Jan still didn’t like the idea of injecting foreign bodies into Sebastian, and allowing them to run riot through his body. “What about Fishel’s Law? How smart would these nanos be?”

“Not smart at all. You don’t need to worry about them getting out of control. They will be designed for a single function, and they will be unable to perform any other.”

“Suppose that I don’t agree to go along with this? What other options do we have?”

Valnia Bloom avoided Jan’s eyes. “I was rather hoping that you would not ask me that question. But I can answer it. We have no real options. Unless something like full-body sluicing is done, and we are able to demonstrate its effectiveness, Jovian security will never permit Sebastian to go free. He will remain here or in some similar closed establishment, under guard, for the rest of his life.”

“Then I have no choice, do I? For Sebastian’s sake, I must permit you to go ahead.”

“Very good. Since this meeting is being recorded, there is no need for any other action on your part. However, I have one more thing to say. This pertains not to Sebastian’s welfare, but to your own.”

“Yes?” Jan was instantly wary. People only did things for you to further their own agendas.

“You have cared for Sebastian, by your own admission, since childhood. I’m sure that you meant well, but your actions have had an unfortunate side-effect. He has never developed the ability to make his own decisions.”

“No! You’ve got everything backwards. I cared for him because he couldn’t look after himself.”

“That’s what you believe. I remain unconvinced. Earlier, I said that while the nanos are being developed and tested, you would be free to come and go as you chose. I stick by that statement. However, I strongly urge you to stay away from Sebastian. Let us find out what he does without your constant guidance.”

Jan felt a surge of anger, strong and irrational. “You mean, let’s find out what Sebastian does with your constant guidance. You think he’s yours now — you have, ever since we left Earth.”

The color that came to Valnia Bloom’s cheeks transformed her to a vulnerable human. “I think of him as a research subject.” Her voice shook, and she stood up. “Sebastian Birch is no more to me than that, nor has he ever been. I’m afraid that I cannot say the same for you. Sebastian Birch is your obsession. Let me offer a suggestion: get a life! It’s very clear that at the moment you do not have one.”

She was gone before Jan could reply. After a few moments Jan realized that she in any case had nothing to say. The other woman’s get a life merely restated Paul’s comment. Don’t forget that you are entitled to a life, too.

Jan stared at the microscope, and at the baffling array of brain scans and reports on the table next to it. She should not be here in the lab at all. She was not qualified to be here. Her presence had been tolerated, sure — but everyone knew she had nothing to contribute. She was no scientist or medical specialist. Any treatment she proposed for Sebastian would be as likely to kill him as cure him.

She stood up. What was the name of the restaurant that Paul had mentioned? The Belly of the Whale. Almost certainly, it was already too late. There was only a tiny chance that she would find him there. But she didn’t have to find him there. He was still on Ganymede. Someone on the Achilles would be able to tell her how to find him.

And then?

And then Jan was going to make a fool of herself. Maybe that’s what getting a life was all about.

26

Bat’s decision had been made weeks ago. Now, as the time for Ganymede departure grew closer, his reluctance to leave the Bat Cave on Pandora increased.

He wandered the length of the main chamber, seeing not so much the Great War artifacts that were collected there as the ones that were missing. Here was a cleared space for a life-support pod from the freighter Pelagic. Bat was convinced from fragmentary and scattered records that half a dozen of those pods still existed, floating somewhere deep in space with their human cargo. He, at least, was not persuaded that the cargo was dead. In any case, a pod itself would be a rare treasure.

The next space was more questionable, its existence supported on a gossamer net of indirect evidence. If the rumored BEC sentience had been created, that event must have taken place only in the last few days of the war.

And where would it have gone? The continued existence of a Bose-Einstein Condensate of the required magnitude, sentient or not, called for temperatures sustained within a few billionths of a degree of absolute zero. No natural environment in the universe offered anything colder than the 2.7 Kelvin microwave background radiation. A BEC sentience would require its own artificially cooled setting, maintained perhaps deep within one of the natural bodies that floated beyond the orbit of Neptune. The Belt weapons-makers, Bat knew, had established at least two research labs far off in that outer darkness. One day, as the boundaries of civilization steadily widened, those facilities would be discovered. And then, if they contained a sentient BEC, its find would set off an unprecedented bidding battle among Great War collectors — unless the sentience was able to argue its own case for continuing independence.

The third shrine-in-anticipation was reserved for Nadeen Selassie’s unknown master weapon, existence unproven and nature unknown. Bat was staring at the empty space and seeking to imagine its contents when Mord’s individual signal sounded through the chamber.

“I will be with you shortly.” Bat could communicate orally with outside callers from anywhere in the Bat Cave, but visual displays required his presence in one of the two communications centers. “This is fortunate timing. In eight hours I leave Pandora for a trip to Ganymede.”

“Which you swore you’d never be going back to.” Mord’s single sniff was the equivalent of a dozen cynical comments.

“A certain flexibility of outlook distinguishes the superior mind.”

“Right. Didn’t you tell me a few weeks ago that genius is distinguished by the power to focus on a single idea for months or years?”

“The superior mind is one able to encompass simultaneously a number of inconsistent facts and theories.” Bat had reached the big padded seat. He settled into it with a grunt of contentment. This answered one question. Whatever else was left behind on Pandora, the seat at least went with him. “Is this a social visit, or do you report progress?”

“Anybody who paid you a social visit would take vacations on the Vulcan Nexus.” Mord’s squint-eyed glower filled the display in front of Bat. “I’ve found out some stuff — and it wasn’t easy. I had to wriggle through fancy firewalls and data security systems. Want to know about the secret sex life of Earth’s head of economic planning?”

“I do not. As for your difficulties, nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Did you locate the medical records for the children rescued from Earth’s northern hemisphere, in the months or years following the end of the Great War?”

“Patience, patience. If that’s all I had, I’d have sent it to you by regular mail. Yeah, I got the med records. A few hundred kids were in the right age group, but none of them was what you’d call normal. Most of ’em had seen their families burned or blown up or eaten, and they’d all been through hell. Standard therapy was to blank out those memories, and you can see why. But that, and the lack of records, makes it impossible to trace medical history back to before they were found. The medical records after they were found are not much help, either, because Earth was still coping with close to eight billion dead. Nobody had time for, elaborate examinations of the living. The displaced persons’ camps counted arms and legs, made sure the kids were breathing, and that was about it.”