Dale hurried them along, eager to get away from Sendra. "We shouldn't delay. I let Father know we're coming, so he's waiting for us."

Garrison knew what that meant. "Then we'd better not keep him."

The clan leader's chambers had once belonged to the Roamer Speaker, back when this asteroid had been the heart of Rendezvous. Olaf Reeves sat behind his metal desk as if holding court. He did not get up to greet Garrison or Seth; he was too proud for that.

"It's the prodigal son." Even here in the small office, Olaf's voice was booming. "You're older now-and wiser, let's hope. You went off looking for Hansa happiness, when you should have been satisfied with Roamer happiness."

"I was looking for my own happiness, Father. I wanted to do what was right." But Olaf's words hit home. Elisa's definition of happiness-her goals, her success, her drive-had been very different from Garrison's desire for a fulfilled life, a strong family, close friends. That would have been enough for him, but it had never been enough for Elisa.

Olaf turned toward Seth. "And my grandson, quite a young man. We'll have a place for you among us. We just retrieved our clan children from Academ, so they can be taught in proper Roamer ways. We even brought a Teacher compy to help."

Seth brightened. "A compy?"

"We have five total now," Dale interrupted. "We made sure the fail-safe programming systems are in place."

Seth looked at his father, disappointed. "But I wanted to go to Academ."

"I'll still find a way for you to go there, don't worry," Garrison said.

"You don't need Academ." Olaf leaned forward, giving his grandson a warmer welcome. "The Teacher compy's name is BO. She knows a lot about Roamer history-you can join the other children in their independent classes. With us. You'll do well, I'm sure."

Garrison felt distinctly uncomfortable. "That wasn't my plan, Father. We're getting ahead of ourselves."

His father's bushy eyebrows drew together. "Yes, we are. I'm not surprised you spotted the dangers at Sheol, because you're smart and could see what was in front of your face. We hadn't heard that you got away ... thought you might have stayed with That Woman."

"I sounded the warning, but Lee Iswander didn't listen. Neither did Elisa."

Olaf made a disgusted sound. "That man's been Goose-headed for years, forgot he's a Roamer. We are best when we push the limits and survive by the skin of our teeth-that makes us grow, makes us strong."

Dale said, as if repeating a benediction, "A knife loses its edge unless it is sharpened."

When Garrison was in his father's presence, the big man seemed to consider Dale invisible. "Too many Roamers have gone soft on comfortable planets. The romance is gone. They lost something vital. That's why we're all pulling out-leaving Rendezvous and making a new home."

"Leaving Rendezvous? You invested everything here, insisted on clinging to this place even when everyone else pulled out and called you a stubborn fool. Where are you going to go?"

"Far away," Olaf said. "We're too close to the stink of Newstation, the Confederation, and all the things that weaken us. One of our clan scouts found an ancient city in space, probably millennia old. It was like a sign. No one's touched it. We'll make it our new home." He leaned forward to encompass both Garrison and Seth with his gaze. "Our home." He pretended to notice reports on his desk screen, then glanced at the chronometer on the wall. "I understand they're making repairs to your ship now? We'll find a place for you to settle in, figure out what your place will be with us."

Garrison held up his hands. "We haven't said we're going with you. Seth and I just came back for a visit, and to ask for a little help."

"That Woman gave you enough help. The wrong kind. Now it's time to come home, if you've learned your lesson."

Seth looked lost, and Garrison gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He remembered the opportunities he had missed while growing up because of his father's pigheadedness, and he would not inflict that upon his son. "No. We're not going with you to whatever isolated place you're taking the clan. Seth needs to grow up in the Confederation, to be part of the future, not part of the past. He's going to Academ where he can learn with Roamer children his own age."

A flush rose in Olaf's cheeks, and his voice became a growl, though it didn't get any louder. "You've already had a terrible lapse in judgment, Garrison. That Woman seduced you, corrupted you. You can be forgiven for making one major mistake, but you're about to make another one."

"I'm making a decision. Whether it's a mistake or not is something we can determine later. Seth and I won't be following you out to the middle of nowhere just because you're fed up with the Confederation and with other Roamers. Seth wants to study at Academ, and I think that's a good choice for him." Olaf snorted, but Garrison stood straight, feeling his face flush. In the years he'd been gone he had learned a lot about strength. "Did you give the other clan members the chance to make up their own minds? Or are you forcing them to go with you, because you know what's best for them all?"

"I do know what's best for them, so their choice is obvious."

"And the choice is obvious to me too. Seth and I will make our own way, build our own lives."

Olaf glowered. "Then let the consequences be on your own head."

This was exactly what Garrison had feared, and he'd expected nothing less. He also knew that argument was useless with Olaf Reeves.

