

Music on the  
Galactic Voyager

Kay Hemlock Brown

Copyright © 2015, by Kay Hemlock Brown

Published at _Smashwords_

## Contents

Prologue

Year 20: School Days

Year 23: A Wedding and a Planet

Year 28: A Disappointment

Year 31: Changes

Year 70: A New Generation

Year 72: Helen Finds her Feet

Year 72: A Concert is Planned

Year 72: The Collegeum

Year 72: Traveling

Year 73: Mission to A Star

Year 74: Planning for the Mission

Year 74: Launching the Cutter

Year 75: The Planet

Year 76: Checkup

Year 77: The Twins Tour The Ship

Year 77: Cutter Gamma Arrives

Year 78: Fears of Mortality

Year 78: The Planet

Year 79: Melanie Settles In

Year 80: Helen is Removed from the Vat

Year 100: Helen is Revived

Year 100: Project Helen

Year 101: Obstacles

Year 102: A Long Voyage

Year 102: Arrival

Author's Note

# Prologue

Helen had already presented the classical portion of her concert, playing the violin, the synthesizer, and singing. When Helen reappeared after the brief intermission, she had changed her clothes.

It was the same auditorium, the same audience, but there was somehow a more intimate feeling. She wore a brief denim skirt, and a heavy plaid shirt; her tightly curling blonde hair was braided and hung down her back in a thick rope, but the loose short hairs that invariably escaped the braid surrounded her head like a faint halo.

She had come out with only a small guitar, bowed to the audience briefly, and sat on the stool. Crossing her knees, she rested the guitar on her leg, tuned it a little, and adjusted the smaller microphone to the guitar.

"This second half, I want to sing you a few of the folk songs I have learned from around the Earth. Most people on our home planet do not have the privilege of traveling widely. Having made money as a young girl by—well, in various ways—I had the means to travel. I learned many songs, in addition to those that my mother taught me. Many of these, you young people must learn, and you must teach your children. Here is a song from the Navaho people, of a young man for his girl."

It was a simple song, one that made the audience smile, with an even simpler accompaniment. Then Helen sang a Korean Lullaby that had become popular when she was a teenager. There followed songs from India, Russia, the Ukraine, Ireland, Finland, Israel, Egypt, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Canada, Scotland, Mexico, Japan, New Zealand, and China. There were songs of African slaves in the US. Helen was almost a different person; the songs were living things, with their own life, and Helen seemed to come alive only when she described their backgrounds, and what they meant to her.

The audience was very quiet in this second half. Gone was the brilliance and the virtuosity. Gone was Helen the goddess. These songs she sang now made everyone feel that they could sing the songs themselves. She sang them simply, with feeling. Some of the songs, such as the Irish love song she sang towards the end, were beautiful songs, not as easy as the others she sang. But those were the exceptions. Most of the songs were simple ones, simply sung. Sometimes they were about injustice, sometimes about the destruction of war, sometimes they were about jealousy and murder. A very few were about being a child, and the wonder of it.

"This last song is about a country. It is about a country called Earth. You see," said Helen, "we only know to go forward. To us, on this ship, to breathe is to go forward. But it doesn't mean that we do not love our mother, the Earth." There was a pin-drop silence, and Helen wondered whether she was going where angels feared to tread. "Perhaps we love her most, because we have left her behind. This song is a plea for harmony and understanding. It says, there is more that we have in common, than what is different between us.

"I want to send you back to your homes with this thought: we're all made of the stuff of our planet. We are Earth dust, flying though space. When I was on Earth, when I was young, the songs of my people, the songs of the origins of my parents, the songs of Norway, and Sweden and Finland; it seemed to me that these were especially important to me! But I learned all these other songs, because I loved music. But now, I look back, and I see clearly, that _all_ people of Earth are _my_ people, are _our_ people. They are _all_ my songs!" Applause started softly, in a corner of the room, but soon it was taken up by everyone. Perhaps not all of them understood the emotions she was trying to communicate, but they applauded because she had made them love her. She was the Earth Woman, and she was all that was left of Earth, that they could think of as a memory of Home.

# Year 20: School Days

## Puppies

The little clearing was surrounded by tall trees, green and healthy. Soft daylight filtered down through the leaves, on two young girls playing in the clearing, watching the antics of a litter of puppies. They were about eleven years old, and dressed in colorful loose tunics and knitted pants with elastic cuffs, reminiscent of a bygone era.

"That's the one I like the best," said one of them, pointing. She had pleasant, rounded smiling features and softly curving lips, and her medium-blonde hair fell straight to a little past her shoulders. Her voice was soft and musical. Her grey eyes were startlingly clear, something her companion was too young to appreciate.

Her companion was a classic redhead, with dark curly red hair tied back in two pigtails, and a rash of golden freckles across her nose and her cheeks.

"Me too," said she, quickly, nodding. "He's the smart one." Their voices sounded very much alike; they had grown up together, and influenced each other's speech.

"Funny how we like the smart ones," said the blond.

"Well," said the other one, after a little thought, "I like them _all!"_

The blond sighed. She smiled at one of the pups who came over to her and wagged its tail. They were presently joined by the mother of the pups, a large healthy Collie, who had taken the opportunity afforded by the free babysitting to run a few private errands. She greeted the girls with a soft bark, and settled down. She was still nursing the pups, all six of them healthy, and she could only take brief breaks from them.

"Okay," said the redhead, "come along, Cass; back to work."

## School

_Work_ was a circle of computers in another clearing a short distance away. It was school; they were writing. The teaching scholar was a young woman of about nineteen, who was going round the circle of students, talking to each in turn. She did look a little unhappy, and the two friends exchanged glances; when Jeannie was unhappy everything was liable to be a mess.

A soft chime sounded from the computers, and Jeannie finished her round. Cass and her redheaded friend Alison knew how bright Jeannie was. Sometimes, though, she kept her impatience under control only with great effort. She never actually lost her temper, and she was never abrupt with the two girls, but they could see her seethe sometimes when talking to their companions, even if a harsh word never escaped her lips.

They stayed where they were for the mathematics lesson with Charlie, a middle-aged man with curly brown hair and a wonderful sense of humor. In addition to mathematics, he often regaled them with stories. To their surprise, Charlie declared that they were finished with math for the week, temporarily. "We've done a little extra all week," he said, "so that we can have a little fun today!" He had brought with him a little machine that played music. He played with the controls, and energetic music wafted out. It was rhythmic music, which made them want to dance.

"What _is_ it?" Alison asked, wide-eyed. Charlie grinned, and motioned for them to keep dancing.

A few minutes' walk from the little chain of clearings that served as classrooms, behind a line of trees, one abruptly came upon a door in a wall. Through the door, one entered a stairway that seemed to curve up gradually, into the sky. If you went far enough, you came to a bench, facing which was a window, heavily armored with a transparent material. And one could look out into black night of space. For this was an enormous space-faring vessel.

## The Galactic Voyager: Its People

The first twenty years had been uneventful. Once out of the solar system, even on a constantly accelerating ship there was nothing except the vastness of space. Only the nuclear furnaces of the ship kept it warm for the inhabitants. A number of children had been born, including Jeannie, born to one of the ship's nurses, Susan Hamer, of a father whose identity Susan never revealed. Susan was a highly intelligent woman. She adored her child, and watched with pleasure as Jeannie Hamer grew up to be a wonderful writer and poet, the pride and joy of her teachers. Charlie, who had gone on board as a young mathematician with a brand-new PhD at twenty-five, had become a mellow man, a kind of uncle to many of Jeannie's generation. There were others, young folk of both sexes, who had never known Earth, never seen its skies except in videos lovingly kept in the data banks. There was Julian, also a poet; Vanessa, an athlete and a painter; Greg, skilled at mathematics and computer science; twin girls Mary and Martha, who had specialized in science and now taught chemistry and biology. There were many more, and then there was Cass—Cassiopeia—born to a couple who had married on the ship: The Co-Pilot and Assistant Chief of Operations, Laura Hutchinson, and the head of the medical service, Jonathan Holt. Alison was the child of one of the service staff, Elizabeth McClintock of food services, who had also been a champion swimmer, and Ben Warren, the Assistant Chief of Security. The girls had been born only days apart.

Chief Hutchinson had asked to have her baby in the public delivery room. While she had been there, she had become friends with Lizzie McClintock, and even after the little infants had been taken to their homes, their mothers had often met off-duty, so that the girls had grown up together. Laura, in spite of a strong inclination to be reclusive and to enjoy the privileges of her station, had followed the principles she had been taught as a child: it was important that those highest in rank should cling to privilege as little as possible. She had to set an example to others in the governing elite.

What started as a matter of principle had soon become a matter of choice. Laura recognized the innate admirable qualities of Lizzie. There was an aristocratic bearing in the woman, in spite of her being nothing but a cook. It was a quality that came not from aloofness or pride, but from something that was revealed in the way she carried herself, the confidence she exuded, the way others looked to her for leadership.

Alison had inherited not only her mother's flaming hair, but also her dignity and her intelligence. Ben, too, was intelligent in his own way, though so far there had been no call for any great creativity in the security department.

## The Weekend

Life on board the _Galax_ _y_ , as it was called by its inmates, was organized in weeks. While the seven-day week was clearly an arbitrary choice, the project designers had decided to leave the week the way it was.

Cass and Allie often spent the weekend together, one night with the Chief and her family, one night with Lizzie and Ben. With the Chief, there was usually tennis on Saturday morning—the chief was also the tennis champion of her age-group, an unbelievably persistent and fierce competitor.

Afterwards there was usually a picnic lunch, and after that, movies, late in the afternoon. Sentimental Doc Holt always sighed heavily as he watched, wiping the occasional tear from his eye. The girls knew that Chief Laura was equally moved by the sights of Earth, but of course she would not allow herself to show her feelings. She always declared that it was important to be honest in how you showed your feelings, but somehow it seemed not to apply to her. She was full of principles, only some of which she actually practised.

This time, they had played singles, until the Chief had beaten them all, and then the Chief and Doc Holt had challenged the girls. Doc Holt was as bad as the Chief was good, and the girls soon had the Chief trying to play them by herself, to the embarrassment of poor Doc, around whom the Chief ran, getting both his balls and hers. But the girls had grown up watching the Chief, and could play quite well. Cass was serving to her mother, who was in the ad court.

"Okay, I'm going to serve really slow and wide," said Cass softly to Allie.

"Gotcha." That meant the Chief could tip the ball at a sharp angle along the net, or send it down the line. It meant leaving a hole in the defense, but they had done it before.

Cass served just as slow and as wide as she had promised, and her mother whipped the ball backhand with heavy top spin at a sharp angle. Cass ran to cover, while Allie reached out with her left hand and popped the ball right at the doctor. In spite of the Chief's cry, "Take it, Jon, for Chrissake!" the good doctor panicked, and hit the ball into the net. The girls hooted with laughter as he leaned on the net, glaring at them with mock venom. Cass called out thanks to him, which made her mother even angrier.

Serving to her father, Cass was sure of a point. It was a nice serve, giving him plenty of room to respond. She was very fond of her Dad, and hated to ace him. He returned the ball straight back to her surprisingly firmly, but Allie poached, volleying the ball at the foot of the Chief. Miraculously she picked it up and put it over the net, but Allie put it away easily.

The girls won the match in two sets, making the Chief furious. The longer it went on, the harder she fought, but luck was with the girls, and in the end she hugged them fiercely in congratulation. Cass Holt, of course, was the apple of her father's eye, and she could do no wrong. He picked her right off the floor, making her squeal. Over on the next court Stu Walters and Zak Rundgren were playing, and she would have very much preferred to keep her feet on the court while being hugged by her Dad. She sighed. Dad was Dad; he wasn't the intellectual type when it came to her. Allie's grin only made it worse.

Back in the house, they showered together, as always. They toweled themselves dry, and dressed in 'Earth clothes,' or the kind of clothes they saw Earth girls wearing in the videos: jeans and T-shirts.

The movie they watched was _The Sound of Music_ , a favorite of the Doctor's. He had talked about it for weeks, and they had finally gotten it. The movies were circulated on disks, which were made with archival data. The archives were on slow media, not suitable for viewing directly. After all, the ship had only early 21st century technology, not ultra-futuristic technology they saw on so many Science Fiction videos. The database contained nearly every movie that had ever been made, but was not part of the active data, unlike the encyclopedias and other texts that were available in an instant anywhere on the ship.

The children had been given a detailed background of the facts surrounding the movie, the invasion of Austria by the Nazis, the legend of the Von Trapp Family Singers, and so forth. The girls thoroughly enjoyed the movie.

"Oh, I wish there were seven of us! I _wish!"_ cried Allie, hugging herself, her eyes glowing. She wasn't a demonstrative child, but the movie had connected with some hidden need in her.

Cass was singing, "The hills are alive . . ." and the girls held hands and waltzed around, dreamy-eyed. The Holts owned a music record of all the songs from the movie, and the girls put it on now, and listened intently.

"I had forgotten how sentimental an eleven-year-old could be," Laura said to her husband, as the two of them worked on dinner.

"It's good for them," he said, smiling.

"They're singing along, can you hear them?" Laura asked, looking up at her husband with a smile. She enjoyed these Saturday afternoon cooking sessions far more than she would admit.

The girls were, indeed, singing along.

The project designers, the people who had conceived the _Galactic Voyager_ mission, had planned, for the most part, a balanced curriculum for the children on board the Galaxy, but music had somehow not been a part of it. Indeed there was plenty of recorded music on board, and movies, and musicals. What was absent were musical instruments, singing, performance. There was the perfection of the best music performed by the best ensembles on Earth, but evidently there had been a belief that the spacefarers would have no need to _play_ music themselves. Why bother, when the best was available at the touch of a button?

After supper, which was wonderful, the girls set out for the Warren-McClintock home.

"Mom," said Alison excitedly, "we watched _The Sound of Music!_ It was _fantastic!_ "

"Oh yes," said Lizzie, "I remember that one." She began to sing _The Lonely Goatherd,_ and the girls stared at her in wonder, and joined in. They knew it perfectly. The look in her mother's eyes made her seem young and dreamy-eyed to Alison, almost beautiful. She was not accustomed to thinking of her as _pretty,_ though she loved her mother very much!

After a few card games, they turned in. The next day they would go on a picnic, which the girls would prepare themselves, and hopefully they would meet up with some of their friends.

## Planet Sighted?

In the control room, on Monday morning, Chief Laura and The Old Man, Captain Wes Montgomery, watched the view screen.

"It's an interesting system," Jim Kelly the astronomer was saying, "but I don't really expect to see a planet."

After two decades—subjective time—of empty space, the _Galaxy_ was approaching its first star system. While the event had been anticipated by the scientific personnel from the very beginning, everything possible had been done to arrange for the shipboard civilian population to be distracted from it. The desire to find a habitable planet was so intense among the colonists, that the ship administration—understandably—feared the let-down that would follow a disappointment. In the early days, there had been chronic space-watchers, who were in the habit of looking out the observation windows on every segment, every free moment. But about a decade ago most of them seemed to have given up.

"So this is not where the planets were seen?" the Captain rumbled.

"Planets weren't really seen, Captain," Jim replied. "There's only indirect evidence."

The Captain shook his head slowly. He was sixty, now, and he feared that he would die without seeing a single planet. The trajectory of the ship had been designed to pass near as many likely systems as possible, rather than to intersect any particular system that had been confirmed to possess an Earth-type planet.

This was a G2-type star, with a gas giant that might become a star eventually. The telescopes showed the stars clearly, but all the scanning had revealed no Earth-type planets.

"We're approaching a planet!" someone was yelling some days later, as the girls looked up from the puppies. It was one of their friends, Jeremy Staples, a few years older than they, a big, bouncy childish fellow. "Aren't we? Cass, your Mom must have told you! Come on, tell me!" Soon there was a group of four boys surrounding them, looking curiously at Cass.

Now, Cass knew that they were approaching a star system, but there had been no talk of a _planet._ She had been told not to mention it to her friends, not so much to keep it _secret_ as to keep to a minimum just such speculation as Jeremy was indulging in. The position of the ship was depicted on the main display which was near the public meeting area, if anyone bothered to go look.

"We're approaching a star," Cass said calmly; "nobody said anything about a planet!"

"But there's _gotta_ be a planet," Jeremy said, stubbornly, and nothing they told him would make him change his mind. "You're lying, and they told you to lie, I know it!"

Cass went red. Alison punched Jeremy in the arm.

"Take that back, Jerry," she said, her voice quiet but menacing.

The puppies were lined up watching them from inside their little pen, barking in their squeaky little voices. "Cass doesn't lie, and her mother doesn't make her lie, either."

Jerry shoved Allie, and she winced; boys never cared where they shoved you. She punched him again, and this time she made it hurt. He glared, and moved clumsily to shove her back, but she danced out of reach. They shouted imprecations at each other, but the other boys hauled him away, and Alison glared at Jeremy until he was out of sight.

Cass sniffed, feeling her eyes tearing up.

"Call your Mom," Allie advised. Cass shook her head. "Okay, then _I_ will," declared Allie, her jaw set.

She dialed the bridge, and an orderly took the call.

"Bridge here."

"Is the Chief there?"

"Who's this?"

"Tell her it's Allie Warren."

There was an indistinct conference, and the Chief came on the line.

"Allie?"

"Chief Hutchinson, somebody just said that we were approaching a planet, and accused Cass of lying! They said that Cass had been told to lie."

"What? Who said we were approaching a planet?"

"Jeremy Staples. And he said Cass knew, but wasn't telling!"

The Chief sighed.

A little later, a female ensign came into the school area, and called Cass and Allie out, while their Chemistry instructor looked on worriedly.

"Who is this boy, and what did he say?" asked the ensign, a smart young woman who looked Malay—Indonesian or Filipino. Cass told her the details, with a shrug. After a few more softly-spoken inquiries, the young woman left them to their lessons. Shortly afterwards, a message came over the Public Address system.

The Chief addressed the ship at large. She explained that they were approaching a star, but there was no planet. "From this vantage, we can study the system with virtually no distortion," she said, "and there is no planet. If there were, it could not sustain life. We're going to swing past the system without slowing down very much. We'll be passing it for a year, and there will be all the time in the world to study it at close range."

And so the _Galaxy_ passed the first star on its journey.

## A Group of Heroes Returns

Several months later, once they were safely out of the near vicinity of the star, Cass and Allie stood with a large group of kids their age, staring out the window. In various places on the ship, other groups of children and adults watched enormous monitors. The view was split; one half showed five tiny red figures, and one larger orange one, making their way along a walkway attached to the outside of the ship's hull. The other half showed one or another of the figures close up, according to the fancy of a young lady who was in charge of the remote-controlled camera.

"They're at the airlock! Run!"

There was a general scramble on the part of the kids to see the heroes as they came through one of the airlocks situated near the hub of the _Voyager_. Gravity there was minuscule, and the girls who had worn skirts were shyly tucking them between their legs. The airlock door opened and there stood two girls, still in their airtight pressure suits, with only their helmets off, beaming at their audience. They panted with excitement as they made way for the boys behind them, and the enormous man who stood behind them all.

"It was _incredible!_ " said the taller girl, a rather fragile-looking brunette with bright, excited eyes. "It was _awesome!"_

"Where is it? Is there a lot of stuff?"

"The boys have it!"

"Here; its right here," said one of the boys, maneuvering an enormous mesh bag of packages into the hallway. He spotted a friend down the hall and grinned and waved.

For several minutes it was all confusion and excitement, as the five who had done the extra-vehicular activity answered numerous questions from their host of young admirers.

Every individual who had left earth on board the _Voyager_ had been allotted a quota of belongings he or she could bring on the trip. However, many of the less delicate and essential things had been wrapped in tough plastic, and secured in minimally-protected containers outside the hull. There they remained, at the mercy of every speck of space dust, and the blistering cold of space. There had been several attempts to improve the protection of these storage areas with different combinations of foil and plastic over the years, and now those aboard would be eager to know the condition of everything that remained in the external containers. The kids had been sent out with new materials to repair the abraded protection. Each of the young people had very specific lists of items to retrieve from the storage, and they had taken out with them some more items to be stored. One of the boys had used a video camera to record what was visible, and interested parties were planning what they would do when the next group of young folk went out on EVA.

The Spacewalk, as it was called, had become a tradition on board ship. Every young person who arrived at the age of 21 was eligible to go out on a spacewalk, to bring back from the storage-containers the numbered packages that his or her parents might have brought with them in anticipation of their children attaining adulthood. There were a variety of things in storage: clothes, books, memorabilia, sewing-machines, data devices, the silly things for which there was no space inside the pressurized hull. In principle, all unwanted stuff from inside the ship would be carried out to the bins, too, but the volume of outgoing traffic seemed a lot less than it should be!

For days, the EVA team had rehearsed the activity with Pete Barrows, the large black spaceman who was the EVA specialist. Pete was perfect for the job, having taken almost a hundred young people out on their celebratory spacewalk over the years, without a single serious accident. "It's not routine. It never will be routine," he told them every time. "Even if you don't make a mistake, something could come by undetected and finish you off!" During each spacewalk, a crew of four kept watch at different places on the extremities of the pressurized area, with motion detectors searching all around the ship for incoming space debris that could injure or kill the spacewalkers. There were automatic lasers that could vaporize small, slow-moving objects, and a metal deflector mounted on the nose of the ship, since the direction of highest probability was from dead ahead. Still, there was ultimately no defense against fast, heavy space debris from any other direction.

But once the tradition was started, every kid wanted to go on spacewalk as soon as he or she was twenty-one, despite the anxiety of their parents. For a week they would be celebrities.

# Year 23: A Wedding and a Planet

## The Wedding

Using the gravitational energy of the star, the _Galaxy_ shot out to the next system with increased speed. On board, life settled down to the slow pace of inter-star travel. All the excitement came from within, children being born, young people coming together to form families. When Jeannie married Greg, Cass and Allie were chosen as bridesmaids, and Jeremy and his friend Rasheed were groomsmen. Beautiful clothes were designed and executed by the experts on board, including Jeannie and Greg themselves. Jeannie was a wizard with clothes, and so was Greg, and they made the dresses for the girls, with Cass and Allie willingly helping them.

On the days leading up to the rehearsal for the wedding, and the wedding itself, Jeremy had eyes only for Cass, and she could see it. She didn't know what to do; Cass did not particularly like Jeremy. Not because of the little incident about the planet, but simply because Jeremy was such a baby.

Somehow, that evening, Jeremy got Cass seemingly alone. Allie was close by, but seeing what Jeremy wanted, Allie waited out of sight. Jeremy spoke to Cass with the urgency and the earnestness of a young man in love. He was around seventeen, and the girls were around fifteen; too young to be in a serious relationship, but not too young to understand what it was all about. Cass looked up into his eyes, and her color was high, and Allie thought, her heart like lead, that Cass would succumb to the romance of the day. Allie was too far away to hear, and she cursed.

Cass seemed on the point of tears. But gently, softly, she turned him away. She shook her head, she spoke eloquently, and Jeremy stooped to let Cass kiss him on the cheek. Allie faded into the potted plants, out of sight, as Jeremy walked away, his head hanging dejectedly.

## Another Planet

Then, unexpectedly, a few years later, the astronomy team told the Chief and the Captain that they had found a planet on their trajectory. "It's right on our present travel path," the astronomer said excitedly, showing them the view from above the galactic plane.

"How do you know? It's years away!"

The Captain was now completely grey, a mature 65, while the Chief was in her early fifties. She was still in wonderful shape, still played tennis, and was, if possible, even sharper than she had been at thirty-five, when Cass had been born.

"It's a whole system," the astronomer said. There were three of them, all come in to make the presentation to the Captain, all of them agitated. "There's a clearly visible gas giant, and . . ." he gave the floor to his assistant, a youngster of around twenty, one of Cass and Allie's friends, Sita Chawla, who had joined the astronomy team just a couple of months earlier. It was she who had seen the signs of the possibly suitable planet.

"It seems to be an earth-type planet—or nearly so," Sita said, "some six years in our future."

"This could be _it!"_ said Jim, unable to control his excitement.

"What do you mean, _it_?"

"Possibly the end of the mission! If all goes well, the ship need never leave this star!"

# Year 28: A Disappointment

Over the next several years, the ship went into high gear. The procedure when approaching a planet was complex; an enormous amount of long-range study would first be done, with probes sent ahead to sample the surface and the atmosphere, sending back the information that the colonization experts needed. Would it need to be altered to support Earth-standard life? Was there indigenous life? Was the radiation from the star tolerable? Was the climate hostile?

Meanwhile, Cass and Alison had graduated from the Academy, and had been taken into employment. Cass had been accepted into the Culture and Recreation Service, and Alison had been invited into engineering: Life-Support and Bio-Resources. Both girls were excellent students, and had stood out even among their naturally intelligent peer-group.

Cass had grown into a gracious, charming girl with the ability to command trust and respect inherited from both parents, and an additional measure of persuasiveness all her own. Culture and Recreation was a crucial service, since shipboard life depended on the intelligence and sensitivity of the C-R team. Cass was a natural leader, and C-R was pleased that Cass had chosen to work with them.

Alison was one the most promising biologists and chemists in her class, as well as one of the most serious about life-support and its challenges. Identifying her as one of the most important members of her generation, L-S & B-R had snapped her up before she could get ideas about other things she might want to do. That group maintained the "forests" in each segment, and watched over all the human activities that could impinge on the well-being of the ship as a single complex organism. After she finished her training, she would be sent on a tour of the ship, to gain first-hand experience of all the segments.

In anticipation of possible Planetfall, education became more structured, and specialty fields were taught to the young folks in the university. As the young folk began to study planetary science, the entire ship community was encouraged to become more technologically sophisticated. The pressure spiraled up and up, and some of them snapped. Then, to make matters worse, it was seen that the planet was uninhabitable. It was small and Earth-like superficially, in terms of its composition, but too close to the star. The decision was made to swing by the star, but not lose any energy slowing down.

## The Hippie Commune

The first inkling the leadership got that something was not quite right was that the Hippies began recruiting.

The Hippies were a group that had emerged very early on the voyage. They had demanded that the ship abandon all technology, except the minimum required to run the ship and maintain life-support. In particular, they utterly rejected the use of computers in education.

"It's technology that got the Earth into the bind it is in," said their leader David Braun. "It's coal, and steam, and gasoline, and uranium, and computers that dug the grave of the Earth! Look at these children, glued to their screens! Do you want to destroy them, too?"

At first, there were only six of them, constantly pestering the schools, demanding that the children be released into their care. They were all highly-educated people, quite capable of teaching the younger children, and, indeed, several of them were teachers. A few of them had quit from their jobs in education, the medical services or life-support. Then a few couples had joined them, with their children, and they had moved into a corner of the artificial forest that had been planted in the _segments,_ which were what the enormous cylinders were called. The forest served as the classroom for the ship, as well as a secondary oxygen source—the primary source was the vats of algae that renewed the air supply. So now there was a hippie 'commune' less than a mile from the school that Cass and Allie had attended, where the Hippies lived and had _their_ school.

Several years before, Allie and Cass had crept into the commune, and made friends with some of the young people there. The two friends saw how they had planted some interesting crops, including cotton and vegetables, raised sheep and goats, and the girls had found that the Hippies ate surprisingly well, a vegetarian diet with no synthetics at all. They wore homespun clothing woven on looms they had made themselves. But now there were aggressive elements among them, and the heavy recruiting had brought a mixture of types who knew little about the complexity of natural living. Surprisingly, there were many scientifically trained people in the little group, who were desperately trying to educate the others. Whereas when Allie and Cass had first visited them they had been open and welcoming, this weekend when they visited the commune, they encountered some unfamiliar faces that were hostile. The girls had to pose as Hippies from another commune for their own safety. Luckily, they had worn woolen skirts they had been given as gifts from an earlier visit. With some difficulty they found their friends.

"They think any outsider is a spy," said Art, their friend inside the commune. Art's father Brian was an art teacher for their school, and had always been one of their leaders, but one who was more moderate. Though he was as suspicious of technology as any of them, he was friendly towards non-Hippies, and against isolationism.

"We'd better go home, then," Cass said.

Suddenly, they were quiet. There seemed to be a big argument going on in the commune's main social area, a long clearing in which they had their communal meals. "Let's go see," said Allie, ever curious. She was now a tall, strong girl with thick, curly red hair that she wore in a tight braid, at the moment covered in a scarf. Art struggled to keep up with her, to run interference for them, while Cass followed more reluctantly.

"It's the computers that are most dangerous," someone was saying, with great conviction. "It's just too easy to introduce propaganda to the kids. Every little thing, every piece of information has a pro-technology bias! The kids are _constantly_ learning the official line, and learning it as if it was incontrovertible truth!"

"Yes, Ron, we know that. But we need the system to keep the ship running!"

"Yes, and you know what?" asked someone else. "As long as that thing controls the ship, we will _never_ make Planetfall. _Never!_ See, as soon as we find a planet, the _thing_ knows that it loses control! See how it steered away from the last system? It's picked up so much goddamn speed, we'll never slow down enough to find anything ever again! Just look through the viewport! See that streaking? We're going almost at the speed of light!"

"Joe," said another patient voice, "you need the computer system to slow the ship down. You need it whatever happens. We're not against the computer system. We're against _technology in daily life_. There's a difference!"

The talk went on and on. "They want to sabotage the computer," Allie said in a quiet whisper.

"No, they're not!" exclaimed Art, softly. "Are they?" They listened some more. "Yes, they are," said Cass, finally.

Art looked at her. "What are you going to do?"

Cass shook her head. "It's up to you," she told him. "If I tell— _anyone_ —about this," she said, indicating the discussion with her hand, "things will get worse! At least now they can't accuse the authorities of being hostile."

It was true; the Hippies had only been reproached for being disruptive, not reporting for work, etc. They had not yet been asked to disband, or accused of being subversive or terrorist.

Art looked worried. He was a handsome lad of about twenty-one, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, thoughtful and with wisdom beyond his years. "Wait here for me," he said quietly, and slipped into the crowd that was arguing. People looked back to see who was pushing through, and made way for him. If anyone could talk the hotheads out of this mad plan, it was he. The younger folk of the commune looked up to Art as an honest, level-headed fellow. He worked hard for the good of the commune and the ship, and had been a leader of a number of projects.

"Ron and Joe want to sabotage the computer system!" said Rebecca, one of the women whom the girls and Art liked the best. Art's parents were nowhere in sight.

"The entire system?" Art exclaimed, as if surprised.

"Well, everything that has nothing to do with essential sub-systems. It can be done!"

"But . . . explain this to me," said Art, red-faced. "Why sabotage the system?"

"Because the ship will never let them find a planet," Joe said firmly.

Art looked at Joe, and realized he was sincere. Joe truly believed that the Ship controlled their lives and their destiny. It was a kind of paranoia that was only too easy to slip into, in the situation in which they found themselves.

"The problem," Art sighed, "is that those kinds of decisions are taken by the crew alone. We aren't involved in them."

"Of course not!"

"Who will support me, if I go to the Chief and request that two of us from the commune should be allowed to sit in on policy decisions?"

## Art Wins a Say in Governance for Civilians

It was a bold idea. Thus far, the ship had been run as a military vessel, under control from Earth. They were far from Earth control in actual fact, since the mother world could not respond to requests for guidance in a timely manner in any crisis. But the authority rested in the hands of the Captain and the Chief, with advice from a very small committee. Thirty years into the voyage, surely there had to be some degree of democracy in the way the ship was governed? Many of those living now had been born aboard the space vessel without any choice in the matter, and could hardly be expected to subscribe to a dictatorship. The very computer education system that the Hippies despised, described democracy as the ideal in government, didn't it? But that wasn't what they _had!_

The girls felt hands on their shoulders, and turned to see Art's father, Brian. His eyes shone with pleasure at seeing the girls, especially Cass, who was a favorite of his. He gave her a fatherly hug, and then his face filled with concern at the racket his son was trying to calm.

Art was very persuasive. He asked for one last chance at negotiation, and a group to go with him. Cleverly, he asked for one of the newcomers to be one of them. In the end, a group of five was decided upon, two of the original leaders, Virginia Baker and Caroline Napoli, and Joe, David Braun, and Art.

"What if it doesn't work?" asked Joe, suspiciously.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Art said, firmly.

David nodded. He was a mirthless, austere man, but a generally peaceful one. He had based the commune on passive resistance, and deplored the violent tendencies of the new recruits.

The girls were quietly spirited away. This was no time for outsiders to be found in the commune.

Cass sighed as Alison massaged her neck and back as she lay in bed. It was the weekend again, but the girls had long since moved into their own apartments, though one of them was never used. To the ship, they were just close friends. No one, not even their parents, or Cass's siblings, knew they were more than that. Unable to face her parents that night, Cass had returned home with Alison. "I hope it works," she said, looking miserable.

"He's pretty convincing," Alison agreed. "And I know you like him!"

"Oh, stop," Cass said, smiling. "There's no need to be jealous!"

It was Alison's turn to sigh. "I don't think I am," she said softly, crouched over her friend, her hands kneading the muscles along Cass's spine. "I'll look after you both."

"At least, it's safe on the ship," Cass said. "There isn't the lawlessness and violence there was on Earth."

"So far," Alison said.

Art had called the Chief that very night, and she had taken his call. With most of the commune listening, he had asked for a meeting with her, and to their surprise, been granted one. "What about nine o'clock tomorrow, Saturday morning, in the assembly hall?"

It was a good neutral place, intended for meetings large and small. Art had accepted on behalf of his group.

Cass's phone rang. Allie rolled out of view with long practice.

"Hello?"

"Cass, sweetheart, something has come up. We'll have to cancel the tennis; this is important."

"Oh. Is breakfast off, too?"

"Hmm. I don't suppose so; come over, and bring Alison."

"What is it? What's the problem?" Cass asked, stumbling over the words. She hated to deceive her mother.

"It's the Hippies, Cass. Actually, it might help to have you there."

Her mother knew that Cass was well-liked and trusted among the Hippies. She had been appointed the director of recreation when the former director had died. Her mother quickly explained about the call from Art, and the concerns of the Hippies.

"Mom? I have to confess something," Cass said quickly. Alison had climbed off her, and they had put on wraps. The ship's temperature was lowered at night, and it was 'Fall,' and it was a cool 50° F at night.

"What have you been up to?"

"We snuck off to the commune this afternoon, and we were there when the subject came up."

"Good heavens!"

"It's perfectly safe, Mom. I can't tell you any more, but I'd take them seriously."

"You'd definitely better be there, then."

## The Meeting

Doc Holt greeted Alison with his usual smile and hug, and Annie and Ted waved a greeting. Otherwise, breakfast was a glum affair.

The Chief was unreasonably nervous about the Hippies. She had been wise in her decision to leave them alone; the instincts of the military and security types had been to clamp down on them firmly. Alison's father, Ben Warren, had initially sided with them, saying, pick them up and throw them in irons. But he had quickly realized that it was bad policy. "In the best of times, people hate not to have some control over their lives, Laura. In space, it's worse. They must feel as though they've been kidnaped."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"On yours, of course! But think, for a minute. Put yourself in their place!" And the Chief had listened.

Now Annie and Ted were quizzing Cass.

"What were they planning, sis?"

"I can't tell you that," said Cass, mopping up the remains of her pancake syrup. She had thought she was too upset to eat, but had put away three pancakes. Annie and Ted sat on either side of Alison, their hero. She was the segment champion in Judo, adored by all the younger kids. Even many of the youths of the commune were into the sport, and were Alison's friends.

Alison was fond of Ted and Annie in a vague kind of way, bringing them the occasional gift that found its way into their section from the more distant parts of the ship. The various parts of the ship had been made deliberately difficult to access from each other, to give the illusion of spaciousness. There were little subcultures everywhere, with their own preferred styles of recorded music, their own cuisine and their own clothes. The Temperate Segment contained the large temperate forest, with a colder coniferous section. There was a large segment that contained a rain forest and a bit of desert, and another segment designed to depict island cultures, and so on. As a result, a little Japanese doll was a wonderful gift over in the mainly European and North American Temperate segment.

Right on time, the two groups converged on the Assembly Hall. The Chief and the Captain, the leaders of the computer team, the navigation team and the geophysics team came from the Ship side, while Art and his group of five had been invited to bring a few more with them. Many of the Hippies had never met the Chief, and were taken aback at how unprepossessing she was. She was a stout woman with a rather severe face, her eyes intelligent and intense, but not without humor. The Captain sat next to her, looking thoughtful. The doctor sat some distance away, trying to look pleasant but uninvolved. Cass sat by herself on one side, her head bowed.

The Chief introduced everyone she had brought with her, and David Braun introduced his party, consisting of the original five members of the negotiating team, and five more.

"Let's begin," the Chief said. "I know your group has a generally anti-technology bias, but more than that I can't claim to know. Would one of you lay out your concerns, for the record? We'll tape the meeting, so that everyone can have access to what transpired. That way, none of us can be misquoted."

"We prefer to simply write down what was said, Chief Hutchinson," said David Braun, quietly. The Chief inclined her head, but said that she preferred to tape the meeting for herself.

David Braun began to quickly outline their position. The Chief nodded intermittently, as she took notes. Then Art took up the story, explaining their suspicions about the aborted Planetfall.

"It was very publicly announced why we were doing what we did," said the Chief, scanning the faces of the Hippies. "What more could we have done?"

Joe burst out that he did not believe a word of it. There was a planet. There had to have been a planet! The ship had hidden the planet from them.

That brought the discussion to a temporary halt. Sita, one of the younger astronomers, explained that there simply had been no usable planet. They were still close enough to view the star on the telescopes. Joe was invited to go to the observation station and see for himself. With great difficulty, Joe and Ron were persuaded to follow the young woman to the telescopes, so they could see directly with the optics, untouched by electronic enhancement.

It took a long time for the astronomer to convince the suspicious Hippies that they had been shown all the evidence. The young woman had confidently asked the marine who had escorted them to stay outside the entrance. He had glanced at the two men and back at her, clearly communicating his doubt. She had gone to him and spoken quietly.

"It's all right; I think I'm safe with them!"

The marine looked her over. He thought she had that irrational belief in logic that led scientists to make reckless assumptions. At any rate, it was not _her_ safety that was his main responsibility, though he did feel some worry that the men would hurt her in their madness.

"It's the equipment, miss. These fellows have been talking about sabotage. We have files on both of them." Her eyes widened with realization.

"We'll have to take the risk," she said quietly, her voice unsteady. "I think they'll listen if they're not being covered by weapons."

The only weapon the marine carried was a dart-gun; anything else could destroy irreplaceable electronics.

He nodded. They went into where the men stood, watching the door suspiciously. The girl and the marine realized that they were close to panic. They must think that security wanted to trap them and incarcerate them.

The girl walked right up to them and asked if they would harm her. They laughed, the slightly hysterical laughter that hid relief. No, they said, they had nothing to gain from hurting people. She turned to the marine and said he could leave them alone. But her eyes said: _wait outside the door._

Now, an hour later, they were still not quite convinced, and the girl was on the point of frustrated tears. She blinked at them helplessly.

"How do we _know_ that the planet is no good? How do we _know_ we're not looking at an altered video? Or maybe your computer is programmed to hide planets! What if even _you_ don't know that? What if you see only what you're _supposed_ to see?"

"No, sir, look, this is an old-time _optical_ telescope, see? These wires only run a little motor, to keep it aimed! I swear; this instrument cannot lie!"

The younger man looked in the eyepiece once more, and she felt hope rise in her breast. It had been her dream for years to play a role in defusing the tension between the Hippies and the Ship. Now she might be on the brink of a breakthrough. They trusted her, but they suspected she might be duped by the mysterious _system_ that they suspected of having subverted the entire mission, a kind of HAL 9000.

Suddenly the man shrank back.

"What was that?" he gasped. "Something came right at me!"

She laughed. "That's just some space debris," she said, and presently the man smiled with her. Suddenly she knew a better tack to take. "Look, see the haze around the star?" They nodded, looking through the sighting telescope. "Well, that thing extends as far around the star as the orbit of Jupiter, around Sol—you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," said the older one, "I know Jupiter. So it's a real big haze. And . . .?"

"Well, that haze contains many dangerous particles that make the planet uninhabitable. It's just not within our capability to establish a colony there; the ship would be damaged even on the way in!"

"How can you tell?" asked the younger one, but there was no heart now in his skepticism.

She grinned. "Lots of reasons, but . . . I think you believe me now, don't you!"

She felt a pang of sympathy as they hung their heads. Life in space was simply not suited to some of her generation. It must be torture to live inside this space-can, only seeing videos of old Earth, never to set foot on a planet except in their dreams. For her, it was a dull ache, one that she barely had time for. But for these, to find a planet was like an all-consuming madness.

"At least, we can _talk_ to you," said the older one, mumbling. He was not much older than she herself, perhaps in his mid-twenties. "Some of the folks in education . . . they're too smart to talk to ordinary people."

It was true. The director of education and the other leaders were a rather inflexible lot, and did not suffer fools gladly. "I know what you mean," she confessed.

"Do they listen to you?" they asked her.

"No," she laughed, "they've been experts since before we were born, after all; they knew all the latest theories of education when the ship left orbit! I'm nobody; I just do the planet-spotting. The computer can do that automatically, but . . . you know how it is! One of us is always looking; it isn't just you Hippies who want Planetfall, you can be sure!"

They gave her a long look, and when they finally smiled, she knew that at least on one point both parties agreed.

Meanwhile, the Chief was engaged in intense discussion with the Hippies. This confrontation had been brewing for decades, and Cass and Allie watched with fascination, not at the hostility of the encounter—it was not really hostile—but at the willingness of both parties to listen. She constantly reminded herself that all who had been chosen had been of superior intelligence, and of above average empathy. The close quarters of a space vessel required people with superior interpersonal skills. And as she listened to Caroline and Virginia speak eloquently against the computer-based education system, she began to see their point of view.

"But think of the savings in manpower, the savings in effort! How much faster they can learn! The computer knows precisely what to tell them next, based on their response! And it does it in a second, automatically! Think of the capacity of the machine! A human being can never remember so much!"

" _Worthless!_ It's all worthless! What our children need to know, we can teach them. Sure, a few need to know all that science! You need a few engineers, a few doctors. But why should every little child learn _all this mathematics?_ All this physics, this chemistry? Would you make computers of us all?"

"But Ms. Baker, _this_ is our world, now. It may be decades more before there's Planetfall. We need to make sure that, when you and I are too feeble to do the technical work the ship depends on, that there will be people, ready trained, to take over. This is the largest vessel ever built, the most sophisticated, and you do not prepare to keep it running by learning to _knit,_ let me assure you."

"No. You must not make our children slaves to the computer. _You must not do that."_

There was such force in the woman's words that the talk stopped. She was trembling. She got to her feet. "Chief Hutchinson, to you, the schooling of the children is a mere convenience. To you, this whole enterprise is simply a kind of factory, to keep this ship running efficiently until the remnants of its passengers and crew can be spilled onto some habitable planet. But what will they be when they get there?" Her voice vibrated with passion. No one noticed the young astronomer return with her new friends. "What culture will they take with them to that innocent planet? The culture of computers, of cars, of pollution, of bombs, of guns, of dammed rivers, drowned valleys, poisoned seas?"

Suddenly, Caroline clutched her chest, and Doc Jonathan was hurrying over. Alison had called for help in a split second, and Caroline was soon on a stretcher, wired to a monitor.

When Caroline had been certified out of trouble and sent home with a friend, the rest of the group sat, looking stunned. Gradually they began to talk, first of Caroline and her commitment, for which the Chief grudgingly admitted admiration. But neither side would give in. Long after her daughter and the rest of her family had individually decided that compromise was necessary, the Chief kept insisting that The Ship could not afford anything less than the prescribed regimen of education for all. It _had_ to be the computer curriculum. Within that curriculum there was some room for variety, but every child _had_ to have the basis of a technological education. Finally, Art stood up.

"We've come here under a sort of truce," he said quietly. "It's clear that we have irreconcilable differences. We are not willing to compromise on the education issue. We're a significant portion of the population of the ship, and we already have opted out of your education system. If you don't recognize this as legitimate, we shall continue the way we have been. We shall provide an alternative to your computer education. But we must have one thing. You have to have non-technical representation on whatever committee makes the decisions about how the ship is run. You can't simply run it like a military vessel. Many of us were born here, and of course, did not swear allegiance to the cause of the ship, did not sign any agreement. We are here involuntarily, born, as it were, to a kind of technological slavery. It is time you stood behind your principles of democracy, and began some kind of representative government. It cannot do any harm! There should have been provision for such a thing! There must have been _some_ kind of agreement that would serve as a basis for a planetary government! Okay, well, we may as well consider that the Ship _is a planet!_ If you don't do this, you will have violent rebellion on your hands. And none of us want to see violence. Please consider carefully what you will do." And he sat.

The Chief had sat, red-faced, for a long time, and Cass had watched her mother. Cass was certain her mother, too, would have a heart attack. But the Captain spoke into the silence. He had been tuning in and out the whole time, his ability to concentrate had deteriorated somewhat, but Cass knew the old man picked up more than he let on. When he finally threw in the towel, Mom would be Captain. Perhaps it was that fact that kept him going: he probably didn't trust a woman at the helm. But he surprised them all.

"We've heard a lot of good points," he said, and the Chief looked at him sharply. "You may think we're all hide-bound technophiles, unable to think outside the box, as they used to say! But give us a little time." He smiled at the Hippies, and they did not know how to take it. The Captain had become a mythical figure, someone who was never seen, not even at Christmas or at Easter, at the various traditional celebrations held throughout the ship—the Chief had taken over all those duties. But here he was, offering some hope. "The Chief and I have a lot to talk about. As a first step, I promise you some help with your education program." There were murmurs of pleased surprise. "Let's adjourn, and see how we can come to some compromise. Give us a couple of days. Okay? Good. Thank you all for coming, and give Ms. Napoli my sincerest wishes for a quick recovery." He stood up and walked to the door that led to the bridge, and waited. In a second or two, the Chief stood up, and glanced at her family.

"Oh, bring them along, Laura," the old man said, grinning like an idiot. He was just about seventy, but he had little control over his face. He smiled at Cass, who had been a favorite of his when he was young enough to take an interest in her. Of late he had become so reclusive they had lost touch.

"Captain, I hope you're not thinking of giving away . . ."

"Oh, don't be silly, woman; we're not giving away anything. For starters, let's allow them to elect two representatives to the steering committee."

"The steering committee!" The Chief's face showed her dismay clearly. "Captain, you can't have civilians on the steering committee!"

"Why not?" Laura closed her mouth and sat, her face glum. Cass realized, with deep sorrow, how conservative her mother was. "They would know exactly what we're facing, and convince their people that we have no secrets to hide from them. Secondly . . ."

## Cass and Art

That was the beginning of major changes in the way the ship was run. The ship soon had an elected committee consisting of half civilians and half appointed ship's officers, who jointly took responsibility for the governance of the ship, decisions about its route, and all the planning. Gradually, the Hippies were channeled back into the labor force, and the number of occupations and their descriptions were liberalized in order to accommodate people without an interest in the highly technological culture that used to exist. In every Segment, small farms were established, and the precious stocks of seeds and seedlings were opened up so that fresh vegetables and grain could be grown. Changes were made in the hydroponic farms so that the Hippies had some say in how a portion of the food was grown and processed, and the cafeterias and restaurants began to offer 'organic' food. Several of the university graduates volunteered to teach without the use of technology in the hippie schools, which began to take in non-hippie children.

Cass spent a lot of time in the commune. (There were communes in every segment, but the largest one was in their segment, and they thought of it as The Commune.) Some of the time she took Alison with her, other times she made it clear she wanted to go alone.

One night when they were together back in Alison's apartment, choosing a moment when they were feeling especially tender towards each other, Cass confessed that she was in love with Art.

"Has he actually said anything?" Alison asked, her green eyes troubled, and Cass shook her head. Alison took a deep breath and sighed. One arm was under Cass, who was nestled against her, warm and soft; her other hand played lightly with Cass's fine, straight hair, stroking it away from her face.

Allie felt a twinge of jealousy about Art. She had been dreading this moment for years, preparing herself for it. Cass was an important part of her world—it was the same for Cass, she knew. But they had loving, supportive families and a great variety of friends, from Jeannie and Greg down to Annie and her little friends; perhaps that made sharing Cass easier. It was funny that it didn't feel much worse. Cass called him Arthur, now, and Alison wondered why the two of them were not more intimate.

But Cass was very much an aristocrat, conscious of her position as the First Daughter of the ship. For all their insistence that they did not hold with rank and privilege, the Hippies worshiped Cass, bowing and scraping when she visited them. Art was their prince, and they, at least, would be delighted if the two of them were to marry. The Hippies' regard extended also to Alison, and she was often given a seat of honor with Cass and Art at their entertainments and public functions.

Cass turned to Alison and kissed her on the lips.

"What was that for?" Alison asked.

"Can you talk to Art?" she asked, in a small, shy voice.

" _Me?_ Why don't you ask him?"

"I couldn't!"

"Don't be silly!"

Cass turned to her, and began to kiss her repeatedly, begging. Please, she said, over and over, as she kissed Alison until she was breathless. Alison looked up at the lovely woman who lay on her. Cass was lovely, all soft curves, shining eyes and that peculiar shade of dirty-blonde hair that would have looked mousy on anyone else, but looked glorious on her.

"You're so passionate," Alison whispered, her voice full of wonder. "I'm such a dull fish!"

"Someday, someone will come along for you, and I'll look at you and think the same thing. How passionate she is, I'll say!" She kissed Alison tenderly, and for a moment Alison clung to her, feeling the familiar hunger they felt every night. "Will you ask him then, Allie?"

"It's so easy, love . . . Art, do you have a girlfriend?"

Cass made a sound of disgust. "That's so . . . so _little-girl!"_

"Okay, then: Art, my clock is ticking, fella . . ."

"Oh, shut up!"

Cass punched her friend in frustration, which soon turned to a friendly wrestling match, which ended as it always did.

But Alison did what Cass had asked. She sent a message asking to meet Art in private, and formally proposed to him on Cass's behalf. She had dressed carefully in a demure, subdued dress that had belonged to Laura Hutchinson in her younger days. It showed a little more leg than it had on the original owner, but otherwise fitted Alison perfectly. She stood nervously, her hands clasped together.

"Art, I have been instructed to ask you if you would be interested in marrying Cass Holt."

Art was stunned, and it was a few seconds before he smiled. "Are you serious? No, you're pulling my leg!"

The tall red-haired girl shook her head and smiled patiently.

"That's the way she is," she said. "She knows how you feel, but . . ."

Alison did not have the heart to suggest that Cass was fearful of being embarrassed. It seemed a major character flaw.

"Tell her yes," Art said simply, "yes; a thousand times yes!"

Art smiled. Alison's eyes shone, and he gave her a brief hug of shared pleasure.

"What should I do next?" Art asked.

Alison's smile turned into a worried frown. "I don't know. She might go round and round in circles for a while." She looked about, deep in thought. "You could come and speak to her parents. That would speed things up a little."

That was what he did, and six months later, Cass Hutchinson-Holt and Arthur Greenberg were married in one of the biggest celebrations on the ship ever. Folks came from every segment, and the feast after the grand ceremony was talked about for months.

The week after the wedding was a lonely one for Alison, as the couple went to spend their honeymoon in the Ocean Segment. She walked around her apartment, so long unused except for storage, and considered the prospect of living alone. Cass had been such an enormous part of her life, she could no longer sleep without Cass next to her, and she could no longer eat without Cass to cook for. When Cass and Art returned, and came to visit her, it was with difficulty that she avoided letting the surliness that she felt creep into her manner.

"I told Art about us," Cass told her quietly, having got her alone.

"Oh, gee, thanks," said Alison, with a short bark of mirthless laughter. "That's all I need, to have everyone talking about me!"

"Allie!" exclaimed Cass sorrowfully. "Don't talk like that! I can't lie to him, Allie; that's why I—sent you to ask him! And—I can't lie to you. That's why I came to tell you."

Alison shrugged, looking down at her hands, which Cass was holding tight in her pudgy little ones. Cass's hands were still small and stubby, little-girl hands, while the rest of her was all grace and curves. "Thanks—I guess," she said glumly. "I'm really happy for you, Cass—I'm just sulking, that's all. I'll get over it!" They had not really spoken after the wedding. Cass had gone away with Art, avoiding Allie, and though Allie had told herself it was nothing, that moment had come back, and it was harder now.

"There are some things I can't put into words," Cass told her, looking up into her eyes. "I can, but they would sound all wrong!"

"Try me!"

Cass shook her head slowly. Then she pressed Allie's hand against her breast. Allie gasped; Cass had told her, as clearly as if she had spoken the words, that she could not give Allie up.

She was shocked. Allie had strong ideas about what marriage meant, and somehow it seemed wrong that Cass wanted an emotional safety-net in the form of Alison.

They rejoined Art, and Cass helped serve out the meal. "He likes my cooking," said Cass, when they had settled down to eat, "but Art says he likes your cooking more!"

"Everyone likes to eat the cooking of others," Art said. "But this is really great," he said to Alison, smiling. Alison accepted the praise graciously. She was accustomed to having her cooking appreciated. Even her mother, who was a professional, preferred Alison's cooking.

After the visitors had departed, Alison was more restless than ever.

## Spacewalk!

Once young people finished full-time school around sixteen, and took up responsibilities on the ship, they began part-time studies in advanced subjects. While Cass took courses in education and public administration, Allie studied engineering and advanced biology. Alison's lessons were arranged in such a way as to give her time to make a complete tour of the ship, seeing first-hand how it worked. She was gone for two weeks, and then came back, excited and glowing, with lots of presents for everyone. "They're really generous," she said, her eyes glowing, "they gave me a lot more stuff, but I refused!" Her backpack had been crammed with gifts, and some of her belongings had had to be left behind to be sent on later by shaft transport, the elevator that ran up and down the spine of the ship, which served as a kind of mail service.

"Well, _we're_ pretty generous too," grumbled Annie. "I'll bet we'd have given you lots of stuff if you came here from the Tropical Seg!"

"Someone will be coming pretty soon," Allie said, suddenly remembering. "There's a neat guy called Joe who's almost ready to go on tour."

"Are you going to be showing him around?" asked Ted, with a sly grin.

"Jeeze, Ted, you're worse than a gossiping girl!" said Annie, hitting him with her dish towel. Annie hated when anyone made any insinuations about Alison.

In early September it was Art's 21st birthday, and it was celebrated in the commune. A few days after that it was Alison's birthday, and a few more days later, Cass turned 21. Pete Barrows had six youths ready for spacewalk now, and they began to rehearse. The sessions were early in the morning, at around 5 a.m. Ship's time, so as not to interfere with anything else.

This particular day, they were going through Cass's list. She was taking a large pile of things out to the containers—mostly childhood junk that was taking up space, and family paraphernalia that no one seemed to want, but which Jonathan Holt was reluctant to have destroyed. (A secondary furnace, which provided supplementary power, was fueled by any trash. Everything was recycled, old clothing into fiber for making new fabric, and so on, except a few things that were truly unusable.) The Chief had been given a larger allocation than most others; still Cass's list to bring back from storage was modest. They were numbered in the teens, though, among the first few items to be catalogued.

"Here's a view of your area, Cass; the last time it was accessed was back in 09, when, I guess, you were born."

"Who went out, Pete?"

"Me." They stared at Pete with wide eyes, as he regarded then solemnly.

Back in those days, all the EVA was performed by professionals, most of whom had given up that kind of strenuous activity long since, except for Pete and a couple of others. Few of the younger folk were going into that branch of the crew.

"What happens when you retire, Pete?"

"Don't you worry about that now. Focus!" Pete scowled slightly. "Look carefully one last time." They studied the layout through the camera, and then it was retracted, and the port shut.

"Alison!" Allie recited the routine that they would follow. The correct packages had to be retrieved in the most efficient order, secured by one of the others, the packages being carried out had to be fastened down, the protection layers laid over them and secured, and they would move to the next lot. Any one of them had to be able to do it, with minimal prompting, in case one of them could not go, or became incapacitated.

Cass had daily nightmares that she would be the one to get sick. She would go out, and see the stars whirling round the ship, and feel nauseous; she just _knew_ it. Allie or one of the boys would have to take the Hutchinson-Holt junk out, and bring their packages in for her.

She felt Allie's warm hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see her grinning. Cass scowled. It was frustrating how Allie knew exactly what she was thinking. She glanced at Pete Barrows, and his scowl softened.

"You have something to do," he said firmly. "When you have something to do, and you're trained to do it efficiently, there's no time to worry about distracting details. We prepare, and we do it. End of story."

On the day of the spacewalk, the six young people were lined up, four boys and two girls. They had taken the elevator to the far aft segment, which was engineering, and now stood in the hallway leading to the airlock. For the first time, two girls who had also turned 21 with them had chosen to stay behind. Jennifer and Phoebe, losers both, had meekly agreed that their packages would be retrieved only if there was time at the end, by whoever volunteered to do it. A couple of boys had volunteered to go on their behalf, but Pete had said they'd go another time. He had never expressed his feelings to these six, but they knew he was angry. This time, two young people had chosen not to do the EVA. Next month, probably, even more would stay behind. The number of volunteers for the more dangerous occupations was dropping slowly but steadily, even though not a single life had been lost, ever.

Fred was in front, behind Pete. Pete wore his crew space uniform, and the kids wore clearly marked civilian space suits, bright red.

Fred and Alison would manage the lights, since the container areas would not be lit enough for safety. Behind Fred was Cass, then Scott, then Art, then Matt, and Alison brought up the rear.

The outgoing packages were being hauled by Art and Matt, in a huge mesh sack. In their red suits they looked like a bunch of futuristic Santa Clauses hauling presents. The doors shut, and the air was evacuated. Cass looked white-faced, but there was no sign of panic. Pete steadied them with a look, and threw the switch that opened the outer doors. They all heard Cass's gasp.

They were accustomed to the view of space through the protection of the thick glass of the observation windows. But now they looked straight into space, only protected by the material of the helmets.

Pete's voice came through, soft but clear, with the bass filtered out.

"I'm watching you," he said quietly. "Take your time. Get your tethers carefully hitched." Fred fastened his tether first, right behind Pete, and the rest of them in order. Alison watched with a fond smile as Cass's gloved hands manipulated the fastener. They had found the smallest gloves they could for her, and her hands were still too tiny. But she had learned to fasten the tether surprisingly quickly in rehearsal. She tugged to check it, and it was firm. Alison saw her turn back to look at her, and waved encouragement.

Art and Matt were out, now, with the sack between them, also tethered to the guide. Allie came out and followed the rest, turning to shut the airlock.

Hand over hand they made their way along the walkway. At intervals they stopped and moved their tethers past the fastening hardware. Finally they were at the containers, in the back of the ship, with only the engines still further aft.

"Cass, you okay?" someone asked. It sounded like Art.

"Yeah, actually . . . I'm fine," she said, her voice trembling with excitement, but showing no sign of nausea or other worrisome condition. "I can't believe it!"

"Focus," said Pete, firmly. He took out a tool from his tool-belt, and began to slowly and deliberately wield it to open the container.

This was the nearest container, and they were going to be putting in Phoebe's family junk. Less than a minute later, Art had retrieved Phoebe's package from the mesh bag and passed it to Pete, and Phoebe's three small packages had been taken out of the storage container, put in a small sack, and fastened to the guide.

The next container contained everything except Cass's family stuff.

Pete opened it, and as Allie braced herself and held a floodlight into the space, the others went in, smoothly passing packages back and forth. Allie saw her own packages brought out and put in the sack and fastened to the guide. Cass was doing more than her share of the work, her tiny hands locating things quickly, handing them out and packing the incoming things carefully.

Cass had also been put in charge of the latest wrapping materials, to keep the containers safe from large-diameter space dust. It was a new material made of plastic and waste cloth that would supposedly resist impact from gravel-sized particles, though none of them believed it. They closed up the biggest sack, and left it at that container, and went on down the guide.

Finally, it was all the way to the back, to the last container, which held the Hutchinson-Holt stuff. Fred managed it all himself.

With a sigh of relief, they all headed back, with Alison leading the way. They collected all the incoming packages, and moved to the airlock with relief. They could see the camera following them from the spar where it had been mounted. Allie waved at it, and initiated the airlock cycle.

Just as it seemed as if this spacewalk would be as uneventful as its predecessors, the camera wobbled on the spar. "Uh-oh," Allie heard on her audio, and looked up to see the camera come loose of the spar. In a flash she had leaped after it, twenty feet off the guide rail. She snatched the camera cable by its very end, and held onto the spar.

"What are you thinking?" yelled Pete, furious. "Let the damn thing go!"

"I've got it, Pete, it's okay!"

"Jesus, Alison . . . be careful; keep away from those points . . ." He had hardly got the words out, when Alison felt the jagged end of the spar cut into her arm, and heard the air begin to leak out.

What was she to do? She had to hold onto the spar, hold onto the camera, and hold onto the suit, which was leaking, all with only two hands. Stubbornly, Alison tied the camera to the spar with its cable, grabbed her arm to cover the leak and slow it a little, and began to pull herself back to the airlock. It was all a jumble until she felt herself firmly pushed into the airlock, the sacks pushed in after her, and saw the others pile in, and the outer doors close.

Alison wished she had passed out, when she saw the black looks of her companions. Someone had retrieved the recalcitrant camera, and it lay on the floor now, the uncaring object of their hostility.

"It was only a camera, silly!" Cass chided her over the audio. Allie had saved a thousand-dollar piece of equipment, but in the process she had ruined a five-thousand-dollar suit.

After they were safely back in the ship, and worried Lizzie McClintock and Chief Hutchinson had confirmed that Alison was safe, Alison had to face the anger of Pete Barrows. Cass stood close to her, with Art behind her looking upset. She couldn't think of a thing to say to comfort Allie that made sense. Alison seemed to feel Cass's doubt, and it seemed to make her feel even worse.

"I'm sorry, Pete," Alison said, looking him in the eye. "I spoiled your perfect record. I'm very sorry."

Pete took a deep breath. "I don't give crap for my record, Alison. You should know better. That was an insult!" He turned on his heel and walked away, and every inch of him said how angry and sad he was. Alison's eyes narrowed uncharacteristically, and Cass knew she was embarrassed and angry. Alison felt that she had made a fool of herself with the whole segment watching.

Furthermore, she had insulted Pete, who Cass knew was very fond of Alison. She and Pete had been talking one day by themselves, and the subject of Alison had come up, as it often did with Cass. From the look on Pete's face she had known how much the big man admired her friend. Allie wasn't a popular, outgoing girl, but she was solid and responsible and patient and generous. If you had a problem, Allie was the one you went to, and she got the job done.

The entire group was in the room with them, now, while the medic dressed the wound, and helped Alison take off the damaged suit. One of the crew had been standing by for a safety inspection when they came in, and now he was assessing the damage to the suit. He grinned at Allie.

"It's ruined, I know," Allie said in a low voice. Cass had never heard her so subdued. Allie's pretty green eyes studied the floor, and Cass felt she would burst into tears any second. She could almost see Allie drifting off into space, the tether coming unfastened somehow. If that had happened, with the rotation of the ship, Allie wouldn't have stood a chance. Pete's suit had thrusters, but not big enough for chasing down loose space-walkers.

As much as she wanted to comfort her, Cass didn't dare touch Allie in public at that moment, feeling the way she did, for fear that she'd give away their little secret. There were other girl couples on ship, but she was the Chief's daughter, and her mother was not the most liberal person on the ship.

Everyone else was gentler on Allie than Pete.

"What did he say?" her father had asked.

"Well—he said . . . he didn't care about his perfect record. Something like that." Bob had regarded his only child with silent reproach.

"Okay, I know I messed up a priceless suit! Don't look at me like that, Dad!" Allie cried. Their eyes seemed to accuse her without their saying a word.

"It isn't the suit, Allie!" Her mother was smiling, a little tear leaking out of the corner of her eye. "We've known him a long time, me and Dad," she said, giving her husband a loving look. "He played with you when you were a baby. You two adored each other!" Allie was puzzled at all this; she had believed that Pete had met her only a few months ago. But the way her mother blushed gave her some clues about the lay of the land. Luckily, her father seemed not to be upset.

# Year 31: Changes

## EVA's Are No More

To everyone's consternation, for many months it became impossible to do another EVA with the next few batches of kids who turned 21. Nobody wanted to go. While they had all expected that girls might shrink from the challenge, it was worrisome that _all_ the young folk chose not to go.

There was a lot of pressure for Pete and crew members to perform the time-consuming task of retrieving packages from storage, which meant taking time off from maintenance, repairs, and building.

The situation had been building up for a long time. The generation that had volunteered for the mission was older now, and some of them had even begged to be put in cryostasis, to be revived only after Planetfall. In spite of all the psychological engineering, morale among some members of the population was at a low ebb, and getting worse. It manifested itself in odd ways.

Some of them were simple, such as an acute shortage of volunteers for any communal job. Others were more complex, such as some kids refusing to take service jobs upon graduation from the Academy.

Technically, everyone was required to work on board ship, by the ship's regulations. But in practice, those who refused to take employment at all had no legal obligation to work. They hadn't signed the ship's compact, and insisted on their right not to work.

In one sense, those born on ship after it embarked were on what amounted to a new world. They _had_ to abide by the rules of the ship: be useful, or be thrown in the brig. But the enlightened leadership of the vessel shrank from holding them to laws they had not chosen willingly.

These social drop-outs were mostly younger than Cass and Allie. They slunk around in gangs, and though they were usually peaceable they looked sullen and hostile. They disliked the ship's crew and the administration and the Hippies equally, nor would the Hippies have much to do with them. The Hippies, after all, were idealists, who simply disagreed with the ship's government.

Finally, after the New Year, a small band of three went out with Pete.

Alison later made peace with Pete. They had met accidentally after a Saturday evening play, and Alison had quickly taken the opportunity to speak to Pete.

"I'm so glad you got to take a group out," Alison said, smiling awkwardly. "I was worried it was my silliness that kind of—scared people off!"

"It _was_ a valuable camera," Pete conceded. "That's why it wasn't left out there. I attached it each time."

"I wondered about that," Alison exclaimed.

"Yeah; it was my fault, I guess, in a way. I should have fastened the camera good."

"Maybe put some padding over the end of the spar?"

"It's been done," Pete said gravely. "I did it the same afternoon." From the look in Pete Barrow's eyes Alison knew that his anger had been sparked by her putting herself in danger. He was not the type who wore his heart on his sleeve, but Alison felt humbled by how much he obviously cared for her. Before they had parted, Alison had accepted his invitation to join an emergency EVA team.

As members of the crew retired, replacements had to be found, and with the emergence of a significant number of "Dropouts" from the system, it was becoming harder to fill vacancies. Pete had wanted Alison to be on his team from the outset, and it was a sign that he had forgiven her when he had brought it up again.

"I'd love to," she had said simply, and that made them both feel good.

## Violent Incidents

Alison was touring the Ocean segment when violence broke out there, and she witnessed it first-hand. Each segment had a small degree of autonomy, and Ocean Segment had made rather harsh rules about the privileges of Dropouts. When a group of Dropouts had been denied the right to enter an athletic event, there had been a big fight, right in the middle of the spring celebration, and seven of them had been thrown in jail. Soon afterwards, a gang of Dropouts had attacked a "store" to steal alcoholic beverages, and severely wounded the elderly woman who managed it. Alison had been just outside the store, and rushed in just in time to call security.

"This was bound to happen," her father said, after she had finished her tour and returned home. "They're asking for trouble, being so tough on them."

"But Dad, they have the right! It's not as if they're being denied _food!_ "

Her father shrugged. "What some people consider a luxury, others consider a necessity. It's all relative."

# Year 70: A New Generation

## Wes Montgomery's Funeral

The Captain's coffin lay on a bier in the middle of the floor of the auditorium. Cass had been asked to give the eulogy. The last surviving member of the generation that had been born on earth, Lizzie McClintock, had said a few words already. Laura Hutchinson had died young, at seventy-four. She had already resigned from her position because of her heart condition, and taken the more ceremonial position of Captain. For four years Andrew Lattanzi had served as Chief, during which time Laura Hutchinson had died, and Greg Rutkowski, Jeannie's husband, had been appointed Captain. Three years after Andrew Lattanzi had taken up the position of Chief of Operations, it had been decided that the Chief should be elected rather than appointed.

Lattanzi had then been elected Chief, but had died a year later, after which, to no one's surprise, Cass had been elected.

Greg Rutkowski, as Captain, presided over the solemn event. Cass was good with words. She had the perfect blend of poetic idealism and motherliness for the task, making the assembly feel the importance of the moment, but softening the sense of loss with hope—not an easy job, with anarchy slowly spreading through the ship. The older generation adored her, Jeannie and the others who had been the oldest born on board ship. Cass and Art had five beautiful children, and seven grandchildren.

Cass's oldest daughter, Karin, was a real beauty, the image of Cass when she had been young, with Art's height and some of his features. Cass had been a pretty child, and was a lovely woman, who seemed to grow lovelier as she aged. But Karin was a stunner, and continued to break hearts long after she was married and had children.

Alison had risen to become the senior science officer. Jeannie was still the most respected scholar on board, but her retiring disposition prevented her from taking a more public role in the society of the ship. This left Alison with the most responsibility in Engineering. She had gone into research under Mary and Martha, and become head of the department of biology and chemistry when the twins retired early.

The ship population had grown to more than a thousand, now, not counting "The Sleepers," none of whom had been resuscitated yet.

These were troubled times. There was now a definite underworld on board ship, a significant minority indulging in many of the vices of the home planet, including drugs, alcohol, and other things that had not been factors for the best part of a century.

For instance, it had been considered unnecessary to have firearms on board ship. A stray bullet could breach the hull with disastrous consequences. But somehow, guns had been found in the hands of teenagers who had been arrested for extortion, and they had revealed that there were lots of guns on board ship, in spite of the careful screening of everything that had been brought into the ship.

Eventually incidents were reported of the actual shooting of firearms, which had thus far caused no serious damage. For decades Cass, with Art and Allie, had watched the deterioration of conditions on board ship, and now, during the funeral, her feelings were beginning to break through the careful controls she had created for herself. Her carefully written peroration of The Captain—Greg was Captain now, but old Wesley Montgomery would always be _The Captain_ —was drawing to a close, but her heart urged her to go on, to speak to the biggest audience that had gathered for a decade.

"It's always difficult to keep a balance between our thoughts of a great person as a public figure, and our thoughts of him or her as a personal individual. Having known the Captain as a person, from the time I was a child, when he hardly noticed me, to these last years when he kept encouraging me, telling me everything would be all right . . . it is equally hard for me to keep a balance between my own personal loss, and the loss we all share." She looked over to where Lizzie sat, still straight as an arrow, her white hair cut short, and her blue eyes watching Cass closely. Once Lizzie died, there would be no one with a living connection to Earth. All they would have was recorded information. The life went out of Cass as that thought crossed her mind.

A sudden, desperate idea came to her.

"In these difficult days, many have advised me, privately and publicly. I want every person on this vessel to know—we need your ideas as well as your labor!" She took a deep breath. "For the next month, I intend to sit every evening in the elementary school area in this segment, to listen to anyone who is willing to talk to me. Anyone. Please hear me! _Anyone_." There was an audible murmur, as Cass quickly finished, and returned to her seat.

At one time Cass had been a favorite everywhere on the ship. Her mother had been regarded as something of a dragon, even while Cass herself was adored as a sweet, angelic, non-threatening child. In later years she had come to be condemned as ineffectual and indecisive. But that was her style; her generation, and the one that followed immediately after, was sick of the military-style dictatorship they had inherited, even though it had been a benevolent one. As they aged, her contemporaries had urged a return to it, as the only recourse against the deterioration they saw all around them, the erosion of values. Of late, even Lizzie had urged stricter measures. She had suggested that capital punishment be reinvented, to the embarrassment of her daughter.

Never far from Cass if she could help it, even today, Alison sat watching her friend from a few seats away. The passion between them, if it had ever been that, had faded long since, but they were still very much in love. They were so in tune, even at the ripe old age of sixty, that Cass could feel Alison's eyes on her, and turned to look at her. She had gone back to her seat after inviting the entire ship to come talk to her, and now the Chaplain was saying a few closing words, before the Captain's body would be given for burial.

Alison was grey at the temples now, but the bulk of her hair was still the deep red-brown it had always been. The freckles had never gone away, and she was still recognizably Allie, with her short, thick braid, her strong slim body which had only borne one child, Robert, who was now a forester, just as his mother had been in her youth.

Alison had never declared the paternity of her child, and had given him her own name: Robert Warren McClintock. Bob was now married, to Daisy, a child of white parents who had chosen to live in the tropical segment, and who had been brought up there. They had two children, Magdalena, or Lena, nine, named after a childhood friend of Daisy's, and Ben, six, both of them the delight of their grandmother.

A long line formed to give Cass and Art condolences after the funeral. She had been the Captain's adopted niece, as he had told everyone, and he had lived for years with Cass and Art in their quarters. No matter how she tried, her words and manner became wooden after a few handshakes. She wished people would be a little looser; why wouldn't they give her a hug? God knew she was old enough for a hug not to be misconstrued. Cass needed physical affection, which was probably part of the reason why she clung to Alison. Next in line was a young fellow from engineering, a good friend, one of her young admirers. Cass pulled him into her arms, and then he hugged her. She murmured how good it felt, and he kissed her on the cheek.

Presently, the line was almost at its end, except for a few stragglers. Cass was surprised to see a dozen or so faces who had clearly come from the camp of the Dropouts. They had taken pains to dress well, but she knew them because they were unfamiliar. They stood some feet away, watching her.

Cass stretched out a hand to one of them and smiled her public smile.

"Hello! Thank you for coming!" Such was her charm that the young man walked over and hugged her, followed by the rest of them. Cass refrained from propaganda, contenting herself with greeting them pleasantly. Her public smile had quickly become a genuine one, as she felt them respond. She wondered whether they remained apart in spite of themselves, caught in some cultural trap that forced children of Dropouts into the lifestyle of the parents.

Allie had been standing nearby, and now she came forward to hug first Art, then Cass. Behind her stood old Lizzie, her eyes unfocused. She noticed Cass only when they were just a couple feet apart.

"How do you manage to look so lovely, my dear? And you're what, sixty?"

"Sixty-one, Liz, and you know it! Don't you get on my case!" Liz felt frail as Cass hugged her. Cass glanced up at Allie, who was smiling softly back. In her youth, Allie and her mother had had their differences, and though they didn't fight, like other mothers and daughters, they had disagreed strongly. They were too much alike, in some ways.

And now Cass thought, with an odd feeling in her chest, that Lizzie even smelled faintly like Alison. Perhaps it was some shampoo they used . . . Cass held her for a long while, and felt Lizzie relax against her. The old girl had been tall, almost as tall as her daughter; but now they were the same height, Lizzie and Cass. She still stood straight as a tree, but her spine had shrunk, despite the low gravity of the ship.

They made their way home, leaving the body behind for the bio crew. It would not be buried; it would be laid in a special vat into which clean organic matter was put for decomposition. In the closed system of space, all they had was each other, and what was in the carefully hoarded food stores, heavily protected against heat and radiation. With the almost five-fold increase in population, food was precious. They were doing the equivalent of burying the Captain naked, as the Moslems did, and growing vegetables on his grave.

Alison went home with her mother and her family. She wished she could be as warm and physical as Cass was; she longed to hug her grandchildren, and even Daisy, blonde and fragile and blue-eyed, but they were a quiet, shy lot, all of them. Lizzie's exuberance had not rubbed off on them in that way. Lena and Ben were affectionate to her, but it was seldom they who initiated any affectionate behavior.

"That took me by surprise," her mother said. "I never expected her to announce that she would hold court in the schoolyard, or whatever!"

"It isn't _holding cour_ t, Mom, she's just . . . going to sit there, reading a book, or whatever, so that anyone can approach her."

"She'd better have a guard posted," Lizzie said.

Alison felt herself getting annoyed. Sometimes her mother could be so rigid.

"What's she going to do, Gramma?" Lena asked, puzzled.

"Chief Hutchinson is going to wait at the school, ready to talk with anyone who comes by. I think it's a good plan, don't you?"

"I'm telling you, she'll have a load of Dropouts come by and harass her. What an asinine idea!" Alison clamped up. Sometimes she wondered whether Bob was really her child, and Lizzie was really her mother.

## Cass Holds Court

The very next day, Cass went out to the Elementary School, attended only by her youngest granddaughter, little Summer, a quiet, thoughtful child of twelve. She was a good choice, because she didn't have the aristocratic good looks of some of Summer's other cousins. She had medium brown hair, medium brown eyes, was neither talkative nor taciturn. And Cass was very fond of her.

Summer had brought her pet, a caterpillar named Fred, and a book to read. Cass was too strung out to read. They waited and waited, but nobody came, and presently Summer took Fred for a walk in the woods.

Summer was always going off for walks with Fred, and had never come to any harm. She looked completely anonymous in her jeans and T-shirt.

Just as Cass was beginning to give herself up to despair, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see Alison coming over. She looked slim and tall and handsome, so impossibly young-looking. She carried a shoulder bag. Cass's face lit up with relief; it had been a long, dull afternoon. She gave Allie a welcoming smile, though her heart sank. If anyone saw Alison out here, they would stay away, rather than disturb them.

"I just came to say hi," Allie said softly. "I brought you some snacks." She laid them out on the little table nearby, stood for a second to smile at Cass. "You're all alone?"

Cass gestured vaguely towards the woods. "Summer's out there, walking her pet," she said, giving her friend a wry smile.

"What is it this time?"

"The same one; Fred the caterpillar."

"The same one!" Alison grinned. "Shows character," she said. "Well, I'm off!"

"Thanks for coming, Allie! But don't come round," she added gravely. "You'll intimidate them." Alison nodded without resentment, and left with a cheery wave.

A little later, an elderly couple came by. She was a nurse, and he was a policeman who had worked under Ben Warren. They had only come by to visit. They had no ideas, but they were grateful to her for keeping the dream alive, they said. "Your mother was a great woman, and when she died, we thought everything would go to pieces. But you're doing so well, with all this trouble," said the sweet old lady. "Our girl Megan thinks you're wonderful!"

"Tell Megan I appreciate it," Cass said with a smile.

After they had gone, Cass pondered over their words. Lowly though their jobs had been, she knew they must have been above average earth intelligence, if intelligence was inherited at all. Some of the brightest people on board the ship had been nurses and policemen, and professions tended to go in families.

A little later a pair of men came along and introduced themselves, and on their heels another couple, and a pair of women. Summer wandered back in with Fred, and sat slightly outside the circle. Seeing everyone tucking into Alison's cake, she came forward to get herself a slice, and quietly slipped back into her seat to eat it in silence.

"It's the population," the men were saying. "The more people there are, the more trouble there is!" They carried on at length on their thesis. "You've gotta curb the number of people who're allowed to breed! _No_ kids for the Dropouts _at all_ , that's the _only_ wise decision."

The women disagreed violently. "If you don't have lots of kids, the women will go crazy," they declared.

"I have five children," Cass said softly to the men, "and I would be a hypocrite to deny others the right to have children."

"But that's different," they declared. "You and your husband are productive people, hard-working, responsible. You have to reward hard work and usefulness, and punish aimlessness and laziness!"

Cass shook her head. The issues were far too delicate to discuss with amateurs. What could she have been thinking, to invite anyone and everyone to come talk to her? Patiently she tried to explain how delicate the psychology of the shipboard population was, how too rigid a population policy could turn the _Galaxy_ into a pressure cooker, ready to burst.

As the light quietly dimmed, Cass noticed the time with a start. They were all accustomed to the stepped brightening or dimming of the great artificial sun at nine, three and six; it had been an invention of her mother, an easy way to announce the time quietly.

"I think it was a good idea for you to do this," one of the women said, smiling faintly. "I learned a lot." The men agreed. "I hope you don't give it, up!" the woman added.

"Thank you all for coming!" Cass said, smiling. She was touched when each of them hugged her, and murmured encouragement.

She was puzzled by how happy she felt as she walked Summer home, with Fred in his little bottle in her hand.

A couple of weeks later, Lizzie McClintock walked up to the little circle where Cass waited to talk to whoever would come. There had been a steady stream of visitors, none of them Dropouts. Every day someone brought snacks, meat pastries, cake, cookies, or sandwiches. Cass had wondered whether to bring something with her, but so far it hadn't been necessary. Lizzie had brought brownies. She walked with a stick, now, and had begun to wear glasses. Her smile warmed Cass; she had always been fond of Cass, and she felt it odd that she still basked in Lizzie's favor, long after it should have ceased to matter to her.

"I said you were holding court, and Allie nearly bit my head off," Lizzie said to Cass.

Cass laughed. "Wherever I go I'm holding court, Lizzie!" She smiled at the old lady who sat straight in her seat, a stubborn 95 years old. "It's so good to see you, and good to have your brownies . . . mm, they smell wonderful!"

"Keep a few, in case someone comes, girl!"

"Just one," Cass said, picking up a brownie. "Where's that granddaughter of mine, now?"

"Which one is it today?"

"Oh, Summer; she's the only one who'll come with me." Lizzie looked around and gave up. Summer was out of sight far away, taking Fred on his favorite route.

There was movement down the lane, and to Cass's surprise, three people approached, obviously Dropouts. They were two men and a woman, who had clearly made a special effort to dress formally. Cass wondered whether she should try to talk Lizzie into leaving. Lizzie had noticed the new arrivals, and was watching them with considerable interest.

"Chief Hutchinson!" murmured the first one as he came up, bending to shake Cass's hand. Then he turned to Lizzie. "You must be Mrs. Warren! It's an honor to meet you, Ma'am!" Lizzie harrumphed and demanded to know what his name was, and he introduced himself as Stan Cook. "This is my wife, Estelle, and this is her brother, Jim Rodriguez!"

Hands were shaken all round, and Cass smiled at them encouragingly. "I'm so pleased you decided to come," she said sincerely. "I was beginning to think none of you folk would dare to come by."

"Waal," said Stan, "I decided to see how it went for a few days before I came by! I had to come and tell you I admire your courage, to go through with this idea of yours!"

Cass accepted his words with her usual grace, and began to quietly talk with them. At first she had thought they had very little in common, but it was gradually clear that the opposite was the case.

The Dropouts were frustrated with finding themselves in a ship, with no escape. The Hippies, in contrast, were in tune with the goals of the ship, but at odds with the technological methods and the technological culture of the ship leadership. The Dropouts were at odds with the fundamental premise of the ship, that it was appropriate to subject multiple generations to the rigors of space travel without an option. In spite of that, Stan revealed that some of them admired the main community for holding on to its ideals.

"There's not a lot of philosophizing that goes on in our homes, you understand?" Cass nodded. "It's more an instinctive thing. It isn't right, you know, what was done to us. And to you, for that matter!" Cass nodded. "So we opt out. How can we encourage this nonsense?"

"Obviously, Stan, it's now a matter of principle, isn't it? I mean, you don't want us to turn back?"

"Yes, it's a matter of principle."

Lizzie spoke suddenly. "The children. Do they go to school?"

"Yes, most of them," said Stan. "We stopped keeping them home long ago."

"What do you do all day, Stan?"

Stan smiled. "I think I have to disappoint your curiosity there, madam; that's a private matter!"

"But, what do you _do?_ Do you do _something,_ or don't you do anything at all?" At that, the other two began to talk, and soon there was a lively discussion about what people did to pass the time, with Lizzie conducting most of it. It became clear that this little visit was the most interesting thing that had happened to the three Dropouts in a long while.

From that day on, every day several Dropouts came by to chat to Cass. One day, Estelle, the woman, called Cass, and asked to meet her privately. It was the first of a number of meetings, in the course of which it became clear that the woman was desperately unhappy, and that all she wanted was to _escap_ e. It was not clear whether she wanted to escape from the ship, from her life, from her family, or what. Cass invited her to come live with them. If she was being treated badly, Cass said, there were places she could go.

No, it wasn't that, Estelle said; she had her children, and had to go back to them. It was a desperation she could not put into words, a yearning for something she had never had, she didn't know, couldn't identify.

"I wish I knew where that old lady lived," Estelle said one day.

"Who, Lizzie?"

"Yeah, her," said Estelle, brightening. "She's different!"

She certainly was, Cass thought resentfully. She's the only one alive who's stood on earth. Perhaps what Estelle needed was the one thing they couldn't give her: a planet. "Well, come along this evening; I'll get Lizzie to come, too!"

Lizzie did come. To Cass's relief she sat and patiently listened to Estelle and the friend she brought with her. The younger woman, Deirdre, was even more articulate than Estelle, and all her frustrations flowed out to the listening women. Cass saw in her a sensitive, intelligent woman, all lost and at sea. It was tragic; Cass could see a place for her in ship society, while the girl—she was little more than a girl, barely twenty—could only see a life that went nowhere, and death at the end of it.

"Well, that's what life _is,_ child, 95 years, and death at the end of it! What do you want it to be? When I was a girl, I told my mother that, and she said, it isn't what enjoyment _you_ get out of life, Lizzie, it's what enjoyment the world gets out of _you!_ Isn't it the truth? So here I am!"

"But Miss Lizzie, you have everything, an intelligent, powerful daughter, a happy home, a fulfilling life, recognition, success."

Lizzie looked at her in amazement. "Do you know what I was? I was a cook! What did you think I was; Picasso?"

Deirdre looked at her blankly. "You were only a cook?"

"Sure! Fifty years in Food Services. Made the best damn food in all of space, you betcha."

Deirdre looked glum. "How could you stand that? What's the challenge in it?"

The talk went on, leaving Cass frustrated. In spite of her intelligence, something seemed to have dulled Deirdre's thinking so that it went around in circles. Summer wandered in again with her caterpillar, and saw the sandwiches. She licked her lips.

"Okay, it's snack time," Cass said, relieved. "Come and show Deirdre your caterpillar, Summer, and then you can have a sandwich." Summer calmly walked into the job of distracting the visitors, while Cass took a moment to breathe. Thankfully Deirdre and Estelle seemed to find Summer interesting.

"A great influence on me in my childhood days was Helen Nordstrom," Lizzie was saying. "I guess none of you have heard of her? Well, she was really something!" Cass looked at Lizzie oddly.

She had gone into a reverie, talking more to herself than to the rest of them. "She was like an angel, come to Earth to inspire us! I remember the first time I saw her . . ." The sandwiches were duly eaten, with great relish. Lizzie was a little too distracted to eat, while the others were too hungry to pay attention to Lizzie, except for Summer, who took in everything, even when she didn't seem to be paying attention.

"So what did she do?"

"Who?"

"Helen what's-her-name?" They were down to the lemonade, their hunger temporarily appeased.

"Oh, God, what couldn't she do? She sang, she played the violin, she conducted, she acted, she danced, she was a teacher! She could do _everything!_ And she was _beautiful!_ " Lizzie's rather severe face was transformed when she spoke about her idol. The others watched her, open-mouthed, including Summer. Lizzie recounted one story after another, about what wonders this Helen had accomplished, such crazy stories that Cass was convinced the old girl was raving. Finally Lizzie slowed down and stopped, out of breath, beaming at them. "I could talk about her all day!" She sighed. "I haven't thought about her for so long!" She sighed again. "Oh, if only she was here, with us; she could give us something to live for!"

Deirdre continued to stare at her. These things were as far from her experience as Earth was. "How come I have never heard of this character?"

"She's a real person, girl, not a movie personality!"

"She was an actress, right?"

"No, no, no; she was a _musician!_ "

It took a long time to explain what that meant; on board ship, of course, all music was recorded. There were lots of electronic synthesizers—called keyboards—on which kids plunked out tunes, to which the keyboards provided automatic accompaniment. That was all right for amusement, but for serious music, you always went to recorded sound, which was available in vast quantities on disk.

Finally the two Dropouts had a handle on who and what Helen Nordstrom was. She was an entertainer, who had somehow become very big. Opera meant little or nothing to them, nor did classical music, except as the soothing sounds heard in certain areas, and in high-class homes as background music.

"I could see meeting someone like that inspiring me," Deirdre said thoughtfully. "Today has been the most exciting day of my life, so far. You can tell, can't you, how wonderful my life is!"

"Oh child, you make me want to shake you!" Lizzie said, grinding her teeth. "Snap out of it!" She fell back exhausted by her feelings. "I remember feeling like that," she said, looking up into the trees. "I felt like that the first day I saw Helen . . . and then everything changed."

Cass heaved a sigh of frustration. "I don't see the point of obsessing over it, Lizzie. Unless we have videos of her, or recordings."

"She's right on the ship, Cass, as if you didn't know. She's number one!" Lizzie moved her back to relieve a cramped muscle. "I don't see why she's kept frozen," she grumbled. "I'd like to see her revived before I die . . . but it isn't going to happen . . . nobody cares about them . . . you'll wake her up some day, and nobody will know what to do with her. Once I die, she'll have no one who's ever seen her, who can share her memories of Earth!"

"This Helen is on the ship? She's a sleeper?" Cass was stunned.

"Yes, I tell you, she's number one! She was the first one frozen!"

"We have a _celebrity_ on board?"

"Yes, the only one. It was kind of a publicity stunt; a bit of Earth culture for the future! People were so angry!"

The lights dimmed, and they all took their leave of each other.

Cass decided to walk Lizzie home. Lizzie simply could not stop talking about her idol, Helen Nordstrom. Cass listened patiently, and the longer she listened, the more convinced she became that perhaps it was time to look at the cultural resources that had been placed on board ship.

The problem they had on their hands was not simply a philosophical one, it was a socio-psychological one. In Cass Hutchinson's opinion, they had narrowed the scope of the goals of the venture, and alienated a significant sector of the population. They had allowed themselves to think of the _Voyager_ as a mere _conveyance_ , rather than a _home_. The time would come when the mind-set would need to change, when a true home was found. But it was impossible to function tentatively in that way for decades. _This was home now._ Life went on, with all its joys and its challenges. Never before had mankind made a multi-generational commitment quite like this one. What good was Helen Nordstrom once they arrived? What was she doing on board, anyway?

That night, Cass called Alison over, to sit with her and Art to discuss the new information. Cass was the authority on the social-cultural resources of the ship, and she was acutely embarrassed not to be aware of the details of the cultural planning of the voyage.

She sat at the computer and accessed the data concerning The Sleepers. Sure enough, entry number one was one Eleanor Nordstrom, Ph.D. in music from the University of Pennsylvania, age 34. Generally known as Helen Nordstrom. Born in the suburbs of Chicago, grew up on a farm in Kansas. Attended Oberlin College, Ohio, on a choral scholarship. Specialist in renaissance music, and in Johann Sebastian Bach. Soprano, sang Bach, Mozart, Gluck, Wagner, Strauss, Schubert, and Handel. Violinist, famed for her interpretation of the Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven and Dvorak concertos. Made musical instruments, skilled woodcarver. Avid tennis player, qualified to teach tennis.

The list was endless! Cass could hardly believe her eyes.

There was a photograph, and Cass was studying it when Allie and Art came in, with Glenn Alder from the life-support staff.

"Who's that?" they asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Helen Nordstrom," Cass said softly. "She's Sleeper Number One . . . Lizzie thinks we should revive her."

"What's her specialty— _Dropouts?"_

"No, she's kind of an entertainer. She's a professor and a violinist and a soprano. She sang opera."

"Good heavens!" Most of the sleepers were technical experts. They couldn't see the point of placing someone who seemed to be a mere _entertainer_ in the cryogenic array.

"Why not? Culturally, I guess, we're kind of a desert here!"

"I mean—why did they freeze her? I couldn't believe Lizzie McClintock when she told me the story!"

Jeannie was consulted, and the following day Cass met with Jeannie, Greg, Mary and Martha at the hub of the administrative offices, the library room. The administrative library had access to the information banks that were not available to the rest of the ship: the personal files, and the detailed studies that had been made prior to the approval of the project. Jeannie, as the nominal head of administrative research, the branch that kept an eye on what went on in the ship, and whether it was in line with the goals of the project, was the one who had control of the privileged information. She was not a social scientist, she was a writer. Once she got the information for them, Cass assigned reading for them all. Jeannie was probably the most intelligent person on board, and Cass accordingly assigned to her the largest part of the reading.

Within minutes she let out a long whistle.

"What have you found?" asked Cass eagerly, but Jeannie kept reading intently. Cass asked her again, but getting no response, subsided. It was clear that Jeannie had discovered something big.

It was nearly noon when Jeannie pushed away her monitor with a sigh.

"There's been a screw-up somewhere," she said. "Cass, when you took over from Andy, did you get a sealed envelope, or something like that?"

"A sealed envelope?" Cass made a comical face. "What's he going to give me—the keys to the kingdom?"

"This is important. There could have been a huge procedural lapse. Think hard; did he give you _anything?_ Anything at all?"

"He was dead, Jeannie."

"Gosh. Did he leave anything?"

It took some hunting, but they found Andrew Lattanzi's personal secretary, who discovered an envelope with Andrew Lattanzi's password. Later she confessed that she had been worried that if they searched his computer they might find compromising information. "It's been so long, though, it can't matter now," she said, looking very worried. "What's up now, what has brought on all this interest?"

"We'll soon know," said Jeannie. "Shall I log in?" They nodded.

Right on the desktop, in a corner was a button that said: Continuity Instructions! Click here as soon as possible!

Jeannie explained that some of the arrangements of the ship had been left in a software program that would continue to provide ideas and resources when they left radio contact with the earth. It was called the continuity program, and each Chief of Operations would start it running on his or her computer, and bring the continuity suggestions to the steering committee every week.

In moments, they had moved the program to Cass's console, and got it running. Having not been run for nearly a decade, the program had a decade's worth of suggestions and instructions for Cass. There was a transfer protocol to establish that Cass was indeed the new Chief of Operations, and then it generated a file that they could all read at leisure.

Greg groaned. "This is pages and pages! A lot of it is maintenance!"

"Get Alison," said Martha practically.

Alison arrived and sat down to look at the file thoughtfully. She quickly managed to identify the scientific components of the list.

"A lot of these things are routine, and . . . some of these ideas we came up with, on our own," she said. "Shall I split the list into two files?" They nodded, and she programmed a simple splitting procedure. Now the list was much shorter, and all of them sat round the view screen, looking at it.

"Here's one of the longest ones:

You will have noticed by now that, from the point of view of the arts, very little has been provided. The vast stocks of video material gives the illusion that there is no lack of art, but in fact there is little to feed the imagination of the youth on board except the environment they find themselves in.

A predictable reaction to shipboard life will be an antipathy to technology. By now you would have implemented the alternate lifestyle plan, so that a significant part of the population will cultivate life-skills required in a minimally technological environment.

"They've anticipated the Hippies!"

"Keep reading!"

One of the most potent components in the planned cultural evolution of the shipboard population is Helen Nordstrom, Sleeper 1. By the time you read this, little will be known and remembered of this brilliant and unique woman.

Dr. Nordstrom was a universally loved woman born late in the 20th century, gifted with vast talents, personal and musical. She was—is—a singer, a lyric soprano, an expert on J. S. Bach, a musicologist, a violinist, an actress, a successful college professor, a dancer, and a maker of musical instruments. She was also interested in folk music of all nations, as well as Indian dance. She is fluent in French and German, and in two Indian dialects. She can converse in Spanish, Italian, and Russian.

With some difficulty, Helen Nordstrom was persuaded to participate in the Voyager project, and with considerable more difficulty, to be the first sleeper. Our discussions have led us to believe that she should be revived on route. While most of the other sleepers represent specialties having to do with geo-forming or setting up colonies, city planning, nation-building, and such planet-related needs, Helen Nordstrom is an essential part of the mental health component of the project's design. Our calculations suggest that ship culture will probably arrive at the lowest safe level around 100 ship-years, some forty years in your future. However, we mention this woman now, in case crises occur which seem cultural in nature, and which might be ameliorated by a cultural stimulus.

A highly technological environment could act as a deterrent for artistic inspiration. The very availability of established pieces of art could stifle self-expression in a small isolated group such as yours, on board ship. We believe that, if Helen Nordstrom were to be revived on route, it would be optimal for the on-board population, and provide for maximal fulfillment for Miss Nordstrom herself. Please read Appendix 4.

"Appendix Four?"

"I've got it," said Alison. "It's on the Charter. 'Appendix 4: Helen Nordstrom.' Want me to read it?"

"Yes, go on!"

"Helen Nordstrom . . . Okay, it's all her achievements . . . Here we go."

