Many thousands of years passed before the final stage in the great beast’s growth to maturity began. The last, most complex gene sites deep within the original biological substrate began to replicate themselves.

Intelligence is, finally, in the eye of the beholder. The actions which followed would have seemed to observers to be obvious evidence of problem-solving and creativity on a scale, and at such speed, as to completely prove the guidance of a considerable mind.

Perhaps the cells that directed the vast bar-beast still farther sunward were, by now, a mind. Here distinctions turn on definitions, not data.

The beast had decided on its final destination long before: a planet with abundant liquid water.

The beast was immensely long by now, grown to a third of the target planet’s radius. To the eye of an inhabitant of the planet, though, it was very nearly invisible—because the vast brown-black construction was only slightly thicker than the original comet-beast. Indeed, a dab of ice still clung to the exact center of the immense cable. Caution dictated that the beast always have a reserve.

Still, as the planet swelled from a dot to a disk, more mirrors deployed behind it—a precaution against defense by possible inhabitants. None rose to meet the beast. Mechs had not yet come to the world, and the lesser life which dwelled there probably did not give even passing attention to the slim, dark line in the night sky.

Still, a few small asteroids did pass momentarily across the face of the planet. Ever cautious, the beast focused its great mirrors. The offending motes fused into slag.

The beast always erred on the side of prudence. Still, its greatest risk now yawned.

With grave deliberation, mass-drivers began to fire all along its length. They slowly flung away the last reserves of useless slag, subtracting orbital angular momentum. This planet did not have a moon, so the beast could not undergo repeated flyby encounters to lose its momentum. Instead, decades of careful navigation brought it closer to the world.

The grand moment came at last. The nub end of the bar-beast swept up the first atoms of the atmosphere. This sent complex signals through the superconducting threads that wrapped the bar. Something like elation triggered more rapid molecular transitions.

It tasted the tenuous air. This was wealth of a new sort: mild gases, water vapor, ozone. Especially broad leaves captured minute amounts and pooled them in great veins. Samples reached the core-beast and were judged good.

The land below lay ripe with life. This was the longordained paradise the beast sought. Now it began on the full task of its maturity.

The great bar began to spin.

*As you witness,* the Tukar’ramin interrupted Quath’s meditation, *the Illuminates know much of such objects.*

Quath had absorbed the yawning history of the beast in a glimmering fragment of a moment, faster than an eyeblink. The massive thing still plunged down the sky, framed against the glow of the revolving Cosmic Circle.

<It is safe? The Cosmic Circle will not kill it?>

*No, the Circle orbits much farther out. Your signal carries overcurrents of alarm, Quath. Why?*

<I fear for it!>

*Fear?*

<It… it is huge. Yet living! To fly so…>

*Do not concern yourself. This object was here when we came. The mechs had made no use of this odd, rotating thing. Perhaps they did not realize that it is alive—else they would have killed it.*

<Who made it?>

*This self-replicating form spreads naturally among the stars of Galactic Center. We do not know its origins.*

<So immense! What purpose has it?>

*None that we can see. What does brute life know of purpose, Quath?*

<Life always moves forward, if only to propagate itself.>

*This presumably does so. They have been seen near other planets. We have not taken the time to study them in detail.*

<But we must! They are grand beyond anything I have ever seen!>

*Surely you err.* The Tukar’ramin’s tone was suddenly cool.

Quath said diplomatically, <I meant, other than yourself.>

*Do not neglect the Illuminates,* the Tukar’ramin said formally.

<No, of course not. But still…>

Their conversation had proceeded through several microseconds as Quath peered upward in awe. <It is… wonderful.>

*Not at all,* the Tukar’ramin said condescendingly. *Such structures are a minor element in the greater equation of this world. I have news for you—*

<No! You see only size in this thing. I see… majesty.>

A torrent of emotion burst upon Quath. The terror and wonder she had felt so much lately now swelled to become a toppling wave, drowning her in sudden, wrenching currents. She felt, at last, what separated her from all the rest of the podia. Awe—simple and yet unendurably vast. It swept through her, cleansing and divine.

*Come, Quath, pay attention. There is grave, deep division between the Illuminates. Some Illuminates have seized podia here.*

<Seized? But so august a presence would merely need to make its will known, and any of the podia would gladly kneel in abject gratitude, to serve.> Quath repeated this timeworn homily while her overmind swirled with smoldering, long-suppressed impulses.

The Tukar’ramin’s acousto-magnetic profile took on tints and flavors Quath had never felt before. *There is holy conflict. Even the Illuminates are divided, and struggle against one another.*

Mordant hues conveyed the gravity of this revelation. <And they… war?>

*I do not understand what is happening. Some of the podia of our own Hive do not respond to my commands. They are carrying out purposes I do not know.*

Quath said sharply, <To what end?>

*Some of the Illuminates feel we should not pursue this aim, should not venture toward Galactic Center as yet. Certainly, they say, we should not do so using the unreliable knowledge gained from a lowly Nought craft.*

<And these Illuminates act against us?>

*Yes, I gather so.* Sadness and disbelief resonated through the Tukar’ramin’s rich spectrum.

<Who? Where?>

*Many, and everywhere.*

<Here? I am about to capture the Nought we seek, if I can merely sort it out from the swarms of them nearby. Give me time—>

*That we do not have. Find it! But beware others of your Hive—they act now for agencies I do not fathom.*

<I shall!> Quath said sternly.

But her bravado was a cover for her own churning inner world. She stared upward at the massive presence and murmured to herself, <All this talk of Illuminates, beings I have never seen—and now they fight one another! By what measure are they greater than this whirling thing I can barely comprehend?—whose majesty I sense with my every pore and membrane? No, there is error here. They see mere size, and that is the fulcrum of their world. What I seek is meaning. That I hunger for—far more than I need the pesky Nought.>

The fragile air filled with glorious notes.

NINE

Killeen woke in a puffy languor. He rolled over and found himself beside Shibo. She snuggled spoon fashion against him and he let the moment of lazy pleasure take him. It was a while before the restive minds of his Aspects nibbled at his sweet indolence, bringing forward the questions which he had put aside the night before.

The seed-fruit, that was it. Its aromatic wealth had swarmed up into him, canceling all the vexing voices, smothering his long-trained instincts of vigilance and nervous caution.

Partway through the celebration Shibo had said to him, “Good for you. For us all.” When he had only mildly agreed, she had laughed merrily and pushed his face down into a moist husk of seed-fruit.