Vielgorsky slowly lowered himself into the nearest chair, facing the teardrop apprehensively. "You will force me to read books? That will be very silly."

Mirsky came around behind the chair and reached over to flip the control cover. "Would you like to learn how to speak English, French, German?"

Vielgorsky didn't answer.

"No? Then perhaps you'd like to learn a little about history. Not from an American point of view—from the viewpoint of our descendants. The Russians who survived the Death."

"I don't care," Vielgorsky said, his pale moist face almost all nose in the teardrop reflection.

"This is what the Americans were hiding from us," Mirsky said. "Isn't it your duty to inspect the treasure we were fighting for? Your superiors cannot. They are dead, or soon will be. The entire Earth will be covered with smoke for years to come. Millions will starve to death or freeze. By the end of this decade, there will be less than ten million of our countrymen left alive."

"You're talking nonsense," Vielgorsky said, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Our descendants built this starship," Mirsky said. "That's not propaganda, it sounds like fantasy, but it's truth, Vielgorsky, and all our squabbling with each other cannot conceal the truth. We trained and came here and fought and died to find the truth. You would be a traitor to turn away from it."

"Are you proposing we share power?" Vielgorsky asked, glancing up at him. Mirsky swore under his breath and turned on the machine.

"It will speak to you in Russian," he said. "It will answer your questions and it will teach you how to use it. Now ask."

Vielgorsky stared at the floating library symbol, eyes wide.

"Ask."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Start with our past. What they taught us in school."

The symbol changed to a question mark.

"Teach me about. . .” Vielgorsky looked up at Mirsky.

"Go on. It isn't painful. But it is addictive."

"Teach me about Nicholas I."

"That's pretty safe," Mirsky said. "Too far back. Ask it to teach you about the grand strategic plan of the Soviet Army from 1960 to 2005." Mirsky smiled. "Weren't you ever curious?"

"Teach me. . . about that, then," Vielgorsky said.

The library silently searched and organized its presentation, numerous colorful utility symbols flickering around Vielgorsky's field of view. Then it began.

After a half hour, Mirsky turned to Pogodin and Pritikin and told them to go back to the fourth chamber. He nodded at the entranced Vielgorsky. "He'll be no trouble. I'll watch him."

"When will we get our chance?" Pritikin asked.

"Anytime you're free, Comrade," Mirsky said. "It's open to all."

Belozersky jerked the muscular Pletnev up from his chair and swung him around with surprising strength. "I know fantasies when I hear them," he growled.