One of the most precious resources of Earth has consented to join the expedition, namely Helen Nordstrom. These words are being written on the morning following the ceremony at which this wonderful woman was frozen, as millions watched on television. In her, those aboard the _Galactic Voyager_ have someone with whom we have parted with the greatest reluctance. Our loss is your gain. Treat her with love and affection, and learn from her. We are heartbroken, but the high idealism of this venture demands sacrifices such as this. Bon Voyage, our Helen!

"How precious! She does look cute in this picture, all golden curls, and yellow eyes . . ."

"Can we go look at her?"

"Ew! That's disgusting!"

"Is no one allowed to look?"

Greg was getting a little impatient with all this feminine excitement and curiosity. There was a great deal of material on the list that had nothing to do with the Nordstrom woman. He could see that Alison was anxious to go through the technological part of the list to analyze how far they were from target.

At his insistence, they made plans as to how the ship would be brought up to date with the list. It was as if they had been running the ship like a bunch of amateurs. It took a while for the women to get serious about the situation, but eventually they did. Cass, in particular, saw the ramifications of it all very clearly, and was most disturbed by the discovery of enormous gaps in her knowledge, in particular her knowledge about the long-term plans for the voyage, or at least, life aboard the ship, which had been so carefully designed by the masterminds who had stayed behind on earth.

## Analyzing the Continuity Instructions

Of the souls 'awake' on the ship, some forty were concerned immediately with the new information. The seven men and women who tended the array of sleepers were dismayed at all the sudden attention they received from the Chief and her people.

The sleeper array lay carefully protected in the medium-gravity environment in the collar near the bridge, the forward part of the ship that housed the navigational and observational areas. In contrast to popular belief at the time that the videos of space travel had been made on earth, the bridge was rarely occupied by more than a couple of individuals. It was boring, looking out of the screen; they knew weeks, even months in advance, what was approaching them. Their enormous speed meant that all of space seemed to be 'bunched' slightly forward; it was far more interesting to study their surroundings through the telescopes, which were video linked to laboratories in each of the segments.

Alison and her engineering team had been studying their part of the list, which had sent them to reference parts of the documentation that they had all but ignored for more than a decade. There had been ongoing construction for years at a series of projects in the enormous plants astern, the need for which had been far from clear.

The plans that were revealed made it clear that the target population of the ship was far larger than had been thought. The additional construction was to add segments to the ship, larger, more complex segments that could house all those people. The population presently awake was overcrowded only because the ship's expansion had been neglected.

"But . . . how are we going to lengthen the ship?" asked one of the more naïve junior engineers at the meeting.

Greg motioned to Alan Weatherhead, the chief structural engineer on the ship. Alan took a deep breath. The gaps in understanding of the members of the team were acutely embarrassing.

"The greater part of the work is done in the assembly-rooms astern, right? Then, for a month, we cut out the engines." His eyes scanned the group. He could see questions forming behind the eyes that stared back. "At that point, we're still zooming along at the speed at which we were traveling at the moment of the cutoff, but we may as well be still as far as the ship is concerned. Then we lengthen the main shaft with jacks, insert a new length of shaft, and . . ."

"With _jacks?_ "

"Sure! There are jacks built-in at intervals all along the shaft."

"Where?" cried some of the juniors. The subject of the jacks had never come up, because it had never been necessary to bring it up with any but the most senior and most advanced students in the Academy. The focus of Engineering had moved to trivialities: fixing toilets. It was time for many changes.

In order to get back on track with the project plans, they would need a vastly larger engineering corps. Most of the adults on board were employed in the recreation and entertainment sector, or not employed at all. The health services were understaffed, as were the teaching profession, the astronomy and navigation professions, and to a lesser extent, the forestry department.

Cass supervised the task with care and thoughtfulness. The responsibility was carefully shared out, and steps were taken so that the mistake of continuity would never be made again. Andy Lattanzi had placed too much of a premium in being able to lay brilliant ideas before the steering committee as if they were his own. Mystique had its price! Cass made sure her young aides knew exactly where the continuity program resided, and how it was to be administered when she resigned, or in case anything should happen to her. A detailed list was made of all the duties of the Chief, and filed in a kind of computer 'vault'. Later Cass discovered that there already _was_ such a vault, which had not been used for years. Her mother had been the last professional Chief, and in her later years she had not remembered how much the position of Chief of Operations had changed due to becoming an elected rather than an appointed post. Clearly there had to be a balance between control of the mission, and governance of the colonists.

All through this period, Cass somehow managed to keep her promise of sitting out at the elementary school in the evenings.

Gradually word spread that she was actually doing it, that those who had gone to see her had been well received, and her visitors became more varied and interesting. But Cass's days were filled with furious catching up. It was almost two weeks before she could steal some time to visit the sleeper arrays, which were protected from the eyes of the merely curious by an elaborate security barrier. Cass, as Chief, had only moderate difficulty gaining access to the area.

Grumbling at having to wear pants, and having to visit a low-gravity collar, Cass and Martha hauled themselves into the sector that house the sleepers, allowed themselves to be searched by security, and were finally conducted to the actual array. To her surprise, Cass saw that except for some kind of coating, the sleepers were nude. At the farthest end was Sleeper 1, the celebrated Helen Nordstrom.

Cass clung to a handhold, studying the woman. She was taller than average, tall for a person born on Earth. The low ship's gravity encouraged height, and so the younger generation was significantly taller, but this girl would still be considered tall. She was slim, her breasts small, those of a woman who had never given birth. Cass had found out that she had been twice pregnant, but the fetuses had not survived. She was sturdily built, but there was a kind of nobility in her features that made Cass believe all that they had read about the woman. There was video data on her, a limited amount, but Cass had not viewed it; it seemed almost like cheating to spy on her via her video record while she was asleep.

A month before Helen was scheduled to be revived, plans were put in motion. There had been detailed suggestions in the continuity instructions about how to maximize the impact of reviving Helen when the time came. The ship news broke the story with a splash, the schools incorporated information about Helen into their lessons for weeks, and an apartment was set up for her, and her things were brought in from storage, except for her container allocation which would not be touched until she gave the word. The sleeper staff, under the solemn leadership of Amelie Barriac read, re-read, and rehearsed the procedures for reviving a sleeper. Amelie was one of the oldest of the generation born on board the ship, a stickler for procedure, and fiercely protective of the sleepers ever since she had apprenticed with the old sleeper keeper, Robert Jordan, who had died some fifteen years before. Amelie had the manuals down by memory, and had been experimenting with the cryostasis procedure on small laboratory animals, something she had been allowed to do secretly by Laura Hutchinson. It wasn't that Amelie was a kook; she was desperate to have some experience. "I do not want to do it first time on people, Chief! Do _you_ think that is good? It is _not_ , no? One must practice!" And so she had been allowed. Cass had come to know of it years later, and had called a stop to it, and she knew that Amelie had obediently desisted.

Somehow Amelie was a lot more confident now; at least she had put the equipment through its paces, and felt that she knew how it responded. The experimental equipment was small-scale, of course; the large cryostasis units were incredibly more sophisticated, intelligent, and semi-automatic.

## Helen's Dreams

Helen dreamed she was behind the wheel. She had to get somewhere—but where? It was a highway, or rather it seemed like a highway sometimes, sometimes it seemed as though she was walking with her car. (Walking?) It was bumper-to-bumper traffic, and her legs ached. Her arms ached, too, just holding the wheel. It was a stick-shift . . . no it wasn't; she wasn't moving her arms at all.

She had dreamed she was behind the wheel for ages. Every muscle in her body ached, and had ached for ages and ages. She could hear a little tune in her head all the time, a fragment . . . what was it? Why didn't her mind work? Then her mind went blank for hours, and suddenly she dreamed again. It was an unknown girl, staring into her eyes, her eyes sorrowful, apologetic. She was speaking to someone else, commenting on Helen's skin tone. After a while, she was back in traffic. She itched, now; that was a new sensation.

She felt a wave of ease wash over her body, and _somehow she knew:_ she was beginning to wake. She could hear voices far away, yet close by. She was still fast asleep, but it felt different. Then she blanked out again.

Helen's friends had argued among themselves and with her family about the hibernation procedure. In the end she had agreed to have the whole thing televised; she had disrobed and stepped out to the sterile floor, been swabbed, and quietly jabbed with the sedative, lain down in the cryogenic container naked, in front of the small camera, and slipped into oblivion.

It was agony to know exactly where you were and what was happening to you, and to be just a millimeter away from being awake. The sleep was over. She could feel a minute vibration; she was on the ship. She could tell the vibration of a ship from the vibration of a building; a skyscraper swayed in the wind, the air-conditioners hummed, ventilation fans rumbled . . . this was different. Oh god, she thought, I can't wait any longer . . . I've got to wake soon. She knew she was being sedated; there was no fear or panic. It was simply a need to be conscious; that was all. I want to sit up and talk, to ask questions, to _see again!_ I want to hear again, not this endless soft whispering!

She felt her brain coming fully alive, all the thoughts as clear and crisp as clean writing on fresh paper! She could feel her skin—god, she was naked, but she didn't care—the itch of the fur on her skin responding to the chemicals. Suddenly she realized her eyes were closed; she could feel light on her eyelids. Sounds became clearer, and she could understand what they were saying. The accents . . . they were strange. No, there was a familiar one; a Frenchwoman speaking English! Helen was amused.

## Waking Up

"She's smiling!"

"Pulse normal, respiration normal, temperature still a little low. Blood sugar a little high. It's going to stimulate the endocrine system a little."

"Is it risky?"

"No—well yes, a little."

"Is that supposed to happen?" The voice was soft, but there was steel in it.

"I don't know, but . . . oh, I remember; she's diabetic! I almost forgot. There's a diabetic drug in the mix already. I'm so embarrassed!"

"Diabetic? I wasn't told!" There was silence. Helen wanted to cry out that it didn't matter, but her muscles would not obey her.

Cass studied the woman from a safe distance. She had been warned that there could be lots of unexpected problems, and in any case, the controlled circulation system that kept Helen's immediate vicinity free of particles worked better if everyone stayed several feet away. With the lid open, her temperature brought up to normal, in spite of the long sleep, there was something very appealing about the woman, a kind of vitality.

Clearly the reviving procedure had gone like clockwork. Amelie had said that the large apparatus was as unlike the simple equipment she had used on the guinea-pigs as their respective subjects were unlike each other. It had run smoothly, a well-oiled machine that knew exactly what it was doing. Every time Amelie had typed in a command to make a wrong move, the machine had patiently asked her to reconsider, and of course she had reconsidered. It had been a humbling experience. But it was an unqualified success, and Cass glanced at Alison, wondering if her friend thought that she was being incredibly picky. But Allie had eyes only for Helen Nordstrom, and who could blame her? Cass and Alison were both in their sixties, but they certainly weren't _dead,_ for heaven's sake.

The rise and fall of her breast had steadied, and now she sighed.

She remained with her eyes closed a long time, and then her eyes fluttered open. They were a remarkable hazel-green. They were still dewy with sleep, and she moved her eyes slowly, taking her time. They finally came to rest on Cass, in spite of the distance between them.

"How do you feel?" Cass asked softly.

"Fine, thank you," she replied. Her voice was husky with disuse. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "Just a little dry," she confessed.

"Can she have a drink?"

"Just a tiny sip," Amelie said, nervously.

"Can she have a sheet over her?"

Amelie nodded, and went forward to give the revived sleeper a complete visual inspection. A sheet was placed over her, and she seemed immediately more human, instead of the dehumanized mannequin she had seemed to be. Amelie inspected the soles of her feet and her hands, almost reverently. Dr. Joe Springman came forward, a second pair of eyes to back up Amelie's check, and after testing the patient's skin and listening to her lungs, pronounced that she was fine except for some fluid in her lungs, which should clear quickly, or they would have to take steps. Amelie nodded quickly. She had also heard the fluid, but Joe had managed to announce it before she did.

"It's better it should clear up by itself," she said. Turning to Helen, she addressed her gently, with a smile that said more than words. Helen could tell that her health was a matter of pride to the woman. "Your body has been assaulted with drugs for weeks, now. Years. It's better without drugs if we can manage, no? Yes." Her voice was muffled through the mask, but the caring was loud and clear. She meant a lot to these people, and Helen controlled her impatience.

Cass stepped a little closer, to study the new addition to their shipboard community. There was a small camera on the wall about ten feet away, and once Helen was covered, she nodded to the operator, out of sight, and the camera began to record. (The overhead surveillance camera was not for public use; only security and the medical service had access to its data, and only as needed.) Around and behind Cass, members of the ship staff rotated on and off, so that only a half-dozen of them were there at any time.

Amelie put a face mask on her patient. "I want to make sure you have plenty of time to make friends with the shipboard germs, Miss Nordstrom. Do you mind?"

"Uh-uh," she said, and quickly added, "no, not at all." Her voice was now clearer, soft and lower than they would have imagined, her being a soprano, after all.

Her accent sent a thrill through Cass; it was so like her mother's.

She looked around and saw that Alison was gone. She felt inadequate to the task of welcoming this woman to seventy years in her future. Her eyes were dancing round the room with greater liveliness, as if her brain was learning how to run. But always it came back to rest on Cass, with that patient inquiry that tugged at her heart.

"This must be trying for you," Cass said, looking for words. "You must have a lot of questions!"

"Well," said she, and Cass could see her smile through the mask. Cass liked her already. She was not at all what Cass expected a celebrity to be. "What year is it?"

"I'm not really sure," Cass confessed. "We've begun counting the years from the year of departure. It's Year 71. We've only one person on board of the original crew!"

Cass was taken by surprise when tears began to pour down the woman's eyes. They were all quiet in respect. It was a shocking thought that all of the woman's friends, family and acquaintances must be dead. How many years had passed on Earth? Did the question have any meaning? Affected by the woman's emotion, Cass forgot all her physics. Cass made a hopeless gesture of sympathy. The woman blinked her eyes, and, raising her hand for the first time, wiped her eyes with a gesture that was curiously graceful. Oh god, Cass thought, this can't be happening. I've only seen her clearly for a couple of minutes.

"I knew . . . that when I woke, everyone would be gone," she said softly, her voice still drenched with her tears. "They'd have been gone long ago!"

"Well, Lizzie's just ninety-five," Cass offered, lamely. Helen stared at her for a long second, and a gentle smile crinkled her eyes.

"If you had turned back thirty-five years ago," she said, and thought for a while, "when you arrived back on Earth . . . everyone would have been more than seventy years older," she said, sounding a lot more confident about her facts than a mere musician should have been. "It's the Twin Paradox," she added, with a touch of condescension.

Cass nodded quickly, frowning slightly. "I guess I knew that, but I'm a little overwhelmed right now," she admitted. "What you must be going through makes me . . . I don't know; it must have taken tremendous courage."

"Not so much," she said.

Amelie insisted that Helen rest her voice frequently. She would have preferred if Helen didn't talk at all, but something in Helen's body or brain insisted on keeping her awake, asking questions, talking to Cass. It was as if that mind had stored up questions for seventy years. But she was obedient, and rested her voice and sipped water, as her eyes roamed all over the room, taking in everything. Cass had asked whether she would mind being televised, and she had shaken her head. She had then asked that their conversation be muted out. Cass had agreed at once. The ship's population would love to see the new passenger, and listening to her voice could wait until she was ready for it.

"Why did you say it did not take much courage?" Helen took a deep breath, and began to talk. Part of Cass listened intently, while the other part reflected that Helen—she had begun to think of her as Helen, now, not Miss Nordstrom, or Dr. Nordstrom, or whatever—Helen was a stranger here, and she, Cass, was her only friend, and the woman needed a friend, a confidante.

Her love life had been a mess, just before she was persuaded to submit to the cryostasis. In her words, her beloved had left her for another. Someday, she said with a smile, she would tell Cass the details, but she realized that it happened to everyone. But, at that moment, it had been easy. Later, she had regretted promising to do it. But having given her promise, it was not so hard to go through with it. "They explained how it worked," she said, "and I believed it was safe. And I was right. I've been very healthy up until now," she said cautiously, and Cass smiled at the superstitious tone of that confession. It was as if she was reaching out to touch wood. "I knew that if anyone could survive it, I could."

"You certainly did, beautifully," Cass admitted, smiling.

They studied each other, and Cass wondered whether the same thoughts went through the girl's head. Though the woman had been born some forty years before Cass, she was still a mere thirty-some years old. Resentfully Cass admitted to herself that the woman before her, after a complete recovery, might easily look a youthful nineteen. She had had an Earth education, and knew a great deal more about many things than did Cass. But she was a mere child in other ways; Cass knew vastly more about life on the ship, at least, than this girl.

"Can I get you anything, while I'm up?" She had looked eager, as if expecting the question, but her face fell. Cass smiled. "Anything you would like to do?"

"Could I see outside?"

"The Ship?"

"No, the . . ."

"Out into space?"

"Yes!"

Cass grinned. She felt a little thrill go through her at the thought that this woman was not so hard to understand after all. It seemed a perfectly intelligent thing to want to do; they were crossing the vastness of interstellar space; few Earth-born folk had the privilege of looking out into the deep. Cass said she'd work on the problem.

Cass made herself comfortable at the girl's bedside. A phone was brought in, via which Cass was able to keep up with her work.

Amelie rigged something she called an ionizer in the little room. It was a gadget that got germs out of the air, a small-scale version of the thing they used in the schools for keeping the kids from spreading colds. Helen took off her mask, and the two of them were able to have a normal conversation, and learn each other's habits of expression. After a while, the intense physical attraction Cass felt for the woman eased. She could feel the woman's effort to make that happen. They were small, subtle things: the tone she used, always polite and warm, intimate, eager, but somehow subtly barriered. Cass had been reading up more background about Helen Nordstrom from the archives, and based on some of the more critical accounts, Cass's suspicions that she was a highly emotional, oversexed slut were put to rest. She was possibly those things, but she wasn't an untactful, spoiled brat by any means. She longed to introduce her properly to Alison and to Art, the most important people in her life, and to Lizzie, and Summer. Somehow she guessed Helen would get a kick out of Summer!

A little later, an enormous monitor was brought in. They had set up a feed from the big window in the _Piloting Nacelle._ The Nacelle was a highly exposed location that was used for close maneuvering in and out of dock, and otherwise left unoccupied except for cameras. Helen could control the camera angle of view all round, and aim it back at the ship, too. Cass watched with admiration at how quickly Helen learned to make it do what she wanted. Her expression made Cass smile; there was an intense fascination there that was not to be found on ship, since the shipboard population could look out of the observation windows whenever they wanted. Finally, she tired of it. She had inspected a full sphere round the piloting pod, and Cass could see her mind ticking away, questions being filed, to ask when a technician was available. She seemed to regard Cass as a mere politician, though she never said so.

They had wondered where to house her, what to do with her until she found her feet on board ship. But as the hours wore on, Cass hoped that Helen would choose to live with her, Cass. Her vitality, her entire personality was so magnetic, yet so non-threatening, Cass felt that she could hardly bear to let her even take a nap. And for her part, Helen seemed willing to talk forever.

Helen had been revived early in the morning. Around noon Amelie insisted that Helen should rest, and lowered the lights.

Cass was allowed to stay, provided she kept quiet. Cass blushed; it was galling to be treated like a child, when she was the second most powerful person on the ship. Within seconds, they were both asleep.

Cass woke to find those keen hazel eyes studying her. Seeing her awake, Helen smiled.

"Are you married?"

"Oh yes; I have five children. There's Karin, Steve, Wesley, Ruth, and Sarah. They're all married, and all but Sarah have children, too! Oh, I so want you to meet my youngest grandchild, Summer!"

Helen smiled. "Is she a pretty child?"

"No, but . . . you'll see! She's interesting. She has a pet caterpillar; that kind of thing. Before that it was a grasshopper!"

Helen grinned, her nose wrinkling up in amusement. Cass noticed how similar Helen's manners were to those of the old generation that she had revered; especially Lizzie and some of the charming older women among the Hippies; Caroline and her friends. (Laura Hutchinson's personality had leaned toward the stoically undemonstrative. Cass realized she had modeled herself more on Lizzie than on her own mother.) It appeared that Helen had just the right balance of restraint and warmth.

"I'd love to meet her!" Helen said.

"And my friend Alison," Cass added quickly, smiling. Helen's eyes searched her face, and she smiled, nodding agreement. "And Lizzie McClintock!"

"Is that the lady . . . the last survivor of the original ship's complement?"

"That's her. She's an ardent admirer of yours, and she's dying to meet you!"

Helen's face grew serious. Cass wondered what she was thinking. "I'd like that," she said simply. Perhaps she thought that only Lizzie was left of anyone who had experienced Helen's one-time fame. Celebrity was like the proverbial tree falling in the forest. If all your fans were dead, were you still a celebrity?

Helen said she felt sleepy shortly afterwards, and Cass tore herself away to keep her appointment with her daily visitors at the elementary school. She was bombarded with questions about Helen Nordstrom; what was she like, what did she think of being revived, how did she like the ship, and how soon would she be up and about? That evening, Alison came with her, and when it became clear that the ship's populace was teeming with questions, Cass called her office, and a press conference was set up right there in the school.

"Helen Nordstrom had been successfully revived, as I believe most of you have seen already. She seems in good health, and we had a long, long talk. She's a wonderful, eloquent lady, bursting with interest in everything around her, beautiful, intelligent. It's a joy to listen to her speak! Obviously, the important thing is to make sure she stays healthy; after all, she isn't accustomed to whatever viruses are in the air of the ship, and she must be acclimated gradually. But it's a tremendous boost to the morale of everyone on board, I'm sure, to have her with us, and we will all come to be grateful for her presence among us! I'm thinking of taking a break from these afternoon visits down at the Segment elementary school. Once Dr. Nordstrom's health has been stabilized, I fully intend to resume these visits!"

Helen woke up in the middle of the 'night' and found herself all alone. She had dreamed of her last few days before freezing, the fights she had with those closest to her.

The hallway was dimly lit, and from the soft sounds from out round the corner Helen knew that her wakefulness had been noted.

There was a little gadget strapped to her upper arm that apparently told them all about her. There were no trailing wires, nothing; just something that might have been a watch, or an arm bracelet.

Helen thought about the woman who had welcomed her to this place, Cass Hutchinson-Holt. Cass. Helen smiled. Cass had been a kid's name, in her memory. It was funny how names went in and out of favor! She wondered whether _Helen_ was an 'old' name or a 'young' name now.

Again, the thought of Cass popped into Helen's head.

This was intolerable; she knew no one except this Cass, and she hated the thought of clinging to her. But she felt all at sea, and Cass was the only rock to which she could cling. Everyone whom she had ever loved was dead, long dead! Didn't she have the right to cling to _someone?_ As if the effort to control her feelings was too much, Helen felt drowsy, and fell asleep soon after. The next thing she knew, she was being checked by a nurse wearing a surgical mask. They seemed to be really apprehensive that Helen might catch something.

For the first time, Helen was escorted to the bathroom, and she surveyed the fittings with a curious eye. Things seemed to look pretty much the way they had looked when the ship left earth; presumably the human anatomy hadn't changed much. She caught her reflection in the mirror, and froze.

Of course, she looked exactly as she expected, but the sight brought home with a vengeance the realization that she was in another time, another place, far from home, out of place, a stranger.

"Oh dear," said the nurse softly in that interesting accent that some of them seemed to have, "you must long for a shower!" She picked at Helen's hair, tidying it. Helen felt a wave of gratitude to her. They were all full of concern for her well-being.

Helen asked for a toothbrush, finding it a little difficult to make herself understood. Apparently it was an outmoded piece of equipment; everyone used a different kind of gadget for the same purpose, and they didn't trust her with it. After Helen had done her business, she was led back to bed and given a sponge bath. It felt wonderful, and every luxury almost made her cry with pleasure.

Finally, Cass came to visit.

## Helen Has Guests

"I have some guests for you!" she announced, and the big monitor was switched on. It had been arranged for Art, Alison, Summer and Lizzie to meet Helen via closed-circuit video. She was propped up on the recliner-bed with a light throw over her lap, wearing a smocked top, her tightly curling blonde hair in a thick loose braid that hung forward over her shoulder.

"That is my husband Arthur," Cass said, giving him a fond glance, and Art nodded and smiled, murmuring something polite. After all these years, he still had the boyish charm that had captivated Cass years ago. Helen greeted Art with a charming smile that stopped well short of flirting, but it still made Cass want to frown. Was it their custom to flirt with older men? "And that is my friend Alison, Alison Warren-McClintock."

"I'm so honored to meet you," Alison murmured, smiling awkwardly.

"Hello!" Helen said, looking into Alison's eyes, "Pleased to meet you, too!" Cass watched Helen interact with the visitors with almost irrational jealousy. Helen's behavior to each of them was strictly proper, but within those limits, very warm and interested.

And Summer and Lizzie were given the warmest greetings of all. "This is Elizabeth McClintock," Cass introduced.

"Hello," said Helen, "I've heard a lot about you!" No diplomat could have said it with more charm. She certainly had the manner of a princess, Cass thought to herself.

"Just call me Lizzie, Dr. Nordstrom! You know I saw you when I was sixteen?" Helen nodded, smiling a little awkwardly, which could have meant _yes, everyone saw me when they were sixteen,_ or _yes, I was told of that_.

Apparently, thinking about those days was still not easy for her.

"Call me Helen, please!"

"She doesn't like being called Dr. Nordstrom," Cass contributed with a smile. "Please sit down, Lizzie. We've agreed that you should have the lion's share of Miss Helen's time for these first few days!" A comfortable chair was found for Lizzie, and she sat slowly and carefully.

Helen grinned at Summer expectantly, and Cass corrected her omission.

"And this is Summer Levin, my granddaughter!"

"Hi!" said Summer pleasantly, giving Helen a little wave. She hadn't lost her cool, unruffled manner. She sized the stranger up, and decided she was okay, which she signaled with a relaxed smile. "You look real young," Summer said, in her direct way.

"Did you expect me to look a lot older?"

"Not really," said Summer, truthfully. "I don't know _what_ I expected!"

They all sat round the camera and talked with Helen, quickly succumbing to her spell. Young Fred, the caterpillar, had been brought to see the new wonder through the walls of his bottle, at a safe distance. Helen had the art of being interested in everyone she spoke with. Cass listened with wonder as Helen cautiously learned much about shipboard life without asking for a detailed description of it. Somehow she drew Summer into the conversation as if she were an adult.

"I often wished that the weekends were longer," she had said to Summer, smiling.

"How long were the weekends, when you were a kid?"

"Two days, Saturday and Sunday," Helen and Lizzie said together, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question.

"Oh, it's the same now," said Summer, " 'cept Friday is a half-day."

"Wasn't it usual to have a long break from school in the Summer?" That was Alison.

"Oh yes," said Lizzie, "Three months, almost. But then, we had the farms to tend to; my mother would make cheese, and I helped. People had stopped making cheese in their houses, already," she added, "but we did it. Some people would only buy _our_ cheese; it was that good!"

"Is there cheese on board ship, or must you make do without?"

Helen was answered with a laugh all round. "There's cheese, all right," said Cass with a wry smile. _"I_ think it's good, but Lizzie can't stand it!"

"It's just a synthetic, dear," Lizzie said, looking very disapproving. "We had cheese on board, in the stores. We stretched it out for almost 40 years, but it's all gone."

"Do you have any family, Miss Lizzie?" Helen later asked politely.

"Why, there's one right there! This is my eldest," Lizzie said, shaking Allie's shoulder, making her grin, "and also my youngest! And there's a grandson, and two great-grandchildren," she said proudly, fishing in her purse for photographs. She lived with her great-grandchildren, but she carried the photographs with her, as if they might be parted from her at any moment. Helen smiled at Alison, as the latter indulgently watched her mother looking for the photos. Alison wondered whether Helen saw any resemblance.

A nurse appeared, and greeting the group on the monitor politely, began to give Helen a checkup. She declared that things were going well. All afternoon Helen had been clearing her lungs and coughing, very politely, and apparently things were going smoothly.

She had eaten just a little, earlier in the day, and in spite of their urging had refused to eat enough. "Perhaps, if all of you join her, she'll eat a little more!" the nurse said, trying to frown convincingly, but failing. They all readily agreed to have whatever Helen was having, a sort of video-linked meal to welcome the new "arrival." Food was arranged at the other end, while Cass was set up with a small table near Helen. When the food was brought, Summer's eyes grew wide. It was a wonderful spread, designed to tempt the most jaded palate, yet not overwhelming for someone whose appetite was poor.

They began to work at their food. Inevitably, as soon as the edge was taken off the hunger of the visitors, there were numerous curious glances at the new girl on the block. In spite of her being the youngest among those present—except for Summer—she radiated that aura of wisdom, the confidence of a person much older. She ate slowly and efficiently, using knife and fork, the hard plastic fork held in her left hand, the way Lizzie used it, making hardly a sound on her plate. She said the food was wonderful, though Cass wondered how sincere that was. Summer agreed at once; the fare in the Levin household was rather simple and minimal, and little Summer was always on the prowl for more food. Cass often brought the girl home to feed her some more, but she knew enough not to overdo it. Her second youngest daughter was rather frugal in her habits, and tended to run her home on the lines of a monastery.

"It tastes better, the more I eat," said Helen, obviously embarrassed. After her second helping, the nurse called a stop. Her stomach needed to become accustomed to some of the new food-types it was encountering.

"What happens next?" Helen asked, later that afternoon, when her first guests had departed, and some different ones were present. "I assume I'm not to stay in the hospital—or wherever this is—for much longer?"

Cass, Allie, Greg and Art looked at each other. The others had taken their leave, and Helen had been left with these few. The Continuity program had pointed to parts of the documentation that had detailed suggestions about what procedures to follow after a revival. The subject was to be maintained under close supervision in an assisted living environment for several days, after which permanent living quarters were allocated; there was an adjustment period of a week or two, and then duties were assigned.

In the present case, of course, there was wide latitude in their expectations of the revived person. Cass cautiously began to describe the plans for Helen's naturalization process. She had wondered how Helen would accept the deliberate, careful plan, which had little allowance for the natural variation in temperament from subject to subject, but Helen only nodded agreement. (To their relief, Helen's speech and body language was hardly different at all from the segment norm.) "Well, I'm ready whenever you give the word," said Helen. Cass could see how impatient the woman was to get out of what she called 'the hospital.' In spite of having been told that it was just the freezer facility, she kept calling it The Hospital, which they recognized as the old Earth word for _medical center_.

"There are three segments," Cass began. "They're three cylinders in which almost everyone lives; this is close to one of them, the Tropical Segment. We live over in the Temperate Segment, which is much cooler, all the way at the back, and in the middle is the Ocean Segment." Cass found herself hoping, desperately, that Helen would want to live close to Cass's family. She cursed herself for not having found out more about the woman. There had been a lot on file, but she had for some reason chosen not to read it. All those present were from the Temperate Segment, she realized. It wasn't that she had contrived to keep people from the other segments away from Helen, but that most of her circle and those on the Council were mostly from Temperate.

Helen was watching her, the great green eyes thoughtful. She occasionally glanced at the others, but it was Cass she was watching.

"I'm almost certain I could manage on my own," Helen said with a little hesitation. Cass recognized it for tact, rather than uncertainty. Before they knew what she planned, Helen got a grip on the bed-head, and pulled herself up out of bed. She was tall, very tall for a woman, taller than Art, almost as tall as Greg. "If I can walk about," she was saying to herself as she took a few steps, "I can manage on my own, really . . ."

"Oh. I'm sure you could, but you don't know where anything is—you might just need a companion for a few days, until you get familiar with everything."

Helen nodded. "To show me the ropes; yes, I can see that." Her knees suddenly gave way, and they quickly caught her before she fell. She blushed bright red. "I'm not used to being like this," she said, "I've been afflicted with almost oppressively good health. This is embarrassing!"

Cass was left supporting her, and guided her back to the bed. She felt very warm, and Cass wondered if she was quite well. She felt very _solid._

Finally, summoning her courage, Cass said, "I would be very pleased if you would stay with us for a few days, Helen."

Helen did not react at once, but then her face softened into a smile, and she said graciously, "Yes, I would like that—if it isn't too much trouble. Thanks!"

Art and Cass exclaimed that it would be their pleasure, and that there would be no shortage of offers to host her.

"That's very kind, but I'm really a very private person," she said, looking from one face to another anxiously.

They assured her that she would have all the privacy she wanted.

Now she had to be transported to the home of Cass and Art and their family.

## Moving in With Cass and Art

Clothes were found for Helen, a tall size 8 as sizes on the ship went. Cass and Alison helped her dress, offering her a selection of underwear from which she selected the prettiest, smiling shyly at them. She said she had a weakness for pretty underwear, and expressed pleasure in their design. Apparently it was far more attractive and comfortable than the clothing she was accustomed to. Slacks and a jersey went on next, and then a warm jacket. She was strapped to a travel-seat, which Helen called a _wheel-chair,_ and they were off.

They first headed for the hub via an elevator, accompanied by a young man from the sleeper staff, in case there were problems. At the hub, they waited for a few minutes, in case Helen showed signs of nausea. They were reluctant to medicate her unnecessarily, after the rigors of revival. Only her skin, which looked rather dry, prevented her from looking perfectly healthy.

"We're now in the main shaft of the ship," Cass explained, as Helen realized that they were in a weightless environment. "We'll take another elevator all the way down to Temperate. It takes about half an hour."

"Half an hour in an elevator?" Helen asked, incredulously. "Why so long?"

Cass cocked her head at her and smiled in puzzlement. "How long should it be? It's ten thousand meters!" And in a month or two it would be longer, Cass thought. The elevator would have to be extended.

Helen's eyes grew wide. She nodded slowly.

They maneuvered awkwardly from the radial elevator that had brought them to the shaft into the door of the shaft elevator. The shaft elevator kept them aligned in the same direction as they had entered, so that when it moved, they would feel as if they were moving sideways, like a bus. It would rotate on route to their destination, so that when they docked at the next radial elevator, they would head downward again.

They strapped themselves in, and the thing began to move. There were no viewing ports—after all this was not really a bus, it was more like an underground train. The acceleration was gradual, and they felt little discomfort, though Helen looked uncomfortable. She assured them that if she was in normal health, she would have been fine. It was as though being an invalid was an insufferable nuisance to her. Cass could well believe the woman had never been ill in her life, which was really saying something on Earth. Earth, as they knew, had been a disease-ridden place.

For their entertainment on route, there was a monitor on the wall that was showing the evening news. Helen began watching it with considerable interest, strapped to her travel-seat which had been locked in place on the elevator. There were several calls for the elevator, in spite of Cass's request for a clear run. The thing slowed down at every segment, once to pick up a shipment of express mail for the Temperate Segment, and once to pick up a patient on route to a facility in the Temperate Segment. The new additions to their company didn't recognize any of them, luckily, and talked among themselves. It was a humbling thought that the workers did not recognize the Chief, seated right next to them. She had dressed for comfort, rather than ceremony; that would explain it, Cass thought. Helen studied the men intently, though careful not to appear to stare.

Once they reached their destination, the reception committee waiting there made it obvious who Cass was. She had given instructions to everyone to keep it simple, but when the radial elevator coasted to a halt, there were a dozen folks waiting for her, including Summer, Alison's grandchildren Lena and Ben, and sundry members of the Press. There was a reporter talking into a microphone, saying that the famous Helen Nordstrom had arrived in the Segment. Cass put on her gracious smile and came to the door.

"Is Dr. Nordstrom with you, Chief?"

"Yes, she is," Cass said pleasantly, "and you can have a short glimpse of her, but then, I want you to leave her alone. She's not been out of cryostasis more than a few hours, and . . . she just isn't ready for an interview." Meanwhile, Alison had quickly helped put on the face-mask on Helen. This was a better quality of mask that was translucent, and showed something of the face behind it.

The reporter reluctantly acquiesced, and Cass spoke a few words into the camera, introducing Helen. "As you know, some several score volunteers were put into _cryostasis_ ; that is they were frozen, and put on board when the ship launched. The first and most celebrated one is Dr. Helen Nordstrom, who was successfully revived early this morning. She's still not quite steady on her feet, as you can see, and has to wear a mask for a while, until her immune system is able to cope with whatever few unfamiliar shipboard bacteria and viruses there might be." She stepped aside, and Helen was rolled into view, but still not all the way outside.

Helen waved at the camera and smiled, and Alison, who was in charge of the travel-seat, wondered whether the camera could pick up Helen's face through the mask. The reporter spoke into the microphone to cover the silence, and held out the microphone momentarily towards Helen, her eyebrows raised in unmistakable appeal. Helen smiled and shook her head no, and the reporter stepped back, acknowledging defeat.

Presently only the family remained, and the little procession headed out on foot. Summer and Lena walked close to Helen, studying her with great interest. It had been hard to explain to Lena that Helen was a lady born long before Great-Gramma.

Helen heard her ask Summer, "Does she talk?" to which Summer nodded, a fleeting look of contempt on her face that quickly gave way to one of resignation. After all, Lena was just a little kid, two whole grades below her.

The procession proceeded out past rows of buildings, as in a shopping-mall, with wings extending sideways into areas that could well have been shopping areas. Finally, they passed out through a wide archway, down a ramp, into what looked like an enormous greenhouse, almost half a mile high, with indoor trees everywhere, a full deciduous forest inside the ship. And Helen realized gradually, that this was the world she had awoken into. A gigantic greenhouse in space. It was almost too much for her brain.

Everything went black for a moment, until she got herself under control. She could have dealt with living on something like a space shuttle, only bigger. After all, they _were_ in space. But this was too cruel. It was a cruel parody of a wooded glade on Earth, and Helen had to bite back the tears fiercely.

"These are the woods," Alison said quietly from behind. "They provide some of the air purification, but most of that is done by algae." Helen nodded. "Most people live in the woods, and the schools are in the woods." As they walked along the path, a smooth winding road that seemed to be paved with something like rubber, Helen noticed birds flitting about. It was quite still down here, with none of the vibrations she would have expected with being on a ship, and which she had noticed when just emerging from cryostasis.

It was very crisp here, and though there was no snow, Helen understood that really cold weather would probably not be uncommon. _What did the birds do then_ , she wondered.

The light was fading. Helen judged that it was around five in the afternoon at the time of year the equivalent of late October. The trees were still full of leaves, but they had all turned into their late fall colors, and the light from above was the golden yellow of sunset. Helen looked steadily above her, and saw that the sky was simply an enormous radiator. It must use up a great deal of energy, she thought.

Soon they arrived at a large crossroads, and they made a turn, and arrived at a row of houses, which gradually became more impressive in appearance, if not large. They passed around a large enclosed area, and at long last arrived at a large doorway guarded by a handsome pair of young people, a man and a woman. They opened the doors with a smile, and the little procession passed inside. Alison was explaining that a system of sprinklers watered the forest during the spring and summer, but left the residential parts dry. They were soon in a large reception area of what was evidently Cass's home.

The entire home was on one level. There were upper levels, mostly occupied by young couples who didn't mind the lower gravity.

(She learned later that the taller buildings were against the cylinder ends, and the levels far above the living quarters were occupied by plant and laboratories and stores, and all the way at the top, near the hub, was the machinery that was seldom tended by humans.) Helen was assigned a room that had been last occupied by the youngest daughter, Sarah. It was still decorated with the fanciful pictures of unicorns and elf-like boys that might have pleased a child of Summer's age. Summer regarded the posters with a critical eye, while Cass pointed out the various fittings. It even had an attached bath, a rarity. "By the time Sarah got the room, the others were gone, you see. This was Karin's room originally, and we had a bath put in," she said, apologetically. Alison smiled at the embarrassment of her friend. Cass was easily embarrassed if it was ever pointed out that she lived a life of luxury or privilege. In actual fact, she lived quite modestly, except for a very few exceptions.

The bed was set into an alcove, and looked quite comfortable.

Cass was busy now, making it up. "Do you like green, or would you prefer blue?" she asked, flushing with pleasure at the thought of having Helen as a guest. Alison indulged in a little private amusement at Cass playing house.

"Blue," said Helen at once, bright-eyed. _Two of a kind_ , Alison thought to herself. She herself could never become enthusiastic about colors of bed linen. Helen made repeated attempts to rise, to help with making the bed and getting the room ready, but Alison kept her firmly in her seat. She told her patient gently that there would be plenty of time to get up and about and feel useful.

Summer and Lena trudged back and forth, fetching towels and carrying out old trash containers.

Helen studied the two friends. Lena was a slight, dark-haired girl with lovely almond eyes, a fine nose, perfectly arched eyebrows, and a determined little cleft chin that promised a handsome woman when she grew up. Summer, in contrast, was a round-faced, button-nosed girl with blonde eyebrows that sort of disappeared into her face, and unremarkable eyes. Her one claim to beauty was luxurious hair, straight and glossy, cut to a medium length. Lena caught her eye and smiled. She was evidently far more outward focused than Summer. Helen smiled back.

Soon the little room was ready. Art appeared at the door, and said that it was time for dinner. Cass glanced at the clock set into the wall and exclaimed. "Allie, will you join us, with Lena? Summer, please call home that you'll be staying for supper." "Mom knows where I am," said Summer carelessly, dismissing the request.

"Yes, I'll join you," said Allie. "Summer, call anyway, sweetheart. Give your mother a report." Summer's eyes brightened at that prospect, and she headed out of the room.

"Here's the phone," Cass called after her, but Summer was gone.

They had been so intent on getting the room ready that they had not really been paying attention to Helen. Cass turned to her and asked if she would like a change of clothing. They had estimated her size, and ordered a few items, but Cass assured her that she would be measured carefully and have clothes made for her as soon as possible. Helen murmured soft protests that were barely audible, and which were ignored. Alison realized that she was tired, and helped her into the clothes with a minimum of fuss—a skirt and blouse and a loose jacket. Helen herself took out her braid, allowed Alison to brush it out, and braided it back neat and tight. The hair was untangled, since he had barely moved since she had last combed out her hair. But it was extremely brittle, and a considerable amount of hair broke off in the combing, to Helen's dismay. They could see she was clearly concerned about her appearance, though she tried to hide that from them.

Helen was further dismayed by the fact that Cass and her household ate at the cafeteria. It was only a short walk to The Caf, and they were taken to a private room where the food was brought in a cart, and Cass served it out to them all. Cass had hosted meals there for decades, and considered it _her_ room—though, of course, it was used by other families as well, at other times.

"Do you always eat here?" Helen asked, amazed.

"Yes! Just supper, though; breakfast is made at home, or sometimes delivered," she quickly added. "How was it when you were back on Earth? Had they begun the cafeteria system?"

"No, Cass, it's a ship tradition, didn't you know? Why, your family cooked when we were kids!"

Cass's eyes went wide. She looked at Helen and turned red.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, upset. "I didn't realize this would be new to you!"

Helen smiled and shrugged. "It's just the way you do things here! I can't hold you to the way things were almost a century ago!"

Cass served them all and sat down, and they began to eat. The kids tucked in as if they had been starving, as they probably were.

"It's a lot more efficient," Cass said, apologetically. "And the cooks are excellent."

"My mother was one of the best," Alison said proudly. "Most of the time she had to make common, plain food, but every once in a while, she'd make something different, in a small quantity, and it was just wonderful!"

"I remember when she made pumpkin pie!" Cass said, her eyes bright. "We grew pumpkin 'specially for it!" Art, too, studied their guest. Always a sensitive man, he decided that she was deeply disturbed by many things she was experiencing, and felt for her. Her poise, though, was wonderful. Things that would have made another person go pale elicited only a startled smile from her. She was tired; though she hadn't been exerting herself, her body was nevertheless working hard to bounce back from its hibernation state. The long procedure had begun with feeding her nourishment intravenously—nourishment that was designed to repair her system without much intervention from within. But there still was a certain amount of work the body had to do, as well as the nervous system, and it was simply incredible that she was functioning so well so soon. She spotted him watching her, and smiled. The flirtatiousness of that morning was gone, now; it was as though she recognized in him an understanding that went beyond the kindness of Cass and the patience of Alison.

The medical center staff called during dinner to verify that Helen was fine. There were monitors unobtrusively attached to her whose readings Cass called out to them, and they said the numbers were good, and rang off.

Helen smiled after Cass had hung up. "I imagined that I'd be put in a great big hospital, and kept under observation for days," she said, a laugh in her voice. "I guess I _am_ under observation, but at least it's in a home! And this," she indicated the room, "is almost part of your home, I feel!"

"I'm so happy you're relaxed and cheerful," Cass said, and they all knew it was from the heart. "I can hardly believe this is happening; that you're here, alive, well, and so beautiful and so gracious, and—I have this feeling that you are definitely going to make things happier for us! Helen, you see us calm and cheerful, but that's only because you have given us so much hope. These are dark days for us. It may be centuries before we reach a planet, and it'll all be for nothing if, when we reach there, we're just a pathetic remnant of what we started out as, you see?"

Helen stared at her, her fork frozen in midair. She slowly put it down. "Is it really that bad?"

Cass looked plainly miserable. They all looked at Cass, and she dropped her eyes. "You don't need to worry about it now," she said quietly. "You should study it, and see it with your own eyes and mind, little by little, without—without our overlays of interpretation. Maybe where we see disaster, you will see—normalcy. It's very difficult for us, you see?"

Cass's outburst had a dampening effect on the meal, especially on Helen. She bit her tongue, but the damage had been done. They finished the meal in silence, and afterwards, the kids left with Alison, while Cass, Art and Helen headed back home with the ionizer. Cass pushed the travel-seat, and Helen sank into the upholstery of the comfortable chair, wondering what lay ahead.

## Sissy at the Purple Pumpkin

The Purple Pumpkin was different mostly because drugs were available. Nobody knew, because you had to be clean when you left; you couldn't lurch out of there high as a kite. You went in early, did your stuff, and went home when you were back down.

Most of the kids who came there were Temperate kids, white, with the occasional native coming in just for excitement. The natives didn't do drugs, they only came by when they were bored, or when they had nowhere else to go. The place was owned by two Dropout Dropouts, two guys who had got sick of being Dropouts. It was too boring, and they had decided to apply for a license to run a restaurant and club in the Ocean Segment, and got it. And they had discovered the drugs, and set up the Pumpkin.

It was a good place to meet people. The Ocean kids liked Temperate kids, and the Temperate kids liked Ocean kids—it was one of those things. The big problem was to attract the Ocean kids to come in. They'd much rather seduce a boy or a girl and take them out on the beach. The beaches were always warm, and the young people of Ocean simply spent the nights on the beach, going at it until sun-up. Which was fine by the Pumpkin. But Sissy deplored it.

Sissy came there to dance. Not for dancing, as in a whole bunch of kids shaking on the floor. She had her own stage, and she danced there. She was a dancer. She lived to be watched. The Pumpkin decided she was good, and they let her dance. Some kids preferred to go out with an Ocie, and do a different kind of dance on the beach. Others liked to sit, take a little pinch of snuff, and watch Sissy. She was incredible. She was like water, like a waterfall in slow motion, a kite in the wind, a fish in the water. She wore a gossamer gown. There were stories that sometimes Sissy got into it so much she tore it off, but nobody believed that. She danced until she lay moaning on the stage. Every night.

The night Jake and Brad came in with two girls from the Parthenon Close, it was almost three in the morning. They had decided that Brad would try the drug, and the others would watch to see what happened. They ordered drinks and watched the girl dancing.

"God, she's half naked," said one of the girls with a grimace.

"She's cute, though," said the other. "Jake's staring at her."

"The waitresses are cute, both of them," said the first girl. Their waitress was a pretty blonde, her hair pulled back in pins, dressed elegantly in black leotard and pants. She had a wide, heart-shaped face with big, serious eyes. She had taken their order without a fuss, and they'd been impressed with how nice she was. There was none of the wisecracks and loud talk one got from the waitresses at Temperate bars. It was refreshing.

"The other girl winked at me," said Jake.

"She did not," said the second girl, "I was watching. She smiled at you. Get a grip on yourself, Jake."

"She smiled. That means she's available."

" _You're_ available, _she's_ available; hmmm. I wonder whether we can get something going here?"

Jake was puzzled. "You mean you'll let me go with her?"

"Why not?" Jake's problem was that he didn't realize girls wanted fun, too. In the end, they left the boys in the Pumpkin, and went out on the beach with a couple of Ocies. The waitress had talked nicely with Jake, and made sure Brad was comfortable. Nothing had happened. The dancing girl had danced herself to orgasm, and lain on the floor moaning. Brad had blown his mind at that. He declared the dancing girl was incredible. Her name, he learned, was Sissy.

Brad dragged them back every day. As soon as classes were over, they went out to a park bench and did their homework. When it was dark, they put their books in a locker, and headed out to Ocean, and the Pumpkin. And they watched Brad watch the dancing girl. And then they all began watching the dancing girl.

Each of them had tried to pick her up. But she wasn't into that kind of thing. She only wanted to dance. She would make eye contact with them, and when they got excited, she would begin to moan. She even went home with them, and slept on their floor.

They grew to like her, and the five of them became kind of a gang.

Once in a while she would dance for them, in private, in the apartment they now shared, and when they couldn't stand it anymore, they would make love, and she would dance by herself.

And then she would disappear.

# Year 72: Helen finds her feet

## Helen Gets an Apartment

It took a couple of days before Helen's legs would obey her.

Summer came by one Friday early, just as Helen was planning to finally do something about her hair. "There used to be conditioner, which you could put in your hair to make it smooth and healthy," she said, looking at Summer doubtfully. "You probably don't need that kind of thing, huh?"

Summer shrugged. "Aunt Karin would know that sort of stuff," she said. "Shall I ask her?"

"Aunt Karin?" Summer nodded. "Okay . . . think she'd mind us bothering her with that . . . ?" Summer made a dismissive gesture. "Go ahead, ask her," said Helen nodding.

Just then they heard Lena at the door, asking for Summer.

Summer rolled her eyes. Helen smiled; some things had been just too neat to give up, she guessed; and eye-rolling was one. For all her professed scorn of Lena, Summer was very fond of her friend. She had confided to Helen once that Lena was a lot smarter than she appeared.

Lena peeked in the door, and Summer told her, "We're going to do Helen's hair. You're in charge; I'm going to call Aunt Karin." Summer hurried off.

Lena's eyes brightened. "Great! Have you washed it yet?"

Helen looked at her doubtfully. "Maybe we should wait for Summer," she said.

Lena laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not as dumb as she says I am!" Her laugh was like pure sunshine, and Helen was won over. Lena got her seated by the tub, and they began. Helen had not washed her hair for several days, and she could smell the perspiration in it.

She leaned into the tub while Lena washed it in water that was as cold as Helen could bear. Her clever little fingers massaged the mild shampoo into Helen's scalp, and Helen felt herself melt with pleasure. Her scalp felt finally clean. They rinsed the hair, which had been cut to about six inches below her shoulders.

"She says use Nutri-Rich. Heat it with hot water, leave it on for five minutes, comb the hair out, and let it air-dry."

"Okay, I know how. Go get the stuff."

"Hey, _you_ go get it!"

"I'm gonna heat up the water," Lena explained patiently. Summer was a genius, but often dense. Helen was only able to smile over their antics for a minute before they were back. Cass and Art were always very busy, but Summer visited every afternoon, and Lena came by every other day, and Helen was convinced that only the two little girls kept her from utter depression. Nothing upset them for long; they found pleasure in the tiniest things.

Lena supervised the procedure with patience and skill. The warm oil felt greasy, but Lena kept it off Helen's scalp, and the result was spectacular. Her hair had embraced the conditioner like a thirsty man grabs a whiskey, and soon the greasy hair became lustrous rather than shiny, as it penetrated. The girls looked at her with awe.

"You look beautiful," Lena said, wide-eyed, not seeing the irony reflected in Helen's eyes. To the least discriminating eye, Lena was beautiful. Only her extreme thinness stood in the way of its recognition.

Summer nodded wisely. "A little makeup, and you'd look great," she said.

Cass was stunned when she hurried home that Friday. She hated to have to leave Helen home alone, at the mercy of her granddaughter. It was not that she didn't trust Summer; it was that she longed to talk with Helen; Helen's mind and personality drew her like a magnet. Cass was a strong-minded woman, but this was something entirely new; a woman of recognized intelligence, with a unique perspective on the ship, its condition, and its mission. This was Cass's life, and she sensed that it would become equally important to Helen.

When she saw Helen, she froze in amazement. The little girls had made her up carefully, with instinctive good taste, filtered through Helen's own sense of proportion. Helen's twisted smile only gave an edge to a beauty that left Cass breathless.

"Oh my," breathed Cass, "I must call Alison!" Twenty minutes later Alison strolled in and paused, staring at Helen.

"I knew your reputation," she said quietly, her smile tempered by a certain something. "But it's something else to see it with my own eyes!"

Helen gave her an embarrassed smile. "If you let your granddaughter do your hair and your makeup," she said, "I'd probably say the same for you!"

The older women consented to submit to the ministrations of their grandchildren, and true to Helen's prediction, they were indeed transformed, so much so that Art was inspired to take the three of them out on the town. The medics gave the okay to take Helen out without the ionizer, as long as she was kept away from very crowded places, and provided she was given some additional protection. A paramedic came by to administer some kind of prophylactic, and the air in the entire Segment was adjusted to minimize the risk of infection.

"I'm impressed," said Helen in an awed voice. "You can sanitize the entire ship, just for me?" For the first time, Helen walked out of the house on her own feet.

Alison had sent her granddaughter for a change of clothing, and she had changed quickly in the little workshop tucked away round the corner from the front entrance, wearing a pair of chocolate velvet slacks in which Cass had said that she looked 'handsome,' and a soft coral blouse with a simple high collar-less neck and full sleeves. Her hair had been French-braided by the girls to minimize the grey, and hung down her back, gleaming beautifully, tied in a broad black velvet ribbon. As she came round to look for the rest of the party, she had to pause once again at how Helen outshone them all. Tall and regal, her gleaming golden hair was pulled tightly back from her oval face, her eyes given an almond shape, almost like a swan, by the fanciful makeup of the kids. But she had softened her expression and bent towards Cass in such a way as to make the older woman glow. Cass looked every inch the fairy queen, golden, her blonde hair gleaming in the soft lights of the hallway, the color of her eyes accentuated with cosmetics, her lips made cleverly sexier. After ten years, Alison felt alive again, ready for anything. And the way the other three looked at her made her feel beautiful.

It was a dream of an evening. They went out to a restaurant for dessert, which, of course, Helen refused, then to another place for drinks. There were several of Cass's and Art's friends there, and Allie and Helen were left alone for a while.

"I've never had a chance to talk to you," Helen said, smiling warmly. "Tell me about yourself." Alison nodded. She had known this moment would come.

"I've . . . never wanted to marry," she said simply. "I never found the right person. Robert's father was . . . a good friend." She looked up into Helen's eyes and found understanding there. She smiled.

"But I have Cass . . . we've been friends—oh—ever since we were born! We grew up together, and I could never love anyone more than I love Cass," she finished. "And now there's Lena and Ben, and my life is full. And all the trees, they're my children!" It seemed to Alison that there were tears in Helen's eyes as she listened. Like Cass, Helen had great empathy. She felt almost afraid to ask Helen for her story. There was something at once encouraging and forbidding in her manner. She phrased her question carefully.

"If you'd like to talk about your life, I'd like to listen."

Helen took a deep breath.

"I fell in love when I was fifteen," she said. "Since then, I've fallen in love dozens of times. Some of them were—really important; some of them became just friends, good friends. But some were important," she repeated. She seemed finished with that thought, and then added barely audibly, "very important!" And the look she gave Alison seemed full of hurt.

"Did she belong to someone else?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth Alison bit her tongue. They had just escaped of their own volition. In the dim light, Helen could not see her embarrassment.

Helen drew in her breath sharply. "I didn't actually say that—the person—was a woman." Alison tried to keep her lips from trembling too much.

"I meant to say: the person! Did—the person—belong to someone else?"

"Briefly, yes," said Helen, looking straight ahead. Alison's heart filled with gratitude that Helen let her get away with her slip so lightly. "But, even after—the person—had a brief affair with someone, we began seeing each other, only as friends. It was very hard." It was eerie, to hear this very sophisticated woman speak of her love in such simple, childlike words. The problem was so universal, so human, it was almost comical. Only the fact that Helen was such a sensitive soul made it so painful to her, and Alison knew that the wound was still raw.

She reached out a hand to place it on Helen's forearm.

"Life would be so much simpler if one never fell in love," she said, smiling sadly.

Helen covered Alison's hand with her own and pressed it. She gave Alison a wry smile. "I'm grateful you didn't say I'd find someone else!"

"Oh, you will, and you'll have your heart broken again and again," Alison said with a grin. "It's having a heart that's the important thing, not having it unbroken, you know." Helen laughed softly, a light, girlish laugh that made Alison's own heart leap with joy.

When Art and Cass finally said goodbye to their friends, they rejoined Helen and Alison, and they walked outside, and into the woods. There was said to be an open-air party that night, with dancing. All four of them had drunk, and somehow it did not seem to Helen that she was out with three people in their sixties; they felt very much younger. Perhaps Helen had infected them with her relative youth, perhaps folk on the ship aged more slowly.

They got to the party, and Helen almost forgot that it really wasn't a forest glade. The light could almost have been moonlight mixed with street-lamps, just like Earth. The music could almost have been a live band, but was a recording. But the dancing was real.

Helen surprised her companions. She danced beautifully, and after she had danced with Art, she danced with the two women. Then they sat and watched the other dancers, most of them in their twenties and thirties, with the kind of odd regret with which parents watch their children's generation go about romancing.

"Go, get out there and dance," Cass urged Helen, her eyes shining.

"I shouldn't," Helen said, "I'm a little drunk. In the mood I'm in, I . . . anything could happen! No; I'd rather watch from here," she said.

"You don't have an implant?" asked Cass.

"Is an implant what I think it is?"

"It prevents conception."

"No, I . . . I don't have one. At least, I don't _think_ I do."

"Hi, Sis! Hi, Allie! And who is this?" Helen looked up startled at the tall gentleman who had come up to them.

"Hi, Ted! Helen, this is my brother, Ted. Ted is a doctor, and recently divorced from his lovely former wife, my friend Josie, whom I miss _very_ much."

"Come on, now, Cass, I haven't hidden Josie where you can't find her, you know."

"You know she won't take my calls, Ted!"

"Yes, she will. Call her! Here, use my phone!"

"Ted, this is Helen Nordstrom, of whom you must have heard by now!"

"Oh, my goodness! What are you doing out here?" Ted was agitated, and Cass and Art had to calm him down. They explained about the steps that the Medical folks had taken. Ted cursed. He had sensed the change in the air, and he expressed his frustration that it had been done without a general warning. Some of the ship's population were sensitive to changes in the air, and needed to be told before the purification mechanism was switched on. Cass placated him saying that the Medical service had probably alerted security and paramedics and all the hotlines to respond appropriately if anyone called.

"Ask her to dance, Ted," Cass urged. "She's afraid to dance with strangers, in case her hormones get the better of her!"

"Jeeze, Cass, you're drunk!" accused Allie.

"I'm not!" gushed Cass. "I'm just happy, and I want her to have a good time!"

"She meant precisely that," said Ted, as he and Helen danced with abandon. He was a dashingly handsome fifty, and an excellent dancer. Helen had to work hard at keeping a comfortable distance away from him, but otherwise it was like floating on air. The alcohol made her feel a little out of control, but she clung to the thought that at least she knew what was going on, and so far Ted hadn't made a move on her. "Cass wants you to have a good time, but I'm too inhibited, even though I'd like to do you-know-what."

"Thanks for the warning," Helen said, smiling.

That night, Alison stayed over, and Helen invited her to sleep in her room. A trundle-bed was set up for her, and they talked until late.

"I think they were wise," Helen said with a sigh. "I'm not ready to live on my own still."

"Of course you're not," Alison murmured.

"And I don't want to overstay my welcome here," Helen said.

"There's no fear of that," Alison assured her. "Cass would love to adopt you forever. But . . . I don't think you can accomplish what she wants you to accomplish if you stay here much longer."

"I see."

Alison held her breath. This was the second time she had blurted out something that should have been broached cautiously. It couldn't be easy for Helen to be told that she was here for a reason.

She had the right to feel that she was simply a part of the ship, not some tool.

"Please don't misunderstand," Alison found herself pleading. "Cass would rather have you here with her than solving our problems."

"I know how you feel about Cass," Helen said gently. "I don't think it's wrong to put the good of the ship above the good of a single sleeper."

"No, Helen; you're not just any sleeper."

Helen laughed.

It was a couple of weeks before Helen was ready to ask to be allotted an apartment. She was important enough to be given a ground-level apartment, the most desirable kind. She refused a companion. No, she said, all she needed was someone to check in on her once a day, in the mornings. She could call for help later in the day if she needed it.

She was given a newly-vacant apartment in a remote part of a complex close to both Cass and Alison, and Summer's parents, the Levins. Helen had not yet met Summer's folks; every time Cass tried to set up a meeting, the Levins had been busy. But they had spoken over the phone, and Ruth, Summer's mother, had given permission for Summer to help Helen in the evenings, and Daisy had similarly said that Lena could do the same.

It had taken a couple of days to clean up the apartment for Helen.

She had also asked for the kitchen to be made fully functional. Most kitchens had become simply facilities for warming pre-cooked food, and Helen had requested the capability to actually cook, even if it was only occasionally.

She had been assigned a girl called Mary-Beth as her _daily,_ in other words Mary-Beth came in to visit every morning around seven, in case Helen needed something. She stayed until noon, or later, on request, and then was free to leave.

Those first few weeks, Helen took the opportunity to quiz Summer and Lena.

"Why doesn't anyone _sing?_ " she asked.

"Sing?" Lena echoed. She was the superior source of information, because she gave Helen straight answers without interposing her own opinion about things. Lena shrugged. "I don't know. _I_ sing," she added. "Usually when I'm showering!"

Helen sighed. "I miss all my things," she said. "Most of what I brought on board are instruments—a violin, a guitar, a keyboard . . ."

"Keyboards? There's lots of keyboards around. Shall I show you where to get one?"

Helen grinned at her. "I don't have any income," she said ruefully. "I can't pay for one."

Lena was confused. She simply did not understand what it meant to _pay for_ something.

Helen was exasperated. "So we go into this place that has the keyboards, right?"

"Right."

"And you pick out the one you want, right?"

"Yup."

"And then you go up to the man, right?"

"Could be a woman, though."

"Fine. And then you—do what?"

"What else? They check your ID, and then you bring it home with you!"

"No money?"

"You mean, the paper things, like in the videos?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, we don't have that. You do IDs instead, and you just bring the things home, that's all." So they went out to the place that had electronics, after Lena had carefully verified that Helen had brought her ID with her, or she'd "get into trouble." The poor fellow in charge of the store could barely keep his mind on the job, because he was evidently infatuated with both Helen and little Lena. Helen, meanwhile, was frustrated with the keyboards, because while they had an immense variety of tones and capabilities, they sounded definitely synthetic. There was an elaborate variety of 'natural sound' synthesizer, which specialized in that, and was far heavier and clumsier. In the end, Helen chose one of the latter, with great reluctance, leaving the elegant and light synthetic synthesizer behind. Lena thought she should have gotten both.

Summer and Lena both had lovely, pure voices, and the three of them spent many hours singing in the afternoons. "You should come do some music at our school," Lena said. "Hah, they don't know nothing about music."

"They don't care about music, Lena," Summer said. "I bet if they wanted to, they could teach us some." But Lena was certain that it was a matter of ignorance. People just didn't play like Helen. When she played, it was like "A symphony, almost. When other people play, it's like an ice-cream cart!" Summer grinned and nodded.

Careful inquiries revealed that Helen's storage quota had been given special treatment. Her violin and her guitar had been stored inside the ship. A day or two after she had inquired about it from Greg, a large crate was delivered to the apartment, and it was opened later that day with Cass, Allie, and the two girls watching.

There were the violin and the guitar, in addition to some of Helen's most beloved and lovely clothes, as well as a set of specialized tools for instrument-making, and Helen's computer, with its data banks filled with music files. Not recorded music, but music stored in printable form.

"I had supposed that there would be printers and paper on board ship," Helen said, dejectedly. "But by now, everything is different; I imagine this stuff can't be printed."

"Let's ask Greg and Art," Cass said. Greg and Art were her main problem-solvers.

Alison closed her eyes in frustration. In spite of everything, Cass never seemed to trust Alison's ability to solve a problem. She went over and looked at the little computer, and the file in question. "Alison knows a lot about computers, too," Cass added hastily.

Among Helen's things were lots of knick-knacks, and she found two items for the two girls; a genuine Earth-type Rubik's Cube for Summer, and a Mr. Potato Head for Lena. "I'm going to make you something much better," Helen promised them. "Wait and see!" At that point, the kids had no idea what Helen could possibly have meant.

## Robert is Missing

One Saturday, Helen had asked to be taken to the tennis courts.

Helen had explored quietly on her own, but still did not have the confidence to go exploring all over the segment. She still shied away from large crowds, though she had not yet given the promised interview to the Press, and was quite unrecognized in her wanderings. Some of the local teenagers were known to have quite a crush on her; if she was out of the house at the time that school was let out on weekdays, she dared not come home, because the boys would follow her. She had tried everything, but it was impossible to convince the silly lovesick teenagers that she was much older than them. "At one time, I could have," she confided in Alison, "but something has changed in my head. Something's gone," she ended lamely, trying to express the helplessness she felt in dealing with people.

The tennis courts were considered neutral territory, and it was considered bad form to stalk anyone on the tennis courts. Helen accordingly wore shorts and tennis shoes, and with the rest of her usual group of friends, she followed Cass and Alison out to the courts. It was very early, and presumably most of the Segment was still in bed. The courts were in an isolated part of the woods, next to the water tank.

While they were there, a frantic call came in from Daisy. "Is Lena with you?"

"Yes, she's with us! What's wrong?"

"Bobby went out this morning for bread, and he hasn't come home yet! Something is wrong!"

"Did you call security?"

"Oh god, I'm too scared! What if something's happened to him?" Cass handed the phone to Alison.

"Calm down. What's wrong?"

"Bobby has disappeared!" It was a whimper.

Alison told her to stand by, and disconnected. Then she called security. "My son has gone missing," she told them after she had identified herself. "Check the surveillance records since six this morning, please!" There were surveillance cameras everywhere, which were never used for anything. But Alison had a hunch, and she was willing to break the law to keep her son safe. She had no sooner sat down on the bench, her knees refusing to hold her up, when her call was returned.

"We can see signs of a struggle just north of where you are, Miss Alison," they said urgently. "We've dispatched a patrol."

"Where? What is it?" asked Helen.

Alison was white. "My son has disappeared. It may not be related, but there's something going on over that way!" She pointed. Sure enough, they heard yells, very faintly. Helen was out of the courts like lightning, with the others following.

It took them less than thirty seconds to come on the scene. It was a sea of blood, and in the middle lay the corpse of Robert Warren McClintock, his throat cut.

Alison and Helen had arrived together, and it seemed to take Alison forever to realize that her son was dead. Helen watched her face, and saw the moment when it sank in. Alison gave a loud cry of agony and loss, and fell into Helen's arms, just as the others entered the clearing.

"Get back!" Helen cried, fiercely. "Cass! Art, take them out of here!" Art stared at her, uncomprehending. Helen kept up her shout until the truth filtered through to Cass. Wide-eyed, she grabbed the kids and stood at the edge of the clearing. The kids fought her, wanting to see. "There's been a fight," Helen called out, holding Alison away from the body. She seemed to want to kneel over it, and Helen wondered why she didn't want Alison doing that. Surely, she had the right, didn't she? "It's an ugly sight!" Helen said, and she knew she was crying.

The truth had sunk in to little Lena. "Oh my god, he's dead! He's dead, I know he's dead!" Helen could see the look in those enormous black eyes of hers, even at that distance, and it was the final blow to her already sick heart. Summer was holding Lena's hand tight, clearly torn between wanting to stay and comfort Lena, and wanting to see.

Finally, Helen allowed herself to look down. Alison was moaning, begging to be allowed to stanch the bleeding, but the blood was clotted now, and there was no hope for him. Helen let Alison go, and took the cold arm of Robert Warren McClintock, in which the pulse had long stopped beating. It had seemed like an hour, but had only been a few seconds. The medics and security arrived, and sized up the situation quickly. Alison was allowed to spend a few seconds with the body, and then the crime team cordoned off the area.

Lena and Alison had to be taken home, and Helen and Cass had to break the awful news to Daisy. Helen picked up the little girl, mere skin and bones, she seemed, hardly any weight, and set off to carry her home to her mother, letting her whimper against her breast. Her arms instinctively went round Helen's neck, and Helen felt a great tenderness for the child. She softly murmured words of comfort as she led the way, with the others following, Alison leaning on Cass, with Cass's loving arm about her. It seemed so odd, that there was not the privacy of a vehicle in this moment; their grief was public. But everyone on the way gave them space, and stood at a respectful distance. Daisy was standing at the doorway with Lizzie and Ben.

Helen had only met Daisy briefly, and did not remember much about her at all. But now she found herself the object of Daisy's fearful, fearsome attention. Helen looked at Cass, but Daisy was looking straight at Helen. "Where is he? _What has happened?_ " She looked at Lena, still held tight in Helen's arms. Helen lowered her to the ground, and Summer came to her to hold her, her face mottled with confused emotions. Helen knew well what must be going through Summer's mind. "Talk to me! _Why won't you say_ _something?_ " Daisy cried.

"Daisy—he's been killed, dear . . . he's gone."

"Oh my god!" The words came out in slow motion, as all hope fled. And she collapsed into Helen's arms, senseless.

There was no information to console Alison and the family. In spite of the surveillance records, there was nothing that indicated what had happened. The loaf of bread had lain near Robert, soaked in blood. No witnesses came forward, no weapons were recovered, in spite of a complete search of the vicinity, and questioning of a dozen passers-by. They would perform a DNA study, and check the body carefully for any clues, but they could tell nothing until all that was done.

Security wanted permission to round up all Dropouts in the Segment. "It seems clear that it was someone on the fringe," the security people said. "Mr. McClintock had no enemies at all, as far as we know. Only the Dropouts could have wanted him dead." 'Dropouts' had become a word synonymous with 'criminals.' Alison shook her head. It seemed too easy to suspect an entire broad class of people.

"I agree," said Helen quietly, coming to support Alison. And Cass agreed, too. Revenge was not worth the social cost of hounding the Dropouts. Helen had always felt protective of all helpless things, as long as she could remember. Instinctively, after Daisy, Lena and Ben had finished comforting each other, it was to Helen that they came for comfort. Cass comforted Allie and Lizzie, as they all sat together, and after a while, Lena allowed Summer to hold her while she cried softly, and Ben went to his grandmother. But Daisy clung to Helen, as if she had known her for years. It was with difficulty Helen disengaged herself to go to the kitchen.

By now, she had a good idea about how things were put away in these two homes which had showed her hospitality. There was a Minestrone mix, and with the efficiency of long practice, Helen began to make a batch of soup. If that was all she could stand to think of having, she reasoned, that was all any of them could stand.

Art had earlier made coffee for the adults, but the children needed something.

All the time since she had gained consciousness on board ship, there had been reports of minor acts of vandalism and violence, a steady rumbling counterpoint to the idealism and strong sense of responsibility of Cass's immediate circle, including Alison and her family. But now, this act of violence against Alison's son shocked Helen. It seemed obviously a random act, since to the best of their knowledge neither Alison nor Bobby was engaged in anything that created enemies. Alison's life thus far had involved maintaining and improving the biosphere of the ship, the careful nurturing of resources that made the necessities of life freely available to the general population as well as the Dropouts. Cass, while she had no personal enemies, stood for shipboard authority, and it might have made sense if one of _her_ children had been attacked. The event shocked Helen deeply. Violence had been common on Earth, of course. But senseless violence on board ship made her fearful and tense.

## Plans for Helen

A few days before that fateful Saturday, Cass had finally broached what she saw as the obvious path for Helen.

"You must give a concert," Cass had said. "That's what we must plan for!"

Helen had smiled and said that all she needed was a good accompanist. "I'd like to meet the musicians on the ship," she said, "perhaps unofficially, so that I can check out what they can do without embarrassing them with auditions?"

There had been a dismayed silence. "You mean, you need—another musician?"

"Ideally, yes!" Helen had blinked at them. What was the matter? "It doesn't have to be someone who's _wonderful_ , you know; I can adjust the program to what they can do!"

Gradually she had come to understand the awful truth. There was no one. There was no tradition of classical music performance—indeed _any_ performance—on board ship. There were skillful disk-jockeys, she was told. Could she sing along with a recording, maybe?

Helen did not know whether to cry or to laugh; in the end, she decided to do the latter. She laughed until tears poured down her face. It was really _too_ funny. From then on, Helen and Cass kicked around endless plans for a musical concert, considering everything from Helen accompanying someone on board who could sing—Cass used to sing, but not in public, and she knew some of the children sang, so there _must_ be someone who sang classical music—to having Helen record her own accompaniment, and so forth.

Once the problems were identified, Helen began to think about solutions. And that had been where it had rested—until Bobby's murder.

That night, Daisy begged them all to stay the night. The Levins, Ruth and Sam and the children, came to spend the night with Daisy and Lena, for the sake of Summer's friendship with Lena. Ben had company in the form of two classmates, Suzy and Charlie.

Everyone stayed except Helen, who apologized to the family, especially Daisy, because she knew Mary-Beth would be upset if Helen wasn't there when she arrived in the morning.

Helen lay in bed unable to sleep, disturbed about the murder. All the glamorous things she had imagined pulling off made no sense in the face of such uncertainty. To make matters worse, there was a news report of a serious fire in their sector, further north.

("North" was towards the nose of the ship, "South" was towards the engines at the tail.)

Soon after the announcement, Helen got a call from Summer. "Did you hear about the fire, Aunt Helen?" She replied that she had. Summer, who had always called her simply Helen, had just called her _Aunt_ Helen. She liked the sound of that, but she wondered what it signified. Lena had done the same: called her Aunt Helen, when she had begged her to stay that night. Her eyes stung with tears at the memory of the hopelessness in Lena's usually bright face. She had hardly known little Ben at all, but they had made friends that evening. He had brought over some candy and offered it to her. He was short and stocky and square-headed, an interesting contrast to his sister, with her heart-shaped face, and long, thin body.

There were video clips of the fire being put out that scared Helen. A fire on board ship could easily become a disaster. What had been the cause of it? It had been determined to be arson.

The next morning Mary-Beth was full of the fire and the murder. She was sure it was the Dropouts, but then she believed that the Dropouts were responsible for everything that was wrong on the ship. She was an attractive and intelligent girl, but this tendency to rely on prejudice for all her thinking annoyed Helen deeply. Helen lashed out at her, and immediately regretted it. Mary-Beth got so startled, she burst into tears, and Helen had to appease her.

"Why did you yell at me like that?" she wanted to know.

"Because I want to know the facts, and simply blaming it on the Dropouts doesn't help at all!"

"But really, they _probably_ account for almost everything bad that happens."

"Or it might be some kid who was doing something bad, and Bobby caught him at it."

"Like what?"

" _I don't know!_ That's where people like you could make more intelligent guesses!"

Mary-Beth frowned. "Hmm." Suddenly her face lit up. "I bet they were manufacturing firearms!"

Helen's eyebrows shot up. "Guns are illegal on board ship?"

"Are you nuts? Of course they are! People went crazy when somebody got shot a few years back! There were not supposed to be _any_ guns!"

She had made a list of things they needed, and now she abruptly hurried off to get them for Helen. Effectively she did Helen's shopping for her, and told Helen what the shipboard equivalent was to various things Helen needed, but for which Helen could not think of a substitute. Helen had wanted a humidifier, for instance, and Mary-Beth showed her how to adjust the settings so that the air did not get too dry. Helen wanted laundry detergent, and Mary-Beth showed her how the laundry in this block was dealt with. Helen wanted a stand for her keyboard, and Mary-Beth showed her how to rig one up with the ingenious multi-purpose parts kept in the closet.

Lena and Daisy surprised Helen with a visit later on Sunday.

Daisy smiled and said Lena had asked to come to visit. Helen was pleased to have visitors; she made them comfortable, and made a fuss over them, happy to have something she could do for the bereaved family. They got ready to leave a half-hour later. Helen told them repeatedly, if there was anything she could do for them, they should ask her. She was free all day, and she could help with anything at all. "I can cook, too," she said earnestly. "Call me if you don't feel like cooking. I don't suppose your mother feels much like it either!"

"You mean my husband's grandmother." Helen nodded quickly. "Oh, I don't think she minds, but . . ."

Helen smiled reassuringly. "You don't need an excuse," she said. "Call me. Give me a hug, Lena!" Lena hugged her tight, and found it hard to let go. Helen looked at Daisy over the girl's head, and saw a sad smile full of gratitude. Helen felt strangely pleased that she had come to mean so much to Lena. Lena had come to mean a great deal to Helen, too; somehow now, Helen had an anchor in this ship. She had come to know many good people, but Lena was special. The child raised her head and kissed Helen, and Helen felt her heart leap inside her.

They said farewell, and Helen watched them walk away strangely moved by their visit.

## Life After Bobby Dies

On Monday, Summer and Lena came to visit after school. They had first gone to Lena's home—Daisy had insisted on that—and gotten permission to come visit Helen.

"Have you given up about coming to our school to teach us music?" Lena asked, after they had talked soberly about inconsequentials for a while.

"Oh. Hmm. I guess I should ask your principal first, right?"

"The Head Teacher?"

"Yes. Is it a him or a her?"

"A him. Dr. Woolley," said Summer. "Tell him Grandma sent you, and it'll be all right."

As a matter of principle, Helen thought it best if it was done a little more circumspectly. She said she'd get started on the plan.

Daisy appeared just around sundown, to walk the girls home.

"I could have walked them home, Daisy," Helen said, feeling apologetic.

"Come home with us anyway," Daisy said, brightening up. "I came to invite you to supper!"

"Oh, you needn't bother, I have everything I need to make a simple supper, but thanks!"

Daisy was so crestfallen, Helen relented, and walked them home.

Supper was indeed ready, a simple meal, but Helen was made very welcome, and given the seat of honor, which had usually been reserved for Bobby. Lizzie and Alison had gone out to eat, for whatever reason, and they had been left alone.

On her way back, Helen dropped Summer off at her home. Suddenly it seemed that the children were not allowed out after dark without an adult. The gradually rising low-level violence was feeding everyone's paranoia.

Helen went on to Cass's home, where she was also given a warm welcome. Helen asked Cass whether she could start her musical campaign in a small way, by volunteering a class in music for the elementary grades. "Lena keeps insisting she wants me to come teach at her school," she explained. "It might not be a bad idea, if it won't disrupt the schedule."

Cass's face brightened. "Well, you know, there's certainly no harm in asking. How do you conduct these classes? Do you need equipment? We still don't have an accompanist— _any_ of those things!"

Helen grinned. "For this, all I need is my guitar," she smiled. "They call it an orchestra in a box!"

Cass promised to reserve a couple of hours early in the day to go down to the school with Helen.

"By the way, you know who would simply _love_ to have you teach their kids?" Helen looked at her quizzically. "The Hippies!"

"The _Hippies?_ What do you mean?" When it was explained to her, Helen was bemused. The complexity of shipboard culture and history was daunting.

## Helen Gives A Lesson

As good as her word, Cass came over just as Helen was giving Mary-Beth her instructions for the day.

"Are you going out, then?" she demanded in her direct way, when she saw Cass. "How am I to put the things away?"

"You have the keys, Mary-Beth; use them in the obvious way!"

Mary Beth made a gesture of warding. "I don't know, Miss Helen. I don't want to be opening up your house when you're gone. I'll leave the things in the back, then."

"That will be fine!" laughed Helen. Then she got dressed, and headed out into the woods with Cass.

They took a turn she had never taken before, and followed the winding path to a clearing partitioned into about a dozen little spaces, in each of which a different group of kids were having a lesson with an adult. They all looked eager and attentive. Off on a side, an older gentleman was consulting with a younger one, their heads together, planning furiously. A young woman sat at a desk nearby, putting things into a filing cabinet. Except for the setting, it might have been an elementary school in the USA.

Cass walked purposefully up to the young lady, and got her attention.

"Chief Hutchinson!" the girl exclaimed softly. "I'll tell Dr. Woolley you're here. We weren't expecting you!"

"Quite all right, Miss Evans! We'll wait."

But Woolley had spotted them, and came over.

"Alex, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Dr. Helen Nordstrom. Helen, Alex Woolley is in charge of this school."

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor—er . . ."

"Nordstrom."

"Nordstrom, yes! You look very familiar!"

"Alex, Helen was Sleeper Number 1. You might recall that she was revived a few weeks ago; well, she is a musician and an educator, and your school has been chosen for a pilot program of music for some or all of the children. I was wondering if you had any ideas about how to get things started?"

Woolley was, like most members of the ship's population, an intelligent man. He wound up his business with the other gentleman expeditiously, and got his visitors seated. A mischievous smile settled across his face.

"So, I've been chosen for a pilot project, have I, Chief?"

Cass smiled her wonderful smile, and then allowed it to fade. "I've known you too long to waste your time with silliness, Alex." The mood of the meeting changed abruptly. "I have a feeling that our education has become too one-sided. It's just a hunch, but I'm willing to stake my career on it. I think Helen could make a difference. Let's start small, and see how it goes. Give her a slot each day, for a week."

Woolley's face was sober. "You have it. For the record, though, I think she's wasting her time here." He gave Helen a grave look. "You should visit the—other folks. They need this more than our children do."

"You're right, Alex. But _all_ our children need it."

He bowed his head, and shook hands with them both. He asked whether Helen needed any extra equipment. She asked whether he had a blackboard she could use, and he laughed. He said everything would be ready when she got there that afternoon, right after lunch, at one o'clock sharp.

At 1:00 p.m. Ship's Time, Helen was at the little school, her guitar strung and tuned and in its case. She had dressed carefully in a long, full skirt and ankle boots, and a cardigan. Her hair had begun to look a lot less glossy, but it was combed out carefully, and tied loosely at the neck. (She had found that if she dressed more grown-up, it kept the teenage boys away.) Woolley greeted her warmly, and led her to a classroom where a young fellow had been conducting a lesson in history. Instead of a blackboard, there was a white board on an easel on which one wrote with a kind of marker. The young man came out to greet them. He smiled appreciatively at Helen, and offered to stay or leave, whichever would be more helpful. Helen thought quickly, and asked that he should stay at least for this first lesson. "I've done this before," she assured him, "but I'm awkward with all this modern equipment!" He grinned and faded into the background.

Helen faced a collection of twenty curious faces.

"This is going to be a lesson in group singing," she announced lightly, smiling at them. "Just for this class, I'd like you to bring your seats round here in two semicircles, facing the center." With the unobtrusive help of the young man, all the students were seated in position quickly. They seemed to be around ten or eleven, and sure enough, Summer sat in the edge of the second row, bursting with excitement. Helen was amused to see the usually unruffled Summer in that state.

Helen brought out her guitar, and tuned it, to much excitement.

They began to ask questions. Was it a violin? Was it a banjo? Was she going to play it? How much power did it have? How long had she taken to learn it? Where did she get it? Was it hers? Helen taught them a simple song, which they sang a little awkwardly. She had never encountered a group of children who sang so badly in all her great experience. Still, they made enormous progress over the half hour. They had rhythm, and she got them doing actions to the rhythms, and by the time she had taught them the third song, they had the hang of it.

The time seemed to fly by. She taught them songs of celebration, songs of love, a song about the beauty of the woods, the old woods of Earth. There was a song about true brotherhood, a song about the horrors of war, and a song about a river.

"The words are often beautiful," Helen told them, when they were in a mood to listen. "But the pleasure that comes in singing together is beyond words. Would you like to have another class like this?" Some of them said they would, other shrugged. Helen was not dismayed, she only smiled.

The Head Teacher was waiting when she finished with them.

"Well? What do you think?" he asked, when he led her out to his station under the tree. "I was delighted to hear you play, my dear! At least, they must have enjoyed listening to that thing!"

Helen laughed and said they probably did. But she was firm that she wanted her full week of classes, so that she could meet with a different group every day. And he promised.

The following day, Helen met with Lena's class, and so on, down the grades. Every group was different, some enjoyed the lesson, some sang indifferently, but listened attentively, other groups could hardly get enough of it. As the week went on, there was great anticipation for the 1:00 p.m. hour, as the children heard about the lesson from word of mouth.

As Helen expected, there was great interest in the guitar itself. The last couple of lessons, some of the teachers asked to sit in and watch and listen. On Friday, Helen was asked to give all the students a concert. The audience consisted of children from six to eleven, and she got them singing softly together, in their pure voices. And for the first time, she sang before an audience, and she felt the old power returning. It was not exactly the repertoire she was trained to sing, but it was all she could do with a guitar. She sang some Schubert, and some Dowland, and some Bach, and a great many folk songs. And the children and the teachers alike marveled at the beauty of it.

Like many great artists, Helen's sexual needs were often unbearable. Especially after a performance, her body screamed for release. Helen accepted the thanks of the Head Teacher and the other teachers, and accepted a small token gift of appreciation with a few gracious words, packed up her guitar, and turned to find Summer, Lena and Ben ready to walk home. Their smiles made it clear that they would consider it an honor to walk home with her.

So Helen joined them in the short walk to their part of the woods, and to the McClintock home, where Summer was usually expected to stay until she and Lena were ready to visit Helen, or whatever the plan for the day might be.

Daisy was delighted to see her, and came to greet her with a quick embrace. Since her husband had died, it was as if Daisy desperately needed the reassurance of a hug at every opportunity, and Helen hoped that Alison and the other members of her circle recognized that need, and gave Daisy the security she needed. She was fiercely protective of her children, and Helen wondered that Daisy did not wait for them at school.

This afternoon, Helen asked for Alison.

"She's resting," Daisy said, "I'll go tell her you're here."

"I could just go knock on her door," Helen said, managing a tight smile. Everything was harder on days like this. Perhaps she could relax if she went home and had some time to herself. But Daisy had hurried off, and came back to say Helen was to go in.

Alison had been working at some papers, and just lain down for a nap. Helen shut the door behind her and dropped into a chair.

"How did it go?"

"Very well, thanks!" Helen said, a little breathlessly. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Certainly."

"Will you hold me?"

If Alison had been surprised, she hid it well. But afterwards, Helen was stunned when she asked a strange question. "Helen . . . why didn't you ask Daisy?"

## Daisy

After that, Daisy's attentions to Helen took on a new light. It seemed to both Lizzie and Alison that, in some mysterious way, Helen had come to represent safety and security and love for Daisy.

It had been Helen who had brought her the news of Bobby's death, and it was she—it was discovered later—whom Lena adored most, next to her mother and her grandmother and her great-grandmother.

Helen learned that though same-sex relationships were common among children while they experimented, it was very uncommon among adults. Cass and Alison were among a very few, and they kept their relationship very discreet. So Daisy's admiration of Helen was something that went beyond reason. Alison reported to Helen that they guessed that it might not have a sexual component at all.

Helen resented Alison bringing up the issue so directly.

"I love little Lena more than anything in the world," Helen said, "but I don't feel comfortable being intimate with Daisy," she said, suddenly a little distant. It was as if the warm, friendly woman whom they had gotten to know had vanished, and the aloof diva had suddenly taken her place.

"Of course it isn't! I'm only obviously concerned about her, and . . . of course you're involved, because she worships you. I wanted to ask you to be gentle with her, that's all."

"Certainly I will, Alison. I won't hurt her. I don't want to be cruel."

Helen let Daisy show her regard in little ways, visiting her, giving her little gifts, showing Helen tremendous respect when she visited them, and so forth. Lena gave to Helen the love she could no longer give her father. And Helen's fertile imagination wondered whether little Ben would resent this someday. All she could do was not to presume on their love, and hope that some man attracted Daisy's eye fairly soon. Perhaps Cass's brother, Ted?

On Saturday, Alison, Cass and Art conducted Helen to the commune of the Hippies. Her reception there was spontaneous and warm. She sat down with a couple of a dozen little ones—some of whom she had already met in Lena's school, and others who were schooled right there in the commune with their highly-educated parents—and taught them a number of songs. Then the older kids came round, and she taught them more complex, sophisticated songs. A few of them were familiar with part-songs, and she taught a small group a part-song from memory. She was invited to dinner with all of them, and asked to return the following day.

That Sunday, Helen was surprised to learn how sophisticated they were in the art of carving wood. She sat down with them, and within a few minutes, showed them how to craft the flat parts of a ukulele. "The sides need to be bent," she said, "we could put it together later this week." Helen and the Hippies had many interests in common. Though Helen was completely at home with technology, she was in sympathy with them in their other goals, such as doing as much as possible without technological intervention. It was not common among them to realize that the two ideals were not mutually exclusive.

After another session, teaching the young folks more songs, singing for them, and talking about the origins of the songs, and their context, they settled down to discuss the problems of the ship, the growing anarchy. They were by no means convinced that it was all due to the Dropouts. "There is certainly a lot of dissatisfaction among the Dropouts, yes," said one of the young people among the Hippies, a fellow called Reggie for whom they seemed to have a great deal of respect. "But the crime that comes from that quarter is easily recognized: disorderliness, rebellion, frustration. The vandalism, the arson, all that doesn't feel like them. It doesn't ring true," Reggie said. He broke down and admitted that he knew a large number of Dropouts, but that they were usually guilty of no more than simple disobedience.

A plan began to form in Helen's mind.

It was clear that the security services on the ship were not geared towards such things as covert operations, infiltration, subversion, the dirty methods adopted by Earth security for decades, resulting in the destruction of all sorts of criminal operations, but also in all kinds of vicious, destructive covert operations whose objectives were misguided at best, and treasonous and contrary to the policies of the governments concerned at worst.

There was a lot at stake here. Those at the top, Cass and Greg and the team of scientists who struggled to keep the mission alive and healthy, they needed to know whether there was a systemic problem in the culture of the ship, or whether a small group of malcontents were terrorizing the population.

Helen could look after herself. Quite fortuitously, one of her earliest lovers had been an adept in the martial arts, and had taught Helen several styles of attack and defense. Her adventures had often taken her into the sleazier parts of many cities, and she had come out alive on many occasions only thanks to her skills of unarmed combat. Helen decided that she would disappear into the world of the Dropouts, and see what there was to be learned.

She could honestly say that she owed nothing to the ship administration. She could call herself Jane Doe, and say that she wanted to leave her identity behind. It was only a very rough plan, but there were some pluses. She could take as long as she wanted, and she would continue to spread her subversive message of music.

There were several miles of ship, she knew, and she would combine all the things she wanted to do: explore the entire ship, find out whether it was the Dropouts who were destroying ship society, and—there was another objective, too. Helen wanted to find love. Here was a new chance: she had been born again in a new world. Perhaps there was someone for her, someone on the ship, a sweet girl with whom she could fall in love.

She had promised to give a week to another school in the Temperate Segment, but after that, she would disappear.

She began to make inquiries about the Dropouts. She had to meet them, she told Reggie. It was of the utmost importance that she met the Dropouts. Reggie took a good look at her, and sat down to talk with her.

That week, during the day, Helen prepared for, and taught a class at, another school. There, too, the Head Teacher welcomed her with open arms, and Helen taught them her songs, this time to a bunch of kids whom she had never met. But in the evenings, after Lena and Summer had gone home, or after she had come home from having eaten at Daisy's table, Helen slipped out, taking only her smaller guitar, a beat-up old instrument she carried on a strap over her shoulder. She wore her hair braided in a single long plait which was pinned on the top of her head like a tiara. It was a wonderful disguise, since it changed the shape of her head, and made her look quite different.

That night, she walked patiently along the road until she came to a landmark Reggie had described to her, and turned off the road, and began making her way by more landmarks she had memorized. It was a heavily wooded area, and she met nobody for a long while. Finally she saw signs of life, and she was accosted by a small group of boys.

## Dropouts

"Where are you going?" Helen studied them carefully. She looked their age, and decided from their appearance that she could handle them. The way they were dressed indicated that they were Dropouts. The look they had adopted was what had been known on earth as the _grunge_ look.

"Who wants to know?" she asked, insolently. Instantly she appeared to be a teenager, like themselves, but a well-dressed one.

One of them grinned. "Look, kid, we'll take you home. We don't want your stupid guitar!"

Helen was impressed. Not everyone knew a guitar when they saw one. "All right," she said, and the fight seemed to go out of her. "I don't want to go back home." She looked intently at each of the four of them. "Maybe I was looking for you."

Three of them looked at the one who had talked to her. His grin faded a little. "Just curious?" he asked.

"Not _just_ curious, but . . ."

"We're not specimens, you know, in a cage. We don't like _explorer_ s."

Helen's courage almost failed; an _explorer_ was pretty much what she was. "I'm not!" she exclaimed.

The boy smiled, and he was handsome. Thoughts of falling in love with the enemy flitted through Helen's head, even as she realized that biologically she was perhaps twice his age, and chronologically maybe more than six times his age.

They conducted her to their encampment, which was a large heated hall, at one end of which was a long table at which some thirty people sat, eating, mostly men. At a circle a little distance away, a dozen or more women and children sat talking. The older teens seemed to be outside, doing their usual teenage things.

"We found this girl outside," said Helen's 'captor.'

"Why did you bring her here?" demanded one of the men, irritably.

"She doesn't want to go home, she said."

The man looked at Helen. He stopped eating. "Well?" he asked, irritably. "Where do you want to go? Have you eaten?"

Helen shook her head. The man indicated the circle of women with his head, and resumed his meal.

Helen found herself seated with a plate of food in front of her. It really was terrible food. The women clustered around her, curious and friendly, and she smiled at them. She began to eat. Her guitar had been carefully placed on a table.

"What is that thing?" one of the women asked her politely.

"A guitar," Helen said, and looked alarmed as a little girl reached out a hand to touch it.

" _Sal!_ Get away from that!" The kid snatched her hand away, her eyes enormous.

Helen managed to get down most of what was on her plate.

Gradually, they began to talk to her, and she was introduced around.

They were depressed and utterly bored, and they listened to her as if she was the most fascinating person they had met.

"Why don't you want to go home?" one of them asked, finally. "Are you running away?"

"Well . . . sort of," Helen said. "I don't fit in, and I'm tired of living alone, and . . . I heard rumors that you folks were real friendly."

They gave her a sardonic smile, and they laughed together. It really was an odd business. In the money-less world of the ship, providing food was no big deal, since food was readily available. But hospitality still meant something; there was shelter, and companionship, which meant more than simply providing food.

"What work do you do?"

"I sing," Helen said. "I teach children, too. And I'm a good cook."

"You _are?_ " Helen looked up, startled. So it wasn't that they _liked_ the food this way; they obviously didn't know _how_ to cook. The word spread like wildfire: the girl who had just walked in could _cook!_

She was in.

Helen offered to sing for them, and they eagerly accepted. From the first note, she had a group of devoted fans. There was music in the camp, lots of it. But a live performance was entirely different.

They gazed at her as if she were an angel. A sad song would make them weep, and a happy one would have the children dancing.

The teenagers slept together along one wall, in two groups, the girls all together, and the boys together. Any sex between the groups was clearly conducted in private; in the night, the girls all shared beds. They owned little clothing, and they hung it up overnight.

Helen found herself cuddled with a girl of about seventeen.

Around them, Helen heard the soft sounds of something going on among her companions. She realized that it was only among adults that straight monogamy was the norm. If she had pretended to be a teenager, she could have had all the sex she wanted.

Her thoughts drifted to little Lena, as they did often in the nights. Helen wanted a child, and not just any child: _Lena._ She had not seen Lena all day, and now she missed her. _That's silly,_ she told herself; there were lots of little kids in the camp, delightful little things. But Lena was special.

The next day, when she got ready to go back, there was no protest. She was apparently not the only one who kept a job.

"When will you be back here? Will you cook for us tonight? We'll help, but you must tell us what to do!" Helen promised she would.

In the school to which she was headed, Helen had the 10:00 a.m. slot. Helen was accustomed to success, now, and just knew how starved the children were for the experience of singing together.

She taught this group the same songs she had taught in the other school; in the back of her mind she thought: it would be something common, something that would draw them together, if they happened to meet sometime.

At noon, she went over to Woolley's school, a twenty-minute walk. She had hardly greeted old Woolley when he exclaimed, "Here you are! Miss Helen, the older children want you to teach them part-songs! I'm not sure what that is, but do you have time?" Helen told him she would love to, but was there time in the schedule? She knew that the technical education on ship was very rigorous; the children were taught a lot of mathematics and physics even in elementary school. But yes, he said, the children had volunteered to stay after school. She had a forty-minute slot right after the kids got out formally at two-thirty.

