Their work on Rheindic Co amounted to a tremendous undertaking of data gathering, with little time for analysis and introspection except in the evenings. Unfortunately, it was late morning now. Margaret couldn’t believe how many good working hours she had already wasted writing this progress report, but she knew her obligations. The Hansa gave them substantial funding, and one of their adamant requirements was that the Colicoses deliver regular updates. Louis certainly wouldn’t do it—he thought such “homework assignments” were pointless. But Margaret understood that a good archaeologist had to keep the funding sources happy, even if it consumed productive hours.

Though she had already listened to the delicate metallic tune many times since awakening, Margaret activated the old-fashioned music box Anton had given her. The tiny metalcomb teeth whirred out the haunting old melody of “Greensleeves.” She smiled at the thought of her son and wondered how often he imagined his parents on far-flung planets.

Margaret reread her report, satisfied with the tone and the descriptions of all the things they had discovered. When this dig was finished, she would carry home detailed scan images and preserved artifacts, but for now Arcas would dictate her report to his small grove of worldtrees. Via telink connection, his words would reach a green priest counterpart on Earth, where the report would be delivered to—and perhaps be ignored by—Chairman Wenceslas.

Along with DD, Louis was already inside the cliff city, tinkering with alien mechanical leftovers, sure that he could reactivate one of the long-abandoned generators. Anxious to get back to the ruins herself, Margaret stepped out into the harsh, dry sunlight and looked toward the maze of spidery canyons that ran through the nearby mountain buttress. She wondered how much more remained to be found out there. They had barely scratched the surface.

She looked for Arcas, but the priest’s hut was empty. She scowled, annoyed. Behind his tent, the twenty worldtree saplings had grown as high as her head, and they spread their golden-green fronds to drink up the sunlight. The soil around them was moist, indicating that Arcas had already watered them for the day, but he was nowhere in sight. She needed to transmit her report, and it wasn’t as if he had much else to do.

Earlier, Arcas had proved his worth by receiving and then reporting the astonishing news about the alien attack on Oncier. He was unable to show images through the telink connection, but he described what General Lanyan had discovered. Stunned, Margaret remembered the brief glimpse she’d had of the crystalline spheres that had shot out of the burning planet’s interior and streaked off into space. Dr. Serizawa had blithely dismissed them as “exotic debris” ejected from the burning planet.

Had their test of the Klikiss Torch somehow provoked this attack? What life form could possibly exist deep within the high-pressure bowels of an enormous gas planet?