“Then we can restore the Redoubt’s working force rather rapidly.”

“Yes . . . but that’s the problem. Most of our people know this and they . . . ahh, saw what I did with the clones and the sympathizers. They’re beginning to see that they can be replaced.”

“I understand.” Oakes nodded. “That’s why you have to stay at the Redoubt.” He studied Lewis. The man was still worried, still holding something back. “What else, Jesus?”

Lewis spoke too quickly. The answer had been right there in front of his awareness awaiting the question.

“An energy problem. We can work it out.”

“You can work it out.”

Lewis lowered his gaze. It was the answer he expected. Correct answer, of course. But they had to produce more burst, their own elixir.

“I will give you one suggestion,” Oakes said. “Plenty of hard work precludes time for plotting and worry. Now that you’ve solved the clone problem, put your people to work eliminating the kelp. I want a neat, simple solution. Enzymes, virus, whatever. Tell them to wipe out the kelp.”

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

An infinite universe presents infinite examples of unreasoned acts, often capricious and threatening, godlike in their mystery. Without god-powers, conscious reasoning cannot explore and make this universe absolutely known; there must remain mysteries beyond what is explained. The only reason in this universe is that which you, in your ungodlike hubris, project onto the universe. In this, you retain kinship with your most primitive ancestors.

—Raja Thomas, Shiprecords

AS SHE stood frozen in terror of the foul-breathed stranger, Hali tried to think of a safe response. The terrible differences of this place where Ship had projected her compounded her sense of helplessness. The dust of the throng which followed the beaten man, the malignant odors, the passions in the voices, the milling movements against a single sun . . .

“Do you know him?” The man was insistent.

Hali wanted to say she had never before seen the injured man but something told her this could not be true. There had been something disquietingly familiar about that man.

Why did he speak to me of God and knowing?

Could that have been another Shipman projected here? Why had the wounded man seemed so familiar? And why had he addressed her directly?

“You can tell me.” Foul-breath was slyly persistent.

“I came a long way to see him.” The old voice which Ship had provided her sounded groveling, but the words were true. She felt it in these old bones she had borrowed. Ship would not lie to her and Ship had said this. A very great distance. Whatever this event signified, Ship had brought her expressly to see it.

“I don’t place your accent,” Foul-breath said. “Are you from Sidon?”

She moved after the crowd and spoke distractedly to the inquisitor who kept pace with her. “I come from Ship.”

What were those people doing with the wounded man?