered imperturbably.

What? "I'm looking right at it, Jeeves. It's down. Sealed."

"Take the corridor around the other way. What do you see on the other side?"

Why didn't Jeeves use a security camera? She didn't ask. She could do as he suggested just as quickly.

Only she couldn't couldn't cross. "The emergency hatch outside Sigmund's cabin is also down." cross. "The emergency hatch outside Sigmund's cabin is also down."

"Then it's not an isolated glitch, Kirsten. The security system shows those hatches open. Cameras and proximity sensors both."

Together with all the sound pickups. The nonfunctioning audio sensor outside her cabin would not be the only one.

Kirsten's heart pounded. She almost asked, where is Thssthfok? Where are the Gw'oth? Either question was pointless. With the security system compromised, Jeeves could not know.

She had had to protect the ship from capture. "Eric's in our cabin. Wake him. Then raise gravity to six gees everywhere but our cabin and this segment of this corridor." to protect the ship from capture. "Eric's in our cabin. Wake him. Then raise gravity to six gees everywhere but our cabin and this segment of this corridor."

A moment later, a faint but grating alarm seeped from her cabin door. And a moment after that, the deck fell out from under her.

Gravity was gone.

THSSTHFOK PROCEEDED TO THE BRIDGE, systematically softening emergency hatches and hardening them behind him. In any event, he headed opposite shipboard gravity. Pak ships always placed bridges forward. Absent knowledge of human design practices, he reasoned that his distant relatives would, also.

Hardening the hatches slowed him down, but overriding emergency hatch controls would slow any pursuers much longer. On the remote chance something kept him from capturing the ship, he meant to keep secret his ability to pa.s.s through doors and walls. Because he would not stop until this ship was his.

The glow panels overhead were dimmed for sleep. He expected to reach the bridge undetected. From there he would depressurize the middle decks, trapping the humans in their cabins until he wanted them.

And then the gravity vanished.

AGAINST THE WEARYING PULL OF SHIP'S GRAVITY, in the discomfort of his protective suit, Er'o labored at the compact fabrication bench in the habitat water lock. Ship's air presently filled the work s.p.a.ce. Another few shifts and the newest sensors would be complete. Ol't'ro felt confident these instruments would yield important new data on the operation of hyperdrive.

With that trace of meld memory, Er' o's aches faded to mere annoyances. He extended a tubacle, adjusting the fine-motion calipers. Motors in his exoskeleton hummed as it moved.

And then gravity disappeared.

A surprised twitch sent Er'o drifting upward in the water lock. His dorsal side rebounded gently off the water-lock roof.

He engaged suit magnets and stretched tubacles toward the water-lock deck. In rapid succession, as each limb tip struck, clangs rang through the water in his suit. "What is happening?" he radioed into the habitat.

Th'o answered first. "Happening? What do you mean?"

Because floating in water was indistinguishable from microgravity. No one in the habitat, unless they happened to be checking sensors, would have noticed the change.

"Jeeves," Er'o called over the suit's audio output, "why is gravity off?" No answer. Er'o switched radio frequencies to the intercom channel. "This is Er'o. Anyone, why is gravity off?"

UNSEEN AROUND THE CORNER, a cabin door crashed open. "Over here, Eric," Kirsten called.

He came into view a moment later, walking on the stripe down the center of the deck. He wore sticky slippers. He handed her a pair. "What the tanj is happening?"

She popped a cover plate to get at the emergency-hatch control circuits. If the hatch held back vacuum, the pressure differential would keep it sealed whatever she tried. "Jeeves didn't see the hatches come down."

"So someone has compromised security," he completed her thought, and then raised his voice. "Jeeves, did you kill gravity?"

"Use your comm," she told Eric. "Audio pickups are off, too. So we can't hear whoever is behind this."

Eric repeated his question over a comm link.

"Indirectly," Jeeves answered. "I tried to raise gravity, and the circuits blew."

"This is Er'o," she heard over the intercom. "Anyone, why is the gravity off?"

Gw'oth or Pak? Kirsten looked helplessly at Eric. "We're losing the ship, Eric, and we don't even know to whom."

At her insistent probing, a status light flickered from red to green. The emergency hatch began to rise. She caught a glimpse of-what?

A naked heel disappearing around a corner. Toward the stairs to the bridge level.

Gw'oth didn't have heels.

"Thssthfok is loose and almost to the bridge," she shouted into her comm unit. "Stay put, Er'o." That left open the question what she and Eric could do.