Jocelyn’s dash and Cermo’s confidence in the face of what seemed utter disaster had extracted Family Bishop with deft timing. Killeen knew well the difficulties of such a maneuver, the most intricate of all tactical feats. He had decorated both officers.

None of their work on the ground would have meant anything without Quath’s help, of course. She had steered the sleek Flitter craft down to the surface, understanding that the Family had to be kept intact.

In the warfare between Cybers a mere band of fleeing humans was now irrelevant. The Flitters had managed to get off again with the Family aboard. No one fired at them.

Some members of the Tribe had rushed toward the shuttles when they saw the landings. They had gathered at the Bishop perimeter and begged to go, too.

Killeen had been adamant. He could not trust anyone from a Tribe already infiltrated by mech-ridden humans. They had taken most of Family Seben and some other ragtag elements of the Tribe. But once aboard, each was carefully inspected. Three proved to have mech inlay riders in their skulls.

They were killed. The decision had been a bitter one, but he had to make it. For a while he tortured himself with the admission that the decision was easier since he had not done the killing himself. But Jocelyn and Cermo had carried out his wishes without hesitation. In many ways, he reflected, they were tougher than he could ever be.

We have word which may reconcile you to the outcome, came Quath’s diffuse message.

The bulky alien was inside the ship, but that did not impede communication between them. Killeen still did not know how this was done and expected he never would.

The alien did not speak in clear sentences. Killeen had to frame the filmy impressions he received into something resembling words before he could fully comprehend. It was like groping through a fog while fitful chill breezes struck you in the face. Each touch brought new comprehension. Equally, each brush left unanswerable questions in its wake. And the mist remained.

Killeen could not follow Quath’s meaning. “How so?”

The Tukar’ramin now prevails in her struggle. Remnant elements flee. The Illuminates of good spirit shall emerge triumphant.

Much of this gave Killeen only a diffuse sense of the vast events playing out around New Bishop. He knew now, after only days of direct communication with Quath, that he would never fathom all the alien tried to convey. Much of Quath’s explanations were unintelligible. The Illuminates were superior intelligences, apparently, but not above resolving disagreement by force. Killeen’s task was to see that their conflicts did not casually and unthinkingly destroy his Family.

“How’s that affect us?”

The Tukar’ramin will guarantee that those of your kind left behind shall be allowed to live.

Killeen sent Quath several questions before he was sure this was what the alien meant. When he finally believed it a weight rose from him. While Family Bishop owed the Tribe a debt for taking them in, that had been canceled by His Supremacy’s betrayal. Still, he was glad that the vestiges of humanity left behind could survive.

“Send my thanks,” Killeen said. The words were inadequate but he knew that Quath sensed his true feelings and would convey them to whatever the Tukar’ramin was.

Hope rose in him. “Does this mean whatever’s followin’ us’ll stop?”

This time the answer was clear:

No. The renegade elements launched this attack ship after us as one of their final measures. It cannot be recalled. When it comes within range it will fire.

“You can deflect whatever it’s got?”

Once, perhaps twice. Not for long.

Quath’s answer came laced with somber forebodings. The alien hoped and feared, but other emotions which Killeen could not name flowed beneath the surface. They seemed more like quick bursts of separate lives, fragments of possibility. He was never sure which facet of Quath he spoke to. Sometimes the alien was extraordinarily patient. Other times he felt as though he were talking to a harried servant while the master of the house was preoccupied elsewhere.

But at least the alien’s nature might slowly unfold. Other riddles would never be answered. Killeen amped his opticals and could just barely make out the rim of New Bishop. The Cyber warrens were huge now, a belt circling far out from the planet. Could such massive mazes truly clasp and tame the energy of a whole sun? The task seemed daunting even for creatures who could suck to cores from worlds.

A still deeper puzzle spun at the rim of New Bishop. Slow movement told him that Skysower churned on. More shadowy mystery.

He would never know if that entity was a natural consequence of life or an engineering construct made by beings of ancient and daunting ability. He could scarcely believe that it carried out such massive purpose while obeying the timeless commands of embedded chemistry and genetics. Such complexity seemed impossible without intelligence. Yet Killeen had to admit that he knew nothing of events on this scale. As a lower-order intelligence, he was surely no good judge of limits.

—That Cyber ship’s fired somethin’ at us,—Shibo’s clipped voice came to him.

Killeen called, “Range and time?”

—Can’t tell. Closing fast.—Her voice still sent a pang through him.

“What’s… what’s it doing?”

—More dodging, looks like.—The Shibo Aspect was crisp and efficient. He had to remember that she had not truly suffered her own death and its aftermath. This Shibo was the woman who last remembered being scooped up by Quath. She would be that person eternally.

“Crew ready at locks?” he asked.

—Yessir,—Jocelyn answered.—Suited up.—

“Check the seals again.”

—Done that already.—

“I said again.”

Jocelyn had been subdued since she and Cermo returned to Argo. Her leadership during the Family’s escape from the Tribe had partly repaired the antagonism between her and Killeen. Once aboard Argo she had mutely accepted Killeen as Cap’n, never asserting herself. Still, Killeen knew that Jocelyn’s ambition had been damped but not destroyed.

A pause. “How’s it going?” he prompted.

—Uh, we found a small problem.—

“What?” he demanded impatiently.

—Seal is broken. We’re patching it again.—

The chagrined note in Jocelyn’s voice gave Killeen a small, pleasurable smile. He had made all crew that could be spared from crucial ship operations work incessantly on the sewage-soaked corridors. The elements of Family Seben and other Tribal remnants had been rebellious, but he had sternly broken their resistance.

Someone had to do the job, after all. Quath had blundered through Argo while it was abandoned. She had found the Legacies but in the process had opened the deck where the plumbing had malfed. Now the mess covered three decks. They had sealed off the offending zone, using vacuum-worthy sealants.

The irksome task had consumed much labor which might have gone into erecting defenses… though it was unlikely that any puny human weapons would count much in the coming encounter. Argo had nothing beyond simple shields.

The approaching Cyber missiles might be fooled by Quath at first, but she was sure they were intelligent weapons. That meant each incoming missile learned from observing the one before it. If Quath failed…

Killeen tried to catch a glimpse of the approaching enemy. “Shibo! Let me have the grid.”

Her quick response sent a crosshatched picture into his left eye. Three winking red dots trailed Argo, swelling visibly.

Killeen went back to normal sight. He had chosen to meet their fate while out here, where he could see and judge with his own eyes. Electronic helpers were all very fine, but some sense of human dignity demanded that he use his own capabilities now. A Cap’n should judge from his own experience.