“I want to talk to Murdoch.”

“He is shipside, sir.”

“I know he’s shipside! Get him on a line to me as soon as you can!”

He smacked the key on the console with the side of his fist and the frightened little med-tech’s face faded.

Damn! Just when things were going right!

He looked out over the clear bay beside the shuttle station. No more kelp there anyway. The perimeter lights and the arcs from the nightside crew’s torches reflected the flat calm of the water.

No kelp. It’ll be gone from Pandora before we know it.

That left Ship.

The ship.

And now, that TaoLini woman. No telling what she knows. Thomas could have convinced her of anything. After all, he was a Ceepee. . . .

Oakes turned back to his console and activated the holo of Thomas’ debriefing.

Thomas sat in the center of the room, a cell three meters square. He faced the sensor. A tall woman from Behavioral stood facing Thomas and he was shaking his head from side to side.

“No time. No time. ‘You must decide how you will WorShip, Ship says and the clue is in the sea. I know it’s in the sea. WorShip . . . WorShip. And there is no time, after all the eons and all these worlds . . . no time. No time. . . .” Oakes switched off the holo in disgust.

The kelp got to him, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s just as well.

He paced back to the plaz which screened the ocean view, and watched the dazzle of the welders and cutters play across the water.

The kelp is a trade, he thought. Thomas wasn’t all that far off. With the kelp gone, we buy ourselves time and with time we buy a world. Not a bad barter.

He retraced his steps again and again, plaz to console, console to plaz. . . . Having that TaoLini woman shipside was too big a variable—something would have to be done.

Damn that tech! his fist came down again. He should’ve double-talked her into Lab One instead of letting her go shipside. Can’t the fool think for himself? Do I have to make every decision!

He knew Murdoch was up there in a power-scrimmage with Ferry, but they were Lewis’ people and it was Lewis’ business. This whole fiasco was really Lewis’ fault.

“Until they interfere with the Ceepee,” he said aloud, pointing an affirmative finger at his reflection in the plaz. On the other side of the reflection, the quiet bay began to pick up the rhythmic rush rush of small waves licking at the beach.

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Inflection is the adjective of language. It carries the subtleties of delight and horror, the essence of culture and social process. Such is the light-pattern displayed by the kelp; such is the song of the hylighter.

—Kerro Panille, History of the Avata (from the “Preface”)