Osteva takes the Captain's hand. "You've been awake longer than I have. Can't you take a break?"

Mal Arin stands, and hands his rolled terminal like a baton to our second-in-command. "Kiryl, you're in charge. Genetics has top priority." Together, he and Osteva walk to the dropshaft.

Just before they step off the mid-deck, Zakodny whispers, "Suppose the Twilight Dancers don't want to come home with us?"

Her comment goes unanswered.

In the body of a Human operative, my sister and I are on Metaneira with Zakodny, Ximu Qin and Borinat t'Lemest, a Metrinaire economist who has offered his services to the biology section. We have spent the long morning studying beachfront ecology, and now are resting in warm air as we wait for Fadil Tormity to retrieve us. A few robots are in attendance, and one was thoughtful enough to bring simple food for our picnic.

"I can't support the notion," Zakodny says. "The Twilight Dancers have a history that spans eons- longer than even the Hlutr. All they want is to stay on Metaneira and live out their lives in peace. We don't have the right to drag them back to the Scattered Worlds, or to set up research stations so we can study them and learn how to exploit their abilities. They've been gracious enough to us already, giving us free run of their planet while we're here."

Borinat crosses his three legs and reclines on warm sand. "I don't think Madame Osteva has put herself in the place of our hosts. I've noticed that empathy is not her strongest quality."

"Don't blame her too much, friend. She's planet-born, remember."

"Your pardon I beg," says Ximu Qin. Somehow the short Daamin has managed to retain her dignity even though sand adheres to her fur in patches and her left leg is drenched. "I understand not what you have said."

Zakodny laughs gently. "I'm sorry, nui tarysh." She uses the Coruman honorific quite naturally. "I shouldn't have used the term without explanation."

My sister surprises me by saying, "May I attempt to explain, Madame Zakodny? Then we will know if we understand the concept as well."

"Please do."

"Ximu Qin, the Human race is really two races- those who were bred in s.p.a.ce settlements and colonies, and those who were raised on planets. Only a scholar of Humanity comprehend this distinction, of which Humans themselves are only unconsciously aware. s.p.a.cers, on average, are more civilized than the planet-born."

Zakodny frowns. "I don't know if I'd put it that strongly."

"Humans have not been the main thrust of my study. What is the purpose of such distinction?" Ximu Qin questions.

My sister answers at once, "It is a matter of evolutionary process, not of social forces. The distinction is quite simple, my friend. Small settlements in orbit are much more vulnerable than planets. Their smaller ecology and constrained sociology are much more threatened by an individual's uncontrolled aggressiveness. These individuals must either be removed or eliminated, else the settlement will fail and all will die. Humans have lived in such settlements for nearly half a thousand generations. Evolutionary change is inevitable. To a lesser degree, the Metrinaire have done the same."

"Are you saying," Zakodny asks, "That we Humans have been breeding out our own aggressiveness?"

"Not at all. Merely that uncontrolled aggression is vanishing from your species, as more and more of you are descended from s.p.a.cers."

"I'll admit that there's a social distinction between s.p.a.cers and the planet-born...but that's cultural, nothing more."

"How long has it been, Tila Zakodny, since Humanity's last large-scale war?"

"Two...no...three thousand years. A little more. But the Empire...."

"Is a consequence, not a cause. Your population has remained steady at twenty-four trillion for two millennia- s.p.a.cers do not reproduce themselves with the abandon of the planet-born. Scholars among the Free Peoples estimate that your folk are now one-third s.p.a.cer...and that fraction is increasing as more of the planet-born move to settlements."

Ximu Qin is satisfied. "We have watched similar progressions with other races...the Iaranori, the people of Aveth.e.l.l, even the Dorascans and the Kreen."

"In the terms of the Scattered Worlds, Zakodny, your people are becoming more mature."

My sister is right; for Human millennia the Hlutr have known these facts and have debated them. Still the question remains: how best to help Mankind reach true maturity? Should we accelerate the change, as we have with other races...or do as my sister believes, and allow it to proceed at its own rate in the hope that it will result in a different kind of maturity?

