"Home was ... homey. Earth-like, compared to most of the interstellar colonies. To the extent I paid attention, Home was one of the thriving settlements."

"It's history for me"-Alice flinched at his reminder-"but the first colony on Home failed. A few million people, gone. The resettlement did fine."

"Why did the first colony fail?"

"I'm not sure." Sigmund paused to consider his own answer. There were many ways not to know. This gap lacked the violated feeling of Nessus' tampering. Then had he simply forgotten? Had he dismissed the topic as dry, dead history, back when he could easily have learned it? Was the knowledge there but buried, too long gone from his attention? He probed his ignorance, like a tongue worrying a chipped tooth. "Let me rephrase. I believe no one knows for sure."

She frowned. "So no survivors out of a population of millions, and no records. How is that possible?"

How, indeed? "Either a plague or a civil war," he said.

A Kzinti raid was an improbable third option, this being around the time Kzinti first wandered into human s.p.a.ce. But Kzinti would have taken slaves (and prey!) rather than obliterate the place and move on.

The first known Kzinti encounter was in... 2366, after Alice's time. Sigmund pushed the ratcats from his thoughts. "One of the colony's last messages mentioned the outbreak of an unfamiliar illness. As you say, Home was the most Earth-like of colonies. Maybe the native germs were more Earth-like, too. So a.s.sume a deadly mutation. Without hosts, the bug, too, went extinct."

"Great options, Sigmund. A plague with one hundred percent fatalities. Or a planetary population driven to exterminate themselves. And this world still got resettled?"

His answers sounded stupid. This side of a debrief wasn't fun. It was was helpful. Truth dangled just beyond Sigmund's reach. "A shipload of new settlers was well on its way before anyone heard Home's call for help." helpful. Truth dangled just beyond Sigmund's reach. "A shipload of new settlers was well on its way before anyone heard Home's call for help."

"So the original colony failed before hyperwave and hyperdrive."

"Right." For a while the only sounds were the zzp zzp-zzp of sticky slippers as they walked. "As I said, one of their last messages mentioned an illness. The new settlers found no trace." of sticky slippers as they walked. "As I said, one of their last messages mentioned an illness. The new settlers found no trace."

"And no human remains to study?" Alice said skeptically. "No records?"

In bits and pieces, under her skillful guidance, more ancient history came back to Sigmund. "There were remains: very thoroughly cremated." Fire: the last resort of medical helplessness. Like something from the Middle Ages.

Alice led the way, turning randomly at cross corridors. Every bulkhead showed the drab gray translucence of powered-down digital wallpaper. They could be anywhere aboard the ship, and it was very disorienting.

Disoriented subjects tended to blurt out things. Alice knew her stuff, Sigmund decided.

"So who burnt the final victims?" she asked.

"The colony was a mess," Sigmund recalled. "Towns burned or blown up. Equipment unaccounted for. The bottom line remains: no bodies, no survivors, no viable computer records.

"The new arrivals had expected to find a thriving civilization. Instead, they had to build from scratch. They had far more urgent tasks than forensics, and ARM experts were light-years away."

"Complete destruction? No recoverable trace of a pathogen? Come on on, Sigmund."

She was only making him face facts he already knew. The lost colony had never bothered him. Why did it gnaw at him now?

That was the wrong question. What did he know now he had not known before? Almost Almost, he had it. He plodded down the corridor, his mind racing.

Alice said, "It doesn't sound like accidental destruction. It sounds like a war."

War had a bitter quality in her mouth. She came from a golden age. After humans had learned to live reasonably peacefully together. Before the Kzinti showed up and obliterated that way of life. A golden age ... had a bitter quality in her mouth. She came from a golden age. After humans had learned to live reasonably peacefully together. Before the Kzinti showed up and obliterated that way of life. A golden age ...

Brennan's doing, somehow?

Tanj! He had to focus. "Then maybe not an accidental plague. If the pathogen was military..."

She turned another corner. In the near freezing corridors, their breath hung in white clouds.