She was invited to lunch at the school cafeteria, and Summer and Lena greeted her with quiet pleasure. Their usual bounciness had still not returned; it was too soon after the death of Bobby Warren. Lena sat so close Helen could hardly eat her small sandwich.

"Will you come home to visit today?"

"For a little while, love. I have plans for later." Daisy would make supper for her, given the chance.

The part-song went well. She had selected a Scottish ballad, and there were sufficiently many good ears among the kids to make two parts. Lena was one of the clearest, purest voices, and Helen put her in the higher part, with Summer. They blended beautifully together, and with the other two girls and one boy. The lower part had more boys, and more children, altogether. By the end of the session, they had the verse down.

They walked home, the three of them, with most of the singing group going part-way with them. Helen's feeling of alien-ness was long gone, thanks to the warm-heartedness of Cass's and Allie's families, and the love of the two girls.

Daisy looked radiant. She was a slim blue-eyed woman of around Helen's age, perhaps a year or two younger. She had long, straight streaky-blonde hair, usually tied at the neck. She was of medium height, fragile-boned, and now she stood in her nurse's uniform, just returned from work. She came forward and greeted Helen with a soft kiss on the cheek and a brilliant smile.

"How did it go?" she asked them, and Lena said it had been awesome, a word she had picked up from Helen. Daisy glanced up shyly at Helen, as if it had been a foregone conclusion. "I'll go change," she said, and exhorted her daughter to look after Helen.

By now Helen was quite at home in the Warren home. They headed to the kitchen, and they made Helen some tea, and got into the plate of sandwiches that was on the table. Daisy returned, wearing a tiered skirt in blue and grey, and a dove-grey woolen cardigan over a blue mock-turtle necked sweater. The temperature outside was a cool 45° F, and the Warren home was kept cool.

Even Lena wore a sweater today, though Summer wore her usual denim jeans and jacket over the same T-Shirt she always seemed to wear. In the few weeks she had known them the two girls seemed to have grown taller; both their pants seemed a little short at the ankle. Ben poked his head in briefly, picked up a sandwich, grinned at Helen, and headed back out to his toys.

"When do we get to hear you sing?" Daisy asked Helen softly.

Helen looked at her uncertainly. "Oh . . . one of these days, I imagine," she mumbled.

Daisy pushed the plate of sandwiches closer to Helen. "Eat," she urged. She was a girl of few words, something Helen appreciated.

Helen served herself another of the little sandwiches. They were good, but you had to eat a lot of them to make any inroads on your hunger.

As soon as she could, Helen excused herself. Daisy's face fell when she learned that Helen would not stay for supper. Without explaining, Helen hurried home, got back into the clothes she had worn the previous night, and picking up her smaller guitar, hurried off, making sure she wasn't followed.

It was a half-past four when she arrived, and her new Dropout friends were getting anxious.

"We were thinking you decided to go back home!" they said, with worried smiles.

Helen smiled. "I should have given you my card," she said, "I want you to get my supply allocation."

"Well, come on. We didn't know what to shop for!"

"Oh. Okay." She left the guitar with one of the more responsible women, and they headed out with large shopping bags. It was a twenty-minute walk to the closest supply depot, and Helen helped them select the kind of thing she thought she could help prepare.

The women exclaimed with pleasure as Helen chose fresh produce rather than half-prepared food.

They had plenty of time to talk as they walked back. They were not as articulate as the norm in mainstream ship society—at least in this segment. None of them had gone to school; they had picked up as much as they could from their parents. This was a moderately old camp, about fifteen years old. "I like it," said one, "because you can't see the ship once you get in the camp. Not a thing! Only the hub, and you can't avoid that," she said with disgust. "In the camp where I grew up, you could see the edge of the segment, and the nurseries up there. I just couldn't stand the sight of it." They really had barely a clue about cooking. Their kitchen had been set out in their idea of what a traditional Earth kitchen would be, with a stove and large pots, and other things that were more appropriate to the Old West. Their chief cook had just passed away, without having trained a successor. Helen took charge, got some of them tidying and cleaning up, the others slicing onions and putting away the supplies they had brought. All the while they talked; why they lived out here, what they thought of the violence, and so forth.

They vehemently denied that the Dropouts had anything to do with the violence. "Not _our_ people," they said firmly. "We try to forget that this is a ship, you see? We rarely go out there, only to get food, or fabric, or something like that."

"We don't hate the people, you understand? We just hate the ship."

"I can't understand why anybody would set a fire!" Helen said.

Soon a lovely aroma spread through the room, and the women sighed with pleasure.

"How did you _do_ that?" asked one woman, a silly smile of ecstasy on her face.

"I was watching," said another one, with a grin. "I remember everything! It's all here," she added, tapping her temple where, presumably, she kept her data banks. Helen laughed and said it was a recipe everyone should learn.

The teenagers were out of sight. "They're never around when there's work to be done," grumbled one, not much out of her teens herself.

"What about the men?" Helen demanded.

"They cook certain kinds of things well," they replied. "Weekends and festivals, that's when the guys take over."

"Won't it be more fun if men and women cooked together?"

The women looked at each other. They said that they hadn't tried that, but they doubted it would work.

Helen sang again that night, and discovered that there were good voices in the group. There was a girl who loved to sing, and was learning all the songs. The next day, Helen decided, she would ask the girl to sing.

That night, her companion of the previous night sought her out and said she wanted to sleep with Helen. Apparently, you simply asked. Helen smiled and nodded, as they hung up their clothes.

The low beds were simply platforms with padding. There were thin blankets that were surprisingly warm, and body heat made up for the rest.

"What's your name?" Helen asked softly.

"Lucy," said the girl.

Helen felt as if she was a different person among these people, with Lucy. It was as if she could settle down with these people, maybe even have a husband. Couples spent a minimum of time together; the children were looked after communally, the men hung out together, and the women hung out together. That was not to say that there was no mixing between the sexes at all. In the pursuit of various interests, you connected up with anyone. The camp made some of the best baskets anywhere on the ship. Since there was no currency, they simply _gave_ the baskets away, or traded them for hard-to-find things. The Dropouts favored hand-made things, as did the Hippies, and there were some ties between the two groups.

But the Hippies were pro-ship, and anti-technology, while the Dropouts were simply anti-ship. They liked handmade things because it didn't remind them of the ship. But there were computers in the camp, though not linked to the ship's network.

As the week drew on, Helen made more friends among the teenagers. Somehow she had managed to make the teenagers think of her as one of them, and the women think of her as older. There were a couple of restless souls among the teenagers whom she especially liked, good-natured kids, who would eventually make trouble if they didn't get excitement somehow. Unfortunately, most of the excitement was out in the main areas of the ship.

"Are you allowed to go out into the ship areas?" Helen asked one evening, after she had finished singing for them, and had headed outside, where the teenagers sat and talked until they were ready to sleep. It promised to be frosty that night.

"Allowed? Hah!" They made it clear that they went where they liked, when they liked. Helen had already learned that none of them had been involved in any of the violence, and they were furious that they were being blamed for it. So they had the opportunity to do that kind of thing, and the freedom, but it was clear that they really did not have the motive. Avoidance was their goal: to avoid the functioning of the ship as much as possible, not to sabotage it.

Prompted by Helen's questioning, two boys approached her, as the others were headed inside to bed.

"Pete and me, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us, exploring!"

Helen was amazed. Exploring? "Exploring? Where?"

"See, we haven't been outside the segment, and we thought it might be fun to go over to Ocean! They say Ocie girls like Tempie boys!" The grass on the other side was always greener.

Lucy came out, wrapped in the blanket. "Come to bed," she asked, tugging at Helen's hand.

"Lucy, you wanna come with us? We're going on a trip!" The boys seemed not particularly thrilled at having to take Lucy, but since she had come out . . .

"Where?"

"Ocean!

Lucy frowned. She really was quite cute, Helen thought. "Why do you need to go out there after those girls? _We're_ here! There's that Barb been making eyes at you, Pete, and you hardly talk to her! And there's Mary . . ."

"Oh come on, Lucy! It's just for fun!"

Lucy gave up. She held Helen's arm and said, "Be careful! I don't know anything about Ocean!"

"I will," Helen said, touched. Lucy squeezed her arm one last time, and hurried back inside. It was getting quite cold.

"You wanna go put pants on? We have to go through the hub, and there's no gravity there!"

"I don't care," said Helen. The boys looked at her with amusement.

She was learning an enormous amount. It was an hour's hike to town, the edge of their part of the woods. Then they walked out along the streets to the other side of town, and the long street that took them to the Wall, the edge of the sector. (They refused to take the elevator.) Long before they got to it, it was visible, an enormous wall that stretched up to the sky. From a distance it was barely visible, because the trees obscured it, and then it was so featureless that it hardly seemed solid; more like a white haze.

Now, for the first time, Helen felt the knowledge that she was on an immense space vessel pressing down on her mind. She looked at her companions, and knew something of their feelings as they stared at it. The Ship.

To their dismay, there was a checkpoint there, where people were being asked where they were going. Helen persuaded them that it made sense for them to reveal that information. "We're going for entertainment, right?"

"Yeah, right," agreed Pete and Allen, looking determined. Helen had heard the group in front of them give The Purple Pumpkin as their destination. Fortunately, Pete's announcement that they were just going for entertainment seemed to be acceptable.

Glancing around, Helen saw the unobtrusive camera that was aimed at their faces. If she had been asked on Earth, she would have declared that she felt very angry at being subject to surveillance. But on the ship, it seemed reasonable. They were past the barrier.

"Which way now?"

"See, it gets rough. My friend told me, you go this way . . ." The road became less attractive and well-kept, and became something like concrete; Helen guessed it was some kind of plastic or perhaps aluminum. It led to stairs that led off upwards.

"These should go up all the way to the hub," Pete said.

They set out to climb the stairs. Helen felt dizzy after about a hundred feet, from the unaccustomed exertion. The stairway was fully protected, but at intervals they could look out over the tops of the woods, presently about fifty feet below them except for a few giants, who rose higher. Above them there was nothing but near darkness, with the hub a thin line of dim nighttime illumination, far, far above them. They were at the very northern extreme of the cylinder which formed the segment. The glowing tube that mimicked moonlight did not reach all the way to the end of the cylinder, but stopped a hundred feet short of it, well away from the wall.

On and on they climbed, and Helen found that her breathlessness was getting a lot better. She felt lighter, and she could feel her skirts rising higher up her legs as she climbed. Her companions climbed steadily, a little more fatigued than she was. They were in good health, and of course, much younger than she, though they thought she might be about eighteen. She felt touched at their trust in her. It was the music, she decided. Nobody expected a musician to have any vicious tendencies.

"Need help?" Pete asked her, kindly.

"I'm fine," Helen told him. She wondered whether there would be any awkwardness with the boys; but no, Pete was not making a pass at her; he was just being a gentleman—though both of them seemed to have no compunctions about looking at her legs.

Every once in a while they rested, to look out through the balconies at the woods and the Segment floor spread out before them. The trees were just a dark carpet, now; above them the hub came closer, and the soft moonlight it radiated was revealed to be tube lamps, set to the pale blue-green color of the moon. And then, they saw, _beyond_ the hub, faint glimmers of light! At first, Helen wondered whether it was space, the myriad stars surrounding them. But soon it occurred to her that it was simply the other side of the cylinder that was the Segment, homes and towns and streetlamps. Usually, these things were hidden by the glare of the artificial 'sun.' But now, halfway to the hub, she could see them, but was too out of breath to point it out to her companions.

After a while, it became possible to pull themselves along the bannister rails much faster than climbing the steps. Helen pulled herself along, to the great admiration of the boys. They thought it was a clever move, all the cleverer since they could look at her.

It was like flying, an incredible, exhilarating experience. The stairwell was a cage, though, because if it had been open and they flew out of it, they would fall, slowly, but fast enough at impact to make them mere scars on the ground.

Even though it was not much work anymore to resist the artificial gravity, Helen still felt incredibly tired. The climbing seemed to go on forever. But the hub came ever closer, and eventually, they arrived at a landing. The stairs had been well-lit, but this landing was even better lit. It was a landing in name only; their weight had long since disappeared, and they kept in place by holding onto the railings. Helen felt vaguely embarrassed that she had on such pretty panties. She knew the effect she had on men, and these two were torn between the effect of weightlessness and their lustful thoughts of her. "Where to, now?" she urged, too sympathetic to be harsh on them. Her teen years had been an agony of need, and she could never find the heart to be stern with teenagers on account of lust. At least they kept their hands off her.

"Through there," Pete said, breathless. All the doors were air- and fire- proof. He opened it, and they followed. It was a brightly-lit stretch of tube with handholds along two sides, with arrows showing the direction of traffic. Once they were through the door into the tube they looked at each other, plainly hoping Helen would take the lead. Somehow she had become their leader.

"Oh no," she said. "You go, Peter. You next," she told Allen.

They headed off. They almost flew. In this kind of weightlessness, it was like swimming, only there was no water to keep your body in line. However, Helen found that, even with a mighty haul, sooner or later she slowed to a stop. There _was_ a slight tug towards the rear. They could feel the acceleration of the mighty ship, but so lightly, it was almost imperceptible. It was exhilarating, and they laughed and joked among themselves, until they came to the end of the long passage. Then they opened it up and saw, far away, the other group that had been just ahead of them at the barrier. They were almost through the long corridor.

"How did they get there so fast?" asked Allen, indignant.

The material of the walls hushed their voices so that it didn't reach the other group. Helen and company could see that the other group was having a rowdy old time, but only a slight echo of it reached them.

Helen paused to think. Her skirt would be impossible up here, in weightlessness. She made a quick decision, and took off her skirt.

She folded it, and tucked it into her shirt. The boys watched, startled. "I'll come at the back; they'll never know I'm like this. They're a hundred yards away, at least."

" _Yards?_ _"_ Allen laughed. "Sometimes you talk so funny! Like my grandmother would say _yards,_ like that!"

"What _is_ yards?" Peter wanted to know.

"Another word for meters," Allen said, trying to make sure he wasn't kicking Helen.

Suddenly the other group spotted them, and began to wave.

"They look friendly," Peter said. "But don't take chances. Let's keep back." But they waited for Peter and company, and Helen refused to put her skirt on. The other group was all boys, and they were clearly unpleasantly surprised when they saw that Helen's group was all Dropouts.

"Do you go everywhere like that?" one of them asked, grinning at Helen.

"Nah," she said, before Peter could say something that would cause a fight. "Only some nights!" They all laughed, and Helen moved to take her place between them and Peter and Allen, knowing that would make them feel more secure. She was breathing hard, and was flushed with exertion, and knew she must be quite a temptation for all of them. But she'd handled a gang of lusty boys before, and in any case, she was willing to rumble. It was only if she was unwilling that things would get _really_ tense.

"How did you get up here so fast?" "Did you come up the stairs?" "Well, yeah! How else?" "Come on, we'll show you!" The secret was simply the equivalent of a ski-lift that ran inside a tube. You sat on a kind of bench, and slid down the tube. Helen talked them into letting her go first, and they headed down into Ocean Segment, getting friendlier by the minute.

## Sissy Blows Her Mind

Cindy remembered the very moment she knew that Sissy lost her heart. She remembered the second the big blonde had strode in.

She had a little denim skirt on, a black pullover, and a long braid piled on top of her head like a crown. She had a round face and green eyes, and looked real innocent.

Cindy had asked whether they wanted a quiet room in the back, and the boys had looked at the blonde. But she had eyes only for Sissy gyrating on her little stage. Cindy had turned to look, and at that very moment Sissy had come out of her trance, and saw the blonde.

They were both lost for a long minute, as Sissy whirled and danced like a maniac, always keeping the big blonde in view. Even after one of her pirouettes, her head would snap back to look at the blonde.

At first it was only intense curiosity. Then Cindy saw Jake and Brad taking notice. The girls didn't like it, either. It was like they owned Sissy, and they resented it every second of attention she gave anyone else.

"Would you like a table near the stage?" Cindy had asked again, and the boys had said yes, the blonde had only nodded. She wasn't that tall and wasn't that big, but she looked dangerous, her body like a cat, the kind who would go for a girl. Cindy could almost _smell_ the sex beginning to ooze out of her. Cindy had been straight all her life, but this one was making even _her_ hot.

The boys ordered beer, and Cindy suppressed a smile. Everyone's got to start somewhere, she figured. The blonde ordered a screwdriver. She had got herself together now. It had just been a shock to see Sissy as they came in the room.

Once Sissy got herself together, the wild dancing disappeared. For the first time, there was seduction in Sissy's moves. It was still her unique, old-time style of dance, a sort of stage-dancing, but its message was clear: I want you to see nothing but me. Even the druggies were taking notice. Word had spread, and kids were coming in off the beach to watch.

"She wants you bad, Helen," Allen said, looking excited and jealous at the same time. "Give her a sign!" Peter glared at him.

They hadn't come here to make a pass at Helen, but she had become the focus of the sexual excitement of the place, and they were beginning to feel possessive of her, as boys through the ages had felt about their female companions.

A group of Ocies came in, and seeing the other group, went over to talk to them. Suddenly, the music stopped, and the dancer disappeared with a flourish. Different music started up, and people started moving to the dance floor. Helen and her friends began to watch with interest. The Ocies were incredible dancers; they danced bonelessly, as if they were completely possessed by the beat. Helen was interested. At least _dance_ was an important part of the culture. These people had rhythm, and the dancing was sophisticated. Dancing couples did complex moves, not just the mindless shaking she had seen with teenagers on dance floors in Philadelphia and London, the two towns in which she spent the most time. But her eyes searched the room for the girl who had danced on stage. It was incredible that a talent like that danced in a teen bar! Helen felt something going on nearby, and when she looked round, she saw Allen going off with a local girl. Peter was left, and she felt sorry for him.

"I'd like to dance," she said, not really wanting to. She felt nothing for the boy except pity, and a kind of sisterly affection. She hardly knew him, except that he loved her to sing, and was one of her greatest fans in the Dropout camp.

"Come on, then!" he said, and she led him onto the floor, and they began to dance. She began to dance a complicated Latin salsa dance, and he was full of admiration. "Teach me that!" he said.

He was a quick learner, and he picked it up in no time. She taught him other steps, and soon they had a circle of admirers.

But the Ocies were quick learners, too. A really beautiful boy cut in, and began to dance with her, and a pretty Ocie girl danced with Peter. They were half naked, and Peter found it hard to resist them. After all, this was what he had come for. Helen danced with an entire sequence of guys, lost in the dance. They had a lot of Latin rhythm, and once the DJ saw that the Latin groove was really kicking, he or she kept up the stream of music in that vein.

Helen paused to go to the restroom with one of the Ocie girls.

"You dance really well," she said. "Where did you learn?" "I had lessons," Helen said.

"You talk very different," the girl said, from inside the stall.

"Where are you from?" "From the Temperate Segment," Helen said.

"Are you from one of the closes?" Helen puzzled over that. In the end she said she wasn't. But by then the Ocie girl had heard something she wanted to dance to, and dragged her back. Helen slipped away, and repossessed her screwdriver, which had been topped up. She thanked the waitress with her eyes. The girl seemed extremely attentive to their table, and Helen rewarded her with a smile. What else could she do? How did you tip in a moneyless society? The girl blushed and turned away. Helen drank her vodka steadily, and the girl came with a replacement as soon as she was finished.

Helen sipped at her drink. He felt herself getting mellow. She was at the point where she might not be any good in a fight, but she told herself there wasn't going to be any fighting.

Everyone was headed outside, and Helen saw through the window, couples having sex on the beach. Some were having sex in the warm water. She picked up her drink and walked out on the back porch of the bar. It was dark; unlike the other segment, there were hardly any trees here, only the occasional palm. The 'moonlight' seemed dimmer, and of course, it was much warmer, around 70°.

Helen had been thoroughly aroused when she stepped in the door of the bar. Seeing the girl dancing had driven her almost mad with lust, but the alcohol had deadened it. Still, the memory of the girl was an itch that would not go away. A boy had asked her to dance again, but she had politely declined. She took one last look around and saw Allen covered with his girl, like a blanket. She watched as they made love, and smiled. Allen was a sweet boy, and the girl was gently teasing him, playing the games girls usually played with their lovers.

Helen went back inside and sat at her table.

Cindy was waiting. It was like a play in which Cindy had her role.

The tall blonde had taken in what was going on outside, and had come back to her seat, to stare at the stage. Cindy went up to her and asked softly, "Can I get you anything?"

"Just some ice," she said, "I'm too hot." Cindy knew Sissy would come out again. It was not a guess; she _knew_ she would come out. She got the ice by feel, without turning her back on the big blonde and the stage. "Thanks," said the blonde, taking a cube of ice out and running it over her face.

"Don't stare at me like that," she told Allen, back in the woods near the camp, as they approached the hall in which they slept.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Did you have a good time?" She nodded. Peter was half asleep, and was no use in their conversation. They helped him off with his clothes, which still smelled of Ocie girl, and put him to bed.

"I need to shower," Helen said with a sigh.

"Come on, I'll show you," Allen said. "It's going to be cold," he warned her. She could have bathed out in Ocean, he thought.

God, he'd love to see her in the water. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "I'm sorry things didn't work out for you," he said softly, as he waited outside the shower booth.

_I know where she is,_ Helen thought to herself.

No one had seen her dance with the girl, only the staff. Helen had never danced like that before; lifts and holds that came naturally, as if she was being taught by a brilliant teacher, straight into her brain. Helen had learned ballet, but not _pas de deux_ with a partner.

She had been far too tall by the time her classmates had graduated to such things.

"What's your name," Helen had asked when they stopped dancing.

"Cecilia," she had whispered, and slipped from Helen's arms and disappeared again. There had been a hint of something in her eyes this time. She hadn't run _awa_ y, she had only run off. It was a courtship, and this was all for their first night.

Helen said good night to Allen, and thanked him with a kiss on his cheek. She felt strange; he still thought her his own age. He headed off to bed, and Helen slipped in next to Lucy. She was warm, almost hot.

"You smell nice," Lucy whispered, snuggling into Helen's arms.

Helen could hardly bear Daisy's attentions when Helen visited them the following day. Daisy had had an argument with Alison and Lizzie, and though she didn't talk about it with Helen, it seemed clear she felt that Helen was the only one on her side.

"Lena always talks about you," she said, smiling at Helen from across the table.

"What does she say?" Helen asked, pleasantly.

"Oh . . . this and that," she said evasively. What could Lena possibly say that wouldn't bear repeating?

## Helen Finds Some Clues

As the days went on, Helen began to believe that the Dropouts were definitely _not_ the culprits. Talk of vandalism and such anti-social activity was _never_ heard in camp. But when Helen came out to the supply store for some new clothes, she found a large group of kids talking about a fire.

"It's _got_ to be the Dropouts," one said. "I _hate_ the little—s! They really get me angry, the way the Chief talks to them so nicely, and they never do a stroke of work!" "Next time," said one of the others, "let's lie in wait, and _see_ them!" All the others glared at him.

It didn't make much sense at first, but when Helen reflected on it, it began to make more and more sense. _Next time?_ How were they going to be in place to see who starts the next fire? If her hunch was correct, she had to make sure there was enough ill feeling against the Dropouts. She had to be sure that the kind of kids she had heard that afternoon resented the Dropouts so much that they would consider framing them for a crime such as arson.

The problem was that Helen dressed too clean. She had to dress _Dropout._ She took the next day off, and asked her Dropout friends to dress her in their style. The odd clothing worn by Dropout women in the winter consisted of full skirts, with a heavy, long-sleeved jacket that stopped abruptly at the waist. Among Dropout women, it was rare for them to put on what they considered their formal clothing, but they humored Helen. The dress she wore was lent to her by Serge Fortin, one of the oldest of the Dropout community, whose wife had been the recently deceased cook, who had ruled over the kitchen like a dragon for most of her seventy-some years. She had been a tall woman, and none of the women in the camp could wear her clothes. The dress was perfectly clean, and was a handsome garment. It looked scruffy simply because the green material was alternated with purple to create a heather effect that was lost at any distance into a muddy grey. When Helen emerged from the changing-room she was greeted with awed sounds of appreciation. With her gold braid falling down over one shoulder, she looked to them like a young bride. All the men studied her with new interest. Many of the women knew what she was up to, but the men were largely ignorant. They were told that it was a little experiment, which left them puzzled. One of the leaders, a grave-faced man, took Helen aside and told her that she was to do nothing to shame the community. We like you, and you seem a nice girl, but if you go out in that thing, he said, whatever you do will be attributed to us. Helen nodded and assured him that she was very aware of that. It's not what I do, but what might be done to me, she told him. Let me send a couple of men with you, he asked. She shook her head. That might be a hindrance to the plan.

She left her friends at the edge of the woods that marked the boundary of the area they considered their territory. With an empty shopping bag, she trudged along the paths of the wood until she got to the road, and on until she came to the shopping area. She had put her hair up in a simple bun, and covered that with scarf.

Having decided that the clothing store was the most likely place to find the young folks of the area, Helen headed towards it.

All the glances she attracted were not hostile. In the bright lights of the store, Helen was an arresting sight in the complex garment.

No stranger to heavy gowns, Helen wore it well. As she inspected the clothing for young women, she was eventually watched by a large group of girls, more curious than anything else.

"Is that outfit nice and warm?" asked one with a smile.

"Yes, indeed!" Helen said with a pleasant smile, caught by surprise.

Two more young people approached her and began to talk. Did she wear regular clothes, too? Had she made the dress herself? Did she come out to the town often? To these questions and more, Helen made up what she considered plausible answers, and things were going quite pleasantly, when a slightly older group arrived and broke up the love-fest. It was soon clear that Helen was not welcome there. She got an earful of bile from them, and some rather specific threats. The store manager intervened to defend Helen's right to shop there, which resulted in a look of such white-hot fury on the faces of Helen's tormentors that she began to believe that her suspicions were true. She straightened up, gave the now-silent group a piercing look, and quietly asked the store-owner whether she could be escorted to the edge of town.

Very reluctantly, the store owner agreed to call security. Helen waited for five minutes until the guards came, and was then marched out to the road, and along it for a little distance.

"I don't think there'll be any trouble from here," Helen told her protectors.

"I think it was a mistake to wear your traditional clothes here, miss. Why call attention to yourself?"

"I wanted to find out whether there was any hostility towards us, that's all."

"How can you doubt it, after everything your people have done? The fires, the murders?" He was so furious that he made Helen flinch as he accused her. He stepped back, realizing that he had been out of line, but pursed his lips, unwilling to apologize.

"None of it has been proved, sir," Helen said gravely. "We believe we have been set up."

"Set up?" He laughed. "Come on," he told his companion, and turning on their heels, they left her on her own. So she had proof of a kind, but nothing conclusive. It had been interesting but ultimately resulted in no new information. If she hadn't asked for an escort, she may have had to fight in the awkward skirts, and incurred even greater anger on the community of Dropouts, damaged the clothes, hurt some kids, and fed the fears that Dropouts were dangerous.

Back at the camp, Helen explained to the gathering that night what she suspected. "All we can do is keep watch," she said. "At least we can protect the forest. But we must not fight back. Fighting will only lead to more fighting. We must take responsibility to keep the forest safe, but not to punish the arsonists." Opinions were divided among the group, but the majority supported Helen. They were by no means a combative people. They wanted nothing to do with the outside world, but need and ordinary curiosity drove them to it, especially the young. It would be a pity if things got so bad that all contact between the Dropouts and the ship community were to cease.

Helen headed back to teach the next day. She was now teaching at three places three days a week. Her ordinary classes were held at the middle school, after which she headed to Woolley's school to teach part-songs, and then, three times a week, out to the hippie commune to teach them whatever they happened to want each day. Helen had made several ukuleles successfully for them, and they were beginning to make their own. She showed them recorders, and they were pleased with those, too. They had the kind of equipment on which recorders could be turned out without trouble, and the ear to make good ones. These days when Helen went to the hippie commune, the children were always singing her songs. It made Helen warm with pleasure. Even back in town, Lena was always singing, joined by Summer whenever that young lady was around, which was most of the time.

Helen, though very tired at the end of the day, asked Alison to join her in a visit to Cass Hutchinson. It was difficult to get away to talk to Alison because things had deteriorated in the house, and Daisy was not on speaking terms with her in-laws.

"What's been going on?" Alison asked, determined to be pleasant, and keep the conversation away from her problem with Daisy. They were in the woods now, headed towards Cass's home.

"I've been living with the Dropouts," Helen said.

Alison's manner changed to one of shock. "Goodness! Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Helen was amused. The myth of Dropout viciousness was well-established. "They're the sweetest people. Allie, I think they're being set up." Once with Cass and Art, Helen explained everything. Fortunately they were willing to believe Helen, or at least to listen to her. She described how she had put the Dropout kids on alert, to make sure that fires in that part of the woods did not get out of hand.

A thoughtful look came over Alison's face. "Bobby was working on an arson problem," she said thoughtfully. It was clear that it would be a long time before she would be over his death. She still stumbled over his name. "It was the last word he wrote in his log. For October 14th, there was a long description of something, I didn't pay attention to it, and at the end, 'arson?' "

"So, possible arson."

"Yes, you're right: possible arson."

"He may have seen someone buying something arson-related at the store?" Helen asked, not quite convinced herself.

"Or recognized somebody, perhaps? And followed them out and challenged them?"

"Or caught them in the act?"

"Was there any sign of arson at the scene?" Alison asked, wincing at the memory.

"You know, I don't believe anyone thought to look." Helen suddenly gasped. The other two looked at her in surprise.

"I have an idea!" she said, and began to talk fast.

# Year 72: A Concert is Planned

It was becoming impossible to put off Helen's shipboard grand debut concert any longer. Word was spreading among the children she was teaching in the schools, and it was clear that the simple solution for her performance problem was to accompany herself with a guitar and a synthesizer. It was a lot less dignified that she preferred, but the fact was that she could give a good and varied performance with those simple resources. Now Helen had to break the news to her Dropout friends that she was Sleeper No 1, and face their anger. If she could manage to obtain their forgiveness she could return to them, and to Lucy, who was becoming an important part of Helen's life. They were not in love; it was only an arrangement of convenience. Lucy had her eyes on one of the young men of the camp, but he wasn't ready to marry yet. Lucy and he sneaked off together every evening and returned flushed and happy, and Helen smiled to herself.

That night Helen sang to them, and when she had finished, she stood up and motioned to indicate that she had a few words to say.

"So far," she said, "I have not told you who I am, or what I am." All talking stopped, and they watched her intently. It was impossible to avoid speculating that she was a spy from the ship's administration. But they liked her and had trusted her so far.

"Please believe me when I say that, in the past several weeks—it feels like a long, long time, because I have made many friends, and cooked for you, and lived with you—I have found a home with you, and I love you all, and this place.

"I . . . am from another time, and another place. My name is Helen Nordstrom, and I was the first one to be frozen. I am Sleeper Number One." They were shocked. Those who knew of such things were shocked, while those who had never heard of sleepers, and who had hated anything to do with the history of the project, looked at her in disbelieving disgust. Helen's heart dropped. This had been a silly idea. All she had to do was to tell them she was a well-known musician, and allowed the other facts to emerge gradually. She bit her tongue in anger at her own arrogance.

"In a few days, a concert has been planned over in the town. So far I have sung only to you, and to children in the schools. But the . . . well, everybody wants me to give a recital, a kind of concert, and I _want_ to do that. I like to sing, and, in my heart, I suppose I hope that singing, and music, will heal some of the deep wounds that I find—here."

The audience was stony-faced, for the most part, but there were a few smiles of support. Lucy, especially, smiled at her from a few feet away, where she always sat during her little after-supper concerts at the camp. "I just wanted to—tell you everything, and to ask your forgiveness for the deception. It wasn't a deception of lies, just one of not telling all."

"Why did you come here?" asked one of the older men quietly.

Helen took a deep breath.

"For several reasons. The first was that—I wanted to see what you were like, to see with my own eyes whether you were the dangerous people that you were accused of being." There was an angry murmur at that, especially among Helen's friends, the younger folk.

"The second was more complex. I had a belief that of all people on the ship, you were the most artistic, the most creative. And I felt that my music would be welcomed here more than anywhere else. And it's true; the young children, especially, are learning to sing." She did not say that the hippie children were a lot further along, but then, they had had more time. She was well aware of the interests of the original project planners to ensure that the colonists on the ship were genetically superior. She wondered whether it had been a good idea; it seemed as though it had only resulted in a rather neurotic population. She wished Lena and Summer could play with these children. They would have been so perfect with each other. Then her mind snapped back to the crisis at hand.

"You are a spy." The words were said quietly, but Helen was cut. Someone gasped at the words. "Deny it, if you can."

"I deny it. I did not reveal your secrets to anyone! I wanted to know only for myself!"

"But when you visit your friends—what do you tell them?"

"Everything." There was an angry murmur. "Believe me, you have nothing to hide, except where you live. You are content, you are healthy, your children are happy and intelligent. You are a loving, generous people. You lead a good life here, using far less in terms of the ship's resources than the general population. You treated me well. I was proud to be accepted by you, and I told them that. Was that wrong of me?"

"You should have known we wanted nothing to do with the ship and its affairs!" This was one of Helen's friends among the women. "All we want is to be left alone. But you have shown no regard to our wants. You came here to spy, and you have told everyone about how we live here. With the good, you have most certainly told the bad. Deny that you told them you were cooking for us! Deny it if you can! We took you in, thinking you had no home, but you stabbed us in the back! How can you stand there and say you want to be forgiven?" The woman said the bitter words, her face mottled with bitterness and embarrassment, and sat down, seemingly on the brink of tears. She had been one of Helen's staunchest allies, and must feel personally betrayed, Helen thought.

"Helga, you have to believe me. I did not tell anyone I was cooking for you."

"We thought you were going back to teach at a school!"

"I was! I teach at two schools, and at the hippie commune!"

"You spy on them, too!"

Serge stood up. The room went quiet. He had a lot of clout in the camp, and Helen wondered what he would say. He was past eighty, but still sharp and charismatic.

"What is all this about _spying?_ What does it mean? Do we have secrets? Do not use the word 'spy' if you don't know what it means! Many of you go into town wearing city clothes, when you want to get something. Many of you kids go out at night to have fun, disguised as ordinary people. Are you spying?" There was silence. "We want to ignore the ship, not to have a war with it!" he thundered. "This woman comes among us, and has done nothing but kindness. She is from Earth! She was born there, not on the ship. She has grown up there, a woman of importance, a musician, a singer. Not a scientist, not a ship's crew. Perhaps she was sent to us to give us what we have never had, the memories of Earth, the knowledge of what it means to be human, to do human things, not ship things! We should welcome her, not attack her!" He beamed at her fondly, and Helen felt great gratitude to the sweet old man.

"When I saw her in my beloved Tanya's clothes, I knew she was special. She could have kept silent about who she was; we would have never known. But she was honest. I think it takes courage to be honest as she has. I accept her. She is not a spy. She is one of us. And things will be better for all of us because of her. I am glad she is here. I have been happier since she came here than I have been for years. If you have the courage, join me in welcoming her!" And one by one, all Helen's former friends rose, beginning with Lucy and Helga. And Helen began blubbering with relief and happiness, tears making a complete mess of her face.

"I have to practice for the concert," she told the women the following afternoon. She had come home early after work, without going home with Lena. "Let's cook quickly, and I will go back to the city to practice."

"Can't you practice here? There's plenty of room, your guitar is here; what more do you need?"

"There's a large synthesizer," Helen said, "that's what I'm planning to use."

"Why don't we bring it here?"

"It's very large; there's my concert guitar, and my violin . . ."

"We'll send someone. Lucy will come. She babysits a little girl all day; she will not mind going into the city for a change." Helen sighed. The mind-set of the camp was such that they imagined that Helen hated to go to the city as much as they did.

Furthermore, they didn't like Helen being away from camp. Ever since she had revealed that she was a sleeper, they had been overly protective of her. And they probably wanted to watch her rehearsing. Helen was secretly pleased; if they could be persuaded to come to the concert, it would be one step towards building bridges between the ship and the Dropouts.

Lucy was called, and after a little persuasion, agreed. She hurried out to find some 'city clothing,' so that she could disguise herself as a city girl. Helen was amused. Lucy was as sharp as a tack, and Helen was sure it wouldn't take much encouragement to get Lucy to spend a lot of time in the city.

They began to cook furiously. Helen had begun cooking large batches of food, to last several days. She needed to have sugar-free meals, and as a result a large batch of sugar-free spaghetti-sauce was made, providing both herself and several camp members who did not need the extra calories with good food for days. Today they were making lasagna, something they had been asking her to make for a long time. Even Lucy came to help, something unusual, since that young lady spent most of her day running about the woods with the boys, though she was supposed to be looking after two little children.

The lasagna was done and put in the oven, with careful instructions about what to do. It was a large, reliable oven, and the women knew the issues now. There had been no burnt food since Helen took charge.

Then Lucy asked Helen to check if she was wearing the clothes right. It was a pair of jeans that fit her well, though a little snug around the buttocks, which Helen assured her was considered fashionable. There were no traditional sneakers in the camp, and so Lucy wore the leather sandals that she wore all the time. But tan socks lessened the Dropout-ish appearance somewhat. She had found a T-shirt-like knitted top, an expensive-looking one that must have come from Earth, and a warm jacket and a knitted cap completed the outfit. Helen wore her usual skirt and ankle-boots and denim top, and they headed out with a hand cart.

Lucy chattered cheerfully all the way into town. Once they got there, she became a lot quieter, her quick eyes taking in every detail. She made one or two disparaging remarks, inaudible to all but Helen, but clearly she did not find everything as distasteful as she made out.

Then on they went, through the woods on the other side, until they arrived at Helen's apartment. They were left alone most of the time, except for the odd remark from bands of young fellows who noticed Lucy, and gave her the usual compliments, which usually involved stepping into the woods with them. Lucy whispered to Helen that they seemed exactly like the camp boys.

Helen replied that boys were the same the world over, and then suddenly stopped. It was like being in a time warp; the phrase _the_ _world_ meant something so different, now.

"This is where you live? Goodness!"

"Why? I thought it was rather modest."

"Perhaps it is," she said, "but it is all for you! It is not shared, like us. It seems wasteful."

"It is meant for two people, but . . . only I use it at present." Helen led the way in, and began to deal with the mail—a nuisance on board ship as much as it had been for her on Earth—and the little notes that Mary-Beth had left her. Lucy demanded to know who left the notes, and Helen tried to explain.

"But that is like a servant," Lucy said, frowning. "Servants are not allowed in the camp. I am surprised at you, Helen; you did not seem to be one who would keep a servant!"

Helen sighed and sat down, and Lucy followed suit.

"I was a sleeper."

"I know that, yes?"

"When I was revived, I did not know how to do anything. Not even how to get food from the store. It is very different from how it was seventy years ago."

Lucy went white.

"Is it really true? You are an old woman?"

"I—I was frozen, Lucy; I did not age!" Lucy nodded slowly.

Since there were no really steep steps, but more a kind of ramp up into the house, the cart had been brought into the house. They began taking Helen's musical instruments out to the cart. Each of them had its own case, and together they filled the cart completely.

While they were arranging the items in the cart, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Someone's coming!" Lucy said, her eyes wide. "I'll hide!"

"Nonsense! Stay right here."

But Lucy disappeared, and Helen headed for the door with a sigh.

"Oh, Hello!" It was Daisy, and she stood uncertainly at the door.

Her quick eyes took in the cart, and must have wondered what it meant. But, polite as always, she didn't broach the subject.

"I was worried when you didn't come home with Lena," she said, still standing at the door. She managed a smile. "I should have called!"

"That's all right," Helen said, and brought her in and got her seated. "Some tea?"

"Coffee, please, if you have any."

Helen put some coffee on, and settled down to chat. Daisy, she knew, had no one to talk to, and the kids were too young. It couldn't be too long today, since Lucy was with her. But even a short chat would cheer Daisy up. "How are things going at the house? Patched it up with Lizzie and Alison?"

"Yes, thank goodness," she said. She had dressed beautifully, in a smart green dress that brought out the color of her eyes, somehow. "Alison is a fine woman, and Lizzie, too. But we have such different opinions on everything, and I'm so—tense these days . . ." She shook her head. "I'm not fit to associate with anymore," she wound up, and sniffed loudly. It was a rare instance of self-pity. Daisy was not a whiner. But her face was so incredibly expressive, it took her a great effort to keep her emotions out of it.

"Cass says you will be giving a concert!" she said, her face lighting up. The sudden change of mood surprised Helen. "I am so looking forward to that!"

"Me, too!" Helen confessed. "I'm working on it," she said, indicating the instruments. "I'm going out into the woods to practice!"

Daisy laughed. "Why not! It seems a perfect place to do it!" Her eyes softened. "The birds will be so lucky!"

Helen smiled. "You haven't heard me yet, Daisy; let's wait for compliments until you have!"

Daisy shook her head. "Lena has told me all about how you sing. If she says you sing beautifully, that's good enough for me! I trust my daughter's judgment. She's smarter and wiser than many adults." She cleared her throat. "That's been part of the problem between Alison and me." She glanced sharply at Helen. "She might have told you."

Helen shook her head. "Alison told me nothing, and I didn't ask. But I'm not surprised. No one sees their own children quite the way others do."

"But you see Lena the way I do."

Helen smiled and left it at that.

There was a long, awkward silence. Daisy seemed on the brink of saying something, but after three attempts, she kept silent. Helen wondered what she could say. Could she bring out into the open their non-relationship? Was it better to do something now, or to wait until Daisy made her move? What would be the kindest thing to do? Helen wanted Daisy to be happy, so that Lena would be happy. Just then Daisy decided to speak.

"I come from a good family," she said quietly. "I don't make a fuss about it, but my parents were both scientists; my father was a bacteriologist, who supervised Alison's early training. My mother was a surgeon, and an anatomist. Their parents were both professors at Berkeley, an important university in America, on Earth." Helen nodded, wondering where this was leading. "I was a good student, and my teacher told me I was intelligent. I took up nursing because . . ." Her eyes filled with tears, and she made an eloquent gesture with her hands, "I have this . . . empathy," Helen nodded. "And I have been happy with my choice. It's hard work," she said, getting control of herself, "but . . . I need to feel that I am a helpful, good person. That people are happy because of me, you see?" Helen nodded vigorously. "To whom am I to tell all this?"

"I know," Helen said, "it is hard."

"Of course you would know," Daisy said gently, managing a smile. "You don't even have children, like I do, and family—of a sort, anyway."

"It helps to have someone—something—to love," Helen said, her throat feeling tight. Through the corner of her eye she saw a movement, and realized that Lucy was watching and listening.

Helen felt confused, but she could not stop. "We both have Lena," she said. "I'm very grateful for that little girl, and her big heart," she said, and stopped, not trusting herself to say more.

"Yes," said Daisy, looking at her hands lying in her lap, "we're both very lucky. And I'm thankful that you listen to me, Helen. I can't believe how God sent you to me, just at the moment I needed someone most." Her voice was calm and firm. She looked into Helen's eyes. "You're the sister I have always wanted, and never had. I have my patients, and my children, and I have you. This is all I need. I have been given exactly what I need to survive." She smiled, like the sun emerging from a cloud. "The better I get at expressing my feelings, the harder it gets for you!" she laughed. "You're doing very well," she added.

Helen had to laugh. Daisy's sense of humor had not been very evident, and Helen was relieved that she had one. It was only the murder that made her like this, she told herself. She might have been a cheerful person before.

"It's good to see you laugh," Helen said. "I'm glad you trust me, Daisy." Daisy nodded, smiling. It was as though she wanted to say something again, but decided not to. It was frustrating, but then, it was refreshing to find someone who was careful about what she said. "Have you been taking your medication?" Her smile took the edge off the question. Helen assured her that she was.

Daisy stood and held out her hand to Helen. Helen drew her into an embrace, holding her tight. Over Daisy's shoulder she looked at Lucy, who watched them thoughtfully. Helen walked with Daisy out to the door, and waved goodbye.

"Who is that?"

"She's the wife of the man who had his throat cut recently—remember?"

"Oh. They blamed us, didn't they?" Lucy's expression was thoughtful.

Helen nodded. "Now I'm certain it wasn't a Dropout."

"Was that why you came to us?"

Helen nodded.

There was a long silence. Lucy looked away, thinking hard. "You didn't have to tell me."

"Yes, I did."

Lucy gave her a little smile. "As long as we're cleared, anyhow," she said. Helen smiled, relieved.

They finished putting what they wanted to take in the cart, including Helen's little computer. Then they sat down for a little rest before they headed out.

Helen studied the young woman with affection. She looked thoughtful, her dark eyes unfocused. The two of them rarely talked as much as they had that morning.

"She wants you bad, that one," said Lucy, interrupting Helen's thoughts.

"I don't know—" said Helen, "—she's very lonely, and that's—not good."

"You're lonely too," Lucy pointed out gently.

"I know that," said Helen, "that's why I don't want to rush into anything."

"Who's Lena?"

"Her little girl."

"How little?" Lucy's suspicion did not annoy Helen. She was honest and forthright. She wanted to know for Helen's sake.

"Ten, almost eleven," Helen said.

"You love her as a child."

"Of _course,_ Lucy." Her hand played softly with Helen's. She treasured these tender moments. She was getting greedy for more of them.

"Kids are such a nuisance," Lucy said, more to herself. "Helen, you are much older than me." Helen laughed. "No, not because you were frozen, but really—if you had been born here, you would have grown-up children. Am I right?"

"No. I'm only thirty. Younger than Helga."

"You feel like . . . twenty."

"And you feel like . . . seventeen."

"I _am_ seventeen!" They tickled each other until Lucy laughed hysterically.

"She's very pretty," Lucy said at last, in a soft, dreamy voice.

"Who, Daisy?"

"Is that her name? It is a simple, pleasant one. She might have been a Dropout."

"She is a nurse. She works in a hospital."

"What does that mean? Some ship thing?" Lucy asked, suspiciously.

"A place where sick people go to recover."

"Oh. The Medical Center," Lucy nodded knowingly. "Wanda is like that. She knows to use medicines."

Later, as they got ready to leave, Lucy said, "Soon I will decide to have children, then Joshua and I will marry, and I can't sleep with you!" Helen laughed a little uncertainly.

They set out, talking softly. It had not occurred to Helen that talking about sex could be so wonderful. She had been more of an actor than a talker. They hardly noticed the time passing; soon they were close to where they would leave the road and head for the camp.

## Excitement

Suddenly, they were surrounded by a group of masked men. There were five of them.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't think it's any of your business, sir."

"Let's see what you've got there!" He pulled out the guitar, snagging one of the strings on the clasp, causing a painful twang.

"Careful!" called one of the men, anxiously. The fellow who had the guitar glared at him.

"Is this yours? Can you play this?" the man who had taken out the guitar demanded. Helen decided that he was their spokesman, but perhaps not their leader.

Helen nodded. He handed it to her, clearly indicating that she should play, and she played a few bars of Bach, and then stopped.

The man raised his eyebrow, impressed in spite of himself.

He took the guitar back. "Don't think we don't know who you are," he said, a threatening note in his voice. "You can change your clothes, but you can't change your face, can you? Do you think you can come around spying on people any time you want?" The last few words were said in a savage tone. The man threw the guitar on the road and advanced towards Helen, his face red with fury. Helen noticed that he had a big knife. Suddenly she felt afraid.

The man turned back to the cart, and picked up the violin in its case. Helen closed her eyes and breathed up a prayer. It was a humble violin, one she had made herself; but it had turned out so perfectly, she had never been able to equal it. It happened sometimes; the piece of wood and the glue—it all comes together to make a perfect instrument. A Stradivarius could do it time after time, but for Helen Nordstrom, every success was a miracle.

"What is this?" he asked contemptuously.

"It's a violin," she said, seething.

He picked it up and looked at her. She knew he would destroy it.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to allow it to happen. _It's only a violin_ , she told herself. _It's not a human being_. How could he be filled with so much hate? She took a sad glance at Lucy. If they would let Lucy go, she herself could endure any kind of torture.

The man followed her eyes, and put the violin away, and advanced on Lucy with a cruel smile.

Something snapped inside Helen, and she virtually flew across the space between them, planting a kick right on his forehead. He fell over backward, a surprised look on his face. Helen whirled, feet flying, and in less than three seconds, three of the men were on the ground unconscious, possibly dead. One of the other men reached for Lucy, but the other held him back.

"All right! All right, you can go! You can go!" The adrenalin was still pumping. Helen looked at him with icy disdain. She was relaxed now, the calmness of a tiger that knows it can run down its prey.

"Put your knives down," she said. The men threw down their knives. One of the men on the ground began to stir, and Helen carefully banged his head on the ground to knock him out again.

She carefully inspected all five of them. Then she examined the guitar, lying on the road with its belly cracked open, and its neck loose. She had no way to repair it. The concert was finished.

Calm as ice, she put the guitar in its case, and moved the cart with its instruments off the little road.

"Go," she said. "And don't come back."

"But, the bodies!"

"They're not dead, fool; they'll walk back later!"

"But the Dropouts!" The man was hysterical. "They'll be dead before they wake!"

Suddenly Lucy found her voice. "We do not kill, man. The evil you accuse us of, it is in your own heart! Go now, before we call our people!"

They left, walking slowly, with many nervous glances back. Helen knew they wanted to rescue their friends, but she thought she could see in their expression the recognition that it had been a poorly-thought-out plan to begin with, to ambush two women less than a half-mile from the town.

When they had disappeared round the bend, Helen went through the pockets of the men on the ground, and found all their ID cards. Then she opened her purse, and called Cass. She told her of everything that had happened.

In minutes Cass herself, her brother Ted and a group of friends arrived, and examined the scene of the fight.

"How did you knock them out?" Ted demanded.

"She kicked his head!" Lucy said, eyes wide, and they looked at her in surprise. "And this one, she kicked his stomach, and this one, she hit his neck, like this!" Ted nodded, somewhat bemused.

"They're missing their IDs," one of the others said. Helen handed them over.

Suddenly she felt weak. She sat down by the side of the road and put her head in her hands. Cass came over, and knelt by her.

"The guitar is ruined," Helen said, trying not to cry. What good was it that she could fight, if she left it too late to prevent the guitar being hurt? Lucy and Cass examined the guitar, murmuring to each other what a tragedy it was. "She has her small guitar in the camp," Lucy was saying, "but it is not as beautiful as this one!" She looked at Cass, and saw how angry the woman was. As yet she had no idea that this was, indeed, the Chief.

As Cass and Ted considered the situation, wondering how to get the three unconscious men back to town where they could be questioned by officials who could be trusted—Helen and Cass were uncertain whether there were elements among the security forces who were sympathetic to these terrorists—Lucy decided to slip away, and returned after a while with a crew of Dropouts.

The two groups looked each other up and down, and cautiously approached each other.

"These are friends of Helen's," Lucy told her companions.

Turning to Cass, she said that these were her people. Lucy explained to the men she had brought, that the three specimens on the ground had attacked her and Helen—or at least, threatened to attack them, and Helen had fought back. Once again she recounted what was to her the extraordinary feat that Helen had pulled off. They asked Helen whether it was true, not quite believing Lucy. But Helen ignored them, lost in her misery.

The situation was now complicated. Obviously the Dropouts had an interest in seeing the culprits prosecuted and punished. Cass had to patiently explain that it appeared that there was a conspiracy among certain elements of the ship-folk to discredit the Dropouts.

She checked the unconscious men, and Helen repeated her trick of knocking out the ones who were returning to consciousness again.

Cass, though aghast at her violence, chose not to remark on it.

"It has come to the point where I don't trust the security forces completely," Cass confessed. "That's why I brought my brother and these gentlemen, all friends of ours."

"And who might you be, madam?" asked the leader of the group Lucy had brought. "My name is Harry Stine, and this is Fred Unterkoffler, Scott Bierly, Mort Kimball, Jeff Brody, and George Walker."

Cass offered her hand, introducing herself. "Cass Hutchinson. Pleased to meet you."

"You are Chief Hutchinson?"

"Yes, Mr. Stine. I'm very grateful for your help."

Somehow, over the phone, Cass rounded up a nucleus of security officers she could trust, and presently a group of them came, with a cart to transport the offenders off to the Medical Center. Ted could supervise them there, and it was clear that he would keep a very careful eye on them.

Once they were gone, Cass and Helen and Lucy sat with Harry Stine on the roadway, and Helen explained what they were planning to do. Harry listened closely, and finally allowed himself to smile. "It may work," he said. "Maybe you'll catch these same fellows again," he said. "Maybe it's just five idiots, causing all the trouble." Cass clasped her hands in prayer. "That would be wonderful," she said. "It would be the best news of all. The last thing I want is to learn that hundreds of people are involved!"

Harry nodded. "It's good to know that some people think us innocent," he said.

"Then you must cooperate," said Cass seriously. "If the culprits are your own people, then they must be caught, just as they will be if they are _not_ your people."

Harry drew himself up to his full height.

"Let the real murderers be found," he said quietly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. I will trust you to keep silent, just as you must trust me to be silent." Harry nodded, and the groups separated.

Helen's cartful of instruments was brought into the great hall, and the instruments were laid out on the long table with great care by Lucy herself. She glared daggers at Helga, whose idea it had been to have them brought. Helga quailed under Lucy's gaze. In the world of the camp, Lucy had a certain right to speak on Helen's behalf. "We could have let her go and practice in the city," she said, and they saw her eyes bright with tears, and they kept silent.

There was a disturbance, and a man of middle years was ushered in. Nearly bald, he was not much older than Helen, perhaps thirty-five. He was tall and had large hands, and as soon as he saw the table, he headed towards it. "That's Emil," Lucy told Helen in a low voice. The hubbub died down, and everyone made way for Emil.

He came up to the table containing the broken instrument and sat down slowly.

"This is one like you play in the evenings!" he said quietly, looking up at Helen, a slight smile on his face.

"Yes," said Helen, trying to clamp down on the unreasoning hope that sprang up in her breast. She didn't even know who Emil was, but the scars on his hands told her: he was a craftsman. It was no use, she thought, unless he had the glues she needed. She had some, in her apartment. But it took time to get a batch ready, and . . . she just didn't have the energy to begin. The anger that pulsed through her was making her weak. All she could do was lash out, and having done that, she was done, spent. Everything had fled her mind except for thoughts of her beloved guitar and her beloved violin. She opened the violin case and checked the instrument carefully. Thank god, it was fine. It hadn't been strung yet; she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

"Let me see that," Emil said, even softer this time. Curbing her impatience, Helen handed the violin over. Of course, he would be more impressed with the violin—but no, he shook his head and handed it back. He smiled up at her. "Where's the small one you play in the evenings?"

One of the kids ran off, Julian. He had appointed himself the guitar-keeper, the one who took care of it, put it away when Helen was talking, brought it out when she looked for it, and so forth. In no time he had it held lovingly over the table. "Careful," he said softly to Emil, who took it, already absorbed in the instrument.

Before Helen could nerve herself up to ask, he declared, "I can fix this. It will not be hard." Helen drew a deep breath.

"I really doubt you have the kind of glue needed, Emil," she said, trying not to sound patronizing.

She saw a glint of annoyance flicker through his eyes, but he spoke politely enough.

"Of course. But I think we have the glues. Glues, not glue. We need two kinds," he said. "I know you can play them, but do you know about repairing them?"

"I made it," Helen said proudly. "I made them both."

He was impressed. "It is not usually the kind of thing women do," he said, amused. Helen shrugged. "Let me try it," he said simply. "Or if you prefer, I'll try to copy it."

Helen's eyes snapped wide. That would be really something, to use an instrument made on the ship by a Dropout! "Really? How soon can you copy it?"

"Oh . . . two weeks, maybe three."

The air went out of Helen so dramatically that Emil's smile vanished. He frowned. "What's the hurry?"

"The concert, Emil! She has a concert on Saturday!"

"A concert? _What_ is a concert?"

"Where she plays in a large hall," Lucy explained impatiently.

Emil looked at Helen. This was all rather insulting for a craftsman like him. "Can you manage with the small one? Perhaps we can clean it up, take out some of the scratches?"

Helen nodded in defeat, and Lucy shook her head in firm disagreement. Emil stared from one to the other. What was the matter with women? It was always _do it now._ Keep calm, he told himself.

"I have to do it all by myself," he explained. "And I'm repairing a part of the roof; it's leaking right over the kitchen. I can't stop everything and work on this gadget!"

"I will help you!" Helen said quickly. She had worked in construction; surely she could help fix a leaky roof. And she had made the damn guitar; suddenly she felt her energy return. She smiled at Emil. "If I help, can you fix it sooner?"

"Of course!"

The next day Helen was up early, and went to look for Emil. She found him getting materials ready for patching the kitchen roof.

She wandered around to the storage shed, and found the ladders.

She hauled them out to the corner of the building occupied by the kitchens, and carefully examined the entire section of roof, lifting up the superficial layers and looking underneath. When Emil came round looking for the ladders, he found her already on the roof.

"You should have told me you were taking the ladders!"

"I'm sorry; I didn't want to disturb you. There's another minor trouble-spot, right over the wall."

"Let me see!"

He climbed up, and nodded. It was a bad spot; moisture wouldn't make its presence felt, but would soak into the wall, rotting it from inside.

"Shall I get another piece ready?"

"You know how?" he asked. Helen nodded, smiling. "Okay," said Emil, grinning at her. It was a lot more fun with a helper.

Lucy saw Helen working a new piece of wood, and came to watch with the little boy she was looking after that morning.

"Careful, don't let him get any wood slivers in his eyes," Helen warned.

For several long seconds she smiled at Helen, and then went away with the baby.

That afternoon, Helen sent her regards to Daisy through the girls, as well as to Cass and Alison, and hurried to the campsite. To her surprise, not only had Emil begun the work of taking the guitar apart, he had begun making a copy out of the best wood for the job, a light, fine-grained spruce. A block of hardwood lay ready to carve the neck out of.

Leaving Emil to work on the copy, Helen took up the problem of cleaning off the surfaces of the old guitar. Emil returned from whatever errand he had been on, and wordlessly smiling, sat down to work beside Helen. "Once I finish this, I will show you the glues I have," he said.

In very little time, he had carved most of the neck, and began to shave the wooden plate that would become the new fretboard.

When Lucy saw that Helen had returned, she came and sat close by, the little boy on her shoulder, sleeping peacefully. Helen's heart leaped up in such a way that she couldn't bear to interrupt the closeness she felt.

After half an hour of that, Helen took her leave from Emil, picked up the case of her synthesizer, and headed out into the woods, followed by Lucy. She sat down on a tree-stump, set up the keyboard, and began to sing scales. Lucy came round to face her, the little boy on her hip. After she had finished warming up, Helen began to sing, accompanying herself. She looked light-headed, and Lucy couldn't help smiling as Helen sang, smiling back at her, a kind of mad delight in her eye.

"Why don't you practice seriously?" Lucy asked.

Helen slowed down her singing, and asked Lucy softly whether she could please bring her a cup of tea. Lucy ran off to do so, calling for the little scamp of a girl whom she was supposed to be also looking after. Little Sal was almost impossible to control, though Simon, the baby boy, was a mellow child, who was content to sleep in Lucy's arms, or watch what went on around him from Lucy's hip, and punctually call for his mother, to be fed. Now, on the dot, he called. "Mumm," he said softly, patting Lucy's breast.

"Okay," she said softly. "Let's find Sal, and go get your Mom, okay?"

When she came back with the tea, Helen was engaged in strange contortions on the grassy floor of the clearing. Lucy watched fascinated, as Helen folded herself slowly in half, laying her palms flat on the floor. She slowly rolled upright and stretched to the sky, her face smiling softly.

Helen took the tea, and asked whether Lucy would like to play the keyboard.

Lucy looked at Helen, eyes wide. Helen nodded. Smiling, she turned a knob, and said, "There, I turned it down so it isn't quite so loud. Go on, try it!"

## Alison

After the loss of her son, her only child, Alison found herself becoming more concerned about her grandchildren, to the point of obsession. It wasn't in her nature to be totally obsessed with them, or with anything. She was too rational. But those first few days had left her faculties so weak, she had not realized what she was doing or feeling, and what the consequences were. She had needlessly hurt Daisy, to whose mind, understandably, the children seemed to be all there was to live for.

When she called Cass one afternoon, with her characteristic sensitivity, Cass asked her to come right over. It was a long way to her office near the communications center towards the north end of the ship, but she hurried home in time to greet Alison at the door.

For a while they caught up. Over the years they had learned to re-connect quickly, but it had been many months since they had had a minute to themselves. Alison allowed herself to be comforted by Cass; just to have her close, listening to her news, it was almost magical how Alison could regain her perspective. It was as though Cass was two entirely different people; the tough-minded Chief, and the caring, sensitive girl Alison had known all her life.

"Let's talk about Daisy. How is it going?"

"It isn't. We hardly talk. I'm torn apart, Mom's torn apart. I think she's had a little stroke; it's no use checking. At her age, putting her on drugs is not kind."

"What are the signs?"

"Oh . . . fatigue, slurred speech, little things."

Allie sat back and cushioned her head on her forearms. Her breasts were still firm and beautiful, and Cass felt desire rising in her once more. Allie was lost in her own thoughts, and Cass watched her face, stilling the turmoil inside herself. Allie asked so little of her, that it was a pleasure to respond when she did. "If Daisy didn't monopolize her so much, Helen could spend some time with mom," she said, sounding resentful.

"Does she really monopolize Helen's time?"

"Yes, Cass, all the time that she spends in the house."

"If that doesn't send a message to Helen, what will?"

"I think she's gotten a love interest somewhere else, too."

"Where? Oh . . . wait, there was a girl. Allie, there's a Dropout girl who's sweet on her. I bet that's who!"

Allie looked at Cass thoughtfully. "A Dropout girl, of all things!" Alison smiled fondly, thinking of Helen. "She's so strange!"

"They're people too, Allie."

"I _know_ they are!"

"It wasn't them," Cass said, a hard glint in her eye. They still hadn't lost the habit of speaking to each other with such economy that it seemed like code. Now she meant that Bob's murderer was not a Dropout.

"I heard you had some prisoners," Alison said, her eyebrow raised.

Cass nodded, her mouth twisted in a wry grin. "She kicked them! Did you know that?" Alison shook her head, puzzled. "She kicked one man on the forehead. I can hardly believe that! It's a special style of fighting, apparently. You kick people all over the place, on the head, on the chest, everywhere."

"Yes, I've seen it on videos. You remember those Dragon movies your dad hated so."

"Yes, I'm guessing it's the same kind of thing. I thought it was restricted to Oriental people."

"She fought to defend her lady Dropout friend."

"What did you do with the prisoners?"

"They were questioned, and sent home."

Alison let her breath out slowly, her teeth clenched. "Who were they?"

"Ordinary segment types; students, storekeepers, cleaning detail, maintenance."

"Not Dropouts, not Hippies?"

Cass shook her head. "The ones who attacked Helen were neither Dropouts nor Hippies. I'm sure of that. I talked to the Dropouts, Allie, and they're mostly harmless. They're innocent. Listen to the news at noon." Alison nodded.

## The Murderer Is Caught

The whole segment hummed with the news that the scene of the arson fires had fragments of fabric that was identifiable, and it was possible that other crimes were traceable to the same miscreants.

Within half an hour of the broadcast, special agents watching the crime scene saw a young boy looking highly nervous cross the security ribbon around the crime scene, in which the news reports had implied there were remnants of fabric, supposedly pointing the finger at the culprits. The kid hunted around for many long minutes, getting increasingly desperate, and finally gave up and went away, followed by agents. Once the residence was noted, a search warrant was issued, and the murder weapon was recovered, still incompletely cleaned. "It would have never worked on Earth," Helen said scornfully.

It belonged to one of the men who had accosted Helen and Lucy on the road. What was to be done? The punishment for murder was execution, but this was the very first murder on board. It was an explosive situation. In a small community such as the ship was, with feelings so high all round, an execution would only escalate the violence. There was only a minimal security force on the ship, and no provision for clamping down a full-scale riot. What could they do? It was agreed that the principal culprit and one other should be put in the brig, pending further proceedings.

As the days went by, Helen rehearsed her concert in the woods near the camp, gaining a following of Dropouts who came to watch and listen every day. Helen thought they would tire of listening to her endless practicing of the same things, over and over—but they didn't. She had to work most on the accompaniment; she was not a professional pianist, though she had been indeed one of the better pianists among her peers. It was unheard of to have to accompany herself in the repertoire she wanted to sing, but there was no choice. She had to memorize her music, because there was no turning of pages, nothing could be allowed to distract her from singing and playing.

Lucy, and then a couple of the teenagers, got clever enough to be able to turn pages for her. Somehow, without her teaching them a note of music, they simply picked it up. One young fellow was fascinated with the controls of the keyboard, and she taught him to help her program it for the various tone-colors she wanted. He even devised a method for programming it remotely, so that it could be done from the wings, or the seats. Helen decided to actually use the page-turners in the few pieces which she chose to play from the printed music.

Every morning, Helen would spend an hour with Emil, doing maintenance on the camp buildings, in anticipation of the wetter weather. Here, in contrast to the towns, the irrigation of the woods—the artificial rain that was released over the trees—drenched the buildings, too. It was actually done by spray nozzles high in the trees; there was no actual condensation of water vapor, etc. The artificial gravity of the ship did not extend to the mechanism of precipitation.

Emil's approach to repairing the guitar worked beautifully. Helen and Emil, working together, were able to restore the beautiful guitar to its former tone, though a little volume was lost. As if to compensate for that, it gained in sustaining power. On a visit back to the Hippies, Helen was told that the instrument could be amplified easily with a microphone incredibly more sophisticated than Helen had seen on Earth. Some things on the ship were definitely superior.

It was a confusing morning. The guitar was glued, but the glue seemed to set too quickly. It was rock hard before the pieces could be adjusted. Helen looked everywhere, but it seemed that errors in positioning were minor, if any. Emil was working on something else. Helen was annoyed; this was a momentous operation; how could he be so casual about it? Resentfully she got everything together, so that once the guitar was ready, she could string it.

Normally she would wait until the glue was cured and set. But how long did it take for _this_ glue?

Two of the women were making a new dress for Helen. It was patterned on Ivana's dress, but in brighter colors, red and brown edged with black. When Helen went in for a fitting, the women who had undertaken to make it were delighted. They wanted to make the midriff a little wider than was traditional, while Lucy thought it was too indecent. In the end they compromised, and they decided to use a subtle sheer tube around the gap between the bodice and the skirt.

It was hard to believe that labor was free. Two young girls were helping the women, for love of Helen. It was all done by hand, and their tiny stitches were even and neat, and would have been the envy of any hippie.

She began practicing with the guitar. From the first notes, it was obvious that the instrument had been restored to full performing condition, though it was equally obvious that it was something less than it had been. But in the process of participating in repairing it, Helen had been able to emotionally adjust to it. It was no longer a once cherished possession that had been raped, but a beloved friend who had suffered a trauma, and whom Helen had helped to heal. It made her feelings for it quite different. That day, the rather pathetic concert took on a new feeling of splendor, equal in personal importance to the ones Helen had given in the years immediately preceding her freezing, broadcast worldwide, with major orchestras and supported by major soloists. She had been not only a performer, but a conductor who had been in great demand.

At first the whole camp came out to watch and listen. Helen begged them to leave her alone. To Helen's relief, they retreated to a respectful distance, and mostly out of Helen's sight. But there was no doubt that they loved to listen to Helen singing with the guitar.

Late that afternoon, Helen heard a commotion as she was working on a difficult passage. Her fingers had seemed too tender to press hard enough, and she was about to stop and take a break anyway.

Into the clearing walked Emil with a smile. In his hands was a new guitar. She had never seen it. Helen stood, eyes riveted on the instrument. It had no strings, and none of the fittings, though it had an ingenious fretboard apparently copied with great care from the instrument she still held in her hands, now forgotten. The specialized hardware was probably not available on the ship, easy though it probably was to turn out such things on the right machinery.

Helen sighed. It was beautiful. Instead of the blond woods she had used in her own guitar, this was made out of dark woods; a dark companion to the fair guitar.

"When— _where_ did you make it? _Why haven't I seen it_?" Helen demanded, bemused. Emil only laughed. He gently took the instrument in her hand, handing her the new one. Helen took it reverently, the affection she had found herself feeling in her heart for him attaching itself also to his creation. When he had begun the project he might have only had in mind the challenge of it. But she knew its completion was a tribute to the friendship that had sprung up between them. She had felt his warm feelings for her, completely untainted with desire, except for the pleasure he had in her company.

She examined the instrument closely. It was different from her own; it had his unique stamp on it, his personality in the details.

But like her, he was a perfectionist, and it had been put together perfectly. He had never made instruments before. She was certain he couldn't know how to adjust it to avoid hot frequencies, rattling . . . there were a thousand things he couldn't possibly know.

She looked at him, and her heart sank at the prospect of doing what he obviously wished. Here she was, on the eve of a concert, and she needed to keep her instrument perfect, and _he_ needed her to try out his instrument by unstringing her own, and transferring the hardware over to the new guitar.

He had waited for this moment a long time. He looked at her inquiringly. She nodded. With gentle fingers he began to loosen the strings of the older, repaired guitar. Impatiently she held out her hand for it, and he gave it back with a smile. She must have done this innumerable times, he thought to himself. They got seated, and Helen got to work. He couldn't help admiring the efficiency of her movements. Not for the first time he noticed the beauty of those hands, the grace of the head bent over the work, the strong legs braced against the floor, the well-muscled arms. She was as good as any man, he knew, and as willing to put herself to any man's work.

She held out her hand for the new instrument, her eyes intent on it. He felt a little shiver of excitement through him. He was acutely aware that he could only guess at the purpose of many of the structural details of her guitar. But he was confident he had guessed correctly. He watched with amazement once again as she strung his guitar. How neatly she did it! As if hearing his thoughts, she smiled at him, almost a grin. It pleased him so much, he glanced away, at the trees around them.

She was applying tension gradually to all the strings, so as not to twist the neck. He grinned. She was still unfamiliar with these new glues. He had used her glue for the acoustic parts of the guitar, taking no chances. But for the structural parts, he had superior glues that she was unfamiliar with. "Tune it all the way up," he said, emphasizing his confidence with a careless shake of his head. She shook her head in refusal, and began tuning it. He took her guitar and carefully rested it on the cloth pad she had made for it on the table.

Mellow sounds made him look round. She was playing it. He watched her expression, riveted. She was intent and anxious at first, not quite believing that it would sound good. Then, she was thoughtful, and then incredulous. She played and played, forgetting his presence. A slow smile spread over his face. She began to hum with her playing, and finally broke into song. She explained to him who had written it, and for what, but he paid no attention. His beauty, his guitar was alive, singing with her! He felt a confused ache within him, and he wondered. He decided it was the joy of creating an instrument.

## The Concert

The morning of the concert dawned, as predictably beautiful as every day on the ship. Helen had slept with Lucy as always, falling asleep quickly. Around them there were signs of awakening. The girls often slept late, except for the ones who had to look after little kids who woke early.

Lucy slowly swung her legs down and got out of bed, followed by Helen, and together they headed out to the bathroom, to wait in line.

Helen's hair hung down her back, loosely braided.

"Are you going to wash your hair?" Helen nodded. "I'll help," Lucy said. "We'll put some conditioner on it. You'll look fabulous!" Helen shrugged. She was feeling a great lethargy. She would gradually get keyed up for the performance, and then . . .

"Shall we go to your house, and wash your hair over there?"

"Yeah," Helen said presently.

Helen washed quickly, and went over to the kitchen to help with breakfast, which was getting to be a more popular meal since she arrived. Then she and Lucy went back to dress for the city.

They packed everything carefully in a cart, and set out. At the road, they met a pair of security men who had been set out to escort her into town. Lucy smirked to herself; Helen could probably take care of herself better than these two could. But it was as well to have them along; they could at least make sure the guitars were safe. (Helen had practiced with the new guitar, and had pronounced it perfect.) Half an hour later, Helen was back in her little apartment, thanking the armed escort.

By mid-morning, Helen's hair had been washed and conditioned, and was being let air-dry. Calls came in from Cass and the staff at the auditorium, asking for last-minute instructions. Helen felt more nervous than she had been all the year before the ship launched. It was as though she was a teenager again, waiting to perform at her very first recital.

The news about the concert spread by word of mouth. Since public performances of anything but drama were few, no one knew what to make of it. For days, the Department of Arts and Recreation—which mostly sponsored dances, theater in the park, and athletic activities—had been trying to explain what the concert was about. As people made up their minds to go, Helen's students had been telling their friends about Helen and her music. The wires were humming until the last minute, as reservation requests kept trickling in. Helen had only shrugged.

As the first members of the audience came in, they saw the familiar auditorium arranged in an unusual way. The center of the floor was set up with a low dais as for a reading, with gradually widening circles surrounding it. Monitor screens, hanging from the roof, showed the performing dais at the center, while unfamiliar music played through the small speakers present everywhere in the room.

By the time the last few arrivals were ushered to their seats, the lights had been lowered, except for the spotlight on the low performing dais at the focus of the circular auditorium, at its lowest point, a little off center. There was a sophisticated keyboard on a stand, and a small rack on which rested something that was clearly a musical instrument. The director of cultural events, a handsome young woman of about eighteen came on stage, and greeted the audience, to enthusiastic applause.

"Helen Nordstrom, our performer this evening is, as you know, Sleeper Number One," she said, speaking a lot more clearly than was usual on board the ship, where speech tended to be a bit slurred. "She had already achieved a great deal of fame on Earth, when she was put on board at the age of thirty. As some of you also know, the decision to allow her to join the _Galaxy_ was very unpopular at the time. Her admirers protested for months, we are told, many going on what was called _hunger strikes,_ an Earth custom where entire groups of people go for days without food to express their anger at something.

"Miss Nordstrom is a many-faceted musician. She is," the young lady consulted her notes with a pretty blush, "a singer, a player of numerous instruments including the violin and the _viola da gamba_ —an ancient style of stringed instrument—and other instruments such as the guitar, the piano, the recorder—a kind of flute—and the autoharp. She was also one of the most sought-after conductors of her times, and a composer of two major musical works. She is the author of two books, one of which is The Music of Johann Sebastian Bach.

"We are glad to present to you this evening, the first of many concerts featuring Helen Nordstrom. Fellow travelers, please welcome Helen Nordstrom!" The audience watched eagerly, as a regal young woman walked onto the dais from the shadows, and bowed a greeting to the girl who had just welcomed her, after which the latter withdrew. She was dressed in sensuous style made familiar by Dropout women—a full ankle-length tiered skirt, with a bare midriff—wider than was traditional, but muted by a sheer black sheath—and a bolero-style jacket cut just low enough to show the soft swell of her breasts.

Without a word, the woman took her seat on the stool, made herself comfortable with one foot on a low second stool, and picked up the beautiful instrument that had rested on the rack, and tuned it briefly. Then she looked up and around at the audience and smiled, like a queen to her courtiers. Her fingers plucked at the strings, and a cascade of soft notes poured out, making the audience gasp at its beauty. And then she began to sing.

She had a light, high voice, very true and clear. The song was clearly in English, and it was about the foolishness of youth, and its principal emotion was humor mixed with compassion. Her words were clear as crystal as she sang, her red lips enunciating the words beautifully in the speech of old Earth, in a way that was uncommon on the ship. Her green eyes scanned the audience, seeming to touch every face. It was as though she sang to each one on the side she was facing, and the others could see her clearly on the monitors, as she seemed to look right into their eyes.

There was great applause after the song, for which she waited patiently, smiling. Then she spoke to the audience, telling them a little about the song and its origins. Then she went on to a song from an opera of the seventeenth century, in Italian, a song full of grief. Before each song, she said a few words of introduction, and went on the next. Finally, after the fourth song, she laid down the guitar, and standing to take a bow, left the dais. The audience went mad with appreciation.

Two young people came out, and seated themselves just off the dais in low chairs, with some computer equipment near them, and then she came out again, accompanied by a young girl of about fourteen. She took her seat at the keyboard, and the girl took her place at her side.

The next few items were piano pieces. She explained, with a rueful smile, that in the absence of a piano—which was a non-electronic instrument—this was the best she could do.

What followed was a brilliant display of pianism. Young people who dabbled with the keyboards at home had rarely viewed live performances on the piano, though of course, such performances were available in the data banks. When she finished the piece, there was an explosion of appreciation, with the audience rising to its feet to applaud.

"I'm not really a pianist," she said, after acknowledging their applause. "Still, piano was part of every musician's early training. I taught singing, you see, and for that one learns piano, in order to accompany one's students. I shall next try to play and sing a song for you. This is by Schubert, recognized in my time as one of the greatest writers of songs, or _Lied_ , as they were called in German." Once again she sat at the piano, this time without music before her, and began to play an introduction, and then began to sing.

Because of the greater expressive power of the keyboard, and its wider range, she was able to express more dramatic emotion. It was clear to all that it required considerably more effort to both play and sing, and at the end she was perspiring profusely, but the applause was, if possible, even greater than before.

"As you saw," she said smiling, dabbing at her face and arms, "it's hard to play and sing. However, during the past several weeks, my friends at Camp Severin and I have put together a method by which I have been able to save the accompaniment on the synthesizer keyboard beforehand, to playback automatically while I concentrate on the singing. It will be performed by two friends, Daniel and Susannah Oldfield." There was polite scattered applause.

She nodded to the two young people seated offstage, and to everyone's amazement, a lush orchestral sound filled the room.

Then she began to sing. It was one of the most sensuous songs she had sung so far, filled with longing, with tone colors impossible to play on a single instrument. She sang as if she floated above the stage, with gestures that added infinitely to the meaning of the words. Now they knew, she was indeed a singer. Freed of the necessity of accompanying herself, she soared on the wings of song, unfettered, heartbreakingly beautiful. After she finished, the music wound down to a soft, slow close, fading to a whisper. There was a long silence, and the audience applauded quietly, as if uncertain of the appropriate response. But her smile told them clearly that she understood what was in their hearts.

"Daniel and Susannah Oldfield!" she cried to the audience, indicating the young brother and sister who had effectively been the conductors of the orchestra. They had mastered the complex cuing system, as well as learned the song so thoroughly that the performance was effortlessly synchronized.

"To close this part of the concert, I would like to play a piece on the violin, my preferred instrument," she announced. There was polite applause. She walked to the edge of the dais, and was handed a little instrument and a sort of bent wand. She returned to the center of the dais, and tuned the instrument carefully to the keyboard.

"This piece was written by Antonin Dvorak, one of the greatest composers of the former Czechoslovakia." The music began softly in strings and woodwinds, emulated beautifully, even if imperfectly, by the synthesizer, as she conducted the two young children with her wand. It was a melancholy melody, filled with loss and regret. Gone was the grief in some of the former songs she had sung, the anger and the passion.

The wistful emotion of this piece was so sorrowful in its very hopelessness, it seemed almost a gradual resignation. Its mild protests always backed away, accepting the inevitable.

Scattered around the room, in little groups, Helen's friends sat listening and watching. For more than a month they had been vaguely aware of her importance, as a recognized artist in her time.

There had been occasional signs that under her pleasant, polite, friendly demeanor there hid the powerful personality of a great performer. She had initiative; that they knew. She had held back from acting on her own in a number of things. But now her charisma was revealed, as well as the passion from which it arose. She was irresistible, far more than a mere entertainer. She was a force of nature, overwhelming all.

As Cass sat with her family, including Summer, it became clear that Daisy was as suitable as a companion to this woman as a dove to an eagle. What could they have been thinking? She stole a peek at Lena, sitting a little further away with her mother, riveted on Helen's face. She saw the amazement in the girl's eyes. She wondered whether that childlike affection for Helen could survive this concert. As Helen burned white-hot before their eyes, could the child continue to keep her image of Helen as a caring older sister, or a kind of affectionate aunt? Next to Lena, Daisy sat, her face an unreadable mask. Cass looked back down at the dais. Daisy was intelligent. She sighed. It was hopeless. Daisy would be crushed.

With the violin in her hands, Helen was like a devil, able to twist their emotions with her fingers. She played another piece, which she called a miniature, which, too, was accompanied on the souped-up keyboard, automatically, with help from the two young people. It seemed obvious that they were no more playing it than Cass herself was. It was playing itself. Cass knew something of these things, and she assumed that Helen had spent hours loading the music into the thing, in layers.

Finally, the first half was over, and Helen walked offstage after numerous bows and smiles, as the applause thundered on and on. There were only a few hundred seats in the auditorium, which was minute by Earth standards, but the applause still thundered.

Alison conducted her mother out into the hall outside during the break. Lizzie was crowing with pleasure. "What did I tell you!" she cackled. "Now _that's_ what a concert is, kids!" All five of them stood in a circle, trying to get their brains adjusted to what they had seen and heard.

"Whew," breathed Alison, as Cass walked up, her face a study in excitement. They all started talking at once, remarking about one piece or another. Helen had sung beautifully. She had spoken eloquently. She had played the keyboard in an inspired manner! The guitar had been beautiful; where had she got it? And so forth. Daisy and Lena could hardly stop talking, and Cass grinned, amused at the pair of them.

Little Ben had comments, too. "Did you see those kids there?" he asked. "Some kids are helping her with a computer!"

"They're controlling the keyboard, Ben," Summer said, patronizingly.

"I _know_ they are! That's what I said!"

"But why that keyboard thing? Why didn't she play the piano?"

"How? There isn't any piano on the ship!"

"Oh yes, there is! Cass, you should know!"

"Me??" Cass was confused. "How would I know about a piano?"

Lizzie and Cass stared at each other, neither understanding the other.

After considerable confusion, Lizzie explained that a piano had, indeed, been put on board at the last minute. Lizzie's long, complicated explanation was ignored; the main question was, where was the instrument? Apparently, it was with Captain Montgomery's discretionary allocation, now given to Cass as his sole inheritor.

"If you had told us earlier, Grandma Liz, what a difference it would have made!" Daisy said, frowning. Lizzie scowled right back at her, bristling. Daisy, realizing how accusatory her tone had been, backed down immediately, but the damage had been done.

"It was still a beautiful show, Mama," Lena said, to smooth things over.

Daisy shook her head, as if bewildered. They all looked at her with interest, knowing, more than Daisy did herself, how she felt about the amazing newcomer on board ship. Daisy, her thoughts far away, was unaware of all the attention she was attracting.

Shortly afterwards, they returned to their seats, and watched and listened to the second half of the recital, in which Helen presented the numerous folk songs she knew, accompanied only by her smaller guitar. She had entertained young people often with singing in her teenage days, in breaks between tennis drill, or ballet rehearsal, and it was a familiar routine. But this was an audience she was particularly anxious to persuade into the joys of singing, the fascination of folk music, and all that was good in Earth culture. And she succeeded.

Helen stood to receive their applause, bowing, nodding in acknowledgment of their pleasure and their gratitude. "Thank you," she called out, waving at them, at children on their parents' shoulders, older kids shouting from the balconies around the edges of the room. "There will be other times," she promised them, when they asked for more. Then she turned and left the dais, and walked out. For the first time, the population of the _Galaxy_ had participated in what had been described on old Earth as a media event. Those who had been unable to attend still saw it all on their home monitors, but they wished they had come out to see it for themselves.

When Helen got into the staging area, she looked for Lucy, who had been helping her all day. But she was immediately surrounded by old friends: Alison, Cass, Jeannie, Greg, Ted, the ones who had been around when she had just been revived.

"Oh, Helen! That was magnificent!"

"Yes, but where's . . ."

"How did you manage all the music, the big—the big—I don't know what you _call_ it, the . . ."

"Oh, it was the Oldfield kids . . . but where is . . ."

Try as she might, they did not listen to her. While half of them talked at her, the others were packing her things into some sort of contraption, a kind of trunk. Helen gave up, and with her greater height, looked around, and saw Lucy being spoken to earnestly by an older gentleman she did not recognize. Art was supervising something just out of sight. Cass was talking fast, all red in the face. Lizzie stood close by, looking dazed. Daisy looked rather unhappy, but Lena gazed at her with such adoration, Helen was distracted from her disorientation momentarily.

Helen beckoned to Lena, and when she came over Helen swung her off her feet and gave her a hug, as Lena squirmed. Helen looked so _cute_ in her little blue skirt!

"How did you like the concert?"

"Oh, it was _perfect!_ I didn't know you could do all that!" Her eyes were gleaming with pure admiration, though she seemed less relaxed and friendly than Helen knew her to be. "Oh, put me down, Helen!" she said shyly, and Helen complied. She remembered how it felt to be ten, going on eleven.

Quite apart from being asked to put her down, a barrier seemed to have come up between them. Though Helen felt some dismay at that, she did not allow it to show. She cared for no one more than she did for little Lena, and she wondered what it could be. Still, Lena was a truthful child, and she could be depended on to tell her what was going on, eventually.

"What are they planning here?" Helen asked Lena softly. The others seemed to be talking among themselves, largely ignoring her. When Helen took Lena aside, they politely gave her some room. Fame had its prerogatives.

"Planning?" Lena looked at her with a frown. "We're taking you home!"

"But, we had everything organized; we had a cart in which the equipment could be transported, and Lucy and the others were to help me!"

Lena looked about.

"I think, when the Chief came back here, Lucy's people were wanting to take you out to the Dropout camp. So she sent Mr. Campanella to talk to them."

Helen made a sound of annoyance. She craned her neck to look for the Dropout contingent, and saw none of them. She whirled around and faced the others.

"What's big idea? Why have you sent Lucy and her people away?"

Cass looked at her, taken aback.

"Helen, they seemed to want to conduct you back to their camp! I persuaded them to go home, and I told them they could visit you tomorrow. I don't think they minded at all."

Helen recalled the look on Lucy's face. She knew Lucy well, by now, and she knew Lucy had left very reluctantly indeed. She had _so_ wanted to thank all of them individually!

"What's the matter?" Alison asked, a frown of concern on her face.

"I had planned to spend the night with them, that's all!"

There was an awkward silence. Alison looked at Cass, and Helen could see the tiny hint of reproach in the glance that spoke volumes. Helen was seething, and she felt her face heat up. Suddenly she felt her knees give way, and she felt a chair quickly placed behind her.

Alison breathed deeply several times, and seemed to make a decision. She hurried away, and Daisy followed her, looking determined. Helen, still furious, felt her eyes following Daisy. She was lovely, dressed in an ankle-length gown, beautifully woven in a single piece with delicate vertical stripes that swirled as she walked.

Cass sighed. She looked resigned. "I should have asked you, I suppose. I assumed that it would be easier for me to persuade them to allow you to come home, than for you to say your farewells tonight, in particular," she said. It was obviously true. Cass was not a deceitful person, though she seemed to have indulged in wishful thinking tonight.

"I do wish you had asked me, Cass. You have to realize that I won their trust with great difficulty, and _you_ won their trust through me. You aren't going to make any friends this way, Cass."

"But . . . do you really want to go back there, and live . . . live _that way?_ " Lizzie asked.

"Live what way?" It was Ruth and Sam. They had been talking outside, and now came in with Summer, and another little girl Helen knew from the elementary school.

"Helen wants to go back and stay a while with the Dropouts," Lizzie explained.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Helen exclaimed. "They aren't savages, you know!" Helen felt herself melting down, and burying her head in her hands, she began to weep softly.

She had been going on adrenaline for days now, and if she said anything more, she _knew_ it would be twisted to mean that the Dropouts had neglected her, or made her live under conditions of deprivation, when exactly the opposite was true. She was so exhausted that she could not think of the appropriate or the politic thing to say. She was so angry that she wanted to lash out at the people surrounding her, so confident that they knew what was best for her.

Lena knelt by her, her eyes full of tears. Wordlessly, she comforted Helen, and Helen began to weep uncontrollably. She felt a slight pressure on her arm, and felt herself slip into blessed oblivion. She had been sedated.

## Invalid

Helen woke later that night to the soft murmur of voices some distance away. She looked about. She had been undressed, her braid undone and gently redone for sleep. She was in her own bed in her room, in her apartment. There was a low light on. Her instruments had been carefully placed on the table, in their cases, including the computer that the Oldfield kids had rigged up, and the new guitar, presumably, packed carefully in a bundle.

All the anger she had felt earlier returned to her in full force, together with a numb, helpless feeling. _Who_ was out there, in _her_ apartment, keeping her a prisoner here? Who was it? What time was it? She was hungry. But she wouldn't ask for food. She would rather starve to death. It was so _wrong_ to do this to her! After she had done such a great job at the concert, they should have given her anything she wanted!

She wasn't a power-hungry maniac. But at least on Earth she had had some degree of power, she was able to control her environment, her circumstances, where she went, what she did. But here . . .

"Hello? Who's out there?" Helen was alternately angry and afraid. It was a horrible feeling. She had rarely been afraid, like this. Being able to fight, and being wealthy meant freedom from fear. "Hello? Please come here!"

The voices stopped at once. Helen held her breath.

Who could it be? It had to be Daisy and Lena, who else? Helen prepared to be angry. They knew she loved Lena, and Lena was becoming the tool they used to have their way. Didn't they know that Helen wanted _only what was best for them?_ Would it destroy their precious plans if she had one more night with Lucy?

To her astonishment, it was Lucy and Helga who poked their heads in, and then, of all people to be seen with them, Daisy. Helen stared at them blankly.

"You're up already!" said Lucy, as she came into the room, looking beautiful but tired. Her skirt seemed to swirl about her knees, seductively. "God, you must be strong! They said you'd be out until morning!"

Helen narrowed her eyes. "Did they drug me?"

Lucy grinned. "Drugged! Yes, they gave you a sedative. You have such colorful language!"

"I thought they had sent you away," Helen said. "I'm confused."

"Daisy came and got us," Lucy and Helga said together. Lucy let Helga talk. "They can be quite pushy, can't they?" They made space for Daisy, who smiled nervously. "Anyway, here we are!"

Lucy's eyes had the same worshipful look in them that Helen had disliked so much in Lena's eyes.

"You were incredible!" she breathed. Helen rolled her eyes, a habit that amused the ship folk. "Emil was so proud, he's impossible now!"

"What time is it?"

"Just two in the morning!"

Daisy cleared her throat. Awkwardly, she began to speak.

"I said I'd take charge of you for tonight," she said, "but I think you should go back with the girls tonight, if you feel strong enough."

Helen woke late the next morning in the Camp. She found a number of young girls watching her in fascination. "Shh," one of them said to another under her breath, "she's waking up!"

"What's this?" Helen asked grumpily. They only giggled. Helen smiled at them. "What time is it?" she asked, feeling an odd roughness in her throat.

"It's eleven," they said. "No breakfast for you!" They giggled some more, and when Helen scowled at them, went into peals of laughter. "Hee hee!" they laughed, "Miss Grumpy-face!"

The girls stared at Helen in fascination while she washed and changed, and when she walked into the dining room, the men were all there, beaming.

Helen smiled.

"Did you watch it on TV?" she asked.

"Some of us were even there," they grinned, "right inside!"

"Really?"

"Emil wanted to hear everything!"

Emil's face turned just a shade pink. Helen pretended to scowl at the men for embarrassing him. Emil sat quietly, barely smiling.

Serge spoke, and the others fell silent. "We almost thought we would not see you again," he said, which Helen knew was all the reproach she would get. Behind her, she felt someone come and stand near. It was Lucy, she knew.

"I would have come back, sooner or later," she said. "If I didn't, you know it was for a reason!"

Serge nodded slowly.

## A Setback

The following day, Helen developed a severe cough and fever, and was moved out from Lucy's bed into a bed by herself, under the care of Wanda. That worthy filled Helen up with fluids, and administered various tonics that should have eased the cough, none of which worked.

"I hate antibiotics," Helen said between coughs. "I'll be fine," she insisted.

"What is Antibiotic?" Helga asked, suspiciously.

"Oh . . . germ-killers that you drink," Helen said vaguely.

"What a silly idea," scoffed Helga, though her face looked worried.

Instead of improving, Helen grew steadily worse. By the third morning, Helen's temperature was raging so high that she could hardly move, and claimed that her skin hurt when touched. She knew that Lucy watched over her much of the time. Staying awake was impossible, and waking and dreaming blended into one long nightmare of pain and coughing.

When Helen cracked opened her eyes after what seemed weeks, she saw a thin face with enormous, beautiful eyes leaning over her. The soft rosy lips were parted, and even with the dullness of her sick head, Helen marveled at the beauty of it.

"Hi," said Lena, "you're awake. I'll get Mom!" She looked concerned. God, thought Helen, she's the most beautiful child I have ever seen. Before Helen could reply, Lena hurried away. Moments later, Daisy came in sight. She paused in the doorway, smiling, and then came towards Helen. She was dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, as she often wore at home. "You're finally awake, good," she said, her voice soft and sweet, modulated to soothe her. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Helen wanted to say she was fine, but she could not even take a big enough breath of air for it. Her lungs ached, and she began to cough again, though more weakly. She had never in her life felt this sick, this weak. Her mind even ran around in circles, repeating the same thoughts.

"Don't try to talk," Daisy said, in almost a whisper. "How's your head—any pain?" Helen made an effort to identify the source of her pain. It was everywhere, and yes, in her head. She nodded almost imperceptibly, but Daisy saw, and echoed it with her own head. She sighed, her eyes full of concern. "You've got a terrible case of bronchitis, and a generalized infection, but you're doing well, Helen." Helen nodded, and Daisy smiled. There was some of Lena's smile there, too.

Helen felt her touch her hand, and then hold it. In the emotional state Helen was in, it was almost unbearable, but Helen was too exhausted to react on the outside.

"Might you be able to sip a little soup?" Helen nodded. Her mouth was open, but she could not close it. She felt acutely embarrassed, and felt tears prick at her eyes. She couldn't bear to be this sick. It was such an alien feeling! And there was no one she knew, not her father, not her step-mother, whom she loved dearly, not her sister . . . she was all alone here . . . all alone.

Daisy's face twisted in sympathy. She couldn't possibly guess what was bothering Helen, but she could tell Helen was deeply upset. She looked up and exchanged a look with Lena, and the kid came over, and murmured soft words of comfort. It only made things worse. Tears began to pour out of Helen. She didn't sob, only because she didn't have the energy.

Within seconds, Daisy was talking to someone on the phone, and then there was a sharp little sting, and Helen lost consciousness again.

The most amazing thing was that Helen felt that Cecilia had visited her. She imagined that on some nights, Cecilia and she danced for hours; other nights she imagined that they kissed, and made love. But she knew this was impossible. Cecilia did not know where she lived, and Daisy would never allow her into the house.

After many dreams, many days, Helen woke, this time to find Daisy seated by her. She wore the same blue skirt, and was reading. Moments after Helen woke, Daisy looked over at her.

"You're better now," Daisy said with a smile. Helen looked at her greedily. She willed the woman to place her hand on Helen's brow, and she did. Helen closed her eyes in bliss. "Your fever is down; we had to hook you up to an IV," she said. Helen knew what that was; tubes of liquid that pumped stuff right into your arm. "Your stomach must feel empty, doesn't it?" Helen tried to nod, and succeeded. "Think you can sip a little broth, if I helped you?"

"Yeah," Helen managed. She wanted to ask: where's Lena? But the one word had finished her energy.

Daisy went out and presently came back with a bowl of thin broth, and sitting close, she proceeded to feed Helen. Feeling embarrassed again, Helen could feel the tears prick her eyes, but managed to hold back. Softly murmuring encouragement, Daisy spooned the broth into Helen with great patience. Suddenly, Helen felt a wave of nausea wash over her, as if from her very feet. All the broth she had eaten came out, covering her bedclothes, making Helen groan with pain and disgust.

She began to sob, huge croaking sobs, but Daisy's gentle hands held her, and her soft voice murmured gentle words of encouragement. After the worst of it was over, Daisy cleaned Helen off.

Cass had decided to call Daisy. Every day, after her routine was done, in the late afternoon, it was time to think of initiatives that went beyond mere duties. To check opinions and attitudes, to make moves, the ounce of prevention that was supposedly worth the proverbial pound of cure. She was a wise, even a brilliant Chief. She knew this. She had managed situations that no Chief had ever dreamed of facing. She was a pioneer, the first mission specialist to have been born after the mission was underway.

