That was risky and he could not take risks now, central as he was to the Hexamon’s effort.

There, he told himself after a few minutes had passed. Quiet. Peace. Integration.

“Konrad,” came a voice from the blister’s bore hole entrance. Korzenowski grimaced and turned to face the voice. It was Olmy; they hadn’t talked in weeks. He spread his arms and slowed his precessing, then tracted outward from the center.

They picted intimate greetings and embraced each other in the near-weightlessness. “My friend,” Korzenowski said.

“I’ve disturbed your free time,” Olmy said, picting polite concern.

“Yes, but no matter. I’m glad to see you.”

“Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Garry Lanier suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage.”

“He wasn’t protected—” Korzenowski’s face paled. “He’s dead?”

“Very nearly. Karen discovered him a few seconds after it happened and immediately called Christchurch.”

“His damned Old Native pride!” Korzenowski exclaimed. The anger was not just his own.

“They reached him within ten minutes. He’s alive, but he needs reconstruction—the brain is extensively damaged.”

Korzenowski closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. He did not approve of forced medication, but under the circumstances, he doubted the Hexamon would give Lanier much choice in his treatments. “They did this to him,” he said bitterly. “We’ve all had a hand in it…”

“There’s guilt enough to go around,” Olmy said. “If Karen consents to reconstruction, most of the damage can be reversed…But he’ll need medical aid that he’s always been on record as refusing.”

“Have you told Ram Kikura?”

Olmy shook his head. “She’s being kept under house arrest, held in a communications null. Besides, my own leash is short.”

“So is mine,” Korzenowski said, “but I can swing wide enough to hit some influential people.”

“I appreciate that,” Olmy said. “I’m afraid my political status is uncertain at the moment.”

“Why?”

“I’ve refused to take command of the Emergency Defense Effort.”

“You’d be the best choice,” Korzenowski said. “Why refuse?”

Olmy smiled and shook his head.

Korzenowski, staring into his eyes, felt a small tingle of sympathy. He’s not alone, either. But he couldn’t decide what made him feel that way, or what the feeling implied.

“I’ll explain later. It’s not the time now. I think I’ll be hard to reach for a while, however.” The last message he picted in tight-beam so that only Korzenowski could receive it. “If you need to tell me anything, please…”

Korzenowski examined Olmy for a moment, then picted, “I’ll feel very alone without you to speak to, should I need you…or Garry, or Ram Kikura.”

Olmy nodded understanding. “Perhaps we’ll all meet again. Star, Fate and Pneuma willing.” He tracted swiftly back to the bore hole.