He turned his attention again to the dead Earth. The plasma glow had dimmed slightly. Distinct ethereal pinks and oranges and grayish blues gave it a pearly appearance, like a child's plastic ball illuminated from within. The diameter of the plasma ovoid and the haze of debris had expanded to well over thirty thousand miles by now. The ovoid continued to lengthen, spreading the new belt of asteroids into the stubby beginnings of an arc.

The transparent panel became mercifully opaque.

As if released from puppet strings, fully half of the witnesses collapsed on the floor. Arthur hugged Francine and gripped Marty's shoulder, unable to speak, then walked among his fellows, seeing what could be done to help them.

The copper-colored robot appeared at the end of the cabin and floated forward. Behind it came dozens more survivors, bearing trays and bowls of water, food, and medicines.

It is the Law.

The words echoed again and again through Arthur's thoughts as he helped revive those who had fallen.

It is the Law.

Marty stayed by his side, kneeling with him as he elevated a young woman's head and held a metal cup of water to her lips.

"Father," the boy said, "where are we going now?"

AGNUS DEI

AGNUS DEI

The child, ravaged by wolves, falls quiet in the forest, and the long darkness is filled with an undisturbed silence.

PERSPECTIVE

New Mars Gazette,

December 21, 2397;

Editorial by Francine Gordon:

The screen for today’s edition is filled with news from the Central Ark. Four hundred more of us, most from the Eurasian arks, have been revived from deep sleep, and prepared for their arrival on New Mars by the Moms. (Does anybody remember who first called the robots Moms? It was Reuben Bordes, then nineteen, revived eight years ago and now on the New Venus Reconnaissance Mission.) Our population today hit the mark of 12,250; the Moms say we are doing well, and I believe them.

New Mars today celebrates its first year of autonomy. The Moms no longer exercise what my husband has called zookeeper's authority. Already we begin to factionalize and squabble; but these are the signs of a reborn planetism coming once again to maturity. Does that bring us much cheer? Not the politicians, bracing for the arrival of more Marxists .

But what we really celebrate, of course, is the four hundredth anniversary of the Ice Strike that began New Mars. This world has already become home to most of the human race. I feel a stronger connection to New Mars now than to Earth, blasphemous as that might seem; in our hearts I think we must acknowledge that the ten years since most of us came out of sleep have blurred the pain of Earth's death. Not banished, just subdued . . .

We cannot forget.