Sigmund could imagine battles between towns with an untreatable plague and towns trying to stay isolated-or to burn out the contagion. He could imagine terrified people trying to break quarantine. He could imagine survivors cobbling together ships and trying to escape. He could imagine a lot lot of things. Where was this getting them? of things. Where was this getting them?

After Alice's time. Well before his. "Before hyperwave," he said wonderingly. "The Outsiders came upon humans soon after your time. In ... 2409. Near the colony We Made It." And by meeting humans before Kzinti, the encounter turned the course of the war. "A few years later, every colony had a hyperwave radio buoy."

They came to a stairwell. Alice pulled open the hatch and started down a level. "2409. That's getting close to my time."

That was what bothered him. Bothered? No, intrigued. "You said Home colony was about eleven light-years from Earth. Right?" was what bothered him. Bothered? No, intrigued. "You said Home colony was about eleven light-years from Earth. Right?"

"Right," she said.

"Suppose Brennan and Truesdale went from Kobold to Home. They can't beat light speed. They have to accelerate and decelerate. When would they reach Home?"

"They were going to Wunderland, Sigmund."

"They didn't arrive there." Probably because Brennan lied to Alice about his destination, lest she be found and tell someone. No need to rub her face in that. "Maybe they saw something that made them change course. When would they get to Home?"

She opened the hatch onto another deck and gestured Sigmund through. "A protector built that ship. You tell me how fast it went."

"It would've been a ramscoop, Alice. Phssthpok came by ramscoop, and in your time crew-rated ramscoops were the latest technology." Centuries earlier the Long Pa.s.s Long Pa.s.s had been a crewed ramscoop. With had been a crewed ramscoop. With Long Pa.s.s Long Pa.s.s's disappearance, ramscoops had had their crew rating pulled. That was yet more dark history he needed to share with her. But not today. "When Thssthfok left Pakhome, his people still used ramscoops."

She considered. "Fine. Say that Roy and Brennan leave Kobold in 2341. That's eleven years at light speed to Home. Add a year or two more cruising time because they can't quite reach light speed. Add another year or so for accelerating and decelerating. They'd get to Home in the 2350s."

And the colony on Home had failed no later than the very early 2400s. Had it happened any later, the plague would have been reported by hyperwave, and a relief mission dispatched by hyperdrive. "Those dates are suspiciously close together, Alice."

She nodded, setting her Belter crest to bobbing. "You'll get no argument from me."

He didn't need to take on faith that Alice had seen a protector-he had Kirsten's characterization of the singleship modifications. Finagle, he'd found her in Brennan's old singleship.

And as spotty as was Sigmund's knowledge of Belter history, Alice knew events from long after Brennan-monster should have starved to death. Put it all together and Brennan had had solved the tree-of-life virus problem, and so survived, and so met Alice long after. All of her story hung together, except the most critical part-the supposed threat to Earth of Pak fleets long overdue in Sigmund's day. solved the tree-of-life virus problem, and so survived, and so met Alice long after. All of her story hung together, except the most critical part-the supposed threat to Earth of Pak fleets long overdue in Sigmund's day.

"Sigmund? Are you all right?"

In his mind, finally, puzzle pieces fell into place. "Home had a plague, all right. A tree-of-life virus plague. A Pak plague. That's That's what wiped out the colony." He kept on despite Alice's look of revulsion. Everything was suddenly, horrifyingly clear. "Brennan set loose the Pak virus on Home. That's how he got help. He raised an army of protectors." what wiped out the colony." He kept on despite Alice's look of revulsion. Everything was suddenly, horrifyingly clear. "Brennan set loose the Pak virus on Home. That's how he got help. He raised an army of protectors."

Roy, surely, among them.

Alice glanced down fearfully at her belly. At Roy's baby. Her expression asked: Am I carrying a monster? "But protectors ... protect. What about Home's colonists?"

The colonists weren't related to Brennan or Roy. That made them expendable. Sigmund tried to think like a Pak, and about his many interrogations of Thssthfok. It made Sigmund ill-and eerily certain what must have happened.

