The Curiosity rose into the sky, and Iswander saw the other half of the split planet looming huge overhead. Tasia fought against thermal buffeting.

Once the evac ships departed, there would be no survivors left behind on Sheol. Some would die instantly in a flash of heat; those who managed to reach temporary shelter would bake slowly in a horrible death.

He had to start thinking and planning. He had a very serious problem.

CHAPTER.

24.

ORLI COVITZ.

Every time Orli entered her compy laboratory on Relleker, she felt like a teacher entering a classroom full of eager students.

"Good morning, Orli," said LU, a blue and gold Listener compy who had been with the laboratory complex since the beginning.

"Good morning, Orli," said MO, a Domestic model who had such an abhorrence of dirt and stains that she kept every surface spotless. MO circled the laboratory, dusting, scrubbing, polishing. The compy was cheerful as she worked, cleaning even before it was necessary, as if trying to intimidate dust and smudges ahead of time.

A year ago, when MO arrived at the facility as a donation, Orli had thought it was a good idea to put the Domestic compy to work in their own home, but MO's obsessive cleanliness was maddening, especially to her husband Matthew. She could understand why the original owners had gotten rid of her.

Now Orli was trying to modify the Domestic's programming to increase her tolerance; she wanted to make MO understand that while humans liked a clean home, they did not want an absolutely sterile environment. Once, when she and Matthew were having a meal together on their anniversary-a supposedly quiet and romantic meal, which had degenerated into a tense discussion-MO only made things worse by hovering close to the table and snatching away any dirty plate the moment either Orli or Matthew took a last bite....

Carrying her record pad and files of notes with ideas she wanted to pursue, Orli entered the main center to a chorus of "Good morning, Orli."

A decade ago, when she and Matthew got married, they had decided that rehabilitating discarded compies was what they wanted to do. When her old friend and companion Mr. Steinman passed away, he had left her some money, which Orli used to fund their work, and Matthew had inherited the facility building itself when his parents died.

Now, she had twenty-five compies here under study, each one contributing to the research as best they could. The different compy models used laboratory wallscreens to run diagnostics on themselves while running modified core programming. The compies were pleased to be guinea pigs. In fact, they were happy to be with her, since she took such good care of them.

Orli tried to keep track of all of their designations, not the full serial numbers, just the two-letter nicknames. The donated compies came and went as she did her therapeutic work on them, then found them new homes and useful assignments.

"Good morning, Orli," said another compy, whose voice she recognized.

Looking up with a warm smile, she said, "And good morning to you, DD."

She gave the little Friendly compy a hug. DD had been with her for most of her life, though his succession of owners dated back for more than a century. He spent much of his time in the lab complex when he wasn't with Orli in their home. Even Matthew was fascinated with him, tinkering with DD's deepest programming to determine what exactly the evil Klikiss robots had done to him when they held him captive for so many years.

Every standard compy possessed basic Asimov strictures, modified and expanded to encompass numerous scenarios; basically, the unbreakable subroutines forced compies to obey direct commands, and not to harm humans or let humans come to harm. Even so, after the major uprising of Soldier compies at the end of the Elemental War, people had become so uneasy that many had given up their compies, regardless of the model.

MO cheerfully brought Orli her cup of klee, a hot beverage brewed from ground worldtree seeds, a specialty of Theroc. "Your cup, just the way you like it, Orli."

"Thank you, MO."

Rlinda Kett's shipping company made a great profit distributing klee to other markets, especially the upscale consumers here on Relleker. Because she and Orli were so close, after all they had been through together, Rlinda made sure Orli always had a generous private supply. Since Matthew had never acquired a taste for klee, Orli had it all to herself.

She took a seat at her desk, logged onto the screens that displayed reports. Matthew's image appeared in the corner, but it was just a portrait, not a new communication. He was gone on a long business trip, traveling to Earth, New Portugal, Theroc, and Newstation, giving talks. He was a vocal advocate for compies, insisting that they were perfectly safe. Orli already knew that, as did anyone with common sense who had spent time around compies; they were so warm and personable, and so useful. But many people remained leery of them, despite the reassurances.