Olaf glanced at his other son, as if just remembering Dale was there. "Tell Bjorn to get Garrison's ship fixed and fueled so he can be about his important business. The rest of clan Reeves has its own Guiding Star to follow."

CHAPTER.

39.

ORLI COVITZ.

Matthew had asked Orli to meet him at one of their favorite restaurants, a colorful high-end establishment built and run by Rlinda Kett. By long distance, he had made reservations and added a significant tip so they had their favorite table-the one Rlinda always guaranteed for them. That was a good sign, Orli told herself, and she clung to the thought as she got ready, even though she felt a distinct uneasiness about what her husband planned to say.

Matthew Freling wasn't a man who laughed often. He was serious and focused to the point of being preoccupied. Orli had fallen in love with his smile, but she couldn't recall any hearty laughter-that wasn't part of his personality. There had been no smiles in his recent message. He said he had something "important" to talk with her about. Not something "special." Not a "surprise."

In their apartment, Orli obsessed over which dress to wear. Expensive business attire? Something flirtatious to welcome him home after his long trip? Muted colors to acknowledge a serious occasion, or just a casual outfit to downplay any sort of concern she might have?

Finally, she asked DD for his advice. The Friendly compy lectured her about alternatives until she sighed and held up a hand for him to stop. "Make a random selection for me, DD. That'll do." He selected a maroon blouse over a pair of tailored black slacks made from merhsilk. Orli added a necklace of polished reef pearls from Rhejak-a gift from old Mr. Steinman, and more expensive than she liked to think about.

Orli was reluctant to wear anything with too much sentimental value. She and Matthew had weathered plenty of rough patches in their relationship, but they had worked through the serious ones, varnished over the pain, and didn't pick at the scabs, careful not to draw blood. In their marriage, they'd had five good years and five not-so-good years, with the issue of children being the primary thorn in their relationship.

"You seem sad, Orli," DD said.

"Maybe a little sad. Maybe a little worried. I don't know what Matthew has on his mind."

"Would you like me to transmit a message and ask him?"

She gave him a wan smile. "It's not that simple, DD. This is something we have to explore for ourselves."

"Oh, like a research project."

She gave DD a hug, then went off to Rlinda's restaurant.

She was on her second glass of wine by the time Matthew arrived. He was always five minutes late; Orli was used to that. His personal clock was irreparably off by the same amount. Tonight, though, he was fifteen minutes late, and that told Orli a great deal. He would have some mundane excuse-a shuttle was delayed, traffic was bad, or Orli must have gotten the time wrong.

He knew where to find their table. Seeing him come in, Orli raised her hand in a signal. With a brief nod, he came over to her.

At the beginning of their relationship, there had been warm greetings, happy kisses and hugs, but public displays of affection were not Matthew's habit. She initiated an embrace to make herself feel better. He kissed her on the lips, but to Orli it felt more like a misplaced peck on the cheek.

"Welcome home," she said. "How was your trip?"

Matthew seemed relieved to fall into a business conversation, rattling off a summary of his talks and presentations, remarking on which universities drew large audiences and which ones gave him a less-enthusiastic reception.

She knew the places he visited, knew the other researchers he talked about, knew the concerns and the high points of their work. Their passion about compies gave them so much in common that getting married had been the obvious, logical thing to do. Work partners and life partners.

When the waiter came, they ordered appetizers, their usual. The restaurant's excellent food represented a range of cultures and exotic flavors, traditional dishes from Theroc, the Roamer clans, and Earth. Rlinda's chef made a special platter of flaming buttery grubs from Theroc, which they particularly liked.

They had first tried the dish during dinner on their fifth anniversary-the last good anniversary. Matthew was squeamish, but Orli had eaten many disgusting things during desperate times on Dremen, Corribus, and other places. Rlinda had joined them for a few minutes during that anniversary meal, insisting that the appetizer was her favorite thing on the menu. So Orli and Matthew dared each other to eat the grubs, which were indeed as tasty as promised.

Now, however, Orli poked at them. The waiter raised his eyebrows knowingly, as if accustomed to patrons who ordered the grubs but couldn't find the nerve to eat them. Orli frowned and took one, swallowed it whole. When the waiter hovered to take their dinner order, she sent him away. "We're not ready yet." She turned to Matthew, got serious. "What is it you needed to talk about?"

He swallowed, and she saw his Adam's apple move up and down. He straightened in his chair, getting down to business, and his expression changed. His eyes grew distant, and she knew he was about to deliver words he had memorized and probably practiced again and again as he traveled back to Relleker.

"I had a surprise visitor after my lecture on New Portugal," he said.

She waited, and realization began to dawn. New Portugal had already raised her suspicions.

Matthew said, "Henna came to see me."

