“Thank you, Ser President,” Mishiney’s partial said. “I appreciate your cooperation with Earth’s parliament. I look forward to studying your complete records, Ser Olmy.”

The ghosts faded, leaving them alone above the dark fathomless void, now empty of both Earth and Moon. Olmy looked down and spotted a glimmer of light amidst the stars: Thistledown, he thought, and his implants quickly provided a calculation that confirmed his guess.

“One last question, Ser Olmy, and then this meeting is completed. The neo-Geshels…if they manage to get the Hexamon to re-open the Way, do we have the resources to continue the Earth’s support at present levels?”

“No, Ser President. Successful re-opening would cause long delays at the very least in major rehabilitation projects.”

“We’re already strapped for resources, aren’t we? More than the Hexamon is willing to admit. And yet, there are Terrestrials—Mishiney among them—who believe that in the long run, re-opening would benefit us all.” The president shook his head and picted a symbol of judgment and a symbol of extreme foolishness: a man sharpening a ridiculously long sword. The pict symbol no longer had a connection with war, per se, but its subtext was still a little surprising to Olmy. War with whom?

“We must learn to adapt and live under the present circumstances. I believe that deeply,” Farren Siliom said. “But my influence is not boundless. So many of our people have become so very homesick! Can you imagine that? Even I. I was one of the firebrands who supported Rosen Gardner and demanded a return to Earth, to what we thought of as our true home—but no one alive in the Way had ever been to Earth! How sophisticated we think we are, yet how irrational and protean our deepest emotions and motivations. Perhaps a better grade of Talsit would help, no?”

Olmy smiled noncommittally.

The president’s shoulders slumped. With an effort, he squared them again. “We should learn to live without these luxuries. The Good Man never availed himself of Talsit.” He walked to the edge of the platform, as if to avoid the abyss beneath their feet. Earth was coming into view again. “Have the neo-Geshels carried their activities to Earth? Beyond people like Mishiney?”

“No. They seem content to ignore the Earth, Ser President.”

“The least I’d expect from such visionaries. That’s a political wellspring they’ll regret overlooking. Surely they can’t believe the Earth will have no say in such a decision! And on Thistledown?”

“They’re still openly campaigning. I found no sign of subversive activities.”