Before the Elemental War, compies had been ubiquitous throughout the Terran Hanseatic League, and they had also been used by the Roamer clans. But in the past twenty years, their popularity had dwindled. Very few were manufactured anymore. Maybe it would just take patience, Orli thought. Maybe it would take a great deal of crusading, which her husband was doing. She didn't much care for being on stage and the center of attention; fortunately, Matthew enjoyed it.

For her own part, while staying home in the quiet Relleker laboratory, she and DD recorded some standard educational lessons and released them widely, even though she doubted she made much impact out in the Confederation. DD seemed a natural, and she felt comfortable enough when she had rehearsed her talk. Orli performed a good educational service for anyone who was interested, but her subtle goal was to demonstrate how warm and charming DD could be. Such a faithful Friendly compy could never be a problem; people needed to see that.

Although in some ways the compy facility functioned like an animal shelter-since people dropped off troublesome or abandoned compies there-compies were far more than "animals" to her. She had always felt a close connection to them, especially to DD. She considered the facility more of an orphanage. And she wanted to find these compies homes.

When she and Matthew got married, they talked about having a family. Both wanted children. Unfortunately each came to that realization at a different time. Matthew decided he'd like to have a family just as they were establishing their compy laboratory, but Orli was too busy with the many strays who needed reprogramming to return to human society. Years later, when she was satisfied with her work, Orli decided she was ready to have children. But by then, Matthew had changed his mind and talked her out of it. Poor biological timing.

Matthew was proud of what they had accomplished in the compy laboratory, but he focused on the broader mission now, so he was often gone. Orli found that she didn't mind, since she had so many compies to keep her company, and DD was hers again. She never felt alone. Orli instructed the compies, learned from them, watched their actions, and she loved them.

Now, DD hovered by Orli's desk. "I arranged your files and answered some of the standard messages. Are you sure that's all right?"

"Of course it is, DD. Just like it was yesterday, and the day before." She shook her head. "How could I not trust you?"

"Would you like me to formulate an answer?"

"No, DD. It was rhetorical."

"Ah, a rhetorical question. I understand."

Orli and Matthew had everything they wanted, and they were doing good work. Although her marriage had not turned out to be as exciting or passionate as she had hoped, she was happy enough. She'd had a lifetime's worth of excitement in her younger years-far too much, in fact-and she felt no regret about having a quiet, normal life.

While Matthew went off on his lectures and crusades, she spent her days working here. Though Orli still felt an occasional bittersweet twinge that she hadn't had children of her own, these compies were enough. She and Matthew had agreed that it was enough.

MO brought her lunch, precisely at noon. "Your favorite, Orli. I've prepared a special dish that's exactly what you'll like."

Orli made a point of appreciating whatever MO created, though she had never given the Domestic compy any guidance as to which foods she actually liked. MO simply worked her way through numerous recipes in a catalogue and pronounced each one a delicious masterpiece.

MO hovered to take away her tray as soon as she finished the last bite. "Was it delicious?"

"It was delicious, MO."

DD came cheerfully into her office as she finished her meal. "A message just came in from your husband, delivered by a trader to Relleker."

"Thank you, DD," she said. Matthew preferred to record his messages and send them the old-fashioned way, rather than via a green priest, who would transmit the words through the worldforest network. He wanted his own voice, his own expression. Orli thought he just liked to hear himself.

She activated the transmission and saw his face: the dark hair, the faint crow's-feet around his eyes, the pale blue gaze that she had once found so riveting, especially when they sat across the table from each other and discussed compy problems. Now, he looked tired, his expression haggard.

When he sent messages, Matthew did not use endearments. He had never been the romantic sort, and Orli had learned not to expect that of him. He had recorded this message some days ago and managed to avert his eyes so that he wasn't looking at Orli on the screen. He seemed troubled.

"Orli," he said as if addressing a business correspondent, "I'll be back at Relleker in a week. We ... we need to talk."

Compies would never identify nuanced expressions or tonalities, but Orli heard something in Matthew's voice, and she was already convinced she wouldn't like what he had to say.

