“Maybe the Killers are staircase gods now.”
“I… don’t know about that.”
“Why should we listen to anything they say? Can you answer me that?”
Martin had no answer.
“They put you through a real gauntlet, ground you down. Just what I would have done if I were them.”
“We’re not them. They may be unfathomable to us.”
“Enough,” Hans said. “We need you to play a part. We need you to stall for us while we maneuver and prepare our weapons.”
“What weapons?” Martin asked. “Noach weapons?”
“It’s best we don’t give specifics… You might be captured. The longer you keep them guessing, the more time we’ll have to get our act together. You aren’t going to mutiny on me, are you, Martin?”
There was no humor in Hans’ voice, no trace of badgering. Hans believed this was a real possibility.
Am I going along with him against my better judgment, my own wishes?
“No.”
“You’ll ask for another meeting,” Hans said. “It’ll take a tenday for me to get everything in place. Plenty of time for you to learn more, salve your conscience.”
“I don’t think they’ll accept another meeting.”
“Try them. Give them hope. Play the right cards.”
“They’ll kill us,” Martin said.
Hans acknowledged that possibility with a slow nod.
“I’m not finished, with the information they gave you,” Hans said. “Maybe they’ll inadvertently tell us something important, something we can use against them. And if you’re right… maybe I’ll find something that convinces me, too. I’ll keep it in mind, Martin. I owe you at least that much.”
Martin knew Hans was pulling his strings. Hans knew Martin’s capabilities and limits, the limits of the Lost Boys and Wendys, even the Brothers, with a clarity that must have been difficult to live with.
“I’ll ask for another meeting,” Martin said.
Hans smiled, eyes widening. “You never disappoint me, Martin. I love you for that. Let’s do it.”
Ariel clenched her teeth; Erin floated beside Cham, face deliberately bland, Hakim beside Donna, George behind them.
“We’re not in the loop,” Martin said. “Not really. But I’ve told Hans we’ll play our part.”
“You didn’t consult with us,” Ariel said.
“No,” Martin said.
“You should have,” Erin said.
“I presented our views.”
“But you told him we’d go along,” Erin said.
“What else can we do?” Martin asked.
“Stand down,” Ariel said. “Encourage them to choose another Pan.”
“Hans may be right,” Martin said.
“We could put a name on what we’re going to try,” Ariel said. “We could call it genocide.”
“Bolsh,” Cham said.
“The potential for this is in the Law,” Hakim said. “We have sworn to uphold the Law. I believe it possible the Benefactors knew killer civilizations might hide behind such screens, and worded the Law—”
“We’re way beyond our limits,” Ariel said. “I did not travel this far to kill innocents.”
Hakim calmly persisted. “It is probable some Killers remain here.”
“We haven’t seen them!” Ariel shouted. Martin felt a pleasant tremor at her return to form; perversely, he found her more appealing.
“It was inevitable,” Hakim persisted. “No villain comes in black, screaming obscenities. All evil has children, homes, regard for self, fear of enemies.”
“I did not agree to kill innocents!” Ariel shouted. She spread her arms, opened her fists. “I don’t care what the moms do, or what they don’t tell us.”
“You’ve been a bit strong about the moms all along,” Cham said. “I don’t think they’re holding anything back. They’re building new weapons, snowing us how to use them—”
“Ah, bolsh, yourself!” Ariel said, face wrinkled in disgust. “I thought some of you would have the brains to figure it out.”
“What?” Hakim asked.
“The moms aren’t inventing new weapons! They’re not suddenly discovering new principles and applying them—what utter crap!”
Martin’s admiration quickly turned to irritation.
“They’ve known about these big, impressive technologies all along,” she said. “They just don’t want to show their cards any more than they have to. Nobody trusts us, nobody tells us more than we absolutely have to know. That’s the way it’s been from the beginning. If we want to believe we’re helping them develop wonderful new toys, who’s going to disabuse us? Not the moms.”
Martin’s irritation turned on himself now. He hadn’t even considered that possibility; and why not? Because there was no evidence for it; Ariel was reverting to paranoid suspicions. He preferred the direct—the easier—approach. Believe what you’re told.
She curled her knees and wrapped her arms around them, again like a little girl sitting in a window, weary, disappointed by Martin, by herself. “We’re getting ready to kill trillions of intelligent beings who might be innocent. We just can’t take that chance, and Martin shouldn’t have agreed for us.”
“He’s in command of this ship,” Cham said.
“Not true, not true,” Ariel said, closing her eyes, rubbing them, staring at Hakim side wise. “He shares command with Eye on Sky, and the Brothers are breaking with us.”
Cham looked at Martin. “She’s right.”
“They haven’t decided yet,” Martin said.
“That’s what they’ll decide,” Cham said with resignation.
Martin’s wand signaled. Eye on Sky requested a meeting.
“We have to make our own decision, whatever Hans says,” Ariel concluded.
In the Brothers’ quarters, Martin hung from a net beside Eye on Sky. The Brothers coiled around them, cords’ skins gleaming in the offset lighting, the upraised foreparts of the braids casting shadows around Martin like a larger net. The presence of so many large serpentine shapes might have been threatening; but for him, the Brothers represented a gentleness and humanity Hans didn’t think they could afford. He felt no threat from them.
Eye on Sky splayed his head and crawled along the net closer to Martin, smelling of cut grass, fresh-baked bread: smells of strength and firmness, of assurance. “Listening to we our fellows on Shrike and Greyhound, we we decide there is a chance to learn more, and so will act with yours.”
“I should ask for another meeting?”
“Yes,” Eye on Sky said.
Martin chewed his upper lip thoughtfully. “Do you think the Killers are still here?”
“Perhaps not possible to know.”
“Some of us think we should have expected this problem from the beginning,” Martin said.
“Questions without answers. Expected, not anticipated in detail.”
“We were young,” Martin said.
“We all we are young, this problem is ancient. It eats we us as a sweet, with delight.”
“Will you go down with me?” Martin asked. He did not say this out of cruelty; rather, as a kind of test, as if he stood in Hans’ place for the moment.
“Not I we,” Eye on Sky said. “We we disassemble in that condition, that world. You have named it Sleep. For we us, it is a true kind of sleep. You must go for we us, if permitted.”
Martin took a deep breath.
“You are disturbed?” Eye on Sky asked.
He shook his head. “No, no more than… Yes, I am,” he reversed himself. “In a way, Hans is right about Leviathan. Everything we see here seems tailor-made to divide us, confuse us. If Hans is right, and the Killers are still here…”
“Not happy,” Eye on Sky said.