“What?” I asked, reflexively shifting my feet into combat stance. “What happened.”
“This,” Morse said, waving a hand vaguely around him. “You ever wear glasses, Compton?”
I frowned. Did incorporating the Modhri with the Melding cause the former to go suddenly senile? “Sure, when I was a kid,” I said. “Most doctors won’t work on your eyes until you’ve stopped growing.”
“I remember the first day I got my glasses, when I was eight,” Morse said, his eyes sweeping the room but not really focusing on anything. “I hated the thought of wearing the things, so I’d been faking it for at least four years. You know what the first thing was I discovered?”
“That the things pinched your nose?”
“No.” He gestured. “That trees have leaves. All the way to the top. Individual leaves. And I could see them.”
He smiled. “I can see clearly now, Compton. Or rather, the Modhri can.”
“I’m happy for you both,” I said cautiously. It couldn’t be this easy. It couldn’t possibly be this easy.
Only, apparently, it was.
“We need to get you and your people to Yandro as quickly as possible,” Morse went on, the sense of awe in his voice giving way to brisk professionalism. “Compton, I saw five tenders at the station back there—are those for us to use? Four per tender would mean twenty of them could go now, plus as much coral as they can squeeze in—”
“Whoa, whoa,” I cut him off. “Let’s pause for a minute and think this through, shall we?”
“What’s to think through?” Morse countered. “You were right. It works. We need to get some of this coral to Yandro and start getting the segment-prime up to speed.”
“Don’t dampen his enthusiasm, Compton,” the Jurian said. I’d never heard a Jurian sound chiding, but this one managed it. “For the first time he sees what he’s been missing. He’s eager to share this discovery with the rest of himself.”
“Yes—the leaves on the trees, and all that,” I said, thinking fast. I’d expected the trip from the station to the Melding’s hideout to take considerably longer than the three and a half hours it actually had. If we started back now, my timing was going to be dangerously off the mark. “But that doesn’t mean charging blindly ahead,” I went on. “There are logistics to consider—how much coral, who goes, what happens to everyone who’s still here. Once we get to Yandro, what then? Does everyone head inward to the planet for direct contact with the Modhran coral, or does the segment-prime send some Eyes out to meet with the Melding?”
“Good questions, all,” Morse said, his forehead creasing. “And all of them except the ones about numbers and coral tonnage can be worked on en route.”
“And besides that, I’m tired and hungry,” I said.
“Two issues I believe we can solve,” the Jurian said gravely. There was movement at one side of the group.
And our old friend Rebekah Beach stepped out into view.
It had been less than six months since Bayta and I had said our final good-byes to her back at the unfinished Quadrail station. But even in that brief a time, the girl had undergone a dramatic change. She was noticeably taller, as generally happened with ten-year-olds. She’d also cut her hair into a shorter style, one that suited her face better than the old one had.
But more impressive than her physical changes was the new air of calmness and maturity that hovered around her. Back when we’d been running from the Modhri, Rebekah had tried very hard to be all grown up, to face the danger and uncertainties as best she could. But those efforts had been only partially successful, like a set of ill-fitting clothes she’d hastily thrown on.
Now, after only a few months, I could see her wearing those adult attitudes and responsibilities like a tailored suit.
Back then, I’d wondered whether the Melding colony within her had cheated her out of her childhood. Apparently, whatever forces were at work in her were well on their way to depriving her of her teen years, as well.
Which, as I remembered back to that period in my own life, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
But despite all that maturity wrapped around her, I could see a hint of the excited child shining in her eyes as she saw Bayta and me.
Not that that kind of excitement was solely the province of ten-year-olds. I was still only halfway through my observation and analysis when Bayta broke from my side, hurried forward, and attacked the girl with a huge bear hug.
“Rebekah will take you to a room where you may rest,” the Jurian continued. “Meanwhile, we’ll prepare food for you.”
I inclined my head to him. “Thank you.”
“Any idea how long this nap of yours is going to take?” Morse asked.
“A few hours,” I said. “Maybe more. It’s been a long time since I felt genuinely safe, and I’ve got a lot of sleep to catch up on.” I turned back to Bayta and Rebekah, who had now disengaged from their hug and were talking softly together. “Whenever you’re ready, Rebekah,” I added.
The girl gestured to a line of unoccupied floor that had opened up through the crowd behind her. “This way,” she said. Her eyes shifted to Terese. “Would you like to come with us, too, Terese?”
“That’s okay,” Terese said. “I’m not very tired.”
“Could we talk, then?” Rebekah persisted.
The question seemed to take Terese by surprise. “About what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nothing special,” Rebekah said, her air of calmness faltering a bit. “Just about … things.” She hunched her shoulders. “There isn’t anyone else aboard even close to my age. I just thought we could … just talk, that’s all. Or maybe listen to music. There isn’t much Human music here. Do you have anything modern with you?”
“Some,” Terese said. Her voice was still wary, but I could hear her warming to the idea of having some company that wasn’t Bayta, Morse, and me. Especially that wasn’t me. “You like Adam Pithcary?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him,” Rebekah said. “But I’d like to. Come on, we’ll show Mr. Compton to his room and then we can go to mine. Wait’ll you hear my player—it’s really good.”
She took Terese’s arm, and the two of them headed toward a door in the hangar’s rear. It looked a little odd, the little girl leading the teenager, but somehow seemed both right and proper given their different personalities. Bayta walked behind them, hanging back to give them some space, and I dropped into position a couple meters still farther to the rear.
We were walking down a beautifully decorated corridor when Morse caught my arm. “We need to talk,” he murmured.
I slowed down, letting Bayta and the two girls gain some distance on us. “What about?” I asked, turning to face him.
“About why you’re stalling,” he said, his eyes digging into my face like twin entrenching tools. “You just ate three hours ago, and you can sleep all you want on the way back to Yandro.”
“I already told you I don’t sleep well when I’m in danger,” I reminded him.
“That’s a bloody load,” he bit out. “And you know it.” He leaned in a few centimeters closer, getting right up into my face. “What are you up to, Compton?”
I considered introducing him to the deck, decided that a public scuffle wasn’t really what we needed right now. “I’m trying to win a war,” I said instead.
“Are you?” he countered. “You do realize, don’t you, that every hour you stall us out here gives the Shonkla-raa an extra hour to bring in more of their numbers.”
“It also gives them another hour to scatter frantically to the four winds looking for us,” I said. “Remember, they have no way of knowing how far we were going to go once we left Sibbrava.”
“You sure about that?” he asked darkly. “I understand Osantra Riijkhan offered you Earth’s safety in exchange for your help.”
In other words, had I betrayed him and the Modhri when they weren’t looking? “Yes, he offered,” I said. “I didn’t say yes.”