Zakodny shakes her head. "Whether or not that's true, the fact remains that the planet-born have a different culture than s.p.a.cers. And that's why Osteva sometimes doesn't seem too empathic. However, that shouldn't stop us from opposing what she wants to do to the Twilight Dancers."

"I imagine the Captain will take a vote of the crew," Borinat says.

"I'm not so sure. It would be a nova in his sky for sure, to return to Ptyra with a discovery like this. He's young yet, with his whole career resting on this voyage." Zakodny blushes and briefly turns her face away: in her swirling emotions my sister and I read deeper feelings. Mal Arin is the same age she was, when she won her first Imperial Science Medal. In our Captain, she sees herself...and she understands all too well the pressures that act on him. "Akademii de Savoire and the Emperess gave him full authority over the ship; maybe he'll decide that the final judgement is his."

"Then we must hope," says Borinat, "That he will judge correctly."

Just then a great wave comes far up the beach, and we all forget ourselves in laughing and scrambling for higher ground. We are barely dry when Fadil Tormity's ship appears from nowhere and makes a gentle landing on the beach near us.

The robots gather equipment, and just before we step onto the ship Ximu Qin stops for a last glance at the ocean. "Tell me," she asks, "What is Captain Mal Arin? Be he planet-born, or s.p.a.cer?"

"s.p.a.cer," answers Zakodny.

"Then perhaps all will be well."

We are aboard the ship, and very gently my sister and I withdraw our presence from our operative. There is much else to do....

Virgo Mariner spins in polar orbit high above Metaneira, and on the mid-decks there is a council of the Free Peoples of the Scattered Worlds.

We are few: two Hlutr, three Daamin, four Iaranori, three Aveth.e.l.lans, sixteen Kreen and a Dorascan. The Metrinaire and Dogs, subjects of the Second Terran Empire, are not strictly part of the Free Peoples, so they are excluded from our council. Fadil Tormity, as a Galactic Rider, is welcome and sits slightly apart from the others. We Hlutr have curtained the area; none will feel any desire to enter until we are done.

"Osteva Rul has spoken her intent, that we unto the Scattered Worlds return and that we bear some Twilight Dancers there." Doctor na-Pekah, who has no definite opinion on anything smaller than a large globular cl.u.s.ter, has agreed to act as an impartial moderator. "She wishes to establish on this globe a research station and to send her folk to study and exploit the Dancers' power. We here are met to now discuss this plan."

Tigath delv Napitsha, one of our Aveth.e.l.lan telepaths, speaks first. "The Peoples of the Scattered Worlds would gain in knowledge from Osteva Rul's research. Yet more than information do we win: with those abilities the Dancers have, we may yet break the awful power of the Gathered Worlds and free our sundered brethren from that tyranny which holds them slaved within the Galactic Core."

The Kreen speak with one voice. "We can do nought but listen and agree. The Curtain that the Hlutr once did weave around the Gathered Worlds has stood for more than twice six hundred million Human years. Only in the reign of Aveth.e.l.l was that fair Curtain parted for a time. The struggle to bring freedom to the Core demands that we must use what tools we can. Within the Dancers' genes is such a tool."

Wu Plenr rises, his eyes blank as he speaks from the distance of the Daamin Forever Dreams. "Not just the tyranny of Gathered Worlds is in consideration here today. The Twilight Dancers have achieved a thing which is beyond our poor imaginings. Genetics plus the wisdom they have gained, have led their folk to great enlightenment. If we can have their knowledge for our own, our possibilities are limitless."

I feel that I cannot listen any more, and I long to cast my mind loose on the waves of the Inner Voice, to seek the concert of souls that dance below. How arrogant these animals...all of whom we raised from nothing. Now we have found the Hlutr ancestors themselves, and all these animals can imagine is to steal the secrets of these wise ones.

My sister tempers my anger.

