"Is that what we're doing?" Twisp asked.

"You are stalling," Gallow said. "You want to see where the tanks come down."

Twisp smiled.

"For an Islander, you're pretty smart," Gallow said. "You know what I'm offering. You could have anything you want - money, women ..."

"How do you know what I want?" Twisp asked.

"You're no different from anyone else in that," Gallow said. He sent his glance along Twisp's long arms. "There might even be a few Mermen women who wouldn't find you objectionable."

Gallow pocketed his lasgun and displayed his empty hand. "See? I know what'll work with you. I know what I can give you."

Twisp shook his head slowly from side to side. Again, he looked at the LTAs. Objectionable? One step and he would have his long arms on the most objectionable human he had ever met. Two more steps and they would be over the side into the sea.

But then I might never know how it came out.

He thought about finding himself conscious in the kelp's vast reservoir of awareness. He shared Keel's revulsion to that end. Damn! And I couldn't help the old man! Gallow owes us for that!

A shadow passed across Twisp, bringing an immediate coolness from the breeze that tugged at him. He thought it just another cloud but Gallow gasped and something touched Twisp's shoulder, his cheek - a long and ropy something.

Twisp looked up into the base of a hylighter then, seeing the long, dark tentacles all around, feeling them grab him. Somewhere, he could hear screaming.

Gallow?

A flawless voice filled Twisp's senses, seeming to come at him along every nerve channel - hearing, touch, sight ... all of him was caught up in that voice.

"Welcome to Avata, fisherman Twisp," the voice said. "What is your wish?"

"Put me down," Twisp gasped.

"Ahhh, you wish to retain the flesh. Then Avata cannot put you down here. The flesh would be damaged, very likely destroyed. Be patient and have no fear. Avata will put you down with your friends."

"Gallow?" Twisp managed.

"He is not your friend!"

"I know that!"

"And so does Avata. Gallow will be put down, as you so quaintly phrase it, but from a great height. Gallow is no longer anything but a curiosity, no more than an aberration. Better to consider him a disease, infectious and sometimes deadly. Avata is curing the infected body."

Twisp grew aware then that he dangled high in the air, wind blowing past him. A great expanse of kelp spread out far below him. A sudden feeling of vertigo tightened his chest and throat, filled him with dizziness.

"Do not fear," the flawless voice said. "Avata cherishes the friends and companions of beloved Scudi Wang."

Twisp slowly twisted his head upward, feeling the ropy tentacles holding him tight around the waist and legs, seeing the dark underside of the bag that suspended this twining mass.

Avata?

"You see what you call hylighter," the voice told him. "Once more Avata spawns in the mother-sea. Once more there is rock. That which humans destroyed, humans have restored. Thereby, you learn from your mistakes."

A great feeling of bitterness welled up in Twisp. "So you're going to fix everything! No more mistakes. Everything perfect in the most perfect of worlds."

A sense of laughter without sound permeated Twisp then. The flawless voice came light and cajoling: "Do not project your fears upon Avata. Here is only the mirror that reveals yourself." The voice changed, becoming almost strident. "Now! Here below you have your friends. Treat them well and share your joys with them. Have not Islanders learned this lesson well from the human errors of the past?"

The forward bulk of Vashon was close enough in the darkness that Brett could pick out the lights of the more prominent structures. He sat beside Scudi in the control seats of the foil, hearing the low-voiced conversations behind him. Most of the Shipclones had been deposited on the outpost amidst the fearful and chastened Green Dashers. The task of feeding all those newcomers had become a primary problem. Only a representative few of the people from the hyb tanks remained in the foil. The Clone called Bickel stood close behind Brett, watching the same night view of their approach to Vashon.

That Bickel would be one to watch, Brett thought. A demanding, powerful man. And large. All of these Shipclones were big! This amplified the food problem in a daunting way.

Someone came up from the rear of the cabin and stopped near the big Shipclone.

"There will be a lot of debriefing once we get there." The voice was Kareen Ale's.

Brett heard Twisp cough at the rear of the cabin. Debriefing? Probably. Some of the old routines still had value. Twisp's experience in the grip of the hylighter must be added to all of the other new knowledge.

... beloved Scudi Wang.

Brett glanced at Scudi's profile outlined in the dim lights from the instruments ahead of her. Something filled his breast at the very thought of Scudi. Beloved, beloved, he thought.

The twin lane of blue lights that marked Vashon's main harbor entrance loomed dead ahead. Scudi dropped the foil down onto its hull.

"They'll have medical people waiting for Bushka," Scudi said. "Better get him back to the hatch."

"Right." Ale could be heard leaving.

"Is that land just beyond the Island?" Bickel asked.

Brett shuddered. The newcomers always sounded so loud!

"It's land," Scudi said.

"It must be at least two hundred meters high," Brett said. He had to remind himself that neither this newcomer nor Scudi could see the land mass as clearly as he could.

The foil was into the enclosing arms of Vashon's harbor then. Brett popped the cabin emergency hatch beside him and leaned out into the wind, seeing the familiar outline of this haven he had known so intimately. That other time of intimacy with this place seemed to him now eons in the past. His position in the foil's control cabin gave him a commanding view of the approach - the rimlights, Islanders racing to grab the foil's lines as Scudi backed the jets. The hissing of the jets went silent. The foil rocked and then was snugged against the bubbly at the dockside. Scudi turned on the cabin lights.

Familiar faces looked up at Brett - Islander faces he had noticed in passing many times. And with them came the old familiar stench of Vashon.

"Whew!" Bickel said. "That place stinks!"

Brett felt Scudi's arm go around his neck and her head bent close to his. "I don't mind the smell, love," she whispered.

"We'll clean it up when we get on land," Brett said. He looked up at the great mass of starlighted rock that dominated the sky behind Vashon. Was that where he and Scudi would go? Or would they return down under and work to reclaim other places like this one?

A voice called up to them from dockside. "That you, Brett Norton?"

"Here I am!"

"Your folks are waiting at the Hall of Art. Say they're anxious to see you."

"Would you tell them we'll meet them at the Ace of Cups?" Brett called. "I've got some friends I want them to meet."

"Jesus Christ!" Bickel's voice was a sharp exhalation behind Brett. "Look at the deformities! How the hell can those people live?"

"Happily," Brett said. "Get used to it, Shipclone. To us, they're beautiful." Gently, he pressed back against Scudi, indicating that he wanted to get out of the control seats.

Together, they slid out of the seats and looked up at the towering figure of Bickel.

"What'd you call me?" Bickel demanded.

"Shipclone," Brett said. "Every living human being Ship brought to Pandora was a Clone."