“About, ahhh, you. We have tested you since your return and . . . ahhh, we do not find usable answers. Even Ship is no help. Whatever it is, Ship has locked it away—Restricted. Or . . .” He shot a venomous glance at Hali. “. . . we are referred to Med-tech Hali Ekel.”

Hali could not repress a gasp.

Waela whirled and glared at her.

Hali realized suddenly that now she was a target.

“Waela, I swear to you that I don’t know what he’s talking about. I’m here to protect you and your baby, not to hurt you.”

Waela gave a curt nod, returned her attention to Ferry.

Andrit groaned and pushed himself upright. Waela bent and, with one hand, hoisted him to his feet. In the same motion, she hurled him toward the couch where he narrowly missed Brulagi and Usija. The effortless way Waela did this made Hali hold her breath, then exhale slowly. Very dangerous, indeed.

“Tell us the circumstances where Ship refers you to Hali Ekel,” Waela said. Her voice was like a bubbling volcano.

Andrit leaned forward abruptly and vomited, but no one looked.

“When we asked if it was the child causing this or if it was you,” Ferry said.

Hali gasped, her vision suddenly blurred by memory of a dusty hillside, the setting of a blazing yellow sun, and three figures tortured on crosses. What kind of a child was Waela carrying?

Waela spoke without turning. “Hali, does that mean anything to you?”

“How was your child conceived?” Hali asked.

Waela turned a startled look toward her. “Kerro and I . . . for Ship’s sake, you know how babies are made! Do you think we carry axolotl tanks on those subs?”

Hali looked at the deck. The legend said immaculate conception—no man involved. A god . . . But it was only a legend, a myth. Why would Ship refer the questioners to her? Many times since that trip through time, Hali had asked herself, Why? What was I supposed to learn? Ship spoke of holy violence. The accounts concerning the Hill of Skulls which she had scanned since the experience certainly confirmed this. Holy violence and Waela’s child?

Waela continued to stare at her. “Well, Hali?”

“Perhaps your child is not confined to this time.” She shrugged. “I can’t explain, but that’s what occurs to me.”

Apparently, this satisfied Waela. She glanced at Andrit, who was holding his head and remaining quiet. She turned back to Ferry.

“What is it about my baby? What’re you afraid of?”

“Murdoch?” It was a desperate plea from Ferry. Murdoch crossed his arms and said, “We got the reports from Ferry and . . .”

“What reports?”

Murdoch swallowed, nodded at the holoprojection with its spiral of red dots.

“What were you supposed to do to me?” Waela asked.

“Nothing. I swear it. Nothing.”

He’s terrified, Hali thought. Has he seen this feral threatened-mother phenomenon before?

“Questions?” Waela asked.

“Oh, yes, of course—questions.”

“Ask them.”