Giacomo stirred, opened his eyes, and saw Martin. "Hakim didn't make it. Erin. Cham." Giacomo nodded and set his lips, then shook his head.

"I know," Martin said. Resentful that he could be expected to react. He could not feel grief yet. None of this seemed real. He expected to wake back on Dawn Treaderand know they still had the Job ahead of them.

Giacomo blinked slowly. "We saved Jennifer," he said. His eyes seemed darker, deeper, wrapped in exhausted, bruised flesh. "She'll be all right."

Martin shouldered Hans to peer into Hans' display. Hans made space for him without complaint.

"It's done," Giacomo said. He shook his head in disbelief. "It was a shell. Sixty percent of what we saw was fake matter. We think there were only four real planets. Sleep was one of the real ones."

"Don't cheapen our victory," Hans said.

"It was just a shell," Giacomo repeated. "We found the projectors, we figured out how to make them echo our energy, subvert the system from within… we found a few points where we could start chain reactions… We couldn't have done it before. It wasn't nothing and it wasn't easy. We used up nearly all our fuel."

"Real fireworks," Hans said. "Did you see it?"

"Is there enough real mass, are there enough volatiles for us to refuel?" Martin asked.

"Plenty," Hans said. Martin looked to Giacomo for a second opinion.

"We'll have enough," Giacomo said.

Hans reached out and grabbed Martin's shoulder, fingers hard and painful. He shook Martin lightly. "You going to fault me for this?"

Martin looked aggrieved, or perhaps simply confused.

Hans smiled. "We can go marry a planet now."

"We can't leave yet, actually," Giacomo said. "We have to finish the examination—"

"Autopsy," Joe said from the rear.

"Make sure it's dead. Do some research," Giacomo continued. "The moms need a death certificate. We still haven't talked about being released. We don't know where we're going—"

"Shit," Hans said. "Let's savor the moment. We'll have time enough for the bureaucratic stuff later."

Giacomo seemed not to hear him. "We've got to transfer Greyhound'sBrothers to Shrike."

" Shrikestayed out of it," Hans said. "Can you believe it? They didn't do a thing."

"I didn't do a thing," Martin said.

"You opened the door, Martin."

Giacomo agreed. "You put yourselves in much more danger than we did. You lost many more…" He saw Martin's expression and lifted his eyebrows, cocked his head. "Sorry."

"We should hold a service. Honor the dead," Martin said.

Hans did not answer; calling up projections, baring his teeth in a grimacing smile, shaking his head in victorious wonder. "Look at that," he murmured. "Look… at… THAT."

Eye on Sky, Double Twist, Rough Tail, Strong Cord, and Green Cord had all agreed to Martin's request for a meeting in the Brothers' recovery quarters.

He visited Paola Birdsong in her quarters to .ask that she interpret for him again.

Paola had spent less time in space than Martin and Ariel, fewer than eighteen days, but she had been with Strong Cord and Green Cord, and Joe told Martin that the time had been very hard for her. None of the braids had held together; she had been alone for eighteen days with twenty-eight hungry, confused cords.

"At least they didn't chew on me," she said, her voice weak and rough. She had thinned considerably, but her color was good and she moved without apparent pain. "I'm fit enough to work. I never do eat much."

Martin smiled admiringly. "You're a tough one. My joints still ache."

"Have you visited Ariel?" Paola asked.

He shook his head. "I asked, but she's in seclusion. We spent a lot of time together. I'm not sure she wants to see me again."

"She's been sweet on you for months," Paola said.

"We've been lovers," Martin admitted.

Paola raised her eyebrows. "Better than having cords squirm all around you," she said. "I'm glad it was me. Anybody else might have come unglued. Is Ariel going to join Rosa's people and go with Shrike?"

Martin shook his head. "I don't know."

"I'm thinking about it," Paola said. "You?"

"Hans got it done," Martin said.

Paola sucked in her lips dubiously, decided against arguing the point, and took his arm. "Let's go," she said.

Eye on Sky and the other Brothers resembled bundles of dry sticks. Recovery was harder for the Brothers; the cords had to heal themselves, which meant frequent disassembly and individual care for each cord.

Martin began to understand why war and conflict had played a much smaller role in the Brothers' history. Braids were not robust; their existence as intelligent beings was delicately balanced, and violence quickly reduced them to an animal level. Wars fought between cords could not last long.

So why did the Benefactors send them in the first place?

Because everybody deserves a chance at justice, no matter how slim the chance might be.

"We we congratulate you on survival," Eye on Sky said.

"We're sorry to see you leave," Martin said. He touched Eye on Sky's broad trunk. The Brother shivered but did not shrink back.

"I'm very sorry," Paola said.

"You can join us," Strong Cord said.

"I won't," Martin said.

"I haven't decided," Paola said.

"You, Paola Birdsong, would be very welcome," Eye on Sky said. "You as well, Martin."

"Thank you," Martin said.

"The destruction is frightening," Eye on Sky said. "Simply thinking of it risks disassembly. We hold such power now."

"If the moms let us keep it," Martin said.

"Will they?"

"I hope not."

"Where will humans go now?"

"We'll survey the system. See what evidence we can find.

The ships will scoop up fuel. Then… we'll explore. Find a planet we can live on."

"You will not return to your world, to Mars?"

"I don't think so. We'll vote on it, but by the time we get back, almost a thousand years will have passed. Nobody we know will be alive… At least, I don't think they will."

"Other humans have come to visit we us," Eye on Sky said. "Have expressed regret. Perhaps more will come with Shrikethan go with Greyhound. "

Martin didn't think, when it came right down to it, that anybody would accompany the Brothers. The mood had changed since the war.

"How many humans can you stand?" Martin asked with a faint grin.

"It is a problem," Green Cord said. Eye on Sky slapped his flanks with tip of tail—something Martin had never seen a Brother do to another. Green Cord expelled a faint odor of turpentine, then baking bread. Upset, propitiation.

"Martin, your presence would be good, as well," Eye on Sky said. "I we think of this, and to have you with we all us, that would not cause pain or upset, but linking and harmony."

Martin shook his head. "I appreciate the invitation, but I don't think I'll go with you."

Eye on Sky smelled of licorice and salt air.

"Polite disappointment," Paola murmured.

"Thank you for asking," Martin told Eye on Sky.

It was a dangerous time, but Martin could no longer be circumspect. He had survived too much, seen too much, to let certain small things go by.