"Wouldn't you like to know what all this is about?"

"Of course. I mean, I'm not sure who would authorize relaxing the restrictions."

"Kirchner was told we were no longer part of Earth's military strategy; we're on our own. Can't we assume the same is true politically?"

"We're our own masters, you mean."

"Exactly," Lanier said.

"That's a can of worms I don't even want to peek into right now."

"Well, I'll take responsibility for making one move, at least. The libraries are no longer closed. The information contained in them is available to everyone."

"Even the Russians?"

"Even the Russians, if they negotiate for peace with us," Lanier said. "I'll learn Russian, you straighten out the negotiating procedures and we'll offer them a share of all we have left."

"Kirchner won't like letting the bastards dock. And he certainly won't like making concessions."

"Who's in charge of internal security?" Lanier asked pointedly. "And do we have any choice?"

Patricia awoke to find the cabin in semidarkness. She had rolled to face the window. More than twenty kilometers below, the corridor's surface was dark and scarred. Great gashes crisscrossed the mottled ground, the edges shining dully.

She rolled to look across the cabin. Her captor lay wrapped in a net of twinkling blue and green lights. Sparks shot between each light in the net, and within, his body was enveloped in a translucent greenish fog.

She had enough weight in the cabin to feel the difference between up and down. Slipping out of her molded berth, she reached across to touch the net of lights and see if it was real. Before her fingers made contact, a voice stopped her.

"Please do not disturb." Olmy stood at the front of the cabin. Patricia looked between the figure in the couch and the Olmy that had just addressed her. "I am a partial personality, an assigned ghost. Olmy is resting, performing Talsit meditation. If you have any business with him, please allow me to substitute."

"What are you?" Patricia asked.

"An assigned ghost. While he rests, I perform any duties he may have which do not require physical activity. I have no substance. I am a projection."

"Oh." She frowned at the image. "What's he. . . doing? What's happening to him?"

"Talsit meditation is the process of being surrounded by carriers of Talsit data. His body is cleansed of impurities and his mind of obstacles to clear thought. Talsit data informs, reorganizes, criticizes the mental functions. It is a kind of dreaming."

"Are you just a recording?"

"No. I am connected with his thought processes, but in a way that does not interfere with rest."

"Where's the—" She was about to say, "boojum." She looked to the rear and saw the flat-headed, knock-kneed brown creature curled in its own berth, watching her with calm, slowly blinking eyes.

"Hello," it said musically.

Patricia swallowed and nodded. "What was your name again?"

"I have no name. I am a Frant."

"Who's piloting?"