"Not that big," Nemo said.
"Can you travel between galaxies?" J.D. asked.
"We are not so advanced."
Zev showed Nemo a representation of the Milky Way.
"On the other side," Nemo said.
The galaxy rotated. But its other side was dark and empty, for no human being knew what lay beyond the crowded stars and dust clouds of the galaxy's center.
"We don't have that information," J.D. said.
"I could show you. . . " Nemo said, then, "No, I cannot, because of your link."
Zev let the map fade. J.D. sighed, and opened her eyes, more determined to enhance her link as soon as she could.
"You've come a long way," Zev said.
"My people have."
A lifeliner scuttled into the chamber, trailing silk. Right behind it, Victoria swung around the edge of the curtain. Ecstatic, she strode toward Nemo.
"Nemo, your center-I want to know all about it! Is it neutronium? How did you build it? How does it make you move?" She switched from using her link to speaking aloud. "J.D., are you okay?" She dropped to her knees next to J.D. and put her arm around J.D.'s shoulders. J.D. leaned against her gratefully.
"Just tired," she said.
"My center's difficult to explain," Nemo said.
"Try me.11
J.D. could hear the dryness in Victoria's tone; she wondered if Nemo could.
"I mean difficult physically."
"How so?"
"Your link is like J.D.'s," Nemo said.
"It's too narrow," J.D. said. "None of us can take in everything Nemo could show us."
"Arachne and I could exchange information," Nemo said, "about my center, about the galaxy."
J.D. glanced at Nemo, then quickly at Victoria.
"No," Victoria said. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think that's possible." "Talking is enjoyable, but slow, and imprecise, and insufficient," Nemo said.
"Maybe . . . limited access to Arachne?" J.D. said softly.
Victoria twitc~,~d her head sideways, a quick, definite negative. Full access to Arachne meant access to Victoria's algorithm. Limited access .
. . who could tell how deeply Nemo might delve? The algorithm was the only thing Starfarer had, the only thing Earth had, that Civilization had shown the least interest in. Once Civilization possessed it, human beings had nothing left to bargain with.
"I'm sorry, Nemo," Victoria said. "That isn't a decision I can make myself. I'll have to discuss it with my colleagues. Do you understand?"
"No," Nerno said.
How could Nemo underst~ind' J.D. thought. All alone here, with the power to go anywhere, and do anything . . .
"Human beings and divers talk about what they do," Zev said. "And about what they did and about what they plan. Sometimes it's boring, but it's very serious."
Nemo touched Zev's forehead, then J.D.'s cheek, with one soft tentacle. The other two tentacles continued to guide the spinners around and around and around the edge of another pouch.
"I must think, and you must all talk together."
"Yes," J.D. said. "As soon as Satoshi and Stephen Thomas get back-"
"They'll meet you at the airlock."
It was the first time Nemo had interrupted her. J.D.'s gaze met Victoria's. Victoria looked thoughtful. J.D. felt stricken. She had been dismissed.
THE OBSERVERS' CHAMBER WAS A TRANSparent, flattened bubble attached to the side of the explorer spacecraft, with a clear view in every direction except immediately back toward the Chi. It was J.D.'s favorite place in the explorer. She sometimes sat out here all alone when they were traveling, just to watch the stars.
She took her place in the circle of couches. Her couch faced outward, directly toward Nerno's crater. Several hundred meters distant, above the crater rim, the variegated silken surface caught the brilliant light of Sirius and flung it outward.
J.D. felt too tired to talk, too tired even to think. But her colleagues back on Starfarer had been waiting for hours for this conference. It was not fair to ask them to wait any longer.
Zev and Victoria were already there, waiting for her. With her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her jeans, Victoria stood outside the circle, gazing toward Nemo's crater.
Zev lounged in the auxiliary couch to the left of JDA seat. He grinned at J.D.
"Nemo reminds me of home," Zev said.
J.D. stroked the young diver's arm fondly. His fur, so delicate it was nearly invisible against his mahogany skin, felt warm and soft.
"Nerno's not like anything back in Puget Sound," J.D. said. "Not anything like."
"I know. But he reminds me anyway. He doesn't look like he's been swimming in a long time."
"Nemo can't go swimming," J.D. said, a little impatiently. Imagine a being the size of Nemo, the size of the planetoid, swimming anywhere.
"Not now, " Zev said. "But critters like Nemo don't always look the same." Zev was right. Nemo could have gone through more than one form. Maybe that was why Europa called Nemo a squidmoth. J.D. added Zev's observation to the list of subjects she wanted to discuss with the alien being.
Through her link, J.D. reached out tentatively to Nemo.
"Nemo?" she asked. "I'm going to talk to everybody back on board Starfarer. You can join in, if you like."
She waited. She received no reply.
I know how Nemo feels, J.D. said to herself. I'd like to sit quietly all alone for a while and think about everything that's just happened. No.
First I'd like to get some sleep.
The image of Gerald Hemminge appeared nearby. The assistant chancellor of Starfarer also acted as the alien contact department's liaison to the starship.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "Everyone's anxious to start."
"In a minute, Gerald, thank you," J.D. said. "We're still getting ourselves together."
"Very well." As he turned, he faded out.
Stephen Thomas entered and crossed the transparent floor of the circle.
He had changed to a Starfarer T-shirt and a clean pair of long pants with the Starfarer logo on the thigh, unusually subdued clothes for Stephen Thomas. But he no longer looked as bedraggled as when he came out of Nerno's crater.
He stopped beside Victoria, but he did not speak and he did not touch her. He stared out the transparent side of the observers' circle, his gaze on Nerno's spiky curtains of silk. The severity of his hair, pulled tight and tied at the back of his neck, made him cold, and aloof.
J.D. wondered what he was thinking about. The alien museum, on a harsh little airless world not too different from this one, fusing and destroying itself as he watched? The collapse of the genetics department around him? The changing virus turning him into a diver? No . . . none of those, of course. He was thinking about Feral, wondering how the enthusiastic young journalist would have reacted to Nemo. He was mourning the delight Feral would never feel. Mourning Feral.
Then Victoria briefly touched her younger partner's hand, and they turned to join the circle. Stephen Thomas looked straight at J.D., completely expressionless, and she had no idea what he was thinking.
She glanced away, embarrassed to be staring at him, and blinked fast to clear her eyes of tears.
Victoria took her place in the seat across from J.D. Stephen Thomas sat at J.D.'s right.
Satoshi came in a moment later. He always moved so smoothly, so athletically: he nonchalantly carried two brimful mugs of tea. He handed one to J.D.
"Careful. It's hot."
"Thanks," she said. Trying not to move the cup, she leaned forward and took a sip so she would not spill it.
It was hot. She had to slurp it so she would not burn her tongue.
"You looked like you could use it," he said. He sat in his couch one place to Zev's left.
Now the members of the alien contact department were all in their places, quartering the observers' circle like the cardinal points of a compass. Zev broke the pattern, but J.D. was glad beyond words that he had joined the expedition, and grateful that Victoria had not objected when he accompanied her on board the Chi.