But every time she sat down to think, these days, after her committees had all gone their different ways, it was always Helen she thought of. That woman had come in and turned their lives upside-down in less than a month. She had her finger in so many different pies—the schools, the Hippies, the Purple Pumpkin, and that strange child Cecilia had become attached to her, somehow, Cass thought with a frown. Karin's oldest child had left home early, dropped out of school, and decided to take up what she called dancing. Then she had disappeared into that shady club, to hang out with a bunch of drug-addicts. But Ben Warren had insisted, years before, when he was still a special consultant to the Security Committee, that clubs such as the Pumpkin shouldn't be harassed continually. "Kids need a place to blow off steam!" he used to say. "It's better to have them where you can keep an eye on them, than have them go hang out in the jungle, somewhere!"

Cass had been there when he said it, and now it was her turn to pass the wisdom on. But Cecilia . . . was there something going on between her and Helen? Cass's eyes darkened. Somehow, she could stand Cecilia being associated with almost anyone but Helen.

"Hello?"

"Daisy?"

"Chief Holt! Is something wrong?"

Cass rolled her eyes. It was something she had got from Summer. Daisy was such a provincial, sometimes. "How is your patient, Daisy?"

Cass heard a sigh. "Improving," said Daisy. "I keep monitoring the white cell count, and by all indications . . ."

"But what do _you_ think?"

"She really is getting better, Chief Holt."

"Does she talk to you? Has she been up at all?"

A short pause.

"No, Chief Holt, she's been under most of the time; she hasn't said anything."

"Under? You mean you've been drugging her?"

"No, nothing like that, Chief Holt! But with a cough like that, if you give a suppressant, it usually knocks the patient out!"

Cass took a deep breath. "Is she well enough to talk?"

"No, Chief Holt!" Cass listened hard for some indication that Daisy might be keeping Helen in bed for her own purposes. But that's crazy, Cass told herself; Daisy is a professional. "The last time she tried to talk," Daisy continued, "she went into a coughing fit that was long and painful! I think she's afraid of talking."

Cass had to be satisfied. Daisy's words seemed to have the ring of truth to them. She said a few more polite words, and hung up. For reasons she herself could not understand, she had wanted Helen to 'find' Daisy. That hungry look in Helen's eyes made Cass's skin crawl. If Helen was left to prowl around, finding other kids like Cecilia to adopt, who knew what would happen?

Daisy put the phone down thoughtfully. She was not the kind who could play mental chess-games. While she sometimes _knew_ what was ailing someone, mentally, physically, spiritually, often their convoluted thinking was a closed book to her. She was better at unraveling the unconscious of others than their conscious.

She looked in on Helen. The woman had been so sick, there had been times when she had little or no control over her body. Helen's body held no secrets for Daisy; anyone but a nurse would have been completely disillusioned. But no matter how gaunt she looked, her face was always a fascinating study while she slept. Sometimes it was full of anguish, sometimes full of anger. Yet other times, she seemed to be seeing something incredibly beautiful.

Every day Lena came home from school directly now to Helen's place, where mother and daughter shared a room. She'd prowl around for a little, eating her sandwich, then Summer would arrive, and they would head out somewhere. They were often in the library, using the public monitors, which were much better than the monitors the little girls had for personal use.

A cluster of cartons had been discovered, that Helen had been gradually opening up—lots and lots of real old-time books, which were very uncommon in these times of discs. They had ordered a bookshelf, the three of them, and then Lena had insisted on setting out the books in her own way. She was certain it was the way Miss Helen would like it.

Daisy heard a familiar sound from the patient's room. She sighed, feeling her face grow hot. It was incredible how lusty a woman her patient was. Daisy had learned to stay away at times like this. It was a nuisance keeping the kids away from Helen's room, and in the state she was in, Helen didn't always know where she was, or what she was doing.

There . . . the monitor showed her breathing back to normal.

Daisy poked her head in, and saw two enormous green eyes looking at the doorway. They fastened themselves on Daisy. She suppressed a sigh. There was such character in that face! She was almost ready to get out of bed, Daisy could tell. There was a new awareness in her gaze.

"You look a lot better," Daisy said quietly, with a little smile. Helen hated being treated like a patient, and Daisy never liked the traditional nurse's hearty cheeriness anyway.

"I want to get up," Helen said. Her voice was healed, Daisy realized with slight excitement. She had an amazing constitution. Normally the voice would have taken ages to come close to normalcy. It was still a little husky, but it was essentially healed.

"Very slowly," Daisy said.

"All right," said Helen.

"Wait, let me help you. Your blood pressure is a little low."

Helen sat up, and Daisy could see her fight dizziness. Then she slowly stood, and had to lean heavily on Daisy.

"I must smell very ripe," she said. She did.

"I don't care," Daisy said gently, "I'm a nurse, I'm used to it!"

Helen sat slowly back down, and put her head in her hands. "I need to bathe, I can't stay in bed!" she said softly.

"Come, sit on the chair, while I change the sheets," Daisy said, and helped Helen slowly move into a chair.

"Everything hurts like crazy," Helen complained. "Even my skin hurts!"

Daisy nodded sympathetically. Even to her dull ears, there seemed to be a note of weariness in Helen's voice. What was wrong with being sick? Especially when Helen had been so sick, but had bounced back so incredibly well? The woman had a constitution like a horse.

She had been easily ninety kilograms when she had first fallen sick, but felt half that now. She did stink. It had been impossible to change her when she was unconscious. But she was the soul of consideration. She put as little weight on Daisy as she could, and sank into the chair. Daisy made her comfortable with a drink and a shawl—temperatures were cold outside, and Helen couldn't stand too much heat. But now she was obviously cold. The segment was kept at as cold a temperature as was tolerable, to save energy.

Daisy had the sheets and blankets off in a trice, and clean sheets on. She turned to look at her patient, and found the green eyes fixed on her. There was a hungry look in them.

Helen shook her head. "I can't get in that bed. I must have a shower."

Daisy smiled. "You can't, not yet, Miss Helen. You'll get dizzy."

At least she didn't argue. She simply hung her head and moaned. "I'm filthy!" she said.

It was a difficult hour for Daisy. She had never had a patient who had hated a sponge-bath quite as much as Helen did. In spite of the fact that Daisy knew herself to be the best at giving a sponge-bath of all the people she knew, Helen squirmed with acute embarrassment. Halfway through she had made herself so tired by squirming that she lay there, eyes on the ceiling, as if waiting to be raped.

"Well?" Daisy asked with a triumphant smile. "How do you feel now?" God, how troubled those eyes were! Daisy had to look away; there was a hunted look in her patient's eyes that disturbed her. "I'm sure it must feel great to be clean and dry!"

"Oh . . . it feels wonderful," said she softly. "Thank you for looking after me!"

"You're very welcome," Daisy said. "It's the least I could do, after what you have done for me!"

"What did I do for you?"

It was Helen's turn to see Daisy blush. She had expected a straight answer, but Daisy hesitated. It was as though Daisy was surprised, herself, to be unable to say, _this_ is why I am so grateful to you! Helen wished she had not asked. They were treading on emotional ground that Daisy had not yet mapped out, and Helen wondered why she had forced Daisy to go there.

"Lena . . . you've meant a lot to Lena," Daisy said at last.

Helen murmured that Lena was a dear child, and left it at that.

It was over just like that; one day she was tossing and moaning in bed, the next she was sitting up, reading, eating, asking to see the kids. Of course, after school the two girls had to visit. They were bored with Helen while she was sick and sleeping most of the time, but now they were back to talk to her, ask the interminable questions to which only Helen's answers seemed any use to them. What good were quadratic equations? Did she know what cosines were for? Had she ever seen an _otter?_ A _penguin?_ A _dolphin?_

Cass came by the following day. She had plans that made even Helen blink. Classes, students, an academy of art, music and theater, with Helen at the center of it. A Tour of all segments; a complete study of the archives. They sat talking for a couple of hours.

Helen had been sick for nearly a month, now. At first, Lucy and Helga had visited every day, but gradually they came less frequently. The heating period of the segment was restricted to about three hours a day, and the folks who lived outside the main living quarters were particularly hard put to keep warm, and to move about. Ocean was kept warm all year round, but it was a smaller segment. The tropical segment, too, was kept warm and humid. But most of the energy-saving was done by keeping the large Temperate segment cold.

Daisy had left them alone.

"Did you know Sissy is my granddaughter?"

Helen's mind had been wandering, but suddenly everything fled from her awareness except for that question. _Sissy?_ Somehow, Helen realized, she knew. Perhaps it had been something in Sissy's bearing, a certainty, a confidence that she must have inherited from her grandmother. Helen cursed herself for being so conscious of such elitist ideas; _anyone_ could be confident. It all came from how you were brought up, whether you had the training to deal with all that life threw at you. Or, was it something she had heard while she was sick, those things that she picked up when she was supposed to be unconscious?

Helen cleared her throat. "Now that you mention it," she said slowly, "I can see . . ."

"She's the child of my oldest, Karin."

Helen looked at Cass and nodded. If she had not fallen sick, she would have met Cass's clan after the concert. Cass had been waiting for an opportunity even earlier, but they were so independent and busy that it hadn't worked out.

Originally, Helen had found herself interested in Cass's family, but that had waned when she had made friends outside the community of the _ruling clans_ , as she thought of them. Even Daisy and her children seemed a more fascinating study, and in Helen's mind they did not belong to that elite that governed the ship, Cass, Alison and Jeannie and Greg, and their immediate circle. There were no real lines drawn between the various sectors of ship society, but Helen thought she sensed that aligning herself with the upper-crust would isolate her from everyone else. Perhaps she was being too sensitive, she told herself. She wasn't aligning herself with anyone. She was a law unto herself, her own one-woman sector of society.

"She can dance beautifully," Helen said, talking about Cecilia. There were a few people devoted to art, a very few. There was Cecilia, and there was Emil. They were both artists, each in their own way. "Why didn't anybody tell me there was a dancer in your family?"

Cass made a sour face briefly and dropped her eyes. "We don't exactly approve of what she does," she said in a dry tone. "On this ship sex is considered a private thing, not something to be performed on stage!" Her color was a little high, and she had crossed her legs primly. Helen was amused. Cass looked rather attractive with the extra color.

Helen smiled reproachfully. "You probably don't approve of what I do, either," she said softly. "After all, a lot of music is about sex."

Cass stared at her, shocked.

"How could you _say_ that?"

Helen felt her chest tighten. She felt deeply about this subject, and was not sure she wanted to become embroiled in a philosophical discussion in which the terms were loaded with all sorts of emotional connotations that resisted careful definition. At any rate, Cass was only an amateur.

"Call it _desire,_ then," Helen said. "That's a safer word, and we don't associate the same things with it. Music is about desire, peace, agitation— _feelings._ And the greatest pieces are about our strongest desires. And dance is about desire, too. It's about communicating desire. And she had no place to do it, but this little bar in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh, Helen," Cass sighed, evidently keeping herself calm with an effort. "If you only understood the thin line that separates our lives from chaos!" She shook her head slowly, managing a smile. "It's only by keeping our desires under control that we can manage to live on this tiny ship! Can you imagine what would happen if Cecilia were to dance in the auditorium?"

"She could dance anywhere! She's that good, Cass! And it's all instinctive! She's learned it all by simply watching classical ballet on video! Can you _believe_ how incredibly powerful her instincts are?"

Cass was interested. "You know enough to say how good she is?"

"Of course! I studied ballet for twenty years. I studied under Andrew White, one of the greatest American choreographers who ever lived. I know when I see talent!" Helen wanted to say that she could teach Sissy more of that art, that there were things Sissy could learn that she had never imagined. But she bit her tongue. Already it was hard for Cass's generation to believe that she knew so much.

But Cass was intent on something different.

"You need to go out, meet more people—people more like you, in education and upbringing," she said, stumbling a little. That was Cass all over; she couldn't prevaricate smoothly. "There are so many who want to meet you!" She was very evidently distressed. "There are so many men your age, who would be delighted to meet you socially!"

Helen kept her face calm with an effort.

"Is—homosexuality considered objectionable on the ship?"

Cass froze, and her face went white. She had clearly not expected a direct attack.

"Helen, what a question!"

"I see. You may as well have confirmed my suspicion. How is that possible?" Helen demanded, an uncomprehending frown creasing her forehead, her eyes showing her frustration. "Things had been moving so well at the time the ship was being built! _Everybody_ was recognizing the rights of homosexuals!"

Cass shrugged. "All we know is that things are the way they are. There are some videos in the banks that make us wonder! We can only assume that they reflect aberrations, and not the mainstream of Earth culture at the time of the launching," she said.

"No gay and lesbian marriages?"

Cass looked at her wide-eyed. " _Marriages?_ Of course not!"

It was hours later that Cass went off, seemingly unhappy about many of the things they had talked about, but satisfied with others. Somehow bisexuality was considered a part of youthful experimentation, and not an adult sexual orientation. There had been no mention of Alison, and the fact that there were unhappy and unmarried men and women everywhere, long past their youth, unable to submit to heterosexual marriage for simple and obvious reasons.

## Health problems

Lena and Summer stood in front of Helen, watching her in their usual intent way. Sometimes she felt like a specimen being inspected by a pair of excited biologists. The two of them had had a whale of a time prowling around the apartment, unpacking boxes, putting books away on shelves.

"Been enjoying yourselves, have you?"

Lena's eyes widened, while Summer's eyebrow went up a fraction. Her bangs had grown longer, and her eyebrows were almost lost under them. It was the winter break, and the girls were around all day, except when they headed out on one of their mysterious quests.

"Are you getting better?" asked Lena, "You look fine!"

Summer perked up. She nodded thoughtfully in agreement, her eyes inscrutable. Helen looked from one to the other, fascinated by them. Lena had changed subtly in the few months Helen had known her; she was more articulate, less childish, more self-assured. Instead of being Summer's willing slave, they were more partners, now, equal in initiating their little plans, and equal in implementing them. Helen felt a keen envy every time she saw another instance of their loyalty to each other, and the ever deepening friendship between them. A few months ago it would have been Summer who conducted this interview, and it would have gone differently.

"I guess I'm feeling a lot better," Helen said, her voice rusty as it always was in the mornings. She rose late, these days, and she felt a lethargy that she could not understand. All she wanted was to sleep. Some days she slept right through lunch, waking in the early afternoon with a headache and burning hunger.

"Would you like to come out walking with us?" Lena asked, stepping forward to tug at Helen's hand, smiling prettily. She had a little dimple, just at the corner of her mouth, and it seemed as if she could make it appear as she desired. "Come on!" she urged.

"I'm not even dressed," Helen said. Summer looked a little doubtful, but when Helen smiled at her, she grinned back.

Before Helen could organize her protests, they had gotten her clothes ready, helping her dress herself, and were doing her hair. Helen simply could not resist letting Lena comb and braid her hair; it filled her with so much pleasure that she sometimes felt like weeping. It reminded her of other, happy times, which seemed eons ago. She wondered whether Lena had an inkling of how much her little kindnesses meant to Helen.

Soon they were strolling down the little path to the woods. All the leaves were down, and the enormous tube of lights along the axis of the segment was visible clearly above them. Once again Helen felt an urge to look outside, to see space rushing invisibly by them. How could they simply go about their lives, not concerned about what was happening to them? But that was the way it was; not just the Dropouts, but _almost everybody_ seemed to care little about what was going on outside. There was, Helen knew, a hard core of individuals—fewer than a dozen—who were keenly interested, but they were by far in the minority.

There were a few birds about, singing, oblivious to the fact that they were not on a planet as they were supposed to be, but inside a monstrous container. Soon Helen forgot her cares, in the excitement of the various changes she saw everywhere. There was a skating rink set up in one of the clearings, and a number of skaters on it, watched by many others who didn't seem to dare get on the ice. They simply went round and round, though there was a large video display on a side that showed a recording of professional skating—probably an Olympic event from the mid-21st century, or some other international competition, Helen thought. In her childhood Helen, too, had been crazy about figure-skating. She recalled with a sigh a Christmas special she had made, in those first heady days when she had become famous while still in college. The special had featured her family and her friends, and in it, the angels had skated their message to the shepherds. It had been well-received, airing every Christmas season for five years.

There was a noticeable lack of holiday music in the shopping district as they passed it on the way home. The girls said people played music at home, and each store had its own music system, but sidewalk music was not allowed.

"Jeeze, Lena, you've grown," Helen said. The girl was now almost up to Helen's shoulder. The young lady in question looked at Helen puzzled, not certain whether to be pleased. Helen looked at Summer, who had also grown more than an inch. She sighed. She felt curiously unhappy at that.

Helen received a medical checkup, and she was given the bad news: her diabetes had grown worse. "Unfortunately, we only have the old medicine formulas from Earth; there might have been all sorts of developments by now," said the doctor.

Helen shrugged. "The old drugs were good enough for me," she said with an awkward smile.

But the three doctors, one of whom was Ted, were not happy. "Everybody must have forgotten that you were diabetic," he said. "We didn't get any updates about those kinds of endocrine disorders!"

"What do you mean?" Helen and the three doctors stared blankly at each other for a time.

"Well," said one of them, a handsome woman who appeared a little older than Helen, "we were in contact for almost thirty years, ship's time, you know. There was a lot of research, especially about aging, and gynecological matters, heart disease, gravity-related diseases, and so on."

"I see. You mean there were no breakthroughs for diabetes?"

"Oh, I'm sure there were, but . . . they didn't bother us with news they considered irrelevant, you see." The woman swallowed, and glanced reproachfully at her colleagues. "You're the only diabetic on board; I thought you might have guessed by now!"

Helen stared at them.

"What? How could that be? One in every, oh, fifty at least, was supposed to be diabetic, right? So the odds are almost impossibly low that I'm the _only_ diabetic on board!"

They explained. Everyone on board—all the colonists, that is, and their families—had been scanned to verify that they were neither diabetic, nor carried genes that would result in the disease among their offspring.

Helen had never felt so much an outsider. She would be a freak among these healthy people until she died. Further, she realized, her offspring would not be welcome among them, since they would surely carry a diabetic gene. She might be allowed to have children—they seemed gentle, kindly folk, by and large, not given to inflexibility—but Helen could not in good conscience allow herself to have children.

The medics were incredibly persistent, however. They gently but firmly told her that she would have to adopt a steady routine of exercise and careful diet. They enlisted Daisy and the kids to their cause, and it was impossible to resist them. Twice a day Daisy came into Helen's room with a knock and a call through the door, and hauled Helen off for a long walk.

"Apparently what happens is that some of the proteins in the cells simply don't respond to your insulin," she said, frowning.

"Yes, I know that," Helen said, trying not to sound impatient.

"You do? I didn't know you had a background in physiology!"

"I don't; it's just general knowledge, and anyway, they tell you all this when you're diagnosed with diabetes."

"Is that true?" Daisy asked, marveling. "Earth medicine was truly incredible," she murmured. "We know so little, because there's so little disease on board. But sooner or later, all that knowledge will be needed."

"Why? I mean, all the bad genes have been weeded out!"

Daisy shook her head. "Who knows what the future will bring?"

## School

That very winter, while Helen was still recovering, music classes were established. They lasted all day, except for breaks for meals and for Helen's exercise. It was a large indoor room near where Helen lived. For two hours early in the morning, Helen taught a crash course in basic musicianship. Then there was an hour's break, and then an hour of choral singing. Then they broke for lunch, and in the afternoon, she gave a series of individual lessons in singing or keyboard. Then someone took Helen out for more exercise, after which there were a few more individual lessons.

Lena was in the early-morning group, and Summer came to join her for the choral session. Then they went off on their own, until they came back for their individual lessons at the end of the day. They had quite different attitudes to the whole business. Summer was more of a connoisseur of music, and a bit of a critic, while Lena threw herself into it with a passion, and showed great promise at the keyboard within days. Intense though she was, she was never too preoccupied with herself to lose sight of what Helen was telling her. It was as if she could read Helen's mind. Sometimes she seemed to correct herself before Helen could say a word. Summer was quite as sensitive to Helen's words as her younger friend, but she was a lot more easily satisfied, and preferred to acquaint herself with lots of pieces than to play any one of them perfectly. Somehow, in the end, Lena and Summer seemed to know the same number of pieces, only Lena could play them far better than Summer.

"I wish I had a violin for you," Helen said often to Lena. Lena only shrugged and smiled.

One weekend Helen persuaded Daisy to walk with her to the camp. "They won't like me coming to their camp," Daisy had said, her eyes frightened. On being asked why, she declared that the Dropouts hated her. Helen pointed out that she had come to know Lucy quite well, hadn't she, and she couldn't possibly claim that Lucy had anything against her? "Anyway . . . after Bobby died," Daisy began.

"Do _you_ hate the Dropouts?"

Daisy dropped her eyes.

In spite of all the time they spent together, Helen knew very little about Daisy's feelings. It was odd; all her superficial thoughts were right on the surface, quite plain. But her innermost core was perfectly hidden. The things that _really_ mattered to Daisy were shut away. She was fiercely devoted to Helen and of course Lena and little Ben, but somehow it was as though there was a veil over the innermost motivations that made sense of that devotion. Lena, in contrast, was an open book, and Helen knew exactly what the kid felt. She loved Helen with all her heart, as she loved no one else except her mother—sometimes more, Helen knew, and felt guilty.

As Helen and Daisy walked out to the camp, she pondered these things, wondering whether Daisy's feelings for Helen, her trust in Helen, would stand the stress of going among folk she had for so long believed had killed her husband. It had been proved that the culprits were completely different, but thought-habits die hard.

The deeper they went into the woods, now leafless in winter, the closer to Helen Daisy walked. Of late Daisy's hair had lost its tired look, and was now gleaming with health under the scarf she had put on to cover her ears. Her small feet were pretty in soft moccasins, as she picked her way among the leaves. They began to see signs of the camp, and presently they were in the main clearing, watched by a number of smiling women. A little further off Helen could see a few men working on wood, making the furniture which they bartered for special clothes and gifts from other Dropout camps.

"Look," the word went round, "it's Helen, come back from the Ship!"

"Welcome back, Helen!"

"You have brought a friend!"

"Go call Lucy!"

Helen and Daisy were made comfortable in chairs, and warm drinks were brought out. Daisy quickly lost her fear of them when they admired her hair, and gave her little compliments on her clothes and her pretty face. They were more forthright in their remarks, unsophisticated, and Daisy seemed to respond to them.

Lucy came out, and Helen observed that she had put on a little weight and looked plump and voluptuous. She had gotten married to her beau, and confided that she was expecting a baby early in the summer. Helen congratulated her.

"So did you come to see Lucy?" they asked her, with sly smiles. Helen carefully avoided looking at Daisy.

"Actually, I was wondering whether Emil might help me make some instruments!"

Helen's goal had been to get Emil together with some of the men in the hippie commune, to get them making instruments for her. With wood and glue, they could make a great variety of instruments. Metal was scarce for casual uses, but plastic was available to a certain extent. Stocks of raw plastic had been brought on board the ship, but it wasn't available for frittering away. Most of the hardware of the instruments that was usually made of metal would have to be made out of plastic. All kinds of things were made out of plastic, and every scrap had to be recycled.

Well, thought Helen, they weren't looking at infinitely many instruments. However many they made, they would be kept and played for ever. It was no longer feasible to manufacture an infinite line of instruments to use and discard, as they had done on Earth. Back when she had been in college, their ambition had been to make an instrument a semester, every semester. Some semesters she had made several, for instance: a _viola da gamba_ , a set of recorders, and a guitar. The frugal shipboard existence seemed as natural to these people as it had seemed unnatural back on Earth.

Emil surprisingly agreed to accompany them back to meet the hippie woodcrafters. "I've heard about them," Emil said, "but I had no connection with them."

They were walking back together, and Emil seemed clearly amazed that the two women seemed so unafraid to walk about unprotected. He kept looking about nervously.

"Do you know where you're going?" he kept asking Helen. For ship folk, this mile through the woods was an enormous distance. Helen shook her head in wonder. Back on Earth, she had walked a hundred miles one summer, a distance Emil could not conceive of.

"The point is, can you find your way back?" Helen asked. "Or I'll have to bring you home, Emil!"

"I think I can," said he. He was clearly excited at the little adventure.

The Hippies met them with pleasure, and greeted Emil warmly. Daisy had not been out to the hippie commune either, and clung to Helen. They were not far from home, yet Daisy had managed to live a decade in the segment, never having set foot in the hippie part of the woods.

The Hippies had set up their woodworking area very professionally, unlike the Dropouts, who simply had tables, tools and wood supplies. Even Daisy was impressed, as she peered at the equipment. She looked so much like Lena that Helen smiled. How Lena would have enjoyed this little adventure; but Daisy had refused to even consider bringing her.

"Would you like to see how the lathe works?" a handsome young fellow asked Daisy, making her blush prettily. She nodded, and he made her a little ornament to take home with her. Daisy accepted it with a smile, and held it out to Helen proudly.

Emil was rather intimidated by the equipment. It was simple mechanical equipment that had been put together without computers and such paraphernalia, but still, more than Emil had. He confessed that most of his work was done by hand. One of the men walked up with a wooden bowl.

"I made that!" Emil cried, surprised. He looked at the smiling face of the man who had brought it. "Where did you get it?"

"I have a cousin who lives in Tropical," he said. "I just thought it might be yours!"

"It's beautiful," everyone agreed.

A while later, Helen and Daisy walked home together. Helen had convinced Emil to make her a copy of her violin, and the Hippies had promised, too. She would help with the shaping of the belly and back, and they would have to find a substitute for horsehair, but Helen was confident that they could make a playable violin.

Daisy kept up a cheerful chatter most of the way home. Then she became a little quiet.

"All this way, and you're not even out of breath," Daisy said quietly. "You're so healthy, I can't even believe you . . ."

"That I have diabetes."

"Well . . . yes. I wasn't going to say it!" Daisy sighed. "Soon you won't need me—need _us_ —anymore."

She fell silent, embarrassed at having shown Helen her feelings. For a second the veil had come all the way down, and Helen's heart felt full to bursting with all sorts of turbulent emotions. Helen got a firm grip on herself. It simply wouldn't do to lose control now.

"I'm afraid it's been a drag on you and the children," Helen said quietly. "It was rather unfair to burden just one woman and her whole family with the health of one person!"

"Burden?" Daisy exclaimed, glancing round at Helen in surprise. "You have some strange notions about what work is, Helen. I'm a nurse; that's what I do! Is it a burden to give your classes every day?"

"Well, that's not the same thing at all. That's why I'm here, to bring music to the ship!"

"But that's why _I'm_ here; to keep you healthy! Not just you, but . . . that's what I'm trained for, Helen. And you're special, and you need special care. And Lena loves you. But . . . I can see that you need your privacy—I mean, I understand that, naturally. I just wanted to say that—it was not a burden! Not at all."

"I don't want you to leave, either, Daisy, you and the children."

They walked in silence for a bit. In the end, it was Helen who spoke again.

"When you leave, I'm going to miss you all. You've . . . given me a lot. You couldn't possibly understand."

Helen realized it was true. The thought of living in the apartment all by herself was now completely unbearable. She would miss the incessant prowling of Lena and Ben, and the visits of Summer—which, of course, would probably not stop entirely—and most of all, she would miss the unique presence of Daisy.

After much discussion, Daisy consented to continue to live with Helen in her apartment. She said that they could apply for a small expansion of the apartment; it was possible to trade for extra space with neighbors. The Warrens had one of the larger homes in the segment, but Daisy insisted that they would be perfectly happy in Helen's apartment. Daisy's face was radiant with joy, a pure, crystal-clear state of existence, untainted with desire. Helen smiled back, pleased to be able to make Daisy and herself happy at once, and realized that she was deeply disappointed inside. What were they to each other? Only friends.

# Year 72: The Collegeum

## Holidays

As the days went by, the number of students in Helen's classes dropped, until they steadied at a couple of dozen. There were about a dozen young adults, of college age or a little younger, and the rest were kids aged from around ten to sixteen. Lena was the youngest, but one of the most talented. Among the older ones, there were several who were truly gifted, and all-round musicians in the making.

Shortly before Christmas, two new violins were ready. A vegetable fiber substitute for horsehair had been found that was barely acceptable, but the Hippies had engaged the services of a young woman in the materials department of ship's services, who promised to work on the problem for them. So now Helen could begin to teach violin to two lucky students, but first she had to play the new instruments, and adjust her technique to work on them effectively.

On the weekends, Helen headed out to the camp of the Dropouts, and taught the children carols to sing at Christmas and for Hanukkah, since a large proportion of the Dropouts happened to be of the Jewish faith. The Hippies had joined Helen's classes, and the chorus had several of them in it. It had now become known as _The Collegium_ , and on Christmas Eve, they performed a three-hour festival of music that was broadcast throughout the ship. In every segment, interested folk watched Helen's students sing and play keyboards, marveling at the achievements of those who had studied music for a mere few weeks.

The Dropouts, of course, did not tune in to these activities. A few of them saw the program on the screens of the shopping centers. But they had their own celebration with their own music, and Helen attended part of it. At midnight on Christmas Eve, they watched a video of fireworks, shown on the large wall of the meeting-house and the children exclaimed with excitement, while Helen sat and sighed. When would they ever see fireworks with their own eyes? Would they ever feel real dirt beneath their feet? Would they see above them the friendly sky of a planet, instead of the glare of artificial light? Helen felt an almost paralyzing wave of claustrophobia, and knew what the Dropouts must feel. Children of pioneers, with no escape, trapped inside a ship . . . her heart ached for them.

That night, after Helen got home, she found the children and Daisy waiting for her. They had had dinner with their grandmother, and returned home to wait for Helen. Summer had begged to stay too, but her parents had put their foot down, and she was home with her family. Throughout the evening Lena and Summer called each other on the phone, until Daisy and Ruth asked them to stop it.

"You should tell the Christmas story, Mom," Lena said. "Ben was only six last time."

Daisy turned pale, and her haunted eyes looked at Helen in pure misery. Helen stared back at her. What was the matter?

Lena came to the rescue.

"It was Dad who told the story, usually," she said, looking rather pale herself. "Maybe you could tell it, Aunt Helen."

"Yes," said Ben, looking a little concerned. He had already put his father away into some safe chamber in his mind, and was not entirely sure about what agitated his womenfolk. "You could tell it," he added, nodding. He wasn't particularly close to Helen; he preferred the company of his grandmother and great-grandmother. But he was getting gradually more comfortable with Helen, for which she was grateful.

They were seated on the rug in the living-room, where they usually sat when they gathered round together, which was rarely. Helen took a deep breath, and began. She had given up believing in bible stories long, long ago. In a vague sense she thought of herself as a believer; she occasionally prayed, and she felt as though something or someone answered her. She was a specialist in the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, the greater part of whose music had been church music. Helen had found Bach's spirituality both embarrassingly naive and irresistibly infectious.

"Long ago, there was a girl who was engaged to a man to be married, and her name was Mary," Helen began. They all listened, their eyes riveted on her face and her lips. As she recounted the charming story, she realized with surprise how much of it was real to her, even if it was impossibly fanciful. The response of those—probably fictitious—shepherds was burned in her imagination as firmly as if she had been a witness to the event, thanks to her thirty-odd Christmases with the music of Bach and Handel and Schutz and many others. And as she told the story, it was as though the love she felt for them crystallized, as Ben gazed into her face, fascinated, the eyes of his imagination focused on the events she was describing so beautifully.

"And they opened up their boxes, and gave young Jesus the presents they had brought, ointments, and incense, and gold. And it was a sign that Jesus would become someone special. And then they returned to their homes."

"And what did Jesus do after that?" Ben wanted to know, but Helen was practiced at this kind of thing, and she told him that that was another story.

"It's time for bed, you little monkeys," Daisy said softly. "Go change, or Santa won't be coming round."

"Ooh, ooh, ooh," said Ben, racing out, closely followed by Lena.

Daisy got to her feet, thanking Helen with her eyes. "You're welcome," Helen said softly, and was rewarded with a wonderful, soft smile. Helen reached out and held onto Daisy's foot, making her eyes go wide with shock. Helen's heart was so full that the prospect of going to bed all alone almost made her sick with loneliness. She simply could not help herself; smiling, she held onto Daisy's ankle, groping around in her mind for something to say.

"Please, Helen, let me go," Daisy said, tugging at her foot. "Please!"

Blushing bright red, Helen let go. She gave an embarrassed laugh, in which Daisy joined briefly, before she fled. She looked lovely that night, dressed all in deep red and green.

Helen dragged herself off to wash her face and change into her sleep clothes, a flannel nightie and warm socks. There was a heavy scarf she often wore round her throat, though she had been told repeatedly that it did more harm than good. She heard the sounds of the excited siblings getting ready for bed, and Daisy's voice reasoning with them. Then, unexpectedly, she heard a knock on her door. She knew Daisy's knock well, by now.

"Come on in, Daisy," she said, her heart speeding up.

All three of them stood at the door, Lena and her mother in their nightgowns, and little Ben in pajamas.

"Can we sleep with you, Aunt Helen, just tonight?"

It was almost a miracle; it was the one thing Helen would have wished for, if she had had the imagination to think of it. She made space in her bed, and soon the children were snuggled against her on either side, and Daisy lay gingerly at the edge of the bed, next to Ben. She had offered to sleep in her own bed, but Ben wouldn't hear of it, and neither would Helen. She held little Lena tight against her, and made more room for Ben.

Initially, as the children wriggled around getting comfortable, it was indescribable pleasure for Helen. She had accepted without questioning how she felt about the kids at first, when she initially made their acquaintance. But each new intimacy with them surprised her more and more. How could she feel so happy to have _children_ in her bed? It was almost like a drug.

After the children had fallen asleep—which was very quickly—Helen remained awake, listening to Daisy's breathing. Daisy was wide awake, and she seemed to fill the bed with her presence, and her soft, warm fragrance.

_I have to sleep first,_ Helen told herself. _There's no point talking to her. She's too tense to sleep._ So Helen focused on her breathing, and with considerable effort, was able to fall asleep. When she woke up later that night, Daisy was asleep.

Helen cautiously disentangled herself from the children, leaving a pillow in her place. They had all migrated towards the middle of the bed, since it was so cold outside, and they kept their house colder than they needed to, to save energy. She tiptoed out to her secret cache of gifts for the children, spent a few minutes in Daisy's room wrapping them.

Suddenly she heard soft footsteps, and sighed in resignation. You just couldn't get away from the kids.

But it was Daisy.

"I was wondering where you had gone!" Daisy exclaimed softly. "Where did you get all this?"

"Don't you worry about that," Helen said, feeling a little grumpy. She had a gift for Daisy, too, and she wanted her out quickly. "Go back to bed," Helen insisted, "I'll be along soon!"

"Let me help," Daisy begged.

Daisy's gift was still in its box at Helen's feet, unnoticed.

"All right," said Helen, belatedly; Daisy was already at work, her slim fingers folding the paper magically into neat little folds. She held out the package to Helen, ready to tape down. When their fingers touched, Helen expected Daisy to snatch her hands away, but she only ignored the touch. They were a good team. _Anybody_ would make a good team with Daisy, Helen told herself firmly.

"Go on, now" Helen told her, "I have one more."

Daisy looked at Helen a long second. It was a moment Helen would not forget soon.

"You shouldn't have," said Daisy softly, her eyes shining. "I don't have anything for you!"

Helen dropped her eyes, embarrassed. She understood how Daisy felt. When she was a girl, growing up in Kansas, there had been occasions when her friends had given her gifts when she had nothing to offer in return. But now . . . it was only a small gift. Helen had anticipated that Daisy would not have a gift for her. At least, Helen could give it in private.

Helen reached down, and slowly brought out the piece of paper. She handed it to Daisy, her heart in her mouth. "I hope you like it," she said, her voice hoarse.

It was a portrait Helen had done of Daisy from memory. It showed her in a characteristic pose, her hand on the door jamb, looking in.

Daisy took it and stared at it, transfixed. When she looked up a long time later, her eyes were wide with awe.

"How did you do it?" she asked in a whisper.

Helen shrugged. "From memory," she said awkwardly. "It's easy for me. The hard part was hiding it from you!" Helen hid her confusion with a grin.

Daisy stood, and walked about the room, a little dazed, looking at the portrait. She finally mumbled that it was beautiful, too beautiful for a Christmas present. "I don't feel right accepting it," she said finally.

"I just— _like_ you, Daisy; please don't be embarrassed by it."

Then, without a word, they had their arms around each other in a soft hug. Helen's every nerve wanted to turn it into something more passionate, but the magic of Christmas was still with them. They parted with an innocent little kiss, but it was as though something had been sealed between them, perhaps something different than what Helen wanted. But still, it was wonderful.

In a daze they put the things away, and the gifts in the traditional places for the kids to find them, that is, at the foot of their beds.

By the time the women got back, the children had snuggled together in the middle of the bed. With great courage, Daisy asked Helen to get in first, that she would slide in after. And so Helen found herself wedged between Lena and her mother. Daisy asked Helen to turn towards Lena, and pressed herself against the warmth of Helen's back. And miraculously, they both fell asleep.

In the morning, the children woke up and scrambled over Helen and Daisy in their haste to get out of bed and scout out the house. Helen turned to Daisy, whose face was shining with secret delight. They heard a soft exclamation when Ben discovered his little trove, and Daisy giggled with delight. She put her arms around Helen, and her face melted into tears.

Helen held her, whispering soft words of comfort. Daisy wept for a long minute.

"What would I have done if you weren't here?" she sobbed.

"Alison would have looked after you," Helen said. Daisy froze, her face buried in her hands, and then slowly nodded. She was gradually recovering her friendship with her mother in law, but there was still some distance to go. "Are you all right?" Helen asked her. Daisy raised her face to look into Helen's eyes. She nodded. "Let's go check on the kids! I don't want to miss this sight!" Daisy smiled. She was so much like Lena at that moment that Helen caught her breath. Helen caught herself about to say how much she loved Daisy, but she kept silent. It would only make matters far too complicated.

Daisy stumbled out of bed, and reached out a hand to Helen. They pulled on their robes, and headed out to see the children.

They were seated on their beds, their faces shining, carefully opening their packages, to save the paper.

"Did you get something for Summer?" Lena asked in a whisper.

"Me? It was Santa Claus!" Helen said, with a scowl. Lena's scowl in return made Helen laugh. She had a quirky sense of humor that always surprised Helen.

The children were pleased with their gifts, which the folk at the commune had turned out for Helen at her request. Ironically, the one free material was wood; the ship was well-stocked with trees, which were replaced as fast as they were harvested. Iron, brass, aluminum, these things were hard to come by, and to work. Old metal artifacts were at a premium. So the bracelet Helen had given Lena was a great treasure.

It was one of the most wonderful times of Helen's life. The classes went on hiatus briefly, and Helen was free to roam around, visit her friends, and be invited for a few dinners at the homes of Cass, Alison, Jeannie, and other bigwigs. The mood everywhere was festive, and Helen was told in no uncertain terms that since she had been revived ship's morale had climbed higher than it had been for decades.

"Everyone is at peace, crime is low; the sub-cultures have developed relaxed relations among themselves; and most importantly, births are up!"

" _What?_ " Helen couldn't quite believe she had heard right.

"The birth rate had been down to less than .5% a year this summer," said Greg. "It's shot up to almost a birth a month, and we're getting reports of almost a new pregnancy every week," he continued. "They will most of them go to term, which means we're up to 10%!"

Helen looked alarmed.

"Isn't that a problem?"

There was general laughter. Apparently there had been some confusion about the capacity of the vessel. But reading the documentation that had been long ignored, Jeannie and company had learned a great deal. There was provision for the expansion of the ship, and the ideal population size had been determined to be ten times larger than they had assumed. Most of the newer family units would have to live in cabins, which were more efficient space-wise. The segments would have to serve everyone as common areas, and segment residence would be available only as a special privilege, which had to be earned through service.

At first, at these events the hosts were careful not to bring up the subject of music. The thinking was that if Helen was considered a mere after-dinner entertainer she was less likely to accept an invitation. Eventually, at the third dinner, which was at Jeannie's, Helen simply offered. "I wish you had a keyboard," she told Jeannie quietly in the kitchen, "Don't you miss having some music?"

"But we do! Oh goodness, that would be wonderful! Are you sure?" asked Jeannie, always thoughtful.

"Certainly! Bring it on out! Or tell me where it is, I'll go get it."

"Oh no, it's in Willie's room, I'll just tell him. _Willie!_ " she yelled, which came out not very loud, since Jeannie was soft-spoken to a fault. Soon Willie was hauling one of the better keyboards out to the sitting-room, with a grin for Helen. He loved to fool around with the thing, Jeannie said to Helen, but didn't have the patience to attend the classes.

Helen played something short, and then seeing some of her pupils among the guests, invited one of them to play something. And so a tradition started.

After the holidays, schools began again, and to Helen's surprise, there was a great demand for her to keep up the Collegium sessions. Its administration had been taken over by one of the older students, Beatrice Sisson, who reported to Helen that there were about ten students who were ready to give up other work in order to take up the study of music full-time, as well as a number of new students, from among the so-called Dropouts. There were three from Helen's own camp, namely Lucy and the Oldfield siblings, and two others from Ocean.

Beatrice herself was one of the students. Now the lessons settled down into something more like a traditional music academy. To Helen's surprise and pleasure, the fifteen students more than kept up with Helen's accelerated pace, and furthermore, the five from the Dropout camps were the best musicians among them, not least Lucy.

Helen kept up a punishing schedule for herself, the Collegium, occasional visits to schools, and occasional visits to the little factory she had helped set up near the hippie commune, at which there were a few people making a steady trickle of musical instruments such as guitars, recorders and violins.

Beatrice was an outstanding musician. A quiet woman in her late twenties, she had a wonderful ear, and a way with young people. She helped Helen initially with choral rehearsals, and then with the occasional performance. Soon she was proficient enough to take Helen's place in visiting the schools, and conducting singing lessons for middle-schoolers. She was so well-liked, there were requests for repeat visits.

Lucy was not far behind. She, too, was a formidable talent at the keyboard, and just as Beatrice relieved Helen of some of the responsibility of leading choral rehearsals, Lucy took over some of the lessons in the afternoons for beginner keyboardists. Helen felt herself beginning to believe that the artistic and musical life on the ship was a lot less fragile than it had been when she had been revived.

One day Helen told Daisy that the walking was not enough for her.

Daisy looked at her sternly. "You didn't even want to walk until I made you," she pointed out.

Helen groaned. "I had been sick, Daisy. I had been sick for a long, long time, and naturally I wasn't interesting in moving much at all."

"You were depressed," Daisy told her, feeling extraordinarily brave. She looked right into Helen's eyes defiantly, chewing her lip. "I knew you were, but didn't dare tell you." Helen nodded. It was too much of an uncomfortable subject. "What do you want to do, then, instead of walk?"

"Can I run?"

"It's too cold, you'll hurt yourself!"

"More important, is there a running track somewhere?"

Daisy frowned, and Helen knew she had never heard of such a thing. Of all the stupid things, she thought; a running track was a natural on such a ship.

When she appealed to Cass, and Cass spoke to the medicos, it was agreed that a running track made wonderful sense. All they had to do was to lay special absorbent material in a band around the cylinder, and there was six miles of track right there. Apparently there had been such a track at one time, but it had fallen into disuse. People preferred to swim in the sea in Ocean, and in Temperate, people simply walked. In Tropical, apparently, there was a track that was still used.

Every day, rising before the sun, Helen dressed in a bra and shorts and running shoes, and ran. She gave it all she had, and after some weeks of it, found that it was working. Helen was surprised that Daisy was curious enough to come out with her and watch her running.

Out of politeness, Helen asked Daisy whether she would like to run, too. Daisy smiled enigmatically, and said that perhaps she could like to give it a try. Helen paced her, and encouraged her to turn around just at the point at which Daisy could make it back to where they started without difficulty. After Daisy was comfortably doing her stretching exercises, Helen set off for her usual run, and came back, only slightly out of breath.

"You have a beautiful body," Daisy said softly, as they walked home.

"Thanks," said Helen, blushing. It was always difficult to be flippant with Daisy.

"Why don't you spend more time with—Lucy?" Daisy asked next.

"Daisy, don't . . . don't . . ." Helen felt confused. "I don't feel comfortable talking about things like that," she told her companion.

Daisy hung her head. Helen felt awful. "I wish we were close enough that—you could talk to me about what bothers you, Helen. I know all about sex, you know. I'm a nurse, after all. I nursed you when you were sick; I cleaned you up!" She looked up into Helen's eyes in that incredible innocent way she had. "If you can't talk to me, who else is there?"

Helen could have screamed with frustration. _Anyone else would be fine,_ she felt like shouting. You're the only one I can't talk to about . . .

"Yes, yes . . ." Helen said, nodding gravely. Oh, if only she could blush, to be more convincing. But embarrassment was not the problem. Or maybe it was; somehow Helen could not imagine talking to Daisy about the deepest things in her heart, the things that really mattered to her. Or rather, she could; but the thought of it was so seductive she dared not even begin to open up.

"You're looking odd . . ." Daisy said, quickly, in a low concerned voice. "You're all pale. We'd better get home."

"I'm fine," Helen said, unable to avoid sounding a little provoked. "I'm fine Daisy." Then, after a little thought she added, "I guess, when I'm good and ready . . . I'll take you up on that."

Daisy gave her a look, while Helen walked on, her eyes on the road under her feet. Then she looked ahead with a soft sigh. They were both silent until they got to the house.

## The Summer

Helen hadn't really expected the rhythm of life around her to change with the seasons, but as the days grew longer—that is, the daylight hours started earlier and ended later—many changes took place. The trees sprouted their leaves, as they could have been expected to, and there was an exuberance, especially among the children. The little playground near their corner of the segment began to be filled with little people swinging, running around, throwing Frisbees, and playing with hula-hoops. Simple games like Tag were favorites, but there was a notable lack of ball games, except for Tennis. Helen was told that the balls sometimes went out of control, and games such as baseball and cricket had been banned. The Tennis courts had screens high overhead, to keep balls inside the courts. Soccer and volleyball, though, were played, though interest in them seemed to have fallen off in recent times. Swimming was ever popular, both in the small city pools, and in the sea out in Ocean.

Daisy declined to swim, so the children were delighted that Helen consented to take them out to the pool. Showing skin in public was not something adults indulged in, and even teenagers seemed reluctant to do it. There was an overall prudish attitude towards dress.

Towards the end of the summer, Daisy came out with them, and lay on the grass by the pool side and read a book, wearing a light skirt and blouse. It was a nice pool, and there were usually about ten children in it at all times of the day. Every family was assigned a time, and they were allowed guests, so that it was a different time every weekend. The mornings during weekdays were reserved for athletes, and the evenings for organized activities.

After Bobby's murder, Helen could hardly bear the thought of dragging Daisy and the kids out to the courts. Finally, she brought it up cautiously at home, and managed to get them all past the immediate negative reactions. Once Lena said she could stand to go back on the court, Daisy took a deep breath and said yes, they should. Daisy played with Lena and Summer nearly every week, and often with Alison and Cass, too. Daisy insisted on sitting on the bench and watching. Thankfully, none of the others ever poked fun at her, but Helen knew Daisy watched her. And Helen wondered whether Daisy saw how much she enjoyed being watched. Alison and Cass admired the smart tennis clothes Helen had brought with her, and Helen felt incredibly excited as she sailed into the air to play a high backhand volley, as Lena and Summer gasped in admiration.

The school schedule was relaxed to some degree in the weeks preceding Easter, and in the month of July. The month of August was a school holiday, during which time there was a frenzied effort all around the Segment to clean up everything, streets, homes, schools, and woods.

As far as the music classes were concerned, by the end of the summer things had developed a great deal. In addition to her singing and keyboard students, Helen had several violin students, including little Ben, and several hippie kids who were very talented. Lucy, Beatrice and six others were out in the schools, teaching choral singing. They had discovered that younger kids loved percussion, and they were able to turn out triangles and cymbals and drums from recycled materials for little orchestras at a couple of schools.

Beatrice had now taken over the basic musicianship classes, while Helen concentrated on the advanced theory and musicology lessons. A number of young folk were discovering various talents.

Frank Williams, a friend of Alison and Bobby, turned out to be an excellent music historian. He had listened to classical music more seriously than anyone before Helen came on the scene, and under Helen's guidance had become familiar with almost the entire major repertoire spanning the period from plain-chant to the mid-20th century. His taste was catholic, and Helen started him on music appreciation classes on the weekends. It was Frank who discovered Helen's own commercial recordings in the database, and it was Frank also, who began the business of Helen recordings, from the performances she made on the ship. Music discs were almost indestructible little things about two inches in diameter, and Frank simply duplicated them, and traded them for various trinkets and favors. Duplicating discs was freely permitted, so once anybody got a disc into their hands, there was nothing to prevent them from making copies, except the materials and the equipment, and the patience to do it. Other performers were also featured, and the ship's population seemed to prefer music made on board ship to commercially recorded music from the ship's computer banks.

Summer was taller now, and so was Lena, up to Helen's shoulder, and as tall as Daisy. Ben was beginning to grow, too, and becoming quite a charmer, and fond of the ladies. Cass seemed never to change, while Alison put on a little weight around the hips. Helen was very fond of the handsome redhead, and watched the growing friendship between Daisy and her mother-in-law with satisfaction. Ted still flirted with Helen, and on a number of occasions, the two of them came dangerously close to getting into bed together.

Lucy's baby arrived in August, a handsome little boy with a head full of brown hair, and the most amazingly perfect eyebrows. Helen was allowed to carry him around for almost an hour when Helen went to visit soon after the baby was born. Daisy had allowed Lena to go along, and Lena made a dozen friends all in one afternoon.

# Year 72: Traveling

## A Tour

Shortly afterwards, Helen decided the Collegium was in sufficiently good hands for her to take some time off. She had been talking to Daisy about her urge to explore the ship from nose to tail so often that Daisy had taken matters into her own hands. One evening, after Helen had been out visiting the Hippies, she came home to find Alison waiting patiently for her.

"Hello!" she said, seeing Alison seated, facing the door. Around were seated Lena, her mother, and Ben, each absorbed in his or her own business, looking up only long enough to smile a greeting at Helen. "What brings you out here, Alison?"

"I was told about your hankering after a little exploration," Alison said quietly with a little smile.

Helen looked at Daisy reproachfully. It had been a while since she had been out to Lizzie's place, and she felt rotten about not having visited for so long. Back in the fall, she had visited the Warren home almost every other day, but that was before Daisy moved in with her. It said a lot about where matters lay, and Helen wished it didn't.

"If you had called me I'd have come, Alison," she said, coloring a little. "You didn't have to come out all the way here!"

"Would you like a guide?" Alison said, cutting to the heart of the matter.

"Who?" asked Helen, until she saw Alison grinning. " _You?_ " Alison nodded. This was an opportunity indeed. Alison probably knew more about the ship and its workings than anyone else. Her specialty had been life-support, but she was now head of engineering, and was regarded as a model for everyone who would follow in her position. She had not only survived the shock of learning that they had missed the continuity reports for a decade, but managed to get the ship up to date with minimum cost. Helen nodded vigorously. "Are you going on business, or just for fun?"

"Well, it'll be business," Alison said, "if I take a phone with me. It's always business, Helen." Helen nodded; she knew that. Alison was on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week. She was rarely disturbed at home, because there were other well-trained staffers who could handle most things. But they had all been present on occasions when Alison had been called to be told about a fire here, or a leak there.

Alison stayed the night, and they were up before the birds the next morning, very early, before full light. Helen had put away her things carefully, and now she hugged the children, briefly embraced Daisy, and headed out with Alison. On her back were her little computer, a recorder, and a change of clothing and underwear.

"We'll take the elevator to the nose, and then work our way back," Alison said, and Helen agreed to that plan. Talking in a low voice about the layout of the ship, Alison set a steady pace along the pathway to the radial elevator, and Helen followed easily. Alison was in wonderful shape for a sixty-something-year-old, Helen observed. Her upper-arms were now a little heavier than when they had first met, but her breathing was unlabored and easy.

While Helen studied Alison discreetly, approving of her excellent health and physical condition, her calm, cheerful manner and understated beauty, Alison in turn, certainly observed Helen with keen interest. At first Helen was reserved, making only the occasional remark, asking a question now and then, revealing knowledge of scientific matters that pleased Alison. While folks on the ship all had a decent technical education (in addition to other aspects of general education) it was rare to find the kind of thoughtfulness Helen showed, clearly connecting everything she saw with what she knew. While Alison had never found Helen actually _chatty_ in her company, she noticed that Helen was not a big talker. However, after a while, Alison realized that she was singing to herself, very softly. When Alison indicated that she had noticed, Helen only smiled, and sang a little louder. It seemed a sincere way for Helen to tell Alison that she was enjoying herself.

They had priority for practically everything, and the elevator came at once. It was early morning, around six, ship's time, and there was little traffic in any case. Alison guided Helen inside with a gesture that was almost fatherly. "OK, strap in," she said, waiting for Helen to comply, and then the elevator began to rise.

"I've been studying the outside views," Helen began, "and the segments look just a bit crooked! Sort of conical, actually!"

"Good observation," Alison remarked, with approval. "They are cylinders, but the aft boundaries are all conical. It was considered more efficient for handling thrust," Allie explained, "but considering the minute thrust involved, I don't think it makes much of a difference!"

Helen nodded. She knew a fair measure of physics, having taken physics in college, and having paid attention.

"What _is_ the acceleration, anyway?"

"A quarter of a _g_ ," Allie replied. "Initially it was more, but we've cut back to save fuel."

They changed into the axial elevator with the usual gymnastics, and headed towards the nose; that is, northward, as directions were described aboard ship.

"You know, I keep expecting a rumble; I mean, the bearings for the segments must be huge, mustn't they? So you'd expect a constant low rumble, but there isn't any!"

Alison smiled. She had explained this before, but Helen had evidently forgotten. "The whole ship rotates, not just the individual cylinders."

"The whole ship?" Helen thought about that briefly. "But then, won't navigation be a nightmare? I mean, for tricky maneuvers, you couldn't see what you were doing, whirling around at—I don't know what rate!"

"It's about half a revolution a minute," Alison revealed. "Actually, there's a piloting nacelle, way up front, which does go around on bearings in the opposite direction. Nobody stays there very long, because it's exposed. We can go look at it now, briefly."

"What is that—a _piloting nacelle?_ "

"Just a cabin, out on an arm," Alison described, using her hands. "It sticks out beyond the scoop, with a counter mass on the other side, both of which rotate just fast enough to stay put, you see? So when we look out of the rest of the ship, the sky rotates at half a rotation a minute, and the piloting nacelle does, too. When we're in the nacelle, the ship looks as if _it's_ whirling round, while the nacelle stays put." Helen nodded. "There certainly are bearings for the nacelle, but they're not heavy enough to create a rumble."

The elevator seemed to take forever. Helen was awed simply considering the size of the enormous vessel. It had been an enormous expense to raise all the needed materials into orbit around the moon.

(Helen had donated part of her personal fortune to the project long before she had been invited to be a member of it. Her brother and sister—half-siblings—had disagreed among themselves about what Helen had done. Her sister had said she didn't care, but her brother had been furious. Helen had created a trust for him and his mother, after which he had quit complaining. They lived on a tiny farm in Kansas, the farm on which Helen had grown up. Times were hard, and it was hard for them to see Helen throw her fortune into what must have seemed a futile project, unrelated to the needs of the Nordstrom family. Helen wondered whether her contribution was enough to put even one cubic yard of the gigantic vessel into space.)

After what seemed like hours, but was only forty-five minutes according to Alison, they arrived at the furthest extreme that the elevator would take them. They were already in zero gravity, but Helen was finding it a lot easier to bear than she had remembered. There were other smaller elevators that went further, but Alison scorned them. "Come on," she said, leading the way through a hatch into a zero-gravity tube, the kind that Helen was familiar with, going back and forth to and from Ocean. Alison was cautious at first, sending Helen on ahead. After seeing her go for a few seconds, she laughed at her doubt. "You're a natural," she said.

"Well, I've been out to Ocean, which you knew," Helen said, interrupting her singing.

"I see. So you didn't take the elevator?"

"No, I was with Dropouts, and they hate to have anything to do with ship staff."

"Hmm."

Helen wondered how much she should reveal about the Dropouts.

"Here we are," said Alison presently. She turned around to face Helen in the dim light, clinging to a rail. "This is the furthest forward we can go into the pressurized part of the ship. This here," she said, thumping on the wall behind her, "is a three-foot-thick armored plate, and on the other side is a scoop, as wide as a segment, that sucks in space debris."

"Why suck it in? Why not just deflect it off?"

"Fuel," Alison said, "or rather, propellant. We heat it up to plasma, and shoot it out the back at much faster speeds. So we don't use up all the material we have."

Helen's eyes went wide, as she nodded. To constantly accelerate, the ship had to shoot out matter from its rocket exhaust. They only had a finite amount of matter to expend, and so every bit of debris was precious.

"You can't look out directly in front, because it wasn't considered safe. But there's a periscope," Alison said, beckoning Helen. They opened a hatch on the side, and faced a large bay window. Alison motioned Helen into the bay, and took her place behind her. Helen could see a star field in the window, slowly rotating counterclockwise. It was thick with stars, when Helen's eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"That's dead ahead?"

"Uh huh," Alison said. "And you know why it's rotating."

" 'Cause we are."

"Correct!"

Helen stared out through the window for a long time. This view did not give any hint of how fast they were traveling, to Helen's naive mind. All around the circular view was a faint halo. When she asked Alison, she was told that it was the scoop itself. It was almost totally dark, but the faint starlight reflected a slight glimmer from all round, which appeared as a faint halo. Helen sighed and stepped back. Alison took her place, to look out for a few seconds, and she too stepped back with a sigh. They laughed together, and closed it up. "Now," said Alison, "we work our way to the tail. We'll look at everything!"

Helen grinned. Alison was so youthful in her manner! She was a very lovable woman, and Helen had liked her from the first.

## The Piloting Nacelle

The very next stop was the piloting nacelle.

They returned to the section immediately south of the tube (along which they had gone out to the scoop), and out through a hatch on the side. "To save energy, the nacelle is allowed to slow down," Alison said. "But it still keeps going. You can just barely hear it . . ."

Helen listened intently, and for the first time, she did hear a rumble. The bearings were so good that the nacelle kept going on its own.

Now began an elaborate procedure to get into the nacelle. They strapped themselves into seats on the side of the little chamber they were in, and Alison threw a switch. There was the hum of a motor, the rumble of bearings, and gradually the little chamber began to move, until eventually a light shone green. "We've matched speeds with the nacelle," Alison explained. "This way."

They pulled themselves along another tubeway, until they arrived at a hatch. Alison had told Helen that this was a dangerous place to be in. The nacelle was exposed to space debris simply because it was outside the perimeter of the scoop. Little pebbles hurtling by could shatter a window, instantly killing anyone who was inside. It was also very cold.

Alison had turned the heat on from the access way, but it was still warming up. The inside looked like the bridge of a spaceship, with about four stations with consoles that looked vaguely like the pilot's station on an airliner.

Right on cue, as Helen looked out, something approached them at enormous speed, only to be pulverized by a beam that was invisible to them. Alison ducked instinctively, but Helen simply stared, shocked.

"God, it does happen, doesn't it!"

Alison nodded solemnly. "It's good to know the system works."

The nacelle was brought up to speed, until the star field outside the window stopped rotating. For the first time Helen saw the scoop, off to their right, rotating slowly with the rest of the ship. Through the rear window Helen could see the entire gigantic vessel, all six miles of it, rotating slowly clockwise, as if it were screwing itself into space.

Initially, made afraid by the near miss of the piece of debris, Helen wanted to get back into safety, but once the view got her in its grip, she sat and stared, fascinated. They were so far from anything, she could not sense any motion at all. Alison had assured her that the ship was traveling at a good clip, something like a couple of million meters per second. At speeds like that, Helen's ability to make sense of the speed failed her. She knew the speed of light was something like three multiplied by ten raised to the tenth power centimeters per second, but what was that in miles per hour? A lot faster than the ship, anyway, she told herself.

The rotating ship at right distracted her. She looked out back, and asked Alison to point out which segment was which. The one immediately behind was Tropical, a smaller segment; behind it was Ocean, which was also small. Then came Temperate, the longest and coldest segment.

Helen turned round, and saw Alison smiling fondly at her.

"Why do you smile?" she asked, smiling back.

"I just wonder—what the ship folk will make of you!" Alison said, continuing to smile. "I think they'll like you!"

Helen shook her head. "Sometimes I think I'm a little too successful in that department," she confessed. "I try so hard, I almost don't know how to be me anymore."

Alison's smile faded.

"Try," she said. "I appreciate politeness, but beyond that . . . it's good to know that when you smile, you—really mean it."

"I do," Helen said quickly. "I _make_ myself mean it!" But Alison only shook her head.

They set out down the access way, got into the carousel thing that matched their speed to the speed of the ship, and then headed into the operations section.

"This is essentially the bridge of the ship," Alison explained. It was a large hall, at low gravity, in which about fifty people sat at computer stations, facing a large composite monitor that showed essentially the view from the nacelle. At the sides there were other views, as well as data displays that rotated between several important ones. There was an area set off from the rest, which was the engine section, in which two young fellows stared at screens which Alison said told them of the status of the thrusters, as well as the attitude jets which adjusted the spin of the ship. For various reasons, the ship did not keep spinning at a constant rate, and once a week the spin had to be corrected. Every time the nacelle was powered up, for instance, she ship picked up a bit of spin.

Leaving Helen to study the scene, Alison had a little meeting with her staff, speaking in low voices. There were polite smiles in Helen's direction, but it was clear that they had not been told who Helen really was.

"Ready?" asked Alison after a while. She had been talking to a young woman who had looked intensely relieved to see her. They were done now, and Alison was ready to go. "Next, we go to the observatory."

"Like, telescopes and stuff?"

"Yes. We started out with a fair one, but we've made better ones. Our latest was just put into service around Christmas," Allie told her with pride. "I don't know much about the technical aspects of it, but I thought you might be interested."

"Oh, I most certainly am," Helen said.

## The Observatory

The astronomers were an eager lot, and hurried over to greet them. Helen was clearly identified to this group—as Sleeper 1. They were only too willing to tell her all about the astronomy of their present situation.

A young woman who looked very south Asian—in fact Indian—took Helen in hand. She seated Helen at the telescope screen, and pointed out many of the constellations that were familiar from Earth. Helen exclaimed that one of them looked a little different.

The girl was delighted. "You saw that, did you? You're very observant!"

"Why is that?"

"It's parallax," she explained. "We've come far enough that the nearer stars have moved relative to the further stars, like when you might have traveled in a train, when you were on Earth! Have you traveled by train?" she asked, embarrassed. Helen assured her she had, but that the effect was as evident when traveling by car. It was only then that it struck Helen that the young woman had never been on Earth. She was simply trying to appeal to what she assumed Helen's experiences might have been—correctly, as it turned out.

It was Helen's first bit of direct evidence that she was far from the planet on which she was born. A wave of sadness washed over her, which she disguised by looking through the eyepiece again.

The young woman told her a great deal. Helen learned that her name was Anu, and that her mother had spotted the first planet, which had turned out to be uninhabitable. "So Astronomy is in my blood," she explained. "So, what is your specialty? Mathematics? Literature?"

"Me? I'm a musician," Helen said, wondering whether that was the right decision.

"Really?" The girl was pleased and interested. "You know, my family is from South India, where we have Carnatic music. Have you heard of it?"

"Certainly," said Helen smiling. "Not only have I heard of it, I have learned to sing some of it, and I studied _Bharatha Natyam_ for a couple of months! It is wonderful," she said, pleased that the girl was aware of the musical part of her culture.

"Do you, really?" she asked, surprised and delighted. "I wish you could meet my parents!" She told Helen that her name was Anupama Satkunaraja, and lived in Tropical. If Helen had the opportunity to visit that segment, Anu asked that she look them up. Helen said that she would try.

"Ready for more?" Alison asked, and Helen had to admit she was tired. Alison put her arm around Helen. It was still early afternoon, ship's time, but the experiences had been emotionally exhausting. Helen explained to Alison that physically she was fine; it was just mentally that she was overloaded. "I understand," said Alison softly. "Most of the people I take around don't have the imagination to feel exhausted," she added. "Well, we have the choice of resting for a while in the medical center, or down in tropical. Which one would you prefer?"

"You know Anu, the girl who was showing me around?" Alison nodded. "Well, she said her parents were on Tropical, and she said they'd like to meet us. Honestly, I'd like to meet _them!_ "

"Would you? Come along, then," said Allie, and having spoken into her phone for a minute, she ushered Helen out into the spine of the ship, and then down the radial elevator into Tropical Segment.

## Tropical Segment

Helen knew the minute they opened the elevator doors that they were in Tropical. The feel of the air, the smells, the sounds, they were all reminiscent of the time she had spent in India. She knew that the segment was shared by a variety of types, including African, Asian, and even European folk who simply preferred the tropics, but somehow it was India that the sounds and smelled evoked.

The streets were teeming with people, especially young people. They wore school uniforms, many of them, navy shorts and skirts, and white cotton shirts. "They go to school year round," Allie remarked. "Let's first find a place to rest, and when you've had a nap, we can go exploring."

There was an official room kept for engineers on duty, and Allie took Helen there. They put away their packs, and after they had showered, Helen got into bed and fell asleep at once.

Sunil sat at the window of the little diner, still dazed. Only minutes before he had seen the most beautiful face on any woman. She had been tall, long-legged and blonde, with tightly curling, braided shoulder-length hair and large hazel eyes. She had looked confused and tired, but there was something about her that had grabbed him. She looked incredibly familiar—the hair, especially; _where_ had he seen that hair before? Sunil had been so absorbed in the tall blonde that he had almost completely missed the handsome redheaded woman who had studied him with amused and interest as they strode by him.

In twenty-five years Sunil had acquired a fine taste for beautiful women. His mother had been—and still was—a beauty, as were his sisters. He wasn't particularly attracted to blonde western women; somehow they seemed more like friends, colleagues. He had lots of girl pals, people he could no more think about _as women_ as the dozens of men he knew and hung out with. They were handsome in their own way, but it was as though they were a different species. Many of his friends thought white girls delicious. And white girls were more likely to be favorably disposed towards a single night of sex than any tropical girl. So many of Sunil's friends had advised him to look in the places where white girls gathered for his initiation into the joys of sex.

He finished his tea, and headed out towards his workplace. He had taken a long lunch break for the first time in months; usually he ate at work. Sunil worked in electrical engineering. It was his team—of which he was the most junior member—that planned the circuitry for new construction projects. The extension project had kept them busy for most of a year, designing the circuits that would be embedded in the structural members of the extensions to the main beam of the ship as it was lengthened. Now production was underway, fifty meters of length had been added every month, and they were working on the rest of the new segment.

Seated at his desk, high above the floor level of the segment, Sunil picked up his sketchpad, spent a few seconds getting re-oriented on what he had been doing. He was still mastering the art of breaking out of traditional ways of looking at things. Some of the fellows he worked with could stare at a problem and plunk down an idea that simply seemed to come out of nowhere. It was like magic; a design that did everything it was supposed to, but looked nothing like its predecessors. Sunil sighed. If there was one thing he longed for—other than to get laid, of course—it was to invent a revolutionary new way of doing something that had been done for centuries in some inefficient way, something that _no one_ had been able to improve.

There was a stir somewhere behind him, and he heard hushed voices, and among them a clear contralto, pitched low, but with confidence and authority. He heard the words 'jacks,' and knew that it was about the extension project.

"We've started on the paneling, Ma'am," Sunil heard his team leader saying. "In fact Sunil is working on it right now."

Sunil stumbled out of his cubicle and pulled himself cautiously towards the voices. Tethered near the water cooler, surrounded by a few dozen men and women, he saw an older woman, in her fifties, he guessed, with greying red hair pulled back and tied at the neck. (If he had noticed her while he was seated in the diner, he might have recognized her.) She wore a sweater over her regulation stretch pants, and a belt to which were clipped the paraphernalia of an engineer. She was holding court with relaxed ease, and he wondered who she was. Then he recognized with surprise the features of the Chief of Engineering. The photo on their office wall was about twenty years out of date, but it was the same face. She was smiling at him as he hauled his way towards them.

"This is Sunil," his team leader said, and she held out her hand to Sunil, who shook it nervously. She questioned him on the panel, and the project in general (the others pretended they didn't know anything about it), and thanked him, unhitched her tether, took leave of them all, and left.

"What's the big idea, you jerks? Why do _I_ get to answer the boss about the project?"

They stared at him blankly.

"Didn't you want that?"

"No!"

The creeps. They must have thought he appreciated being put on the hot spot. He didn't talk to them for the rest of the day. He _did_ tend to harbor a grudge, he admitted to himself, but he was too furious to talk to anyone, even when sweet little Mihiri came by. She was just an intern, and they must have sent her to talk him out of his grump, but it didn't work. Hah.

Helen woke around three, with a slight headache. She had slept only lightly, constantly disturbed by the unfamiliar sounds and smells. It wasn't noisy, exactly, but there was a constant dull roar of sound. Finally Helen put her finger on it: she could hear _street hawkers._ How was that possible, in a currency-free society? It was a characteristic sound she had heard often in India, a sound that must have been common around the world, until certain parts grew too civilized for it. Dowland had written a funny part-song about the criers of London, but where were they now?

Seated alone in the little hostel room, Helen took out her computer, and began to write. 'I'm here, alone in a little hostelry,' she wrote, 'and I hear street hawkers outside. I have to find out what they are selling, and how their customers pay for whatever it is. It is warm, about seventy, and humid, also about seventy percent. The people are very diverse, mostly of Indian type, with lots of Africans and Orientals mixed in. There seemed to be a lot of Scandinavians, too. I wonder what they're doing here?

'A Chinese girl just knocked on the door and smiled sweetly! She wanted to know if there was anything I needed, and I asked for a milkshake. The idea just popped into my head, I thought, I haven't had a milkshake in a long while! And it's going to be sugar-free. If they don't have diabetes on the ship, how come they have sugar-free milkshakes?'

Alison returned a little later, to find Helen busily typing at her computer, and sipping a milkshake.

"Catching up on work?" she asked pleasantly.

"No, just a sort of journal about what I've seen so far," Helen said smiling.

"I thought you'd be out, exploring," Alison said with a laugh. Helen said she had waited for Alison. She put on her shorts and T-shirt, and declared she was ready. Alison studied her companion surreptitiously as they headed out. Helen had a certain grace, an appearance that was enhanced by light blonde fur all over her body, like a young child. She was a very physical girl, happy to return a hug or a touch, like Cass had been. She seemed to have a sense for a person, whether they could be touched, or whether they should be left alone. She was always approachable and warm, and she could do that without touching, if she had to.

Helen's limbs had a touch of the Nordic in them, but her oval face and curly hair was not typically Norwegian or Swedish, as her name suggested. Helen, too, sounded very American, and Alison concluded that Helen's ancestry must be a mix of types, probably including French and German, maybe Danish; who knew? American Indian?

When they got out into the bustle of the little urban center, Helen became interested in the street vendors. "What are they selling?" she wanted to know. "And what do they get paid with?"

"Oh, trinkets," Alison said.

They watched one vendor, a little white boy who might have been German or Italian, selling wooden bowls clearly made by Dropouts somewhere—possibly even Emil—in exchange for little wooden elephants, metal spoons, leather goods, and so on. Most of the buyers were tourists, like themselves, who seemed to have brought things to trade.

"If you want to do something like that," Alison said, "you bring something valuable, like a china plate, and trade it for a dozen elephants. Then you buy what you want with the elephants."

"So the elephants are like money!"

Alison shrugged and grinned. "If you like!" Helen had to grin back. Alison looked happy and mischievous, squinting against the bright sun. The illumination in this segment was very bright and harsh, though it cycled through an intensity pattern to simulate clouds.

Helen sighed. She had brought very little with her; if she had known, she could have brought stuff to trade. Apparently, any original Earth artifact was trade-able. But she had worn only ship-issue clothing, and left her Earth clothes behind with Daisy. Her Earth clothes were probably worth a ton of little elephants, she thought.

It was getting towards sundown. Unlike on Earth, sundown simply meant that the light dimmed through the red end of the spectrum, but still came from straight above. The vendors she saw now, as they headed towards the center of the business district—which included the areas in which the offices were located, as well as the large stores for all sorts of supplies—the vendors were a different type. These handed out fliers, brochures, and urged all the visitors to various specialty boutiques along the walkway to the elevator. These had been there all along, but Helen had simply not noticed them. Now she saw merchandise for sale that she had never hoped to see on board ship: exotic fabrics, ancient clothing, lovingly preserved for decades, artifacts brought along with pioneers, now dead.

"Look," Helen said, excitedly, "a wedding saree!"

Alison laughed. "Are you sure?" Helen nodded, wide-eyed. It was a lovely piece of fabric, deep red with detailed gold thread patterns woven in, folded carefully to display the gold work. Alison gave it a casual glance and walked on, turning to wait for Helen. "You find all sorts of things if you look long enough," she said. She hoped that Helen's interest hadn't been noted by the shopkeeper.

Helen tore herself away and hurried after Alison.

"That's a traditional wedding-dress in some parts of India," she told Alison. "Why would anyone _sell_ an heirloom like that?"

"Why would they _keep_ it?" countered Alison, puzzled. "What do you do with it?"

"You wrap it around you," Helen said, describing it with her hands. She had expressive hands, when she chose to use them, though she was perfectly articulate without them. "There are these little pleats you make, and it's, oh, so wonderfully graceful! Any girl looks like a princess in one!" She clasped her hands to her breast and closed her eyes, recalling something from her days on Earth. Alison felt her stomach burn, to think that the experiences of this woman were far beyond anything Alison could know. "I have one back in the apartment!" Helen whispered. "I had to bring it on board. How could I leave it behind?"

Alison blinked. Clearly, what Helen was excited about was no mere tourist experience. She was so agitated, her breathing was ragged, and her color was high. Luckily for them, Helen saw a pretty Indian child inside one of the stores, helping what appeared to be her grandmother. She gave Helen a brilliant smile, and instantly Helen had forgotten whatever had preoccupied her. She crossed over to the store and spoke awkwardly to the child. She couldn't have been more than seven.

The girl's eyes widened, and she lisped something back to Helen in a language Alison recognized as Hindi, a common language of India.

"She says her name is Kumari," Helen translated. "It might be just a pet-name," she added. "Do you speak English, Kumari?" The little girl nodded shyly. "My name is Helen!"

The girl giggled and fled, calling out to her grandmother, who leaned out to smile a greeting. Helen's eyes widened. She called to the girl again, and she stopped in her tracks, and chattered back at Helen. Soon she, Helen, and the old dame were talking a mile a minute.

It was with difficulty Alison was able to conduct Helen away. As far as she could discover, Helen had learned that they were from a certain part of India that she was familiar with, and when she had spoken their own language they had been pleased. Helen's excitement was harder to understand. All Alison could get out of her was that Helen had been there, and knew the language. Had she lived there? Helen said, no, not very long. "I'll tell you sometime," Helen said, realizing that Alison was full of questions.

Unlike Temperate, the Tropical segment teemed with people. Further down the road, they came to an open field where scores of kids were playing all sorts of games, many of which Helen seemed to recognize. There were white, brown, black and yellow kids, all playing games not known in Temperate. Alison listened with interest as Helen identified games the kids were playing. "I've seen _that_ one played in Brazil," she would say, or "That's an Australian game!" Many of the games were of Chinese or Indian origin, not surprisingly.

They followed signs to a supermarket hidden away off the road. It was filled with women, bartering, selecting produce, bringing produce in, trying to keep little children in check, or just talking. There were shelves of videos, at which kids in their late teens were browsing with great intensity. Helen smiled to herself, and Alison assumed it was not an unfamiliar sight.

"I just love this place," Helen said, her eyes shining.

"Why, is it the food, the kids, the music—what attracts you?" Alison asked, curious.

"Just—everything," Helen said. She filled her eyes with the scene around her, and finally turned to Alison with a smile that surprised her with its sadness. Alison knew that, while everyone on board ship realized that Helen's memories of Earth were precious things that they could never really share, Helen had lost far more when she came on the voyage than most of the pioneers. Alison's mother had told her stories of life in Ireland, and later in the US, but she had by no means had the breadth of experience Helen had enjoyed. Helen had been on every continent, learned dozens of languages. She had been incredibly wealthy, and could have afforded to travel more than most. Still, it was strange to be faced with Helen's nostalgia. Alison longed for the old days, with her parents, all the old-timers who had been such a large part of Alison's childhood. This girl was not much older than thirty—half Alison's age—but she seemed so upset to have lost her youth! Alison couldn't understand why Helen's sadness tugged at her heart. She envied and somewhat resented Helen's ability to—however inadvertently—force a kind of empathy in others.

"There's a long story I have to tell you some day," Helen said, looking into Alison's eyes, as if she could read her very thoughts. "If I never tell anyone, at least I think _you_ will understand," she said softly.

The waitress came back, and got to talking with Helen. Soon she disappeared, and came back with another girl. Before she knew it, Helen had been whisked off to meet more girls. Alison wondered whether they knew what they were doing. Helen had changed from being the professor of the Collegium into a silly teenager chatting with a bunch of girls, laughing over clothes, almost a whole different person. Eventually they began what appeared to be trading phone numbers. Helen took her leave, and dragged herself back to their table. "Perhaps we should get a move on," Helen said awkwardly, aware that she had left Alison alone for a little too long.

"Maybe you would like to go out on the town on your own," Alison suggested, her eyes twinkling. Perhaps what hadn't worked in their segment might work here. Daisy had intimated that Helen was a bomb waiting to explode—her relationship with Lucy had been noted by Alison, but Daisy declared that they had cooled off, leaving Helen with no one. The implication was that Daisy herself had not taken that role. So if Helen got lucky, as the saying went, it was better for everyone.

"What about that young lady who invited you over to meet her parents?"

"Oh. Maybe I should call, huh?"

Helen took out the number, and called. The phone was picked up immediately, and Helen told them she had met their daughter at the Observatory. They seemed to know what Helen was talking about, and apparently invited her to a meal, which Helen declined, looking at Alison. Alison was grateful; she could not manage spicy food, and Indian food meant spicy food to her. Helen promised to come by around 9. She took directions.

"All right," Alison said, as they hurried back to the hostelry. "Let's pick up something nice to wear, and I'll be ready for you around eight-fifty."

"Something nice to wear? But I don't want to have to haul it around with us, Allie."

"You can recycle it, or have it sent back to Daisy; you don't have to lug it around."

Alison talked Helen into obtaining a really sexy dress. It was low cut, with a slit down the side, and fit Helen like a glove. As Helen put it on back in the hostelry, they were both aware of the tension that was building up. Each of them wanted to say something to put the other at ease, but nothing suitable seemed to occur to either one. In the end, Helen blew Alison a kiss at the door, and said softly that she was looking forward to that evening. What did she mean, Alison wondered.

Helen had put up her hair, and felt like a tigress on the prowl. Her skin felt too tight for her body, and all the colors seemed more intense than they should be at twilight. She went into town, and followed a stream of young folk, who seemed to be headed for the night life. Sure enough, she saw a room packed with people, with sounds of dancing leaking out through the doors and windows. Soon she was dancing, feeling herself getting more and more wound up. Suddenly, she made eye contact with a boy, a young fellow who couldn't have been more than twenty-five.

Like magic he was next to her, talking. Did she want to dance? She said yes. They were on the floor, and she was seducing him brazenly. With every means at her disposal—except words—she told him she wanted him. She had had one drink, but it had been enough.

"Do-do you want t-to come with me?" he asked. God, he was beautiful. She could feel him hard and ready when they danced.

"Where can we go?" she asked.

"I don't know!" he blurted out.

"I'll find out," Helen muttered. She looked about, and saw a girl she had danced with earlier. She was a sweetheart, and from the way she had talked dirty, Helen knew she could get the information she needed. She turned to the boy and told him she would be back. He looked uncertain, but she convinced him to wait where he was.

"Pattie!" Helen said breathlessly to her new friend. "Listen, I have a question!"

"Hi, sweetie! What's the matter?"

"I've got a guy. Where can I take him for—you know?—a little peace and quiet?"

"Hohoho!" laughed Pattie, looking about to spot Helen's prize. "Hannigan's. It's a pub right on Market. Upstairs, they have rooms—a couple of elephants . . ."

"Shit!" Helen swore. "I haven't any elephants!"

Pattie giggled, and pulled out two little elephants from her purse. "Here," she said, and gave them to Helen.

"I have seen the place," the boy said. He was so upset, Helen guessed it was his first time. Jesus, she thought, it's a bit late for his first time. He has to be 25 if he's a day. Suddenly they were there. Helen boldly walked forward, with the boy's arm gripped firmly in her left hand, and the elephants in her right. She crossed the dark room, filled with folks doing serious drinking, and headed to the back. A bulky form suddenly stood in her way. Helen held out the elephants, and he smiled with amusement. He pointed up the stairs.

It was a simple, comfortable room. The bed was wide, and not particularly soft. The boy shut the door, and they faced each other.

"It's your first time, isn't it?" Helen asked, her chest tight.

He nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I'm kind of desperate!" She began to undress. The dress was easy to get out of; it was just a sheath, and a tiny G-string underneath. She should let him do it; men liked that, she knew. She turned, and he was taking off his shirt. She managed a smile, and took over the task. "If you don't enjoy this," she said, looking into his eyes, "it's probably my fault!"

He laughed, and she frowned. She hadn't meant it as a joke.

She had his clothes off quickly, and led him to the bed. She tried to make love to him the way men liked, but her control snapped. She pushed him down, and after a rather peremptory preamble, mounted him, and rode him hard. Then she kissed him hard, and after she had her climax, tried to make up for her rough treatment. She could hardly bear to look into his eyes, and when she did, it was heartbreaking. The more she kissed him, the more heartbreaking it was.

She lay spent against his chest, and whispered, "I'm sorry! I'm usually a lot better!"

"I wouldn't know," he said, smiling awkwardly. "It was wonderful!"

Helen smiled. "What's your name?" she asked softly.

"Sunil," he said.

"Sunil," she repeated it, and he was surprised at her pronunciation. He was beautiful, and she reveled in the feel of his skin. His hands were gentle on her back and her hair.

"Wait here," she said gently, and sliding off him carefully, she hurried to the sink. She cleaned herself off, and brought a moist towel back with her, and tended to him. He was so young and innocent, she felt like an older sister. He blushed furiously, and she grinned at his embarrassment.

"Thank you," she told him, smiling. He only stared back, bemused, shaking his head.

Helen dressed quickly, looking away, and when she was done, she saw that he was just tucking in his shirt. Helen quickly said she had to run, and leaving him in the room alone with a quick parting hug, she hurried out of the bar, and to the hostel. It was still well before eight.

"I'm back!" she called, coming through the door. She beamed at Alison, and breathlessly told her it had gone like clockwork. "I think he was a virgin," she confessed, not meeting Alison's eyes. Alison only laughed, saying he'd get over it. "Let's go eat, I'm starving!" said Helen.

"I'm not surprised!" Alison laughed. "That must have been hungry work!"

"Please don't," Helen chided her, as they set out once more, with Helen in shorts again. A quick meal later they stepped out into the balmy air, and headed out to the housing development in which Helen's new friend Anu lived with her family.

They rang a very traditional doorbell, and the door was opened by a middle-aged Indian gentleman in glasses. His hair was touched with grey, but he looked youthful, and his smile was cheerful. He welcomed them in and shook hands with the two women. A lovely Indian lady and two young girls came out, one of whom was Anu. Alison was not surprised to recognize the friend of her youth, Sita Chawla.

After everyone had greeted everyone else, they sat down and began to talk. It started out rather awkwardly, until Helen let slip that she had visited their country. They were from a different region, and so Helen was not able to speak their language fluently, but she knew some Hindi, of course, which was what they spoke most of the time, apparently.

"Helen has studied _Bharatanatyam_ , father!" Anu said, her eyes wide. "Can you believe it?"

"Is it true?"

"Yes," Helen said seriously. "I love to dance, and . . . after I learned to sing, I learned to dance. I play the violin, you see."

"Oh, of course," Anu's mother said, nodding. "We were at your recital!" Helen acknowledged that with a smile and a nod. "We have a violin," she continued, and Anu's sister hurried off at a nod from her father. "Nobody plays anymore! My mother played, and _his_ father, a little, but now . . ."

Helen's eyes popped wide. "Is it common to be able to play the violin among your people?"

"I would say _not uncommon,_ " said Anu's father. "It is certainly a dying art. Actually, Sita here plays a little, but she is very shy."

"I do _not_ play," the old girl insisted with a blush.

The violin was a beautiful instrument, gut-strung, and the bow was equally fine. Helen took them carefully, and asked whether she should play. They agreed vigorously, and Helen sat on the floor with a grin. Anu's mother fetched a piece of fabric which she offered Helen with a smile, indicating that she might cover her legs with it if she wished.

To the amazement of them all, Helen played the violin Indian style, with the bow held underhand, and played a well-loved piece, often used for dancing. Afterwards she beamed at them, as they applauded her with enthusiasm. Then she played another, and another, utterly charming them. The two girls, particularly, had been delighted with Helen, watching her hands with fascination.

Soon the conversation went into clothes and cooking and all sorts of things that Alison could not follow or wasn't interested in. But Helen went into the house with the women, leaving Alison talking to the old gentleman. In short order he had found out what interested Alison, and when Helen finally came out, they were talking like old friends.

"This lady is Sunil's chief! She's the chief of engineering!" exclaimed the gentleman. Helen barely heard the name he mentioned, but she remembered thinking that there must be lots of Sunils in the segment. After a little more conversation, Alison and Helen looked at each other. It was past ten, and time to go.

They rose, all together, and as they stood at the entrance taking their leave, they saw a figure slowly walking up the path, head bent. Helen recognized the clothes before she recognized the face.

"It's our son, Sunil," his mother said, sounding a little concerned. "I was hoping you would stay long enough to meet him."

Anu ran out to her brother and put her arms around him, asking him something in an undertone. He murmured something back. He walked up until he was barely in the circle of light around the front entrance. He smiled round at them, and said Hello. Helen did her best to smile, though she could feel the muscles on her face freezing in position. The introductions were performed, and Helen and Sunil managed to pretend that they were meeting for the first time.

Alison, of course, had met him that afternoon. They exchanged a few words, and Sunil excused himself and hurried into the house.

"Something has happened," Anu said under her breath.

"Whatever it is, it can wait," said her mother.

"Probably girl trouble," said the father, with a smile. His wife reproached him gently for embarrassing his son before strangers. Helen was thankful for the half-light, which made it difficult for them to see her red face.

"Phew," Helen said, as they walked back to the hostelry in the near-dark.

"What was _that_ all about, I wonder," murmured Alison to herself.

"You'll never guess," said Helen ominously.

Alison gasped.

"Don't tell me. Don't tell me!" she said, in a soft voice.

"Oh yes," said Helen, with a slight shiver. "How could I know? I thought I'd never see him again! God, I'm so _stupid._ "

Alison touched her arm consolingly, and Helen grabbed her hand, and held it tight.

After a restful night, notwithstanding the little adventure of the evening before, Alison and Helen packed their things and headed out.

"There is transport, underground," Alison said, "but we can easily walk it across the segment."

"Transport?"

"Yes, little cars that go along tubes. Only the aged and sick use them," Alison said, "and security, during an emergency."

"Oh."

They walked briskly, and soon found themselves in a really thick jungle, which gave way to something very like a rain forest. Alison told her that it stretched around the segment in a band, very like the Temperate woods. It had to do with rotational stability; if they wanted just a block of forest on the cylinder, then a counterweight would have to be fastened at the diametrically opposite point. With a band of trees going all the way round, no counterweight was needed.

Here and there, among the trees, there were homes, some of them looking like Dropout campsites. Helen pointed one out, and said she was sure it had to be a Dropout campsite. It was barely visible between the trees a good distance away. "I'd like to go say hi," Helen said, and impulsively headed out towards it.

"Helen," called Alison, "do you know what you're doing?"

"I think so," Helen said. She stepped off the path, and within a few moments was accosted by a pair of girls. Their skins were almost pure black, though they were dressed in colorful skirts and tops that could have been from anywhere.

"Where are you going?" they asked, in ordinary English.

"I'm from Temperate, from Camp Severin. I just wanted to say Hi."

"Are you really?"

"Well," said Helen, reluctant to twist the truth, "I lived there for a while, but I've gone back to . . ."

"Do you know the girl that cooks there?"

"Well, _I_ cooked there for quite a while," Helen said doubtfully.

Their eyes brightened. "So _you're_ the one! Come on, it's all right! Ask your friend to come, too!"

"Allie, you can come!" Helen said, happily.

It was a far smaller camp (but of course, Alison didn't know that). Most of the adults were out, doing various things. Helen knew that there had been a truce between the Dropouts and the ship about harvesting wood. They were allowed a few trees a year; any more and they would be chased out of the forest. They were mostly dark-skinned folk, with a few whites scattered among them. They were all very healthy, good-looking people.

After Helen got comfortable with them, she asked whether she might teach the little ones a song. "That's what I've been doing over at Severin," she explained. They were delighted with her, and the adults and children, all of them learned the songs, and sang along. They particularly loved responsive songs, where she sang one line, and they sang it after her, and then proceeded to chain all the previous lines together until they had the whole song.

"Whoo! That was great fun," said the big gal who was a kind of spokesman for them. "You should move over here, you know!" Helen laughed, and said she would consider coming to visit for a while.

They insisted that Helen and Alison stay for lunch, which was a major meal for them. Alison tasted it anxiously, but found that it was not spicy in the way she had feared. They had heard of Helen as the peculiar girl who had suddenly shown up and started cooking for Severin Camp, but little other than that. They were extremely friendly, and wanted to shower Helen with gifts, but she told them they were traveling light, but would have loved to accept the gifts.

"Oh, we'll send them to you," they promised. They explained that there were a couple of young fellows who handled that kind of thing. "We're not as anti-ship as we used to be," said one of the women, "but don't tell anyone _I_ said that!" Half of the other laughed, while the other half glared at her. A number of them walked Helen and Alison back to the road and sent them on their way with good wishes and waves and smiles.

As they kept walking though the deep forest, it became jungle once again, and then just scrub. There were still homes scattered everywhere, but now these were white folk. Many of them came out to greet the two women, speaking in English, German, and Russian. Helen replied to all of them with various degrees of fluency, becoming once again the gracious and charming diplomat. Alison was struck by her confidence and bearing; it was as though she could switch it on when necessary.

Behind the smoothness there was genuine interest. She always took time to speak with children and young adults, having first greeted the older folk. Alison herself remembered having been more sociable in her youth, when she toured the ship from one end to the other. Of late, she had tended to watch and listen more than chat, and avoid people more than engage them.

What she was noticing was that there was widespread boredom, and Helen seemed to be a breath of fresh air wherever she went. If she had only brought her guitar, Alison thought to herself, she would have been a veritable pied piper.

"They're Norwegian," Helen reported, coming back to Alison, who had sat on a roadside bench, instead of coming out with Helen to talk to the people on one stop. "That's one language I never got the hang of. My dad never taught me, and my mother didn't speak it."

"I had always wondered what ethnicity they were," Alison said frankly.

"My father was born of Norwegian parents," she said. "My mother was half Swedish, half Finnish."

"Really? Can you speak Finnish?"

Helen smiled. "I'm afraid not," she admitted. "I'd love to learn, though. I've never visited Finland, though I've always wanted to!" She shook her head. "I had made plans for a quick visit just before—you know?" Alison didn't, but she nodded. "But," Helen continued, "it didn't work out . . . something came up, and I had to cancel. I had bought the tickets, and everything."

After a while, Alison asked Helen whether she would like to talk about it. Helen looked right at her, into her eyes, and then dropped her gaze. "Yes," she said in a low voice that seemed to thrum with passion. "I want to, very much. But . . . I have to get ready, think about it. I don't want it to come out, like dishwater from a sink." Alison was taken aback. It was one thing to be told that Helen did not mind telling her, but quite another to be told that she was waiting to do it. She glanced at Helen, to find her looking at her earnestly, with such a look of sadness that it made Alison very sorry. She hated that she could not sympathize with Helen completely.

The land turned to desert, and Helen wondered what use there was to have desert on the ship, and she asked Alison.

"I don't know, exactly," Alison admitted. "There's a little vegetation, a date palm here and there, other things like that. Mostly, it must have been so that some of the pioneer types would feel at home. There are some Bedouin folks on the ship, you know."

After a long walk, they came upon the Bedouin in a little oasis almost at the clearly conical wall. It was devoid of the many floors of storage structures that there were in Temperate.

The people hailed Helen and Alison in their language, and then in English.

"Hello! How are you?"

"Hello yourself!" Helen called back cheerfully.

"Where are you going?" asked the young man who had called out, a handsome fellow in sunglasses. Alison resisted putting on a sour face. She wondered whether Helen would decide she needed more male flesh to cool her passion.

"We're just touring the segment," Helen said. "We're on our way to Ocean!"

"Oh, yes, yes," said the young man. As he came closer, they saw he was hardly twenty. "You want to come in, and have a drink?"

Helen looked at Alison.

"Sure," said Alison, "why not?"

"Hi, I'm Helen Nordstrom," Helen said, "and you are . . .?"

He gave his name as Yusuf, and Alison introduced herself. They went into the home which looked quite modest from the outside, but turned out to be quite spacious and luxurious. Yusuf had a pretty sister, her skin so white that it was safe to say she must never leave the house. She was in complete charge inside the house, and brought out sweets and soft drinks for the women. She spoke perfect English, and she said that she had qualified to be a teacher, but hated to leave the house.

"I'm kind of a Dropout," she admitted. "Not fanatical, but—all I want is to marry and have a family, that's all! So, what can I say? It's not going to happen unless I move into town, and I'm too unmotivated to move into town. It's hopeless!"

"Why do you need town? We have town right here!"

"Oh, be quiet," she scolded him. "That's the other thing. This big baby needs me to keep house," she explained to them.

Helen found herself trying to flirt with the girl in spite of herself. A glance at Allie made it clear that _that_ behavior was not acceptable. Helen wondered what Alison's agenda was. _She just doesn't really like me,_ she thought to herself. She felt depressed. It seemed important to her that Alison should like her. It wasn't a wonder that Alison should think she was a slut; thinking over her actions of the previous day, it was pretty clear that they must have seemed crude and selfish. While Alison and the girl—Fatimah—talked about various things across her, Helen found herself sighing with remorse.

"What's the matter?" Fatimah demanded. Helen mumbled something unintelligible. It was crazy, the way she felt euphoric one moment, and then down in the dumps the next.

There were other families living in the same building, and Helen visited them with Fatimah and Alison, while Yusuf politely declined. "He's supposed to be an Engineering student," Fatimah told them. "He studies and studies, but he'd rather be gambling," she said.

"What do people gamble for?" Helen asked, curious.

"What else? Elephants, discs, gold . . ."

"Discs?"

"I'll show you," Fatimah promised.

The other families had little children, and Helen immediately perked up. They were delightful, like little puppies, and Helen immediately picked up a couple of them who squealed in excitement. They had the most charming smiles, and were very affectionate, and Helen could hardly bear to part with them.

"These discs are new," Fatimah said, showing Helen a stack of five discs. To Helen's surprise, the top three were _her_ discs, playing the Italian Concerto, singing folk songs with her guitar, and playing the solo violin. "Have you heard them?"

Helen said no, she hadn't, with a straight face, and Fatimah insisted on playing the solo violin disc for them. They had an excellent music system. "This is Johann Sebastian Bach," Fatimah intoned. "He is the _best_ of American music. The absolute best!"

"I see!" Helen said, with a warning glance at Alison. "And where did you get the discs?"

"Yusuf wins them at the casino! I told you!"

It felt very strange to be the creator of gambling rewards.

After a pleasant visit, the Helen and Alison headed out to the wall, and up the transport to the axis. The last several hundred feet were thickly insulated, because the artificial sun was a fierce heat source, as well as a source of light.

A short trip along the axis access ways, in weightless conditions, and they arrived at the down tube in Ocean.

## Ocean Segment

"I should warn you," Alison said, as they strapped in. "I know you've been here before, but still, it's rather disconcerting. There's a culture of promiscuity here. It's shocking for some, but others get pretty jaded. The beaches, especially, tend to be places where . . ."

"A lot of outdoor sex goes on." They began to descend.

"Exactly."

They rode in silence for a while.

"I'm not a hopeless slut, you know, Alison. In spite of appearances, I don't have sex with just anyone."