"The original tree-of-life virus kills anyone too old," he said. "Suppose Brennan's variant also killed everyone too young. That would leave a population of childless protectors." And millions dead. Brennan had been right to call himself a monster. "Like Phssthpok, they could only die or adopt a cause. Brennan's cause: an armada to go after the Pak." And as they left, they torched the abandoned cities to obliterate every trace of their actions.

"But there were no traces of a virus," Alice insisted. There was no cool professionalism left in her. She wanted-desperately-to prove Sigmund wrong.

If only he were. "I imagine that the virus was engineered to be fragile outside its host. Maybe ultraviolet exposure killed it, maybe winter temperatures. Let a year pa.s.s, and Home was virus-free. Brennan would not have allowed rogue protectors to crop up among new settlers."

"Well at least you have your answer." Alice swallowed hard. "You say that in your time no one had heard of either Brennan's fleet or the Pak fleets. I see only one explanation. They wiped each other out." She glanced again at her belly. This look was more wistful: Your father is dead, baby. "In a gruesome way, isn't this good news?"

Had there been only one set of Pak fleets, the Librarians who had followed in Phssthpok's wake, then yes. Of course. But there was another another fleet. A merciless fleet, onrushing even now, its vanguard a scant few years from New Terra. Even as Sigmund dabbled in pointless historical mysteries. fleet. A merciless fleet, onrushing even now, its vanguard a scant few years from New Terra. Even as Sigmund dabbled in pointless historical mysteries.

"Here's how I see it," Sigmund said finally. "Millions become protectors. A world looted of anything useful to build a navy. None of them came back." Because if they had, they would have done something by now about the Kzinti. "So we know what it takes to stop a Pak fleet. A world of protectors."

While New Terrans were merely human, and Puppeteer-conditioned pacifists at that. Puppeteers, like Kzinti, were unheard of in the Sol system of Alice's day. She knew nothing of either.

Sigmund was thankful, suddenly, that Baedeker had followed another path. Alice had much study ahead of her before Sigmund could hope to pa.s.s her off-for her own good-as a New Terran native.

Not that it really mattered. Going down fighting remained the only option on the table.

He took a deep breath. "A world of human protectors only fought Phssthpok's allies to a draw. What does that say about our hopes of surviving this onslaught?"

DESTROYER OF WORLDS.

52.

Thssthfok paced his newest cell. He had tugged experimentally at every ma.s.sive metal bar of his cage, and ten Pak could not have bent them. The cell door, when armored guards opened it to deliver or remove a food tray, required a ma.s.sive metal key and squealed on its hinges. The walls beyond his reach behind the bars were concrete. So were the floor and ceiling. He had memorized every discoloration, ripple, dip, and b.u.mp in every surface.

Armored guards in a clear-walled observation room watched him at all times. To judge from the faces behind the visors, all were too young to respond to tree-of-life root-when, one tuber at a time, it was doled out-if their suits should tear. They were well trained and refused to be drawn into conversation. On the bright side, he had a toilet, bedding, and, beyond the bars, one small window.

His confinement was primitive, and would take that much longer to defeat because of it.

He exercised steadily. It helped fill the time. It kept him fit for the opportunity to escape that must come. To doubt was to die.

His jailers gave him reading material. The books offered nothing useful and he ignored them. Little animals with bushy tails sometimes perched on the ledge outside his window. He ignored them, too.

Colored lights blinked on the bracelet clamped around his ankle, radioing his location independently of the guards and the beyond-the-bars cameras. Perhaps the anklet would also shock or drug him if he tried to escape. Thssthfok would have built in that capability.

The metal band flexed under stiffened fingers. With effort, he thought, he could tear off the anklet, but opening the band would at a minimum open a circuit and trigger an alarm. But if the metal was weak enough to tear- Breeders fidget. Humans would think nothing of Thssthfok fidgeting. He spun the band, around and around and around, a finger exploring the inner surface. He found an array of pinholes that might emit a gaseous or aerosol drug. Something to knock him out on contact.

A bit of well-chewed food would plug the holes-blocking airflow sensors inside. They would know that he had noticed the mechanism. A new anklet with another knockout device might not offer the convenience of holes. Hooking a claw tip in a perforation, he began tugging and sc.r.a.ping. In time, he would expose the hidden circuitry... .

