He'd left his console and had drifted up the cabin, close to her station near the pigs' harness. She stared at the broad, fat-laden face, the mound of beard around his mouth. When she'd first been introduced to Hork she'd been fascinated and disconcerted — as Hork intended, no doubt — by that beard, by this man with hair on his face. But now, as she looked closer, she could see the way the roots of the beard's hair-tubes were arranged in a neat hexagonal pattern over Hork's chin... The beard had been transplanted, either from Hork's own scalp or from one of his more unfortunate subjects.

So the beard wasn't impressive, she decided. Just decadent. And besides, it was yellowing more quickly than the hair on his head; another few years and Hork would look truly absurd.

How huge, how intrusive, how irritating he was. The tension between them seemed to crackle like electron gas.

"Philosophic difficulties? I'm not superstitious."

"I didn't suggest you were."

"We aren't religious about the Xeelee. I don't fear that we're going to bring down the wrath of the Xeelee, if that's what you mean. But Human Beings — alone — would never have attempted this journey into the Star."

"Because the Xeelee will look after you, like mama in the sky."

Dura sighed. "Not at all. In fact, quite the opposite... We have to accept the actions of the Xeelee without question — for we believe that their goals will prove in the long term to be of benefit to us all, to humans as a race. Even if it means the destruction of the Star — even if it means our own destruction."

Hork shook his head. "You upfluxers are full of laughs, aren't you? Well, it's a chilly faith. And damn cold comfort."

"You don't understand," Dura said. "It's not meant to be comforting. Back up there..." — she jerked her thumb upward, to the world of light and humans — "there is my comfort. My family and people."

Hork studied her. His face, under its layers of fat, was broad and coarsely worked, but — she admitted grudgingly — not without perception and sensitivity. "You fear death, Dura, despite your knowledge."

Dura laughed and closed her eyes. "I told you; knowledge is not necessarily a comfort. I've no reason not to fear death... and, yes, I fear it now."

Hork breathed deeply. "Then have faith in me. We'll survive. I feel it. I know it..."

His face was close to hers, so close she could smell sweet bread on his breath. His expression was clear, set. Determination seemed to shine from him; just for a moment Dura felt tempted to let herself wallow in that determination, to relax in his massive strength as if he were her father reborn.

But she resisted. She said harshly, "So you've no fear of death? Will your power in Parz help you overcome the final disaster?"