CHAPTER.

25.

TOM ROM.

Heading toward the empty Klikiss city and into the gathering darkness, Tom Rom went far from the camp and lay on the ground, staring up at the stars. He felt safe in the open aloneness, wearing the armor of his own confidence.

The sketchy records he had found about Eljiid made no mention of dangerous nocturnal predators. He wasn't worried. Tom Rom was never worried. He had taught himself to sleep lightly, and he always awoke feeling rested, and ready.

When the dawn washed over him, he rose to see the distorted alien towers that looked like pockmarked termite mounds. The nearby Klikiss city was empty, but he knew many insectoid bodies remained inside, preserved where they had fallen after the end of the last swarming. He had his autopsy kit and specimen containers. He would find what Zoe Alakis wanted.

During his trip to the transportal nexus at Rheindic Co, Tom Rom had studied all public information, as well as three classified reports, on Klikiss physiology. Dissections of the various Klikiss castes had already been done; one report was so detailed it was called An Atlas of the Klikiss Body, but the work was merely documentary-images, measurements, some limited chemical analysis-without any insightful conclusions. From the images, he had identified the "royal jelly" gland that Zoe wanted to investigate. None of the other scientists had even postulated what purpose the organ might have served.

In preparation for this mission, Tom Rom had also worked his way through the complex and confusing tome, The Song of the Breedex, which gave insight into the culture and history of the violent insect race, but he found it irrelevant. He only wanted to harvest what Zoe needed.

Brushing himself off from where he had slept, he took a sip of tepid water from his pack, ate a flavorless nutrient bar, and shouldered the pack. He had brought cutting tools, gloves, and a sterile mask-just in case. If he worked efficiently, he could be gone from Eljiid in a day. Zoe would be waiting for him.

As dawn brightened, he made his way through long shadows into the alien metropolis and searched for one of the ground-level doors. There were numerous openings at other levels, out of reach. He left spots of marker paint along his path, not wanting to get lost inside the hive labyrinth. The structures seemed similar to other Klikiss ruins, and Tom Rom was confident he could find his way. Locating a door, he entered.

The walls were made of a resinous cement, covered with spidery writing and complex symbols that extended out in shattered angles-Klikiss math and scientific principles. The powdery air smelled stale. This environment would have mummified the fallen insect bodies, preserving organs inside their exoskeletons.

All he needed was to find some cadavers.

He wandered through the empty insect city, following the curved tunnels, climbing up ramps. Finally, in a large open chamber, he found twenty alien bodies. The Klikiss drones looked like three-meter-high cockroaches with plated abdomens, multiple-segmented arms, flat heads. Each Klikiss caste had the soft thorax organ that would be filled with the glandular royal jelly.

Alone in the chamber, Tom Rom set up his lights, unrolled his pack, put on his gloves and mask, then withdrew his tools: a wide-bladed knife, a narrow hatchet if the exoskeleton proved too tough, jawlike spreaders, and tongs. Tipping up the head of the first drone, he cracked open the thorax. From the dissection records, he knew approximately where to find the gland. With gloved fingers, he dug around in the soft gelatinous tissue, but he was too clumsy with the first specimen. He ruptured the gland, mangling the job so that the thick, nearly hardened jelly oozed out. Contaminated, useless for Zoe's purposes.

But there were other bodies to choose from. He exercised greater care with the next cadaver. After cracking the shell with the point of his knife, he used the spreader to open it wider. Using the tongs to move tissue aside, he exposed the gland at the base of the creature's throat.

It was spongy and misshapen, gray-green in color, a swollen pustule filled with half-crystallized liquid. Taking care not to puncture the membrane, he snipped out the gland-intact-and placed it in a specimen container.

Technically, that was all Zoe needed to run her tests, but since there were numerous other Klikiss bodies lying here for the taking, he decided to increase his sample size. This would give the Pergamus researchers much more to work with. Also, if the royal jelly did prove to have exceptional health properties, Zoe would want to have more of it.

