"No, don't 'Josh' me. Listen for a moment, you little bull-head. You always were the stubbornest d.a.m.n kid! As soon as Mom or Dad said no, you were bound and determined to do it anyway. This isn't a game, Myali. It's the life or death of Kensho!"

She closed her eyes wearily. "And mine, too, Josh."

"I know. I just said that! That's why I want to at least know why. You must have a reason, a purpose, to risk your life."

"Josh," she said gently, "I don't have to have a purpose to serve a purpose."He stared at her, speechless.

"Brother, I love you and I know you love me. So why can't you just accept the idea that I might want to do something important, really important, with my life? Something better and more meaningful man just Wandering around trying to find answers to questions I can't even intelligently ask myself."

"d.a.m.n it, Josh, I've been miserable for a long time now. Lost, unsure, confused, sick at heart and not too d.a.m.n stable in mind. Now I have a chance to resolve everything, to find out who and what I really am. Maybe even to answer my questions, or at least come to understand what they are. If all I have to risk is dying, it's well worth it to me. Because I've been dying slowly for quite a while."

"Oh, I'm not doing this strictly for myself. Or even for reasons I can explain. Part of it's tied up in my love for you and Mom and Dad and Father Kadir and Mother Ilia and the whole planet of Kensho. Part of it's tied up with something bigger than all that, something so big I can't even think about it, much less name it."

"Let it be, Josh. I 'm going to do it. Love me for it."

He bowed his head. When he raised his eyes to hers again, they were filled with tears. "I do, little sister, I do. d.a.m.n, you haven't got freckles any more. But you're still the same kid!" He laughed and shook his whole body, shaking away the sadness like a dog shakes away water.

With a conspiratorial grin he leaned toward her and said in a stage whisper, "Don't tell anybody, but I think I know how to make the network reach that far. At least once a day, in any case. And I'm experimenting on a method of s.n.a.t.c.hing that'll whisk you right back here at the first sign of danger."

"Good," she grinned back. "Can I come home for dinner now and then?"

Josh chuckled appreciatively, then was silent, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "Well. Guess maybe I ought to get back to work organizing the teams for sighting the shuttle. Most of them are in place, but there are still a few blank spots. So ... guess you've got things to do to get ready. Well, think I'll go now." He started to turn away, then suddenly spun back around and grabbed her in his arms, hugging her fiercely. "You take care now, little sister. Do you hear? And come back." With a barely suppressed sob, he twisted away and ran down the hill.

Myali tried to watch him go, but the tears kept clouding her vision. When she couldn't see him anymore, she sat down and cried for a long time.

The sky was very, very blue.

PART TWO.

We dance round in a ring and suppose, But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.

-Robert Frost.

VII.

It felt like someone was in his head, kicking the backs of his eyeb.a.l.l.s. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the folds of his sleeve.

This is only temporary, his conditioning whispered. It is the inevitable result of adjustment and overlay. So is initial confusion, until the new personality structure and the overlaid memories become a coherent whole.

Cautiously he turned over on his back again and opened his eyes just the tiniest bit. Strange moving shadows, dapplings of faraway light, hints of blue and brown and green. As the pain began to ebb, he opened his eyes wider. Tree, his memory supplied. In particular, a ko tree.

He raised himself on one elbow, gazing around dully at a blue-green riot of growing. Trees, bushes, all kinds of plants crowded his field of vision. Forest, his memory coached. Planetside, his conditioning warned. Planetside among the enemy.

With a grunt of pain, he came to a sitting position and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. No great danger, his memory rea.s.sured once the swirl of pain and nausea brought on by his movement hadebbed. The forest is fairly safe. Be cautious, always be cautious, his conditioning countered. A spy must a.s.sume every man is his enemy.

Vulnerable, he thought. In pain. Sitting, weak and sick, against a tree trunk in the middle of a forest.

Bad. Dangerous. He tried to get to his feet, but the agony in his head forced him to his knees.

He groaned. Something's wrong. Too much pain. This is only temporary, his conditioning repeated. It is the inevitable result of... Stuff it! he cried to himself. Can it! d.a.m.n it, it hurts! Enough plat.i.tudes and rea.s.surances. When the h.e.l.l will the pain stop? I'm in danger if I can't even stand up.

Not really, his memory soothed. There are a few dangerous animals in the forest, but not many. It's such a beautiful place. Just look around.

He did. The trees soared over his head to form a canopy some forty feet or more above. Sunlight slipped through here and there to splash against the trunks and occasionally spatter itself across the undergrowth. Not much of it reached the ground. The very air itself seemed blue-green and thick with the presence of all the leafy life that surrounded him.

He lurched up to a standing position. Something about all this growing, all this fecund greenish-blueness frightened him, stirring black things that lay deep, deep, forgotten or repressed within him. Fear? Is it fear? he wondered, looking around once more. Or is it longing? Not a productive line of reasoning, his conditioning interrupted. It is time for personality integration exercises.

He nodded and, with a sigh, leaned against the tree trunk. Ko tree, he reminded himself. Ko pods are good to eat. Sort of a cross between fruit and nut. Very high in nutritional value. No weird proteins to mess up the human system.