Though Orli knew it was coming, she couldn't stop her heart from skipping a beat. "I thought she promised not to see you. You promised you wouldn't."

He nodded. "That's how it was supposed to be."

The crisis had been only four months ago, when she discovered his affair with Henna Gann ... or maybe he had confessed it. The timing was murky in Orli's mind, and the argument had been so severe that the details were fractured and not something she wanted to recall.

It was a hard twist of the knife, coming so soon after their most recent fight about having children. When Orli learned of the affair, she was deeply hurt, but in a quiet corner of her heart she realized she had put up walls and added distance between them too. She had buried herself in her work, surrounded herself with her compies, sent Matthew away on his rigorous speaking schedule. Somehow, even with all those work commitments, Matthew found the time and energy to sleep with another woman.

Orli had been through ordeals before. She'd seen the slaughter of the Corribus colony, including her father, had been a captive of the Klikiss race, fended for herself while she was lost and starving. So, she put the hurt behind her, and they had worked it out. She and Matthew decided to give it another try.

The buttery grubs on the plate now gave off a nauseating smell. Orli couldn't tear her eyes from him. He had more to say.

"She told me something's changed," he said.

"How would you know, if you'd kept your promise not to see her again?"

"Henna came to me after my lecture. I didn't ask to see her. She was just there." He seemed about to unravel a long string of excuses and rationalizations, but he stopped himself, looked Orli in the eye. "She's pregnant. I didn't know. The affair was over, I swear to you-but now she's carrying my child." He clasped his hands together. "My child. That changes everything."

Orli felt as if someone had tripped her when she wasn't looking, knocked her facedown on the ground. Yes, that did change everything.

At the beginning of their relationship, Matthew had wanted children, but Orli convinced him to wait; later, when she was ready, Matthew had been preoccupied with his busy career. He said no, not yet. Without any sort of goal or time frame, the idea of a family kept vanishing beyond the horizon. And now ...

"Henna and I are going to have a baby," he repeated. From the look on his face, the hint of expression behind his eyes, she wondered if he expected her to leap for joy and congratulate him. She rose from the table and walked away.

He called after her, "I hope we can still work together."

She paused without turning, thought of several retorts, and dismissed them all. She kept walking.

When she got home Orli couldn't stop herself from crying. Tears rolled down her face, and she ran into their main living room where DD waited for her.

"How was your dinner?" he asked brightly. "How was Matthew?" Then even the childlike Friendly compy noticed that something was wrong. "Oh, Orli, I am so sorry."

She couldn't guess how he knew to say that, but she caught him up in an embrace and sobbed onto his polymer shoulder.

CHAPTER.

40.

GENERAL NALANI KEAH.

Within fifteen minutes, General Keah ran out of expletives. This was supposed to have been a routine patrol with the Ildirans, not even a surprise war-game exercise-and the ships had stumbled upon an infestation of black robots.

"Those bugbots should have been wiped out twenty years ago," Keah said. The beetle-like machines had caused incalculable damage to all sides in the Elemental War. "Let's finish this damn job-it'll increase my career satisfaction."

After seeing his exploration crew slaughtered on the screens, Adar Zan'nh's expression clouded like a storm as he called on his ships to retaliate. Keah had never seen the cool Ildiran commander so furious. She liked him this way.

Their ships reeled in the ferocious surprise attack from the frozen base, the bombardment of high-velocity ice projectiles, but General Keah could give as good as she got.

"Full jazer bursts, Mr. Patton. Fire up the railguns and use kinetic projectiles-hell, use harsh language! Pass the word to all ships in our battle group. Hit them with everything. And if we do this right, each crewmember gets a piece of bugbot shrapnel for a souvenir."

The moon's surface cracked and collapsed as implanted explosives blasted away the ice sheet to expose a half-dozen monstrous angular vessels that sent a chill down her spine. She leaned forward in the command chair. "I'd say that's an invitation for a full carpet bombing, Mr. Patton."

The weapons officer responded with a hard grin. "On it, General."

Six robot ships began to rise from their cold underground base, heaving up out of the curtains of steam and flash-melted ice. Gases boiled around the black vessels like a smoke screen.

She addressed the Solar Navy flagship. "We better hit them before they head off into space, Z. They're vulnerable now."

"That is my intention, General."

When she saw the heavy armor on the ships, Keah realized the bugbots must have been planning for defense and outright combat for some time. The massive vessels ascended from gaping craters blasted through the ice, and the first four headed out to open space. The Solar Navy warliners and CDF battleships closed in.

Their main targets were the last two robot ships, which were still rising from the crevasses. Concentrated bombardment damaged the fifth sufficiently that it barely managed to lift itself above the surface before it crashed down like a dying whale. The sixth fleeing ship exploded just as it cleared the ice.