Alison felt a bit of remorse. But, she thought, Helen really did ask for it, sometimes.

"I know very little about you, Helen. I have no opinions that can't be changed. I'm not a prude, and I've had plenty of sex in my life. I understand that you need a certain amount of sex—everybody does."

"But you think it was wrong I had sex with Sunil last night."

Alison shook her head. "I never said so. Don't put words in my mouth."

Helen subsided then. She was fuming, but Alison couldn't think what else to say. She could not help think that it had been rather beautifully ironic that Helen's one-afternoon-stand had turned up to ruin her little after-dinner party.

"So what do you do here? Join in the fun?"

Alison sighed. Helen looked sharply at her. "When I was younger," she said. She looked down at Helen, meeting her eyes. "I didn't say you should abstain, dear; I only said it was a different culture."

The lift landed them, of course, in the opposite side of Ocean to which Helen was accustomed. Here, in fact, there was no open water, only widely-spaced buildings, with tropical vegetation—fruit trees, mostly—between them. The lift landing opened out to a concourse of shopping and entertainment establishments, which seemed to be just beginning to attract the after-work crowd. Again, unlike Temperate, there was a glorious mixture of types, all colors, shades and heights. Unlike the youngsters who frequented the beach near the Purple Pumpkin, these were all ages, and mostly couples. They all had beautiful, glowing skin, and showed a lot of it. Everywhere she looked, Helen drew warm smiles.

"They seem happy," Helen murmured, as Alison led the way towards the local hostelry.

"They do seem to be," Alison agreed. She laughed softly. "Dozens of people from Temperate decide to come here and settle down, for that reason," she added, "but a lot of them come back, after a while!" She shook her head. "I guess you have to have the right temperament to live out here."

Helen snorted. "You probably can't get much work done."

Alison frowned thoughtfully. "I haven't noticed that, actually; they're fairly productive. I think most temperate folk find them hard to get along with. A little too easygoing."

They arrived at an establishment that looked like a small hotel. With just a few hundred people on board the entire ship, it was not surprising that a twenty-room hotel would be ample at any locality. But this one was a lot bigger. If there was a currency economy, business would be booming, Helen thought to herself.

They checked in, went into their rooms to put things away and clean up. They had taken separate rooms, at Alison's suggestion. They came back out, and looked for a suitable place to eat. Not surprisingly, the cuisine was eclectic, with a strong Island flavor. As everywhere on the ship, there was little meat, though there was a synthetic that Helen found quite palatable. They found a table and ordered something like fried pork, and found it excellent. Helen exclaimed that she would move out here just for the food. Alison laughed, and somehow it was all right between them again. Helen looked quickly down at her plate, overwhelmed with gratitude for that fact. Suddenly, she missed the children, and Daisy. She wondered whether Sissy would be out at the Pumpkin.

They ate in companiable silence for a while, and Alison asked Helen whether she wanted to call home. Helen nodded, and picking up the phone at the table, called.

"Hello?"

"Lena!"

"Oh, we wondered when you would call!" Lena's voice made Helen almost dizzy with happiness. She heard the girl shouting to the rest of the family that Helen was on the phone. "What are you doing?"

"Having dinner," Helen said, as Alison watched her, smiling softly. "Been keeping out of trouble?"

"Oh no," Lena said, and giggled. She gave a brief report of what she and Summer and Ben had done. They had built a submarine, she claimed, at the playground. Helen could make little sense of her chatter, but promised to come see it when she got back. "When are you coming back?" Lena wanted to know. "I miss you already!"

"Oh silly," said Helen, "it's only been a day!"

" _Two_ days," corrected Lena.

Daisy came on. "How are things going?" she asked. She had a quite unremarkable voice, Helen told herself. But Helen found herself warmed with the sound of it.

"Oh, fine," she said, blushing. It was awkward. They didn't seem to have much to talk about, but they both wanted to talk. They talked of silly, unimportant things. What they had for dinner, whether Helen was eating well, was she getting sleep, etc. Helen reported that Alison was there, and would she like to talk to her.

"Hello, sweetheart," Alison said into the phone, the most endearing thing Helen had heard her say to Daisy. Helen wondered, with a frown, whether her own presence had complicated their relationship. Of course it had. If not for her, those two would have become a lot closer. As it was, Helen had stolen Alison's grandchildren from her. She looked intently at Alison, who had proceeded to talk to Lena and Ben. She had been such a fool. In the back of her mind she had realized that Daisy moving in with her was going to be disruptive, but she hadn't followed up on the thought.

Alison put the phone down, her eyes bright, her smile thoughtful.

"I just realize I have done you a lot of harm," Helen said softly. "I've—well, sort of abducted your family!" She reached out her hand to Alison, palm up.

Alison placed her own hand on Helen's. "It's all right," she said quietly, "you were sick, and your needs are important, too; maybe, in some ways, more than mine."

"I knew you would say that," said Helen, choked with tears. "But it's not right!"

"Daisy needed you, and you needed them," Alison said, firmly. "I can come by any time, and see the kids." Helen shook her head firmly, dabbing at her eyes. She knew enough not to make any wild promises. But she had to talk the matter over with Daisy, and do _something_ as soon as she got back. "Come on," Alison said, getting to her feet. "Let's go out and have a little fun!"

"We might get lucky!" Helen said, smiling.

There was dancing, a much more relaxed affair than at the south beach. Helen was asked to dance by both men and women. It was fascinating; the customs here were just different enough from what she was used to, to keep her off balance. Her dance partners would talk to her while they danced, and thought nothing of leaning forward and kissing her, and paying her a pretty compliment.

There was one long-haired beauty, in particular, who came back to her often. She was slim and lovely, with long, glossy hair that reached down to the edge of her dress. Except for beautiful, dark expressive eyes, her face was rather severe to the point of plainness. But the way she held Helen's hand as they danced, and played with it, and her eyes and her soft lips—Helen found her irresistible. She said her name was Melanie, and she invited Helen out to the verandah for a drink. Soon they were making out like teenagers in the dark, feeling each other's breasts and legs, sighing with pleasure.

"I have to go," she said suddenly, in a whisper. And she was gone. Helen got up, and headed back into the room. She slowly walked around the dance floor, until she saw Alison just finishing a dance with a pretty young blonde. Of course, Helen thought with amusement, it _would_ be a blonde.

"There you are," Alison said, smiling, as she came up to Helen and put her arm around her waist. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, thanks," Helen said, though she felt let down. She caught herself scanning the room for another glimpse of the girl, but she was nowhere to be seen.

They headed out to their rooms, and ended up together in Alison's bed. In the dark, under the sheets, they snuggled together. Helen felt safe and strangely content in Alison's arms.

"Tell me about why you are so sad, sometimes," Alison urged. She was feeling closer to Helen than she had thought possible. The more she got to know Helen, the less unpredictable she was.

"No," Helen said in a soft whisper. "Not tonight. I'm too happy!"

The following morning they were up again early, and after a quick breakfast, they went up the lift again, to access a collar section. In the bright morning light, Helen could see the entire segment clearly, laid out in the inside of a cylinder as she had always known it was. The water started about a third of the way across the two-mile-long segment, and was merely an irregular band of water separating sandy beaches on either side. Even from the beach, Helen thought, it must be possible to see the water rising into the sky, like a tidal wave. She wondered how the Ocies could stand the sight of it.

From the top of the lift, a short distance back towards Tropical along the axis, Alison met up with a few assistants, and they went through a hatch to a circular area. Helen quickly realized that this section had airlocks that led outside. Monitors showed the outside of the ship, the space between the two segments, an enormous beam about fifty feet wide and fifty feet tall, with the tube through which the high-speed lift ran lying nestled in it, as well as the smaller tubes through which they had pulled themselves along the previous afternoon, as well as earlier that very morning.

Alison explained that these airlocks were for service access to outside hatches. The few cameras that were kept on all the time, the telescopes, the communications antennae that now simply listened, no longer with any hope of communicating with Earth.

"Are people out there all the time?" Helen asked.

"These days, quite often," Alison answered. "You know we're expanding the ship, don't you?" Helen nodded. "Every once in a while, a team goes out to do some emplacement."

"Are they going out now?"

"Oh no; well, not for emplacement. These two are going out to repair a relay." As they watched, two of the people with them suited up. Alison kept up a commentary about what they were doing. They stepped into the airlock, and the door shut with rather an ominous sound. Through the porthole Helen could see them waiting for the air to be recycled, after which the outside doors opened. The two workers cautiously transferred their tethers to outside anchors, after which the airlock door slid shut.

They got comfortable at the viewer, and watched the team approach the piece of equipment. It was the most frightened Helen had ever been, since being on the ship. The sight of the two small figures out against the enormous bulk of the ship struck terror into her heart. The slowly whirling star field was as frightening; it made Helen dizzy. Her heart beat faster, and her breath grew ragged. Alison put her hand on Helen's arm. They were developing an acute sense for each other's moods. Helen relaxed a little, but she was very relieved when the two spacewalkers finally returned, doffed their helmets, and breathed sighs of relief.

"What a rush!" said one of them, but Helen could tell she wasn't as thrilled as she appeared. Thrilled, maybe, but definitely relieved to be inside again. Helen wondered that they would let a girl go out on such dangerous duty. But the sexes were more equal here, in some ways.

Helen was shown far more of the ship's operations than most people on the ship. A call came in that the high-speed elevator had been vibrating at a point near Ocean. Alison looked around her little team, her forehead creased in worry. "Vibration?" she asked. "Any of you know anything about this?"

"Mr. Jay is down at the South end," said one of them. They were all young, in their late twenties.

Alison got on the phone with Mr. Jay, and Helen heard him describe the problem and the cure. "Let's run it at low speed for a while. Tell me when you get there; we'll shut it down."

They headed out to the trouble-spot, and Alison nodded to herself. She looked at Helen, who surprised her by saying she had followed the discussion. Essentially, the elevator was often slowed down at Ocean, though the guide rails at Ocean had not been stabilized as heavily as the rails at the two ends. As a result, there were tiny irregularities that made the rails loose, which was felt as vibration inside the cabin. Today, they were going to put in additional stays over about two hundred feet of rail. "Give me one of those things," Helen said, "I can help!"

The engineering team exchanged looks among themselves, clearly keeping straight faces only out of politeness to the stranger. Alison quietly requested one of the things—something like a cross between a rivet-gun and an electric screwdriver—and gave it to Helen.

Though Helen felt insulted at being treated like a novice, she realized that it would be a huge concession to her if she was allowed to do the work. They pulled their way into the elevator tube, where Alison carefully kept Helen far out to the side, in the service area. "Okay," she called out to Mr. Jay, waving at the camera fixed to the side of the shaft. "Yeah, I see you," said Jay. Far away they could hear the elevator, and see it as a dim spot of light coming slowly towards them.

"Let it go by," Helen suggested to Alison. "That way we won't hold it up."

"Good idea," said Alison. "We could take a look at what's happening. It's probably going to be scary, Helen. Strap yourself to the braces, here." She called out to Jay to keep the elevator moving, and he acknowledged.

In spite of how far away it was, the thing hurtled towards them at blinding speed. As it passed, they saw clearly that the farther rail wobbled just a little, and the cabin knocked between the two rails ever so little. Inside the cabin, though, it must have been felt like a huge vibration.

"They report that it's a lot better at low speed," reported Jay over the speaker phone. "Did you see anything, Chief?"

"Yes, very clearly. It's about fifty feet of rail. We're going to do about seventy meters, on all four rails, Jay. Better to be safe."

"You don't have time. How many of you are there? I can see six, and, er, Dr. Nordstrom, I believe?"

"Yes, we'll manage. You get back to work, and send the car back at lowest speed. We'll stay in touch!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Lowest speed. Call us when it leaves."

Alison watched Helen do several fasteners. Helen got it perfect after the second one, and satisfied, she went off to do another section closer to the fault. "You do the extreme part," she told Helen. In other words, Helen was allowed to do the least important section of rail. But that made sense. She worked slowly and carefully. The more perfect were the rails, the less energy the thing would consume. And energy was their main problem.

The ship had projected energy resources for two hundred years; that was all of Helen's lifetime, and then perhaps another sixty years. This meant that within a few years they would have to gradually shut down the energy consuming parts of the ship. They would have to slow down population growth, shut down the warmer segments, shut down the lifts. I will be long dead, Helen told herself. But the horror of the thought remained with Helen. Lena would be alive, and maybe her children. Ben would be alive. And Lucy's baby. Helen rested a moment, waiting until her hands were steady again. Tightening fasteners in weightless conditions was not easy.

She was now a good way towards the middle of the section. She saw that the girl who had gone off on the spacewalk had circled above her, and was inspecting Helen's work. She smiled at Helen and gave her an OK signal, which was, Helen had learned, to make a circle with thumb and index finger. Helen rolled her eyes, and the girl laughed. Far away, they heard the elevator. It was coming at them at quite a clip. But they were done early.

"Chief?" came the call from the speaker phone.

"Yeah, we see it. Who is this?"

"This is Kylie. Two minutes to ETA, we estimate, Chief."

"It'll get here a lot sooner, I think," Alison said, with a wry tone. "Tell them to put on the speed. We're ready for it. We'll get out of the way right now."

They couldn't see the elevator car speed up, but as it whizzed by it was certainly going much faster than it had the last time. The crew hooted in pleasure as it hugged the rails securely. Kylie reported that there had been no vibrations at all.

Helen was glad to get out of the elevator tube. It was a scary place, with that think whizzing back and forth. There was something friendly about the elevator car; its rounded contours seemed almost to smile at them. But it was a blind, unseeing thing, and anyone caught in its way would be killed instantly.

Alison talked a while with her team of young engineers, and sent them on their way. A few of them had spoken to Helen briefly, and she waved farewell to them now. They were still somewhat in awe of her, as a sleeper. They evidently thought Alison had erred in judgment to bring such a valuable person in harm's way, but they didn't dare express that openly. They headed off down the tube, looking back at Helen and Alison until they arrived at the hatch, and went through.

"Well," said Alison, "I hope you enjoyed the bit of excitement there!"

Helen grinned and shrugged. Alison studied Helen intently, to see if she was suffering discomfort in the zero-gravity environment. "Feel okay?"

Helen frowned in puzzlement. "Sure, why?"

"Not feeling funny in your stomach? No inner-ear problems?"

Helen's eyes widened a fraction. Alison was amused; she had evidently forgotten that she was indeed in zero-g. "I feel fine, but now I'm noticing little things . . ."

"That's normal," said Alison, airily. "If there was to be trouble, we would have known a lot sooner." Helen nodded, pleased with herself. She was perfectly well adjusted to the environment. Any corrections to her position were made with small, light touches, in precisely the way it was almost impossible to teach young workers to do. She's a dancer, Alison thought to herself, remembering watching Helen the previous night. A lot of them had watched the two women dance. The Ocie girl had been incredible, but Helen had been sheer poetry. Some of the old dances they had danced had been forgotten by most ship folk. The tendency was to dance old traditional dances, or simply shake in one spot. The dances Helen and the Ocie girl had done were incredibly sexier.

"What's next on the agenda?" Helen asked. Just then Alison's phone buzzed.

## Much Excitement

As Alison talked into the phone, Helen wondered that they used old-fashioned phone units similar to the ones she had used on Earth. She had imagined space-suited figures with head-sets, all in contact with each other at all times. But for whatever reason, they still used hand-held units. The circuitry was infinitely more efficient. It was simpler and more sophisticated at the same time. There was a sequence of levels of communication, in order of urgency. The lowest was to call someone on his or her registered phone. You registered at which phone you were to be contacted, which might actually be a set, back in your home, in which case of course you would not get the call. One level further up would be a direct announcement to your phone, in which it was used as an old-fashioned speaker-phone. This was the mode in which Mr. Jay was calling Alison. Next up would be a traced call, to the phone nearest to you. The ship had rudimentary means of tracing most people, in terms of where they had been, what services they had used most recently, and their logged daily itineraries, if any. At the next level, the surveillance instruments were used to find you discreetly, and calls routed to the nearest manned phone, usually a receptionist, or the household phone where you were observed to be. Things rarely got to this point unless you had approved it beforehand.

Alison, for instance, on this tour, was accessible at every level, by any of her staff. Then, in emergencies, there were public address systems that called for you. There were tiny speakers, hidden all over the place. Helen had not heard them used at all.

Alison turned to Helen, suppressing obvious excitement. Her eyes glowed.

"Come on, hurry," she said, beckoning. "Something interesting has come up!"

"What?" But Alison was flying away like a bird, and all Helen could do was to follow her. Once she got going that fast, she was beautiful. A touch here, a touch there kept her in motion, offsetting the tiny drift to the top of the tube caused by the spin of the ship. They were heading south, and theoretically picking up speed, though it was hardly noticeable.

Helen caught up with Alison at a hatch.

"Tell me!" she cried. Alison only laughed. Helen detected intense excitement again. Alison was out of her mind. Eventually they arrived at a hatch, and got into the elevator landing. Helen kept asking Alison, but all she would say was that it was something very exciting. "A star has been spotted!" Helen guessed, hardly daring to breathe.

"Yes," said Alison, eyes shining. "It could mean anything. After all these years!"

The elevator seemed to take ages to get there, but soon the hatch opened, and they got in. It had been cleared to give Alison priority. Within seconds they were back at the observatory, where Anu awaited them, barely containing her excitement. She whisked them out to one of the observation stations, and they sat in front of an exceptionally high-resolution screen. "This is magnified a million times," Anu said. "But see, this little thing, right in the center?"

"It's moving!" gasped Helen.

"Exactly! We've sent for the Captain and Chief Holt, they'll be here shortly."

"I was hogging the elevator," Alison muttered. "But they'd take a while to get up to the axis."

"The Chief is at Operations," Anu said, "she'll be here any minute."

While Helen watched, paying partial attention to their conversation, she saw the star move quite a significant distance from its nearest neighbor. It was an intensely bright star, and Helen began to imagine all sorts of problems. What if it was too bright? What if there were no planets?

Helen was barely aware of a stir, and a hubbub of voices over on their left. Looking over, she saw a group of people arrive, including Anu's mother, the last person Helen had expected to see. Then she remembered that it was she who had spotted the last planet. Helen stared at the woman, dressed in slacks and a heavy sweater against the cold. She was soon surrounded by the other astronomers, and Anu urged Helen out towards them. "Come on!" she called. "Let's find out!"

Having studied the monitors briefly, Sita sat at a console and carefully typed in what looked like commands into a program that looked vaguely familiar. It was a computer algebra system, Helen thought; something she had used in college. They had not changed very much in appearance, but she knew that their capabilities must have increased enormously.

"How did we miss it all this time?" an older gentleman asked.

"It was right in front of a star cluster," Sita replied. Helen knew she was a little younger than Allie, but was more stockily built, giving the impression of a very motherly woman. "If we adjust our course, we could intercept very quickly."

"How soon?"

"About three, four years. It depends on whether we interrupt power for construction."

"But is it worth it? We would lose so much energy!" Alison had volunteered that. In her mind, energy was the big problem.

"No, Alison—we must talk about it, but . . . there will be mining potential. We have to weigh the likelihood and the relative benefits of mass versus energy."

Helen smothered a gasp. They were talking of killing their speed down to zero, in the hope that they could find enough fuel around the star to accelerate again.

It was the awful problem they would face, and had faced from the beginning. If they gambled on a particular star system and lost, they would have to resume their journey at a crawl. The enormous speeds they had achieved had been done so over three quarters of a century. Did they dare squander it on this venture?

## Operations

Alison and Helen spent the rest of the day at the Observatory, and then at Operations, where Cass called a full meeting of the ship's council. She had greeted Helen warmly, giving her a fierce hug, after she had given her friend Alison a long embrace. Everyone seemed to know they were very close, and smiled at their greeting indulgently. Now Cass was talking to her urgently in a low voice that just included the three of them. "I want you right here," she said. "I know you're not a specialist, but—Alison has told me a little about you, and we need you to be here!"

"But I have no right!" Helen said, smiling awkwardly.

"You do. I'm sending for Lizzie, too."

Helen's eyes grew wide, as she began to understand. It was a matter of values, of choices, of wisdom. Lizzie and Helen presented unique viewpoints, for a ship full of colonists who had lost several generations of pioneers with a clear vision of the goals of the venture.

Helen sat and listened to the discussion. It went on for several hours. Lizzie arrived, and was ushered into a recliner near Helen, and while she was being secured in, leaned over and gave Helen a little one-armed hug. "It's good to see you!" she whispered.

Helen smiled back. She was a lovable old girl, and she felt rotten at having neglected her. She leaned over to kiss her and mumbled an apology for not visiting her. Lizzie only gave her an odd smile and punched her on the arm.

"Sooner or later, we have to commit to it. If not this star, then another one." Greg was calm on the surface, but no one in the room was truly calm. "We have to start studying it right away, to see if there's anything there. It looks like the wrong type for any kind of accretion disk that we could use."

"Can I ask something?" Helen interjected in a tiny voice. She had been burning to ask this question for nearly half an hour, but there had been no opportunity. The talk stopped, and everyone turned in her direction. Cass smiled and nodded to her, remarking that it was probably time to hear an outside voice. She asked everyone to hold their thoughts, anyway. There was much scribbling on pads.

"Go on, Helen dear," she said.

"Is there an exploratory vessel? I mean, a little rocket, or something, that we could send off, so that we don't have to sacrifice all our speed?"

It was like a bomb. There were voices everywhere. Apparently everyone had the same idea at once. But within minutes the situation was clarified.

"Yes, indeed there is," said Alison, to the assembly. "There are two shuttle craft, Alpha and Beta." She looked a little grim. "We could use one. We have to be prepared for losses. It will be a suicide mission, possibly." There were gasps from all around. "We can't spare the genes. I don't think we can. I hate the thought of sending anyone into that. But Helen's right. It's the most economical idea. We swing round in a wide arc—for which we have to expend an enormous amount of energy—while the explorer mission cuts close into near orbit, and studies the system."

Nothing was decided, except to cut the engines temporarily. There was no point in hurtling anywhere any faster than they were, until they had decided what to do. Cass was on the evening news, to explain that they were making an unexpected near pass on a star.

"With our present knowledge," Cass said, looking right into the camera, "we're almost certain we could extract _something_ from around the star. Almost any matter is useful. We could use it for propulsion, or if there is metal, we could use it in lots of ways. The only problem is, of course, that we have to slow the ship down to do it. We're thinking of sending a manned mission out to the star, but we don't want to put anyone at risk. In short, there's lots to think about, and while I welcome any ideas, this is a decision I and the council have to take. If we can formulate a simple question that we can ask the population, we will call for a vote. This is good news; that's the important thing to remember. The question is: how shall we use this opportunity?" Cass smiled. She then introduced two members of the council, a hippie representative, and another representative from outside the ship's services. And the entire ship must have been watching. There were no signs of panic, but Helen wondered how the news was being received.

## Melanie

Helen and Alison had returned to Ocean for the night. One part of Helen's mind was still trying to take in the enormity of their discovery. Jeannie reported that she had done a little reading, and she had been stunned at how much had been forgotten in a mere seventy years. There were standard operating procedures set out before the ship had been launched. Some of the staffers at launch had been among the architects of the mission, and had written extensively on their theories about the most efficient plan. Even the continuity program referred constantly to the Encounter Procedure. Somewhere along the line, an encounter had stopped meaning an encounter with a star system. What it had begun to mean was not clear, but it was clear now: there were routines to be followed when a star with a possibly viable planet was sighted, and they had sighted one. It was not on their itinerary, but there was a procedure prescribed for it. Now Greg and the other mission specialists had to analyze the procedures, and give them a recommendation.

"I don't think we should necessarily follow the procedure exactly as described," Greg had said firmly. "We know a lot more about matters now than they knew then. We've made changes to our drives over the years, and to the structure of the ship. The expertise in our crew has changed; all the original crew are dead . . . it doesn't make sense to follow their procedure!" Cass had agreed, but she had insisted that the procedure be reviewed by all of them.

They checked into their rooms again. While Helen mulled over the situation, another part of her mind was—no surprise—wondering whether she would see Melanie again. The memory of Melanie made her almost sick with desire. How could she have let her go?

Forgoing supper, Helen went out to the dance club, leaving Alison behind. Alison had pleaded a headache, but Helen suspected that she had an inkling of Helen's plan. She went inside, and was surprised to see the floor almost empty. People sat around, talking animatedly. In spite of all the science that was taught in the schools, there were all kinds of gaps in their knowledge of basic physics. Why don't we head straight to the thing? What's the problem with turning the ship? It made Helen angry.

She looked everywhere, but Melanie was not to be seen. Recognizing Helen from the previous night, one group called her over and invited her to sit with them. Helen stood and talked with them for a minute. They offered her a drink, but she refused politely.

"I'm looking for someone," she said.

"Oh, yes—she hasn't been around yet, tonight," they told her, grinning. Helen thanked them, and hurried away blushing. Going out, she saw another dance place, a larger one, and went towards it.

"Oh, hi! Hello!" Helen heard the thin voice and turned round. It was Melanie, her hair flying behind her. Then ran towards each other and clasped hands, breathing rapidly. "I hoped you would come!"

"I was looking for you!"

"Were you?"

She had been running. She was panting so hard that her breath blew into Helen's nose, warm, full of the scent of her. She was blushing, embarrassed to be out of breath.

"I saw you coming out, I was over there," Melanie said, pointing to the boardwalk far away. The sea was quite a distance away, but there was the feel of a seaside resort.

It was all very confusing. Helen drew her out of the light, to the other side of the street.

"Please don't run away tonight," Helen begged.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, touching Helen's cheek. Her breasts brushed Helen's unintentionally, but arousing Helen almost painfully. They walked back to the boardwalk hand in hand, like children, and Melanie turned to Helen. She was dressed much more simply than she had been the previous night, and wore only beachcomber sandals, and held only a little handkerchief in her hand. "I only came by to see if you would come," she said.

"I'm glad you did," Helen said, her face burning.

"What's your name?" she asked. Helen stammered out her name. She had not told her last night. She must have thought of Helen _as the girl who danced with me but didn't tell me her name._ "Look, I have to get back," she said, "I . . . I . . ."

The life seemed to go out of Helen. Somehow it had seemed desperately important that she should do something—really connect with Melanie tonight. But it was presumptuous of her. Melanie presumably had a life, and wasn't obsessed with either Helen, or the star system they had seen.

"I understand," Helen said softly, "I just wanted to say hi!"

She turned towards Helen and stared at her for a moment. Then she laughed. She slowed her walk, until they were standing in the dark, facing each other.

"Are you sure?" Melanie said. "I'm just . . . babysitting some kids. Want to come with me?"

Helen nodded. Her pulse was racing. She knew about girls who made out while they were supposed to be babysitting. But this was crazy. She was Helen Nordstrom, a celebrity. What was happening to her?

Presently they came to a little beach cottage, and Melanie opened the door. Inside were two little girls, watching television. Helen knew at once: Melanie was not just babysitting them; they belonged to Melanie. They looked exactly like her, down to the long black hair, and the large, soft eyes.

"Oh, they're perfect!" Helen whispered, kneeling in front of the sofa in which they sat. One seemed about a year and a half, just out of diapers, and the other about four. The older one was prettier, with a sweet smile and a thin, long face like her mother. The younger one was as cute as a button, with deep dimples, and the merriest eyes Helen had ever seen.

In seconds, Helen had made friends with the younger girl, and she leaped into Helen's arms. The older one simply sat and studied Helen, smiling sweetly, a little lady.

"Just babysitting them?" Helen asked reproachfully of their mother.

Melanie ignored the question, pleased at how it had turned out. "You obviously like children," she said. "I wasn't sure!"

Helen helped undress the little tykes, but now that they had a visitor, they refused to go to bed. Melanie sighed. "They never go to bed unless I go too," she said. "Please stay with us, until the girls fall asleep?" Melanie asked.

"Certainly," Helen said.

It was like a dream.

They turned out the lights, and Helen boldly took off her dress in the dark, and lay down on the narrow bed with the little girls and their mother. The youngest one, Maya, crawled all over Helen, and finally fell asleep on her stomach. The older one, Marissa, giggled at Helen's jokes, and drowsed off next to her mother.

Helen gently moved Maya down next to her sister, with Melanie's help, and the two women turned towards each other and kissed tenderly. Melanie was all softness and sensuousness. As Helen caressed the girl, barely daring to touch her, Melanie pressed Helen's hands against herself, her eyes closed, sighing softly to herself.

"Are you married?" Melanie asked in a soft whisper.

"No," said Helen, in a whisper too. She kept the pain out of her voice.

"Do you . . . have someone?"

After a pause, Helen came back with, "I thought you folk from Ocean didn't care about such things!"

Melanie's thoughts were elsewhere, and she didn't hear.

"Where are you from?"

"Temperate."

"Are you going back there, after . . . you're done with your trip?"

"Yes."

Melanie stroked Helen's back, her legs fitted to Helen's body as closely as possible.

"Maya likes you very much," Melanie said next.

That was probably the best place for Helen to have told Melanie that she had to go.

"You are an incredibly beautiful woman, and your children are perfect," Helen whispered.

"Stay with me," Melanie begged, her voice humming with something even greater than desire. "Stay with us!"

"Why?"

"Because," she said, burying her face in Helen's breast. Her skin was like silk, soft and smooth and fine. Her hair was soft and springy, and the smell of her drove Helen crazy. She fit in Helen's arms perfectly, her full breasts crushed against Helen.

"You know why?"

"Tell me," Helen said.

She looked at Helen, her eyes serious. Helen was taken by surprise; this was not lovemaking.

"I live to dance," said she. "When I dance with someone, I know whether they are right for me. And when I danced with you . . ."

"What did you feel?"

"You were perfect."

It wasn't the first time Helen had heard that silly idea. It was a common belief among certain types of people for whom Helen—generally—had little respect. Dozens of men and women had swooned over Helen, because they had danced well together. Helen knew a thousand couples who had fallen in love while dancing, and who had divorced within a year. And even after they divorced, they still yearned for each other. It was as though dancing did something to people's minds.

Helen and Melanie made love tenderly, with the little girls fast asleep in the bed with them. Melanie was an exquisitely gentle, tender lover. They floated together in their pleasure, with Melanie wrapped around Helen like a vine.

She fell asleep, only to wake when her phone rang.

"Where are you?" Alison asked.

"With a friend," Helen replied, little Maya on her stomach once again, her nose pressed against Helen's.

"I'm off to Operations for a meeting," she told Helen, "come over when you're ready. Anybody will help you find your way."

"Okay," said Helen.

"Who is that? Your lover?" asked Melanie, a tiny frown creasing her face. Helen felt herself getting excited.

"That's my friend. She's the chief of engineering," Helen said, smiling. Melanie was beautiful, the soft morning light showing her body to perfection. Helen could feel herself getting ready for more lovemaking.

Melanie's eyes grew wide. The ship's crew were special, exalted people.

"What are you—are you crew, too?"

"No, I'm a dancer, and a musician. And a teacher."

"Really?" Melanie's eyes grew even wider. "I am, too! I teach kindergarten!"

Helen found the woman irresistible. Melanie made breakfast for the kids, and then they made love again. The little girls simply smiled at Helen, as if sex was the most natural thing in the world.

"What's going to happen? What have they found out about this star?" Melanie asked in a soft whisper, a little later. "What does your friend say?"

"It could be a lucky break in lots of ways. We could go and fuel the ship from there. There's bound to be Hydrogen. If there is, our energy problems will be solved."

"I heard they were calling for volunteers." Melanie shuddered. "I couldn't leave the girls behind."

Helen stared at her. "They'll need specialists, Melanie. Unless you have a background in Chemistry, or mineralogy, or—who knows what!—they couldn't take you."

"Well . . . planetary science is what I studied. Like, composition of asteroids, that kind of stuff. You know, like what's out there in an accretion disc."

Helen bit back her embarrassment for making an obvious mistake. Just because the girl taught kindergarten, just because she was a little irresponsible with her kids, just because she liked to dance, just because she was beautiful, and looked exotic didn't mean she was an airhead.

To Helen she seemed immediately somehow _sexier_. Helen became thoughtful. For a person who had prided herself as being prejudice-free, she had a lot to learn about herself! It was clear that her libido responded to her perception of the intelligence of her sex partner.

"Wow," she said. The girls were playing quietly outside. School began at nine, and it was still only seven. Plenty of time. "Why didn't you go into service?" Helen asked.

The girl suddenly sat up in bed, facing her, her full, ripe breasts swinging slightly as she moved. She straddled Helen's thighs possessively and made herself comfortable.

"I don't know," she said, thoughtfully. "I guess I never expected that we would find a star system in my lifetime." She crossed one arm under her breasts, which she did often, not to emphasize them so much, Helen thought, as to support them. "The other girls in my group—two went into service, and both dropped out. They make baskets, now." Her eyes grew thoughtful. "I bet they're sorry! They could have gone. But I was the best," she said, with clear pride. "But I'm a good kindergarten teacher, too. It's not like I hate what I do."

She was a distracting sight, and the warmth of her was driving Helen crazy. All this was distracting Helen from the furious humming of her mind, still turning over the events of the previous day. Ironically, as Melanie continued her unconscious seduction of her, her eyes, too, were somewhere else. But in her mind, Helen and this star were all bound together somehow, Helen could see.

"If there is a planet," Helen said, her voice breaking, and choked, unable to continue. She could only stare at Melanie, crouched over her, her eyes enormous. It was as if her feet ached to be on the ground. Nothing seemed as important. Nothing. She fought her tears and won. It made her angry to watch the colonists deal with this event. She longed to be one of them, and they had accepted her with more than open arms. But try as she might, she felt an outsider, a part of the support staff, someone thrown in for subtle, elusive reasons. What was her duty? What did she want to do? What did she want for them? _What did she want for herself?_ Helen sighed, her chest tight. "We have to go in. There might be a planet, there might not; there's sure to be _something._ The ship is dying from boredom, Melanie."

Melanie laid a hand on Helen's breast. She cocked her head to one side, and her eyes narrowed with pure greed.

"There's something about you," she said, in almost a whisper. "It's like . . ." She shook her head in confusion. "I have to be honest," she said softly, dropping her eyes. "I have to tell you that—I'd do anything to make you stay with me. Have you never felt like that? Have you never met someone, and in seconds, you tell yourself, this is the one?"

They were words more suitable to a romantic candlelight dinner, or under the stars, in the cool of the evening. But they were both different, and it was as though they were at a pivotal point in their lives, where clichés were a waste of time. They were not facing danger, but rather great promise.

Had Helen ever felt like that? It was like a sudden paper cut in her heart. In seconds they were making love passionately, Helen silent and fierce, Melanie crying out from deep inside her, strangled moans of desire and need, broken words, gasping out that the children would be frightened, melting into unabashed cries of pleasure. The kids came in to stand staring at the women, wide-eyed. Helen rolled Melanie on top of her, hoping to allay fears that she was hurting their mother.

"Go outside! Go! _Go, children!_ " Melanie cried at them. They fled, only to watch fearfully from the doorway.

It was fierce, rough sex, and they were thoroughly sore when they stopped. They were kissing passionately when Melanie stopped with a gasp. The girls had come in to watch again, by then.

"Look at the time! I have to go! I have to get the children ready!" It was eight thirty.

Helen kissed her quickly.

"You get cleaned up. I'll help with the kids," she said.

Melanie was very still.

"Be my lover," she asked again. "We belong together!"

"Get ready," Helen said gently.

The children were perfect. They were well-trained; after they had decided Helen was harmless, they told Helen exactly what was to be done, and got themselves ready in no time, while Melanie took the time she needed to tend to her long hair, cursing to herself that she should cut it and be done with it. But she combed it with infinite patience in spite of her words. Pretty underthings and a wrap-around skirt, a special satin bra with lace trim that minimized and supported her breasts, and a pretty hip-length tunic trimmed to match her skirt. Beautiful sandals, a touch of makeup, and she was ready. Even for kindergarten she dressed carefully.

There was still fifteen minutes left. The girls were eating their breakfast, and Melanie helped herself to a moderate portion of it. "Eat!" she commanded Helen, and Helen complied obediently. She vanished into her closet, and returned with a wrap-around skirt and blouse, like the ones she wore, and a towel. "You're coming with me," she said.

The last thing Helen wanted was to leave her now. She had been given the morning off, essentially, and she was enjoying being with the beautiful Ocie girl. She hurried into the bath, and cleaned up in a minute. The clothes miraculously fit her; the skirt was no surprise, but the tunic fit her, too.

Through the door, Helen heard the older girl asking her mother whether she liked the lady. She heard Melanie say, yes, very much. Ask her to stay, said the child. Ask her again! After a year of becoming gradually closer to Daisy, slowly forging themselves into a family, Helen could hardly believe that she was becoming infatuated—or falling in love?—with another woman over two short days.

They held hands all the way to the little school, which was in the shade of a grove of palm trees, within sight of the sea. "We go out to bathe in the sea sometimes," Melanie said. "Our culture is built around the sea."

"During school?"

"Oh yes. Recess, you know?"

"And your little girl is in your class?"

"The older one. The little one just plays by herself. Sometimes there are a couple more who come in with some of the other teachers, and then we take turns to supervise them. There are lots of toys and things, of course, and they're quite at home there."

"In Temperate, there are professional day-care centers for preschoolers," Helen said.

Melanie made a face. "In that way we're more like the Hippies," she admitted. "We just don't make a fuss about it!"

Apart from the idyllic setting of the little school on the beach, it was a friendly, informal, delightful little school. The children all seemed to have sunny dispositions, and all the adults seemed intelligent and knowledgeable. But today they were all distracted by the news from the observatory. If they had been less intelligent, less aware, Helen thought, it might have been more business as usual. But that was impossible. With the approval of their head teacher, they reorganized their classes to free some of them to sit together and talk about the situation. Helen volunteered to help, and wound up teaching some of the older kids some songs.

The children already knew quite a few songs, as it turned out. The tradition of singing was alive and well out in this corner of Ocean. And they danced, too! They taught Helen a few of their simple dances, and a good time was had by all.

The head teacher came round to talk to her.

"You're doing a wonderful job, Miss! Melanie tells me you are a professional!"

"I didn't tell her that, but yes," Helen said, scowling at Melanie who was arguing intently with her fellow-teachers, oblivious to the conversation between Helen and the head-teacher. "I may as well tell you who I am," she said with a sigh. "You might have heard of me? I'm the famous sleeper number one, and I'm supposed to spend a little time at every school, encouraging music education."

His eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Of course! But—but I was never informed you were coming! I thought—"

"I'm here unofficially," Helen assured him, with a gentle touch on his arm. "I find the kids in much better shape than anywhere else!"

He beamed with pride. "That comes from our culture," he said. "Singing is part of life around here!" His smile gave way to a sad frown. "Does that mean we won't get much attention from you, and your—program?"

Helen looked at him sympathetically, and suddenly made up her mind. "No," she said, "I think I should capitalize on it, and maybe do some more."

"Yes! Yes, good! Wonderful!"

She got another large group, and taught them some different songs. That way, she thought, by the time I get here officially, they'll maybe teach each other the songs and make it easier.

Someone else came to relieve Helen, and Helen was sent off to talk with the teachers. "Tell them what you told me!" said Melanie. Helen gave them all the details of what had been seen, and what had been discussed.

"How close _is_ it?"

"Three—four years, _you_ know, Gertie, they said on the news!"

"Three years! Goodness!"

"I wish we could listen for an update," Helen said, suddenly wishing she were back with Alison.

"School rules don't allow it," said they.

"But wait, there's _Real-Time News!"_

_Real-Time-News_ , they cried to each other, and headed for the big screen near the school office. While some of them found the channel, the others gathered all the children in and got them seated.

"It has been decided," said the announcer on the screen, "that a mission is to be sent out to the star. Exactly what the composition of the team will be is still under discussion. It might even be a robot probe. Meanwhile, the observatory has been very secretive about their latest findings. There is no doubt that a lot will be learned by studying the system, but the questions in the minds of the council are: how much to slow down, and whom to send." There followed diagrams of the trajectory of the ship, possible trajectories ranging from a slight deviation to an orbital injection, and possible paths for the cutter, as they were calling the little vessel they were planning to send on the mission.

Just before lunch, everyone stripped down to their underwear, and headed out on the long walk to the water. To Helen's pleasure, each group she had been teaching began to sing the songs she had taught them, quite spontaneously. It felt odd to be walking along the path half-naked, holding hands with Melanie, with Melanie's younger child on her hip. But somehow it seemed not too weird; as though the rules of good behavior were suspended. They nodded to the lifeguard perched on his platform, and went in the water. Helen joined them, with Melanie close to her. The kids swam around in the goofy way kids did all over. Helen had expected that they would be better swimmers than Temperate kids, but they didn't seem to be particularly.

Melanie had wrapped her arm around Helen's arm, hugging it to her breast.

"There is someone. There has to be someone," she said, looking over the kids, but her mind focused inside her, on the feelings she had for Helen. She looked into Helen's eyes, and her eyes smoldered. "I could almost _hate_ him! _Her!_ Her. It's a woman."

"Melanie," Helen began, "we hardly _know_ each other! How _can_ you ask me such personal questions?"

Melanie let go of Helen, and stood a little apart, her arm crossed beneath her breast in that characteristic pose of hers, one leg off to a side, her hips tilted in an unconsciously seductive angle. She was tall for a girl, about 5 foot 5, just a couple of inches shorter than Helen. Her face wasn't pretty—her jaw was far too long, and so was her nose, and her face.

"What do I do? Keep quiet and let you go?"

Helen rolled her eyes. "You're at work! This isn't the time."

"Is she pretty? What makes her so special?" Melanie demanded.

Helen resented Melanie's persistence, though she was flattered by it. Her single-mindedness was both repulsive and attractive at the same time. The fact of the matter was that Melanie was afraid that once Helen went away, that she would lose all power over her.

Helen looked away. "It's not just one person, Melanie, it's—it's a whole family . . . a woman, and a little boy and a little girl . . . I love them dearly."

"When—when we made love, you—you said, _I love you!"_ Helen glanced at her, and saw that Melanie knew this was nothing she could really use. But she stumbled on. "Didn't you mean that?"

Helen sniffed loudly. She was sick of showdowns like this. Oh god, she thought, if only I could settle down with one woman, and never fall in love again. It would almost be worth losing her sight. Melanie's face was so deliciously ugly, but . . . if she kept this up, she would _argue_ Helen into falling in love with her.

Unexpectedly, there was a call from the head teacher. He wanted Melanie. His thin reedy voice drifted to them across the sand dunes, hailing her urgently. Melanie swore, and politely excused herself. It was almost comic how polite she was, even when yelling at Helen. She really hadn't been yelling; she had kept her voice down. Only her face had betrayed the power of her emotions.

Helen watched her stumble away. There was defiance and fury and hopelessness, all combined in it. Her hands were clenched, her head was bowed, her narrow shoulders a little hunched. Helen could almost see her thinking up more arguments, plotting to get Helen somehow. Helen studied Melanie's powerful buttocks, the buttocks of a runner, and almost missed the nod and smile from the head teacher. There was something a little strained about it.

Little Maya tugged at her hand, and Helen absently picked her up and dusted off her round little body. She felt cool and comfortable against her breast, and her hands soft against Helen's skin. The head teacher had drawn Melanie a little apart, and was talking to her earnestly. Helen could almost see the moment when Melanie absorbed what he was saying. She froze for a moment, and turned to squint at Helen.

Shit, Helen thought, he's told her who I am.

Melanie stayed with the head teacher for the remaining time. At noon, they all got out of the water and headed back to school, with Helen bringing up the rear. There were adults about now, and they eyed the women with frank admiration. Helen was by far the most admired of them. If I had bigger breasts, she thought, I'd be a heck of a lot more popular.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" asked a soft voice near her. Melanie made no move to come any closer. She was just close enough to hold out her arms for Maya, who went to her mother.

"I don't know," Helen said softly. "Would you have?"

Melanie shook her head. "I don't know," she said, with a different inflection. "I have trouble being anyone but me, you know? I've never been able to see things from anyone else's perspective."

"You wouldn't have any trouble. You're intelligent. You have imagination."

"No, I don't," Melanie said, shaking her head vigorously. "Not that _kind_ of imagination."

They walked along in silence.

"You know what I'm thinking?"

"What?"

"M-U-R-D-E-R," she said. "I don't want to say it, because of—you-know-who."

"Melanie . . . if you think she can't feel your mood, you're crazy."

Melanie hugged the baby and kissed her. "She must never learn that her Mama is a homicidal maniac," she said, nuzzling the tyke and making her laugh.

School was done soon after lunch. They were settled down in Melanie's living room, with the little girls playing with their dolls on the floor. Maya was too little to do more than absently tap her doll's head on the floor. Marissa was making play food with some sand and flower petals.

"All right, I give in," Melanie said, smiling sweetly. But Helen could see the seriousness in her eyes. "Tell me about her!" She wore a bra and a sarong, and sat with her leg tucked under her. Helen already made a run out to her hotel room and brought her clothes, and Melanie had washed them and hung them out to dry. Helen was in her panties and bra.

Helen told her as much as she could stand; there were some things about her and Daisy that were too private for telling. In turn, Melanie told her her story. She had had three wonderful years with an older man, but soon after Maya was born he had fallen in love with another woman over in Tropical. He worked in security, and now lived over there. Helen could hardly believe one could fall out of love with Melanie, but at any rate she was alone, now.

"I have been pretending to be an Ocie," she said.

"But you _are_ an Ocie!"

She shook her head. "Not at heart. At heart . . . I'm looking for love. Very special love."

"Why?"

"Why did you come into that bar the other night?"

"Just . . . to dance."

Melanie looked amused. "I thought, maybe, to have yourself an Ocie for a night!"

Helen shrugged.

Looking miserable, Melanie told Helen that the thought of Helen having sex with anyone else was unbearable. Marissa hurried over to her mother and tried to comfort her. The reproachful eyes she turned on Helen were hard to bear. Maya absently pounded her doll's head into the floor, staring at the two adults in bewilderment. "I don't know what to do," Melanie said, her face scrunched up, wet with tears. "I've never felt this bad . . . not even when— _he_ left me!" Both children were in her arms now. It was almost as if Helen faced the whole little family, united in their frustration with her.

"I should go," said Helen, feeling miserable in her turn. "You're upset, I'm upset . . ."

" _No!_ Don't go!" Helen looked at her, feeling frustrated herself. All she could do is shrug. "Wait! Just talk to me!"

"What do you _want?_ "

"Just _talk_ to me!" she wept, and the children cried with her.

"You're getting hysterical," Helen accused, "and it's not good for the children." She was angry, and Melanie's tantrum was beginning to look more childish by the minute. She was not surprised that her husband—or whatever he had been—had chosen to leave her. Her monomania was frightening in its intensity. Helen was unhappy that Melanie could not get a grip on her feelings for the sake of common courtesy.

"I'll go get my clothes off the line," Helen said. There was a note in her voice that was ugly, and Helen didn't like it herself. She softened her voice. "Thank you sincerely for washing them for me. When I get dressed, I'd really like to see you calm. I don't want to remember forever your face the way it is at this moment."

She headed for the clothesline, where minutes earlier they had hung up the clothes together. She found her clothes quite dry. Somehow there was a steady breeze, though the cylinder was far too small to have weather, as such. The garden was full of the scent of flowers, a little white tropical flower that bloomed at that time of year. Helen had smelled it the previous night, when she had first come to the house, and now it was associated in her mind with that place. Her blouse felt soft and smelled clean.

Helen cursed herself for lecturing Melanie. She had found out, over the course of the afternoon, how bright the girl was. She was articulate and—in spite of her claims to the contrary—imaginative. She was a remarkable woman, with a good command not only of her specialty of planetary science, but also of astronomy, astrophysics, nuclear physics, high-energy physics, mathematics, and chemistry. She was wonderful with her students, and equally wonderful with her colleagues. Everyone at the school adored her, where she had shown no inkling of the volatile side of her personality, except briefly at the beach. Helen was furious mostly because of the contrast between her potential and her behavior.

Helen dressed outside, heedless of passers-by, who could see her through the fence, and went in. Melanie had cleaned her face up, tidied her hair, and done the same for the children. She surprised Helen by rising to her feet with a smile, with the children in her arms. She took a step towards Helen.

"I know one thing for sure," she said awkwardly, "you will make a good mother!"

"Why do you say that?" asked Helen, pleased.

"Because I saw how you were with these two. They need someone like you, quiet and dependable, solid. I'm . . . a little too emotional!"

"You were wonderful at school," Helen pointed out.

Melanie hung her head. "Yeah," she admitted. "Until today." Then she put on a smile. "Say goodbye, Maya!" Maya said goodbye in her own way, and Helen waved back. Marissa did the same. Helen took them in her arms, one by one, and kissed each face gently on the cheek.

"I wrote that out for you," Melanie said, indicating a neatly folded paper she had left on the desk. "It's our address, and our phone number. Please call!"

"Am I allowed to visit?"

"You know you are!" said Melanie with a smile, but Helen knew she wasn't welcome, unless she wanted to stay.

## Back to Operations

"What have you been doing?" Helen was calling Alison.

"Oh—I went out to an elementary school, and conducted some singing lessons."

"Good. You want to come on in and see what's going on?"

She sounded distracted, but it did seem as if Alison wanted her there. Helen said she'd come over, and hung up.

She was unbelievably wrung out. Though it had been just under a day, her time with Melanie had seemed like a week of intense emotional experience. And it was all unresolved; Melanie and the children clung to her thoughts tenaciously, not allowing her to push them to the back of her mind. Something in her wanted to go back at once and promise never to leave them. She felt safe, and happy and wanted by them.

With an effort, Helen packed her things, and headed out towards the hub via the elevator.

With a little help from security and engineering, she found herself safely at Operations. Everyone was seated in a circle facing a large screen, which showed the cluster of stars against which the star they were approaching had been hidden. It was a much smaller, dimmer star, and was now well away to the left. They had a stabilized view from the telescope now, adjusted for rotation.

"We've begun a slow maneuver to slew our path over," Alison explained to Helen. "Greg is ready to give you a detailed explanation, but that's the rough situation."

" _Me?_ Why me?"

Alison looked cautious. "Everybody thinks you should be given a complete brief of everything." She shrugged. "I agree. I think you have a good head on your shoulders."

Helen blushed. If only she could inspire the same confidence in herself as she inspired in others!

"What else?"

"We're going to armor the cutter, and upgrade its engines. We're going to equip it so that it can supplement the fuel it carries with whatever it finds."

Helen stared at Alison. There was something more.

"And?"

Alison grinned. "What do you mean, _and?_ " Helen simply looked at her, eyebrows raised. Alison sighed. They were now surrounded by a number of grinning people. "Okay. This is strictly classified information!" Helen nodded slowly. "They think they've found a planet!"

Helen blinked.

It was too much. It was all too much. Helen covered her cheeks with her hand, and burst into tears. With everything that had happened to her recently, she was sick to death of the ship, of the very thought of being _on_ a ship, and she desperately wanted to be outside, on solid ground, where everything would be all right.

It took a while to calm her down, and before between sobs, she was able to gasp out why she felt so emotional. "I want to go out there, and . . . stand on the damn planet," she said. "I don't care if it kills me! You have no _idea_ how badly I want to do that!"

They stared at her, aghast.

"But what's the _point?_ "

Helen shook her head. "It's not a matter of survival," she said. "If you've been on a boat for a week, you would know. The sight of land . . . it drives you crazy!"

"But . . . we were _born_ on the ship, Helen—I know _you_ weren't, but . . . I guess that makes a big difference."

"It's not just me," Helen told them. "I imagine, for some, this _planet-lust_ is hard-wired into their genes!" That was the only way to explain what the Dropouts felt.

"It's very likely," said Greg, joining them. "That's why we mustn't let it out. It could cause a riot. We don't have the ability to drop everyone on board onto a planet, and fetch them out again."

"You expect the planet to be uninhabitable!"

They all nodded solemnly at her. But Helen didn't care. She wanted to go on that exploratory team so badly that she was surprised she hadn't realized it before. But what were the chances of being allowed to do that?

"99% of all planets are uninhabitable, Helen. Look at Mars!"

Helen snorted. Jeannie had been born when the ship was past Jupiter. What did she know about Mars? Then Helen slumped. In her head she knew it was true; if there was a planet even as Earth-like as Mars, Helen would give her eye to stand on it. But it would be a miracle.

"What's the planet like?" she asked, trying to sound only scientifically curious.

They shook their heads.

"It's too early to say. It's very large, but apparently very light. They get this from its gravitational influence on the star. So it's either a gas planet, or . . . "

"Or a water planet, or something like the moon, or... "

"It's impossible to tell."

Helen was jittery and on edge. She soon realized that the state of mental equilibrium of most of the others was far worse. There were a number of practical things to talk through, and Helen found herself facilitating a lot of the discussion. She had very little actual know-how, but once she had set her personal desires aside—which was not difficult, she found—she had a remarkably level head, and a wonderful sense of the right question to ask. And she had a good memory for keeping track of what they were discussing, even when they tended to go into flights of fancy.

It was normally Jeannie who led these sorts of discussions, but the whole business had put her off- balance. In addition, she seemed preoccupied with something that Helen did not know. Mary and Martha were off by themselves reading some documentation, and Helen was often the one who was sent to obtain information from them. It was well into the wee hours when Helen found herself dropping off.

"Oh goodness," Cass said, "look at the time: it's nearly two. Helen, you're asleep on your feet!"

"I just dropped off for a second," Helen mumbled.

"But look at the others. They're hopeless." Cass smiled at Helen, red-eyed. "You've been incredible! Can you be here tomorrow?"

"I'll try," said Helen. "I have to find Alison; I don't know where we're going tonight!"

"Allie is asleep in the coffee-room."

They went out to the little staff lounge, and sure enough, Alison was fast asleep, strapped into a sofa. Helen covered her up tenderly in a blanket that fastened down with what Helen was accustomed to calling Velcro, but what was called _tackytape_ on the ship. Cass watched with a half-smile. Helen could think what Cass must imagine as passing between them on this trip. If only she could confide in Cass! If only she could tell her that seducing Alison was furthest from her mind. If only there were _someone_ she could tell about Melanie.

"Come on, dear, let's find a place to sleep. Alison will be fine here overnight; Alex will look after her. Alex adores Alison. I'm sure we can find a room on Tropical."

## Talking with Cass

Cass wanted to spend the night with Helen. I'm not going to share a room with her, Helen told herself. She distrusted the power Cass wielded, and the way she used the information she had. She wasn't sure that Cass had her interests at heart.

Meanwhile Cass had shepherded Helen outside, and they were headed towards the elevator. Cass wasn't paying attention; once on board the elevator, they were headed towards Temperate. Cass was on autopilot.

"Good heavens! Where are we?"

"We're just about to pass Ocean station!"

"Well, come home with me. I expect Daisy will manage without you one more day."

Once down in Temperate, in the places she was most familiar with, in the semi-dark of nighttime in the segment, as they unlocked Cass's door, and let themselves into the home Helen had first lived in for a couple of weeks, Helen felt calmer and more relaxed. Cass's slow, deliberate routine soothed her. She kept up a quiet chatter as she went about putting this away, inspecting that, closing this window, turning out that light.

"If you don't mind, we'll put you in your old room, and I'll drag the sofa in. I feel like company tonight."

"But Art . . . "

"Oh, he's fast asleep. Help me with this!"

The sofa was a light thing, nothing but a bench with a long cushion on it. Half an hour later they were snuggled into their bed and sofa respectively.

"I'm too excited to sleep," Cass said. She sounded young, not the wise old woman she really was.

Helen laughed softly. "I'm wiped out," she said.

"You helped a lot today," Cass said. "Allie adores you."

"No she doesn't," Helen said, blushing a little. She had to admit to herself that she was flattered. "She's told me what she thinks of me."

"Oh, she tells you one thing, and she thinks something different. Alison had a hard time telling me what she thought of me, too. But I knew."

"And what was that?"

"Another time, dear; another time!" Cass had a smile in her voice that took the edge off the evasion.

"Are you truly happy, Helen?"

"That's a funny question to ask, isn't it?"

"I was a little concerned when you said how much you'd like to make planetfall. I wondered whether you were unhappy about your life on the ship. Sometimes I see you looking so desperately unhappy that—it really is heartbreaking."

Helen remembered how frustrated she had been at Cass's interference in her personal affairs. "Oh, I'm doing beautifully, Cass. Believe me when I say that."

"You don't trust me, do you. You don't know me, and you don't know what my motives are."

"I didn't mean it to sound that way, Cass, believe me; I really am fine! I love being on the ship; I love what I'm doing. Just today I taught some children a few songs, and it was very satisfying. I'm fine!"

Cass stirred restlessly. "Your eyes are red with crying, you had the most miserable look on your face this morning when you came in." Helen held her breath. "Helen, I respect your privacy. But if you want to talk, I'm here."

Helen was stunned. Cass was obviously very observant. Helen mumbled something, and said she would talk to Cass one of these days. Cass replied pleasantly, and settled down to sleep.

Helen lay awake, thinking about Daisy and Melanie, and the three children. (Ben somehow never touched her heart the way the other three children seemed to.) Then, in spite of everything she tried, her thoughts turned to Melanie. Sweet, passionate Melanie.

Deliberately Helen recalled other lovers she had known, in particular one. These days it did not evoke as much sadness and loss—and anger—as thinking about her had a short time ago. Tiny, brilliant, innocent, quirky, spiritual, gentle, fierce. She had been everything Helen wanted, distilled into a small, dense space. She was dead, now, surely, whatever 'now' meant. Despite what she had learned fifteen years ago—she refused to think of it as fifteen-plus-seventy; that was ridiculous—she _needed_ to know what _now_ meant. Did _dead_ mean different things depending on how fast you were going? _Oh my little one,_ she called out to her with her heart, in the words she had taught Helen, the sweet endearing words of the language of her Indian childhood.

She had believed in rebirth, the endless cycle of the transmigration of souls. For her it was no new-age mysticism. It was common, everyday thinking. She had stared at Helen the first time they met, and told her later that Helen was a manifestation of her goddess. Helen had laughed at first.

Helen's thoughts drifted. Oh, how she needed her now! Mercifully, her mind had begun to suppress the memories of the sad times that had begun shortly before Helen had pledged to the project.

With some effort, Helen was able to imagine her. Crafting the image in her mind, as she had done so often, but in a different direction, she made of her an angel. An angel unlike all others she had seen portrayed in art. She had loved renaissance art depicting angels and the Madonna. But this image was different; she hung above Helen, floating in air, her arms relaxed, palms forward in acceptance and blessing, dressed in the saree she wore on special occasions, so graceful, so varied in its mood. Helen imagined her in the beige-white that she wore for fasting, chaste and austere, yet relaxed, the end of the saree brought over her shoulder as a shawl. And she was smiling, her face full of concern, far lovelier than she could have ordinarily imagined it.

It was difficult to remember at what point the imagination took life on its own. Instead of the desire that Helen always put on that familiar face, there was now a compassionate interest.

_Who are you?_ Helen struggled to communicate. She knew who it was; she had constructed this piece of her imagination quite deliberately. But some instinct made her want to set it free, so that it could talk to her.

_Helen!_ The voice was full of love, but it was _her_ voice, clear as a tiny bell, though it was thin. _At last!_

_My heart aches, my love,_ Helen said. There seemed no need to waste time on trivialities. _Say what you feel in your heart,_ her other self urged her.

Why? You are surrounded by love!

Oh, my love, you are lost to me; what can I do? You know how weak I am! You know . . .

_Oh Helen, love, I'm not here to pick faults with you! Life goes on._ There seemed to be a hint of amusement in her smile. The face responded to Helen's feelings as well as her words. But it seemed to Helen that it _wanted_ words. _I got over being jealous of you—long ago._

Darling—I'm being torn apart.

She seemed to clench her fists in that familiar gesture of inarticulate frustration, then she relaxed once again. She had learned so many little habits from Helen herself! And Helen had done the same. They had been young, and their personalities had intermingled over time.

Tell me about them.

There was intense curiosity. It was as though she knew all the facts, but wanted Helen's thoughts on them. Helen recounted all about every woman on the ship about whom she had strong feelings, and the children, including Ben and Summer, and her favorites out at Severin camp. She described what each woman wanted from her, and how she felt frightened and hopeless in the face of their demands.

But . . . I cannot choose! The children are so sweet! Oh god, you must know, you must know everything that is happening to me! Tell me what to do!

She only smiled. _Whatever you do maybe wrong, or it may be right. Oh Helen, your strength has always been to love! I can't tell you what to do_. God, how much like her it sounded. Helen felt a shiver go through her. She felt positively feverish. This was too weird for words. _Helen! Don't go away, please!_ She looked alarmed.

Helen was shocked. It had been the very thought in her own mind; she had wondered whether she would fall asleep in the middle, and miss the rest of it. She had been about to beg her to stay. More than anything else, that plea gave the experience an eerie sense of reality.

_I'm not going anywhere until you help me!_ Helen made a special effort to be understood.

Sweetheart, you are my life. Do you understand?

Yes, I guess I do. Helen's self-pity returned with a vengeance. She seemed to be crying. I just want to hold her in my arms every night, and know that she loves me!

Who?

Any of them! I don't care!

Helen . . . you're only human. Give them as much as you can. You can't force them to love you, my dearest. You're strong. You're loving. You're gentle. You're encouraging. You're compassionate. Sometimes, remember? The Goddess used to shine through you!

Is it true? Is the Goddess real?

The face of the figure before her became solemn. _Yes,_ she said. _Nothing else is truly real._

Cass was already awake when Helen opened her eyes, around five. The house was still quiet, and it was still dark, but Helen could tell by her breathing. Helen had dreamed of making love with Melanie, and her clothing was damp and sticky. She wanted to get up and get washed. Then suddenly, she remembered the dream about Lalitha, and she froze, trying to remember how it ended.

"Did you sleep well?" Cass asked softly, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes," said Helen. She marveled at the loving quality of Cass's voice. She found that her attitude towards her had changed completely. She no longer thought of her as a scheming, cold woman, but as a vital, warm person, loving and gentle. She could easily see how Alison could love her. She could see even more clearly, that Cass's love for Alison was far greater.

As if to underscore this new knowledge, Cass said to herself, "I'd like to take Allie some breakfast before she wakes up."

"Won't they look after her, over there?"

"Well—I'm sure they would," she said thoughtfully, "but it won't be the same. The last few days, she's woken up with you close by. It would be disorienting to find herself alone there."

This sounded so fanciful Helen had to smile to herself. It reminded Helen of how human Cass was. All her children were grown up, and now she fussed over Alison. Helen wondered if she called Alison up every morning to ask if she had taken her vitamins.

"If I can only have a shower, I'll help you get something ready," Helen offered cautiously.

"And help me take it to her?"

"Do you really need me?"

"I was just hoping," Cass said. "And Alison would really appreciate it. You mean a lot to her, love."

Helen was surprised by the affectionate tone in which the words were said. _Was_ she so special to Alison?

"Can I ask you something?"

"Please," Cass said, and her voice was especially sincere, even anxious. "I said I'm here for you, Helen." As an afterthought she added, "The ship is my first concern, or rather—it _was_. Somehow, somewhere along the line, I've come to believe that what's good for you is good for the ship. It may sound crazy, but . . . I guess the point is that, if you ever thought I was cynical in my attitude towards you, I have to admit, there were moments. But somehow, I was never allowed to follow through. And as I've come to know you more, I've just given up trying to be the mastermind. Maybe it was you who changed the way I look at things. Maybe . . . I don't know." She fell silent. "I talk too much," she said in a soft, sad voice. "But no one listens to me."

"That's silly, Cass; you're the Chief; no one has more credibility than you!"

"But _you_ listen. I'm very grateful for that, Helen." She sighed. "I interrupted you."

"Oh. Well. This is a little difficult."

"It doesn't matter; just say it."

"It's about—personal, delicate things . . . I feel really strange talking about them . . ."

"Is it about sex? You can ask me, love; it's so refreshing to talk to someone other than old women like me, who know everything there is to know. Sometimes Allie makes me want to throttle her! Inside this wreck of a body is the soul of a fourteen-year-old, who thinks of nothing but sex all the time!" Helen laughed. Cass heaved herself up from the sofa and padded over to Helen's bed and sat on the edge of it. She smelled musky and warm, unique. Helen made space for her, and she slipped in beside Helen under the heavy comforter. "I miss this so much," she confided in almost a whisper, and Helen knew it was true. This heightened awareness of Cass made Helen feel strange.

"It's about Alison," Helen said. "When I asked Daisy to come live with me, I . . ." Cass half turned to face Helen in the dark.

There were sounds outside in the hall, and a knock on the door. Art put his head in. Cass turned back round to look. "Cass?"

"Yes, I'm here, Art. What do you want?"

"Why didn't you come to bed?" he asked, his voice betraying concern.

"Oh, I was so late getting home. I'm just talking to Helen," she said.

"Oh, sorry," he said, and vanished.

"He's so sweet," Helen said when Cass turned around. "Maybe you should go!"

"What about Alison?" Cass demanded.

Helen sighed. "I feel as though I've stolen the children from Alison and Lizzie," Helen said in a rush. "I'm not that sort of person, Cass. Normally, I would have thought it through, and talked her out of it. But I wasn't thinking! I can't believe how self-centered I've become. And she still cares for me; she's taken me on this wonderful tour of the ship . . . I feel so small! And Lizzie . . . she has so little time left!"

Cass was silent for a long time, watching Helen in the dark.

"Alison never talked to me about it."

"Oh god. Maybe she was too hurt to talk about it." Cass shrugged, but Helen, with her heightened awareness, knew Cass agreed with her.

"It might seem silly for them to move back now," Helen thought out loud. "I don't know what to do!"

Cass let her think in silence.

"Daisy and I have so much! But I feel this guilt. Especially about Lena, because I love that child so much!"

Cass gently took Helen's hand in her own and held it.

"Lena belongs to you in a way she will never belong to anyone else! You could never give her away, even to her own family. You can send them back, and they will be yours, darling. All of them." She sighed heavily. "I was waiting for you to see things this way. I love Alison, and I love you, and I love Lizzie, and I love Lena and Ben. But _something_ told me, if I wait, you would come to this realization!"

"You think they should go back?"

Cass nodded. "They should be with Allie and Lizzie. You're absolutely right about that. Maybe . . . I wonder whether it would be awkward if you moved in with them? You belong with them so much more than you belonged here. You were unhappy, uncomfortable with me. I loved you so much, having you here was so wonderful . . ."

"Cass, I'm so sorry! There were—problems; things I'd rather not . . ."

"Please listen, Helen. I came to terms with your needs long ago! I don't love you one bit less, dear. And it was wonderful, seeing you blossom, once you had control of your environment. If you could all be together, perhaps that's what all of you need. This culture places far too much emphasis on privacy. Look at your friends, the Dropouts. Privacy is an occasional thing there, isn't it? You slept in a dormitory! The Hippies live a kind of communal existence, but Art is so incredibly well-adjusted. I think this privacy thing is so _stupid._ "

"I don't know," Helen said, feeling bad to contradict Cass. She could well imagine life without privacy: she had lived it. "In the end," she said, in a wondering voice, "I suppose it's how you were brought up; how you see yourself."

"I suppose," said Cass. She sighed. Shaking her head, she muttered to herself, "There has to be some sort of compromise. You see all sorts of living arrangements in the videos, from the late 20th century. But how much of that is fiction? You were there; you must know. Those dormitories in Universities? Look at the kind of things they depict as being normal in those places! You must have lived in such a dormitory when you were at University, Helen, surely?"

"In college, yes. College is just after high school—but yes, essentially, you're right. The details of that education aren't relevant, after all. And yes, dorm life is conducive to sexual experimentation, but not for bringing up kids. Before I was born there were communes, but they were remembered with distaste when I was a child. They were synonymous with licentious behavior. Just the kind of suspicion that Ship folk have towards Dropouts."

Cass silently touched Helen's cheek.

"I trust you," she said. There was a wholehearted tone to her voice that surprised Helen. It seemed almost easier if Cass did _not_ trust her. "The first thing to do is to get Daisy back into the home with Lizzie and Alison. Lizzie is all alone now, while Alison is at Ops. She's an independent old cuss, cooking for herself, won't accept any outside help." She sighed again. "I do want you to come up to Ops with me . . . but _someone_ has to stay and—see that Daisy is tactfully asked to go back to the Warren home."

"I can do it," said Helen firmly. She didn't sound happy, but there was relief in her voice. It had been a blow when she realized the cruelty of what she had done. Lizzie being alone weighed on her mind, now; she could hardly wait to get back home to Daisy. Love was a funny thing, she thought. Impulsively she slipped her arms around Cass and held her close. "I'm glad I talked to you," she said. She wanted to tell Cass how wonderful she was, but the right words would not come.

"I'll let you take that shower," Cass said, easing out of Helen's embrace, patting her cheek.

## Back at Home

Daisy was just about to leave for work when Helen arrived at the door. She stared at Helen for a second, and with a cry of pleasure flew towards her, as if into her arms. At the last second she held back, her face radiant with welcome and, yes, love.

Helen swept her into her arms, but held her tenderly. The way they felt about each other was such that a fierce hug seemed wrong. But the light touch was almost more unbearably erotic, under its veneer of restraint. Helen lightly brushed Daisy's lips with her own, and Daisy had to have felt the counterpart of the tingle she felt.

"You're back!" she breathed, reluctantly drawing back. Helen let go of her.

"Yes!"

"Wait!" said Daisy, and pulled out her phone. "I'll be a few minutes late!" she said in a low voice to whomever. She turned away, hunched over the phone, and asked very quietly, "May I have the morning off? Yes? Oh, thank you so much! I'll be there before lunch! Thanks!" She turned back. "You didn't say when you would be coming back!" There was a note of playful reproach, almost flirtation.

"I missed you too, love!"

At the last word, Daisy seemed to almost melt with pleasure.

"Yes, I missed you!" Daisy was flustered. If she could have had that embrace again, Helen thought with pride, she'd take it! "Come in, tell me everything!" She led the way inside and waited for Helen to sit. She had an interesting way of indicating a chair, which somehow acknowledged that the house was Helen's anyway, and that Daisy assumed no privileges in relation to it. "Lena missed you like crazy, she wanted to call you all the time, but I said no, it would be dangerous, what if you were going along an access way, or something, and, you're not seasoned with our ways, and you forget to turn off the phone—you could really hurt yourself!" She blushed. "It's only been a couple of days, but . . ."

Helen feasted her eyes on her, listening to her, feeling her happiness.

But there were serious matters to think about.

"How is Lizzie getting on?"

"Oh, she's fine," said Daisy, "she said she met you, and she told everyone exactly how she felt. Get out there and find out what there is to be seen, that's what she wants them to do!"

"But Daisy, she's all alone in the house!"

Daisy's face grew serious.

"I've begun to visit her. We went over every day, with the children." It dawned on Daisy exactly what Helen was thinking, and to her credit she took it in stride. Helen admired her intelligence. "I don't think she holds it against you, Helen. She's friendly and happy."

"Those kids are all what this ship will have of her when she's gone."

"You think we should go back," Daisy said, sounding resigned. No matter how different their thought-processes might be, they never had trouble communicating. Not when they halfway tried.

"What do _you_ think?"

For the first time she could remember, Helen saw Daisy look stubborn. She looked Helen in the eye, but did not answer.

"Daisy, say something! What right do I have, to keep those kids with me?"

"Do you want to send us away?"

It was said in a tiny voice. There was no accusation in it. It had Daisy's relationship to Helen in the sound of it. Helen loved it, and hated it all at once. It was like a dog, offering its throat.

Helen frowned. "Send you away? Daisy . . . is there no other way? Is there some way Alison and Lizzie can enjoy having you and the children in the same house with them, and _I_ can enjoy having you and the children? Must it be like Solomon: slice you down the middle?"

Daisy's eyes lit up. "You'll come with us?" she asked, as if not quite trusting her inference.

Helen took a deep breath. What an incredible trap it had become. "I think I'd like to come with you—at least for a while. I'll miss—I'll miss you . . . I'll miss the children . . . Oh Daisy, if you would only go out, make more friends; I feel like . . ." Oh God, this was getting out of hand. Daisy would think . . .

"I understand," she said softly, dropping her sad eyes. She heaved an enormous sigh. "This has been very difficult for you. I . . . convinced myself I was helping you, pretending that you were helping _me_ , but I knew all the time, I think I knew in my heart of hearts, it was you who kept me alive. _Really_ alive. I would have hung on, for the kids. But with you I was happier than I could have dreamed of being, after Bobby—went away. I've been clinging to you. I've been saying: _Lena_ misses you, _Lena_ loves you. Who was I deceiving?"

" _Daisy!_ " Helen cried out in agony. "Don't _talk_ like that!" Helen felt almost paralyzed with anguish.

"I'm just saying that—I recognize what you have done for me, Helen!"

"You make it sound as though I did it all out of pity! It wasn't pity, Daisy, it was far more than that!"

"But—but Helen, I know what you need, and I know that I can't take so much from you without giving something back!"

Helen got to her feet and put her arms around Daisy and held her tight. She couldn't see Daisy's face, but she felt relaxed in Helen's arms, unresisting.

"You don't owe me anything, love," Helen told her, chastised. "Everything I have wanted from you, you have given me." Helen heard the words come out of her mouth, and she marveled.

Helen eased her grip on Daisy in stages, but simply could not let go. She was trembling, her nerves all a-jangle. Daisy brought up her hands, which had hung limp at her side, and stroked Helen's arms, trying to comfort her.

"Let's go talk to Lizzie," Helen suggested. She felt weak. She told Daisy so. "It's just my feelings, that's all. They're all jumbled up," she explained. "Lizzie would understand."

"I'm sorry to have put you through this!"

Love meant never having to say you're sorry. Helen was feeling like a bowl of jelly, and she didn't feel competent to argue with Daisy. At times like this, you threw yourself on the mercy of your friends, and let them be the heroes. If they weren't up to it, at least they were friends.

Helen dragged herself to the door, and Daisy followed. She looked cute as a button in her nurse's uniform. Daisy had a lovely unique gait, as sinuous as Melanie's fluid motion.

"What was it like to be married? Did you tell Bobby all your secrets?" Helen asked lightly. It was a question Helen wanted to ask all happily married couples.

"Mostly," said Daisy. It seemed to cost her something to be patient with Helen, or at least not to show it. "I had my secrets, I suppose."

Helen took a deep breath. "I wish there was someone to whom I could say everything that I feel, and not worry about the consequences," she said, regretting the words the moment they were out. It was _such_ a little-girl thing to say; _everyone_ felt that way. What was _wrong_ with her?

They walked along in silence for a while. Helen thought about the angel she had made for herself the previous night. What must her little angel be thinking, if she could see all this? I'm being self-indulgent, Helen thought. I can't have everything. And Daisy was absorbed in her own thoughts, frowning to herself, her face screwed up in unhappy concentration. A lot of why I love her is because she looks so much like Lena, Helen told herself. Or maybe it's the other way round.

"What if we told each other stuff, and we began to hate each other?"

Helen was caught off guard for the umpteenth time.

"I'll take the risk," Helen said, her heart pounding.

"You're very confident about me, I can tell. You think I don't shock easy!"

There was a thin smile on Daisy's face, and the faintest bit of color, and Helen's heart sang a joyful hallelujah! Whatever they were to each other, it was almost as wonderful as being in love.

"I don't want to over-analyze how I feel about you," Helen said gravely. "It's bad luck. I think you know I love you very much." Daisy nodded. Helen even loved the way she nodded. "Come on, let's not look like lovesick puppies!"

Daisy smiled.

Lizzie was delighted to have visitors.

"You go first," Daisy said to Helen.

"No, you!" insisted Helen.

"Please, you start, and I'll join in!"

"What is it with you two?" Lizzie asked with a grin, looking from one to the other. Whatever she guessed, she would be wrong, Helen thought.

Helen made up her mind to lead the discussion.

"Do you have room for all of us to move in here?"

"Why, what has happened?" Lizzie asked, full of concern. Daisy, caught off-guard, let her eyes grow round with alarm. Helen forestalled any remark from her.

"When I encouraged them to come to live with me, I hadn't thought it out. Alison and you deserve to have the little ones with you. These are such wonderful years, to watch them grow! When I was going round with Alison I began to miss them, and I just realized that Alison must miss them even more."

Lizzie looked at Daisy with raised eyebrows.

"You feel the same way?" She asked Daisy. Daisy nodded. "In spite of our little fight?"

"I was being over-sensitive," Daisy said, swallowing her pride. "Lizzie, don't go into details. I think it's important for Lena to spend as much time with you as she can, and if Helen is here, she'll be here. Helen and I should have both thought about the consequences of taking them out of this house."

"So we need four rooms, one for each of you. Let's go see how we can do this."

Helen and Daisy fixed a snack together, and sat down to eat it. Daisy asked if Helen had been taking her medicine, and Helen realized with a start that she hadn't. "Stay healthy, if not for me, for the children!" she said, angrily. Helen nodded. It was wonderful that there was someone who would be furious at her if she died of negligence. They went around the apartment, picking up a little, sorting through the laundry, making grocery lists, checking the messages.

It was while she was unpacking her knapsack that Helen found the little flower. It was a little white flower, crushed and faded, but it had lent its fragrance to Helen's clothes. How had it gotten in there? Perhaps it was Melanie. Perhaps one of the little girls had mischievously slipped it in. Could children show such initiative?

It was like rolling down a hill. Helen simply could no longer concentrate on anything else. Pleading exhaustion, she shut herself in her room with the lights off, and waited for Daisy to go to work.

Quite untypically, Daisy knocked at her door. Before Helen could answer, she quietly backed in, giving Helen a chance to get decent.

"I'm off to work," she said softly, turning around.

"Okay," Helen said.

"The kids will be in at around two. It's the weekend."

"I can manage!"

"I've been sending them to Lizzie, but since you're here—at least for the afternoon?—I've sent word that they should come home and see you first."

This was another eerie thing; the way Daisy insisted that the children accord Helen the severe respect that was the traditional privilege of the father of the family. Helen loved it; it made her feel wonderful. It was the _way_ Daisy did it.

Helen was distracted for a couple of seconds, and Daisy was gone; she had completely missed the last bit of what Daisy had told her. The front door closed softly. She was alone.

She called Melanie's number.

There was no answer for a long time. Helen let it ring, hypnotized by the sound. It was a reminder of her powerlessness. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard Melanie's voice, a little breathless.

"Hello?"

Helen stammered into the phone, something vague about having thought of Melanie, and wanting to call her.

"You!" said Melanie, almost in a whisper.

Helen found herself silently focusing her feelings to Melanie across the distance to the other segment. It was a multitude of feelings, a mixture of longing and desire, and indecision.

"Did you find the flower?"

"So you _did_ put it in!"

"Yes," she admitted. "I thought you would never call."

"Why did you want me to call?"

Suddenly the phone went silent. She had hung up. Helen put the phone down angrily.

She was still in bed, when the three children burst into the house. Benny was a lot noisier than he had been, while Lena was as soft-voiced as always. And in-between, she could hear Summer's lower tones, a little more animated than she remembered them.

"Hallo!" exclaimed Summer, the first to push open the door and look inside. Beside her stood Lena, looking very happy indeed, and pushing his head under her arm, Benny, with a huge grin on his face.

All three started talking at once. Ben wanted to know if she had brought presents. Summer asked for news about the new discovery. Lena told Helen something about the music lessons, which had been conducted by Beatrice while Helen was away.

Lena walked over, as Helen sat up in bed. Helen's eyes were sticky with tears, and Lena was the first to notice. Her smile disappeared, and a look of concern filled her eyes. "Is something wrong?" she asked very softly. Summer heard it at the door, and leaned round. Benny was still oblivious. To his credit, though, he only looked round the room, without rifling through Helen's bag. Lena came closer, and sat on the edge of the bed.

Lena was gradually acquiring a knowledge of Helen's feelings, and the things that affected them. She took Helen's hand, offering silent comfort, and Helen felt her sadness melt away. Just the fact that Lena cared seemed to always make her happy. She might be just as sad, but it seemed to matter a lot less. She thanked Lena with her eyes, and quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe them.

"We're going to move in with your grandmother," Helen said.

"Are we?" asked Benny. "Today?"

"That will be good," said Lena. "Lizzie is getting old."

Helen laughed, with Summer joining in with a grin. Lizzie had been old for decades. Benny hurried off, presumably to put his stuff together.

They got the move started. Lizzie was clearly very pleased, and bustled about getting rooms ready, and moving things into storage. It was nothing less than miraculous, how the back ends of houses could be moved in such a way that there was more space or less. A pair of senior citizens who lived round the other side had given two rooms to Lizzie, and Helen and the kids helped them to move things out of the rooms, and into another room they had borrowed from yet another neighbor.

The children and Helen were moved all the way to the back. Helen said she would be fine there; if she moved back into the apartment, it would cause the least disruption.

It was only when they finally headed out to the music center that Helen finally learned that, indeed, there was a concert grand on the ship. The majestic instrument stood against the back wall, partially dismantled, wrapped in layers of fabric and packing.

"How . . . what . . ."

"Lizzie knew where it was!" said Lena, grinning. "The Old Captain had put it on board for you, and Lizzie knew. They got it for you!"

"But _when_ . . ."

"Soon as you went with Alison," said Summer. "I think it was a planned surprise. It looks in terrible shape, doesn't it?"

By that time, a large group of students had gathered round, and Helen turned to them and greeted them. It was getting close to chorus rehearsal, and Helen could see and hear various parts rehearsing tricky bits at keyboards in different corners of the large room. Thanks to Beatrice and Lucy and Frank, the Collegium and the music center had taken on a life of its own. Within a year or two, Helen believed, a tradition of music would be well enough established that she would no longer be really essential to its continued health. Which means, she thought, she _could_ get involved with any colonization plans for the planet.

The arrival of Beatrice and some of the older students pulled Helen out of her little reverie. Summer was in the chorus, though Lena had been deemed a little too young to take the grueling schedule of rehearsals. She didn't care; she sang along softly as she waited for her friend, all arms and legs and hair. Her hair was long now, a chestnut mane of straight, silky stuff that everyone loved to play with. Little girls often braided it and re-braided it, while Lena blissfully sang.

Over in Ocean, Melanie pulled herself together and got about making supper for herself and the kids. She decided to make a large bowl of stew they could eat for several days. She needed time to sit down and think; running off to the dance club was a little irresponsible, and the babysitter was available a lot less than before. Maya was only a baby, still, and Marissa not old enough to look after her sister.

Maya sat in her high seat and babbled to herself, while Marissa tried to help her mother. Standing on a stool, she washed the few plates that were in the sink, and carefully put them in the drying rack.

She was a quiet child, and would not usually begin a conversation, but today she did.

"What is the name of that lady who was here yesterday?" she asked, looking at her mother.

"Helen," said Melanie.

"Oh, yes," she said, "Helen."

"You knew that. She told you her name."

"I forgot," said Marissa, a little anxiously. Her mother's moodiness worried her.

"Tonight, sweetheart," she said softly, "I'm . . ."

She had spoken before she had quite decided what she wanted to say. Marissa watched her expectantly. Maya stopped her babbling and looked up and smiled. "Tonight maybe I'll stay home with you girls," she said. Maybe they could dance together, the three of them.

# Year 73: Mission to a star

"It's solid," said Christopher Ramone, "and it's large. There are no moons, but there is a ring. This means we can mine it."

"What's the composition?"

"Iron, principally, aluminum, silicon, the kind of thing you find on Mars." Ramone looked very confident.

Samsudeen shook his head. "It could be something quite different." His eyes glinted with excitement, as it went from face to face. Ramone looked resigned as Samsudeen got up to steam. This was the trouble with scientists; they needed to make tests, otherwise they tended to get a little too imaginative. "We're looking at a system infinitely older than the Solar System! The brightness of the star is so low that it would have been completely invisible from Earth, and that's why we've had to name it ourselves! Normally we could never study something like this, and we have only the vaguest ideas what the planet will be like. Iron is a fair guess, but it could be any kind of rocky material, like the asteroids, or frozen water— _anything!_ It's pointless trying to guess!"

"Can't we laser a hole in the thing, and do a spectrographic analysis of the vapor?" asked Cass, looking intensely embarrassed. She knew experts hated to be told what to do.

"Within a couple of years," said Chris, "not now. And not from the Voyager. Maybe from the cutter."

Alison looked thoughtfully at the path of the Voyager, marked on map on the table. They were turning more slowly than they had wanted to. There was a team doing theoretical optimizing, another team doing a simulation, and a third team managing the ship. It had been turned infinitesimally, until the ship was facing back the way they came, and a little towards the star. They were slowing down and heading in as slowly as they had sped up all these years. Cass refused to allow more juice to be used to slow down. She had said that the cutter could have as large an engine as they could manage, and plenty of fuel. It was much more reasonable to spend fuel on a small vessel than on the enormous Voyager.

"Allie?"

"Yup!"

"First, tell us about the cutter."

Everyone's eyes were on Alison. She asked for so little help, and kept the complaints to such a minimum that they were all hungry for news.

"We took the thing completely apart, and put it together again. It was easy." She described how they had first put on armor and protective shielding, not expecting hostility, but for radiation and debris, and things like that. "Then, we expanded the engines." They looked at her expectantly. The biggest problem they faced was how to get a really powerful exploratory vehicle in and out fast enough to rendezvous with the Voyager while it whizzed past the star. "It all depends on whether the cutter can scoop up enough matter to keep moving fast enough to overtake us."

"Why not simply send it out with enough fuel to catch us up?"

"The more fuel, the slower it becomes. It's all extra mass!"

"It seems almost better to slow the ship down to orbital speed, so that there will be no problem. Is this mad rush worth it?" That was Sita, Anu's mother.

"At our present speed, we will make the next closest system in another 150 years. If we slow down, it will be 220 years."

"In either case, we won't be alive. Why don't we commit to an injection orbit now, and stop juggling all the possibilities at once and driving ourselves crazy? We go into orbit around the planet or the star, and we develop our mining technology, make repairs and improvements to our drives, teach a new generation what life near a planet is like! In less than seventy years we could be back at speed!"

There was a brief pause while they considered that. It was the choice between making a high-speed beeline to the unknown, with the accompanying inability to interact and invest in star-systems they encountered on route. Humankind was a short-lived species, and their vitality, the psychology of the colony population, was ultimately an unknown factor. Cass had seen the deterioration of the collective mental health of the ship, and reviving Helen had dramatically brought that around. But how many times could you use a single trick?

The original colonists and crew of the ship were highly motivated individuals, mentally stable, well-adjusted, and balanced. But all that had been relative to life on Earth. Those same attributes relative to life cutoff from their fellow-man, surrounded by the black night of space, far from a sun, shut in with a small population of others, had been a complete unknown. Now, seventy years later, little more was known. There was a small crew of psychologists on board, but they were not a confident lot. Indeed, Cass was one herself. For a while they had invented theories pertinent to their special situation, but had soon given up. It was too tempting to generalize based on a few cases.

Cass cleared her throat, and took charge of the discussion. She was beginning to think clearly again, and was beginning to see how Helen fit into the long-term mission of the ship, such as it was, a little more clearly. Unfortunately, these had been ideas that hadn't crystallized yet in her mind, and so were slow in their articulation. Still, she presented their ultimate problem as not so much a technological one as a psychological one; a matter of survival on the ship, not of success when they arrived at the planet that they were seeking.

"The mission, in the abstract, may be an important part of the ideological background for all of us. It may be a context for our lives. Would we want to live and work the way we do, if there was not this aim, of colonizing another planet somewhere? But as I see it, to live healthy lives on this ship, keeping alive the parts of our culture that makes living good and wonderful and interesting, _that's_ the real problem.

"We did not leave with a known destination in mind. It was a trajectory with a high probability of encountering a planet. It is, in effect, an open-ended exploration by a small planet. We are a small planet now. There is no hurry to get anywhere. We must develop, and prosper, and keep our technology and our culture and our genes alive and healthy right on this ship."

"In that case, we should decelerate, and invest fully in the star system!" said Ramone.

"All right, what happens once we leave here, with very likely a larger, expanded ship, with maybe a larger drive? Maybe we build an expanded workshop, or a kind of space-dock, and make improvements to the ship. Then we head out again. We accelerate, with all the fuel we can take with us, and we find another star. What do we do then? What do those who are in charge then do?"

"Decelerate again. It must become a way of life, Greg. Each time it happens, a different generation has a chance of gaining planetary skills. Let's face it; this is the only process that is available, since the faster-than-light travel idea never materialized!" Cass looked around, and to her relief saw acceptance in the faces. These were intelligent people, among the most intelligent on board. Perhaps she was not the only one to have been thinking on these lines. But until Helen had come along, life on the ship did not seem very worth living.

It had been a while since Alison had spoken. She spoke up now.

"I'm concerned about the danger of exploration. We can't afford a single life. Even with the new procedure of saving tissue from everyone on the ship, I don't want to risk any lives at all. Our population is small, too small to risk anyone. We've got a very critically small gene pool."

"Why don't we send _clones?_ "

Initially, there was shock. _Clones?_

But after a while, it seemed the best idea. In effect, they would be identical copies of existing people, the technology for which was available already. There had been little advance in the sciences on board ship, but cloning was well understood now. The cloning team was headed by Sheila Connors, a quiet woman who hardly left her laboratory, but she had raised two children, clones of herself, who were now in their twenties. They were not very remarkable, except that they looked and acted very much like Sheila in her youth. Sheila was working on forced growth now, a method of forcing a clone to maturity artificially. It was being attempted on laboratory animals, and that was as far as it had gotten.

Discussion proceeded on those lines, and though the topics ranged far and wide, little decisions were made and noted, so that as the window of opportunity approached, there were things that were set in motion, preparing for their encounter with the star and its planet.

## Life with Lizzie

As Helen and Daisy moved back into the Warren home, all they needed was to have Alison back. They were watching a movie when Alison arrived from Ops, looking tired and worried.

"Surprise!" called out Lena and Ben, when their grandmother walked in the door.

Alison smiled, happily.

"What a lovely surprise!" She hugged everyone in turn, starting with Ben, and ending with her mother. "How long have you been waiting for me?"

"You don't understand," said Lizzie. She told Alison that they had moved in.

" _Already?_ I knew you were planning it!"

"Wanna see?" asked Helen, pleased. Daisy had dressed in a—for her—sexy outfit of a short skirt and top, and Helen had begun to hope that maybe she would do more than smile at Helen all the time. All evening they had all had a wonderful time, and she, Helen, in particular had been very pleased at seeing that Lizzie had truly enjoyed the company of the children, and even Daisy. Somehow Helen had been given the credit for getting them all back together, quite undeservedly, since she had basically caused the split in the first place. But they were a remarkable family, and Helen was satisfied to take as much of their company as she could get. And all evening Daisy had stuck close to Helen, something Helen found she liked a lot.

Alison noticed. They had sat round Alison and talked, while she had supper, and then they had a glass of cider. It was as though coming back to the extended family, Daisy asserted her mysterious relationship to Helen with more determination.

Shortly thereafter, they went to bed. It was already eleven, way past the children's bedtime, and Benny was losing his battle to keep his eyes open. Helen smiled at him indulgently. He had become more friendly with Helen, quizzing her about the other segments. In their minds, these places were incredibly far away, while in fact, certain parts of Ocean were much closer to them than certain parts of Temperate. Helen had carelessly suggested that she might be able to take Ben over to Ocean for a visit, and he hadn't forgotten it. Now he was seated close to Helen, on her other side, as if making sure she wouldn't leave without him.

Helen was in the dark, watching the door. It opened, and Helen's heart began to beat faster. Soon Daisy and she were holding each other tight, and they began to kiss passionately. They made love slow and easy, and when Helen had felt herself bloom with one, single intense orgasm, she felt Daisy relax against her, soft and clinging. Helen looked into the soft grey eyes, and said, I love you. Daisy smiled, and said something unintelligible.

"What did you say?" Helen asked, feeling embarrassed. A horrible suspicion came over her, and was confirmed as the images faded, and she woke up. But her nightie was all wet and sticky. Helen sighed, and got up to clean herself and change her clothes.

Life settled slowly back into a kind of rhythm. Helen took back her classes, energized by her adventure. There were now around fifteen music scholars left. The others had directed their energies into exploring aspects of music that did not require formal study. There was a choir of around twenty-five, including most of the scholars, and a smaller choir of about 12 specialists.

Over the year, Helen, Emil and the Hippies had slowly made a stockpile of some fifteen strings—violins, violas, cellos and basses. There were half a dozen flutes and an oboe being shared among a number of students, and a trumpet and a horn were being worked on, with help from the ship's metal workshop. Helen had little knowledge of brass instruments, except that she knew what they were capable of. But the ship's database had plenty of information on the specification of the various types of brass instruments. Manufacturing details had to be inferred from the photographs.

Frank's music appreciation classes drew hosts of participants, both children and adults. Some of the older students who were talented in that way were trained to take over Helen's and Beatrice's places in the schools. A couple from Ocean was back there, now, teaching a collection of songs Helen had put together for grade-school-aged children.

Helen and Emil and a small team of workers slowly put together the beautiful 7-foot grand piano. It was unplayable for weeks after it had been assembled according to the instructions. Once the wood had become stabilized to the conditions of the ship, and Helen and Emil had judiciously lubricated the parts, the piano came alive slowly.

Everyone wanted to play it, and Helen gave permission cautiously. It was a precious thing, and Helen was inclined to be jealous of it. But as she grew accustomed to having it, and it lost its novelty in the eyes of the students, she allowed anyone who requested it a half-hour of practice. As she had expected, interest fell off once everyone had their half-hour on the instrument. To those who had become accustomed to the soft resistance of synthetic keyboards, pressing the keys of the concert grand was too much work. But Helen, Lucy, and a few others began to rehearse regularly, drawing an audience who sat in the back of the auditorium and listened.

During the year since Helen had been revived, she had given only two concerts. Now she realized that the best way to get maximum impact from all the activity they had been engaged in was to give a series of concerts, at least once a week. The concerts started in mid-September, and by the fourth week, they had decided to perform in the other segments. Their repertoire included some Mozart and some Bach, in fact anything that could be performed without brass.

Personally, Helen found herself changing in subtle ways. Her hair had re-grown to its former great length, well below her waist. She had always had luxurious hair, and it seemed to grow beautifully on board ship. Her running strengthened her legs and her abdomen, and her figure took on a slim new silhouette.

Her dreams of Daisy returned every night, and Helen grew accustomed to having them. Daisy meanwhile began occasionally to indicate to Helen, with a glance or a touch, that there was something between them.

It was just enough to bother Lena. One Monday, they found themselves alone together. Ben had been invited out to visit friends, and Summer had a doctor's appointment. Lena, gradually becoming conscious of the dynamics of human relationships had begun to wonder about various things. She had told Helen a few days earlier that there were two girls in her school who were just a little _too_ fond of each other. Helen had pointed out that she and Summer were very good friends. Lena had snorted impatiently, and said that was nothing; these girls kissed each other _on the mouth._ She and Summer never did _that_. Summer wasn't one for kissing anyway, she added.

This day Lena had a question for Helen. They had just made themselves some sandwiches, so that they wouldn't get hungry during choir practice. Aunt Helen had to have food.

"Mama is always touching me," she complained once to Helen. "And you, too!"

Helen blushed briefly. "Not always; just now and again. It's just a sign of affection, that's all, darling. Look, if a mother can't show her daughter a little affection, who can?"

"Well, I guess she can cuddle me a little. But why should she touch _you_ all the time? She acts like she's _your_ mother, too!" Lena looked vaguely embarrassed, but not as yet upset.

"Well," said Helen, "I kind of like it. I don't mind; I think she's sweet!"

"Why don't you get married, Auntie Helen? And Mama . . . I guess _she_ should look at guys, too."

"I won't marry just because someone thinks I _ought_ to marry," Helen said peaceably. "If I love a man so much that I want to be with him as husband and wife, _then_ I'll marry him," she added.

"What about Frank?"

Helen shrugged and smiled. "He's very nice, love, but . . . we're just good friends, that's all! Can you really see us married? To leave you all, and go live with Frank?"

Lena's eyes widened. She shook her head quickly in denial. Helen's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't easy to tell what was in Lena's mind anymore, and hadn't been for a couple of months. She was a lot less transparent than she had been a year ago. Her quick response, therefore, denying the wisdom or the desirability of having Helen marry and move out was gratifying.

"You should never marry," she said earnestly.

"Why not?" That was a little too extreme.

