The tentative conclusion was reached that they should wait and see. They knew nothing about the process the Traders intended using to obtain human culture. They knew little about Trader capabilities of any kind.
"What are we going to do?" Vaffa asked. "I'll admit it. I've never been as confused as I am right now."
"What do you mean?" Javelin asked. "Do about what?"
"About... everything! All those things they told us. Do you all believe them?"
Javelin looked helplessly at Lilo and Diana, genuinely puzzled. "What's got her so upset? Do you know what she's talking about?"
"Ah... probably she's concerned about... you know, the trouble that's going to be coming up."
"Trouble?" Vaffa squeaked. Her voice was getting dangerously shrill. "Trouble? You call the end of the Eight Worlds 'trouble'? That is what's going to happen, isn't it? Didn't I hear it right?"
"Yes," Lilo said. "That's what they said."
"Well..." She froze for a moment, mouth open, her hands suspended in a desperate grasping pose before she slapped them down to her knees. "Am I the only one who cares about it?" She looked around the group, finally settling on Javelin.
"Why pick on me?" Javelin said, slightly uncomfortable. "Sure, I don't like the idea of so many people dying. But they'll have a chance to get away, the Traders said that, too. All they have to do is take it. As for the 'Eight Worlds'..." She made a rude noise. "Why should I care? I'm not a citizen."
Vaffa looked to Cathay. He shrugged. "Do something, you said, right? Listen, I'll go right home and polish up my sword. Then it's you and me—I can count on you, can't I?—back to back and shoulder to shoulder against the Invaders—"
"Oh, shut up," Vaffa said. She looked at Lilo, and so did everyone else.
"It's going to happen," Lilo said, quietly, and Diana was nodding her agreement. "I'm sorry to admit this... but I don't really care. I don't love the government any more than Javelin or Cathay. Or you, Vaffa. You're dedicated to throwing it out and putting the Boss back in. But it doesn't matter. It's going to happen, that's one thing I'm sure of. I guess you people don't believe us, but we really did see into the future, at least as far as our own lives go. Many people are going to die. The Invaders will wipe out anyone who remains in the solar system."
"That doesn't bother you?" Vaffa asked.
"I..." Lilo was a little concerned about that, herself. But the answer was clear. "No. It's like... like it's already happened. I've already seen it. We can go back and add our story to what the Traders are already broadcasting, do our best to convince people to get out. But many won't. And that's the most we can do. It's inevitable."
But Vaffa could not accept that. Lilo looked at her, closed her eyes and tried to remember her. There was a change coming, she was sure of it. Vaffa was about to overcome her limitations—was she Tweed's child? Lilo seemed to recall that Vaffa would eventually tell her that. But she was no longer sure of much about the future. There were bits and pieces that usually did not fit together. She knew Vaffa was now wondering if she had done her job well for the Boss. But at the same time doubt had crept into her mind. Diana's story had impressed Vaffa more than anyone. For the first time, she saw the Invaders as real things, not as cardboard enemies.
But for the time being, her loyalty was still to the Boss. It wouldn't do to tell her that he had been forced to flee Luna as a direct result of the actions of another Lilo and Cathay.
The conversation went on, but Lilo ignored it. She was watching her other self, her clone, and the clone was watching her.
"I remember Makel," Lilo said, softly.
"And I remember Javelin when she was a much thinner person." Diana smiled, and Lilo returned it. "I also remember the impact of Vengeance, and being killed by Vaffa."
"Come back to my room," Lilo said.
Once settled in the bunks, facing each other, they didn't say anything for a long time. The voices from the solarium were like the buzzing of a fly. They were discussing the events of the last few hours, while Lilo felt very much above it. She still retained parts of her transcendental experience, her glimpse of the way things had been, were, and would always be. She knew she had a long life ahead, but the details were blurred and fading.
"It's going, isn't it?" said Diana.
"Yes. I just remember the high points of your past, and the other... this gets confusing, doesn't it. To talk about."
Diana smiled.
"I can't remember too much of the future," she said.
"Just an impression that it's going on for quite a while. For each of us."
"Yes."
They were quiet again. Lilo had the sense that something had not been said, but knew it would be. She looked at the silver cube in Diana's hand. It looked ordinary enough.
"Can I see that?"
Diana looked at it, as if she had forgotten it was in her hand. She tossed it to Lilo.
It traveled a meter from her hand, slowing down all the way, and stopped halfway between them. Lilo could not think of any force that could have slowed it down; in weightlessness it should have moved in a straight line until it hit something. Nevertheless, there it floated.
She reached out and took it. It resisted her slightly. It seemed to prefer being motionless, though not with any great tenacity.
"What does it do, I wonder?" Lilo asked.
"You think we should fool with it?"
Lilo was holding it close to her face, studying it carefully. She had thought there was a slight discoloration on one side and was picking at it with her thumbnail. "I won't, I just want to—"
It unfolded.
It was not an easy thing to watch; it was not a matter of sides detaching themselves or opening up in any way. It was larger cubes evolving themselves from smaller ones until she had what she thought was an unsteady stack of eight, but which turned out to be just one hypercube. Lilo drew her hands back in dismay, and the thing floated.
"Uh... what should I do now?"
Diana moved around it, craning her neck to get a closer look without touching it.
"You think we can put it back like it was?"
Lilo reached out. Evidently the arrangement was unstable. The singularity moved again as soon as she touched it, and it became a simple cube again, but with sides of ten centimeters. It now had eight times its former volume.
"I thought I almost saw how it was done," Diana said. She took the cube, but before she could try anything it had started folding again. This time it was inward, but when it was done she ended with two five-centimeter cubes.
"Maybe we ought to leave this to the mathematicians," Diana said, and set them carefully on the bunk beside her.
"If we learned how to use it, it would save Javelin a lot of fuel on the trip back."
"Hm. Well, I think we'd better ask her first."
Diana looked at Lilo, then looked away again. But her eyes were drawn back.
"I... the details are getting fuzzier. About what's going to happen to us, I mean."
"Yes?"
"But I have... well, do you have the same memory that I do? You and I were... together a great deal. I remember that you seemed to be involved in most everything I do from now on."
"Yes." Lilo relaxed even more. She couldn't have been wrong about it, but it was nice to hear that Diana remembered the same thing. There was now very little left of her memories of the future: dream glimpses dissolving as she examined them, impressions rather than memories. What was left was vivid and real, but like flash-frames on a film or odd pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.