Back in the Fetch, Badim and Aram watched the screens anxiously, switching around to a number of different cameras to see it.

“They’ve gone crazy at the dock,” Aram said at one point as they left for a meeting. “It’s a mess. I don’t see what we can do.”

A meeting of the councils had been called in Yangtze to discuss the situation. Some felt they needed to discuss what to do now that Aurora was revealed to be poisonous to them. Discord would continue until they had a plan, these people said. Aram and Badim weren’t so sure, but they went and listened.

When the meeting in Yangtze began, the people in charge of the sealed dock floated back to the A spokes, and at Freya’s urging, they and everyone else in the spine descended to the biomes. Most of them went down Spoke Three and headed directly to the meeting in Yangtze, so it seemed that calling the meeting had indeed helped to clear the spine. Even if it did nothing else, Badim remarked, it had been good for that.

In Yangtze there was a big crowd gathering in the central plaza. The main speaker at first was Speller, who had become one of the leading figures in the engineering group after Devi’s death. And in fact he began by insisting that the ship’s biomes were fundamentally healthy. “The ship’s biosphere is a self-correcting entity,” he said. “It can endure for centuries, if we just let it self-correct. Our interference has been impeding its ongoing homeostatic process. We only have to resupply it with the volatiles we’re short on, and we’ll be good to continue to a more hospitable planetary system.”

At the back of the room Aram shifted toward Badim and said, “Do you think he means it?”

“Yes,” Badim said.

Certainly it seemed so. “The ship got us this far,” Speller went on. “It’s a life-support system of proven robustness. It will last for centuries more, if we take care of it, which means mostly staying out of its way. All we have to do is restock the elements we’re running low on. All those elements are common in the Tau Ceti system. So there is no cause for despair. We can still find a new home.”

The nearby star RR Prime held great promise, Speller told them. It was just seven light-years away from Tau Ceti, an M-class star with a full array of planets, including three in its habitable zone, which, as usual around M stars, was closer to its star than Earth was to Sol. The planetary system there had been discovered in the 2500s, and though they were in possession of all the information the Terrans had had about it twelve years before, the fact was that not much was known about it. But it was quite possible this system could provide them with a home. “What else can we do?” Speller asked. “It’s clearly our best chance. And the ship can get us there.”

But many others were now arguing for Tau Ceti’s Planet F’s second moon. It was a nearly Earth-sized moon, like Aurora, but denser. It was tidally locked to F, and rotated around F in almost exactly twenty days, so it was not much different from Aurora and E in that regard. It was a rocky moon, and completely dry except for a little comet-impact water ice. Up until now it had been presumed to be lifeless, being almost free of water. But the experience on Aurora had made them more uncertain in judging this matter. Some people pointed out that meteorites had to have been ejected from Aurora by asteroid impacts, and some of them cast up the gravity well to land on F’s Moon 2. That such rocks could have successfully transferred the Auroran life-forms, given the lack of water and air on F’s moon, seemed unlikely, but it could not be entirely ruled out. Life was tenacious, and the pathogen on Aurora was still not understood. Even naming it was a problem, as some called it the cryptoendolith, others the fast prion, others the pathogen, and others simply the bugs, or the thing, or the stuff, or the alien, or the whatever.

Be that as it may, F’s Moon 2 remained a real possibility in the minds of many of them. “Water can be imported to it,” Heloise said in all the meetings. She was a leader in Ring A’s ecology group. “F’s Moon One is an icy moon, we can move that water over. We can build underground stations to start with, then expand those while the process of terraforming gets started. Then domed craters, then tent cities. It can work. It was part of the plan all along, after all. The backup if Aurora didn’t work out. And then there wouldn’t be the need for another interstellar trip, which is good, because it isn’t certain the ship will sustain that. This was always the secondary option, and now we need it. And it can work.”

Aram didn’t believe this, and stood up to say so. “It would be like living in the ship,” he said. “Except we would be buried in the lithosphere of a rocky moon. After that it would take many hundreds of years, or more likely thousands of years, to terraform this moon, and during that whole time we would be confined to interiors like these biomes. The problems plaguing us here would plague us there. We wouldn’t live long enough to reach the time when we could move out into open air. Our descendants would get sick and die. They would go extinct.”

This pessimism, or dark realism, whichever it might be, enraged Speller and Heloise, and everyone trying to make the best of things, trying to find a way forward. Why be so negative? they asked.

“It’s not me being negative,” Aram would reply. “It’s the universe obeying its laws. Science isn’t magic! We aren’t fantasy creatures! We have been dealt a hand.”

“So what do we do?” Heloise said angrily. “What are we supposed to do, in your opinion?”

Aram shrugged at this.

Freya called in to the meeting that was discussing the situation, from the spine where she was just now coming down, in the last group of peacemakers.

She said, “We should go home.”

Silence greeted this pronouncement. Air vents, electrical hums.

“What do you mean?” Speller asked.

Freya’s voice came through the speakers clearly, even loudly. “We should resupply the ship and fly it back to Earth. If we succeed, our descendants will survive. There’s no other option we have now where you can say that. It’s too bad, but it’s true.”

The people on the plaza in Yangtze looked around at each other, silenced.

Her idea, which she explained in the days that followed, had originated with Euan. It was also something Devi used to mention, she said. It was a good idea, she said. A workable plan.

Clearly it shocked people. In all that was going on, it seemed too much to take in.

Freya herself spent most of her time cajoling, and in certain cases physically threatening, people to get out of the spokes and stay in the biomes. Teams organized by the security council took over at every spoke lock, and began to work like one-way valves, allowing people to leave the spokes but not to enter them. Eventually a point came where it was possible to persuade or coerce everyone still in the spine and spokes to descend into the biomes. People then gradually dispersed to their hometowns, or gathered with like-minded people to make further plans. The individuals responsible for the deaths of the settlers in the dock slipped among their supporters, and those groups resisted any calls for a further investigation of what had happened. Clearly no one had wanted people to die, it was often said. It had been an accident, a disaster. Time to move on. Time to figure out what to do next.

Thus in a continuing tumult of the spirit, with many still grief-stricken, still furious, all actions possible to them at this point were in effect dumped on the table and inspected at length. It did not seem like the right time for this, but there was no stopping it either. It was the only thing worth talking about, given their situation.