"There really isn't anyone qualified," said Lena. "And I don't want you to leave us. Mama would be upset, and Ben and Grandma, they would be all upset."

Helen smiled. She felt the tears sting her eyes, but she managed to be cool. "That means a lot to me, Lena. I love you too!"

Lena glowed briefly. But she was too focused to be easily distracted by any idea from the issues she had wanted to address. Even if the idea was one close to her heart.

"Can I ask you something Aunt Helen? And you mustn't say a word to anyone. To _anyone!_ Okay?" Helen nodded. It sounded like trouble. "Do you think . . . maybe . . . Mama wants to, you know, be with you like . . . like Pattie and Jennifer?" Pattie and Jennifer were the two girls who kissed in school.

"Remind me again, who are these two?" Helen asked, to buy herself a little time.

" _You_ know, the girls who kiss at school!"

Helen frowned. "What else do they do?"

"They talk for hours, and sit and giggle together!"

"But girls do that anyway," Helen said, a little doubtfully. "They seem pretty harmless, to me!"

"It's harmless, all right," Lena admitted. "But, isn't it kinda disgusting?"

Helen took a deep breath.

"Lena—I have to be honest with you. And you have to be honest with yourself. What I am going to tell you could mean the end of our friendship. So I must be careful."

"What? What's the matter? Why are you upset, Auntie Helen?"

"I'm not upset," Helen said, feeling very thoroughly upset indeed. "You know Pattie and Jennifer? Well, there are lots of ladies and girls who prefer to kiss other ladies. Some of them just can't take a liking to boys or men, and they love girls. That's all there is to it."

Lena looked thoughtful.

"You mean—Patti is not just being disgusting?"

Helen thought for a second.

"Well . . . she _might_ be. But she _probably_ isn't. Does she really like Jennifer, or—are they just jokers?"

Lena cocked her head, her eyes unfocused. " _Pattie_ is a joker," she admitted. "Jennifer never looks at anybody. I don't know anything about her. She never talks to anyone."

"Does everybody dislike them, or are they pretty popular?"

Lena shook her head. Jennifer was something of an outcast, while Pattie was on the border of being accepted as a comic. The girls liked Pattie because she made jokes about everything. Mr. Woolley didn't like her because she was hard to discipline. What did _Lena_ think?

Lena had toed the party line. Pattie was obnoxious, and Lena was a polite, well-behaved girl. She simply did not like the fact that Pattie went out of her way to be disruptive. After all, Summer was bright and a kind of non-conformist. But Summer didn't misbehave the way Pattie did.

Helen sighed. "I know it's hard for you to be tolerant, darling," she said. "But do me a favor, and study them. Find out how Pattie treats Jennifer. I'd like to know if she tries to humiliate her." Lena nodded. It was almost like spying. "I feel sorry for Jennifer. Maybe Pattie does, too."

"It's just _too_ much," Lena said, vaguely annoyed. Helen thought her little frown was cute. "It's gone beyond a joke."

"What do you want to do?" Helen asked her directly. "Do you think someone should set Pattie straight? Do you think Jennifer maybe hates to get kissed like that in front of everybody?"

Lena looked a little alarmed.

"Would you like me to have a word with Pattie?" asked Helen.

Lena's eyes opened wide. "Oh no! You shouldn't, Aunt Helen. Maybe Summer would talk to her. It's better if a kid talks to her!"

Helen was very impressed. She wondered whether Summer would have the guts. Whatever happened, Lena showed a fascination with teenage psychology, and it was a sign of intelligence. It seemed that the tolerance of bisexuality among the Dropouts was by no means universal. Or, perhaps, Helen's neighborhood was particularly conservative.

Helen asked Daisy, when she came home.

"Is there a lot of homophobia on the ship? Because when I was at Camp Severin, sex experimentation among same-sex groups was considered no big deal."

Daisy blushed. "This area is pretty old-fashioned," she admitted. "It's a very exclusive neighborhood, as you know, which is why there is such a demand to live here. They call this place Maple Close, and it's one of the most old-fashioned places on the ship."

"I did _not_ know," Helen said. "I thought it was the only residential area, other than where Cass lived. Are there others?"

"Why, weren't you taken around and shown the segment?"

"Well, I run all the way round it once every day, but . . . no, I guess I haven't really been given the grand tour. I've seen some of Ocean and Tropical, but not Temperate."

Daisy liked to have tea as soon as she got home, and Helen had it ready. She poured, while Daisy sank into a chair. It seemed that even on board ship, nurses and paramedics earned their living the hard way.

Helen mixed the tea the way Daisy liked it, and brought it to her. As Daisy sipped, Helen kneaded the knots out of her shoulders. They had progressed that far.

"Lena is concerned about a couple of older girls who have been kissing in public at school."

"Oh Jeeze," said Daisy. She leaned into Helen's hands.

"I asked her to study the two girls and report back to me whether the quieter one is being victimized."

"Oh Helen, don't get her involved in such things! She's so little, and innocent! There's plenty of time for her to have to confront deviant sexuality . . . at least, alternate lifestyles."

Helen swallowed the remark about deviant sexuality. Daisy could not possibly consider homosexuality as a perversion. Or could she? My god, what century _was_ this? She took her hands away smoothly from Daisy's shoulders, not appearing to snatch them.

"This is the time, Daisy. She's twelve. She was talking to me, giving me all kinds of insights into the psychology of the other kids at school. She's too bright to have to deal with these ideas all on her own!"

Daisy turned to look at Helen. Helen noticed how pretty and large her blue-grey eyes were. They were keenly intelligent. Daisy did not use her eyes as a weapon of seduction, at least not deliberately. Her communication was all with words, and with her smile. She was not a flirt, though sometimes she was almost flirtatious unconsciously.

Helen was shocked at her next words.

"I wish you would socialize more, Helen! We must find you a young man, with suitable interests! Your social life is a little restricted; I mean, it's just us, and your students!"

"A young _man?_ What made you think I want a young man, let alone anyone?"

"Why, to marry, have children . . . I dream of seeing you have a child! Wouldn't you like to have a child of your own?"

Her knees felt limp. Helen sank to a seat.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Helen said. Where to begin? "Having a child for myself never entered into my considerations, I must admit. I was coming to terms with the fact that I was probably _not_ going to have a child with anyone I fell in love with."

"Why not?" Daisy exclaimed, her face creased with the effort of trying to understand.

Helen steeled herself.

"Because I only fall in love with _women_."

Daisy looked at her, her mouth agape, and Helen stared back at her, not believing there could have been any doubt about the facts.

"You, too?" she whispered.

It was as though a choir was singing in Helen's ears. She could hardly believe what she had heard.

Instead, Helen just nodded. "I discovered it when I was just fifteen," she said. "And all this time, I thought you knew!"

"I thought you were like me, trying to fight it."

"Why fight it, when . . . it could be so beautiful?"

It was late afternoon, and there was a stillness in the air. Far away, they could hear Lizzie talking to someone, but it was as though a magical screen gave them privacy.

"You have no idea," Daisy said, her voice heavy, "how I long to give you what you want!" At that moment Daisy looked so lovely in her agony and her love for Helen that Helen could have cheerfully died. "But I can't!"

"Why?"

"I don't know . . . Lena couldn't deal with it. Neither could Ben. Not yet."

"We could hide it from them!"

Daisy shook her head, looking away. "You can never hide anything from anybody. Neither can I."

Helen called Melanie a couple more times. Both times, Melanie hung up on Helen. Each time, it seemed to Helen that there was just a hint that Melanie would have liked to talk. But was it just wishful thinking?

One day she told Daisy that she wanted to go over to Ocean.

"I'll be back quick enough not to be missed," she promised. Can you cover for me?"

"Why do you want to go there?"

"To meet someone."

"Is it a girl?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"Are you doing this to hurt me?"

"No," Helen said, with feeling. She made no move to touch Daisy. "I didn't want to sneak around your back, Daisy. I thought this would hurt you less."

"What is she like?"

Helen shrugged. Daisy seemed really determined to know. Helen went into her room and brought out a piece of paper on which she had drawn the picture of a lovely nude girl. Daisy took it with a gasp of surprise.

"Did you draw this?"

"Yes."

"It's incredible," she breathed. "You're a wonderful artist."

Helen nodded. Finally Daisy let her go, on condition Helen gave her the picture. For the first time she was almost flirtatious with Helen. It was times like this that were hardest to bear, where if Daisy had been anyone else, Helen would have taken her in her arms and made love to her. This night they parted without touching.

## Return to Ocean

Helen hurried out to the elevator, out by the access tubes as fast as she could, down by elevator again. It took, all together, just about an hour. The sights and sounds of Ocean at night got her pulses racing faster than ever. She headed straight for Melanie's little beach house. Inside, the television was on, and Helen knocked. And Melanie stood there, far more beautiful in the flesh than Helen had imagined her for more than a month.

In a moment they were in each other's arms, kissing like teenagers in the throes of passion. As they broke apart to breathe, Helen demanded, "Why did you hang up on me?" and burst into tears. She had not planned to, but she was so frustrated that she couldn't help it. Melanie was also crying, and the little girls were looking on half happy, but upset at the crying.

"May I come in?" Helen asked politely, when she had a little more control of her voice.

"Yes," said Melanie, sighing. Helen took the offered seat, and greeted the children, seating them in her lap, letting the feel of their little bodies against her own fill her with peace. Melanie watched all this with shining eyes. Both the girls had large heads, with silky black hair, and high foreheads. The three of them looked like sisters.

A little later, they were all in bed, while Helen and Melanie made love. It felt strange, but Melanie said it would be all right, as long as they didn't get very rough. "They don't understand rough sex," she said.

Helen had wanted to test her feelings. Was it Melanie's beauty that drew her, or was there something more? Certainly, when Helen saw her naked once again, she remembered how she had responded to that before. But afterwards, as they lay side by side, with the little ones climbing all over them, as playful as puppies, they talked, and Helen felt the tug of Melanie's personality. The intelligence, the assertiveness, the compassion, the humor.

Helen had to tell her everything about Daisy and Lena, all over again. She was insatiable for details of Helen's life. It wasn't that her own life was dull, but it was uneventful compared to all the activity of the Warren household, and the Collegium, and everything Helen did.

The kids fell asleep, and they made love once more.

Helen woke, to find Melanie watching her intently. The large brown eyes looked upset, almost angry.

"You're up," she said shortly, in a low voice. "Come on, quietly. I'll fix you something to eat before you go." Lightly as a feather—she was not a delicately-built girl, like Daisy, but she could move like one—she was over Helen and little Marissa, stepping lightly onto the floor, grabbing a brightly-colored silky robe that hung on a peg near the bed. Helen got out of bed a little more deliberately, arranging the pillows next to each of the children. Melanie smiled as she watched while she tied up her robe. She handed Helen a similar robe.

"Where did you get these?" Helen asked in a whisper.

"This was my mother's. That one I bought for you a couple of weeks ago." She blushed and turned away as she said it.

"What's the hurry?" Helen grumbled.

"Hurry?" she snapped. "I don't want the children to be up when you leave, that's why! They were so upset the last time!"

She got busy, pulling things out of the refrigerator, forgetting her own instructions of a few seconds earlier and making a little more noise than was necessary. Helen had always hated that when any of her friends and family did it when they were annoyed, and now here was Melanie doing it. There was fresh fruit. Very few fruit were grown in Temperate, mainly grapes, apples and pears. Oranges, bananas, pineapples, all those luscious fruits were grown in Ocean and Tropical. Helen's mouth watered; she was hungry. Suddenly she became depressed. Tears filled her eyes. She got up and hurried to the bathroom.

"What's the matter?" Melanie asked, when she came back. Helen sniffed and did not answer. Melanie made her feel like a young girl, all off-balance with desire and wanting.

"Why did you come back?" Melanie asked in a softer voice, her eyes on her work. Her knives were kept very sharp, and she did not want to cut herself this morning, of all mornings.

"It has to be obvious. I wanted you!"

Melanie stopped cutting, and Helen smothered a gasp. Melanie looked up at her.

"I'm not a snack, Dr. Nordstrom. Not for you."

Helen rested her head on her hands. _Come on_ , she thought to herself, _think!_ But nothing came. She was in love with two women, and she could not leave one for the other. One of them would never come out and say that she wanted Helen. The other told her all the time: _be mine, or leave me alone._

"Please, don't be harsh. If, someday, I give up everything back home, and come to live with you, would you want me to remember the words you use?"

Melanie was already flushed, now she became positively red with anger. "Why speculate? You'll never do it."

Helen was getting very upset. She hated how Melanie was driving herself to hostility.

The food was ready. Melanie filled a bowl, and pushed it towards Helen. Helen was so hungry, she simply had to eat. The fruit almost choked her, going down. She was too upset to eat, and too hungry not to eat. Large tears rolled down her cheeks and into the bowl of fruit.

Melanie sniffed loudly, and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Anyway," she said, "I've been called up. I'm going."

"What?"

"I've got to go back for classes, and then I . . . I have to go out on the mission to the Star. And there's a planet. And you're not to tell anyone."

"You're going?"

Melanie nodded slowly. "I'm second science officer!" She couldn't help smiling at Helen, her pride welling out, in spite of her frustration.

"But . . . what about the children?"

Melanie hung her head.

"There's time, anyway. Things aren't ready. I have to make arrangements. Very carefully."

"What do you mean?"

Melanie told Helen awkwardly that it was essentially a suicide mission. The probability that they would all return alive was low. The probability that they would all return in good health was lower; there was a certain amount of radiation, and it was doubtful that the crew could keep shielded carefully enough to prevent radiation poisoning.

"No! You're not to go!" Helen said firmly, her lip quivering. "I won't allow it!" She didn't raise her voice, but Melanie heard an unfamiliar tone of determination in it. She cocked her head, studying Helen with interest. Could this crisis drive her to a decision that she had been avoiding? "I'll talk to someone. I know Cass Holt. I'll make them send somebody else!"

"I asked to go," Melanie said, quietly. "What can you tell them? What can you tell them that won't mess up your life on Temperate?" Melanie came to Helen slowly, and sat down close to her. "There's nothing for me here, Helen! You've changed everything. Do you understand?" She touched Helen's hand lightly. "You're a famous woman; famous even on Earth! You've lived an exciting life. But look at it from my point of view! Once you came into my life, it . . . you completely changed it. I can't just stay here and teach kindergarten."

"All right," Helen said, unable to stop her mouth from saying the fateful words. "Tell me what you want me to do. You must not go on the mission! I'll do anything you want."

Melanie completely melted. She stared at Helen, not believing, and then began to cry softly, happy and sad all at once. Helen felt sick, but she also felt a load off her mind. At least, she thought, Daisy had Allie and Lizzie, and Cass, and all their friends. Melanie was a poor Ocie girl with just two children. And Melanie was a much more psychologically balanced woman, with fewer hang-ups, for whom Helen's sexual demands would not be a burden. Helen's greed would not allow her to give Daisy up, but Melanie held all the emotional cards, it seemed.

What to do now? That was the question. Melanie refused to go tell the mission planning team that she was backing out. "I'll look a fool," she said, kissing Helen all over her face. "I have to keep playing along!"

"Better now than later!" Helen exclaimed. "It'll be much worse, when they don't have time to train a replacement!"

"There's already replacements built into the program. There's two of everyone. Half of us are back-ups for the other half!"

"Tell them," Helen insisted, "or I will tell them."

"You'll do no such thing!" Melanie insisted, very angry. "You tell your Daisy first. _Then_ I'll tell them I've changed my mind!"

Helen blinked. _Touché_ , she thought.

There was the sound of sleepy talking from the bedroom, and Melanie rolled her eyes. Soon they heard the pitter-patter of little feet, and four enormous eyes regarded them from the doorway. Helen held out her arms, and the girls came to her, all smiles. Melanie watched, oddly moved. She had secretly decided to leave the children with Helen if at all possible, but now secrecy was no longer necessary. And she needn't go. But . . . it was too exciting to stop going to her classes and the planning sessions. She felt far more alive than she had felt for a long time, and it was addictive.

Helen began making plans to have them come visit with her right away. Helen's apartment was far more spacious than the tiny beach house, but it got very cold in the winter. Still, it was better to get the children into a new school quickly, rather than to take them out of school in the middle of the school year.

Melanie said she wasn't sure that they would like it better out there. "Why don't you move here?" she asked. Because of the Collegium, Helen said. "But, you could go every day from here," Melanie suggested, not quite believing her own words.

In the end, Helen persuaded them to visit. Melanie could come over with her, taking the morning off, and then report for work, leaving the girls with Helen. They would willingly stay with Helen; they were very well-behaved, obedient children. They could spend a week out in Temperate, after which they could decide. Melanie was in favor of the plan, because it bought her one more week before she had to tell the mission planners that she would not go.

## An Ocie Family Visits Temperate Segment

As it turned out, Melanie was quite at home traveling through the access tubes. The girls were dressed in overalls and helmets, and strapped to the stomachs of the two women. Helen wore shorts again, while Melanie wore a brief skirt in a very stiff canvas-like fabric. "I know it shows a lot, but it doesn't get in the way," she explained. On her back she had packed a week's clothes for herself, while Helen's backpack contained the girls' belongings, down to their books and toothbrushes and rubber duckies.

They hauled themselves along at speed, and arrived at the elevator landing well before the day's travelers began heading out. Helen led the way to her old apartment, and unlocking it with the emergency voice code, fired up the heaters, and showed Melanie around. Both girls were so little that Helen could carry them at the same time, while Melanie approved of all the equipment and the furniture. They agreed it was cold, but being in Temperate was such a novelty, they were excited and happy.

"Well, I have to go," Helen said. "What will you do all morning?"

"Oh! I thought you would be with us!"

Helen shook her head. "No, I have to teach. Classes start at nine."

"Music classes?"

"Yes. Would you like to come?"

Melanie looked interested. Helen thought to herself that if they came out to the Collegium, Helen could take them somewhere if they grew bored. So it was arranged that Helen would pick them up around 8:30.

"What happened?" Daisy wanted to know, when Helen turned up in her room, all sweaty from the exertion.

Helen calmed herself down. Daisy was just doing her hair. The children were making a big noise in the bathroom together. This was the difficult part.

"Daisy . . . the girl gave me an ultimatum."

Daisy stopped, and turned to stare at Helen, her eyes wide.

"How long have you known her?"

"About a month."

"What does she want?"

"For us to move in together."

Daisy took a deep breath. "You met her when you were out with Alison, and—she . . . she _proposed_ to you then?"

"Yes."

Daisy stared at Helen for a long time. "And you said no."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Helen shrugged.

Daisy was having trouble with her eyes. "So, what's changed now?"

Helen told her. ". . . And the children will be orphans, Daisy!"

"She's over there now, in your apartment?"

"Yes!"

Daisy sat there, all the life gone out of her. "Did you . . . sleep with her?"

"Daisy . . ."

"Of course. I'm the only one who ever denied you."

"I never asked you."

"True. You never asked." She began to swing her head from side to side in loss and grief and misery. Helen recognized the agony of someone who blamed herself for all her misfortunes. "Did you really deny her all this time . . . because you loved us—me and Lena?" she asked in a small voice.

"You know I don't love you any less, Daisy!"

"Well, you want to go away, don't you? What do you call that?" Now Daisy was crying, and Helen was afraid that the kids would charge in and see it.

"Shh," she comforted her. "I'm not going to give you up completely, Daisy; we're still friends, aren't we?"

Daisy made an eloquent gesture of warding, as if to say, _leave me alone,_ and _I'm not going to touch that question_ at the same time. Impatiently she finished her hair in a careless bun, and put a net over it. She pulled on her nursing jacket over her uniform, tied her laces more firmly, and headed out the door. At the last minute she turned and came back in.

"I still appreciate everything you've done for me," she whispered.

"Daisy, wait!"

Daisy waited.

"I love you!"

"I understand," said Daisy, her face solemn. "I have to go now."

"Is this the end?" Helen asked, knowing she had no right.

Daisy took one last deep breath, and let it out. Then she walked out, and refused to look back. Helen called, desperately, but Daisy didn't stop.

Lizzie came over, looking worried.

"What happened?" she asked, mildly.

"We had—a bit of a fight," Helen lied.

Lizzie sighed. "She'll come round," she said quietly, stroking Helen with her wrinkled old hand. "She knows enough not to get offended by a careless word here or there. I assume you said something, and she took offense?"

Helen shook her head. It was not Daisy's fault. It had been all Helen's foolishness, all along. "I've lost her! Lost her forever!" Helen wept.

Lizzie insisted that Helen tell her everything. Too miserable to argue, Helen sat down and told Lizzie about Melanie. Lizzie listened calmly, and when Helen was calm enough to forget her own misery and focus on Lizzie, she saw that the old lady was broken-hearted. She was dabbing at her eyes, crying silently.

"There, now," said Lizzie, comforting Helen, in spite of being in tears herself. "You tried, I know, dear. You were very patient with her." She patted Helen's hand, and Helen began to see just how fond old Lizzie was of her. "I want Daisy to be happy, of course I do. I first saw her, oh, twelve some years ago . . . Little Bobby was my favorite thing in the whole wide world! He was the most perfect little fellow; all that I had got from my silly child. She _would_ have to take up with that Cass—wonderful though she was, and what a pair they were!" Lizzie sighed. "I lost control when the two of them were in their teens, just a speck older than little Lena." Helen shifted a little, and Lizzie stopped her story. "You probably have to hurry off, don't you, Helen."

"Oh, no; please continue. I have until nine. We so rarely get to talk!"

Lizzie smiled, and Helen got a sense of how beautiful she must have been in her youth. There was a photograph on Alison's bedside table of Lizzie with a broad smile on her face. But when she smiled now, through her tears, she was beautiful in a way that that happy photo simply could not capture.

"Well, when Bobby brought Daisy back, it was love at first sight, for me. Alison was all grown up, and Bobby—well, Bobby was a boy. I couldn't dress him up, and play with his hair, all the things I wanted to do for Alison, but she had been such a serious little thing. Daisy was the most serious of them all. But she let me mother her. She was starved for the kind of love I wanted to give her, you see. Her parents were very—rigid." Helen nodded. This much she had gathered. "But as they settled down, Bobby and her, she drew apart. I guess she needed to feel that she was in control of her little corner of the world. Once Lena was born, she let me look after the little girl, up to a point." She sighed again. They looked at each other, silently. Each knew exactly how the other felt. Before Helen had felt that fierce protectiveness towards Daisy and Lena, Lizzie had felt it, and Helen felt a comradeship with the old girl that made her want to laugh hysterically, and weep at the same time.

"Ted keeps asking about you," Lizzie remarked, smiling a little twisted smile. Helen shook her head. "No chance?" Helen shook her head again. "None at all?"

"No, Lizzie," Helen said, sighing. "I know I'm very inconvenient to have around!"

"You are what you are," Lizzie said. "Look at me; here I was, with a gigantic crush on you when I was sixteen, and now . . . I'm all old and withered, and you're fresh as a rose!" She shook her head and smiled ruefully. "At my age, I can laugh at it. For Daisy—it's a lot harder."

Lizzie looked into those expressive green eyes.

"You mustn't forget there's a person on the other side too, Lizzie. I know I'm supposed to be the big celebrity. But I have needs too, and less likely to have them satisfied!"

"I understand," Lizzie said softly. "I do know how hard it is. And I think you did the right thing. This Melanie sounds like a solid woman."

"Oh, she is! She—Lizzie, you know what I want to say! I—I can relax with her. She . . ."

"Yes. Everything that Daisy doesn't give you."

"Oh god, that sounds disgusting!"

"It shouldn't. I understand. You're an artist. And you have been nothing but kind and considerate. I knew all about you when we were on Earth, Helen. Even then, I defended you. I told all my friends that you were far more considerate than anyone had a right to expect!"

Helen melted with gratitude. She had been criticized unmercifully for what had been considered her excesses. The Press had gunned for her ever since she had rejected a budding young singer who had had a crush on Helen. It had been a case of damned if she did, and damned if she didn't.

Helen showered quickly, changed into her classroom clothes, and headed to the apartment. Melanie and the kids were ready, all neatly dressed in warm clothes.

"You look very smart," Melanie said admiringly, taking in Helen's slacks and jacket. She had chosen to wear a calf-length wrap-around skirt in a heavy dove-grey fabric, and a dark rose sweater, with a heavy shawl to keep her warm. The children wore plaid dresses and heavy hose and shoes.

As soon as they arrived at the Collegium, some of the older girls quickly took charge of Helen's guests, making them comfortable. There were toys for the little girls, and books for Melanie.

Helen began the class, trying not to show how excited she was to have Melanie in the room. She was teaching advanced harmony, and the lesson went beautifully.

At the halfway point, there was a great disturbance, and Cass came in, with a number of other important folks, including Greg, Alison, Jeannie, Lizzie, and others from Ops and the Observatory. "SURPRISE!" they yelled, and a cart with an enormous cake was wheeled in.

Everyone was looking at Helen, smiling from ear to ear. She stuttered and mumbled, trying to make sense of it. "What's the occasion?" she asked, wondering if she had missed anything.

"It's the anniversary of your revival," Cass reminded her. "It's been exactly a year since you opened your eyes!"

Helen gets a shock

Helen's pleasure was twice as great because Melanie was there to witness the celebration. When the kids from school came in, there was a lot of excitement, a lot of running around shouting and laughing. The kids discovered Maya and Marissa, and those two young ladies found themselves surrounded by a dozen adoring Temperate girls.

Conspicuous by her apparent absence was Daisy, who had been sent by her supervisor. She had almost not come, but curiosity had driven her, and she was carefully hidden in a little room that had been built in the back for combining the needs of emergency medical staff, a ticket booth, and a cloak-check room. It had an entry from the outside, and Daisy had slipped in and locked the door.

Inside the hall, Helen greeted Cass, and began to introduce her to Melanie, but to Helen's surprise, they seemed to know each other.

"We were wondering where you had run off to," Cass told Melanie, making her blush. "So, how long has this been going on?"

"Please, Cass," Helen pleaded, "nothing's going on! We just met in Ocean, and Melanie wanted to see the Collegium, that's all."

But Cass ignored Helen. She had something on her mind which, she said, surprisingly had to do with both Melanie and Helen. "It won't take long," she promised.

The crux of the matter was that they did not want to risk _any_ genetic material. Therefore it had been decided to clone everyone who was going on the mission.

" _Clone?_ _"_ Melanie asked, aghast. "Make duplicates?"

"Yes, dear. You don't seem to like the idea."

"Quite honestly, no, Chief Holt! How—what will happen when . . ."

"It's very simple. We create an egg and a sperm out of your very DNA, and embed the little embryo in your womb. She will be a daughter! You deliver her just as you would any other child."

Melanie's face flushed, and then turned grey. She dropped her eyes. "I've been having second thoughts about going at all, Chief Holt." She glanced at Helen through the corner of her eye, unable to stop herself. When she looked back at Cass Holt, she was alarmed to see that the Chief had turned grey also.

Helen looked at the other two in dismay.

Cass drew a long harsh breath, and let it out in a sigh. "You're the fourth one today," she said heavily. "We seem to be having an attack of second thoughts."

"Oh, Cass! That's _terrible!"_ Helen's concern was comforting, but if the project were to be abandoned as a manned mission, it would be a lot less use. It would doom the ship to far more expensive maneuvers.

"What can we do? We've long since passed beyond a military-style operation. We must have volunteers." She looked about at the party going on around them. Helen's students were impatient to get her back into the celebration. "I have to talk to you, Helen, even more urgently now." She glanced at Melanie, who colored, and shrank away. But Cass did not seem to hold a grudge against her personally. "But now, you must join your students. This is supposed to be a happy occasion!"

"Yes, yes, right afterwards! Promise me you'll wait and talk to me!"

Cass smiled. Helen loved Cass's smile. There was something about her mouth and her lips that did something to Helen when she smiled. "I promise!" she said. "Meanwhile, Melanie can keep me company!"

Helen was ushered to a seat of honor, and then unfolded a wonderful little concert. There was a small recital on recorders by middle-school students, a keyboard four-hands duet featuring Lena and Beatrice, a choral piece, and a movement from a suite for string orchestra. Helen was delighted.

Daisy watched Helen unobserved from a vantage point not too far away. The smile on Helen's face was radiant, and found an echo in Daisy's face, though she was far from happy. _She is an artist_ , Daisy thought, and her life is all about feeling. When she was happy, she was happy with all her body and soul. When she was sad, it was a total sadness that shone out of her, making everyone around her feel it. _But I have so much else to worry about,_ she thought. There are the kids, and Alison and Lizzie, the reputation of the family. There was no time for self-indulgence, emotional or otherwise.

She looked around to where Melanie and her two precious little girls sat with Cass, good as gold. Daisy studied her long glossy black braid as it hung forward over her shoulder, her too-wide mouth, her high, sloping forehead with its receding hairline, her long jaw. She had nothing, Daisy felt, except her heavy breasts and her slim body. Her tight skirt emphasized her legs, damn her, and Daisy knew how Helen's eyes went to the legs and the breasts of any woman. The children, at least, were well-behaved, if a little insipid.

"Speech! Speech!" everyone was yelling. Helen was bright red with pleasure, and her green eyes shone. Daisy rarely saw this side of Helen, the feminine side. Helen was a different person when she was with Daisy, quiet, thoughtful, passionate, comforting. Sometimes she was vulnerable or sad, bringing out the mother in Daisy. Helen had become a large part of her life, but she had rarely seen this aspect of Helen.

Helen nodded and held up her hand for quiet.

"I'm very pleased with all your efforts, and touched that you remembered this day." Her eyes glowed with happiness, and her voice vibrated with feeling. "It is one of the most important days of my life. I know many of you feel that you are here not of your choice, but from unchangeable circumstances. But I _chose_ to be here. It was a blind choice, because I didn't know whom I would find when I was—revived. I could never have guessed that it would be such wonderful, kind, friendly people." They were silent. Helen had a beautifully expressive voice when she was speaking in public—indeed, all the time. Cass was famous on the ship for having a persuasive voice, but Helen was in a class all by herself. Daisy hid, carefully, anxious not to be seen.

"For me, there is only one mission. That the folk on this ship should be happy, and healthy, and thrive, and be all the wonderful things people can be. I don't believe the universe was made for mankind. I think that's a narrow, childish view of the world. But within limits, we must use whatever opportunities have been given us to live life _fully._ This means music, art, dance, drama, science, literature, invention, food, _everything!_ There are many people on board; each of them has _something_ to offer! I think we've just begun to discover what we can do. Thank you so _very_ much, for letting me be the first to see the creativity there is among you! Thank you!"

There was a rousing cheer, and Lena ran up and hugged Helen.

She was only the first of a long line. Cass smiled widely, as she observed how Helen enjoyed each heartfelt embrace. She was evidently a very tactile person, only reluctantly letting each person go, especially the women and girls; Cass understood the feeling very well. Ted got a nice big hug, too. Helen was getting more fond of Ted all the time, but she always slipped out of his grasp when he tried to get fresh with her. Greg was hugging her now, and Helen playfully kissed him. God, she was irresistible. And her long, golden rope of a braid was like a _ray_ of what Cass thought of as _sunshine._ (Sunshine was an ideal, now, not a part of experience.) Cass glanced at Melanie by her side, and smiled to herself. It was so tempting to imagine the two long-haired women lying in bed together.

Melanie glanced back and smiled. Cass was intrigued at how Melanie's ugly face was transformed when she smiled. Cass thought of Daisy, and wondered whether this girl could make Helen happy, where Daisy had been unable to quite give herself to Helen. One never knew with scientific types, she thought to herself.

Daisy was torn between wanting to leave, and wanting to stay. The hateful Melanie woman cautiously began exploring the large room, with its numerous instruments. Every once in a while, Helen came over to talk to her, and the spark between them cut Daisy like a knife. She hadn't minded the gentle concern of Lucy, or the earnest worry of Sissy. But there was something about the way Melanie looked at Helen that made Daisy feel utterly hopeless. Then she saw Lena being introduced to Melanie and the little girls, and Lena led the older one away, to the bathroom, presumably. _Traitor_ , she thought.

Helen was talking to everyone, and not eating. She would soon run out of steam, Daisy told herself. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, she called the medical center, and slipped away. _I have to learn to let her manage by herself_ , she thought. Back at work, she asked for cleaning duty. It was mindless, dull work, cleaning, tidying, sterilizing, folding. Glorified housework. But she didn't trust herself to deal with anything more critical that afternoon.

As Daisy had anticipated, Helen soon found herself bewildered and exhausted, and feeling cold. She felt a craving for something sweet, and because of her excitement, it was quite a while until she realized what was wrong. The children had all gone to back to school, and Helen was alone with her class.

"Is there any of that punch left over?" she asked her students suddenly. They found her a glass of punch, and Helen called for a short break. Somehow things had settled down, and in spite of the minor chaos, their class was going well. Melanie was helping to quietly clean up in the large hall. After what she had told Cass, there didn't seem to be any point in going up to her special sessions in mission planning.

Helen finished the class early, and came over to talk to Melanie.

"This must have been so confusing! It obviously wasn't a typical day here!"

"It was fun!" said Melanie. "The children had a great time! And your daughter was great."

Helen looked at her confused for a second. "Oh! _Lena_ , you mean!" She smiled. It was nice to think of the girl as _her_ daughter, even for a second.

"I'm sorry; I don't know _why_ I said that! She's Daisy's child, I remember now! I didn't mean anything, Helen. It came from nowhere. It was the way she behaved with you."

"Yes, I know; sometimes I wonder . . ."

"I didn't see her mother, did I?" Melanie asked in a low voice.

Helen frowned. "I don't think she was here." She flushed. She had not looked out for Daisy; already she was beginning to act as if Daisy didn't exist.

They finished up at the Collegium, and the four of them headed out to Cass's home, all wrapped up against the weather. Melanie was fascinated with the austere elegance of Cass's house.

"Come in," Cass said, answering the door. She picked up the older girl and carried her in.

What Cass had to say shocked Helen. She began by questioning Helen about her scientific background. Helen said proudly that she had college physics, chemistry and mathematics.

"Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but—I'd like you to be involved in the project," she said grimly."

"Of course! I was going to volunteer!"

"Well, not to go out. But in the construction, the outfitting, the planning, and so on."

"I understand. It's too technical for someone with my limited training."

"No. We just _can't risk_ you. You're keeping this ship alive. Without you, the ship would not survive ten years."

Helen's jaw dropped.

"You can't mean that!"

Cass glanced at Melanie, looking for support, but Melanie was too dazed to contribute just then. She turned back to Helen. "Helen, you have no idea how things were two years ago! It was terrible, hopeless, as if we were all ready to lie down and die. We planned to revive you for a long time, and already that made a difference. I know; you can't believe the impact your existence has on the ship! Without you, Helen, there _is_ no ship!" Cass gathered herself for the last, complicated stage of what she wanted to tell Helen, but with Melanie listening, it seemed impossible. She had fully planned to tell them together. There was no doubting that Melanie was a good choice for Helen, for her to be as complete as she could be. She carried herself with great dignity, her eyes shining with suppressed excitement. She was a little overwhelmed to be in the home of the Chief, but she wasn't giving in to any childish display of amazement. But—no, it was impossible. With a sigh, Cass excused herself and Helen for a moment. "We'll be right back," she promised.

Cass seated Helen carefully.

"Helen, would you agree to something as a special favor to me?"

Helen looked alarmed.

"I suppose it depends. What is it?"

"I want you to have a child. Not just _any_ child!" Helen had turned red, but was saying nothing. Cass felt a fool already. "I want you to . . . have a baby genetically identical to yourself!"

Cass winced in anticipation of an outburst from Helen, but Helen took it remarkably well.

"You want to have _me_ cloned?"

"Yes, love . . . and that's not all . . ."

When Helen, Melanie and the children left, Helen was completely off-balance. What Cass had wanted was not only for Helen to have a child made up exclusively of her own genetic material, but to have it—her, rather—to have her growth accelerated artificially. The child would grow at _five times_ the ordinary rate, until she was fifteen years _biologically speaking,_ but only three years old by the clock. Then she would relapse to ordinary speed. Cass said she wasn't entirely sure that it was possible, but in theory they had the means to do it.

Helen had laughed and refused. She had objected that the child would be mentally damaged if she was not allowed to develop normally, and Helen was certain that it would be physically painful to have growth forced on a child. She could imagine a monster, with only the vaguest resemblance to a normal human being. But Cass argued relentlessly. What would Helen say if she saw an example of a child who had grown up that way? Helen could not believe the experiment had been conducted successfully already. Oh, said Cass, it has been. Melanie had been brought in, and told the idea. "Tell her she must agree to do it," Cass had begged her. "And, _and_ , we can genetically repair the faulty gene that produces diabetes! Wouldn't you like that?"

Now, _that_ had been a bribe Helen could not ignore. They could arrange her child—alike with Helen in every tiny regard, except for one—to not have diabetes! Melanie's intelligent eyes had seemed to burn into Cass as she mulled over the problem.

Little Maya had been fast asleep in Melanie's arms, while Marissa sat near her mother, bored and tired. Melanie had just begun to understand how much Helen meant to Chief Holt. She was moved by Helen's eagerness to participate in the mission, while Melanie herself wanted to give it up. It was because of Helen that Melanie wanted to give up the mission; how could she leave behind this exciting new relationship, after Helen had given up so much for her? This strange, powerful attraction between them that was so full of passion, and so tender, and caring?

Melanie could see how fiercely Helen wanted a child. The temptation of a child without the tragic flaw of diabetes was irresistible. Helen was looking at her, those green eyes seeming to see right through her. _I have to think for both of us,_ Melanie thought.

"You should think it over," she had said at last. It was happening too fast.

Cass had nodded. At least the Chief thought it was better to be sure how Helen felt. She was a woman of old-fashioned principles, however innovative she was in some ways. Melanie had long admired the Chief, and now they seemed to be united in their interest in Helen's welfare.

They were walking back, Helen lost deep in thought. Already, they seemed to be a little family, with Marissa in Helen's arms. There was something so natural about the way Helen and Marissa took to each other. _If it is half as wonderful as the way Helen loves Lena, I will have nothing to desire,_ Melanie thought.

"It seems so _unnatural,_ " Helen thought aloud. Melanie made a sound of agreement. She had rarely been happier in her whole life as she was at that moment, feeling the warmth of Helen so close to her, breathing the same air as her, walking by her side. All her dreams had come true, but in such a confusing way. She had not only found love, but an unexpected richness of love. She hardly knew what to think. "But I want a child _so much_ . . ." Helen squeezed the girl she was holding gently, and held her cheek to the child. Would having her own baby lessen the affection Helen had for Maya and Marissa? Melanie was certain that it would not; after all, Helen had Lena, and that seemed not to affect how Helen adored the younger girls.

"What if something goes wrong?" Melanie asked. She was an amateur when it came to genetics, and had only a vague idea about how far advanced technology was on the ship in that area. "Imagine your own baby, going all wrong?"

"We should ask to see the results they have got."

"What results?"

"Apparently the woman who works on this method has cloned daughters!"

"Oh." Melanie frowned. Yes, she remembered now; the child must be about ten.

They were approaching the street on which Helen's apartment stood. Helen turned to her with a smile she would never forget. With a gesture, she asked Melanie to try her key to it. She opened it easily, and they went inside. Helen drew Melanie to her with her one arm, and whispered, "We're a little family! Oh god, I'm so happy!" The girls were fast asleep, and Helen and Melanie gave vent to tears of joy as they kissed. It had been hard, and both Helen and Melanie in their different ways felt the burden of pain they had imposed on Daisy. But this was joy for them to feel now, no matter what the future would bring.

Helen straightened up, looking around her. "Let's put them to bed," she said. They had set up a little bedroom for the girls in what had been Helen's study. The study would be moved into a room at the back. As they began to settle down, they would discover what they would need for various activities in the little apartment. They laid the children down together in the bed they had been given, and undressed them together, working efficiently. Melanie watched with approval at how comfortable Helen was with it. Melanie sighed, feeling like the proverbial 'other woman.' She would send Helen back to make sure things were okay at the other home, but not right away. It was still only about six, barely dark.

Marissa woke up, a little disoriented. Helen took her to the bathroom, and showed her where the things were. The little girl answered a call of nature, and allowed Helen to take her back to bed.

The women cooked together, silently enjoying the feelings that stretched between them, the innumerable little touches of fingers and shoulders as they cut and sliced and put dishes together. Whenever one of them turned for something, it was as if the other was there with it ready for her. They laughed with pleasure.

It was a simple meal, but it was utterly satisfying.

Melanie watched closely while Helen took her drugs. "Do you have to take those at every meal?"

"One of them, this one," Helen showed her. " _These_ are only at supper." Helen grimaced. "I don't like them," she said in a low voice.

"You poor thing," commiserated Melanie. It felt so heartwarming to hear those words. Daisy would never say such a thing, Helen mused; her attitude was probably that, well, the medication was necessary, unavoidable, and one may as well take it cheerfully. Grumbling got you nowhere. But Melanie had so such thoughts, it was clear. "Do you hate it, to have diabetes? Or don't you care?"

"I never think of it," Helen said. "Except that, well, if I had a baby, it would be a risk to both of us."

" _Both_ of you?"

Helen nodded, gloomily. "I'm told that lots of little things could go wrong. Who knows; maybe things have changed since I learned that."

"If you're going to have a baby, you're going to have one, so what's the use of worrying? They'll look after you the whole time, I'm sure. Nobody's ever lost a baby on the Voyager."

Helen was impressed. What was the deal; had they only wide-hipped women on board, so that a Caesarean section was never needed? She was a little annoyed at what she perceived as being too much of an emphasis on eugenics.

Helen headed out once again to drink in the sight of the little girls sleeping, as Melanie came up behind, amused and touched at Helen's fascination with them. Somehow they ended up in the bedroom Helen had chosen to put Melanie in: her own.

"Will you sleep here?"

Helen sighed. "You know I want to."

They began to undress, and fell into bed together. Together at last, in their own home, with no need to hurry back, no need to do anything!

An hour later, they lay in each other's arms, full of wonder. Helen was a lusty girl, Melanie knew that. There was much passion there, and energy, though there was tenderness too. Helen had an aggressive way about her that was delightful, a hungry look in those green eyes, as if she couldn't stand to just look at Melanie a second more, as if she wanted to tear the clothes off her! It made her feel like a woman. And then, when she pushed Helen gently back against the pillows and made love to her, she turned into a swooning, soft thing, pliant, sensuous, submissive.

Melanie couldn't stop thinking of Daisy, the woman from whom she had taken Helen. Perhaps it was self-serving, but she felt in her bones that Helen needed sex, and the self-control she had to use on herself had taken a great deal of energy from her. But she knew Helen loved the other woman, and Melanie was feeling acutely guilty.

"I've been thinking," Helen began, "whether I shouldn't go see how things are, down at Daisy's. Oh god, what a mess I've made of things! I never thought of myself as someone who'd do a thing like this."

Melanie gave Helen a look that made her pause. Then she relented.

"You should go," Melanie said, feeling sorry. "I do feel bad for her. I'm sorry if I'm a little defensive."

"And there's Lizzie, and Lena." Helen sniffed loudly. "You _knew_ it was the whole family! I love them, Melanie. It's just the way I am!"

"Is it always going to be like this?"

Helen hated the look on her face. Helen winced. "I hope not! I don't know. I have to be honest with Lena, but not brutal."

Melanie anxiously asked Helen about everything she could possibly need to know until they met again in the morning. Then she sent Helen off with a kiss. Outside it was fiercely cold, but since there was no wind, it was tolerable to a girl who had grown up in the punishing climate of Kansas.

Helen slipped into the Warren home, hoping not to be seen. But the three women were up, clearing the table. As soon as she saw Helen, Daisy colored, and went inside the house.

"Hello, Helen," Alison said with a friendly smile, which was echoed on the face of her mother. Lizzie nodded to Helen, and motioned to the two women to go away and talk.

"Is Daisy all cut-up?" Helen asked. Alison took a look at the expression on Helen's face, and her expression softened. "Be honest. She left as soon as I came in . . ."

"I was only told by Mom a few minutes ago. Yes . . . Daisy has . . ."

"Allie! What can I do? I don't want Daisy to hate me forever!"

Alison smiled. "You have to give her time, Helen. She's a very conservative girl in some ways. But she'll talk to you when she's ready. I just know she will. I don't know when, though."

"I know this is the right thing for me," Helen said, looking anxious. "I asked her a number of times, and finally she said yes!"

"I'm happy for you," Alison said. "But of course, I'm sorry for us!"

"How is Lena taking it?"

"Not well."

"I guessed she wouldn't. She adores Daisy," muttered Helen.

"Not half as much as she adores you," Alison said

"Oh _God!"_ Helen groaned. She would have done _anything_ to make Lena love her mother as much as she loved Helen. She considered staging something extreme, something that would disgust Lena. She sighed. "Maybe not for long. Once she learns about me and . . . Melanie . . ."

Alison looked at her thoughtfully, and shrugged. "You never know," she admitted. Helen shot her an odd glance. She had never noticed how strangely Alison expressed herself. If she didn't know her well, Helen would have thought her uncaring and abrupt.

"Shall I go talk to her?" Alison shook her head. If Alison had said the word, Helen would have gone to Lena right away. But a little thought made her reconsider. What was there to say to the kid? How could she say farewell to her, after all their complicated preparations of the last couple of weeks?

Helen spent the night in her room, awake. Daisy did not visit. The complex relationship that had been building was no more. Helen left early, before anyone seemed to be awake. But as she passed Daisy's room, she realized Daisy was awake, waiting for Helen to leave.

Lena felt it in her bones that Aunt Helen was in the house, and had been in the house that night. She washed up as always, and roused Benny, and got him started with his morning routine. Then she slipped into Aunt Helen's room, and sniffed. She could smell Aunt Helen in the air. A touch of the pillow told her yes, Aunt Helen had slept there that night. It was a relief. Lena disliked any major change in their routine, unless it was one _she_ initiated.

There was a test scheduled for that afternoon. It was mathematics, and she loved math. She had discovered how to multiply polynomials, and she simply could not get over how easy it was! She had a few more things to figure out completely before that test. Summer would help her.

The day seemed to crawl along, until the midday break, when she got to talk to Summer.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, seeing Summer reading a book. "Hey, can you show me some math?"

"Sure. What?"

"How do you do _these?_ "

They got so absorbed, Lena did not notice the time pass. The little chime went off, and it was time for the math class. It was a test.

First they got a brief reminder. If they did well on the test the following week, they would be invited to join this club. It was a great honor. Not everyone did that well. Lena had a chance. The present test was good practice for it. Finally the test sheet was handed out—no computers on this one. Lena felt uncomfortable. _She hadn't gone to the bathroom during the break!_

Lena battled with the test and with her call of nature at the same time. She simply did _not_ want to leave the test. Inevitably, she lost control, and to her horror, a stream of hot liquid soaked all the way down her pants, and she was too paralyzed to move. The classmates around her noticed it, and did not say a word. The teacher caught a whiff of the pungent smell, and looking around the class easily identified the culprit. She walked over, just a little out of kilter, and that was enough to make Lena freeze up.

"Let's go into the bathroom, hon; we'll get you all cleaned up," she whispered to Lena.

Tears pouring down her face, she got up slowly, and pointed at the test. "It's all done," she said. The teacher nodded. They walked. When they got to the bathroom, leaving behind a line of damp footprints on the tile floor, Lena got in and locked the door.

Helen was in the middle of a difficult lesson when she saw Summer standing at the back. She was white-faced. Something made Helen finish the lesson completely, to the point where they all began to nod with understanding. She gave them another assignment, and headed out to the back, to see what had brought Summer.

"Can you come down to school with me?"

"Can I? What do you mean?"

"I need you to come to the school, Miss Helen! Lena needs you!"

"What happened?"

"Oh, why don't you come? Please, trust me! It's important!"

Lena had barricaded herself in the bathroom, and refused to let anyone in except Helen. She cried and said her mother was not to know. Only Helen, please. "Oh, thanks for coming," said Miss Wright, the school nurse. "She said you would come, though I said you shouldn't be disturbed!"

Helen knocked on the bathroom door. "Who is it?" demanded an angry voice, just beginning to lose its control.

"It's me, Aunt Helen," she said softly.

There was a click. "It's open," Lena called out.

Helen went inside, and closed the door behind her. She had instructed them outside that she and Lena should be left alone. She had a large towel with her.

"What happened?" Helen asked, before she could make herself stop. But Lena shrugged and said, "I peed in my pants. Ha, ha." Helen moved to put her arms round her, but she shrank away. "Don't! I'm dripping wet!"

Somehow, Helen got her undressed and cleaned up. It wasn't the tidiest operation, but they put their heads together, and did it with as little mess as they could. Lena trembled with distress, and she showed an angry, furious face to Helen. But Helen knew she was glad to have her there. Even while she glared at Helen, her hand on Helen's shoulder seemed to send her a message of trust and calm.

Lena said she'd go out dressed in the towel. "This is perfectly decent," she said firmly. There was a defiance in her bearing that Helen had never seen in her before this. Helen had washed out the jeans-like pants, and wrapped them in another towel.

They went outside, and found the halls deserted. They quietly headed out along the familiar pathway that Helen had so often walked to the Warren home, with Lena and Summer.

"Why didn't you send for your mother?"

Lena scowled at Helen. "Why do you have to make such a big deal of it?"

"I'm not," Helen said gently.

"Are you upset you had to waste time with this—mess?"

"You _know_ I'm not, Lena! You would know if I was upset."

Suddenly Lena's control snapped. She put a little distance between them, as tears came to her eyes. "You don't understand! I thought you would, and I was wrong!"

"Oh darling, come here!"

Lena threw her arms around Helen's neck, and they held each other tight and cried together.

Lena was more upset because of Benny than most other things. She had a remarkably reasonable attitude towards her classmates, and their opinion of her. But she was very concerned that Benny would be humiliated. Helen asked whether she would like to change quickly, and go back, to make sure he was all right.

"I don't know," Lena said, turning red. "I should help clean up the classroom," she said to herself. Lizzie had said that the usual procedure was to simply spray the area with a neutralizer. The stain would simply lose its odor, and sink into the earth harmlessly. The floor of the classroom was clean earth, and would absorb the urine without much difficulty.

After Lena was washed, and re-dressed in clean clothes, Helen walked her out to the school again, and Lena bashfully approached her classmates again. Helen tried not to watch too closely, but Lena managed it with great grace. Helen had convinced her that it was simply something to laugh at, and Lena had believed it. In the end, her classmates weren't quite as forgiving as they had hoped, but it was not too painful.

"I'm going," Melanie said. She had been preoccupied for days. Helen had moved back into the apartment with them, and they had quickly become a family. The girls, who had always liked Helen far more than they had liked anyone else, insisted on having her dress them, wash them, feed them, everything. Maya still nursed at Melanie's breast, and she was still quite possessive of her mother, but it was Helen who made their breakfast, dressed them, took them to their little nursery school. Melanie brought them back, but they had to climb all over Helen when she got back from work.

Melanie had gone back to the classes at Operations, and had soon become totally involved with the planning and the mission. One day she had come in looking all intense and unhappy, and burst out with this cry. "It's not for you, not for me . . . I just have to go, Helen. It's as if my life is meaningless if I refuse to go."

"I'm _glad_ ," Helen said, quietly. "I would go if they asked me!"

That night, Melanie was even more passionate than usual. In the morning, they took the girls, still half asleep, out in a cart to the running track, and first Helen ran, and then Melanie. She wanted to be in perfect physical condition for the mission. In the afternoons, when she came back exhausted from her classes, she trained with weights, and over a couple of weeks, Helen noticed her muscles become harder, and she felt different in bed.

"Chief Holt came by today. She's going to make an announcement tonight," Melanie warned, her eyes bright with excitement.

It was true. On the news, Cass described what was happening. The cutter was being fitted out for an investigative mission, but they were going on the assumption that the _Voyager_ would spend an extended period of time in orbit around the Star, which had been named Phoebus. They would try to optimize the orbit so that they kept hold of as much energy as they could without damaging the ship.

"There is a planet, as many of you know already," Cass continued. "It appears to be airless and rocky. There is no life, as far as we can tell, on the planet. If there were, we would be obliged to leave it untouched. We have not been given such a directive, but by unanimous agreement in Council, we have decided to adopt the so-called "Prime Directive" of old Earth fiction.

"On the very good chance that there will be _no_ life, we must be ready to mine the resources quickly and efficiently. That means everyone— _everyone_ —must be a part of the effort, from the lowliest little girl, to me, myself. We must _all_ go back to school, learn the science, the information and skills that will help us to put all we have into this venture. We cannot have everything! We can't accelerate to light speed, to reach the far stars, and also stop every once in a while to re-stock out raw materials. But this will be an exception. We must learn to extract metals, fuel, whatever we can use to enrich our lives. For years we have made do without certain things. But now, depending on what we find, we may be able to give our children two kinds of gifts: knowledge about planetary systems and technology, with hands-on experience, and also the little luxuries, a little like those our grandparents enjoyed on Earth!"

Melanie watched, her mouth hanging open. Helen watched her, smiling, with the little girls seated on her lap. She knew Marissa was listening closely, but she wondered how much she could really pick up. Maya pretended to listen, cocking her head this way and that, in imitation of Helen, but of course, Helen thought, she picked up more her mother's reaction to the message than any words in it.

# Year 74: Planning for the Mission

## Excitement

All across the ship, everyone wondered what the implications were. The message had said that plans would be revealed starting the very next day.

The next day, a fifth of the ship's population was invited to a special teleconference, and the plans were put in motion. It was a far-reaching plan. It was realized that the ship would have to go into a kind of intellectual overdrive. This meant that everyone would learn not one but two specialties, based on aptitude. At first, the second subject would be studied leisurely, as something everyone did for enjoyment. But gradually, everyone would be involved in studying the potential of the star and its planet. The word _mining_ was too narrow to describe all that was being planned for the venture. Means would have to be found for exploration, transportation, manufacture, observation, education, extraction, and not least, storage. New facilities would be constructed, used, and then either stored on board ship, or abandoned, depending on what they found.

Kids as young as Lena were to be taught technical skills. They already knew a great deal conceptually. But now, the special education committee had decided that instead of just watching videos of laboratory procedures, they should actually learn to do them.

Adult education would begin immediately. Helen was also a participant, as the principal of the Collegium. She buzzed in a question: what about music? Should the adult students who had begun to specialize in teaching music put that on hold, and turn to more practical matters for the duration? It was an honest question; Helen was ready to put aside the music and throw herself into whatever it took. Her excitement was barely under check; she had caught planet fever early. It seemed that, since there was general agreement that the ship would go into orbit, perhaps instead of just one small high-risk mission out to the system, they would send probes out at leisure, and cautiously. Perhaps Helen could go, if only she could take time off from music instruction!

The answer, though, was no; music classes should continue. "We've considered it carefully, Dr. Nordstrom, and we want to minimize the likelihood that _excitement_ will turn to _anxiety._ We want to accomplish _more,_ not less. Do you think your music teachers will do better at whatever else they're put to, if they stop studying music?"

"Stop music? Well, er, there'll certainly be more _time,_ I suppose, but . . ."

"These people took up music because they loved it, Helen. It seems reasonable that continuing that training will not be a chore. Perhaps you might lighten their load a bit; that would be plenty!"

"Oh, yes, I understand," said Helen.

"I'm going to teach mineralogy in the evenings, right in the high school!" Melanie told Helen when she came home from work. "Three days a week! Helen, I would love it if you came!"

"To your class?" Helen smiled.

"Yes! I want to show you the things I do, what my work is like!"

"Can I bring the kids?"

"Certainly!"

Lena was studying basic crystallography, with Summer, while they had special lessons in computer science at school. Helen attended Melanie's mineralogy classes, but meanwhile she had been invited to the dock amidships, where the cutter was being outfitted for the exploration. Daisy had been recommended to join the astronomy team who were doing spectroscopic analysis via a little probe that would be fired into the system. Everyone had argued against the waste of resources, but finally the project specialists had had their way. The information was needed _now_ , not months hence. And what the probe sent back would tell them how to equip the mission.

The schools were reorganized in a more regimented way. Instead of the outdoor classes all day, the afternoon classes were held in the building that housed the science laboratories, which began to be used twenty-four hours a day. The mineralogy classes were fascinating, after Melanie got over her initial awkwardness. Her manner changed from that of the kindergarten teacher to one more conducive to teaching adults. But she had a wonderful grasp of the subject, and had an enormous audience who wanted to know the probabilities of finding the various elements in planets around stars of various types, and why.

On Fridays and Saturdays, Helen was up in the docks. She was issued overalls and equipment just like the others, except that it was marked orange, to denote that she was an apprentice. She was put under the supervision of a nice young fellow called Steve. They were in zero- _g_ the whole time, with no up and down. Their first assignment was to install bunks in the enlarged cabins of Cutter Alpha. The bunk parts were being stamped out in a machine inside a little room they could just see behind them. At first Helen merely fetched the parts from the little factory, using a pulley tow-line. Then, having picked up the installation routine, Helen was allowed to install the things. She was better at it than Steve, and so he started fetching the parts for her.

Across the way, a specialist team of three was putting together the probe that Daisy and company would be programming.

Within a week, it had become clear that it was too inconvenient for Helen and company to eat alone, and Lizzie invited them to eat with the Warren family. Lena had innocently asked why not, and when Alison had asked Daisy, she had said it would be fine.

So Helen and Lizzie cooked supper quickly and efficiently for all of them, and they all ate a solid meal around four, just before they went to their after-dinner classes. Inevitably they discussed the various projects they were involved in, and Daisy soon knew that Helen would see the probe during the weekend.

One glorious night, they fired off the probe. Because Daisy had happened to study radiation poisoning in her student days, they had put her in charge of the radiation charting. Helen, being concerned with the health of the mission crew, hung on her every word. "Even at this distance, there's a little bit of neutrino flux," Daisy said, frowning. "It might be something that comes and goes," she said, shrugging. There was a feed right into Daisy's computer in the house.

"Isn't neutrinos caused by solar flares? I guess Phoebus flares, anyway?"

"I don't know that kind of thing," Daisy grumbled. "This is crazy, to put me in charge of this; I don't know enough for it! Oh!"

"What is it?"

"We're getting alpha particles. Just a couple. Oh, here's more . . ."

"Well?"

"That was it. There's nothing more; no neutrinos, either . . ."

Lena was more interested in crystalline matter. "Will the probe bring back planet pieces, Mama? That we could look at with microscopes?"

"No, just laser spectrography," said Daisy. "You know what that is."

"Yeah. So it's got a laser, then."

"Two. That's how it's sending information back."

"Not radio?"

"No. I don't remember why; they had a reason."

Alison had been a little nervous at the first supper they had all had together. Helen was wearing the grey canvas wrap-around skirt that she had been wearing for a while, in the evenings, with a brightly-colored T-shirt that had the word _Philadelphia_ on it. Lizzie let Helen dish the food out, and Helen brought it to the table, only making eye contact with the children. Daisy sat close to Lizzie's side of the table, with Lena on one side of her and an empty seat on the other. She only looked at Lizzie and Lena, and occasionally at Alison. Melanie had sat with eyes downcast, trying to disappear.

That night Helen had not sat down to eat, but eaten on her feet. Lizzie had gently asked her to sit, at the empty seat next to little Maya, but she had mumbled that she was fine. Afterwards, they had all gone to Melanie's lecture, as they had for a couple of days already. Other nights, Lena would go off to the crystallography class, while Daisy headed out to the observatory.

As time went on, Daisy relaxed, and everyone with her. One day she brought a little package and quietly gave it to Melanie, who took it with embarrassment. But she was definitely touched by the gesture. Alison had smiled pleasantly, not knowing how to react. Helen continued to avoid catching anyone's eye, but she looked noticeably calmer.

It was several more days before Alison got the courage to ask what Daisy had given Melanie. She first asked Daisy herself.

"A book of poetry," said Daisy. "I saw it in a shop, and I liked it."

"Oh." Alison wondered what kind of poetry it was. "How did she like it?"

Daisy looked straight at Alison. "I don't know," she said in a low voice, dropping her gaze. "You can never tell with poetry. She _said_ she liked it."

"I think it was a good thing to do."

Daisy took a deep breath. "Thanks for asking, Alison, but . . . I don't think I'm ready to talk yet."

"All right," Alison had said. Daisy had slowly looked up at her, and the younger woman's face had finally relaxed, in not quite a smile. Alison had nodded.

Lena and Ben had not immediately realized their mother's loss, or rather its nature. As soon as Helen had moved out, Ben had not liked it at first simply because Helen seemed to make the place happy somehow. But she visited every once in a while, and her manner towards him was as always, and it took a while to put two and two together, and see the awkwardness between his mother and Helen. Lena, in contrast, had looked on Melanie and her children with carefully masked dislike. But the little girls had won her over. After the little accident at school, she had withdrawn a little, embarrassed and angry. But Helen had gone out of her way to make her feel loved and appreciated. To her surprise, Summer had ignored it all, until Lena had decided to bring it up.

"You haven't said anything about the—you know." Lena was looking carefully at the picture she was drawing. It had been hard to talk Summer into sitting down and just drawing that afternoon. Summer would rather read, or go exploring, or do something _interesting._

"What?" asked Summer. She had been thinking about something completely different, and was taken by surprise.

" _You_ know—the other day . . ."

"Oh." The grey eyes flicked over to take in Lena's red face. Was there just a touch of color on the usually placid face? "Sure; I went and got her, remember?"

"You did?"

"You knew it," Summer said calmly, turning back to her drawing.

"You prob'ly think I'm a big baby."

"I don't," said Summer gently. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Leslie 'n' Pattie 'n' the others . . ."

"Who cares. They don't count. Wanna go swimming?" Lena nodded. She was so touched she couldn't speak for a while. "Don't you pee in the pool, now." Lena punched her in the arm.

That afternoon, Melanie was called up to Ops for a special conference and Helen was gone up to the dock, saying that she was to be taken on a maintenance tour that afternoon; she had been excited about seeing recycling, and wanted to see more. Helen was excited by the strangest things. Melanie frowned to herself. She felt it was a little below Helen's dignity to go around incognito as it were. She had insisted that she put her beautiful long hair in a net. She usually braided it and pinned it to her head, and sometimes it came loose, and had grease in it when she returned home. Melanie knew the dock crew were too indulgent to insist that she wear a net. Helen was their favorite, and she could talk them into letting her do anything.

The meeting had been utterly absorbing. Melanie was deeply involved with the planning. Though she was among the youngest in the planetary science branch, they had begun to defer to her judgment. They had given her the lead in the lab preparations for the mission. It had been Melanie who had come up with a plan to get them knowledgeable enough by studying the little space matter they had kept for examination, towed along with the ship from the distant Solar system. Teaching the theory was one thing, but keep up the technology for generations who had never experienced planetary matter firsthand was quite another. The only personnel who had been firmly decided for the mission were Melanie, and Jeannie's older son, Alan, whose specialty was navigation. They were both being trained to pilot in simulators, to backup whoever was chosen to pilot. Piloting was now an esoteric skill, since the giant Voyager was piloted essentially by digital commands of a very high level indeed. Analog piloting was an art they had to learn through simulators. Some of the younger kids were brilliant at it, but they could not spare an extra berth for a mere charioteer.

## Melanie and Daisy

All this was discussed at length, and much, much more. Chief Holt had finally decided to appoint Melanie Arnaud Mission Commander. Melanie headed home, her head in a whirl. She had eaten a quick lunch, and now she was famished. In the confusion, she had forgotten that it was the weekend. She washed up and changed and headed over to the Warren residence, where Helen would be with the children on a weekday.

Melanie knocked and the door was opened by a surprised Daisy. Melanie's eyes opened wide. Daisy usually stayed inside until the house was full.

"Hello," said Melanie, "I must be early?"

Daisy looked blank.

"Come in," she said, moving aside. Melanie came in, and looked around at the obviously empty house. Then it struck her, it was Saturday. Turning red, she asked if Lizzie was in. "No," said Daisy, "it's only me here."

"Oh dear . . . I think I got confused . . . I thought it was a weekday . . ."

Daisy laughed. It was a sweet laugh, though she was clearly a little tense.

"Please, sit for a while," Daisy said, finally. "Shall I get you some coffee? I was just fixing supper. Maybe tea?"

"No, nothing, please. Maybe water."

Daisy looked at her, clearly upset. "At least, some juice? No?"

Belatedly Melanie realized that Daisy was from Tropical, where it was an insult to ask for only water. The last thing she wanted was to insult the poor woman. The book of poems had touched her; they were all love poems, and they had gone straight to Melanie's heart.

"Juice, please! What do you have?"

Daisy brightened. "All kinds," she said smiling. Melanie requested her favorite, and they headed out to the kitchen.

It would be almost too much to say that they quickly became friends, but they did as well as could be expected from two very different personalities. They talked a lot about other things before they came to the main issue. They talked about the children, about Lizzie and Alison, Summer, the mission, and the ship.

"If you hate me, I would understand," Melanie said finally. "I know what I did to you, and all I can say is that—you had what I wanted, and I fought for her. And I have no right to your kindness. I did not come here to taunt you, or anything like that."

Daisy looked down at the table while Melanie said her say. Then she let out a tight breath. "It's not with you that I'm upset," she said. "It's with myself. I don't know what I was saving myself for." Another sigh. "I was too embarrassed, that my children would be shamed by—what she wanted." She raised her eyes to Melanie. "I deserved what you did to me."

Melanie felt great sympathy for the pale-skinned, pale-haired woman before her. She had such great charm, almost elfin grace.

She sighed too. "At least, it's such a relief that you don't hate me," she said softly. "Until you gave me that book, I was so unhappy!" She thought for a while. "Helen talks about you often," she admitted.

Daisy looked at her inquiringly. "You don't have to tell me," she said. "Good or bad—I'm not sure I want to know!"

"If it is good, why would you not want to know?"

"What good is it to know, when I have lost her?"

Melanie frowned. This was one of those things she hated. She hated talking with jealous women, who thought lovers were possessions. There were few people she had met with whom she cared to become intimate, because of the morass of foolish assumptions at the backs of their minds.

"How can you lose a _person?_ Is she dead? Has she gone away?"

"You know what I mean!" Daisy was angry. But Melanie was angrier.

"What she felt for you remains unchanged! What you felt for her is the same! Unless you wanted to keep her a slave, you have lost nothing!"

While outwardly she was furious, Melanie's anger was gone in less than a moment. Somehow, no matter how wrong she was, Daisy had become someone special. She was special to Helen, and that made a huge difference. Most of all, she was the mother of Lena, whom Helen adored. Melanie felt not one bit of jealousy that Helen could love another woman's child.

"Hasn't she told you?" Daisy asked softly. "Did she tell you anything, about . . ." How was she to explain to Melanie that Helen and she had their own twisted kind of intimacy? How could a woman who lay naked with Helen at night, who did god only knew what with her, understand the tenderness Daisy shared with her?

"Oh. Yes . . . yes, she told me. You have lost that, I know." Daisy marveled at the understanding in Melanie's face. Melanie studied her, and Daisy could see the sympathy in her eyes, and strangely, it did not hurt her. "I think she misses that," Melanie admitted. She gave Daisy a twisted smile. "I think it's so romantic."

There was a noise at the door, and Melanie started, guiltily. She noticed, with surprise, that Daisy did, too. Lena burst into the house, with Marissa on her hip. The children had been with Lena and Summer all afternoon. Summer walked in carrying Maya.

"There you are!" they exclaimed, seeing Melanie. "The house was all closed up!"

Daisy quickly handed them some snacks Lizzie had ready for them in the oven.

"Make sure they have something to drink," Daisy said to the girls. They were too busy eating and talking.

Daisy headed inside, to her room. She wanted to keep Melanie talking. She loved to watch her face, especially her eyes, when she was excited about something. Like her daughter, Daisy had fallen under the spell of Melanie's children, and she saw a lot of them in the mother. There was a kind of animal beauty about Melanie that drew Daisy. As she had hoped, Melanie followed her into her room.

"They'll leave us alone for a while," she said breathlessly. Melanie only smiled. She looked around the room, and saw the picture Daisy had pasted to her mirror. She gasped.

"Who did this?"

"Helen," Daisy admitted, her heart pounding. It was Helen she loved. But Melanie made her think startling thoughts, thoughts she did not know she was capable of.

Slowly she approached Melanie, and infinitely slowly she reached out to hold her, and pressed her lips against Melanie's soft mouth, and her body into Melanie's slim body. She was trembling. And Melanie held her gently, and kissed her. Without words, they kissed.

Daisy giggled, feeling an insane happiness. Melanie looked at her in alarm.

"I'm sorry!" Melanie stammered out.

Daisy stretched like a cat. She was pink, pleased with herself.

"No, _I_ should be sorry; I kissed you!" She backed away and sat in her chair. Her eyes were like stars as she looked merrily at Melanie. "Oh, you look so upset!"

"This is so not like you!" Melanie said, still bemused, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "What has come over you?"

"I wanted to kiss you, and I did!"

"Why did you want to kiss me?" Melanie asked, a little angrily. She was angry at herself because she had enjoyed the kiss very much indeed.

"Because—I'm lonely, and you're so sweet, and I'd rather kiss you than . . . anyone else."

Melanie shook her head, and covered her cheeks with her palms, and Daisy came to her and pulled away her hands.

"Don't cover that pretty face of yours," she said, "I want to see it!"

"What do you want from me, Daisy?" Daisy stood close to her, clearly excited, her hands playing with Melanie's hands. She was definitely seducing Melanie, in her own peculiar way. Daisy stopped it, making Melanie sad she had complained. She was understanding more and more the magic that was in Daisy, little pale Daisy.

"Whatever you're willing to give me," Daisy said breathlessly.

Nothing had really happened. Daisy was in a really peculiar mood, but somehow Melanie understood her. Helen had awoken—or begun to awaken—a deeper sensuality in the rather serious young woman, and she was reaching out to Melanie for something she was just beginning to realize she wanted, or needed. She had left no uncertainty in Melanie's mind about what she felt for Helen. But she trusted Melanie, and she was attracted to her, and she had been honest. Whatever Melanie was willing to give, it would be that much more than Daisy had up to then. They had kissed, several times, and then Daisy had asked, would she visit next Saturday, maybe? Melanie had said she would think about it. At least, they met every weekday for supper. I don't know how I'm going to behave, Daisy had said, blushing. When I look at you, I'll remember we have a secret! Well, Melanie had said, not much of one. Oh, Daisy had said, it is a _wonderful_ secret! Her eyes were alight, and her smile was so bright it had hurt Melanie's eyes.

The Choral Society, the amateur group that came together to sing for pleasure, moved its rehearsals to Sunday nights. They were now conducted alternately by Helen and Frank. Melanie and Daisy both joined the chorus, and stood together, making Helen feel really odd. She was pleased that they had made peace with each other, and felt a strange pride at having brought them together. But she could not help thinking that they shared stories about her. Perhaps they were not _that_ close, she told herself. Melanie refused to talk to Helen in bed about her friendship with Daisy.

The chorus was getting very good indeed. One of the senior members, old Roger Sumitomo died early in November, and there was a wonderful ceremony of remembrance for him. At Cass's request, Helen began rehearsing Handel's _Messiah_ with the group. By now, they had a small string orchestra with about twenty players, all that they needed. Together with a young fellow from the recreational electronics section, Helen managed to get started on a synthesizer that mimicked a moderate sized organ. Josh, the electronics side of the collaboration, was very enthusiastic, constantly coming to Helen with new ideas for stops, which were better and better the more Helen explained what she wanted. "Thirty-two polyphonic voices is easy. I think we can do 128! That's almost thirteen sounds for each of your fingers!" Helen had laughed and said that if you counted the pedal board, it was more like eleven. He had only beamed at her. He liked this game!

## Pilot

As plans moved inexorably towards the time when the cutter would be launched, things became more tense. Cass was becoming more and more obsessed with her idea of saving genetic material from the exploring team. Melanie had already been to the genetics lab and given a sample of her tissue, including several egg-cells, and similar samples had been taken from young Alan Rutkowski.

As the other members of the team were selected, twelve of them, Cass was driven to distraction with the safety of the crew, and the genetic loss to the ship. These were the cream of the cream of the bright young people of the ship, and Cass was naturally concerned with their safety, and whether the conditions of the mission might cause gene damage, so that they might not have healthy offspring when they returned, if they did return. It was in some ways a cold attitude to take, but in other ways, it was a very sensible one.

Most importantly, a pilot had not been found. Greg, who had studied the matter thoroughly, was not satisfied with the reflexes of anyone on the team. "This is terrible," he groaned. "We seem to have lost the ability to handle vehicles. I've seen it done, and you see it done in the simulation tapes, but there seems to be _no one_ who can pilot a ship manually!"

"What was the plan for manual piloting, Greg? Surely they must have foreseen that this problem might come up?"

"Well, kids were given simulator sessions until year forty, when someone seems to have decided to abandon it. Maybe Lizzie knows!"

Cass hastily steered the discussion away from what might become a witch-hunt.

"Why don't we get _everyone_ on the ship to try out? Maybe there's a natural!" suggested Jeannie.

Alison slapped her thigh. "I know someone who will almost certainly fit the profile," she said, with a crooked smile. "Helen Nordstrom!"

"Helen Nordstrom!" said Martha. "My goodness, she's a civilian—she's not even a technical type!"

"She's flown planes, did you know? She had a pilot's license!"

The faces all showed amazement.

"Why would she do such a thing? Didn't they have mass transit?"

Alison shrugged. "The privileged classes sometimes did strange things. And she was definitely of the privileged class."

"But she's joined the cutter team, and she works in the dock weekends," said the head of mechanical engineering. He looked at his screen and browsed for information while the others stared at him. "Been doing a good job, too."

"In the _dock?_ But that could be _dangerous!_ Who approved that idea?" demanded Cass, indignant. The head of mechanical calmly admitted that he had. "But, she's _Sleeper One!_ What if she gets hurt?"

"No one has ever got hurt in the Dock, Cass," he said firmly. "This is not Earth. And minor cuts and bruises are no threat to her safety, surely you know that."

"But it's zero-g conditions, and her long hair . . ."

"The point is," said Alison, "can she fly the cutter?"

It turned out that she could. "It handles beautifully," she said, calmly putting the cutter simulator through its paces. Everything they asked of her she could do. She had an incredible feel for 3-dimensional geometry, for the dynamics of free fall, for all the procedures that would be necessary. For the really complex, un-intuitive space piloting, Alan was there. But for manual handling, Helen beat the socks off Alan.

Cass sat with her head in her hands. To her Helen Nordstrom was one of the most precious things on the ship. Somehow Helen made the ship something wonderful, something that had potential. Without her, or even if she was injured in some way, _nothing_ would be the same.

"So it's back to square one," Cass said heavily. "We _can't_ send her. We must do the whole mission on autopilot. The computer will have to fly the thing."

The others raised their voices to argue. Helen had been off during the whole discussion, getting a cup of tea from the kitchenette. When she came back, she found the place in an uproar.

"What's going on? What's the noise about?" she asked Alison.

Twenty voices explained it to her at once. She laughed and motioned for quiet. "Now, one at a time! Chief Cass?"

"You're the best pilot we have on board, Helen, but I refuse to send you on the mission."

"Cass," Helen said, her eyes wide, "I want to go!"

But in the end, Cass got her way. Helen was conscripted to teach piloting to Alan and Melanie. What the simulator programs could not do, Helen was able to do, by simply talking to them as they handled the controls. "Imagine that it's just a large spinning stick, and you're riding it," she would say. "Just _throw_ it towards the left—just a little nudge—let it coast, now . . . counter the yaw a bit . . . a little more, so that you're lined up when you hit . . . cut in the approach handler, lock it in. Just stay ready to fire jets three and four . . . _now!_ See? It was easy!"

"You can do _anything!_ " Melanie breathed later, as they headed home together. Melanie clung to Helen, who pulled them home. They shamelessly kissed and touched each other as they went; it was not a heavily traveled tube at that time of night.

"It's just . . . a kind of dance," Helen said. " _You_ should be good at it, love . . . it's just a matter of imagining what's going to happen, and fooling with the controls, to get what you want."

"You have to have a feel for that kind of _mass!_ "

"But you've had a baby! You remember being big and heavy, and learning to balance somehow!"

Melanie pretended to be angry at being reminded of that. But she knew she was in love with Helen far more than she had ever dreamed was possible.

They coasted along the long stretch. There was always a slight acceleration towards the tail—the _south_ —and they could use their hands to keep themselves centered in the tube, and to touch each other.

"It's going to be hell to be away from you," Melanie whispered.

"I love you," Helen said. "I'm going to miss you too. And you have the mission to keep you distracted! What do I have?"

"It's only for a year," Melanie said, miserably.

Three Saturdays, Daisy and Melanie spent an hour together. Daisy was like a child, taking pleasure in little things. She loved Melanie's breasts, and caressed them endlessly. And Melanie loved Daisy's lips, and kissed them whenever she got the chance. Under her loving hands, Daisy blossomed like a flower. "Your name is perfect for you," Melanie said, as she bent over Daisy in bed. Daisy cupped her breasts—an exquisite feeling.

"I love my name," Daisy said softly, and said it to herself. "Daisy! I love it now, but I used to hate it. I preferred Rose, or Lily, or Violet."

"Or Petunia."

Daisy giggled. "Do you like me?"

Melanie sighed. Daisy asked that all the time. She should know the answer by now.

"I'm going, Daisy. Next Friday."

Daisy pulled her close and clung to her. There was knocking in the distance. Daisy hoped someone would get it. But it got more insistent. She raised her lips and kissed Melanie hard, and then rolled out of bed. Melanie grumbled. "There's someone at the door," Daisy said, pulling on her underwear. Melanie sat up in bed in alarm, and began to dress.

It was Helen.

"Where are the kids?" she demanded of Daisy at the doorstep. Melanie hid inside Daisy's room, trying to make herself go out and face Helen, but getting no help from her cowardly legs.

"Calm down," Daisy said, trying not to look so guilty, "the girls took them on a walk!"

"Oh. Well, I'm off to the choir," Helen said, and turned on her heel and left.

"Phew," said Melanie.

"I think she knew," said Daisy, eyes wide in dismay.

It doesn't matter, thought Melanie. There were more serious things to worry about.

On Wednesday, there was a big event in Temperate in honor of the mission team. It began with the introduction of each member of the team, ending with Melanie, the mission commander. They all looked efficient and sexy in their sleek mission uniforms. They had been doing daily training in the area around the ship in space suits. They had been in the dock, practicing making repairs to the cutter. Helen had been there to watch, and had to admit that each member of the cutter crew knew the craft well. It was all from video simulation, but they had certainly learned it. On the following day, they would pilot the craft in the vicinity of the ship, practicing docking it, and close maneuvers. It was like driving a car around in an empty parking-lot on a Sunday morning, Helen thought. She was to be with them as they tried it out. Helen felt excited and nervous. The thought that she, Sleeper One, was the best living pilot on the ship was cause for alarm. By now, though, Helen had admitted that Alan and Melanie were fair pilots. They would have been hopeless in traffic, but they would do on an empty road.

Helen led the chorus and orchestra in one of the more exciting choruses of the Messiah, by request from Cass, followed by a popular song about heroes from the previous century. All the while, Melanie sat with the team, each of whom was accompanied by a spouse or _significant other,_ as the saying went. Melanie alone sat with her two daughters. The girls had been dressed by Helen and her in simple red-and-black dresses and hose, for the cold weather, and wore little red ribbons in their hair. Melanie longed to have Helen sit with her, or at least acknowledged as her lover. But for obvious reasons, Helen was on the podium, and except for the occasional smile at her, was not identified as being anything but a friend. Melanie fought hard not to cry. It wasn't professional to let such matters affect you. But by now, her life revolved around the triple suns of the children, Helen, and the mission. And the mission was a jealous mistress.

After the event, Helen and Melanie left the auditorium together, and the cameras filmed them leaving. Cass and Art were a little ahead of them, and Alison and her family were a little behind. Eventually, Alison and Daisy and Lizzie and the children were walking with them, all talking about how lovely the event had been. They all walked round Melanie, their representative on the mission, and told her how proud of her they were.

"I don't want to go," said Melanie in a little voice. "I'm a little scared!"

They all were quiet, proud of Melanie's honesty, but sympathetic. They knew Melanie would go, in the end, but they were silent, not knowing what to say.

"Of _course_ you are," said Lena, squeezing her arm. "It shows that you're not just an idiot kid."

"Well said," Helen murmured.

That night, Melanie held Helen tight. They did not make love, they just held each other.

"You know," Melanie said to Helen, on the brink of tears, "you know how I wanted you, and I made you bring me back to your home?"

"Yes," Helen answered.

"I was crazy about you, but . . . now, after these few weeks together, I . . . I want there to be something between us, some way that I can feel: she's mine, we are a family, we are _one!"_

"Do you want to make love?" Helen asked, desire welling up in her. It was always close to the surface, when she was near Melanie. Tonight she had held back, out of respect for Melanie's special needs.

"No! Helen . . . Cass wants me to have a child. A clone."

"Yes. You don't have to, love; not unless you want to."

"Helen, will _you_ have my child?"

It took Helen a while to understand, but when she did, it was a wonderful feeling in her heart, like fireworks.

"Yes! Oh Melanie, of course, yes! With all my heart!"

Helen had imagined having a child of her own, but the appeal of having a child in the first place had palled, because it would be simply a clone, and there would be _nothing of anyone else's_ in it. How lonely it would be, to hold the girl in her arms, and to know that if anyone but Helen loved the child, it was simply as an extension of Helen herself. Of course, Melanie would love it, because she loved Helen.

But to have _Melanie's_ child—how wonderful that would be! It would be something she could cherish, to hold and love during the time Melanie was on the mission, like holding Melanie herself!

"If anything happens to me . . ." Melanie had begun, and Helen had shaken her head.

"There will never be another you," she had said. "You are far more than what is contained in these genes. Your life, the people who have changed you . . . For you, I am a lover. For the baby, I'll be a mother! She'll be completely different! She will be more like a twin, a sister."

Melanie had buried her face in Helen's breast, something she did when she was so full of emotion that she could barely contain herself.

"If I could only feel what the baby would feel! Do you understand how I love you?"

Helen shook her head in wonder.

## The Trial Maneuvers

Helen wore her technician's uniform, black and yellow, now. She had graduated from orange. The mission team were in place inside the cutter, securely strapped down, with Helen at the controls, and the ground crew were mostly behind safety barriers, wearing vacuum suits and helmets, ready to run out if necessary. The dock doors were closed behind them, and the bay doors, once opened, pointed straight out of the Voyager, into space. Helen gave the ready sign, and the air was pumped out, leaving as little as possible. The ship hoarded its air jealously. It would have to last centuries.

"Aren't you afraid?" Melanie asked. The other eleven mission team members looked at Melanie with disapproval.

"It's just like a plane, Mel," Helen said. She switched on the audio and said, "Go ahead, open the bay doors, please."

They were all ready for the fact that the ship was rotating. The bay doors opened slowly, and they could feel the vibration through the hull, faint and smooth. Then, there were the stars, slowly falling from view. Helen turned on the jets, and slipped out of the dock. Melanie gasped. They were free of the ship. Behind them, the bay doors closed, and Helen briskly made the maneuver that matched orbits with the ship. The ship rotated off to their right, and they rode free parallel to it.

The first maneuver was to go back inside the ship. With agonizing patience, Helen positioned the craft, matched rotations, and an hour later, got the cutter inside the bay.

As soon as the bay doors were closed, Helen called for a conference.

"Can you de-spin the dock and bay? I can see from outside what looks like independent bearings! You can decouple this section, can't you?"

The technicians looked at her as if she had betrayed them. But she was right; the collar containing the mechanical facility could be decoupled from the axis of the ship, just like the nacelle. It hadn't been done in three quarters of a century, but they did it. The bearings groaned, and then they were turning. The view out through the tiny portholes showed the star field still.

Inside, Helen was explaining how this simplified the procedure. Once again she signaled readiness, the doors opened, Helen jetted out, and with great ease, performed a number of maneuvers. Then each member of the team who was certified to pilot the craft tried out the controls. Helen was almost dizzy with excitement, that she had helped the mission in this way. She had never dreamed, when she learned to pilot a plane, that her skills would be put to such amazing use. Piloting a rocket craft was different in major ways, but Helen's training had helped immensely.

Helen was immensely proud when Melanie brought the craft into the bay as smooth as silk, after which Alan took her out, did a major maneuver around the ship, and brought it back inside.

_This is insane,_ Helen thought to herself, as Melanie snuggled against her that night. _They've had one day of practice piloting the craft, and now they're off in the morning._ She wanted to go so bad she could think of nothing else. Then she remembered the less dramatic event that had taken place that evening. Helen had gone up to the med center, and had the egg-cell they had created from Melanie's tissue implanted in her uterine wall. She was pregnant with Melanie's child. I have to stay and look after the children, she thought, _all three of them._

# Year 74: Launching the Cutter

## Helen alone with the Children

The next morning, Helen and the kids went up to mission control with Melanie. Melanie kissed them all, and went into the briefing room one last time with the others. She came out dressed in the official mission uniform, looking so sexy that Helen was jealous. Who knew what would go on in there? There was a young nurse who took charge of the children. Helen headed out to the room from which Helen could observe the initial moves of the cutter, and watch it take off. In the tradition of the space service, Helen had been appointed one of three communications voices, to speak to the team periodically.

There was a silent countdown. The gear had been stowed, the crew was on board, Helen was in her seat, and the command came to go. The bay doors opened, and smoothly the cutter slipped out, turned to the star towards which the Voyager was pointing, and took off with hardly any drama. They were gone. Helen kept calm with an effort.

"How's everything on board?" Helen asked, at the prompting of the specialists at her elbow.

"Hear you loud and clear," said Alan, "everything looks fine."

"Keep talking, Alan," Helen said. It was just a reminder. Alan had been taught to talk through the procedures. It was just possible that only the voice record would survive the mission, providing the only clues for causes of any unforeseen crises.

"Been following the autonavigator so far . . . just cutting in the autopilot . . . she's on her own. We seem hardly moving at all, though we're feeling the gees very slightly. Oh . . . the ship has almost disappeared." His voice disappeared for a few seconds, and then faded back in. ". . . The only clue that we're moving at all! Just hanging here, in the middle of nowhere . . ." His voice gave them a vivid feeling for how frightening it was. ". . . It's very alarming," he finished.

_Get the others to say something,_ Chelsea Frank prompted. "Can you get the rest of the crew to say something, Alan?"

"This is Melanie," came the beloved voice of the mission-commander. "We're still powering in, so there's a little weight. After the excitement, it's . . . just a bit intimidating. But we're happy to be here; we're proud to be representing so many fine people. Here's Chisako."

"Hello, this is Chisako. Yes, it's scary, but it's also very pretty. The color—what is that—the . . ." there was a bit of a hubbub as Chisako must have asked around for the exact word she wanted, ". . . the _contrast!_ Yes, the contrast is much better. It would be even better if it was optical glass, but," she laughed, "we know we need the shielding! Helen, are there a lot of people watching?"

"Almost a 100%," Helen reported, looking at the notes somebody handed her. "There are 200 sets tuned in! You could turn on the video for a while."

That was a code phrase to the team that it was deemed safe to cut in the video feed. It had been decided that the encrypted monitors from the craft would be monitored by specialists only. As far as the ship's population knew, the voice/video channel could either carry high-quality sound only, or low-quality sound/video. Suddenly the monitor screen came alive with decent video of the inside of the ship, and the crew waving at the camera. The camera had its own microphones, and they heard the team call out greetings to their friends and families. They looked sleepy, but that was because the cabin was kept at very low light levels whenever possible. Helen's heart seemed to stop as the unique head and profile of the woman whom she had come to love in the brief space of a little over a month. Her hair had been cut to shoulder length, and she looked unbalanced, her chin too long, her forehead sloped too far back. _My child will look just like that,_ Helen thought to herself, and quickly handed the microphone to Chelsea and stumbled to her feet, dabbing at her eyes.

Chelsea frowned at Helen, and took over. The relationship between Helen and Melanie was known only to a few, and Chelsea obviously assumed that it was one of the men who inspired such strong feelings in Helen.

"Come on," said a low voice near Helen's shoulder, "get a grip on yourself. You have a job to do!" It was Alison.

"I just need a short break," Helen whispered. "I'll go check on the kids." That much people knew: Melanie's children had been given to Helen for the duration of the trip.

"Where's Mama?" asked Marissa politely.

"She's gone on the rocket, darling; she'll be gone for a long time. We explained that to you this morning!"

"No! She didn't go! She's inside there!" she declared, pointing into the communications room. Helen looked at the nurse and asked whether there was a monitor in the children's room.

"Yes, but is it a good idea?"

"I don't know!" said Helen at her, helplessly. "Let's put it on for a bit, anyway!"

" _Mama!_ " cried the little girls, pointing at the wall screen. On screen, Melanie was re-tying her hair in that provocative way that made her breasts push out, making the pulse race of anyone who had a pulse at all. It was unconscious now. The slanted eyes slid sideways, and Helen could clearly see Melanie notice someone watching her. She immediately tucked her elbows close to her body, and Helen smiled. What did it matter? Everyone expected liaisons to form among the team members. Cass herself had counseled Helen and Melanie. _You have to settle between yourselves how you feel about that. It's just inhuman to expect celibacy for a year under stress._ Melanie had confided to Helen that she knew she could not hold out. May as well get it over with early, she had decided. If I hold out, then when it happens, it's going to be traumatic. Cass had agreed, clearly impressed by Melanie's maturity and honesty. Helen had bowed her head and accepted it. She was in no position to protest. She had had many more lovers on Earth than Melanie could ever believe.

"Look!" said Maya again, not really concerned yet. The tiny hand pointed in that awkward way that was so endearing. Her fingers were still hardly an inch long, though they were awfully hard to remove when she grabbed hold of your hair.

Marissa's reaction was different. Somehow she had decided that her mother was irretrievably far away. The face was ready to cry, but she was still too fascinated with the scene on the monitor to be distracted. The little girl's intelligence frightened Helen sometimes. She had had her own prejudices about those who were descended from the island peoples. She still did not know Melanie's exact origins, though she suspected it was some place exotic, like Tahiti.

"Do you want Peggy to get you some ice cream?" Helen asked, too upset to think clearly.

"Yes!" said Maya. "No," said Marissa, "I want to watch."

Six hours later, when Helen handed her microphone over to the young fellow who relieved her and went out to the little nursery that had been set up, the kids were sleeping in their little cots. They were quite accustomed to weightlessness now, and the nurse reported that they had caused very little fuss. _They know I'm here_ , Helen thought to herself. It was a wonderful thought, as well as a frightening one. The other children who had been there with nurse Peggy had all been taken home, including Chisako's little Yoko, a little thing of Maya's age, and Gary, Alan and Chelsea's baby.

## New Routines

It was hard to settle down to a routine, with the mission hanging over their heads. Everyone was working eighteen-hour days. Cass would not let up her crazy schedule of doubling everyone's work commitment. The school kids responded beautifully, though indeed Cass had encouraged everyone to make the added load for kids as interesting as possible. The older students in the academy, too, were deeply involved in the mission. In addition, everyone was working hard at their evening classes, but it was difficult to tell how happy they were with it.

Helen spent a portion of her days up in communications. The communications room had essentially shut down for nearly fifty years, since the ship had moved too far away from Earth to carry on a meaningful two-way conversation with the home planet. The data packets that had been sent regularly every few months had been processed automatically for a few years, until they stopped coming; now the present mission had made it necessary to open up the room and make it operational.

After a day, there was already a multi-second time-lag between questions and answers, even with the ingenious arrangements for interleaving between the outgoing and incoming channel. Helen would talk over the incoming messages, unless something caught her attention. The team could pause the audio for up to six seconds, without interrupting the flow of communication. The encoder eliminated silence for greatest efficiency.

Melanie's questions were always: How are you, how are the children? By now, Helen thought, everyone must know that we're very close. Perhaps some would suspect we're in love. Helen had carefully avoided thinking of their relationship in those terms—they loved each other, yes. But to be _in love_ . . . she hadn't dared to think on those lines. She must try to put an equal amount of eagerness into her voice when inquiring about the others.

The children had woken up that first morning in Helen's bed, where she had put them, and looked around for their mother. Maya had just been weaned, but she had climbed up on Helen and looked for her breast just the same. Then she had pulled Helen's eyelid open, and peered in.

"Mama?"

"Where's Mama, Helen?" asked Marissa softly. "Is she gone?"

Helen had nodded, "Yes, darling. She'll be back for your birthday next year. But I'll take care of you, all right?"

Marissa had nodded, but Maya had frowned and shaken her head. It was enormous, and so were her black eyes. Some of her baby fat seemed to have left her face even during the last several weeks. Sophisticated ideas could be seen behind those black pools, only waiting for the vocabulary to be expressed. Seeing her sister agree, Maya had nodded. Did they not want to anger Helen, or had they realized that it was beyond Helen's power to get their mother back? In any case, they clung to Helen, and Helen felt that incredible feeling that all parents learn: the strength that comes from the faith of little children.

Helen got up, and got the little ones washed and dressed. They loved getting Helen to wash them—perhaps Melanie was a little too particular about hygiene—and they were accustomed to the routine now. Then Helen seated Marissa on a high seat from where she could see everything, and put Maya in a papoose sling, from where she looked over Helen's shoulder, one hand twined in her hair. While she cooked, Helen told them a story about a brother and sister.

It was only to fill the silence; Helen was paying hardly any attention to the story. But as soon as she paused for too long, there was a tug in her hair, and Marissa politely inquired what happened next. So Helen had to take the story seriously.

"So their aunt had to take them out to the store, and get them new clothes. But guess what?"

"What?" asked Marissa. "What?" echoed Maya near Helen's ear. Sometimes the little tyke would drool down her ear, and it was gross. (She was being good just then. She had been fascinated by Helen's ear piercings, and Helen had had to take them out.)

"Well, there were two little girls in the store, with their mother. And the lady said, oh, look here! Don't you want these pants anymore? And the children's mama said, oh no, they are too thin, and we need warm clothes. But the mother of the two girls said, but we would love those clothes, because we're going over to live in Ocean! Can we have the clothes please?"

"Yes!" said Marissa quickly. "The little girls should have them!"

Helen turned to the little girl and smiled and nodded. "That's what they did! Is that a good story?" Marissa nodded, all smiles.

Already, Helen could feel the changes in her. This time they were far more extreme than they had been during her first pregnancy. Helen shut her mind to that thought, and focused on the feelings the little seed was creating in her.

"Would you two girls like a little baby sister to play with?" she had asked.

" _Another_ one?" asked Marissa in an incredulous tone. "Not Maya?"

Helen shook her head, smiling beatifically. "A new one, a tiny little girl."

Maya had grabbed Helen's head and turned it to face her. She was very strong.

"A baby?" she had asked. "Coming here?" she had nodded vigorously in approval, even as she asked the question. Helen winced at the pain, but affirmed the statement. Maya had then given her a wet slobbering kiss.

## On the Mission

The twelve members of the crew consisted of Melanie, Alan, Chisako, Barb Allman, Bruce Philips, Chuck Bondi, Mimi Sanchez, Gene Kalinov, Ken Durham, Ole Swenson, and Michael and Kevin Bruno. Of them, Melanie knew only Alan, Chisako and Barb really well. The others were essentially strangers, though they had trained together for weeks. Bruce, Chuck, and the Brunos were an aggressive bunch, and Melanie was wary of them. Mimi seemed to be a nice girl, and the other three men seemed nice, too. Her taste in men seemed to have changed; she used to like confident men.

Melanie found it hard to sleep the first two sleep rotations. The first time she was alone in her bunk, she wept softly, holding her pillow in her arms, and whispering soft words of love to it. Each of the four of those asleep was in his or her private world of misery, around her, and Melanie's tender heart went out to them. But it was still too soon to comfort, or to seek comfort. She managed to sleep six of the eight hours she was allotted.

The little galley was loaded with meals for the next couple of weeks. They carried rations for a year, but there was normal food for the first half of the mission. The cutter had been enlarged to three times its original size, and the dock and the bay had also been expanded to accommodate it. The craft they were in was the size of a large passenger aircraft from around the year 2000, though a lot of it was shielding. Melanie was not only the commander, she was also in charge of the galley. It had made Helen laugh, but it was a practical matter; Melanie and Helen still prepared most of their food. All the others except Chisako came from families that ate in the cafeterias, and had no idea of food preparation, even if it was just warming pre-packaged food. Alison and Art had arranged for a variety of food to be put on board, because it would be something to relieve the boredom of the long trip out and back.

