Oakes glanced around his cubby. No visible sensors, but this had never reassured him. The damned ship always knew what was happening shipside.

I will have to go groundside.

The reasons were compelling. Lewis would take Lab One to the Redoubt, of course. But there were too many other delicate matters in balance at Colony.

Groundside.

He had always known he would have to quit the ship one day. It did not help that circumstances had made the decision for him. The move was being forced and he felt vulnerable. This incident with the Nerve Runners did nothing to reassure him.

What a dilemma!

As he gathered more power and exercised it, shipside became increasingly untrustworthy. But Pandora remained equally dangerous and unknown.

It occurred to Oakes then that he had been hoping for a tranquilized and sterilized planet, a place made ready for him by Lewis, before going groundside.

Sterile. Yes.

Oakes stared at Lewis. Why did the man appear so smug? It was more than survival against odds. Lewis was holding something back.

“What else do you have to report?”

“The new E-clones. They were in an isolated chamber and all survived. They’re clean, completely unprogrammed and beautiful. Just beautiful.”

Oakes was distrustful. The statistical incidence of deviation among clones was a known factor. The body, after all, was transparent to cosmic bombardments which altered the genetic messages in human cells. Rebuilding the DNA structure was Lewis’ specialty, yes, but still . . .

“No kinks?”

“I used ’lectrokelp cells and went back to recombinant DNA as a foundation for the changes.” He rubbed the side of his nose with a forefinger. “We’ve succeeded.”

“You said that last time.”

“It worked last time, too. We simply couldn’t keep up with the food supply necessary to . . .”

“No freaks?”

“A clean job. All we get is accelerated growth to maturity. And that kelp isn’t easy to work with. Lab people hallucinating all over the damn place and aging faster than . . .”

“Are you still able to waste lab technicians on this?”

“They’re not wasted!” Lewis was angry, exactly the reaction Oakes had sought.

Oakes smiled reassuringly. “I just want to know that it’s working, Jesus, that’s all.”

“It’s working.”

“Good. I believe you’re the only person who could make it work, but I am the only person who can give you the freedom in which to do this. What is the time frame?”

Lewis blinked at the sudden shift of the question. Cagey old bastard always kept you off balance. He took a deep breath, feeling the wine, the remembered sense of protective enclosure which Ship . . . the ship always gave him.

“How long?” Oakes insisted.

“We can continue an E-clone’s growth, the aging, actually, and arrive at any age you want. From conception to age fifty in fifty diurns.”

“In good condition?”

“Top condition and completely receptive to our programming. They’re mewling infants until they become our . . . ah, servants.”