Movement in the observation room caught Thssthfok's eye. A newcomer, armored like the rest. The guards stood stiffly in his presence. The person turned and Thssthfok saw his face. Sigmund.

The door opened from the observation room into the prison. Sigmund came through and the door slammed shut behind him. He waited outside the bars. "h.e.l.lo, Thssthfok."

"Sigmund."

"Are you comfortable?"

Breeders cared about comfort. Perhaps Sigmund thought to induce or coerce him. "I would not mind a change of scenery." Someplace less securely guarded.

Sigmund sat in a chair placed far back from the cell. He took a computer from a pocket. "I have some interesting scenery in here."

Thssthfok had nothing else to do. He waited.

Sigmund said, "Here's the thing. Worlds important to me lie in the path of the Pak advance. It's necessary that the Pak go elsewhere."

Thssthfok knew of this world only what could be seen through his one tiny window: the planet had many suns. He supposed it was among the fleet of worlds glimpsed during a brief escape. "This world, for example."

Sigmund leaned forward. "We can do something for each other."

Breeders used crude social rituals to establish hierarchy, a.s.sign their simple tasks, select mates, and allocate their meager belongings. Thssthfok remembered his life as a breeder, remembered giving favors and expecting favors in turn. He remembered the vague sense, too ill-defined to articulate, that such social obligations somehow helped everyone.

With maturity came clarity and wisdom. You protected your family and your clan. You took what you could, and all that you could, to benefit your bloodline, but never more than you could defend. Nothing else mattered.

To seek allies exposed weakness and desperation. When you allied, you did so knowing the other side would betray you the moment the cost became acceptable. As the other side expected from you... .

Thus had clan Rilchuk aligned itself, so long ago, of dire necessity, with the comet dwellers. Thssthfok's fear for his breeders never ended.

Humans were neither breeder nor protector, but an unnatural mixture. Do something for each other Do something for each other. An advanced version of breeders trading favors, then. Sigmund had given aliens free run aboard his ship. Perhaps humans allied more readily than did protectors.

"What would you have me do?" Thssthfok asked.

A hologram leapt from the device in Sigmund's hand. A scattering of stars. A sprawling nebula, its dust and gas dimly lit by unseen stars within. And against that smoky backdrop: swarms of dots, in wave after wave, each wave shown in a separate color. The Pak fleets!

Nothing was as Thssthfok remembered from long-ago tactical displays, and yet ... In the third wave, a cl.u.s.ter of dots occupied the relative position the comet-dweller/Rilchuk forces had once dominated. They might be his old fleet. They might not. Deployments had evolved during his exile-as they must-in the shifting of alliances and the rise and fall of military fortunes.

Sigmund terminated the image. "Unnatural helium concentrations and ripples in the interstellar medium pinpoint the Pak ships coming this way."

"What would you have me do?" Thssthfok repeated.

"Spare my conscience. My people don't want to destroy your fleets, but we will."

"Conscience? What is that?"

Sigmund sighed. "Knowing right from wrong, and preferring to do the former."

Acts that benefited one's own were right. Failing to benefit one's own was wrong. To destroy one's enemy must always be right. If Sigmund could destroy the oncoming Pak fleets, he would. This conscience conscience changed nothing. changed nothing.

Thssthfok gestured at the metal bars. "I have no influence over your actions, Sigmund."

"But perhaps you could influence the Pak advance. Would they listen if you advised them to change their current course?"

Of course not. No rational adversary would lose the opportunity to destroy an adversary. Nothing Thssthfok could say would convince the clans that powerful opponents existed who might stay their hand. As nothing Sigmund said would ever convince Thssthfok.

Sigmund was attempting, incredibly, to bluff all the fleets of the Pak. But if Sigmund believed believed Thssthfok could influence the fleets- Thssthfok could influence the fleets- "It is possible," Thssthfok lied. "After my absence from the evacuation fleet, I must know more."

"Like what?"

"The balance of influence"-the balance of power-"among clans."