"I've made breakfast," Melanie announced softly to each of the sleepers. Then she went to the flight deck, and strapped herself in, sending Alan back to sleep. Presently Chisako came up to keep her company. She said the breakfast was excellent. Chisako was easy to please, and good company. "You're fixing lunch," Melanie reminded her. Chisako smiled and nodded.

"We're not moving," she said, gesturing out the thick armored glass. She knew perfectly well that they were accelerating still, and were traveling as fast as the ship, or faster.

"Look at the star," Melanie suggested.

Chisako glanced carelessly at Phoebus, and did a double-take. Already the star had a visible disk. Just then a klaxon sounded, and the radar screen showed a rapidly approaching piece of irregular-shaped debris.

Melanie grabbed the controls, her heart in her mouth. But already the automatic avoidance routines had cut in and they angled ever so slightly, and whatever the object was, it was raked with the laser. Immediately the spectroscopes went into action, and the scoop designed by Daisy's team tried to collect as much as it could as they streaked by the thing.

"What was that?" came Helen's voice over the radio several seconds later. "We observed you swerve just now!"

"Some debris," Melanie replied, trying to sound calm. "I'm just getting a reading. Potassium, water, carbon, carbonates, aluminum. Looks wonderful!"

"Dirty ice," said Helen's voice presently. "Can you see more of that stuff?"

"Nothing," Melanie had said.

The time lag gave Melanie a great sense of remoteness, which caused ambiguous feelings for her. It told Melanie that she was far from home, but it was unbelievably exciting. Having lived all her life with everyone she knew within an hour of her, at the very most, this experience was fearful in its strangeness.

"How are you doing, Helen?" She knew her voice trembled. She dared not look at Chisako.

"I'm fine," said Helen's voice several more seconds later. "The kids are fine, too. We'll be seeing Yoko this afternoon, Chisako, if you're there!"

"Yes, I'm here, Helen," answered Chisako, surprised and pleased. "Thank you for checking on her!" She looked at Melanie with interest. The little touch of color on the girl's face had not gone unnoticed by the pretty oriental. "Melanie made a nice breakfast this morning, I must tell you!" Helen, when her reply came through, had made some neutral remark congratulating Melanie. Chisako would have to try much harder to confirm any suspicious she may have had.

Melanie heard a noise aft, and saw Ken and Barb come in together, looking anxious. They were late, and apologized. Melanie shrugged. "Log yourselves in," she directed, quietly. It was too early in the mission to create any ill feeling by pulling people up about punctuality. She was one of the younger members of the mission, and Ken was a little older—not that it mattered.

"We felt something," Barb said, looking anxious.

"A near miss," Melanie said, savoring their alarm. Served them right for being late. "The autopilot kicked in on cue."

"Phew!" said Barb, visibly relieved.

They strapped themselves in. Ken was a navigation specialist, and began to review the position of the cutter relative to the star and the Voyager. The program Greg and the navigation team had put together was flexible, but it required frequent course corrections. The Voyager was now far to the rear and their right, and Ken began to take sightings of the ship, to calibrate their path. He was clearly anxious, beads of perspiration on his brow.

"What's the matter?" Melanie asked, as they worked together.

"These speeds are so damn high; my mind can't deal with it!"

Melanie frowned at him in mock reproach.

"It's all been planned for, Ken. We have time to make corrections. Let's calm down and just do it."

It was just enough off from the expected values to make Ken sweat again. Melanie simply keyed in the correction firing of the engines, and they felt the ship turn slightly, and resume its acceleration.

For a while, the four of them stared at the monitor.

"Let's get started with the scheduled tasks," Melanie said gently. The others went to their stations, and Melanie hailed the Voyager once again. Helen was gone, it was Chelsea at the comm post. They began to talk about the data stream from the cutter, and the course correction. Already the time lag was doubled from earlier in the day. Melanie began to feel strangely afraid that she would never see her children again. It was an irrational fear, and she was careful not to mention it to the others.

There was plenty to do. The most demanding was the navigation. In spite of all that could be done electronically, there was a great deal to be manually keyed in. After that was done, they were expected to begin the process of studying the system. The ship's computer had already told them something of the planet's composition; it had a thin atmosphere consisting mostly of inert gases—which was good, provided they were not dangerous isotopes—and what they thought was Nitrogen. Now they strained their instruments to get better views of the planet. They did not have the technology to waste a sophisticated probe out to survey the planet, but one small probe with a simple camera was available for launching.

Volumes of data came from the ship in compressed packets for them to read. Greg and his team relayed the data from the robot probe, and their most recent plans for the Ship's trajectory. They could achieve a kind of powered orbit that would keep their speed higher than a free-fall orbit. It was expensive, but they expected to make _some_ addition to their fuel reserves.

The days wore on. Helen found the sessions at the comm post less trying. They restricted voice communication with the cutter to just a few hours per shift, and let the various area specialists make a recording that they could compress and send out, for the crew to listen to at leisure.

The cutter was accelerating a great deal more than the ship, and already it was more than a tenth of the way in, several days into the mission. Furthermore, once the star got it in its grip, it would be pulled in still faster.

Melanie had settled into the leadership of the mission. Half her shift was shared with one of the other groups, and half with the rest, so that two-thirds of the group was awake at any one time. She and Chisako had become very close, but she dared not approach Chisako too intimately, for fear of ruining their working relationship, which was perfect.

It was with some surprise that Melanie found Alan standing near her bunk one evening, his face a study in misery. The lights in the sleeping area were low, as always, and she could just barely see Alan's face in the low illumination of her berth.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," came the reply. He sounded far from the confident navigator.

"I'm ready," Melanie said quietly. She slid back, making room for him. She was glad it had been him. "It's kind of a relief," she admitted.

Alan rested his head on the edge of the berth, and began to sniff loudly. He was crying. Melanie got a good strong grip on his arm and pulled hard. He resisted at first, but then, wiping his eyes, he climbed in with her.

"I miss Chelsea and the baby," he said simply.

Melanie kissed him softly. "When we get back," she said, "I'll make things right with her!"

## Helen Has A Passenger

Helen was beginning to feel the pregnancy. This time, she felt the hormonal changes a little more violently than in past pregnancies; the nausea was intense, but passed quickly. Mary Beth came very early, allowing Helen a brief run before the children woke and insisted on helping with breakfast. They were respectful and polite to Mary Beth, but distant. For her part, she left them alone, never trying to feed them or dress them, or make friends with them.

After breakfast, Helen and Maya walked Marissa to her school, and then they went out to the Collegium. Helen taught her classes until noon, after which she and Maya picked Marissa up, and headed out to the comm room. After a couple of hours of chatting to the crew—if chatting was the right word for the highly discontinuous conversation they conducted—Helen went back down to Temperate, and did a variety of other things depending on what day of the week it was. Sometimes it was back in the dock, working on the new cutter they were building, just in case. Sometimes, it was an extra rehearsal for a performance somewhere. Sometimes it was to work on an instrument down at the little instrument factory out near the commune. Sometimes it was to visit another segment, to meet with one or more of the team of music instructors who were spread out over the ship now, teaching singing in all the schools.

On weekends, Lena and Summer came by to visit once more. And then, one Saturday, Daisy came. The little girls adored Lena and Summer, and while they played, Helen sat and talked with Daisy.

At first, Daisy was a little reserved. But after a while, she poured out her misery to Helen.

She said how she had begun to have feelings for Melanie, and how she could hardly sleep at night for fear Melanie would not be back.

For less than a second, Helen felt her heart burn with fury. Then the passion was gone, and she was able to comfort Daisy. "I know how you feel," she said quietly. "All we can do is wait!"

"I thought you might be angry with me," Daisy said. "I kind of hoped you would."

"Why?" asked Helen, frowning in puzzlement.

Daisy shook her head. "You could never understand the guilt of it. I almost enjoyed having her."

"Daisy . . . how can you enjoy feeling guilt?"

"I don't know," Daisy said, averting her eyes. "I don't understand half the things I feel."

It was a disturbing visit. Helen cautiously questioned Daisy about various details, trying to get a feel for what she was thinking, and as far as she could tell, Daisy had not changed her ways very much; it seemed that all her guilty pleasures had to do with Helen. It was all her way of possessing _some part_ of Helen, having given her away to Melanie.

Helen hugged her briefly and Daisy left, wiping her eyes. Helen sighed; once the baby was born, she would want companionship again, and most likely she would turn to Daisy. But for the moment, the children were all she needed, and she was content to leave things that way.

When Helen went to visit the medical center for a routine checkup six weeks later, she received a shock. She was told that both fetuses were doing well.

" _Both?_ There's only supposed to be _one!"_

"Oh, Miss Helen, please don't be upset; we thought you knew! There's the little girl cloned from Miss Arnaud, and . . ."

"Yes! Melanie's baby!"

"And then, your own little girl!"

"What!"

"Yes! The Chief was very clear; you were both supposed to get cloned!"

Helen picked up the little girls, her face all red, and went home and sat down and cried for a while. It was not that she didn't want to carry her own child, but that they would put her at risk without even her knowledge and consent. She picked up the phone and called Cass.

"I take full responsibility, Helen," the latter said quietly. "But I couldn't bear to see you go through pregnancy twice! The risk is very low. We have a perfect record on board ship, and we can see you through. I'm very confident. How are you doing so far?"

"Fine. But as the thing progresses . . ."

Cass interrupted her.

"I've been waiting for you to call me," she said. "I can arrange for you to have live-in help, Helen. Whom would you like? That Mary Beth? She seems a decent sort. Or Lucy? Anyone you like. There have been a number of volunteers, but you decide."

"Volunteers?" Helen was so furious, she had no words. Unfortunately, she could see how Cass might think that this was more efficient, unfeeling though it seemed, to be treated like a mere incubator. "I can manage, thanks!"

There was a silence.

"Helen . . . I swear I thought it would be less difficult for you. I could have asked you to allow your baby to be put in someone else; but I was afraid of complicating your life still further. You don't know how fearful I am." Her voice sounded fearful, certainly. Helen knew Cass and Alison were preoccupied with the size of the gene pool they carried with them.

"I'm too upset to talk right now," Helen said. "I'm going to hang up. I'll call back later."

A few minutes later, Lena arrived, with a suitcase.

"What's up?"

"Aunt Helen . . . could I move in with you? I could help with the children!"

"You belong with your mother and . . . Lena, who sent you here?"

"I offered to come!"

Cass had approached the little girl, and she had agreed at once. She was the only one Helen would have accepted, and she did.

Lena was an intelligent and practical helper. She automatically took over a number of responsibilities from Helen, and in addition did anything Helen wanted her to do. It was a dream come true, to have Lena help with the kids, the groceries, the cooking, the cleaning; and even the tasks they performed together went so much more smoothly, just because she was company.

The next morning, while Helen and Lena were getting the girls ready for the day, Helen cried out softly, and stopped what she was doing.

"What?" asked Lena.

"I think I felt something . . ." Helen said, a curious expression on her face. "Like a movement, inside, a kind of tiny touch! Oh Lena, she's alive!" Lena hurried over and put her arms round Helen, her eyes dreamy.

"Is it the baby?" asked Marissa, eyes wide.

"I think so," said Helen, with a smile.

## Help Arrives

As Helen feared, her libido returned a couple of months into the pregnancy. All she could do was to indulge in the joys of looking at pictures of women she had smuggled on board with great nervousness. Hidden among her music books were a few select girlie magazines, featuring some of the most beautiful women she had seen. Helen had barely begun to show, and she had put on weight so uniformly that it disguised her belly. After she looked over several pages of one of her magazines, she could close her eyes and imagine the girl, standing right in front of her . . .

"They're both fast asleep," said Lena.

Helen's eyes popped wide open. Lena stood looking intently at the magazine.

"Can I see?" she asked, and bent over the photographs eagerly.

Helen was paralyzed. Lena turned the pages, fascinated. Then she came to one photograph—by no means one of Helen's actual favorites—and Lena's eyes grew wide with wonder.

"Wow," she breathed reverently. "She's gorgeous!"

Helen looked. The girl was a slim brunette with long, wavy hair, and beautiful almond eyes, much like Lena's own. But there the resemblance ended. The woman had full breasts, and lovely legs and rounded thighs, and a firm flat stomach. Lena licked her lips.

Helen was amazed. Lena was a lot further along than she had realized. She felt sick with worry, wondering whether she, Helen, had anything to do with Lena's precociousness. But she was struck with the honesty, the lack of any suggestion of lewdness in her talk.

"She's really pretty, yes," Helen said calmly.

Lena looked up at Helen thoughtfully.

"You miss Melanie, huh."

"Very much." Helen smiled. "But it isn't so bad, now that you're here. I mostly missed the company; doing stuff together, not being alone!"

Lena nodded. "I know," she said.

They sat quietly, each thinking her own thoughts.

"Aunt Helen, could you leave this book where I can read it, when I . . . when I get in the mood for that kind of stuff?"

"I don't know, Lena . . . I don't want you showing it to the little girls, or Summer . . . I guess it's something private. It's a little hard to explain."

"No, I won't, promise. I understand. It's private for me, too. There's some things I don't want Summer to see."

Helen sighed. It was a hard decision. The last thing she needed was to contribute to the corruption of a child, as the phrase went. Yet this particular magazine, fortunately, was dedicated to nothing but nudity, and while Helen considered the situation, she could find no element of corruption in it. At this point, she either had to send Lena home, or accept the fact that Lena could find the booklet around the house, now that she knew it existed. Helen would lock up the others, but this one had been liberated.

And so it happened that Lena discovered girlie pictures—albeit of a rather innocent variety—in Helen's possession.

Lena's birthday was in late June. It was hard to believe that she was just twelve, on the one hand, and no older. But, on the other hand, it was hard to believe that she had grown so much so fast. She was Summer's height now, a little more than five feet, her face more rounded, her lips fuller, her breasts beginning to show. There was a greater variety of expression in her eyes, and her intelligence was almost painfully keen, especially in regard to relationships and feelings and emotions. She was becoming an accomplished violinist, better than anyone except Helen herself. And she had a true, clear voice that was acquiring a great range of emotional expression, under the firm control of her mind. In addition to Summer, she had a small group of friends, and a gradually widening group of admirers among the opposite sex.

Summer, now fourteen, was still her best friend. Fred, the caterpillar, had long escaped his—or her—bottle, and Summer had become more interested in galaxies and pulsars and fractals.

Both girls liked to accompany Helen to visit the hippie commune and the Dropout camp, mostly because, Helen suspected, there were boys there. Other places, such as the malls, were boring; the boys there were the same ones in their classes, and were uninteresting.

## Piano Recital

Helen's first major piano recital was awaited with eager anticipation. Helen had practiced for weeks, learning again a variety of works ranging from Bach and Handel to Chopin and Rachmaninov. Of course, her faithful fans had heard all those works while she practiced. But the recital blew everyone away. Helen had tuned the piano that morning, with the aid of John Bartholemeusz, a student who had declared an interest in tuning. At six, Summer, who had been appointed the MC for the evening, introduced Helen, and announced the first piece, The Concerto in F for harpsichord, by J.S. Bach.

Transcribed from the harpsichord repertoire, the so-called _Italian Concerto_ was a brilliant example of its peculiar genre, and started the evening off with a bang. Other well-known pieces followed, including sonatas by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.

After a brief interval, Helen presented Lena, playing Helen's own violin, and a couple of Kreisler pieces that brought the two of them much applause, which Lena acknowledged with a bow and a smile. Her mother sat in the audience with her grandmother and great-grandmother, all of them wiping their eyes, none of them more moved than old Lizzie, who was 101, and still in fair health. "To think I have seen this with my own eyes!" she said, in a hoarse whisper to the Chief, who was seated next to her.

Helen continued with Schumann, Liszt, Brahms, and Chopin. The last piece was an intermezzo by Rachmaninov, which was received with thunderous applause.

The concert was streamed out to the lonely Cutter Alpha, approaching the star and its planet.

Melanie watched on the large monitor, after the on-board system had recovered the signal and decoded it. She could barely see for the tears that kept pouring from her eyes. The camera had shown glimpses of the two girls, considerably grown, as young children did over six months. Helen looked regal, her added weight sitting surprisingly well on Helen's frame. The occasional close-up of Helen's face showed both intense concentration and great calm.

"Her hair is like pure gold," Chisako muttered, and Melanie made a gruff sound of agreement. Though Alan shared her bed, Melanie and Chisako were lovers in all but physical intimacy. Chisako knew all, every detail of Melanie's life and love, and conversely Melanie knew all about Chisako. Somehow, the usual rules of life became irrelevant in the strange existence they were living. So Alan and Melanie made love and comforted each other in one way, while Melanie and Chisako's love grew in quite different ways. Chisako had found herself in bed with Kevin, whom she detested, but they had found ways to compromise. Their sex life made Melanie's skin crawl, but Chisako said that talking to Melanie made it bearable.

The last chord faded away, and the applause rose to an unbearable clamor. They shut off the sound and watched, looking for glimpses of their families and loved ones. The camera was moved to the entrance, and everyone waved at it as they left the hall, and there was lots of sniffing as one or another loved one was identified.

It had been discovered that there was not one, but two planets. A little rocky thing far from the star, and a much larger planet nearer the star, at around a hundred million miles—approximately the radius of the Earth's orbit. They had passed the orbit of the outermost planet; there was no time to chase it down. With impossible luck, they were headed for an interception of the large planet. An optical study had been done, verifying what the probe had shown, that there was no life on the planet—certainly no intelligent life; only a lander could tell for certain. But, no matter what, some use could be made of the planet. The probe had swung round the planet, and was headed out back to the ship, for possible recovery.

Within four days, the Alpha would arrive at an orbit above the planet. It would be not quite an orbit; it was a swing-by that would show them two rotations of the planet, after which they would skip out to rendezvous with the ship, unless they were given orders to stay.

Melanie's hair had grown down almost to her knees again. Life on board ship was so cramped, Melanie had long since stopped feeling clean. All her dreams were about bathing for hours in the sea, and all her nightmares were of suffering in filthy clothes, unable to remove them. The very thought of suiting up for an EVA made her sick.

Chisako found her seated at her station one 'afternoon,' looking mildly ill. She held her hair in her hands. It broke Chisako's heart to see her friend so miserable.

"You look really mad," Chisako remarked, ready for anything.

Melanie looked up and tried a smile. They were waiting for further orders, having sent as much data back to the ship as they could. They had stared at the red-brown surface of the planet for a day, and had got tired of it. If they had been in their normal mental states, they would probably have been more interested. But they were all disgusted with their own body odors, and the confinement. They had recommended that in the future it might be possible to send smaller crews, and have them sleep most of the time.

"My hair is all tangled, I feel filthy . . ." and a large tear rolled down the Mission Commander's cheek.

Chisako felt her own eyes burn in sympathy. She loved Melanie far more than she had thought she could love anyone. She thought furiously.

"I could give you a sponge-bath," she said. "Then we'll wash your suit again. It's been a couple of days."

Melanie's eyes brightened. "I have a pair of shorts," she said. "I had forgotten!"

"Of course! Me, too!"

"Okay, let's do it!"

Melanie lay on Chisako's berth, and was sponged with a towel soaked in a mixture of water and rubbing alcohol. There were complaints, but Melanie made some rude suggestions about what the plaintiffs could do. The cutter's air filtration system struggled to deal with the fumes, but Melanie declared that she felt like a whole new person.

Pulling on her shorts and T-shirt, she said, "Your turn!"

Before long, everyone was doing it. It was surprising how quickly morale rose with a good wash and a change of clothes. Everyone had brought silly casual clothes to wear, and they came out now. When the radio announced a call from the ship, the cameras caught the crew in outfits far from regulation.

The message was: land and explore.

The ship was abuzz with the tidings from the cutter; it was a planet roughly the size of the Earth, but lighter. There was no free water, not ever polar ice caps. The surface temperature was around freezing at the equator. There was no axial tilt. The composition of the planet was very Earth-like: many of the usual elements, such as iron, calcium, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, aluminum, silicon, but smaller quantities of nitrogen, oxygen, chlorine, helium, carbon. The atmosphere was barely present; there was no protection against the radiation from the sun, which was mercifully weak. However, careful study had to be done, to make sure they could risk a long-term presence on the surface of the planet. There was an asteroid field further in, which could be mined for a number of metals and compounds that the ship could use. Mary, one of the twins, had been the associate of one of the last experts on synthetic chemistry, and she worried over the data coming in, trying to be as helpful as she could. But they had all settled into a scientific rut, on the ship, and there was a desperate need for new ideas, especially ideas sparked by what was available in the system. How much could they do with 21st century science and a few hundred people?

The excitement in the evening classes had risen to fever-pitch. The concentration was mainly in chemistry; the planet meant first and foremost _raw materials._ Everyone thought about the _things_ they could make. Perhaps Earth clothing could be imitated somehow! They could grow cotton, couldn't they? On the planet, perhaps?

At a higher level, various teams had formed, and the idea of investing a significant effort on exploiting the planet was formed. Could they find water on it? If they could, it might be worth orbiting the planet for even a decade; it could inject much-needed vigor into the shipboard community.

The issues had been well-understood years ago. In fact Art, Cass's husband, had studied the principles of terraforming in his post-graduate days.

"The mission fathers were opposed to a biological bomb approach," he explained to the team that studied the issue. "But in principle the same approach can be undertaken locally! A closed environment is created on the planet; a kind of biosphere. It's then infected with certain kinds of organisms, and water and nutrients, and we steer its development. There are risks; and there are great problems, like: can we find enough water?" He went on to describe experiments that had been conducted on Mars and the moon.

But most of all, the planet offered the possibility of experiencing an open sky.

"What is it like?" asked a group of students one afternoon. It was a few weeks after the big piano recital, and after the report from the cutter had come in. Helen had finished her lesson early, and was seated out under the trees, surrounded by the dozen or so people who were her class, and a few others, who had decided to join them, leaving their work untended.

"Well, you've seen it in the videos," Helen said, sighing.

"But what is it _really_ like?"

Helen closed her eyes.

"You look up, and, instead of the trees crowding together the higher they go up, they just go up parallel." There was total silence. "The trees are pretty much the same; not so healthy, more rugged, branches torn in the winds—there are winds; most days you feel at least _some_ breeze, from one side or another. And then you look past the tops of the trees, and your eye doesn't stop—it goes forever!" The sound in Helen's voice made their hearts stand still. Helen herself could hardly bear the feelings that went through her mind. The spaciousness of the sky that made Montana so incredible, how could they imagine that? Would they feel fear if they saw that sky?

Every morning, Helen looked first for the two little girls and Lena. They were now her little world, her emotional anchors. Helen hurried home from her jog, made them all breakfast, and the routine of the morning was a calming influence on her. Sweet, wonderful Lena was a large part of that, never complaining, gentle and patient. The little girls were devoted to her, and to a lesser extent, to Summer Levin, who came round on the weekends and Fridays.

With Lena around, Helen had a little less privacy than before. In spite of the way Lena's love filled some of her needs, Helen still felt the urge to make a long walk by herself at dusk.

One evening, it was around ten, all dark, and the children had been put to bed, with Lena in charge. Helen slipped out, leaving a message for Lena that she'd be back around midnight. She had an insane idea of tracking down Cecilia, or Lucy; unlike the usual pattern, where her hormones kicked in during ovulation, here Helen could feel herself buffeted by hormones every second, every day.

She leaned against a tree and closed her eyes, immersed in her private thoughts. The night was the best time; she couldn't see too far, and the topology of the world she stood on could not intrude. She could imagine being in the woods, with a lover . . .

" _There_ you are," said a familiar voice from close behind. Helen whirled. Already it was hard to make sudden maneuvers. It was Lena, hurrying to catch up with her. Her features were not clear, but the walk was familiar. "Didn't want to scare you," she added.

"What about the children?"

"They're with Summer."

"She can't stand them!"

"Oh yes, she can; she's playing Top with them; she brought one with her!"

"What are you doing here, Lena?"

Lena couldn't stand Helen going off on her own. It seemed to mean that Helen couldn't stand their company, or that she needed time off from her, Lena.

"Do you need to—get away from me, or something?" Lena asked, solemnly.

Helen gave an exasperated groan. "Why does everything have to do with you?" Helen snapped, and was immediately sorry. She bit her tongue.

"Please don't be mad, Aunt Helen . . . I didn't want you to be all alone!"

Helen held out her hand, and Lena took it, and they started walking together.

"I _like_ to be alone, Lena . . . don't you, sometimes?"

Lena was quiet for a while. Helen was torn between desperately wanting Lena to go back home, and wanting to pour out her heart to her. There was no way a twelve-year-old could relate to her problems, but if there was such a one, Lena was her. Helen was surprised that Lena did not bluster excuses for being here. The child was accustomed to grief and loss, and her heart was very tender. It must be hard to love someone like me, Helen thought, with all my complicated wants and needs.

They were approaching a lonely place where Helen liked to sit and fantasize making love to Melanie, and occasionally others that she was too ashamed to recognize. The pregnancy had sent her libido into overdrive, and the price she paid for focusing on her work in the daytime was that she was driven close to madness when she was by herself. Helen kept walking without a pause.

"Let's sit over here," Lena suggested. Helen suppressed a groan, and closed her eyes in defeat. "You must be tired!" She tugged at Helen's hand. She carefully seated Helen, as if Helen were some delicate mother on the very brink of delivering. Her thin body felt wonderfully pleasant against Helen's side.

After a minute of silence, Lena said awkwardly, "I know something about you. You mustn't be upset, okay?"

Helen's heart stopped for a moment. She made herself relax. In one sense Lena was almost her own child, and sooner or later your children found out everything. "Go on," she said. Lena's hand was warm in hers.

"I know all about how you touch yourself," she said softly. Helen was shocked, in spite of the warning. The words had come out in a hurry, and Helen knew that in spite of how she tried to sound cool about it, Lena was embarrassed. "I saw you when you were sick," she explained. "You shouldn't be embarrassed—lots of girls do it, I found out."

"Really?" Helen was amused, but more annoyed. "You and Summer talk about this kind of thing?"

Lena made a soft hissing sound, which expressed impatience for her. "Not exclusively, auntie . . . but that's not the point. I . . ."

It was getting a little too intense for Helen. She let go of Lena's hand and rested her head in both her hands. She felt herself tensing up. The confusion and embarrassment of Lena and her awkward conversation had to compete with the demands of her body.

What she needed was someone to hold her and make love to her, long and hard. She wanted to be cherished and loved, things that she had always needed more than most people, but now more than ever.

". . . I just know how you feel, that's all," Lena was saying. Helen snapped out of her reverie with a start. She ran through what Lena had said just before, and realized that the child had just confessed to masturbating. Just like that; something that had made Helen almost die of shame at that age. "Say something, auntie! You know I love you!"

"Oh darling . . . it doesn't matter . . . our bodies are to be enjoyed, Lena. What does it matter what you do with it, as long as it does no harm?"

"I _know_ that; but I know how you must suffer, with the kids and me, and the pregnancy, all at the same time!"

Helen shook her head and smiled, wiping off a tear. "You're no problem at all! I love you more than you could ever know!" Lena rested her head against Helen's shoulder affectionately. "It's just that—I feel so incredibly lonely . . ."

"But I'm here for you, and the kids are here!"

"Well . . . it's the thing you were talking about . . . after a while, touching yourself is just not enough, you know."

"I know," Lena whispered, her arm tight around Helen's waist, and Helen wondered; perhaps she did know.

# Year 75: The Planet

## Planetfall

The entire crew was awake for the meeting. Earlier, Melanie and Chisako had been talking, and Melanie had confessed she was not looking forward to it. After six months of unchallenged leadership, the crew looked up to Melanie, though she was one of the youngest among them. They resented her appointment still, she knew, but they respected her intelligence, and how hard she had prepared for the mission, both in terms of the background information, and the wide range of skills she had acquired.

She wore her hair in a long braid, a plain skirt, and her captain's jacket. Chisako and Alan sat on either side as she faced the others.

"We're in a stable orbit, we've surveyed the entire surface, and we've found about forty potential landing-sites. None of us have ever landed this thing; but Alan, and Kevin and Ole and I have all run simulated landings. This is a much heavier vessel now than when it was put on board, and all the control engines have been beefed-up. We know that it handled well in weightless conditions. Down there . . . we don't know."

They watched her closely. Over the six months she had turned from a pretty woman into a beauty. All the men lusted after their captain. It was uncanny how unaware she was of how she affected them. She tried so hard to look smart, and ended up looking gorgeous. She was looking right into their eyes, one by one, as if she was talking about life and death. Next to Helen Nordstrom, she was the best pilot on the ship. What was she carrying on about?

Slowly Melanie outlined the procedure they would follow. Much of it was already well known, the rest of it had been planned out only after more facts about the planet had become available.

The surface gravity was much lower than Earth standard, and not uniform. There was no easy way to map it out. So it had to be a manual landing, because the autopilot could not be programmed with all the necessary data.

After they had rested a full twenty-four hours—the planet's day was around 30 hours—with a skeleton duty shift, they prepared to land. They didn't have to worry too much about atmospheric entry; because of how thin the atmosphere was, the skin of the craft would not heat up more than a hundred degrees, a mere nothing. The only problem was fuel and propellant. Landing meant that they would give up the capability to chase the ship. A more leisurely rendezvous would be needed, if they sacrificed the fuel. For the second time during the mission, they donned safety-suits. If the craft was injured, they could survive until a rescue mission could find them.

Recorders were on, as well as backup audio logs. They strapped themselves in, and Mimi began to narrate what was going on, independently of Melanie's commentary. They felt the craft ease out of its orbit with the computer-controlled burn. Mimi's quiet voice could be just heard.

"Main engines fired . . . adjusting attitude . . . the surface is coming up very rapidly. We've angled to fire the main engines to brake . . . we're still moving very fast . . . luckily it's very flat down there . . . no, wait . . . it isn't all that flat . . . the color is flat, but there are mountains, I guess you would call them . . . okay, we're past the hills, and . . . another rotation, we're facing forward again . . . she's taken manual control . . . we're firing retractors . . . we're totally powered now, slowed to about running speed . . . very smooth. She's picked a wide flat-topped mountain. It's very level . . ."

Mimi's voice became tense as the craft dropped lower.

". . . It feels very scary . . . the ground is rushing by really fast . . . it's almost a blur . . . faster than watching the elevator go by, on the ship . . . I'm praying Melanie can handle it . . . Oh! . . . there was a little buffeting, that's strange . . . there isn't any atmosphere, to cause that . . . oh god, we're going so fast . . . she's slowing us down . . ." There were sounds of alarm from the others, too, that made their way into the sound record being logged by Mimi. The relief was plain in her voice when the speed fell to a level that seemed safe to her. On the great space island of the ship, of course, there were no speeds comparable to this, except in movies. The fact that Melanie was at least partially manually handling the craft as it hurtled over the surface at this blinding speed was barely within their ability to accept.

"We're on the ground; a soft crunch." There were cheers, and Chisako hugged Melanie, suit and all.

"Fuel?"

Alan nodded and shrugged. "Just a little over 76% of the estimated cost."

"That's good!"

"Not good enough. I hoped we could explore with the Alpha."

"It won't take nearly as much, just to hop about, will it?"

There was a sudden lurching, and they all yelled and clutched at the nearest handholds. "What's happening?"

"It's sliding!" screamed one of the girls. Melanie sat down in a flash, and brought the engines to life again, and lifted slowly away, swearing to herself. Fighting the controls, she brought the cutter some distance away, and, her arms trembling with nervousness, cautiously set the vessel down. As soon as the engines cut out, they could feel the skids scrape against the ground. "It's not level," said Melanie under her breath. "I was so sure . . ."

"Try that spot over there," suggested Alan.

It was several more minutes before they were down, and the stabilizer struts firmly embedded in the soil of the planet. The crew was surprised when Melanie went round the entire crew and embraced each of them and thanked them individually. Even Kevin, who knew she found him disgusting, received a warm embrace and a quiet word of thanks, as the expressive black eyes looked straight into his own. He grinned, moved in spite of himself, and murmured an awkward phrase of appreciation to her, as Chisako watched in amusement.

They stood in a circle, red-faced and excited.

"Well, are you ready?" asked Alan, smiling at Melanie.

Melanie shook her head, looking genuinely regretful. "I'm staying on board for this first time."

"Well, your call. Who gets to go down first?"

None of the personnel who were essential to returning to the ship would go. In the end, Melanie, under duress, because they refused to draw lots, selected Chisako and Ken. The two of them suited up in the surface suits, in full protective gear for this first visit, and while Melanie watched from the pilot's seat, and Mimi manned the communications station, the rest watched at the airlock. The ramp was duly lowered, and the pair of them walked down to the surface.

"Oh my gosh . . ." exclaimed Ken, his voice full of wonder, "this feels very different . . . not like the ship at all." They could see the two of them taking cautious steps about, feeling how the suits worked, and the feel of the ground. Melanie bit back warnings about watching their step; they were being cautious enough.

"Yes, it's different," agreed Chisako. "I feel like running! I won't, though . . ."

For almost five minutes, they spoke about wanting to run. Those inside could feel the euphoria. They came back into the pilot's cabin to ask to go outside. Their operating rules had been that no more than half the crew were allowed on the surface at any one time, on this initial exploratory phase. That meant that four more could go, once those two had made a full safety inspection.

"The ground is kind of rough," said Chisako, "not like the woods in Temperate, not like the beach in Ocean, either, it's kind of different."

"Well, it's like some parts of Tropical," chimed in Ken. "Big pieces of stone, around a few centimeters or more, I guess it's all volcanic. There aren't any signs of water. Maybe it's from being pounded by meteorites, or something. But there aren't any craters . . ."

"Well, not close by, but there were a number of them, further—I guess _west_ , is the direction," Melanie said. "Nothing moving, nothing happening?"

"No, it's totally quiet."

"Just listen; we'll be very quiet for a while." They listened.

"No," said Ken and Chisako together, "there's nothing. The struts are very firm. You can come out, I guess."

"Okay, we'll pass out the instrument package. You're getting four more explorers."

"Well, come on in! The water's fine!"

Ole, the Brunos, and Mimi went down, carrying the initial survey instrument package. A surveillance camera was mounted on a little rise some distance from the cutter, and the various devices deployed, to collect seismic data, radiation and magnetic data, and so forth. The chemical data would be collected manually.

Melanie did not relax until all of them were back on board. Once they had eaten and rested for a while, they began the job of analyzing the mineralogical data. The burning question was whether there was any hope of converting something on the surface into a fuel. It was soon clear that the only possibility was to use the ion drive, and use the basic surface material, possibly in the form of a powder, as propellant. There was no hydrogen in anything they tested, except minute traces. Unfortunately, the ion drive in the cutter was a small one, and its acceleration would be very slow indeed.

"Can we get back?" Chisako asked, finally. They had burned up a lot of fuel because of the fright when the cutter skidded.

"Yes," Melanie said, "just barely. If we don't do any more flying except to lift off and head back to the ship."

"So we must explore only on foot! That's disgusting! All this way, and all we can do is walk about."

"That's right."

Very soon after they had eaten a good breakfast, they were ready to explore again. The talk had all been about how different it was, walking around on the surface, to walking around on the ship. The more complex and heavy instrument items were lowered to the surface from the hold. There was no vehicle of any sort, only a simple cart with large solid-rubber tires, which had a floor about two feet wide by four feet long.

This time Melanie felt it was appropriate to go down with the others, leaving Alan behind. She made a quick circuit of the immediate vicinity of the cutter, and got back inside. A little later Chisako came back in through the airlock, all red and excited. Alan grinned at the two girls and said he'd take a turn out. Tomorrow they'd stick to the protocol, but it was too much to expect them all to stay inside for any length of time. Shortly afterwards, Melanie and Chisako saw the rest of the crew cavorting about on the surface like lunatics. The sound monitor was sending back so much noise that they had to turn down the volume.

"Keep it down, out there," Melanie cried, but it was almost impossible to be heard over the racket. Disgustedly, Melanie turned the volume down further. She turned to Chisako. "Suppose something happens. They're shouting so much, it'll never be heard."

"You can turn on the siren," Chisako said, grinning. That made Melanie's lips curl in a little smile.

Chisako sat close to Melanie, and Melanie regarded her solemnly. She had got them safely to the planet. Now she had to get them back home to the ship. The two women looked at each other, and they both thought how close they had become. They could communicate in total silence.

"You have been wonderful," Chisako said quietly. "And I'm not saying that because I . . . because, you know." Melanie nodded, coloring slightly. It was high praise. Chisako had rarely praised her, though she had certainly encouraged her at every turn.

"How come I never saw you before, on the ship?" asked Chisako, her head on one side.

"Before training?"

"Yeah? Like, you weren't in engineering, or naval cadets—were you?"

"No; I did chemistry, and then planetary science. We were mostly in Ocean. I was born in Ocean. And then I trained mostly in the Geology labs."

The two girls had attended different branches of the academy, Chisako having trained in the crew branch, while Melanie had trained in the civilian scientist branch. Melanie's advisors had never imagined that she would be a part of a mission, let alone captaining one. Yet, when the team had been put together, it had been assembled around Melanie.

A light began to flash on the environment monitor.

"What's that? Where's Ole? That's his station . . ." Melanie went over and looked. "Hold everything," she said, "get them back here. This is a sensor on someone's pack. It's Kevin's pack."

Looking at the monitor, they could see Kevin waving to the others excitedly, looking at his instruments. They turned on the sound again, and heard Kevin shouting.

"Uranium deposits! I'm sure of it!"

"Uranium," breathed Melanie. "That's big. With a furnace, we're in business in a big way!"

## Hardship

Meanwhile, back on the ship, things were getting interesting. The prescribed procedures for maneuvering the enormous vessel were complex. In a situation such as they were experiencing, certain luxuries that the population had taken for granted would be impossible. After weeks of discussion, the ship crew and civil administration reluctantly agreed that they would have to go into semi-weightless mode while they rotated the ship into the most efficient position for powered orbit, which would allow them to maintain a small fraction of their kinetic energy. The greatest problem was the sea in Ocean.

They would reduce the temperature in Ocean segment to -5° C, thus freezing the ocean solid. After that, the ship would gradually slow it's rotation to a small fraction of its present rate, after all segments were battened down to function at near weightless levels. It would be barely possible to walk upright, and for safety, all critical things would be tethered during maneuvers.

The residents of Ocean would either remain in those low-temperature conditions, or they would be allowed to stay in the other segments as guests. Volunteers in the other segments, including the service segment, a small one built in the more traditional ship style with bunks and staterooms, which was home to the majority of the service crew, and the older students in the academy and special graduate programs.

Helen was full of admiration for the calmness with which the announcement was received. She was at dinner with the children when they heard it over the public address, in Cass's calm voice.

"As you know, our ship is a huge structure, almost a little planet in its own right. The most powerful engines are at the rear, and in order to aim them, the entire ship has to be rotated. To do this, we have to slow down the slow rotation that keeps us anchored to the ground, so we must now make use of the skills we have learned during low-weight drills. At 8:00 p.m. tonight, every home must begin anchoring its furniture, anchors must be uncovered and made serviceable, beds and cots must be made ready for weightless use. As each item is anchored, it will register on the circuits. At 10:00 p.m., a team of volunteers will come round to help you with any remaining things that need to be done.

"Tomorrow, your friends from Ocean will arrive, to live with you for a time, maybe a month, maybe a year, who knows? If we choose to remain in-system for more than a year, we may decide to put the Voyager in a stable unpowered orbit, and the ship can go back to normal."

The little girls learned quickly. Maya was now two, but very reliable. Given a simple job, she would do it with little or no supervision. Lena had learned the procedure in school, and she taught Helen. At various strategic points in every room, there were little steel studs which had to be uncovered; furniture that obscured them had to be moved, and placed in positions in which they would anchor themselves to the floor or the walls.

"Just a little further out . . . now see here? Pull it hard . . ."

"What do _I_ do?"

"You pull yours at the same time."

"Oh, I see, okay, pull . . . Oh!" The table had locked with a satisfying click, and a tiny panel showed green.

"I did Maya's bed!" called out Marissa. Meanwhile Maya had collected all her toys into a webbed container that was anchored to the floor of her closet. Helen's books all needed to be put on covered shelves, which closed automatically. At eight, all cabinets in the kitchen had turned themselves on, so that doors closed automatically, and drawers would close, unless held open. The cutlery drawer had emitted squeaks of frustration until an offending fork had been rearranged so that it closed.

"This is so neat!" said Helen, with a grin. She felt an odd excitement, feeling as if she was _really_ on a space-faring vessel.

The phone rang. Lena grabbed it.

"Hello?" she said, and then looked up. "It's Mom," she announced to them quietly. "Hi Mom. Yes, she's right here." She handed the phone to Helen.

"Hello Daisy," Helen said.

Amazingly, they had hardly spoken since a week after the Cutter had departed. For whatever reason, without any spoken agreement, Helen and Daisy had avoided meeting each other at all, and never alone. Lena was often sent off home to visit with her mother, usually once a week. But Cass insisted that Helen keep Lena with her, and Alison agreed. Helen had stopped fighting it, and now she had virtually fostered Lena, and to some extent, Summer, too, was more in Helen's apartment than anywhere else.

"How is it coming along?"

"The anchoring stuff?" Helen asked. "Oh, we're practically done!"

"I was sure you would be. I was just concerned about the instruments, and the little girls' things."

"No, they were very good. I've got the instruments webbed down in the study, and that's fine."

"Would you like some help down at the Collegium?"

Helen gasped. "I had forgotten! Yes, yes . . . we'd better hurry out there. There's a lot of time left, though."

"Don't panic, I know there's several people out there. I said I'd come as soon as things were battened down over here."

"I'll be right over, as soon as we get ready."

There were rules about traveling about, and Lena insisted that they follow them. It was winter now, and they had to dress warm, but a look through the front door showed crew moving about some distance away, and near the house, orange handrails had appeared at the edge of the road. "They're always there, just near the road," Lena told them. "Someone just has to pull them up. I only saw them up once, when I was little."

"Why was that?"

"Just to show us kids. They do it, like every five years, or something; the time before, I would have been too small to know." She flashed Helen an encouraging smile, as she braided her hair and coiled it.

"Why're you putting your hair up?"

"You should, too, and the babies. See?" The little girls were braiding their hair, too. "It's a safety thing. And everyone wears pants." She grinned. "We don't really have to do it, but it's fun!"

At the Collegium, when they got there, carefully holding the handrails all the way, there were more than the entire student body there, easily forty people, anchoring the grand piano, webbing the keyboards, anchoring the stands. Helen had not noticed that every stand had come ready with anchors, and that the floor was dotted with anchors for every seat and stand and desk.

"What about—the trees, and . . . and . . ."

"They have natural anchors, called . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

". . . roots! No, seriously," continued Alison, "the biggest trees have metal anchors."

Helen's eyes were wide. She had noticed crew at work most days of the week, kneeling around the base of larger trees. She had assumed they were dealing with some disease or other. What an incredible investment the woods were! She wondered whether the lack of gravity would affect the natural processes of nutrient transport in plants. How much gravity did they need to function?

Around ten, as promised, teams came around. Lena volunteered, and was whisked off with them to do the rounds. The more help they had, the quicker everyone could return home.

"The little kids are great, because they notice things," said the big fellow who led them, the last to leave the apartment. "They see everything!" Helen nodded and smiled, as he gave her a quick half-bow and backed out of the apartment with a wave and a grin. He had promised to have Lena back in an hour.

Lena was back in an hour as promised, all excited and full of stories of what other homes looked like. She had met scores of little kids and helped them secure their things, and seen a great variety of interesting things: pictures, books, gadgets, Earth-things that were often hidden away from the eyes of people.

At midnight the ship went into weightless mode, a security level. All the warning circuits were turned on, so that loose equipment would be noted, and warnings sent. The next morning, Ocean would stop being heated. The sea would naturally cool and eventually freeze, saving a significant amount of energy, and most of the residents, including the weakest—children and elders—would migrate to live with hosts in the other segments. Helen and the girls had volunteered to guest the family of a teacher from Melanie's school, including her elderly parents, and her two children. Her husband would move into a room in the cabin segment, and Leilani would join him at night.

After the little ones were in bed, Helen and Lena got the rooms ready for the visitors. Helen would move in with the children, giving her room to Leilani and her parents, while the two little boys, seven and eleven, would use Daisy's room. Helen had only met Leilani herself, a short, plump woman with a wonderful smile. The children had been among those at the school, but Helen would not have been able to recognize them; there had been so many. The children were excited in anticipation of having company.

It was just about sunrise when the phone rang.

"Hello?" Helen said sleepily. She was used to being up earlier, but now, feeling as heavy as she was, she lay in bed until Lena was up. So Helen was sleepy, but by no means grumpy at being woken.

"I know it's early, but . . . we thought we'd get an early start," said the apologetic voice. "Melanie said you're always up before the sun!"

Helen was instantly awake.

"Oh! Yes, we're up. Where are you?" Helen asked, reaching for her glasses. She smothered a gasp as she lurched to her feet. The fetuses were getting really big, and when she made sudden moves they kicked and complained. "I feel like a school bus," Helen said breathlessly, forgetting that it would mean nothing to Leilani.

"We're nearly at the elevator top," said Leilani, with that giggle in her voice that was so cute. "Already there's about a half-dozen families in the tube!"

"This is good. I'll have breakfast ready when you get here. Are your parents doing okay?"

"Oh yes. They're both in good shape. Hubert and they are handling the container. I've got the kids and the phone!"

Fifteen minutes later, they were all up. The little girls kept watch through the window, while Lena and Helen cooked.

"They're here," Maryssa hurried in to report. "And there are two big boys! And they've got a big blue bag, as big as—as big as _you,_ and they're _not_ holding on to the orange . . . thing."

Lena turned to her.

"They don't _have_ to do it right now, but from tomorrow they have to."

"Not today?"

Lena shook her head, and went back to slicing the bread. "We were just practicing," she explained. "That's four of us, and . . ." she counted silently, ". . . six of them, so . . . I'll cut up the whole thing?"

"Yes, dear, good girl."

"Can I help?"

"Lay the plates out," Lena instructed.

There were sounds at the door, and Maya flew in to say they were knocking.

"Go let them in, Mama's coming," said Lena. Helen shut off the stove top, and straightened her smock. She could only wear loose garments now. This one had been sewn by her hippie friends from an old Earth pattern they had shown Helen. Helen's weight was an incredible 195 pounds, distributed all over her, from her chubby face to her legs, which were now great columns.

Maya ran ahead, and pulled open the door. "Hi!" she said to the visitors.

"Why, hello little one! Where's Miss Helen?" Maya pointed vaguely behind her, all dimples and bright eyes.

Helen rolled up, smiling warmly.

"I see you've been welcomed already!"

Leilani's eyes feasted themselves on Helen, looking her up and down. In Leilani's culture, a pregnant woman was wonderful luck, and Helen blushed at the delight on Leilani's face.

"Why, I had no idea! When did _this_ happen?"

"Oh, about . . . nine months ago," said Helen, knowing that her embarrassed smile must seem ravishing to Leilani. "Please come in, come in!" She smiled a welcome and nodded to the men and the children. The male population of the apartment was now higher than it had ever been. Helen stepped forward to help with the large container bag, a great big canvas bag slung on a light plastic or fiberglass frame.

"I'm so embarrassed . . ." Leilani began, "we brought almost everything!"

"Oh, you couldn't have," Helen said, smiling. "You've been very frugal."

They let Helen help with the bag. They knew that she wasn't helpless.

The frame was left tethered to the front of the building, while the bag was carried inside. It weighed probably close to a hundred pounds, but it contained everything they wanted to bring with them. Strapped to Hubert's back was another carry-pack with more things, books and their computers, he said.

The old couple was in great shape. They looked to be in their sixties, vigorous and healthy, both of mixed European and Hawaiian parentage. The gentleman was introduced as George, and the woman as Patricia. They were delighted with their room. "This is far better than we had on Ocean," said George, "but we spend most of our time outside the house, you see!"

"It's going to be quite a change, isn't it?" Helen asked, smiling.

"Not as much as if we had stayed!" they laughed. Ocean would continue to function at minimal level, with an outside temperature of around -5° C. The most important orchards and groves would be protected in a greenhouse environment, but the sun would function almost totally at visible wavelengths for photosynthesis.

It was quite a crowd at the breakfast table, and all through the meal, the visiting Hayakawas kept up a litany of thanks and appreciation for the generosity of Helen and her family.

"We're doing nothing but share the space," Helen said firmly. "Food isn't a problem, and with all the extra help, life will be so much easier, and more fun! And there's company for the girls."

Lena had studied the boys carefully, and Helen wondered how she rated them. The older boy, Gary, was a handsome, clean-limbed Ocie boy, with intelligent, thoughtful eyes. Helen estimated that the younger one, Eddie, was just as intelligent, but a lot more mischievous, at an age where sheer energy got in the way of much intellectual activity.

Right after breakfast, Lena took the boys in hand, and having got them settled in their rooms, led them out for a tour of their immediate vicinity. Shortly after, Hubert, a quiet man who smiled more than he spoke, set off for his room in the small segment in which he would be staying. Helen bravely said he would be welcome in her home whenever he cared to stay, but he insisted that they need not worry about him. His room was plenty spacious for him and Leilani. Without saying so in so many words, they let Helen know that Leilani was a lusty girl, and would hate to be without him at night.

"But who's been looking after you?" Leilani asked, after her parents had been settled, and had decided to go off exploring. Maryssa and Maya were playing on the floor, occasionally glancing at the two women. Maryssa could hardly remember Leilani, she had said with a blush earlier. She had been too young, and it had been too long.

"Look after?" Helen asked, her face coloring slightly. It was rather a loaded question, whether or not Leilani knew it. "Why do I need looking after?"

"Oh, Miss Helen, _you_ know— _I_ had his parents. Pat cooked for me when I was too ill to cook; and to look after the children when you have to go to the medical center?"

"Lena is a great help," Helen said, frowning, "if that's what you mean."

"Lena. She's a sweet child," Leilani admitted. "Here, let me do that!" She hurried to grab the pan from Helen. Helen complained, but it _was_ good to be off her feet. "Who _is_ she?"

"Oh, she's—the daughter of a friend. I've known her from the time—from way back, you know? So we've become very close."

"I'm glad for you," Leilani said. "But with your time coming close, I think it's a good thing I'll be here when it happens."

"That's true," Helen said with a sigh. "I was kind of excited to be able to handle it with just Lena and the little ones."

Leilani smiled at the two girls, who smiled back. "They're in wonderful shape, aren't you, girls?" They nodded, still smiling. Helen was getting to like Leilani a lot. She was an easy person to get along with. "They're quiet. Now _my_ two; Eddie is impossible. Rush, rush, rush around like a rocket all the time." Helen laughed. She could no longer giggle; her muscles would not allow her to do anything more than a rich chuckle.

"Do you get out much?" Leilani asked, sometime later, after they had made sandwiches for lunch and packed them carefully away.

"Oh sure," Helen said, "I still teach a full load."

"You mean, travel to schools, and teach singing?" Leilani asked, incredulously.

"Oh, no, no; it's adults. I teach a group of people who will go out as teachers themselves. You know a couple of them already . . ."

Leilani nodded. "Oh, yes, I see. And this place, where you teach . . ."

"It's just around the corner, the Collegium, it's called."

"Yes," Leilani nodded. "I've heard of it, of course."

They chatted quietly for a while, until Lena returned with the boys. She had easily established control over them, Helen noticed with admiration. The look in the eyes of the older boy was close to adoration.

"We saw so many people coming in!" said Gary. "Hundreds!"

"All from Ocean?"

"Well, they looked like they are!"

Leilani was amused. "The entire population in Ocean is just two hundred, Gary. Don't exaggerate."

Lena giggled. She seemed to blossom before Helen's eyes. With her hair put up—something she insisted on doing—she looked really beautiful, and conducted herself with unconscious dignity. There was far more of Daisy in her than Helen had observed at first. Somehow in Lena, the almost oppressively earnest concern that characterized Daisy, had become mellowed into something softer: insistent, yet not rigid, serious, yet patient. Helen did not recognize them as traits present in herself.

To the visitors, the harmonious relationship between the woman and the three children was more evident. In tune to such things, as they were, they appreciated the good qualities in all of them, the quiet discipline of the two youngest, the deep sense of responsibility of Lena, and her deep love for Helen, and not least the unassuming nature and generosity of spirit of the Earth Woman, who demanded so little of them in spite of being on the brink of delivery.

Helen was truly enormous. Leilani was gone from the house from around ten at night to six in the morning. The two-day break for moving the residents of Ocean out to the other segments would be over by the following morning. Already Ocean was cooling down, though it would remain open for anyone who needed to retrieve something urgently from his or her home. The Pumpkin would continue to function under a heated tent, with permission. The enormous tent had been erected, covering an area twice as high as the club, and four times as large in area. Everyone was in the water as long as they could, anticipating a long winter without any sea-bathing. Some faces were very long, but others were looking forward to the great new adventure, the challenge of having fun in below-zero temperatures.

A number of small schools would be organized in Temperate, and Leilani would teach at one of these. She had, in fact, been assigned to a school which would meet in one of the rooms in the Collegium. There were many large rooms in it that were used only infrequently, and now the ship could not afford the luxury of empty, unused rooms.

## An Energy Plant for the Planet

The cutter had taken with it a small reactor, on the very good chance that enough radioactive fuel could be refined to use it. It was a mere shell of a reactor; a complete functioning reactor would have been too much mass to transport.

There was an elaborate bootstrap process to get the reactor up and running. First, using precious resources of water from the cutter, a level slab of plascrete was laid on solid rock, the moisture being recovered as much as possible. Then the reactor was set up on it, and they began to fill the shielding space with carefully selected rocks and pebbles, all hauled painfully by hand from various deposits nearby.

Meanwhile, Melanie and Kevin had begun extracting the uranium in the lab on board the cutter. It took weeks to get even a small sample, and Melanie had to keep Kevin from making dangerous short-cuts. She often lost her temper, to the point where one day she began weeping.

Kevin cursed at her. "You cry all the freaking time," he accused her, his face like a thundercloud. "Why did they have to appoint a _girl_ to head the mission? Alan would have been so much better!"

"I'm not crying because I'm Captain," she said calmly, drying her eyes, "it's because I'm stuck in here with you, watching you trying to kill both of us."

Kevin made an impatient noise, but she noticed he was being more careful.

"What does it matter," he muttered, "we don't _really_ expect to get back to the ship. We were a write-off from the start."

"Why did you volunteer, then?" There was no answer.

After a long while, Kevin demanded, "Why did _you_ volunteer?"

"Because . . . it might be important to the Ship."

Kevin snorted. Then, "Didn't your parents ask you not to come?"

"They're dead."

He laughed. "So there's nobody there who gives a damn what happens to you! You've only got Alan and Chisako!"

Melanie looked at him in surprise. "I have two little girls back on the Ship. You know that, Kevin."

Kevin stopped what he was doing, and carefully laid down what he was holding. He stared at Melanie, open-mouthed.

"You have kids?"

Melanie nodded, puzzled. Didn't he know?

"I don't think _anyone_ knows!"

"Oh yes, they do. Everyone knows. You're the only one who doesn't! They were seated next to me at the commissioning ceremony."

Somehow, that seemed to change Melanie in his eyes. He was still a pain in the ass, as was his brother, but suddenly he took the greatest care when he was working with her. She asked him why he was being so nice to her, and he shook his head, and said he didn't know.

Meanwhile, water had been found. Melanie was even more excited at that find than she had been about the uranium. It had been found by Barb Allman and Ole Swenson, in one of the furthest exploratory trips they had made. The water was frozen, deep in a gully. Further exploration by a larger team had found more water. It was all in small, widely-scattered deposits, and carefully hauled back to camp in boxes and various containers, as if it was gold. "You can't do anything with gold," Melanie pointed out, "except wear it."

Every week saw their precious water supply dwindle. They recycled every drop, but invariably the moisture leaked out of their supposedly closed system. Over the seven months they had been away, out of the hundred-odd gallons they had brought, they were down to ninety-five. They had just brought about ten gallons back with them.

The uranium had been extracted and purified, and one day four of them went out to the reactor to run a trial reaction. "This is not hard," Melanie said, "it's going to work."

It just sat there.

Melanie was white-faced. Nobody dared say a word, as Melanie carefully restored the reactor, removed the sample, and led the way back to the cutter. She went back into the lab, only Kevin daring to follow her.

After a while, she risked a glance at her companion. He was feverishly reading the documentation she had already read over and over again, since they had been on the Ship. "There's got to be something in here," he muttered. His obvious concern for her made her feel strange. He was doing this for _her_ , not for himself.

" _Moisture!"_ he exclaimed. "Could that be it?"

In their anxiety to conserve water, they had kept all materials far drier than was common. They checked all their materials, and decided to run the experiment again the following day. There was no mention of moisture; this was not a chemical reaction, and moisture should not have mattered one way or another. Something mechanical had gone wrong, but it had to be minor. It could not be anything obvious. Perhaps some cog somewhere had slipped, some port refused to open, some relay refused to close.

Alan held her close that night, telling her how well things were going. "It'll work next time," he whispered. She nodded, her forehead rubbing against his smooth chest. They were good friends, and by now, this daily ritual had become a comfort, a release from the tension of each day. Melanie could feel, physically, how much Alan needed this. He came to bed strung like a violin, and she made him relax. They were perfect for each other. She cared for him, but more like a sister. He was devoted to her, but only in private. In public, he maintained a facade of Chelsea's faithful husband. Melanie wondered whether it mattered to Chelsea so much.

In the morning, she and Chisako had a few precious minutes to themselves, before the team assembled again.

"Don't worry about me," Melanie told them, as they suited up. "I'm trying not to make it personal."

"It'll work," Kevin. "I slept with the sample last night."

Mimi gasped. Kevin grinned.

That time, it did work. It sat there inactive for a while, but then the temperature sensors began to move, and all the instruments indicated a healthy reaction. The cheers began to overload the system as Melanie bent to adjust the controls. They had power, industrial-strength power.

The plans were amazingly efficient. It had all been laid out seventy-five years ago, and refined by that first generation of pioneers, who had little else to do.

Slowly they brought the reactor up to full power, and began to manufacture on a small scale. There were a variety of alternative plans, adapted to the materials they had at hand. Silicon was plentiful, and they began to make multi-purpose structural parts of glass, and other parts out of aluminum. After several weeks, they had built a glass-and-aluminum structure out on the planet surface, and begun extracting other metals, mainly iron and tungsten.

It was amazing how often the crew had to be reminded of the purpose of any particular enterprise. Alan, Chisako, Melanie and Ken were thorough professionals, and really knew what they had to know. The other eight had hastily learned enough for the mission, and had forgotten everything outside their individual specialties.

Now, with the various little factories operating, they were learning first-hand a great deal of physics and chemistry. But in terms of the mission, the important thing was to extract enough propellant and nuclear reactor fuel for the journey home.

"The asteroids in-system probably have a lot of stuff we can use, but it's much easier to process the stuff on the surface. Imagine trying to extract tungsten on an asteroid!"

"Aha," said Ole, slowly. "Yes, I see."

"You mean, we're actually gonna leave all this behind, and head home?" Melanie nodded. "Doesn't it make more sense for them to send more people _here?_ "

Everyone looked at Michael. He did have a point. There was a psychological tug of war between thinking of transporting all their new-found wealth to the ship, and conveying enough people down to the planet to efficiently work the equipment. There was just so much twelve people could do.

They looked at Melanie. She had led them brilliantly, but they wondered whether she fully understood all the issues. Furthermore, they did not like the way she looked. She seemed to have aged ten years in the past several months. She had gained their loyalty with her selflessness and her knowledge and reliability, and now they wondered, though they had never discussed it among themselves, whether it would not be better for her to be returned to the ship. She was _not_ healthy.

"I've sent a full report, with Alan. They know what there is, they know what we've done, and they know our status. We're all healthy, and we have food supplies for another year. If they tell us to wait, we wait, otherwise, we go."

Kevin hung his head. Then he looked up, straight at Melanie. "I don't think I could be happy on the ship now," he said quietly.

"You'll be fine," Chisako said softly, awkwardly. She was red-faced, and Melanie wondered whether she knew what Kevin was feeling. Or perhaps she knew better than anyone else.

## Excitement at Midnight

Life on the Ship had barely settled down to some kind of routine. Everyone knew the moment Ocean was cooled down. All the segments cooled slightly. It would be a cool winter, to conserve energy. Then the rotational brakes were applied, and very gradually, the rate of rotation slowed. While it was happening there were a few odd effects, but things were soon stabilized at half-speed. Then the great ship was slowly slewed round, until they had their engines aimed sharply outwards, away from the star, forever falling into it, but overshooting it, to stay in a nearly circular powered orbit.

Every person now weighed a little under a quarter of their accustomed weight. Helen gradually learned to adjust to the difference between her mass and her inertia; her arms had to pull just as hard to keep her from lurching off the road, but it was a much easier job to get up from bed in the morning.

The ultrasounds had shown the two fetuses, their arms and legs wrapped around each other. Were they conscious of each other somehow, or did each feel the other as a vague constraint on her space? The display was so clear, Helen could almost tell which girl was which. They were almost exactly the same size, but one was completely bald, while the other had what appeared to be a thick cap of hair. Well, Helen thought to herself, as Lena studied the display intently, Melanie's child will have hair.

The memory of Melanie, the thought of her was a rare one. Helen hardly thought of her; she had schooled herself to let go of her. If she comes back, _when_ she comes back, I will have to work at accepting her, Helen thought. Meanwhile, her world was Lena and the two little girls. They called her Mama, now, and sometimes Lena forgot and called her the same. For her part, Lena called her 'Mama' the way Helen referred to Leilani as 'Auntie Leilani,' a style of speech that was a cousin of baby-talk. But sometimes, Helen knew, Lena slipped, and it was from the heart.

For decades, Helen had taught herself to think that motherhood was simply a practical thing; an unavoidable state that one endured for the sake of having children. She was a teacher, a performer, a singer. For a brief time, under an alias, she had enjoyed being an entertainer of a less reputable kind—but that was all in the past, well forgotten, except to be retrieved as an exciting memory. But now, being a mother was _all_ she thought about, even when teaching her students. Even as she took her classes through the later Beethoven symphonies, or the Brahms concerto, or taught them the finer points of harmony or counterpoint or conducting, her thoughts slipped to Maya, playing with her friends in day-care, or Lena working at her mathematics, or Marissa listening wide-eyed to her history lesson. Or to the two infants in her womb, their impatience growing by the minute.

On Friday, Leilani lavished attention on Hubert at supper. "Have some more," she urged, but he refused, smiling shyly at Helen. "He's very careful about his figure," Leilani said, with approval. Then she took him outside, and said, "She's about to drop the kids, love. They're riding real low. It will be tonight."

He nodded. "You'll be staying?"

It was her turn to nod. "Can you manage?"

He sighed. "Can _you_ manage?" he laughed.

A little later, he was on his way, and Leilani helped Helen with the dishes, as Lena read the others a bedtime story from one of Helen's pretty illustrated books. It was a classic fairy-tale retold by a popular American author, which Helen herself had illustrated in her teen years. It had been her only piece of commercial art, but it had been a great success.

"You should have gone with him," Helen reproached Leilani. "You know I can manage."

"If your water breaks, with only the kids around . . ."

"But Pat, your mother in law, is here. She's all the help I'll need."

Leilani had to admit Helen had a point. "It's just a way of repaying you for all you've done," she said finally. "You don't need me; I just _want_ to be here."

The contractions started at midnight. Leilani heard Helen's gasp from her sleeping-bag, tethered to the corner of the floor of Helen's bedroom. Lena woke and sat up in bed.

"Is it the baby?" she asked in a loud whisper.

"Yes," Helen said, breathlessly. "Call Dr. Ted!"

Lena was all together in seconds. She called Ted Holt, who had been waiting for the call for almost a month.

"Can you get her here, or shall I come get her?"

"I don't know . . . she's really big," said Lena.

"Let me talk to him," said Leilani, holding out her hand. "Doctor? This is Leilani, a friend."

It took a while to establish her credentials, but she convinced Ted that Helen should be moved on a stretcher.

Within seconds, a paramedic team had Helen strapped to a stretcher, and the whole family followed it to the new medical center set up near the elevator doors in Temperate. It was a small, two-room facility, on the lines of what Helen would have called a _clinic_ in her girlhood days.

As the contractions started in earnest, it was Lena's hand Helen asked for. Leilani stood a little distance away, holding Marissa in her arms, while Maya was outside with Pat and George and the boys. They would be brought in when appropriate.

After a particularly strong contraction, Helen looked up into Lena's face and smiled. "I'm trying not to hurt you!" she said with a grin.

"I love you, Mama," Lena said, so only Helen could hear. "Don't worry about hurting me!" The amber eyes seemed to look right into her soul, then they seemed to search her face, as if it were impenetrable. It was as though Helen alternated between being some powerful goddess, and a helpless woman who clung to her.

Helen's eyes squeezed shut in pain, and Lena held her breath to brace herself for another one. "Keep breathing," she urged. "That's best for you!"

"Yes," gritted out Helen. "Keep talking!"

"I love you, I love you, I love you!"

It was over for the present. Helen exhaled mightily. She opened her eyes. "Ask me, some day, what I'm thinking right now!"

Lena laughed. "You will forget by morning!"

Helen shook her head, her eyes looking greener, now. "I will never forget," she said.

"I see one little head," Ted announced. "Nice and big. Helen, I think this next one . . ."

Helen could feel it building. "This is it!" she cried, her voice filling the room. _Too much chest,_ she thought to herself, quite irrelevantly.

"Take a deep breath, Helen, now push. Easy, slow and steady."

Breathing was bread and butter to Helen. Her powerful lungs filled, as Lena watched, her eyes wide.

"I've got her shoulders . . . oh, what a beauty you are, little one . . . just a little help, Helen . . ."

Helen guessed that sudden, jerky pushes might cause damage to herself or the child. She eased up her pressure, and then began to bear again. Lena could feel the strength of the woman she had come to admire for so many reasons. She was stronger than many men, she knew.

There was a sudden cry, and the little girl was in Dr. Ted's hands, as he gazed on the baby with a look of stupid pleasure that made Lena smile, her cord dangling from her little belly. The nurse and the midwife smiled behind their masks, and the routine began. The baby cried out her displeasure at being forced to breathe, her little chest arching in defiance, her legs straightening out in fury. Helen craned her neck to see, her breast heaving for air.

"Let me see," she cried. Lena stared at her in amazement. She had imagined that any woman would lie spent after such an effort.

The staff seemed to take forever to clean the little girl off, snip off the cord, dress it, and hand her to her mother.

"Just briefly; I don't want you holding her when the next one hits," Ted warned.

The little girl had a cap of black hair, and Helen could almost see the features that would someday grow to mirror her mother's. The black eyes were still little more than slits, against the unaccustomed bright lights. Helen held her close, feeling an emotion that Helen had feared that would never come. She need never have doubted. She would love this child as fiercely as she loved the other.

Once the child has given to the nurse, who held it as close to her as Helen could wish, Ted began to make manipulations through the walls of the womb. She had to be turned; somehow, in the excitement, the other child had swung round. To Helen's urgent inquiries whether there was any danger, they replied no, everything was going as well as could be expected. Helen could feel the moment the child rotated into position. She could also see the look in Ted's eye as he worked on her. She sighed to herself. There was an attraction between them that she could not deny, but she could never take Ted seriously. Right now, she knew he was becoming emotional. The intimacy of touch during a delivery should not matter to a professional like Ted.

"Ready?" he asked, smiling.

"When she's ready, I will be," Helen laughed.

Ted reached out to pull Lena forward. "Okay, coach, you're on!" Ted was very fond of Lena, and the girl knew it. Blushing, she took Helen's hand in her own.

"Did you get to see . . . to see your new sister?" Helen said, only for Lena's ears. Lena nodded, her eyes shining. "You'll get to hold her, right after Marissa and Maya!"

"Okay!" Lena said in a whisper.

"Here it comes!" said Ted, examining the poor, battered cervix. It happened much faster. The sleek bald head showed, and then the thin, white shoulders, and as Helen pushed, the second little girl slid out, with a high wail of anger. "Aha, a soprano!" Ted joked, looking just as infatuated with this one. "It's a girl!" There was laughter all round. Most of those present knew that the children were clones, and who the parents were.

As the babies hungrily fed at Helen's ample, engorged breasts, as if they had been starving for weeks, Lena watched them, wonder in her eyes. One of them, the bald one, she knew, was Helen's sister, more than a daughter. She was Helen's twin, Daisy had explained to her. The other one had no genetic link to Helen at all, but Helen held her close as if it were her own. For the first time, Lena began to wonder whether it might not be wonderful to be a mother. She had never imagined Helen with a child of her own, until she had begun to show signs of pregnancy, and matters had been explained to her.

Now the other children gathered round Helen's bed, as the medical staff gave them some privacy.

"You have two little sisters!" they told little Maya, who looked on the infants with wide, happy eyes. Lena and Marissa looked at each other, their eyes shining. It would have been wonderful to have this moment to themselves, but on the other hand, what harm was there in sharing the joy? The little guys were bashful, intimidated by the vast quantities of female anatomy they found on display. Helen was now covered quite modestly except for the parts of her which her new daughters considered a sort of supply depot. The two little girls were, as far as size and shape was concerned, still about the same: weighing in at around five pounds each. Their skin color was a little different; the one a delicate pink, and the other a slightly peachier shade. Once the lights had been dimmed, they saw the pretty black eyes of the one, and smoky grey eyes in the other.

"What will you call them?"

Helen thought, long and hard. Finally she decided to call the dark-eyed child _Diana_ and the grey-eyed one _Athene_. They politely refrained from quizzing her about the meanings of the names, but Helen knew she had surprised them.

As promised, the girls were allowed to hold the babies when they slept after feeding. Lena controlled her impatience mightily, realizing she had less of a right than the others. After all, Diane was Marissa and Maya's sister—at least an aunt. Still, in her heart, Lena felt a closeness to Helen that was frustrating to understand and justify. From time to time doubts crept into her mind, whether the new babies would change the way Helen felt about her.

But she had known Helen a long time, and there was more about Helen Lena knew than did a lot of others. She knew about Lucy, she knew about Aunt Cecilia, and how Helen felt about them. And Helen did not turn her back on them; she still met and talked with Lucy, and the looks that passed between them were still warm and loving. But Lucy had her baby and her husband, and Helen allowed her enough privacy to be happy with them. Aunt Cecilia was different; it was hard to know what she wanted. Most of all, she wanted to know that she could visit Helen when she felt the need to do so. For her part, Helen loved Cecilia very much, and whenever they would meet, Helen greeted her with a great big embrace, and something close to lust in her eyes.

It was only Daisy, her mother, that Helen found hard to be comfortable around. Lena understood that it was not that what they felt for each other had cooled, but that Helen was afraid it would flame too strong. All in all, Lena told herself with a sigh, she had no rights to Helen, but Helen did indeed love her. She looked down at the baby in her lap, who had woken up. She regarded Lena with the thoughtful gaze of an infant who was using her eyes for the first time. Lena smiled at her, and slipped her thin finger into the baby's grip. The tiny fingers clasped it, and Lena closed her eyes with pleasure.

## Coming Home

Helen was taken home on a wheelchair, while the others walked behind. Lena was in charge of the chair, while Leilani carried little Maya, and Marissa walked with her hand in Pat's. As soon as Helen was comfortable in bed, they would begin planning for the babies' room.

The next couple of days were rather trying for all. The two boys found themselves underfoot all the time, to the point where their grandfather had to take them out and entertain them almost the entire day.

Helen had very definite opinions about what she would like in the way of furniture and clothes. Lena and Leilani were sent out to bring Lucy, and after a suitable period of baby-worship, they sent her out to bring supplies and equipment. "I'm pretty good for a Dropout," Lucy told them, cheerfully.

Leilani blushed, confused by the remark, and Helen had to explain that Lucy had connections with the Hippies and all sorts of folk who knew what Helen liked. "Also, we sew," Lucy added. "Some of the things she likes, we'll probably end up making ourselves!"

Once she was gone, Leilani asked whether it was safe. "I mean, what about germs, and all that?"

Helen laughed. "Lucy will be careful," she said.

When the boys came back, Helen invited them into the room to visit. "Wash your hands carefully, and you get to hold the babies for a little while, if you like!"

"Oh, uh, yeah," said Gary, doubtfully. Lena's eyes twinkled at him.

"You know you want to do it!"

"Just for a little," Gary admitted, and ran off to the bathroom, followed by little Eddie.

"You're a good influence on them, young Lena," their mother said, smiling at her.

"They're okay," Lena said, coloring slightly.

"Send for Summer," Helen said, "I want her to meet the babies!"

Helen was proud of the little girls. Cass insisted on coming to visit, and so did Alison and family. Lena had reported to her mother all about the delivery, and Daisy had decided to visit, and bring a gift.

Everyone was pleased with the babies, Cass most of all. They were in the pink of health, growing mightily. Helen was strong, eating well, with no sign of the emotional confusion common among some mothers.

"How do you feel, emotionally?" Lizzie asked, when Leilani and her family had gone out, to give the visitors more room. Helen looked from Cass, to Lizzie, to Alison, to Daisy.

"A little lonely sometimes . . . but it helps to have Lena with me," Helen said quietly.

"It must be very lonely, dear," Lizzie said, taking Helen's hand in her own wrinkled one. "Oh, I remember you, how you were, surrounded by your friends! Saw you on TV, I did!" Helen nodded, smiling. There had been quite a crowd at her side, to smile into the cameras with her. They had been good friends. But now . . .

"I'm going to be fine," Helen said, but her voice gave way when she said it. She swallowed hard, and nodded firmly, not meeting their eyes.

"Yes, of course you will be," Cass said gently. "This woman, Leilani, seems a solid type."

"Yes, she is," Helen agreed.

"We're not too far away," Alison added, looking at Helen thoughtfully, trying to look encouraging. Helen could tell that Alison understood better than most of the others.

Except, perhaps, for Daisy. Daisy sat a little further away, and Helen risked a look at her. And Helen saw at once the knowledge in Daisy's eyes. It was a question of, if she reached out to Daisy, how they could keep their balance, with things being the way they were.

With Lucy's help, the babies' room was soon decorated the way Helen liked. There was plenty of bright yellow, and touches of red and blue, but for Helen's eyes, the touches of lace, the elegance of velvet—not too much to make it a heavy place—and green, a soft, light green to cool the eyes. But above the cribs they hung brightly-colored things, to attract the eyes of the infants.

The pregnancy seemed only to make Helen stronger and more vigorous. In spite of the aching loneliness of the nights, Helen managed to rest and become restored, and give all the encouragement her students needed, in addition to all the attention the infants needed.

She sang to the children. The house was filled with song, not only Helen singing, but everyone in it. Lena sang all the time, her voice gaining strength, but losing none of its sweetness. Her violin playing was resumed, and soon the little fellows wanted to learn music, 'just like Lena.' Summer came to visit, often, and she and Lena between them kept the boys and the little girls occupied. It was now quite a little gang, and when Ben joined them occasionally on a weekend, it was a goodly crowd.

## News from the Mission

The babies grew apace. They were left together much of the time, and they were accustomed to each other to the point where they noticed if the other wasn't there.

Diane was the first to pull herself up on her arms to look around. Athene learned how to do that shortly after, with an expression so similar to that on the face of her companion in the womb, when Diane decided to sit up on her own. And then she turned to the little girl who lay watching her, and reached out to tug at her shoulder. Sure enough, within a few days, they were both sitting up.

Helen had acquired a camera, and faithfully took photographs whenever she saw them do something interesting. Lena, too, and Summer, did their share of compiling an archive for when Melanie came home.

It was Helen who got the idea of sending out a video to Melanie, encrypted.

"The two girls are healthy, growing bigger every day. They seem close, comfortable with each other. Now that they're out, I miss having them inside, Melanie. Somehow, they gave me a kind of comfort that . . ." Helen was overcome, and had to pause for a while in order to get herself together. Then she reached forward to resume recording.

When the first big report arrived, it sent the ship into a tizzy.

"All the elements we expected are, of course, present. But more to the point, Captain Arnaud had been able to establish a functioning nuclear reactor. There is all the power they need, uranium deposits from which they can mine fuel; they have begun to build silicon-based structures with aluminum skeletons. Frozen water has been found.

"There is no air, however, and they have to be very careful with that. The reactor, of course, will help restore the oxygen, with the life-support systems they took with them. But we must now decide; should we bring them back, or should we send a team to join them? Do we take what we have found so far and leave now, or should we stay in this system for a while, say several years?"

There was little time. Cass waited impatiently while the matter was debated. In the end, she got what she wanted: they would stay.

The new vessel they had built entirely in the ship was completed, and tested out in space near the ship. Once again, Helen was conscripted for the job of piloting instructor. This time a whole new set of recruits were ready to try out, and having seen footage of Melanie maneuvering Cutter Alpha, it seemed as if some mental block had been erased. Indeed, youngsters watched video footage from the expedition over and over, for hours on end, fascinated by what they saw. Twelve of their own were out there, exploring, facing dangers, meeting challenges and overcoming them!

A crew of four had been in training since Alpha left, in case a rescue mission needed to be mounted. Now four more were selected, and training began in earnest. Helen gave up her duties in the Collegium completely, and threw herself fully into the project. All day she worked with the mission team, all night she spent with the babies and Melanie's girls, and Lena. Day by day, the six of them grew closer and closer, and at night, they all slept together on the floor, with Helen and Lena on the outside, and the babies in the middle.

Unlike the previous time, Helen insisted on training the pilots in space, around the ship. The orbit involved less acceleration than they had undergone until then, and there was little fear of being unable to get back in the ship. At the worst, all the ship had to do was cut its engines to drift with Cutter _Gamma_ , if something were to go wrong.

Once they were outside, in powered flight, the crew learned to maneuver the cutter well. Soon they were performing quite sophisticated gyrations, and docking and undocking with no fear and no mistakes.

Before they knew it, Cutter _Gamma_ was racing out to the planet, with vast quantities of supplies for the explorers. There was water, oxygen, food, some new clothing, plascrete, inflatable domes, plastic, and hardware for manufacturing, computers, and entertainment. And there was also a physician on board. Since they knew of the presence of uranium deposits, they had no need for backup engines of the wrong kind. There were also detailed orders for the first team. And praise and congratulations for the captain, Melanie Arnaud.

"They're coming," Mimi said, when Melanie finished her breakfast and headed out to the cabin. They still slept on the cutter, though there was a complete dormitory they could use on the surface, far from the radioactive deposits.

"What else?"

"They're bringing everything we asked for, water, oxygen, etc., etc., and . . ."

"What about the plastic?"

"Everything!"

"Who's coming?"

"Nobody I know . . . Jake Pettinger, Bill Slonimsky . . ."

"I know him; he trained with us, remember?"

Mimi shook her head, looking at her notes: "Shaun Bullock, Tim Mishagawa, Kareem Ahmad, David Tierney . . ."

"He was on the reserve list."

". . . Brad Dill, Spencer Jones, and Dr. James Almeida."

"All guys?"

"Er, yeah."

Melanie had never wanted to go back to the Ship so badly. She thanked Mimi, and as soon as she was gone, she clung to Chisako and closed her eyes. "I want to go home," she said, in a voice that made Chisako deeply upset. "I can't stand it here another day!"

"I'll look after you," Chisako said, her eyes filling with impotent tears.

"But you do! You do already! How can I be such a burden to you?"

"Melanie . . ." Chisako searched her mind for words. What could have made Melanie so despondent?

Barb and Ken walked in, and seeing the little drama, paused a short distance away.

"What's the matter?" Barb asked.

Chisako looked at them and took a breath to reply. But what could she say? "She wants to go home," she said softly.

Melanie was vaguely aware of what was going on around her, but for the first time on the mission, she was too miserable to care. Part of her wanted her to straighten up, clear her throat, and apologize for the childish behavior. But try as she might, that part of her simply could not take control. Melanie was sobbing, her thin frame wracked by the intensity of her sobs. Home, home . . . The word echoed in her head. What was home? Home was a confused image of two little girls—surely three, by now?—a tall blonde woman with a smile like an angel, and behind them all . . . a sweet Japanese face. Home was beginning to feel like Chisako.

Melanie's sobs gradually subsided. It had been a temporary weakness, after all. She glanced at Chisako, and quickly looked away. Chisako looked terrible, weary with her own homesickness, the strain of the relationship with Kevin that she had once hated, and which was becoming more familiar and welcome every night, and her fear of the moment of reunification with her husband and her child. But most of all, Melanie's fatigue was taking its toll on Chisako, too. _I wish I felt better, as much as I make Chisako feel bad_ , Melanie thought to herself.

"I'm feeling a little better," Melanie said, her voice muffled with tears, "I don't think I shall ever feel better than this."

"Oh Melanie . . . you've had to be strong for twelve of us," Barb said, softly. Barb was technically the one who had trained to be a counselor on the Cutter, but she had long ago admitted that compared to Melanie, she had little to offer.

Melanie kept pawing at her face, trying to make the tears go away and clear her eyes, but they kept blinding her.

"This trip has destroyed me," Melanie said, collapsing into a chair. "I'm finished. I'm no use to anyone, anymore."

It was more than Chisako could stand; she fell into another seat, her face buried in her hands, weeping loudly.

Barbara's training pushed itself to the fore of her consciousness. She glanced at Ken, and he retreated to the galley. Barb talked quietly to Melanie, while she gently stroked Chisako.

"I should have seen this coming," she said gently. "I couldn't blame you one bit, honey . . . this kind of stress can wear down _anyone!"_ Her natural honesty lent strength to her words. "It's time you stopped being so wonderful, and let us carry some of the strain of keeping up the morale. You and Chisako have done your share, and all of ours, too."

Melanie looked at Barbara, and let out a long breath.

"You make me feel so ashamed," she said quietly.

"You should be proud!" Barb said sharply. "While some of us were behaving like kids, you were the adult. You should feel proud of that!"

Melanie nodded slowly. She took Barb's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for that."

She stood and walked slowly around to stand behind Chisako's chair, to grip the arm of the sobbing girl. She bent to whisper to Chisako, who stopped crying after a while.

"Have you read the logs?"

"Mimi took a large message from the ship. A team is heading out to us, with supplies and equipment. And a doctor."

"What else?"

"Wait until I get cleaned up; we'll play it back together. There's a text transcript in a file somewhere. They always send a text transcription for the record."

Barb watched at the two women quietly made their way aft.

The message was full of joy. They praised the team to the skies, especially the captain, and Melanie had to smile at the recognition she had received. They had all received the Order of the Pioneers, established early during the voyage to honor Bill Peterman who had rescued a number of civilians trapped during repairs of a leaky panel in the Medical center. Melanie had been promoted to Commander, the highest rank given a civilian. The last person to be so honored had been Cass Holt herself. After a complete list of what was being sent out, they were told the wonderful news: Voyager would be put on an unpowered orbit around the star, synchronous with the planet. They were abandoning their kinetic energy, killing their speed, in the hope that the benefits of the proximity to the planet would offset the energy they had acquired.

To Melanie's happy embarrassment, Cass Holt had added a last section for her.

"Captain Arnaud, you will be pleased to hear that Dr. Nordstrom successfully delivered your daughter early this morning at 5:31 a.m. Ship's time, a healthy young lady of 2.6 kilograms, 61 centimeters, brown eyes, black hair. We are happy to report that the rest of your family is in excellent health, and a private file is appended, to be read on the fifth of May! Congratulations, and good luck until we meet again!"

Attached to the text transcript was an encrypted file, for Melanie's eyes only.

"What could it be?" Chisako wondered. "And what's the password?"

There was no clue. Except for the fifth of May.

Melanie puzzled over the clue, her forehead creased in a frown. They must have known it would take that long to get here, she thought to herself. Why was that date so familiar?

Then it dawned on her: it was Marissa's birthday.

She took the file away to a corner and tried "Marissa's birthday" and a couple of other variants, until it yielded to "Happy birthday!"

". . . The two girls seem comfortable . . ." Helen's high, soft voice made Melanie's heart ache with longing. No one had such a range of expressiveness in their voice as did Helen. Normally it would be full of vivacity, low and warm, or tuneful and persuasive. But here, she was pouring her heart out. She could only see a camera, though she was trying to imagine Melanie's face; Melanie could see that as clearly as she could see Helen, seated primly, her arms and legs heavier than she remembered them, due to the pregnancy, her hair a little more untidy than usual; she had probably let the ends split, without Melanie to nag her. When Melanie had left on the mission, Helen's hair had been in perfect, shiny condition.

". . . I know I shouldn't tell you things like this, but . . . I can't keep it bottled up inside me anymore. I know about—you know— _those two._ You needn't say anything; I could see it in the way you stand near them . . . they're lovely people, and I'm not jealous." Oh god, thought Melanie. How can she be that way? If Helen were to touch anyone, _I_ would be murderous. "I have kept to myself, except that since they decided to freeze Ocean segment, your friend Leilani and her family is living with us. And Lena—you remember Lena?—well, she's living with us now. Melanie, I think sometimes that it's only Lena who keeps me alive!"

Helen wiped her eyes, and Melanie blinked furiously to keep her eyes clear.

Then she smiled, right into the camera. "You probably want to see the girls! I'll go get them . . ."

She returned with two rather generic-looking infants in sleeping clothes, and held them up to the camera. Suddenly Melanie recognized her child, the baby who was a part of no one but her, Melanie! The eyes, the mouth, the nose . . . she was so _perfect!_ Suddenly the need to be back on the Ship was almost like a madness. For a brief instant, she could have ordered a take-hold, and taken them straight out to the Ship like a lunatic. But it passed, and she was once more in control.

Then Helen held the other little child to the camera. How gentle those features were! The eyes were light green, probably to turn hazel one day. Already there was the promise of friendliness, that look in the eyes that had blossomed so beautifully in the adult Helen. However much Melanie loved Chisako—and she loved her very much—there was something about Helen that made Melanie warm with pleasure to think that she had sent this message with such great care and planning, out to her, a billion miles away.

Once again, Helen faced the camera. The children were in her arms, sleeping.

"At first, I wanted to beg you to come back, because I'm lonely without you. But, after talking to you about all these things, I'm ashamed of myself. I'm supposed to go train the kids who're going to be piloting the new Cutter. I'm so proud of you, Mel, because in spite of all that I said to keep you here, you went ahead, and look what you've become, the captain of the cutter! Someday I know you'll be Chief. Don't give up, do what's right. I'll wait for you as long as I can. These two will be proud of you. I will tell the children about you every chance I get. This is silly; I'm talking like an army wife, but . . . I guess I am one, sort of. I love you! Tell Chisako and Alan that I send my love, and to all the rest; I forget their names!"

Then she was crying, and burying her face in one of the little girl's hair, and then she was hurrying to the camera to stop recording.

In many ways it was one of the most uncharacteristic things Helen had ever done. Helen knew she had to remain celibate until Melanie returned, or until she knew for certain that Melanie would never return.

Helen threw herself into her work with a vengeance. The crowded apartment offered no privacy at all. At night she and Lena huddled together with all the little girls, and as the days flew by and Lena matured physically, soft rustles from that end of the room told her that Lena's sexuality was blossoming. Soon she would have to deal with that young lady's wants and needs, unless she was willing to give her back to her mother.

Helen's day began as early as ever. Leilani would arrive around six, when Helen and Lena were already up, having left the babies in the charge of Marissa. Helen changed the little girls, and then nursed them for half an hour, and having burped them, left them to gurgle at each other while she and Lena got the older children dressed and fed. Maya was becoming very articulate indeed, and was beginning to imitate Helen's—and Lena's—speech patterns, as was Marissa. Melanie had a distinctively Ocean way of speaking, except that she enunciated far better than a typical Ocie. While Lena dressed her, Maya would keep up a constant chatter about everything she had seen and heard the previous day, including things that were entirely in her mind.

"Diane wants to walk," she said, as if she could read the baby's mind. "The babies want to walk. They told me, Mama."

"Did they, really?"

"Oh, yes. Do I have to go to work today?"

"Yes dear. Everybody has to go to work!"

"Every day?"

"Well, unless they're sick, or having a baby, or something."

"I want to have a baby, Mama."

"And you will, sweetheart! There! You look super!"

Maya's face broke into that lovely smile that was her own special invention. She leaped into Helen's arms, and covered her face with kisses.

They left the house to the Hayakawas, and walked out to the Collegium. After the reorganization of the schools, Maya and Marissa had been assigned to the school in the Collegium. Summer was now off to the Academy out on the hub, to study mathematics and physics and chemistry, while Lena was now in high school in the mornings, and down at the Collegium in the afternoons.

There were now two symphony orchestras on the Ship, the main one, of about forty instruments, which played the entire classical and romantic repertoire, and the other one that focused on only the more popular pieces beloved by average folks, a category of music for which there was a strong demand. Helen had sighed when she had been approached to approve such an orchestra, and handed it over to her students. Accordingly, Fred Williams, one of the older students, had taken over the project, and it was now very successful. Fred, as well as several others, had written pieces exclusively for the pops orchestra, as it was called, and in addition, it served as a source of players for the main orchestra as vacancies appeared.

Early in May, Lena made her solo debut. While Helen was pregnant, both teacher and pupil had put away their violins. Soon after the babies were born, they had made it a point to step up their practice regimen sharply, to the extent of taking the babies out to the Collegium in the nights, when there was nobody around to disturb.

Lena had all the agility that any violinist could want. She had ears that could tell the slightest error in intonation, and a sense of rhythm that was the envy of her teacher. And in Helen she had one of the best coaches in bow technique that the early 21st century had produced. And she had intelligence, patience, and willingness to work. Above all, she had great innate musicality.

"Let's see if you can play the Mendelssohn with the orchestra," Helen declared one day, after Lena had played it flawlessly with Helen at the synthesizer. "We'll try tonight."

"Really?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, Aunt Helen . . ."

Helen looked at her sharply.

"What happened to _Mama?"_

Lena looked at her sorrowfully.

"You _know_ that's what I call you _inside!"_

"I'm sorry!" Helen said in a small voice. The looks they exchanged spoke volumes about how they wanted things to be, and how they actually were.

The orchestra was very much in favor, when Helen put the suggestion to them. The music was circulated, and Lena played like a pro. At the end, the whole orchestra put down their instruments and applauded her. Within a week, a program was ready, built all around Lena. She played two concertos: the Mendelssohn, and the Bach A Minor, and one of the Beethoven _Romanzes_. The audience went wild, and the very next day, there were inquiries about recordings of the performance.

Meanwhile, Frank Williams had begun plans to stage an opera. There were now a number of good voices being trained by Frank, including several good male voices. They picked _The Marriage of Figaro_ , and rehearsals began. Summer was picked for Cherubino, and Lena for his young girl friend. Helen agreed to be the Countess, and new young talent called Wendy Wilson was picked for Suzanna.

# Year 76: Checkup

For a while, Helen set aside her gloom, and as she hummed and sang to herself morning noon and night, the entire house cheered up, including the young Hayakawas, and Lena and Summer.

Cecilia paid one of her lightning visits, to see Helen and the baby girls. She gave her approval to the infants, gave Lena and Summer a hug each, whirled Helen in a quick waltz, and disappeared again.

"Where are you staying?" Helen asked, as she hurried down the road.

"Moved to Tropical," she said, in her quiet voice, as she went out of sight.

Helen had to have lots of tests, as did the babies, every week after the delivery.

"You realize that the genetic material of the baby was tampered with," the doctor said. Helen nodded, red-faced. The whole issue about the diabetes made Helen feel like a criminal. "In correcting the DNA of the fetus, we must make sure that nothing else was affected incidentally."

"You mean . . . you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

"How exactly could we have known? Is it impossible that we made a mistake? No. Should we monitor the child? Of course!"

"Why monitor _me?_ "

The medic looked at Helen coldly. She was firmly convinced that he hated her guts.

"Since you're here, we're doing it as a favor."

"Huh," said Helen, thoroughly annoyed, "you don't really have to, thanks."

At any rate, the little girls grew rapidly. Then Diane began to slow down. She was walking at around eight months, while little Athene was gaining weight, but not walking yet. Still, she could get around at speed on all fours, while her 'twin' was still trying to get around on two feet.

At the age of a year, Athene was a little taller than Diane, around two feet and a few inches. She was walking by then, but both girls were already potty trained, and beginning to talk.

"I was a tall infant," Helen said, "at least, I think that's what they told me. But Jeeze, she _is_ tall, isn't she?"

## Lena

The two little girls, as expected, loved Helen; after all, she had given birth to them, breast-fed them, and she stood for food, and warmth, and comfort, and everything good and loving that they knew. They also loved Lena, and their other siblings. But Helen was their goddess, as was only proper.

One day, they both began calling Helen "mama," and from that day on, _Mama_ was their favorite word.

"It's almost too perfect," Helen said to Lena. "I'm so afraid . . . something could go wrong. Life isn't like this."

One day, at the doctor's office, he told Helen that her blood sugar levels were too high.

"Your medication isn't working any more," he said, in his deadpan way, that Helen associated with the most extreme callousness.

"Oh. Thanks a bunch. How many days to live, doctor?"

He shrugged.

"There's no need to overdramatize this, Miss Nordstrom. You can't possibly think that I wish you ill?"

"Wish me ill? I imagine you sticking pins into a Helen doll when I'm gone!"

He only raised his eyebrows. "You speak in riddles," he said.

"Ohh!" Helen groaned. "What shall I do about the . . ." She saw Lena watching her, her eyes as big as saucers. Helen felt the bile burn in her stomach. This was all so hard on the child who had such great empathy where Helen was concerned. ". . . about the . . . you-know-what?"

"I don't know. We'll talk it over, and give you our best advice. Meanwhile, cut down on sweets, and cut down on calories generally."

Lena said nothing as she got the little girls ready in their new little jumpers. Helen had just cut Lena's hair, and she looked so smart. Somehow, when Lena was with the kids, they looked like sisters. Helen noticed her silence when she replied only in monosyllables all the way back to the apartment.

"So what does it mean? Are you going to be sick, or something?" Lena wanted to know the minute they were back, and the little girls were playing in their enclosure. She hated the visits to the doctor's office, and she hated the doctor, just based on Helen's antipathy for the man.

"No," Helen said, with resignation, sinking into a chair. "Too much sugar in the blood destroys your organs . . . the kidneys, the heart, the liver . . . nothing dramatic happens, really . . ."

Lena came to Helen and knelt in front of her. Her eyes were full of tears.

"I _hate_ this! Why does it all have to happen to _you?_ " She was about to cry.

Helen was stunned. It was one thing to moan about how unfair life was; it was quite another to have a child whom you loved and admired go to pieces because she hated what was happening to you. In a way it was natural; the child had grown up not knowing disease except cancer. But even cancer was associated with aging; young people—of whom Helen was considered to be one—did not get sick, except for the occasional sniffles.

"It's the way I was made, love . . . they fixed it for little Athene. But for me . . . it's part of my genetic make-up. Come, get up, Lena dear . . . look, I'm not unhappy! See? Cheer up."

But Lena would not be consoled. In her world, once you got sick, it was the beginning of the end. She clung to Helen desperately, as if her world was falling apart.

"Think of the babies! What's going to happen to _them?_ Think of _me!_ Think of . . . think of _Mama!_ She _lives_ for you!"

In spite of the agony in her voice, Helen could only smile. She felt strange, with her brow furrowed in sympathy, her eyes full of tears, and her lips smiling. Lena's despair brought home far more directly than she had ever known, how deep her love was, and how much she knew about Helen, and the things that were important to her. The joy she felt overwhelmed the pain for many long minutes.

"It's not such a wonderful thing to live a long life, darling; some of the most miserable people have lived practically forever," she said, softly.

"How _could_ you smile, when _things are so bad?_ "

Helen drew her up into her lap, and squeezed her tight, but Lena sobbed as if her heart would break, as the two little girls stared up at them, their faces screwed up, ready to join in Lena's misery even if they had no idea what was causing it. Helen made soft shushing sounds, smiling down at the little ones, smoothing Lena's back tenderly.

"You should feel how happy I am," she whispered to Lena. "Oh, Lena," she breathed, her heart full, "you could never understand what you are to me! Can you . . . do you have some _hint_ of how it feels—to have a child to weep over my sorrows?"

"My poor, poor Aunt Helen!" wept Lena.

Helen began to laugh in earnest. It was just a little ludicrous.