Practiced now, he cracked open another thorax, extracted the gland, and added it to the specimen container. He discarded the mangled Klikiss body and worked on the next one, and the next. In less than an hour, he filled three large specimen containers, sealed each one, and sterilized the exteriors. His gloves and sleeves were covered with ichor and slime, but his breathing mask remained seated in place. Only two more drone bodies left to harvest.

From the chamber doorway, he heard a loud, disgusted gasp. The disheveled-looking Mr. Bolam stood wide-eyed, as if ready to vomit. "What the hell are you doing? Those are specimens, protected by a Confederation Act. You can't just-"

Tom Rom carefully stripped off his gloves and tossed them aside. He applied a sterilizing gel to his skin, just in case he had been exposed to any fluids. "Do you think the Klikiss care? Or are you one of those who believes the bodies are still alive and just hibernating?" All around him, the harvested Klikiss bodies lay sprawled in oozing pools. Even through his mask he could smell an odd, putrid odor that wafted up from the cracked insect shells.

"I don't give a shit about the bodies-but you're not allowed to do that." Bolam looked indignant.

As Tom Rom talked, he continued packing away the specimen containers. "It's important work."

"But what is it for? Why would you do this?" The man narrowed his eyes, lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is there some profitable substance in the bodies?"

"My employer has reason to believe that there may be some medical potential in the royal jelly excreted by these Klikiss glands." Tom Rom sealed his pack, then opened the kit to remove a needle-tipped thimble. "It could be a miracle cure, could be a drug. We're going to do a thorough analysis. That's why we needed the samples."

He rummaged in his kit and found a vial filled with clear liquid. He removed the cap and dripped some of the fluid onto the end of the thimble, making sure the fluid was evenly distributed.

Bolam was incensed at being treated as irrelevant. "I can't just let you walk in here and do this. I'll need to file a report. If you suspect there's some medical use to the Klikiss bodies, then we'll set up a research team, investigate it thoroughly."

Tom Rom shouldered his pack, adjusted the straps, and stepped up to the still-babbling Bolam. With a flick of his finger, he scratched the man on the neck.

Bolam recoiled. "What the hell?" He swatted at Tom Rom, who easily dodged the man's flailing hands. "I'm going to have you held until we can bring in the authorities."

Finishing his business, Tom Rom removed the thimble from his finger and slid it back into a pocket in his kit. He paid no attention to Bolam, who continued to grow more outraged by his attitude.

The camp administrator touched the scratch on his neck, and his face began to swell. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish's. He choked, his eyes bulged. White boils appeared on his skin. He wheezed, but could not draw a breath. His hands swelled, and more boils appeared along his arms. He began to drool down the side of his chin, which Tom Rom found disgusting.

"My employer wants this matter kept confidential," he explained, though it served no purpose. "If the royal jelly is successful, she intends to obtain a large stockpile without competitors knowing about it. If the glands prove to have no use, then it doesn't matter."

Bolam dropped to the floor, writhing. He took longer to die than Tom Rom expected, but the fatal allergic reaction could not be measured precisely. Removing a small antigrav handle from his pack, he strapped it to the body, then lifted the dead man like a lightweight package and carried him out through the Klikiss corridors.

He encountered none of the camp's other archaeological teams as he carried Bolam out, found a thicket of the tortured Whistler cacti. Several species of Eljiid cacti were known to have alkaloid poison, to which some people were prone to extreme reactions. He dumped Bolam's body next to the thicket, where the long spines left more scratches on his skin.

Finished with his work, Tom Rom made his way back to the camp. As he grew closer, he feigned a panicked expression. "I found Mr. Bolam by the Whistler thicket outside the ruins!" he cried. "I think he's dead-looks like anaphylactic shock. It was horrible."

Several researchers gaped at him from their tents and tables, before grabbing first-aid kits. Tom Rom called as they rushed off, "Maybe you can save him, I don't know."

He returned to the Klikiss transportal and stood before the tall stone window. Its flat opaque surface showed nothing until he activated the coordinate tile for the Rheindic Co nexus. The solid surface shimmered and formed a doorway, and he stepped through.

Another successful mission. Zoe Alakis would be pleased.

CHAPTER.