Exercises. First, mission: to proceed from drop to the a.s.signed destination, known planetside as First Touch. This seemed to be the most important objective available on this rather dispersed world. The Way-Farer was there and it appeared to be the governing center. Or at least the Council met there. No, that didn't seem right. His memory didn't indicate the Council really governed. Coordinate? Yes, that was a better word. But that made no sense. He felt the headache coming back with a vengeance and shifted his focus to another topic.

Mission: Proceed to First Touch. Gather information on state of preparedness of planetary defenses (What defenses? his memory wondered.) Evaluate extent and character of possible resistance to a landing. Identify key leaders, especially those whose removal might cause a disruption in the functioning of government. (Government? queried his memory. He told it to be quiet.) If, as preliminary a.n.a.lysis indicates, the Way-Farer is indeed head of planetary government, a.s.sa.s.sinate him. (Kill Kadir? His memory recoiled in horror at the thought.) Sudden pain throbbed through his head. He groaned and sagged against the tree trunk.

For several moments he hung there, breathing raggedly in agony. If the Way-Farer is that well loved, his conditioning coldly calculated, his death might have very satisfying negative effects on the enemy's morale. Move a.s.sa.s.sination from Three Priority to Two Priority, Tentative, subject to further evaluation.

It is now time to leave the clearing, the conditioning instructed, and begin ...

His eyes snapped open. Hold it! he cried silently. Clearing? Ignoring the surge of pain, he concentrated hard. Clearing. I was landed in a clearing ...but I'm in the middle of the forest. He looked around wildly, circling the tree trunk so that he could stare off in all directions. Thick forest stared back with dark, formless eyes. Clearing, where's the G.o.dd.a.m.n clearing?

Calm, his conditioning advised. Do not panic. Evaluate. He took several deep breaths and sat down once more, his back to the tree trunk. First, he began, my conditioning says I was landed in a clearing.

Second, I'm not in a clearing and can't even see where one might be. Therefore, either I wasn't landed in a clearing or I was and I moved myself. The first alternative is possible. My conditioning was given before the landing. Perhaps some emergency came up and the drop spot had to be changed. But how could they have landed me here? Where would the drop vessel have found room to maneuver?

No. No, I couldn't have landed here. Which means I landed in a clearing and then moved here on my own. d.a.m.n. Don't remember a thing. But then, it's possible I was so confused by the hasty adjustment and overlay that I moved without realizing it.

Or somebody moved me.That idea shook him to his very core. Someone moved me. Who? A drop vessel only contains one person, the drop. I 'm the only one of my people planet-side. Who moved me?

And why?

The spy shuddered, then gasped as the pain lanced through his head, stabbing his eyeb.a.l.l.s from behind. He felt a bitter panic rising in his throat. His tongue reached back into his mouth for the right top rear molar. Only in case of emergency, his conditioning commanded. f.u.c.k you, he retorted, his fear welling up. f.u.c.k you! He pushed the tooth.

Command, came the immediate voice in his head.

Location fix, he subvocalized.

There was a pause, then an answer. About twenty-three kilometers southwest of drop. What the h.e.l.l are you doing? Objective was due north of drop.

Uh, sorry. I seem to have walked in my sleep.

Don't get wise. Get moving.

Aye, aye. Over and out.

And don't get lost again. Use your compa.s.s and the recon map. And don't use this channel except in emergency. They might be listening. Over and out.

The spy grunted and shut his eyes against the throbbing. How long, he wondered, how long since drop? s.h.i.t, I forgot to ask.

He took several deep breaths. The pain began to recede a little. With the fingertips of each hand, he gently ma.s.saged his forehead and temples. Better, he thought. Not great, but better. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders and neck begin to relax. Contact with Command, with his own people, had calmed him, made him more sure of himself. n.o.body moved me, he decided. I moved myself. n.o.body knows I'm here except me and Command. n.o.body's hiding out there in all that green, watching, waiting ...

He closed down his thoughts abruptly and stood. Get walking, he told himself. Get moving. Fumbling in the pocket of his robe, his fingers found the round disk of his compa.s.s and the rectangle of the folded map. A glance at the map and a quick compa.s.s reading were enough to get him started. Got to get going, he thought again. North northeast is good enough for now. I'll figure out a more exact course later when my mind's a little clearer. He picked up the pack that lay next to the tree trunk and shrugged it on. With a last look around, he set off.

Something's wrong.

While we were moving him from the clearing where They dumped him, I probed his mind.

He's not a unit. I mean, it's as if there are three in the same mind. First, there's someone he knows as the spy. Pretty simple, that one. Just a set of rules, commands, a basic personality profile, decidedly on the paranoid side. It really isn't enough to qualify as a true person. More like an outline.

Second, there's a whole bunch of confused memories, definitely Myali's. But they're strange.

Lots of gaps. It almost seems like she held back certain things on purpose.

Finally, there's something else in that mind. It's deep, way below the conscious level. Very basic.

Interesting, Josh. What do you think we should do?