(Wait, brother. Listen to the others. Let the Galactic Riders speak.) Mondappen, the ancient Iaranori who is the Scattered Worlds' most senior Galactic Rider, struggles to his feet. His voice is faint, yet all are transfixed by its power. "All must alone by conscience guide themselves. Yet those who speak of freedom do not seem to understand the concept that they praise. The Twilight Dancers do not wish to leave the home to which at last they have retired. They chose to keep their secrets to themselves. We do not have the right to steal from them, nor to disturb their contemplative rest, no matter what potential gain we see."

"So you would have us leave at once, my friend?"

"I do not seek to make your mind for you. I beg you to recall the creed which rules Galactic Riders and Free Peoples both: Instruct and guide and cherish as ye may, but never shall Galactic Rider force."

I can no longer contain myself; my leaves and limbs tremble, faster than any but the Kreen can follow, and my words fill the mid-deck. At the same time, I project a sharp annoyance through the Inner Voice.

"You speak of many things beyond your ken. Do you suppose the Hlutr have not sought to build the powers that you envy so? Do you suppose your races are prepared to deal with such abilities as these? You speak of opening the Curtained Core, of seeking paths of bright enlightenment. And yet, Wu Plenr, even you do not yet comprehend the nature of these tasks. Still less our Human brothers understand. Would you bestow abilities that dwarf the Hlutr skills on Terra's wayward sons?"

My sister speaks before any other can say a word...and she speaks in the Human tongue which we all understand. "Mondappen is right. This decision is not ours to make. We all joined this mission agreed that Mal Arin was the final authority. He will decide; we can only offer counsel."

Wu Plenr stands again. "The Council of the Free will always be the final judge within the Scattered Worlds."

"My friend, we are not within the Scattered Worlds. If our Captain decides to take the Twilight Dancers hence, then let the Council make a judgement."

Mondappen closes his eyes. "The counsel of the Hlutr is a gift that no one wise would ever dare refuse- yet would you have us trust this matter to the judgement of a simple Human child?"

"This Human 'child', my friends, has brought us to the Twilight Dancers when none, not even grand Aveth.e.l.l, dared to journey so far. Can we trust him on one matter, then withdraw our trust on the other? I propose that the Free Peoples should remain silent unless asked; that we allow Mal Arin to make up his own mind in his own time. Then if it is decided by the Council of the Free Peoples that reprisals should take place, let them."

Doctor na-Pekah raises a limb. "I ask for the consensus of the hall."

Each speaks, then, and when it is over my sister has won. The Free Peoples will wait for Mal Arin's decision.

If Mal Arin decides wrong, Sister, and the Council rules against him- we Hlutr may be asked to hurry our efforts to bring his people to maturity. Humans will be dangerous, not only to themselves and the Free Peoples but to the Hlutr. The Eldest might agree.

(Then you will have what you want, Brother.) You gamble much on a single man's decision.

(I gamble nothing, Brother.) I hope you are right....

When Song of the Eventide Wind asked to visit Virgo Mariner, the Captain immediately sent Fadil Tormity to bring him up. Now he stands before my sister and I, alone on the mid-decks, and we both rejoice to meet him in the flesh for the first time.

Already we have learned more about the ecology and genetics of the Twilight Dancers than our Human friends will learn in a dozen of their years.

If they have that long.

Song of the Eventide Wind sings to us in the Inner Voice, his song pitched so that not even the Aveth.e.l.lan telepaths can detect it. My sister and I must strain to take meaning from his unfamiliar song. As he sings, his people sing with him, so the song is fathomless as deep s.p.a.ce itself. Their minds have depths that even we Hlutr cannot begin to touch.

Cousins, we know of the conflict that touches your vessel. The Human Zakodny has told us what is going on...and the Human Osteva has asked some of us to accompany your ship back to its home. We do not wish to do this thing.

Our Captain must decide, my sister answers. So we have agreed.

We will not leave Metaneira. But if this ship does not return to its home, the Humans will send others. Even if the Humans agree to only leave a research team behind, more ships will come. We will not have our contemplation disturbed thus.

Yet you have borne our presence this long. You opened Metaneira to us in the beginning. Surely your could have hidden so expertly that we would have concluded this galaxy lifeless.

