“Putting aside for the moment the vagueness in that word ‘clear’ and this unexplained concept of ‘Council,’ let me point out one thing we all know. It took ten hours to clear this room for a meeting. We have a choice. We keep this hall clear and ready at all times, thereby putting a dangerous strain on production facilities, or we accept a ten-hour delay for every major decision. I prefer to call those survival decisions, by the way.” He made a show of looking back at the large wall chrono, then returned his attention to the audience. “We’ve already been here more than fifteen minutes and obviously we will use more time on this.”

Oakes cleared his throat, giving them a moment in which to absorb what he had said. He noted a few squirmers in the audience sending signals that they would like to comment on this argument, and he had not missed the fact that Murdoch had taken Rachel Demarest’s arm, whispering in her ear and, incidentally, keeping her from interrupting.

“Point Three,” Oakes said. “More rest and recuperation back on the ship. If we . . .”

“Ship!” Someone in the middle rows shouted. Oakes identified the speaker, a guard on the hangar perimeter squad, one of Demarest’s supporters. “Not the ship, but Ship!” The man, half out of his seat, was pulled back by a companion.

“Let’s face that then,” Oakes said. “I presume that a Chaplain/Psychiatrist has a modicum of expertise with which to address this question?”

He glanced at Rachel Demarest who still was being held quietly but firmly by Murdoch. You want to use titles? Very well, let us put this title into its proper perspective. Not Ceepee, but Chaplain/Psychiatrist. All the traditions of THE ship stand behind me.

“I will spell it out for you,” Oakes said, turning once more to the audience. “We are a mixed bag of people. Most of us appear to have come from Earth where I was born. We were removed by the ship . . .”

“Ship saved you!” That damned guard would not stay silent. “Ship saved you! Our sun was going nova!”

“So the ship says!”

Oakes gave it a bit more volume by a touch on his wand’s controls. “The facts are open to other interpretation.”

“The facts . . .”

“What have we experienced?” Oakes drowned him out and then reduced the volume. “What have we experienced?” Lower volume still. “We found ourselves on the ship with other people whose origins are not clear, not clear at all. Some clones, some naturals. The ship taught us its language and controlled our history lessons. We learn what the ship wants us to learn. And what are the ship’s motives?”

“Blasphemy!”