She stared at the com-console. The seat there at the instruction terminal was her seat now; she knew it. Kerro was gone . . . groundside. Ship had introduced her to this place, had given it to her.

The message was clear: No more Kerro Panille here.

A shuddering wave of loss shot through her, and she shook tears from her eyes. This was no place to stay now. She stood, took up her pribox and slipped out the way she had entered.

Why me?

She wound her way out of softwares and into D passage leading back to Medical, into the workings of Ship’s body.

The beep of her pribox startled her.

“Ekel here,” she said, surprised at the youthfulness of her own voice—not at all like the ancient quavering of that old woman’s voice she had borrowed.

Her pribox crackled, then: “Ekel, report to Dr. Ferry’s office.”

She found a servo and, instead of walking, rode to Medical.

Ferry, she thought. Could it mean reassignment? Could I be joining Kerro groundside?

The thought excited her, but the idea of groundside duty remained fearful. So many nasty rumors. And lately, all groundside assignments seemed permanent. Except for the tight-knit political circle at Medical, no one made the return trip. Pressures of work had kept her from thinking much about this before, but suddenly it became vital.

What are they doing with all our people?

The drain on equipment and food from Ship was a topic for constant anxious conversation; recurrent dayside orders exhorted greater production efforts . . . but few speculated about missing people.

We’ve been conditioned not to face the finality of absolute endings. Is that why Ship showed me Yaisuah?

The thought stood there in her awareness, riding on the hum of the servo carrying her toward Medical and Ferry.

It was clear to her that Yaisuah had ended, but his influence had not ended. Pandora was a place of endings. It gulped food and people and equipment. What influences were about to be sent reverberating from that place?

Endings.

The servo fell silent, stopped. She looked up to see Medical’s servo gate and, across the passage, the hatch to Ferry’s offices. She did not want to go through that hatch. Her body still throbbed with sensitivities ignited by what Ship had shown her. She did not want Ferry touching her body. It was more than her dislike for him—the silly old fool! He drank too much of the alcohol which came up from Colony and he always reached out to put a hand on her somewhere.

Everyone knew the Demarest woman brought him his wine from groundside. He always had plenty of it after her visits.

His food chits can’t support that kind of drinking.

She stared at the dogged hatch across the way. Something was definitely wrong—shipside and groundside. Why did Rachel Demarest bring wine up to Ferry?

If she brings him wine, what does she get in return?