The Twilight Dancer bows. Indeed. We chose to let you find us. We chose to allow you onto our world. It is not fitting that you should go in ignorance of your true origins. He straightens, and his Inner Voice is like voice of the ocean. Now it must stop.

Cousin...you must speak to Mal Arin. Tell him what you tell us.

No. Gladly will we converse with you, for although you are children, your folk are the closest thing we have found to ourselves. The other races, whom you call Little Ones- they are too distant, too different. Mal Arin will perceive what we say as a threat...and he will answer that threat as all animals answer.

Perhaps you misjudge him.

Perhaps you do. Nevertheless, be a.s.sured that we will not hesitate to eliminate such minor irritants if they disturb us too far. We do not wish to do so, yet we will. His tone bears no menace, simply a statement of fact.

We shall do what we can, Song of the Eventide Wind.

Then you have our thanks. Sing with us, now, for we have not joined your folk in concert since before the Schism of the Hlutr one and a half eons ago. Soon you must go, and the distance to your home is too great for our song to cross.

We sing, then, and the music of the Twilight Dancers is far more beautiful than the vast Song of the Hlutr. It is wisdom, it is life, it is joy incarnate. While the song lasts, we are fulfilled- all our questions answered, all our dreams made real. The Twilight Dancers have conquered death and decay, have taken the very form of life into their hands and shaped it according to their will.

They are greater than Humans can ever begin to imagine, greater than Hlutr can even hope to be. Their childhood is finally over, and now they wait on their eternal worlds circling eternal stars, taking the first steps on the road to an adulthood we can only glimpse.

The song ends, and I ache for its loss.

Goodbye, cousins. I wish you well in your own quest for maturity.

It is a long time before my sister and I can trust ourselves to speak.

Zakodny meets with Mal Arin the next morning, on the mid-decks after symposium is done. While robots clear away uneaten food, she fixes him with her clear, strong eyes.

"Captain, I've come to talk to you about Madame Rul's proposal."

"Sit down, Doctor."

"Please," she says, "Don't be so formal. I wish you'd grace me by calling me by name."

He frowns. "I'm sorry. I...I just can't forget that I'm talking to a woman who has won the Imperial Science Medal twice. Your work on the populations of Tralanek L5 was stunning."

"That's a good beginning," she says with a smile.

"What do you want to say about Osteva?"

"I think she's wrong. I don't think we should exploit the Twilight Dancers. I...I don't think her findings should be published, and I think we should leave soon." She lowers her head. "We've learned everything we're going to on this voyage. More than we ever thought we would. Let's give up now, and go home."

"Doctor Zakodny "

"Tila. Please."

"Tila, then. I've been wrestling with this decision. If the geneticists at Akademii de Savoire know what I refused to bring back to them, they'll have my innards on a plate."

"They don't need to know."

"Do you think Osteva will keep quiet? No, they'll know."

She considers this. "Then you'll have to go before the High Academy. Tell them why you made your decision. Convince them, and they'll censure Osteva. They won't approve any more expeditions."

"I went before the High Academy to convince them to give me this vessel. I don't know how well I'd fare against them again."

"I'll be with you. I know others of the crew who feel the same way."

"It may not come to that. a.s.suming that I decide to deny her proposal- and I haven't made that decision yet- Osteva knows that I could ruin her career. Maybe she'd keep quiet on her own." He sighs. "I just don't want to be forced to that."

"I know you love her."

"Then you know more than I do, Tila. I met Osteva when we attended seminars together at the University of Prakis. I kept in touch with her, and she was an obvious choice for geneticist when I was putting this crew together. She's brilliant, Doctor Zakodny, in her own way far more brilliant than I am."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Mal Arin. In thirty-six years you've done more than most scientists in a lifetime." She stands. "I have to get to my lab; I've left the poor computer running a population simulation, and it's probably halfway into the next eon. Think about what I said."

"I promise you, I will." He waits until she is gone, then settles back on his couch and lifts his eyes to my sister and I.

"I know you've been watching, and that you're concerned. I've heard from everyone else on board- what do the Hlutr think?"

I am ready to answer, but my sister restrains me. "The Hlutr," she says, "Think that Mal Arin must make up his own mind."