Darned if I know. Just continue with the plan, I suppose.

Agreed. Stay with him.

Right, Father. I'll call if anything interesting happens.

Trees. G.o.dd.a.m.n trees everywhere. And bushes. No real landmarks anywhere. He looked down atthe compa.s.s he held open in his palm. North northeast. That should do it. Just keep on this heading.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his left eye. He spun to face that direction, his hand moving to his pocket and his weapon. s.h.i.t! Nothing. Or at least nothing now. Something had moved. He was sure of it.

Nervously looking over his shoulder, he began to walk again. Each time his feet touched the ground, a surge of pain swept through his head. d.a.m.n! d.a.m.n them and their quick and dirty integration job!

b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. The nausea came again in a wave. Unable to control it, he stumbled to a tree and sagged there while he heaved up his stomach. Each spasm was matched by an agony behind his eyes.

Empty and weak, he slumped to the ground at the base of the tree. s.h.i.t. Oh, s.h.i.t, I've got to pull myself together. Can't go on like this. Anybody catches me this way, I'm done. He glanced fearfully at the green walls that surrounded him. Could be any number of them out there. Watching. Waiting. He planted his back more firmly against the tree trunk, happy that at least one part of him was protected.

Got to get it together. Let's see. I'm a spy. Here on ... Kensho, that's it ... to gather information.

Maybe to kill the ... Way-Farer, then. He touched the laser wand in his pocket.

Good. Now my cover. I'm Wandering. Right. And my name is ... is ...He felt something deep inside his mind stir. My name is ...It moved in the silence of utter darkness, locked and barred from all light. My name is ... A serpent of memory, uncoiling and shifting, retreating into the dark. He yearned for it.

Reached out to catch it before it disappeared. My name is ...He stretched and grabbed and ...

Dunn! An incredible flash of pain blinded him and left him gasping, just at the edge of consciousness.

The darkness surged up and threatened to overwhelm him.

He fought back and slowly, slowly the blackness receded and the pain ebbed. He heard the name echoing, echoing ... DUNN ... Dunn ... dunn ...

"Dunn," he said hoa.r.s.ely, almost startled by the sound of his own voice. "I'm Dunn." Yes, the name felt right on his lips. And it seemed full of significance. Behind it, trailing off into the blackness it had almost escaped to, were threads of meaning. He shuddered. The darkness frightened him and he turned away.

"All right," he muttered, "I'm Dunn. Whoever he is. It sure as h.e.l.l wasn't an easy name to come by, so I'll keep it."

"Dunn," he said in a slightly louder voice, speaking to the trees and bushes. "I'm Dunn, Forest. I shouldn't be here. Sorry, But somehow I seem to have lost my clearing. I..." His monologue trailed off to an indistinct mumble. Stupid, he reprimanded himself. Talking to the G.o.dd.a.m.n trees. Get it together!

Concentrating, he began to conduct the series of integration exercises necessary to give his spy personality complete access to the memories they had transferred to his mind from the captured native.

There was a regular procedure to follow, one that would give him control, one that would ...

She watched the little lizard dart about the cage Josh had built for it. It was a beautiful cage, woven from the springy reeds that grew at the edge of the marsh to the north of their home.

"Will it sing?" she asked.

"Huh? Sing? Yeh, sure, sis. It'll sing. Once it gets used to being in the cage. Sure. It'll sing just like it did before."

"Even in your room it'll sing?"

"Uh-huh. Even in my room. Every morning it'll wake me up, chirping like they do just as the sun comes over the horizon. And it'll sing that long warbling note at high noon. At dusk, it'll make that hollow whistling sound they all make. Even in my room."

"Why's it sing, Josh?"

"Why? Uh ... well, I heard one of the Keepers at the 'hood say it's the way they tell others to keep out of their territory. It's kind of a warning."

"But why is it so happy in the morning and so sad at night? And why does it have to sing to warn other lizards? Why not just croak?"

Exasperated, Josh shook his head. "I don't know, sis. Why don't you ask a Keeper? Hey, I got things to do." And he walked away.

Myali stayed there, watching the lizard. After hopping all over the cage, looking for a way out, thecreature climbed to one of the perches Josh had included in the structure, and sat, staring back at her. Its bright, unwavering gaze disturbed her for some unknowable reason. Finally, she turned her eyes aside and whispered, "Sing, little lizard, sing."

The tiny gray-green creature made no response except to shift its weight and turn its head to follow the flight of an insect that was buzzing around the top of the cage.

Every day for a week, Myali went and sat by the cage for a couple of hours, just watching the lizard.

It never sang. It was silent in the morning, at noon, and at dusk. All day long it jumped around the cage, catching any insect foolish enough to come within its reach and devouring it with relish. Occasionally it would sit still for a few moments returning her stare with its dark, shiny little eyes, head c.o.c.ked to one side as if listening for something.

"It doesn't sing," she told Josh.

"It will," he replied. "Just give it time."

"But if it sings to warn the other lizards to stay out of its territory, it won't sing, 'cause it doesn't have a territory any more. It just has a cage."