"Now that's enough," she said quietly but firmly, wiping her eyes. It was impossible to take Lena's concern as seriously as she should. The fact of the matter was that Helen had been a diabetic for so long, it had ceased to be a really fearful threat. Whenever she faced the medics who were so completely stymied by her problems, certainly, she had an attack of anxiety. But once she was home, her mental habits took over: it was a matter of watching her diet, and exercising, and taking the medication regularly.

Helen picked up the little girls. They were both able to stand, now, and Di was walking, and Athene—they hadn't come up with a suitable diminutive—hauled herself around, with furniture and walls for support.

"My little sweethearts . . . come here to Mama . . . oh how lovely you are!" Helen could cuddle them and admire them for hours, and they enjoyed every minute of it. Di loved to bury her tiny fingers in Helen's hair, and to gnaw at it. Athene was equally fond of chewing on Helen's shoulder and ears. Somehow the two of them found it impossible not to fill their mouths with parts of Helen. Helen didn't mind; Lena had a delicious look on her face as she looked on the now-familiar sight, and Helen had to giggle with her. "Ouch, let me look . . ." Helen said, deftly slipping a finger into Athene's mouth. ". . . I guessed as much," she said, pursing her lips and giving Lena a waspish look. "She's getting teeth."

"Oh dear."

"Let's see, little Di . . . oh no. You're getting teeth too."

Lena nodded. "Leilani was saying she could tell from their di-pers."

Helen snorted. "She probably can."

The little girls already had their lower teeth, and they were now getting the upper teeth. Soon, they would look like people, rather than babies.

They were distinct in appearance. Athene had Helen's warm skin tone, especially since the warm season had started, and the segment was being warmed more, and the long daylight hours meant that the babies spent more time in the artificial sunshine. Di had a pretty tan too, but it was more pinky brown, like the complexion of her sisters, Marissa and Maya.

Helen often imagined herself on the planet, watching Melanie going through her day, performing her duties. She would have given _anything_ to be on the surface with Melanie. There was _so much_ she could do; Helen prided herself on her versatility. Playing the role of the artist/entertainer was getting to be frustrating. Of _course_ , she was an artist and an entertainer. But I'm _so much more,_ she kept wanting to assert. She was an excellent pilot, yet she could not go on a mission. And now, with the blood sugar getting worse, they wouldn't let her do anything at all.

"What're you getting mad about?"

"Oh . . . just thinking of all the missions, and I can't go . . ."

Lena looked at her, incensed.

"What about me? What about _us?_ If you go, and we must stay behind . . . don't you _care?_ _"_

It was too late to head it off at the pass. Lena stomped out, furious. The girls craned their necks to see what the matter was.

"Aww," said Athene. "Look?" It came out sounding more like _wok,_ but her meaning was clear. Di pointed at the departed Lena and let fly a long harangue at Helen that was too quick to make sense of, but the gist of it seemed to mean that she wanted Lena back, and Helen was being blamed for her departure. "Hah?"

"Yes, I know," said Helen, "but she'll be back."

"Oh."

Once they were on their feet, getting back on the floor was a problem, which they accomplished by simply dropping onto their butts, plop. Now they were intent on the building blocks they had been given by Ted Holt, which they would sort over and over by themselves. Amazingly, they talked to each other constantly, and everyone could see that they were _agreeing_ with each other, though nobody had any clue what they were saying. They had each other, and though it was nice to have Mama and Lena around, they acted pretty much like twins did, that is, for each of them the other was more important than almost anyone else. At least, it felt that way to their mother. Helen was their mother, and if she had agonized about her relationship to the infants before they were born, she no longer did. They were her children first, and possibly Melanie had some rights to them.

Within a few days, Helen had forgotten the scare at the doctor's, and Lena had chosen to forget her argument with Helen. She took all the children out to visit Alison and Liz, though in her heart it was Daisy they were visiting. She had wondered what her reception would be, but she need not have worried; Daisy received her with quiet warmth, spending time with each child. Her careful approach to Lena told Helen a great deal about the mother and the child. There was no doubt about how important Lena was to her mother. But it was clear that Daisy had emotionally gifted Lena to her, and that Lena acknowledged that fact without any ill-feeling. It was a common practice in ancient times, to part with a younger child to allow it greater privileges of learning or training with a foster-parent. But that was then, this was now. Helen slowly allowed the fact to sink in, while realizing that she dared not address it head on, and certainly not with Daisy. All she could do was to be a good mother to Lena.

## Liz Leaves a Letter

Liz was now failing each day. Her hands trembled, she could walk only with difficulty, and Daisy helped her with most things. Her eyes lit up when the children were in the room; Lena was patient with her, but Ben was at an age when he could tolerate his great-grandmother only in small doses. Alison, too, received her share of love from her mother. But Liz was an intelligent woman, and she knew what a jewel she had in Daisy.

Helen watched the family interact with two minds; one somewhat detached, wanting to smile at the innocence of the members of the family, their strange other-worldliness, their idealism. Another part of her felt a member of it, a complete insider. They had taken Helen into their bosom so unreservedly that on occasion Helen had found herself joining in family fights. As if in a dream, Helen listened to Lena complain about Ben. She raised her eyes to see Daisy grinning at her merrily. Lena smiled when she saw Helen's amusement. She punched Helen's arm in mock annoyance, and went off with Ben to do what he wanted.

The four little girls were now quite at home in the Warren household, and there were particular places that each child seemed to consider her own. Marissa had decided that the whole house was her domain, while Maya and the twins (as they were now called) had their little hidey holes under various tables in the living room. It was a wonderful, dreamy, pleasant day, ending with a wonderful, joyful, pleasant night. Helen had never felt more loved and appreciated as a human being. The warm bosom of her own family, her father, her stepmother Annie, whom she had loved dearly, her half-siblings, they had loved her, but Helen had been more the one who provided the stability, together with Annie. It was lovely, for a change, to be at the receiving end.

It was unexpected, in spite of everything, when Lizzie passed away a few days later, quietly in her sleep. She was 102. Helen joined Alison, Daisy and Lena to bathe the body, cover it in a sheet, and after a brief appreciation of her life, the four of them carried the body up to the elevator, where Alison's environmental team took charge of the litter. When it was being wheeled off Lena gave a soft moan and collapsed into her grandmother's arms in a faint. Helen would not have thought of her as a girl likely to faint, but she had conducted herself with control and calm discipline the whole day. The sight of the body being taken away was, perhaps, just a little too much for her.

Helen picked her up. She was a little heavier than Helen had expected; she had more flesh on her bones now, coming into womanhood very fast. Daisy and Alison stood close, dressed in somber colors—not grey, though; Lizzie had always said grey was for other people, not for her. She had been quite outspoken about her preferences. "Just a sheet will do me. To cover my nakedness. And wear reasonable colors; blue, green. Maroon! Why not? I'll be newly dead, and you think I'd be happy to be looking at grey? People look terrible in grey! Don't they, sweetheart!" It was addressed to Helen, and she had agreed yes, most people looked pale in grey.

They were alone; there was no one else at the elevator doors.

"I want to thank you for letting me be part of this."

Alison smiled that wonderful, calm smile.

"She told me, long ago, that I was to ask Cass. But after you came, she told me no, don't ask Cass. Ask Helen, if she'll come. I think she will. So she wanted you."

Helen had not cried up until then. Now she found her eyes watering.

"Well . . . I'm still a little overcome because of how good the two of you have been to me. It wasn't always because of Lizzie. And I appreciate it." Helen took a deep breath. She found it easy to keep from crying. She was feeling emotional, but she had found a new strength in herself. "When I go . . . you two will have to do the honors."

It caused some surprise. "You're a part of this family, Helen. Don't worry; you'll have a part in everything that happens to us!"

## The Songs of Old Earth

Lizzie had left a brief note for Helen, discovered a few days later by Alison and Daisy, when they went through Lizzie's things. It was addressed to Helen Nordstrom, and written out in Lizzie's spidery hand:

For Helen.

Dear Helen,

I'm writing this for you to read after I'm gone, dear girl. I'll leave it where they'll be sure to find it.

Helen, when I'm gone, you'll be the only living link to old Earth. A few years ago they were asking me all the time, how did they do this, how did they do that. Being the only expert was such a pain in the you-know-what. Every blessed thing about the planet—Lizzie was the expert.

Maybe you can tell, but from the moment I saw you in that bed, just recovered from the freeze, or whatever they call it, I was rooting for you. This big mess of a ship needed you. It still does; it needs you so bad, girl, I hope you live long enough to make a difference.

She went on to say how much she cared for Helen, and for her family, and that she knew Helen would not only do everything in her power to get the ship population psychologically stable and able to cope with shipboard life, she would also help Alison and Daisy to whatever extent she could.

When Alison was born, I was ready to put everything I had into helping my child become a success. But once she did, I realized that it wasn't because I had worked so hard at all. It was a million things I had nothing to do with, you know? And the most wonderful thing of all was how you came to us, and saved us, really. If I wrote you a 100-page letter, I still couldn't begin to tell you how much I owe to you.

I want you to be happy, dear child. We were always too busy to talk, you and I, but this will have to make up for a lot of stuff we never got to say. When we first met—yes we did; look in my dresser, there's the photo you signed for me, saying, Best wishes to a wonderful girl! And you smiled at me, and I felt that you really meant it. Anyway—when we met, I was the child, and you were the adult. And now I'm dead, I suppose, and you're reading this; almost the same age as when I saw you first. The gods love you, Helen, and you deserve it. Give my love to everyone.

Lizzie.

Gradually Helen became convinced that her health was deteriorating. There were a number of indications, but mostly the blood sugar, which was creeping up in spite of the drugs she was taking, and numerous signs she was familiar with: blurry vision, dry mouth, and so on. And she felt horny all the time, which had been something she had noticed just before she had been first diagnosed as diabetic.

The first thing to do was to step up her exercise, and she did that. Instead of running around the segment every day, she walked it, with one of the children strapped on her back, and the other in her arms. They were beginning to talk now, and they could have meaningful conversations, even if a little limited in scope. But the walk did help burn calories.

Lena had found out a lot about diabetes, and she and Leilani were a formidable team. They insisted that Helen should eat a number of small meals instead of just three big ones.

"No, don't eat the scrambled eggs!" Lena would shout. "There's eggs in your lunch bag, for a snack. You can't eat eggs at both meals, Auntie Helen."

"She _can_ eat eggs, uh _huh_ ," said Maya, loyally. She could not understand why Lena laid down the law to her favorite person. "Marissa, she can eat eggs, right?"

But Marissa only said, "Don't argue, Maya. Lena put Helen's eggs in the bag."

"Oh."

Leilani had argued for a snack break around 10 a.m. at the Collegium. "A snack mid-morning, and a smaller lunch should be a good plan for practically everyone. Anyway, I'm going to eat that way."

"I'm sure it's a great idea," agreed Helen, dejectedly. She didn't mind snacks, but it was rather a drag to have everyone worrying about her lunch.

That morning, as they walked to school, Helen remarked with a sigh that she wished she could do another tour of the Voyager. Continued good health wasn't something she could rely on indefinitely. Now, with the children, traveling round the ship was not easy. She hated to leave them with others for longer than a few hours at most; often they would be in a little corner of the room in which Helen was giving her lesson, set off by furniture and boxes, both to give the little girls a cozy environment, as well as to prevent them running off suddenly. (They had long ago stopped behaving like infants; they rarely thought of going anywhere without each other.) They often kept up a low commentary on what they were doing, seated on the floor, their heads bent over a toy, maybe a broken piece of equipment. They loved broken things; they were always dreaming up fanciful things to do with them. Once in a while they would turn their heads round to stare at Helen—perhaps something she said would catch their attention, or perhaps it might be a phrase she had sung. Helen often illustrated a brief phrase with her voice, without bothering to play it.

They would watch her for a while, and then turn back to their play. Helen sometimes caught their eye and smiled, and one or the other would smile back. Helen treasured those moments, especially because they were rare, and also because she felt more included in their world. If she had to go off to a meeting somewhere in the hub, her thoughts sooner or later drifted to the girls, and the thought that she was missing something they were doing was like an ache.

Diane was the more sweet-natured child. Athene was more reflective, tending to watch and listen more than to speak or show affection. Often Diane spoke for her sister, and Athene usually endorsed what Diane said with a nod, or a quiet "Uh-huh." It wasn't that she was lazy to talk. It was more that Diane was more inclined to talk to the rest of the world, and Athene would talk to Diane.

Helen was making a point, and she had just stopped speaking, looking intently at the students, when she heard Athene making a loud remark to Diane, completely unaware that her voice had risen about the ambient noise. The students began to smile in amusement, as did Helen.

Diane turned around at once, blushing. Saying nothing, she merely giggled. She turned back around, and said, "You're talking loud, Athene. They can hear you!"

"Yeah?" Athene said, laconically, and turned round to stare at the students. By this time, the class was ready to explode with amusement. Athene stared at the class for a long second, and her face relaxed in a grin. "We're just talking," she said, and turned around. It was the first time Athene had spoken to the students for both of them.

Helen made a comical face, and began to pick up what she was saying again, as the students laughed softly.

Helen made up the final examination for the course she had put together for the most advanced group. In a sense, only half the material could be tested in a traditional examination: harmony, counterpoint, orchestration, analysis, history, form, and criticism. The rest of it had to be done in projects; actual examples of their work, composition, writing, research.

But putting an examination together was interesting and exciting, and Helen worked on the examination over the weekend, and while Beatrice proctored the examination, Helen played with the girls in another room.

She found that now they wanted to interact with her. They asked her numerous questions, told her all sorts of fanciful imaginings, about the things they played with, the people they knew, and the puzzling things of the ship, such as the line of illumination far above them that served as the "Sun" of the ship. "It's a light, up there," Diane lisped out, her eyes wide. Athene nodded wisely.

They seemed to change from day to day. Helen felt, more strongly than ever, that she wanted to have the girls by her all the time. But she had tentatively made plans to visit Tropical segment after the exam, to visit some of the schools there, and thoroughly study the place. She and Alison had gone through it in far too much of a hurry, after the discovery of the planet.

Helen took out her phone, and called Alison.

"Alison," she said, after they had greeted each other, and exchanged news, "I can't leave the girls behind. I want to take them. I wonder whether I could have some help?"

Alison said, of _course_ she could; she had already decided on someone.

"Oh. Who?"

"Megan Barrows. You haven't met her yet."

Helen was disappointed. She had hoped for Lucy, or someone from the Dropout camp. But of course, they hated to have anything to do with the ship; a tour of the ship would be the last thing they wanted. Helen sighed inaudibly, and settled down to learn how wonderful Megan Barrows was. But Alison talked about something else.

# Year 77: The Twins Tour the Ship

## Megan

Helen met Megan Barrows soon enough. Just as her students were handing in their papers and taking leave of Helen with fond smiles and hugs, and many words of thanks and admiration, a heavy-set woman walked up the path to the Collegium. Everyone turned to look, and seeing who it was, nodded to the newcomer, and turned to finish talking to Helen.

Soon everyone was gone, except Helen, the girls, and the visitor.

The newcomer stood patiently, waiting for Helen. She was dressed in full uniform; navy tights, and a grey tunic. She was a big woman; broad-shouldered, tall, with legs like massive columns inside the tights, which were cut just loose enough not to bind. Helen's eye went to her big arms, and finally to the strong, flat planes of her face, and her deep grey eyes, which regarded Helen with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

"Hi!" Helen said, finally. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm Megan Barrows," she said in a quiet contralto, offering her enormous hand. Helen shook it; it was warm, but held Helen's hand gently. "I'm to be your assistant," she added.

There were many changes in Helen's home. The Hayakawas moved into Alison's home, in spite of Helen's protests, and Megan moved into a little room in the back, with her husband, a quiet man whom Helen met only once. He was a propulsion engineer, and tended to spend almost all his time in the engine-room.

Megan quickly made friends with the two little girls. Because of her great strength, she could carry both the girls effortlessly, a fact which Helen rather resented. Within her little circle, Helen had thus far been the only one who could carry the girls any distance without tiring, and now Megan did it as if she had been doing it for months. Megan did all the shopping, closing up the apartment at night, and all the work around the house. Helen was constantly arguing with her, demanding to be allowed to do some of the work. Megan would let Helen do some of the cooking, especially if it avoided an argument. Megan spoke hardly at all, though she seemed quite articulate, and certainly talked to the kids, including Marissa and Maya, and of course Lena.

She was nearly six feet tall, and easily two hundred pounds of pure muscle. She ate huge meals, though she squirmed with embarrassment when she caught Helen observing her plate. For her part, Helen was generous with her helpings for Megan. A woman her size would normally eat much more.

"Don't you have duties on the ship, Megan?" Helen asked, early on when she had just moved in.

"Sure," said Megan. "I do a lot of the EVA."

"You mean, go outside the ship?"

"Yup."

"Is there a lot of that? I never heard of it happening since I've been—you know . . ."

They were washing up, and Megan had even wiped the dishes and plates dry.

"Every three months," said Megan. "When a kid gets to be 21, they get to go out; fetch stuff from the storage areas. Like, we brought your stuff in for you. Books, clothes . . ."

"Oh! Was it you who did that?"

Megan shrugged, smiling back at Helen's surprise. She had a pretty twinkle in her eye, just a quirk of the lips. Helen loved her smile. "Me and a bunch of kids," she admitted.

Lena was doing her homework in the kitchen, listening. Now she looked up.

"Do you take people out before they're 21?" she asked, interested.

"No," said Megan, matter-of-factly.

"That's so unfair!" Lena exclaimed. "I bet I'd be plenty safe with you out there! Why should older kids have all the fun?"

"It's a good rule," Megan said quietly. She had just the right tone, firm, but not argumentative. Helen had to admit she was really good with children.

A few days later, Alison and Daisy came to stay with Lena and the older girls, while Helen, Megan, Diane and Athene headed out to Tropical.

Very soon after they set off, it became clear that Megan would be essential to the journey. As they headed off along the travel tube at the hub, Helen set off to launch herself as she had done a year earlier. Megan climbed along the tube, deliberately and steadily, still keeping up with Helen. The look on her face, as she tilted it towards Helen, was strongly disapproving. The little girls called to each other, excited and happy. But within minutes Helen's arms wanted to give up, with Athene strapped to her back.

With minimum fuss, Megan strapped on both slings and both little girls, and helped Helen pull herself forward.

"We should have taken the elevator," Megan said quietly.

"No! I can handle it," Helen insisted. Megan did not argue.

Helen was furious at having her weakness exposed, but she gratefully let Megan help her with the large bag of clothes and supplies they towed with them.

After a while, Megan admitted, "You're very strong."

Helen only made a sound of frustration. It seemed important to her not to show weakness before this strong woman. For as long as she could remember, there had been _no_ one who could show her up.

"I've done this so often," Helen said, "I don't understand it!"

"It's the ship," Megan said, unruffled by Helen's anger. "The ship is accelerating harder. It'll be easier coming back."

"Oh!" Helen felt foolish. "I should have realized," she said, feeling chastened.

But it was soon clear that there was more to it than the increased acceleration of the ship. Helen's arms simply did not work like they used to; she often reached for a handhold and missed. She grew accustomed to it, and made allowances automatically. She wondered, did Megan notice? A cautious look at Megan showed that not only did she notice, she was watching Helen closely, and with approval.

"I never asked; when do you have to be back on duty? What happens then; do I get someone else to help me?" Helen had tried to keep the edge of sarcasm out of her voice, but Megan caught it.

"It's the same effect, really; I'm not taking kids outside until we're in orbit."

Helen's eyes widened, and she nodded. She sighed. "I'd have liked to have gone out, just to see what it's like," she confessed. She had thought of it often, but never followed up on it. Megan murmured something vague about arranging for it when things were more conducive.

The section of the tube through Ocean was surprisingly cool. The children were dressed warmly, and the women were warm because of the exercise, but it was far cooler than Helen had remembered it.

"What's it like, down there?" Helen asked.

"Frozen solid," Megan said, with a grin. "That's everything; the sea and the beaches, everything!"

Helen smiled. Megan had a quirky sense of humor.

## Tropical Once More

They arrived at Tropical, and Megan strongly suggested that they take the elevator down. Helen was, by now, feeling a lot better; she was no longer breathless, and her eyes had stopped being blurry. But the bag was heavy, and she felt bad to make Megan climb down with both girls strapped to her.

"Mama!" the girls cried together, seeing Helen looking at them. Helen smiled at them, and Megan, without being asked, began to arrange their loads so Helen could have the girls.

Even in the near-weightless conditions of the hub, the children felt solid and warm against Helen's body, as they were strapped comfortably against her. Helen felt the familiar sensation of their little hands in her hair. Just as Maya had done—just yesterday, it seemed—they showed their affection by nibbling at her, and giggling.

The radial elevator arrived, and they got inside and hitched themselves, Megan supervising it efficiently. They stood across from each other, and Helen studied her companion.

Megan was just about an inch taller than Helen, around five-foot eleven. She wore a variant of her navy tights, something more on the lines of the sweat-pants that Helen had been accustomed to on Earth, with a grey jacket over some kind of T shirt or sweater. Her name 'Barrows' was appliquéed to the back of her jacket. Her complexion, now that Helen studied it, was dark, and her hair straight and a streaky dark blond, pulled back from her square forehead and tied at her neck. She was quietly pretty in her own granitic way, and even quite feminine. It was just that her manner conveyed great stolidity, rather than masculinity.

Helen looked up at her face and blushed to see that her study of Megan had been noted. Megan gave her an amused smile, and her eyes twinkled. "Two hundred and twenty-five," she said. "I'm trying to lose some of it!"

"Oh!" Helen blushed even deeper. "You look fine; I didn't mean to make you think you were too—heavy," she said awkwardly. "I'm around 165."

Megan's eyebrows rose. She nodded. Her gaze was as frank as Helen's had been. "You're big-boned," she remarked. "That's probably a good weight for you."

"I was an athlete when I was younger," Helen said, a trifle defensively.

A look of deep longing came into Megan's eyes. There was not much of a change, but for her it counted as highly expressive. "They had all sorts of sports, didn't they!"

Helen shrugged. "I played tennis. Then I ran, and some other things—swimming, riding, even a little football, which was a men's game, really."

Megan was impressed. "We have Rugby," she said. "You should come for a game sometime!" Helen said she'd love to.

The segment was warm, as expected. They peeled off their outer clothing when they were still only halfway down. The girls pleaded to have their jackets taken off, and Megan helped to do that. Her eyes softened as she watched them show their affection for their mother.

"The three of you are such a wonderful sight," Megan murmured. Helen took a deep breath, her mind filing away Megan's innocent remarks. For all her brusqueness, she was a soft-hearted soul. As always, the thought came to Helen: would she live long enough to see the children through their childhood? What if her kidneys gave up while the girls were still young? There was no use in worrying; there was Daisy, there was Alison—now getting older, but surely she would be glad to take custody of the children?—and there was Melanie, who would surely come back to Helen when the mission was over. "What's the matter?" Megan asked softly.

Helen dropped her eyes. "I worry about bringing up the children—all by myself," she said, a little heavily. She wondered what Megan would make of that remark. What did she want from Megan? She hardly knew the woman.

"You'll be fine," Megan said, her voice rather falsely cheerful. Helen cursed herself; it was inappropriate to burden Megan with her insecurities.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened onto the bustle of Tropical. The girls craned their heads round to see, excited by the unfamiliar sounds and smells and sights. They made soft little sounds of wonder, pointing at this and that, their hands almost painfully tightly wound into Helen's hair. Seeing Helen wince, Megan gently patted the little backs and said, "Gently, girls; don't pull your Mama's hair too hard!" The girls stopped at once, and gave Helen's scalp little pats of apology. It made her laugh. She could almost see the concerned looks on their faces.

They stepped out of the elevator into the barriered area just outside, and then Helen turned to head out in the direction indicated in the sheet of instructions she held in her hand. "Just for today, we'll take a room. After that, I'd like to spend more time outdoors," Helen said with determination.

They set out, with the children on Helen, and the bags on Megan's broad back. Soon they came to the building that served as a hotel or hostel. Helen registered at the front desk, and a very wide-eyed young man conducted them to her room, a luxurious one with two enormous beds, a nice big bath, and a large window that looked out over the bustling market from several feet above it. The sound-proofing reduced the racket to a soft murmur.

Their trip from Temperate had taken them three hours, and Helen's muscles finally made themselves noticed. Helen allowed Megan to unload the children from her back, and felt her back cramping. Her breasts still produced milk, which the girls drank with pleasure, and now Helen took off her blouse, and sat down to feed them. Megan sat across from them, watching unabashedly. Helen looked at her, feeling a little defiant. It was uncommon on the ship, to nurse children beyond twelve months.

Megan gave her a twisted grin. "I guess if I had the chance, I'd nurse them 'til they were ten!"

Helen grinned back. "I grew up on a farm; I think my family considered it normal."

"Don't they hurt you with their teeth?"

"They're very good," Helen said, and received a little pat on her arm for the kind words.

Soon Athene stopped sucking, and squirmed to be let down. Diane followed suit, and Helen fastened her bra with a sigh. It would be over soon; her breasts would dry up on the trip. The girls were looking about for more food, and Megan began to get something for them.

Gratefully, Helen lay on the bed, the ache of her muscles hitting her full force. She lay face down, wondering how she would get up and get started on things she had to do. She heard the quiet sounds of the girls eating lunch, and then silence.

"A warm shower should make you feel better," she heard Megan say near her.

"I'm aching all over!" Helen complained.

Without a word, she felt Megan begin to massage her back. In mere seconds, it seemed, the pain was leached out of her, and a blessed warmth spread all over her body. Before she realized it, she was falling asleep.

It was morning when she awoke. The girls were in their nighties, snuggled next to her. On the other bed, gentle snores stopped abruptly, as Megan lurched out of sleep with a snort.

Helen had never seen Megan in her nightclothes. She looked cautiously, so as not to be noticed. Megan stood facing the window with its drawn sheers, stretching mightily, like a lioness, Helen thought. She wore a thin, sleeveless nightie, and Helen caught her breath, marveling at the beauty of the figure revealed in the soft morning light.

There was no doubt, Megan was built more like an ox than a gazelle. But there was beauty there, and grace, and proportion. Her neck was a little too short, her head a little too square, her waist far too thick. But for those flaws, Helen could not think how to improve what she saw. Megan began to turn round, and Helen closed her eyes quickly, pretending to be just waking up.

"Good morning," Helen called softly, surprised at the warmth in her own voice.

"Good morning," echoed Megan, a smile in her voice that was invisible because of the glare from the window. "How are you feeling?"

"A little achy, but a _lot_ better," Helen replied. She carefully got out of bed, and the girls began to stir awake. "I'm so sorry I was such a nuisance yesterday!"

Megan only laughed, as she pulled a light robe on, and moved to draw the curtains aside, just enough to lighten the room. Her movements seemed a lot more graceful when she was out of her uniform. She had worn her uniform all the time when they had been at home, from early morning until she went to her room at night, to wait for her husband Andy. For a few moments Helen indulged herself with lascivious thoughts of Megan. Then she put them away with a quiet sigh as the girls woke up, and they headed to the bathroom, with Megan following.

By now, the girls were accustomed to having Megan help with their toilet. It was quite warm, and they would all dress lightly. Helen wore a cotton shirt—she couldn't help showing off her Earth clothes; she had always liked to dress as well as she dared—and a brief cotton skirt. She did not realize it at the time, but it was at least in part to excite Megan. She knew she had pretty legs, and she wanted to show them off. Her instruments had been sent ahead, and were waiting at the elementary school they would visit first.

After a quick breakfast, they headed out to look for the school. Helen had one little girl on her back, and Megan had the other. Megan was again dressed in her crew uniform, navy blue and grey. The grey shirt was short-sleeved in a cotton-like fabric, as were the pants. Helen quizzed her about the fabric, and was told it was special-issue. This told Helen that Megan was not your everyday crewman; she ranked fairly high. It was typical of Cass to press an officer to be Helen's nursemaid. Helen was flattered, but there were disadvantages; it would be impossible to expect Megan to obey Helen's every instruction. If Megan noticed Helen's annoyance, she gave no sign.

The girls looked about them open-mouthed. They were still too young to understand the differences in their surroundings from what they were used to. They had traveled back and forth from home to the medical center, but never to another segment.

Diane reacted more articulately to various sights, while Athene puzzled over everything. Diane would say, Oh look, while Athene would just gape. Diane happened to be with Helen, and Helen murmured an explanation now and again. Athene merely gasped softly, and clutched Megan tighter.

The bazaar was a large structured square where there was all kinds of trading, based on barter. Helen watched, astonished; they had hardly spent any time in it the previous year when she and Alison had visited the segment. She told Megan so.

Megan smiled. "We can come back in the afternoon, if you want to," she suggested.

"How late do they stay open?"

"Until around three, I'd say. They may stay open later if there's business, or close earlier."

Helen nodded. What could she trade with? Not for the first time she felt that some kind of currency would make all the difference in how people lived on the ship. Still, for the several minutes they walked within sight of the bustling marketplace, Helen could see no real sign that the lack of a currency was a hindrance. It was more like a swap meet, something not very common even back in the US, when Helen was young, but well-established in certain circles.

"Once school is out for the day, there are kids getting into it," Megan remarked with a twinkle. Helen decided she would like to see that. The youthful energy of school children could hardly surpass what was going on now, though.

The presence of the school was heralded by a cheerful racket. Ahead of them, in the gentle curve of the ship, they could see a clearing open up, and there was the school, with the pretty colored desks that were standard on the ship for elementary schools, arranged in several clusters, separated by trees and bushes, and some closets and cupboards, which presumably held the books and materials teachers used in class.

Seeing the uniform, the kids in the nearest group fell quiet at once. The woman who was in charge, a cheerful-looking lady of around her early forties, looked up at them, and sternly warning her group of nine-year-olds to be quiet in what seemed like an Indian dialect, came towards them. She was tall and handsome, her hair put up in an impressive but simple style, and she walked with slow purpose.

"Hello," she said in English, "how can I help you?" She looked a little suspicious, or perhaps merely cautious. She looked Helen up and down in that disconcerting manner, as if she had no idea who Helen was.

Before Helen could get a word out, Megan stepped forward.

"I'm Megan Barrows, and this is Dr. Helen Nordstrom." The teacher's face changed quickly from suspicion to surprise. "You're expecting her, I believe."

Snatching a quick glance at her watch, the teacher smiled at them easily, and held out her hand. "I expected you to be older," she said to Helen, shaking her hand warmly. "You're a little early; but please come and join us!" She turned to the girl who sat at the corner nearest the back of the 'room' and gave her quick instructions, and the girl, her eyes wide, ran off on her errand. There were more instructions, this time in English, and a number of students jumped up and brought chairs that had been neatly stacked against the trees and set them out for the adults and the children.

"A very well-behaved group of young people," Helen remarked to the teacher, with sincere admiration. The kids glowed, pleased at the words.

"I forgot to introduce myself," the teacher said, "I'm Mallika Ismail. These are fifth-years, the senior students in the school, and we have the privilege of welcoming all visitors!" A glance passed between teacher and students, and a smile. "And what are _your_ names, young ladies?" Ms. Ismail asked Helen's children, who were watching everything very closely.

Athene immediately pointed to Diane, her eyes wide as saucers. Helen was both startled and amused. She choked down a laugh, and glanced at Megan, who had an amused smile on her face.

"I'm Diane," said that young lady, "and she's Athene. She's my sister."

"Diane and Athene!" Diane nodded. The teacher looked at Helen and asked, "They're sisters?"

Helen colored and murmured that it was a long story. "But they're womb-mates, and . . . they may as well be sisters," Helen said. She'd never had to explain so unexpectedly to someone who was unaware of the facts. Luckily the teacher seemed content to leave the subject.

There was the sound of footsteps on the soft ground, and another woman appeared, of medium height, grey-haired, and dark-skinned. Both women were attractive, but Helen was by now accustomed to the generally high level of physical beauty on the ship. Introductions were made quickly, and soon Helen was reunited with her instruments—a guitar and a synthesizer—and a singing class was set up for the next change of lesson.

A soft tinkle on a hand bell announced the period. Soon a line of second-graders filed in, dressed in blue and white, the ship-wide uniform of school children. They had all been taught by one of Helen's peripatetic students, who had since moved on to other schools. Helen had the children seated, and began to rehearse them on what they knew.

Suddenly, Helen had a completely new perspective on the children than she had ever had before. On the earlier trips, she had identified with her young students as with her former self; she could imagine being them, twenty-five years ago, seeing the experience of being taught a song through her own childish eyes. But now, having lived with Marissa and Maya and the twins for three years, it was all different. It was as though her eyes had been opened, and she was seeing _them_ , and not herself. She learned all their names, and listened to their crazy theories about this and that.

Then it was time for another class, a somewhat more boisterous lot, third-graders, this time. There were two groups: one which knew all the songs, and sang them quietly and in tune, and the other that consisted of kids who knew all the words, and were full of enthusiasm, but who sang most determinedly off-key. Helen spent a good twenty minutes trying to deal with them, and finally gave up. The best she could do was to teach them a song in which the sung verses alternated with spoken verses, and assign the two parts to the two groups. She wondered whether the tin-eared gang resented what she had done. If they did, she saw no sign of it.

Later, she learned that Megan had stood watch over the two girls _and_ Helen. There was no way Helen could have needed help, seated in the classroom, but Megan had watched all the same. A pair of young people, a boy and a girl, had been assigned to entertain Diane and Athene. Megan reported that they had done a great job, telling them stories, giving them books to color, and so forth.

There had been a break for lunch, at which time the little group of visitors had been reunited, and had lunch with a small group of third-graders for company. The twins were a great hit, with their quiet manners, and their friendliness with the other children.

"They're very mature for being just under two years," the head-teacher observed. Her name was Mrs. Ramanathan, and was something of an expert in developmental psychology. "Their language-skills, especially, show very high intelligence. Normally two-year-olds only talk to people they're very familiar with, such as parents, or siblings, or . . ."

"Babysitters."

"Yes. But these—they listen closely to everyone." They were talking just out of earshot of the young ladies under discussion. Miss Ramanathan looked at Helen, her own intelligence very evident in her eyes. "All the more responsibility on you, to nurture them."

Helen rolled her eyes, embarrassed and annoyed, though she was pleased at the compliment to her children. In fact, she could take no credit for Diane's intelligence; and if language skills were any indication, Diane was the smarter of the two children. It was a humbling thought. Helen consoled herself that Athene's peculiar intelligence might flower when she was older.

When Megan had been asked by the Chief personally to be Dr. Nordstrom's personal assistant, she had known little or nothing about the woman. The Chief had been a favorite of Megan's father's, and his dying words to her had been that she should help Chief Hutchinson and her daughter to whatever extent she could.

He had been lucid up to the end. It had been only the two of them, alone in their cabin in the crew area. She had been in tears, and her brother, Aaron, was late getting there. He had been sent for, but Dad had dismissed Megan's complaints. He was one for getting down to business. "None of us really knows what good this project is, honey. I signed on because I thought I could be useful. So did your mother. Now quit crying!" Megan had taken a deep breath, and wiped her eyes and listened. "Many of them are going about their jobs, with no god's idea what it's all about. But that girl, Cass Holt, the mission is in her blood." Megan had nodded. She had never called the Chief _Cass Holt_ —nor had Dad—but he was dying. "Sometimes, when you don't know what to do, you've gotta trust someone. You can trust Cass Holt. You hear me, hon?"

"Yes, Dad," she had said. Then he had told her how much he loved her, and how much he loved her mother, and had died a few seconds before Aaron got there.

"Did he say anything?" Aaron asked, wiping his eyes. "I just couldn't get away, Kate wouldn't let me!"

"Just about . . . Chief Holt," Megan had said. "To trust her."

"Trust her about what?"

"I don't know!"

Aaron had sighed, and then he had sat near her and put his arms round her, and Megan had cried her heart out.

Cass Holt had been seated in her big chair in her office. She had made Megan sit, though she preferred to stand before the Chief. The huge navy-and-gold striped swivel-chair gave the Chief that tremendous air of authority. Megan was aware of being manipulated, but she also knew that the Chief liked her, and Megan knew now, independently of her father's commands, that Chief Holt did not have anything but the good of the mission in her heart. She was a benevolent soul, and was kind to everyone, but the Ship came first. Megan did not have the superstitious reverence for the Chief that some of the younger ship folk had. Her respect for her was based on sound common sense.

"She's diabetic. That means she has to have meals regularly; small meals, about six of them a day, equally-spaced." Megan nodded. "She mustn't over-exert herself. She's very strong, but not as strong as she thinks she is." Megan nodded again. This was all new information. "She could fall into a coma if she goes without food for a little too long. Keep some sugar pills handy; Dr. Holt will give you some." Megan nodded. "I want her to have as much time with the two little girls as she can. If anything happens to her, they're all we have." Megan was amazed at the worry on the Chief's face. She was worried about this woman, as much as she was worried about the ship. What was this all about? "Okay, Megan . . . any questions?" The Chief slumped in her seat, eyes closed.

"What about the space walks?"

The Chief had shaken her head. "Once we get to the planet, there'll be lots of opportunities for EVAs. The last thing we need when we're maneuvering is a bunch of kids on the outside, hanging on with tethers."

"True," Megan had conceded. "Does this mean no EVAs for the next several months?"

"No EVAs until further notice." The Chief had taken a deep breath. "I'm giving you permission to call yourself Ensign. I think Helen will resent having to drag a Lieutenant around with her."

"Understand, Ma'am."

"The two children: one is her own. The other belongs to Commander Arnaud, heading the mission." Megan's eyes had widened. She nodded. She had been dismissed. She saluted smartly, and left the room.

## Ensign Megan

Megan had never seen a picture of Helen Nordstrom. When she had finally found her, in the Collegium, what had struck her was the thinly disguised sadness of the woman. There was a net of sadness, weariness and worry, wrapped like thin steel around her. There were bursts of pleasure and joy that shone through the sadness: when she spoke to the children, or spoke about them; when she talked to the young girl Lena, about whom she had not been told; when she interacted with her students. At first Megan had simply taken the sadness as part of the woman. Megan assumed that, in the course of being with her, she would learn the cause of that sadness and worry. But as she got to know Helen better, the sadness began to eat into Megan as well.

The woman was lovely, yet there was no sign of a husband, or even a lover. So Megan began to think that the sadness had to do with some tragic love affair. She wasn't interested in such things, and so she had put the mystery away in a corner of her mind. She hadn't even mentioned it to Andy, to whom she confided most things. He had only asked her if she minded the work.

"I guess I'm sort of on-call for maintenance work. Otherwise, I don't mind; she's an okay sort."

"It's sort of stupid, to follow her around."

Megan had shrugged. "Maybe it'll make sense in a week or so. If it doesn't . . . I'll talk to the Chief."

Andy had chuckled. Megan could talk to the Chief, but in the end the Chief would have her way.

Megan sat with the little girls as they played. From time to time she stood up to see how Helen was doing. The woman was very good about her meals. She had eaten a small snack between classes, and a small lunch. She was in fair physical shape, given that she had this mysterious ailment, but sustained physical activity was very difficult for her. Carrying the children around on her back was not a good idea.

Helen was singing. When she sang, she came closest to obliterating that net of sadness that kept bothering Megan. She had a lovely, clear, clean voice, like milk, or syrup. She sang as clearly as she spoke, with every sound as clear as a bell, her lips dancing with her speech.

Megan looked down, and the little girls and their two friends had their faces tilted upward at Helen.

"Is she singing?" asked one of the students, the boy called Hussein. Megan smiled and nodded. "Can we see?"

Megan said the two students could peek round the corner, while she carried the little girls on her shoulder.

"Mama's singing!" whispered Athene to her sister.

"Yes," said Diane. "I know that song."

"Me too," said Athene.

The five children were the stars of Helen's world. Every night, Helen talked to each of them before they went to sleep, and last night Helen had called and spoken to the three she had left at home. Megan knew they would all miss Helen, but they had school to attend, and could not be roaming the ship.

Two periods later, they were headed back to town. Megan handed Helen a stick of bread she had saved from lunch, and Helen gratefully took it and ate it, sharing it with the children. Megan pulled out a stick herself and munched as they walked.

"You must have been bored all day!" Helen said, more a question than a statement. Megan was surprised; she hadn't really noticed the time going by. She missed all the young company she would normally have had, if EVAs had been allowed. It was embarrassing to realize that she was enjoying the two little girls. "It seems wrong to keep someone of your rank away from her work!"

"I'm just an ensign, Ma'am," Megan said, not too happy about the nominal demotion.

"Ensign? Is that a pretty high rank?"

"Not very," Megan said, truthfully. "Higher than midshipman, though."

The green eyes studied her doubtfully. "You look as if you should . . . anyway," Helen said with a blush, looking away, "I shouldn't interfere."

Megan breathed a sigh of relief. Evidently, it had been a good idea to get demoted. Helen was quite capable of protesting about being saddled with someone with rank too high.

They rounded a twist in the road, and the noise grew louder. In seconds they were on the outskirts of the market. It was a lot quieter than that morning, since most of the fresh produce had been sold before noon. Certain stalls were now closed, but others had opened, notably handicrafts. On Earth, some of these items would have commanded an excellent price in a suburb of New York, or San Francisco, or Philadelphia. Helen walked up to watch the bargaining between a woman who was selling a clay ornament, and young lad just out of his teens, dressed in his Academy clothes.

"This one," he said, firmly. The woman refused.

"Let me see all of them," she insisted. He showed her a few more. " _That_ one!"

His eyes grew wide in mock indignation. Helen grinned at the pair of them, and they glared back at her. She hastily withdrew.

Megan began to see the signs of fatigue in Helen. She was carrying the instruments, and Megan had the children. They had been watching the bartering for almost an hour, and it was time for another of Helen's little meals. Megan looked about, and saw a booth that offered food. But this was not standard-issue food; they would have to barter for this stuff.

"Let's get some food," Megan suggested, for the third time. Helen was transfixed by the bartering going on between two women. Megan gripped her shoulder hard, and Helen turned in surprise.

"Oh! What?"

"Let's get some food," Megan said. Helen's eyes took in Megan's face, and there must have been something there that made her pause. Perhaps Helen could see that she was hungry, too. Helen looked at the children, clearly running out of steam.

Helen nodded and looked about. Megan steered her gently towards the central section of the town, where the enclosed shops were. Helen looked back, yearningly, but let herself be led towards the cafés.

Suddenly there was a surge in the noise, and a score of school-age children were everywhere, bargaining at the tops of their voices. Megan had to haul Helen away.

A sandwich and a glass of juice revived both mother and daughters, and their hungry guardian.

"I want to go get some of my stuff!" Helen said, her eyes excited.

"What stuff?" demanded Megan.

"Oh, odds and ends," Helen said evasively. "Let's hurry!"

She did, indeed, have odds and ends to sell. There were several recordings—mostly her own, and some from other musicians she had trained—there were trinkets from her own collection, things that Lena and Summer had played with and gotten tired of, toys that Melanie's children had given her specifically to trade. She also had a packet of things she refused to show Megan.

Leaving the instruments behind, they headed back to the bustling scene they could see from the window.

Helen's first stop drew a huge circle of spectators. She traded a piece of authentic Navajo jewelry for several beautiful silky scarves, and a pretty Ocean trinket for a recording. The disk had been packed in a pretty case, with a picture of Helen hand-painted on the insert.

"Do you know who this is?" Helen asked the seller, pointing at the picture.

The seller's eyes widened. " _You!_ " he exclaimed. "Give that back!"

Helen only laughed. Now she had a small crowd following her as she went from stall to stall. She sold the recording for several little wooden elephants, and proceeded to trade the elephants for various things for the children.

When she had traded everything else away, she opened up the packet. It was a set of twelve paintings in pastels, of scenes on the ship, ranging from the Purple Pumpkin, to the piloting nacelle, to Cutter Alpha, to a circle of people in a clearing in the woods, singing songs around a lamp.

Megan craned her neck to see the paintings, but they were sold so quickly, she only got fleeting glimpses of them. On request, Helen would sign them. There was only a vague knowledge of who Helen was, but there was much interest in getting her signature anyway.

The two little girls tired of all the excitement, and Diana began to cry. That was the end of the day for them; they said goodbye to their new acquaintances, and headed back to the hotel.

Once again, Helen felt the ache in all her bones. She only needed to look at Megan, and Megan left what she was doing, and came to minister to the exhausted tourist.

"Take off your shirt," Megan instructed, as she found the bottle of oil she had put in her sack. She went off to the bathroom to hold the bottle under the warm-water faucet for a minute. When she came back, Helen was stripped down to her waist. There was some shyness in her expression, but more pride, Megan thought. The breasts were full, but not as full as they must have been at one time. "Lie face down," she commanded, and when Helen complied, she sat on the edge of the bed. Megan noted how attractive the legs were, marbled with tracings of light blue veins. Her prettiest feature was, of course, the long curly hair, now braided in a thick rope down her back.

Helen gasped as Megan poured the warm oil on her skin, and began to knead.

"You mustn't overdo it," Megan remonstrated gently. "You can do more if you take it slow."

Helen was silent for such a long time that Megan wondered if she had been hurt by what Megan had said. But it didn't matter; Megan had said it for Helen's good, and that of the little girls.

"I'll try to remember," came the soft answer. Megan smiled. The girl had a lot of good sense. She would have made a great match for some lucky man. Megan sighed. Something had obviously gone awry with her romance.

They rested for a while, until it was dark, and then ordered in a light supper. Under Megan's watchful eye Helen took her bedtime medication, and then they called home. The hotel room had the latest video phone, and they all had the chance to see and speak with everyone back in Temperate. Marissa missed Helen very much, and did not talk much, only looked into the screen with her great big black eyes. Little Diane pointed at Marissa's image and called her name. "Hi, Diane," Marissa said, summoning up a smile.

Maya talked a lot more, though she asked when everyone would be back. "Tomorrow?" she asked hopefully. "Yes," said Diane, for whom the entire future was tomorrow, just as it was for her older sister. "No," said Athene, into whose thought processes no one had much insight.

Lena came on next, and talked with Helen for a while, showing no signs of being upset. But towards the end, there were some hints that she was missing Helen. Then Daisy came on, and Megan was surprised at how close those two were. Megan knew only that Daisy was Chief Alison's daughter-in-law, and Lena's mother. Now it became clear that Daisy was a very close friend of Helen's. Megan spoke to her boss, Chief Alison Warren, and they traded coded signals about how things were going. Megan reported that Helen was not being reckless, and that they were being received as well as could be expected.

The next day it was another school—a middle-school, this time—and Helen had a successful visit. They pestered Helen for a concert in this segment. It was hard, they said, to travel over to Temperate for all the big concerts. Helen promised to think about it. On the way home, she complained about being unable to really get to know any of the students in this kind of thing. You met them one day, and never saw them again.

Helen wanted to go to the market again, but Megan insisted that she rest in the afternoon, and take up the offer to attend one of the receptions that the segment mayor had invited her to. As an important visitor, she was expected to meet the mayor and be introduced to some of the other important visitors.

"Go by myself?"

Megan sighed. "Sure. Just don't tire yourself too much!"

"Maybe you could come with me?"

Megan laughed. Sometimes Helen was so like Megan's childhood friends that it was unexpected and hilarious. But she was serious; Helen was beginning to become dependent on Megan. That wasn't good.

"I'm just a bit tired," she said, "and the little ones should sleep early tonight. We have a bit of a trek tomorrow."

Helen nodded, and gave in to the inevitable. Megan got tired too, she must have thought to herself. At any rate, she dressed, quite prettily in a black-and-gold Kaftan-like robe, and headed out, having learned the way from Megan.

The girls played for an hour, and let Megan wash them and dress them for bed. Then both of them suddenly fell asleep, rolled together. Megan studied them, amazed. They were not even sisters, but they were so close, perfect foils for each other. For the first time in many years, Megan wondered whether it made sense to forgo the pleasure of children, as she and Andy had decided. She had nothing against kids, as such, except that they would interfere with work. But she was finding that she enjoyed these two immensely.

That night, when Megan had turned out all but one dim light in the room, and lay down to sleep, she was filled with the almost unbearable sexual ache she had felt every night that she could remember. Without Andy, she had to attend to it herself. It was a well-worn routine, which she had given up for the previous night, because of the lack of privacy.

With a mental shrug, Megan began to touch herself, building up her desire to the relentless climax she was confident of attaining. It took several minutes, but it never failed. The heat spread through her muscles, until it reached her breasts, and she began to smile softly.

The door opened softly, and closed. Megan, flustered, wondered what to do. But her hands, on autopilot, kept moving of their own accord, raising her excitement to fever-pitch. Megan felt the soft swish of clothing being removed near the door. Bless the girl, she thought, she's giving me some privacy. After all, she must have lived in a dormitory, as was the custom on Earth. Megan bit her lip, so that she would not cry out as she climaxed. This was the best ever; she could feel her body humming for a long minute, and then the exquisite pleasure of the relaxation that followed.

She wanted to make a sound, say something; thank Helen for her understanding. Her heart was beating with an unfamiliar something extra . . . was it the added excitement of being watched? She heard Helen lie down with a sigh, and fall asleep in a couple of minutes. The moment had passed.

The following day, they had breakfast, put all their stuff in a cart, and headed out to a community about a half-mile away. Helen had woken up smiling, and the day had begun beautifully. Every segment had a small, carefully controlled bird population, and tropical birds were as unusual to Temperate ears as they had been on Earth. The little ones had been eager to walk, and as soon as they were outside the bustle of the town, they were set down on their feet, and they ambled along for a few minutes, at their maddeningly slow pace.

"All right, that's enough for today," called Helen, firmly.

"No, no, no," protested Athene, indignantly, but before she could run, her mother had her around the waist. Diane was captured by Megan, and they were put, still struggling, into their harnesses. "Oh no," said Diane, in her still pathetically mild vocabulary. "It's too bad!" "Yeah," agreed her sister.

They weren't expected until after lunch, so they could take an easy walk.

"How did you make out last night?" Megan asked.

"Last night? Oh." Helen seemed flustered. "Pretty well, actually; I'm glad I went. There were just four people there, including me, and the food was fabulous."

"And the mayor?" asked Megan, thinking she should have gone with Helen. She was beginning to get a feel for the importance of the woman, and it didn't seem appropriate to have her walking around without an escort. It wasn't that Helen wasn't capable of looking after herself, but that ship folk weren't always as respectful to her as they should be. Helen could be as regal as anyone when she thought she should, Megan knew. But most of the time Helen's thoughts were far away, unconcerned with matters of appearances.

"She was wonderful," Helen said, allaying Megan's fears. "She was interested in education, and how many Tropical folk were involved with the planetary mission. It appears that nearly half the crew of the first cutter were from here."

"Really? They looked temperate types, all of them, except Captain Arnaud, of course."

"That's what I thought, too. But that was what she said. She seems an interesting person, very involved in everything."

Helen went on to talk about the other guests. Apparently someone had suggested, half in fun, that she could sing for favors. They had seen a video of someone who had made money by singing at a street corner in New York, and it had seemed a lovely custom.

Megan was very angry. "I think it's a terrible idea," she said. "You'd ruin your reputation very quickly!"

She did not know it, but she learned that it was exactly the wrong thing to tell Helen.

## Elephants!

Megan insisted that they stop at a roadside café on the way, and that Helen should have her mid-morning snack. The road was deserted for the most part, except for the occasional walker, who would smile and nod at them. They even passed an ancient bicycle, to their delight. The little girls stared open-mouthed. Helen wanted desperately to call the rider back, but by the time she had opened her mouth to call him, he was gone. "What's he doing, Mama?" asked Diane, and Helen had to explain. Even Megan was amazed.

Once they had stopped, and they each had had a snack of a banana and a cup of tea or a glass of what passed for juice on board ship, and they had made friends with a little girl who peeked at them from behind a tree, Helen decided to pull out her guitar and sing.

Megan frowned her disapproval, but Helen sat under the eaves of the little eatery, and sang little children's songs, initially to entice the little girl out from behind her tree. The little tyke turned out to be barely three, and bright as a button. Diane and Athene stared at her with intense curiosity, and Megan noticed that the two twins looked significantly older than their new friend. She decided it must be their diet.

Ten minutes later, quite a crowd had gathered, and Helen was still singing. These were silly songs, not at all like the ones she taught in schools. Soon there was a crowd listening, including passers-by who seemed to forget what they were doing. Megan remembered the first person who fished an elephant out of her bag and placed it with a smile on the table next to Helen, earning a grateful nod. Within seconds there were little elephants galore on the table. Folk would trade a couple of elephants for a recording, or a recording for a couple of silk scarves. Sometimes there were anxious looks at Megan, since she had insisted, once again, in wearing her uniform. Megan stood at the extreme edge of the verandah, arms folded, like a grumpy colossus. Helen finished a particularly long ballad, and stopped, a lot more tired than when they had turned off the road. There was lots of applause, and little hugs and pats from the audience, which reluctantly headed out on their errands once more. The owner of the boutique came out with another cup of tea for Helen, and a big smile. Helen asked for another banana, and got it.

Megan finally came out of her sulk to face Helen, and give her a piece of her mind. But when Helen looked up at her, her face was so full of joy that Megan simply could not bring herself to fuss. For form's sake, Megan complained, "We're going to be very late unless we set out again right away."

"Oh Megan," Helen said, eyes shining, "look at all the loot! I can trade for stuff for Daisy and . . . and for you, and your Andrew!"

"Andy?" Megan asked, puzzled. "He doesn't need anything!"

Helen made a gesture of reproach. "Here, help me get this stuff wrapped," she said, as the little girls began playing with the gifts on the table. They gave a little elephant to their shy friend, packed up, and headed out again. "What's your name?" Diane had asked her, and she had shaken her head and smiled at them, too shy to reply. "She doesn't have one," conjectured Athene.

An hour later they were at their destination, a little east of the foot of the elevator. It was a great pleasure to meet Lucy, who was at the local middle-school, on a two-week stint. It had been months since they had seen each other, and Lucy was pleased to meet the twins.

"Oh, look at them," Lucy exclaimed, devouring the little girls with her eyes. "They're so beautiful! Helen, they do resemble each other! Look at the expressions on their faces!" Helen nodded and said, yes, they did often wear the same expressions. It was wonderful to listen to Lucy's enthusiasm once again. Megan watched the reunion with interest, filing away this friendship with all her data concerning Helen and her circle. Lucy seemed a good sort, and Megan approved of her loyalty to Helen.

Lucy introduced Helen to the head teacher of her school. Lucy had been teaching at both the middle school and the elementary school, and after Helen had conducted a class at one school, she took Helen to the other. While Megan looked after the little ones, including Lucy's young son, Helen and Lucy taught three classes, until school was out for the day.

"Come and stay with me," Lucy asked.

Helen smiled regretfully. "There's too many of us, love," she said; "we'd strain your space too much."

"Wait until you see it!" Lucy insisted. "It's very different!"

It really was. It was a large house, walled on four sides, and roofed on four sides, with an open courtyard. It was so warm, year round, that it provided all the shelter they needed. It was where the Dropouts of that area lived, and evidently they were far less isolationist than were the Dropouts in other parts of the ship. Helen tried to remember whether it was this camp she had stopped at the previous year, but no one there seemed to remember her from her previous visit.

"What do you think?" Helen asked Megan. "Do you have a problem staying with a Dropout community?"

Megan shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me," she said. "They're people, same as anyone else." Helen squeezed her hand gratefully for that sentiment. Somehow the Dropouts had become special to her, ever since they had taken her in, and Megan thought she rose several notches in Helen's estimation from that moment on. And, to add to her confusion, Megan discovered that this meant a lot to her.

The evening with Lucy and her little boy was very enjoyable. There were lots of things to do, and a wonderful variety of new friends to meet. The arrival of the visitors was a cause for celebration, and Megan watched with interest at the delight of the hosts which matched that of the guests. Helen was extraordinarily pleased to make acquaintance with three couples, who sang for them after supper, a host of little children, who were only too glad to play with the new arrivals, several elders who were eager to hear stories about old Earth, and Helen's experiences. These were subjects that had never come up before, and Megan listened in wonder to the stories.

"At first," Helen said, "I learned to sing the songs. Then they made me play, while someone else sang." Helen sang several songs in an ancient Indian dialect, to illustrate, keeping time with a complex rhythm that was totally different from anything Megan had ever heard. Helen was seated on the ground, as were they all, her back straight, and her voice, though quiet, filled the courtyard. She had worn a long skirt, to make sitting on the ground easier. She seemed to have more in common with the girls who surrounded her, with their long glossy braids and almond eyes, than the women of Temperate.

"Then they made me sing, while a girl danced. That was the second week. We did that for the whole week. And then, they made me dance!"

There was a gasp all round. Lucy grinned and said yes, Helen could dance; she had seen her. But nothing would do except that Helen must dance for them. And Megan could see in Helen's excited, childlike eyes that she wanted very much to dance for them. She was a performer, an artist, and performance was a part of her.

## Helen Dances

Helen proceeded to sing again, with a suitable drone accompaniment, and it was recorded. Then Helen got to her feet, and began to dance to her own singing. It seemed to Megan that she was dancing for her. It was incredibly intricate footwork, as well as subtle and eloquent movements of the hands, something Megan had never seen, but which grabbed her attention in a way that she never expected a dance-form to grab her. She stood in the shadows, where she could keep an eye on the little girls as well as Helen, and as she watched, it was as though she was born again. She had not danced a step after the age of twelve, when she and her friends had invented their own dance, a fanciful thing they did out of sheer youthful exuberance. All the joy in motion of that occasion came flooding back to Megan, as she was caught up in the joy of the other spectators there, who had perhaps a lesser appreciation than Megan for the beauty of what they were seeing. _They can't possibly see the beauty of those hands,_ she thought to herself.

Helen slowed to a stop, blushing. Then she fell to her knees, still smiling, and lowered herself to the ground. People rushed to her, steadying her.

"I just got very dizzy," she said, with an embarrassed smile, as the two little girls cried out, " _Mama!_ "

In seconds Megan was with her. She had planned very early on, how she would get to Helen in an emergency, never dreaming that she would actually have to. She crouched next to Helen, who clasped her shoulder with a strong grip. She looked at Megan, her eyes troubled.

"I haven't danced in a long while," she said, as if expecting to be rebuked.

Megan took her pulse, which fluttered a little, and then came back strong enough. Helen's color came back in a minute or so, and Megan announced that Helen was okay. "She probably should hold off on the dancing for tonight," she said quietly. Lucy, who had hurried up, agreed quickly.

"You can't dance like that without working up to it, Helen," she said, and Megan was amused when Helen sighed and drooped, as if she could relax now that she had been told off. Helen, Megan and Lucy moved aside, and the evening's entertainment continued, with others stepping forward to sing. There were little skits, folk-songs, and a kind of sung rhyme that was probably their version of poetry or ballad. And Megan was amused to hear a cruder version of the song Helen had sung in dialect. Helen and Megan exchanged glances, as they both recognized it at the same time.

"Can you tell what that is?" Helen asked, pleased at Megan's recognition. Megan nodded, smiling. Obviously the singers had not realized that what they were singing was the bastard child of the tune Helen had tried to dance to not half an hour ago.

It was almost midnight when the concert wound down with an epic tale told by an elder. The older folks of the commune—which is what it was—went round, supervising the cleanup, and making sure everyone had a place to sleep. For the first time, Megan found herself sleeping next to Helen, on a grass mat, on the ground. The light, high up, was a dim glow, their moon and stars combined. The lights were dimmed, and there was a soft murmur of voices, as children, parents and lovers talked softly to each other. The two little ones lay between Helen and Lucy's little boy.

"Thank you for looking after me," Helen said.

Megan smiled in the darkness. It was pleasant to be able to anticipate what Helen would say.

"It's my job," she replied.

Helen sighed. "It's difficult to explain how I feel about these people," she said, apropos of nothing. "It has to do with my life, long ago . . . people and places . . ."

"I understand," Megan said softly, pressing Helen's hand as it lay next to her. Helen caught her hand and held it. Megan was embarrassed. Helen's affectionate ways reminded her of her father, and those were memories she'd rather not waken. She missed her father very much.

They spent a couple of days at the Dropout camp, going back to teach the middle-school, an elementary school, and visiting another market. There were many German families living in a village some distance away, and Megan heard Helen chatter away to them in their own language. Except for a word here and there, she could figure nothing of what they said, though they paused every once in a while to tell her in English what they had talked about.

On the third day, Megan surprised Helen and the two children by appearing in a skirt and blouse. "Megan!" Helen cried, inordinately pleased. "Oh, you look absolutely marvelous!"

Megan's crooked smile was amused. "It's just a different uniform, that's all," she said, "don't get so excited."

"But—but it's so attractive, and it really suits you!"

"It is a lot cooler to wear," Megan admitted. The skirt was blue, but it wasn't navy; it was simply a medium blue calf-length skirt, with a simple white cotton shirt. They were getting ready for another move of about a mile, to the last large population center in the segment. Helen was in excellent spirits as they set out, once again, striding along, humming to herself, with Athene on her back.

Ever since the odd incident while Helen had been dancing, Megan had felt strangely protective of Helen—even more than before. Also, while before, Helen would make all the decisions, and Megan had to argue to have a say in what they did, now Helen looked to Megan to decide things. Megan was not very comfortable with this state of affairs. She had come to think of Helen as their leader; in spite of the fact that Megan had been in a position of authority for more than a decade, it was clear that Helen was the more intelligent, and in some ways the wiser of them both. This new reticent Helen was confusing.

As they grew closer to their destination, they saw various structures come into view in front and above them. Because of the curve of the ground, it was as if they were always climbing out of a valley. When they got there, of course, they were at the same level at which they had been!

But this was an engineering center, and there were many engineering offices, some workshops, and a few research labs here. To Helen's surprise, there were a great many white folk, who could have belonged in Temperate. So the segments were not organized ethnically, but simply by preference.

They found the hotel, and checked in. There was a subtle difference in style; the windows were dressed differently, the vegetation was a little different, and Helen noticed that the noise of the market was almost absent. They found that there was, indeed, a market, but it was run far more quietly. In addition, Helen found, there was a fascinating new phenomenon. This market printed its own paper currency, apparently an experiment only about a week old.

"You sell anything you like, trade it for these certificates," the vendor said. "They're just as good as the little elephants, but lighter!"

"What if you don't want them anymore?"

"You buy something with them!"

"Can you buy elephants?"

"Sure! An elephant is four of these certificates."

It was around four in the afternoon. They explored the little village, which had a number of special exhibitions around the central square, at which there were memorials to the pioneers, Wesley Montgomery, Laura Hutchinson, on down to Peter Reginald Barrows and Anna Sokolovska, and Elizabeth McClintock. There was a little alcove for Benjamin Warren, too.

Helen stood with Megan at the plate dedicated to Megan's father and mother. It was the first time Helen realized that Pete Barrows was black. The picture of Megan's parents showed an enormous tall, handsome black man with black curly hair. Next to him stood a mountain of a woman, with piercing grey eyes, a long, swan-like neck, platinum-blonde hair, and a cool smile. Megan was a perfect merging of the two, her smile more like her father, her build more like her mother, except for her head and neck, and her eyes.

"Is it your Mama?" Athene asked, pointing, her voice curling up at the end in that very endearing way she had.

"Yes, and my Dad," Megan said quietly.

The girls turned to Helen and asked whether _they_ had a Dad. Helen rolled her eyes, but faced the question head on.

"No, you don't have a Daddy, Diane and Athene. You have two mommies. You haven't seen your other mommy yet, that's all. And you will. I promise."

This was crazy! Two-year olds shouldn't be concerned about things like this. Once again, Helen felt that sense of unreality, as if time was going berserk.

Megan looked at her, her look of apology turning to a more inscrutable expression. Helen looked away. Megan was either incapable of understanding the world from any but a heterosexual point of view; no other point of view existed for her, or she must think Helen was playing with the heads of the children. Helen couldn't possibly mean what she was saying.

# Year 77: Cutter Gamma arrives

For almost a month, the crew of Cutter Alpha had waited for the others to arrive. At first they could hardly concentrate on their work. Then they resumed work with a vengeance, not talking about the imminent arrival. Just as they had managed to forget that the crew was coming, it became possible to establish contact with them as they rounded the planet and approached orbit overhead.

The reactor had achieved peak output level, and they had made enormous leaps in technology. As soon as they could, they manufactured mining equipment, and once the mining was semi-automated, they made the multi-purpose parts that could be assembled into a variety of things, from buildings, to furniture, to equipment. There were now two simple battery-operated rovers, on which they could roam the area around the base.

Chisako was also a biologist, and she wanted to proceed to the next stage as soon as possible, namely to make a habitable biosphere. All day, and partly through the night, she set up all that she needed in the small greenhouse on the cutter.

"What's this stuff?" Kevin asked one night. He wasn't really interested, he only wanted to get her into bed.

"It's a very efficient converter of CO2 into Oxygen. It is a weed, and a nuisance in certain countries, on Earth."

"And this?"

"It's algae. It's written on the label, Kevin."

"And this?"

Chisako sighed.

They were initially all crowded in the cabin of the Cutter when the second Cutter was approaching. They had leveled the area as much as they could, and cleared it of the kind of small rocks that caused problems for the landing-gear. The boys had set four beacons at measured points in a square, and got inside the cutter to wait. Presently there was a light in the dark sky, and everyone gasped. As it came close, it was easy to see that this was a dramatically different design. It slowed rapidly, and they marveled at the piloting. Somehow, they all ended up grabbing their helmets and rushing outside. The newcomers touched down right on target.

The crew of _Gamma_ opened the hatch and climbed out. Melanie remembered when she had first set foot on solid ground, and watched with mixed feelings as the _Gamma_ crew climbed down. Five of them got out, leaving the fifth inside, Mishagawa, it turned out.

It was the strangest feeling, to see these strange creatures, members of their own species, but suited a little differently, flying a different-looking craft, reaching out their hands in that well-known gesture of greeting.

"Commander Arnaud, I presume?" said a voice in Melanie's ears, as she hunted for words to say.

"Welcome to Alpha Base," Melanie replied.

"Captain Shaun Bullock," came the reply. "This is David Tierney, Jake Pittenger . . ."

It was almost an hour later that Bullock and his mates were persuaded to step into the Alpha for a welcoming meal. "Your stores will be welcome . . ."

"You guys have no idea how much stuff we have smuggled in, beyond the actual manifest," began Bullock. He was the most talkative of them.

". . . but we have a few tricks that you might not expect," said Alan, smiling at Melanie. "We've done very well over the last few months, in spite of our difficulties!" He led the way into the galley, where a meal was ready.

The _Gamma_ crew were surprised. The four guys had, in spite of having had a longer voyage, obviously very little culinary skill. Melanie and Chisako had put together a feast, of reconstituted bread, mushrooms and cheese, and something very like Soy sauce. They laughed at the voracious appetites of the young men, as they watched them eat. The Alpha crew ate ration bars; they had used their special rations for the visitors.

Bill Pittenger was very emotional. He had to be sedated, and Chisako talked to him until he was relatively calm.

"What's wrong with you space cowboys? Can't take a little pressure, huh?" sneered Kevin, shocking Melanie. Michael was furious at his brother, and swung at him. Melanie had to break it up. Shaun looked at Melanie and asked in a sarcastic voice whether she had difficulty with discipline. Melanie simply looked at him coolly, and suggested that they begin battening down the _Gamma_ for an extended stay. "What do you mean, battening down?"

Melanie shrugged. "It's a good idea to lash the Cutter down," she said. "They tend to slide."

## Bubble

The first few days were wonderful. There was an enormous amount of cargo strapped to the Cutter, all well-chosen and produced. Everyone settled down to working hard together. The eighteen of them somehow were enough to be comfortable moving out to the quarters they had built on the surface. The first thing they did was to set up the biosphere, a large sphere, half in, half out of the ground. A large crater was excavated to a depth of fifty feet, and an enormous fabric balloon placed in position. Several airlocks were fitted to it, and once it was tight, the excavated 'dirt' was placed on the bottom of it, and compressed air was pumped in, just enough to raise the fabric dome a few feet. Now it would be left for a time, to allow the planet's native soil to come into equilibrium with the air. No one expected anything strange to happen, but in principle it was possible that the air would be polluted by something in the soil.

Meanwhile, the several buildings they had put up were being efficiently used as factories, mines, and so on, where the rocks and various ores were converted into glass, steel, and a kind of brick that was perfectly serviceable as a construction material. More water was found, as well as some odd kinds of salts from which Nitrogen could be extracted.

Gradually, it became obvious that it had been a mistake to send just six men. They were all lusty fellows in the prime of their youth, and it became impossible for the girls, especially Melanie and Chisako, to refuse their pleading. To Alan's frustration, Melanie began to occasionally accommodate Shawn Bullock.

"You don't _have_ to do it," Alan said one night. (He had Melanie to himself at night; Shawn came to Melanie in the afternoon, usually.)

"I _know_ I don't. I'm not doing it because I have to. I don't do it with you because I have to either."

Alan was silent. Melanie had her face averted, and she wondered what was going through his mind. He couldn't possibly think she loved him. She was always tender with him, and loving, but he had to realize it was just a kindness.

"I thought I was different," he said at last. Melanie sighed. No good would come of telling Alan how it really was.

"Of course you are," she said softly, stroking his arm. He fitted himself to her, and they could almost imagine that this pretense of theirs was the real thing.

Gradually, the bubble filled with air. It seemed that Earth plants could use this sun to extract Oxygen just as well as they could use the light of Sol, or the artificial light of the Ship. Melanie could stand and look at the plants for hours; it was magical. It was incredibly unlike the Ship, to be able to walk on convex ground, out of sight of anyone, all alone with nothing between you and the openness of Space, and the little twinkling stars. The others did not like it; Melanie wondered if she would have loved it so much if not for having known Helen.

"I would go out," Helen would say, "on summer nights, out to this little rise. It was a little hollow on the top of a hill. I would take off all my clothes . . . and lie there, staring at the stars. There was nothing between the stars and my skin . . . it was as if they were blessing me . . . touching me . . ."

Melanie had asked whether she was missed at home. Yes, she was; but they knew what she was doing, and they didn't care. Her dog was close by; she'd leave Helen alone, but wouldn't allow harm to come to her. Did it get too cold, out unprotected in the open? Yes, and she'd have to go in eventually. But she could get plenty cold for a feeling like that!

Helen spoke of it often, and with deep, unalloyed pleasure.

"Are you unhappy on the ship?" Melanie had asked, very gently. "You can tell me; I'd understand."

Helen had thought long about that, and then looked into Melanie's eyes, and put her arms round her. It seemed to Melanie that she seemed to say: yes, I'm unhappy here, but you make it bearable. Melanie knew that one thing which made Helen sad was that even in the ship, in space, so close to her beloved stars in some ways, it seemed so unusual to spend too much time looking out of the ship. It was almost as if it had been left to the Astronomers, and ordinary folks pretended that they were not on a ship at all.

They worked hard. There were no managers and workers; they all put in their share of labor. The eighteen of them did the mining, the manufacturing, the hauling around, the construction, the cooking, and the cleaning. None of them worked harder than Shaun, who worked like a maniac. While Melanie was an ideas-person, and was encouraged to be more involved with planning and designing, Shawn was a pilot, and once they had landed, a laborer.

Every afternoon, after lunch, he would come looking for Melanie. At first she had rebuffed him, but he had won her over with sheer labor. Once she had consented to accommodate him in a minor way, he pressed her harder and harder, until she began to resent it. They had fought like cats, but she had finally given in, and he had his way.

"You're in charge of the mission," everyone reminded her. "You should never have let him touch you!" They had conveniently forgotten that it was none of their business. "Tell him _no_ , and don't let him come near you again!"

Melanie had only shrugged. They didn't understand how it was. The two of them had soon become dependent on each other. Chisako felt betrayed the most, Melanie knew, though Alan showed his hurt more than Chisako did. Chisako simply told her one day, and Melanie talked it over with her, and they settled into a somewhat different relationship. They were still best friends, still more concerned about each other than with any of the rest of the crew, and each of them would rather be with the other than with anyone else. But something had changed, and there was nothing to be done.

The men despised Melanie for letting Shaun throw her around. But one day Shaun had spoken up against Spencer, and Mimi had been hurt. Mimi and Melanie often took Spencer's side against the rest of the group, because Spencer was the butt of all their jokes, young, artless and innocent. Shaun, in particular, seemed to despise Spencer.

That time, Shaun had complained that Spencer slept late on Sunday. Shaun had drawn kitchen duty, and he couldn't finish off and go play because Spencer hadn't eaten.

"Just leave it," Melanie said, a little annoyed, "I'll wash up."

"No, that's wrong. He should get up early."

"Jeeze, it's Sunday! What a big fuss over a little thing!"

"It pisses me off, the way you coddle him!"

"You'll just have to deal with it. He has until noon to get up."

Shaun had begun to swear, and then stalked off, leaving Melanie and the others looking after him.

## Making Faces

The children were playing a game of making faces with Megan. Helen watched them, her face wreathed in smiles. Athene was making the most amazing grimaces, while Diane watched, trying hard to get her face to do something scary. Athene was really blossoming on this trip, Helen thought to herself.

That night, the younger adults in that area told Helen that there was one way to sleep out in the open.

"How? Nobody ever sleeps outdoors!"

"Come on, we'll show you," they said, and led Helen and the others up some stairs, until they arrived at the top of the building.

"A flat roof! Oh, of course! This is so perfect!"

There was a large fan, and a long line of about twenty bed-sized platforms, obviously intended for sleeping on. The fan made it possible to sleep in the 60-degree nights. Helen nodded, not quite realizing this was not going to be like sleeping outdoors on Earth. In the haze of the late evening, they could only see about a quarter of the way round the cylinder, as if they were in a weird valley, with a long cylindrical sun hanging across the green sky, but Helen wasn't looking up. She was in a strange nostalgic mood, and the people around her had her distracted.

Back downstairs in the big lounge they sat round talking for a while, until Helen's phone rang. It was from Lena.

"You didn't call! Where are you?"

"We've just had dinner," Helen said. "How're you doing, love?"

Lena made a sound like a snort. She didn't deign to answer, and Helen smiled to herself ruefully. She wished she could see Lena's face.

"It's Thursday. If you told her, Grandma would send us to meet you over there, and it would be so fun! Why do we have to be stuck here?"

Helen sighed. "Because it's such a complicated trip, and I . . ."

"Well, why don't you ask her and see?"

"Lena, already I'm using up . . ."

"Oh, _come on!_ It's not a big deal; I can manage, Marissa can manage! Only Maya needs a little help!"

Helen suddenly realized she was being over-cautious. It wouldn't be such a bad thing for the kids to visit another segment. Perhaps it was this ship tradition of not encouraging people to travel that made things so insular.

"All right; I'll call over and see."

"I'll get her, hang on!"

"Yes, Helen, how are things going?"

"Alison . . . Lena seems to want to bring the children out here . . ."

There was a smile in Alison's voice when she answered. God bless the woman, Helen thought to herself, nothing seemed to ever throw her off balance. "I think we can manage that. Could you meet us at the elevator?"

"Oh, yes! When will you come by?"

"Tomorrow, around four? Perhaps we could have a little picnic meal somewhere before we return!"

"That sounds lovely," Helen agreed. "Who else will you bring?"

"I'll see who's free," said Alison.

Helen hoped it would not be Daisy. She could not tell exactly why, but she guessed that seeing Daisy out in Tropical would disturb her presence of mind. She was on an emotional roller-coaster (talk about things she hadn't thought of in a long, long while!) and she was very nervous about how she would be perceived by the folks she was with. It was some kind of educational institute, and when she met everybody on Monday, she wanted to make a good impression. What would they think of her? She did not want to be labeled an entertainer, and an intellectual lightweight, but obviously Daisy didn't have anything to do with that . . .

After supper, everyone hauled up a bag of bedclothes, and staked out their beds. The children were given a pad on the floor, for fear they would roll off the low platforms. Somehow Helen and Megan found themselves sharing a bed. Megan apologized profusely, but she admitted that she wanted to keep a close eye on Helen. "I just need very little space," she said, noting Helen's reticence. She had shared beds with women scores of times, and there was never a problem before.

After Helen had got over her skittishness, and the little ones were fast asleep, Helen and Megan lay side by side, staring at the dark sky. The Sunlight was completely gone; Tropical was allowed to cool completely down at night. As the shadows intensified, Helen began to realize that this experience would not be like Earth at all. All they would see was not stars, but rather the night lights of homes and offices across the way on the other side of the segment. It was heartbreaking. Helen did not realize how much she had looked forward to this. There would be no starlight. There would be no moon. There was only the Ship.

"What's the matter?" Megan asked, softly.

Helen let the misery ebb away a little. She sighed. She became aware of Megan close to her, her body heat literally making her arm uncomfortably warm. There were several inches between them, and they had been given the place of honor near the fan. But . . .

"I miss my home," Helen whispered.

Megan made a sound of soft sympathy. She heaved herself onto her side. Helen felt warmer still. She dared not turn round to look at Megan, wearing a clingy nightgown, her large breasts full and hard and so near. She felt Megan's knee accidentally touch her thigh, and she shrank away before she could stop herself. Megan pulled away smoothly, but Helen knew she had been hurt. Helen hurt her in little ways, and she could never apologize, because it made things worse.

"Tell me about it," Megan asked, simply.

Helen had begun, feeling awkward at first, conscious of their closeness, and the fact that Megan understood little or nothing about how Helen felt. She still seemed to think that all Helen needed was a good man, if not in quite those words. The fierce attraction Helen had first felt for Megan was now dulled to merely an annoying throb, something she was gradually getting accustomed to. Being in bed together was not quite a new experience, after all they had slept near each other at the Dropout camp, Camp Krishna; still Helen was proud of herself at how well she was handling it. Still, she was acutely conscious of Megan near her.

But as she talked, she gradually became lulled by the simple friendliness of Megan, her interest in Helen and her thoughts, her unsentimental sympathy. Megan was an excellent listener, and Helen poured her heart out to her, as much of it as she could without revealing anything of the more intimate details of her personal life.

"You don't miss it, I know, since you've never had it," she said, "but I know you would have love it! You would have loved our farm."

"My Dad grew up visiting his grandfather's farm, he told me."

Helen took a deep breath and let it out. "I wish I had met your father," she said, "he sounds really interesting!"

"Oh, he was. Everyone loved him. People are good to me because of him."

"Don't you deserve to be liked in your own right?"

Helen felt, more than saw, Megan's quiet smile. "I guess," she said, sounding pleased at the compliment. "Feeling better?"

"Yes . . . Thanks for being there for me, Megan."

"Anytime!" came the soft reply.

The strong fan really worked. Only the stirring of their companions woke Helen. She felt dried out, ravenously thirsty. Next to her, Megan was snoring softly, and as Helen came awake, she heard the snoring stop.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," she said, squeezing Megan's big arm, trying not to look too hard at her breast through the thin clothing.

"I'm up," Megan said, eyes still closed. Helen got her blush under control. Everyone around was ignoring them, letting the guests get up at their own pace. Megan yawned, arching her massive trunk, thrusting her breasts up and stretching like a lioness. "Were you comfortable last night?" she asked Helen, turning to face her. "Andy says I'm like a furnace!"

"You are, a bit," Helen laughed. She finally turned her eyes to meet Megan's, which were smiling down at her.

Megan smiled at her a long time, until Helen almost stopped breathing.

"You know, I'm having a great time," Megan said at last.

"I'm glad," Helen whispered.

Megan leaped out of bed and stood, stretching again, like a beautiful statue. Then she came round to kneel near the children, and began to gently wake them.

The morning passed uneventfully. The high school was one of the largest Helen had visited. It was the only high school for the segment, a large two-story affair, with students of many ethnicities. Helen met many interesting students, including a large number of Hispanic descent, as well as Asians—she identified a few Thai, Indonesian, Filipino, Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese and Japanese.

There were also some Swedes, and Helen told them that her mother was half Swedish. "Her mother was Finnish, and I know very little about that people," she admitted. "She died before I was old enough to be interested."

"There are a few Finns over in Temperate," said one young man. "You should look them up!"

"I want to meet everybody sooner or later," Helen said.

"You are a very outgoing person?" asked the young man, who seemed to be a spokesman for his group. "Nobody on the ship knows everybody; you'd think they would, wouldn't you?"

Helen laughed. "That always surprises me," she admitted. "No, I'm not outgoing, really. I'm just very inquisitive!" They joined in her laughter.

This was one place where Helen noticed the improvement in the morale very clearly. She felt an almost tangible lightening of the mood as soon as she had been introduced, and as she taught a group of volunteers. There was great interest in music, even though not everyone was comfortable actually joining in. Most of all, they were full of questions about Earth, what the various countries and the various major cities were like. Were there important differences? Did the various peoples have distinctive characteristics? Were the Americans an arrogant bunch?

There was no shortage of young folks willing to entertain the little girls. The students formed their own conclusions about their parentage, and Helen could see speculation running rampant. But it was none of their business, and she could not settle the issue simply and easily, so she let it go.

## A Weekend in Tropical

Megan caught Helen's attention around four, and asked her what she wanted to do. Would she like to head out to the elevator, or would she keep the children, while Megan went out?

"How far is it?" Helen asked in alarm, checking the time.

"Three miles. About half an hour."

"Let's go," Helen said, and began putting on her harness to carry little Diane. Shortly afterwards, they were heading out to the Elevator at a fair clip. It was a direct path, and mostly clear, though they did pass a few travelers who studied them curiously. Once they settled down to a good rhythm, they found that they could make good time. The little ones were quiet, except for an occasional remark to one another. Before she knew it, they were approaching the noise of the market, and then they were at the Elevator doors, and Alison was there, and Lena had spotted them, and was pointing. And with them were Daisy, Ben, and Summer.

Helen picked up little Maya who had her arms stretched out to Helen, her eyes full of such joy that Helen was amazed. It was humbling to feel the child's love; still, now that her mother was away, all she had was Helen, her sister, and the new baby to call a family.

Marissa waited, smiling patiently, until Helen noticed her. Gently setting Maya down, Helen put her arms round Marissa and gave her a hug. A large tear rolled down her smiling face, and Helen kissed it away.

Lena couldn't wait any longer; she gave Helen a huge hug. The feel of those thin arms around her neck was like the feel of home. Helen next gave Ben a quick hug, which he returned with a grin, before slipping back to make room for the others. Then there was Summer and Daisy, and Alison.

"You look glowing and happy," Alison said, as Daisy smiled and smiled. Summer and Lena were already looking around, taking in the sights, sounds and smells. Seeing them all here, in this place that seemed so far from home made Helen feel strangely happy.

Suddenly Helen felt dizzy, and Megan reached out a long arm and steadied her.

"Have you eaten anything since lunch?" Daisy asked at once.

Megan shook her head before Helen could answer. "We walked from the other end of the segment. I forgot about the blood-sugar business," Megan admitted.

Helen felt the dizziness increase. She fumbled futilely at her pack. Megan pulled out something and handed it to Helen, asking her to put it in her mouth. It felt sweet, and when Helen next noticed her surroundings, she was feeling a lot better. Megan, though, was looking a little pale, and Daisy was looking positively angry, her lips tight. If there had been an exchange between them, Helen had blanked it out.

Alison took charge smoothly. They found themselves going slowly through the market, the children staring at everything in fascination, especially at the school kids trading like crazy.

"Just look, right now," Helen warned them, "there will be time to do some trading later on."

"Ooh, can we?" asked Summer.

Somehow, they got the children away from the market, and Alison led the way to a clearing in which there were a couple of picnic tables, sheltered by a curtain of trees. Another group was at the other table, loudly having a party. They took the further table, and soon there was a nice home-cooked picnic meal spread out. If there was any annoyance left in Daisy's mind, it was reserved for Megan. She fussed over Helen so much it was overwhelming. The food was excellent, if a little bland, and Helen ate heartily. The little girls were thoroughly fussed over by the other young people, especially Marissa, who thought they were the most wonderful things, and by Summer, who seemed to be discovering a mothering instinct that had lain dormant up until now.

The other party wound up, and after they had studied Helen and her group with mild curiosity, went away. The children, finding the clearing all to themselves, began to run around, delighted to be able to play in the open. Temperate was kept very cold indeed, now, and even the 70° temperature out here was pure joy. Helen was all smiles, watching the children interact with each other, easily slipping into the comfortable relationship with each other that Helen had hoped they would find, even if she had no right to expect it. Lena was a wonderful influence on them all, and Marissa played the role of the older sister with a grace beyond her seven years. Helen was thinking how much like her mother she was.

"You enjoy them a lot, don't you!" Megan observed.

Helen nodded, flushing at the knowledge that Megan had been watching her. She glanced at Daisy and noticed that her smile was a little stiff. Helen sighed silently. There would be never a comfortable relationship between her and Daisy, only jealousy, awkwardness, and frustrated desire. With Megan, at least she had a friend who had no expectations whatsoever. All Helen could do was to wait the evening out. She nodded an answer to Megan's quiet remark, and turned back to watch the children.

Unexpectedly, Alison asked Megan to accompany her, and they walked off to the edge of the clearing, leaving Helen and Daisy alone. Daisy walked close to Helen, in her graceful, unhurried way. How she seemed to glide, almost flowing along! Every time Helen looked, there was some new aspect of Daisy that she noticed. She was a Pandora's Box of beauty, a horn of plenty.

"What's Megan like?" Daisy asked softly.

"She's really sweet," Helen said, her face heating up. "Please, don't be upset at her; she isn't—like that."

Daisy nodded. "I can tell she isn't."

"She doesn't know," Helen said softly, her heart thudding. "Don't give her any cause to suspect."

"Is it hard?" Daisy asked, equally quietly.

Helen let her breath out in a sigh. "How can it be helped? They can hardly send me out with a boy, after all." Daisy nodded. "In a way, this is easier on me. I . . . pretend I'm just—you know?—a normal person."

"You _are_ a normal person," Daisy said, putting her arm round Helen and hugging her. It was the first time Daisy had done such a thing.

"Don't do that, Daisy, love," Helen said softly. Daisy's arm fell away, infinitely reluctantly. She moved away just an inch, and Helen felt utterly miserable.

Something hit her in the back, and Helen turned to find Athene grinning at her. The little girl had run over and butted her! Seconds later, Diane did the same thing. Helen hugged them, and a moment later they were off again, running like rockets.

"They've got wonderful balance, for being just two," Daisy said.

Helen frowned, watching the twins. The thought that they had been tampered with was a constant fear in her mind.

"They talk like three-year-olds, or even older," Helen said, though she really didn't know enough to be able to judge such things. "They certainly talk as well as Maya, and she's four."

"All the more reason you should spend every second with them that you can," Daisy replied. Helen nodded. It was good to have friends like Daisy at her back.

Alison and Daisy were firm; they were going back with Ben and Summer. If Helen needed help with the children, she should call. Helen said she would manage. At the Elevator, Helen bade farewell to them for the weekend. Daisy was the last to embrace her, and she kissed Helen tenderly on the cheek. Just as they pulled apart, she whispered to Helen, "Look after yourself for me!" Before Helen could reply, she had stepped back to join Summer and Alison. Ben was already waiting at the elevator doors, looking tired. Helen waved, and they turned towards the elevator.

Summer and Ben had been allowed to do a tiny bit of shopping since they had to leave, and there had been no time to show them what Helen had bought for them. In spite of how tired they were, the other children walked the three miles to where Helen and Megan were staying at the community center of the school complex. The last mile or so, Lena carried Maya on her shoulders, while Marissa hung onto Helen with one arm, and Megan with the other.

The weekend was spent showing the children round the interesting parts of the segment, introducing them to some of the young folks near the school, trading at the market, visiting a fabric mill and a farm, and the Dropout camp. Lena and Helen gave a recital on Saturday evening, and afterwards, they went to the Dropout camp for the night.

Lena was exhausted, and slept late the next morning. Sunday was a quiet day. This camp was inhabited by a majority of very religious folks, who had various religious observances to which Helen and Megan were invited with the children. Unwilling to disappoint one group over another, Helen held back at first, but when Megan said she would like to join a particular group, Helen said she and the children would come along.

It was a Catholic mass, since Megan's mother had been catholic, and this was the closest thing to what they had observed in her family when Megan's mother had been alive.

Helen watched and listened, mystified and fascinated by the mass. In the back of her mind she knew the structure of the liturgy, and she could identify various parts of it as they went along, but it was her very first Catholic Mass, and she found that it was a new experience.

There was no music at all, though certain parts of it were sung. Helen wondered whether it would have been more pleasant with music—of course it would, she thought to herself. Lena was fascinated. Daisy had been a member of a fundamentalist church, but had fallen off the straight and narrow since Helen had known her. Lena remembered the experiences in church from her younger days, and afterwards there were lots of questions from her. The younger children took it all as one more strange experience in the strange world they were in. Megan was, for several hours, if possible even more serene than usual.

"I said a prayer for you," she confided a little shyly later in the day. It was interesting how she phrased it: I _said_ a prayer, rather than _I prayed for you._ In a way it was less threatening. Helen remembered the little old ladies of her town, how they tended to pray for her. It was always a little scary.

Helen bit back a retort and thanked Megan. In Megan's mind, Helen knew, Helen was a tortured soul, and Helen accepted humbly whatever truth there was in the assessment. "God couldn't possibly help me more than he has already," Helen said.

"Why do you say that?"

"Look at me!" Helen indicated the children and Megan herself. A slow smile spread over Megan's face. Helen had paid her a high compliment indeed.

Late on Sunday, Helen and Megan took the children up to the elevator, where they were met by Alison, Summer, and to their surprise, Andy. The light in Megan's eyes was clear to all, though their behavior was the epitome of composed serenity. Andy only reached out a large hand round his wife to squeeze her.

"You're not going to kiss her?" Lena asked, with a big grin. "Oh, go on!" Andy simply smiled his lopsided smile and grinned at his wife. Megan raised her eyebrow at Lena. Those two were getting quite friendly, but there was a playful pretended antagonism between them when in company with others. It was part of Megan's odd sense of humor that Lena had picked up on.

Maya was almost asleep already. Alison picked her up like a sack of potatoes, and Andy picked up Marissa, in spite of her protestations. Farewells were said, and the elevator doors closed on them.

Helen turned to Megan, and was aware of the tears filling her eyes. The children were perfectly safe with Alison and Daisy; it was just that Helen missed them. The little girls were wonderful company, and so was Megan. But Lena filled a need in Helen's heart that no one could fill, and now Marissa and Maya were the same; even now Helen could almost feel Marissa in her arms, the precise weight of her, the smell of her, and the sound of her quiet voice.

A couple of hours later, they were once again on the roof, looking at the lights above them, several hundred people trying to fall asleep, hanging upside-down two miles away. The lights did not twinkle; they shone, steady points, barely visible, some of them, others very bright.

## Melanie and Shaun

"Why do you do this?" Alan asked.

He and Melanie were on a sleeping-bag, in the bubble, staring at the night sky through the plastic. The plastic was clear, but not _that_ clear; it was several layers thick, with layers of gas between them, and they let through only a fraction of the light that hit the outermost layer. But somewhere in Melanie's mind, Helen's words had sparked her imagination, and the poetry of Helen's words had infected her.

"Somewhere, up there, The Ship is approaching," Melanie said. They were the only words she knew Alan would understand.

"And Chelsea, and Gary," he said, slowly.

"I know you miss them," Melanie whispered, stroking his chest. She had come to understand him so well that it scared her. He was a sweet, simple fellow, with a sentimental, sometimes poetic sensibility. The inability to appreciate the night sky was his one blind spot; he was too much of an astronomer to see the beauty in stars. He knew them all, and they were only of intellectual interest. She spoke of Chelsea, but in her heart she was thinking of Helen; in a few short months, she would be in Helen's arms again!

Alan was silent a long time.

"I wish I miss them more," he said, and sounded broken hearted.

"What are you saying?" Melanie demanded.

"You should know."

Melanie's heart began to sing, and a moment later turned to lead.

"Alan . . ."

"I love you. I don't know when it happened, but it has!"

"Alan, we . . . we knew things like this would happen on this trip. But you must get ready to join them again. If it will help . . . we can sleep separately again."

" _No!"_ Melanie bit her tongue. Alan was almost insanely jealous of Shaun. "You know you don't really like him!"

"I wasn't even thinking of him, I was thinking of _you!"_

They began to kiss and make love, as if it was their last night together. Afterwards he held her tight, breathing with difficulty.

"I will go back to them . . . but I will love you forever!"

Melanie softly stroked his hair back from his forehead.

"What will happen to you? I have Chelsea, but you?"

"I used to have someone," Melanie said, her throat tight. She had dreaded this moment, but when Alan had never asked her these kinds of questions for several weeks, and then months, she had begun to believe that they would never come. But now, when she was half in love with him, and he was totally in love with her, it was impossible to lie. "Don't worry about me!"

"You can tell me," Alan said, persistent. "I want to know everything about you! I want to fill myself with you, be saturated with you, so that when the time comes . . ."

"Alan, it will be even harder, if you knew everything about me! At least now, we're sort of strangers, and . . ."

"Is it someone I know?"

The time had come, and Melanie could not lie.

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"Helen Nord . . ."

Alan gasped. "You've got to be kidding!"

". . . strom. Why?"

Alan had his arms round her, and he seemed, if anything, even more tender than ever.

"Why—why a _woman?_ _"_

"Because . . . we love each other!" Melanie said, flushing in the dark. "I love her like crazy, Alan . . . I didn't want you to know, I didn't want to hurt you!"

Alan was quiet a long time. He was very surprised, and quizzed Melanie at length about the relationship. Finally he conceded that it was possible; perhaps they were in love, and perhaps it did make sense. Melanie felt angry, but to give him credit, he had accepted it in his own way. In a sense it was easier on him, because he could not imagine that Helen Nordstrom was a serious rival for him in Melanie's affections. What was he planning: to continue to see her after the ship got here? Alan had not been that kind of person, but Melanie began to get worried about what the future held for her.

As it happened, the future held some pretty vicious things in store. The approach of the ship, some months in the future though it was, seemed to put tremendous pressure on Shaun Bullock. His demands on Melanie became more insistent, more painful, more exhausting.

"I'm not enjoying this at all!" Melanie said one afternoon, after Shaun had been particularly odious in his attentions. He had been rough with her, and she was sore everywhere. "Do _you_ enjoy seeing me hurting?"

"Oh, quit your goddam complaining! It's all sex, it's all the same! Why don't you grow up and learn to enjoy things that everybody does?"

Melanie cleaned up and began to put her clothes on. "I was having sex when you were still in school, Shaun. Don't think you've taught me all I know about sex. Don't think I let you fuck me because I'm afraid of you. Don't think you're the greatest lover in the universe. _You_ grow up! No girl would take this treatment from any guy, least of all you!"

Shaun was livid. He got up and aimed a slap at her. She danced out of his reach. Awkward in the nude, he was furious. He picked up a strap that lay on the ground, and held it as if to whip her. He began to swear at her, so red in the face that she was afraid he would have a fit. She calmly walked out of the room, and headed for the safety of company.

She thought she had dealt with the situation, until a week later, they all noticed young Spencer looking green. Shaun was sullen and non-communicative, but Spencer seemed on the brink of tears all the time. Then somebody saw Shaun drag Spencer off to a remote part of the complex, and followed.

Chisako shook her head. "When he finally let Jim look at him, there were bruises in his rectum. The kid has been in pain for days."

Melanie was deeply upset.

"Why does he _do_ it?"

"Maybe he's a sadist, I don't know! Some kind of perversion!"

Melanie shook her head. "I didn't get that impression," she said slowly.

After lunch, before Shaun could find Spencer and victimize him, Melanie cornered Shaun. That worthy looked startled.

"Leave me alone," said Shaun. "We have nothing to say to each other."

"You win," Melanie said. "You're hurting Spencer to get back at me, right?"

"No!" Melanie was surprised. Then he seemed to sag. "I don't want to do it, but . . . something seems to take control of me . . ."

Melanie felt sorry for him. He wasn't a villain, she knew; he either liked—or needed—rough sex. And she was shocked to realize, she almost _wanted_ him to be rough with her.

"You can have me, if you leave him alone. _Until_ the ship gets here!"

He was astounded.

"You mean that?" She nodded. "Like right now?" She nodded. A sly look came into his eyes. "This isn't a trap?" She shook her head. "Why?"

"Because he's just a kid, and . . . I feel sorry for you."

"Lie down," he instructed.

After a week or two, Melanie was used to it. In fact, she was beginning to like it. The bonding between them was almost frightening in its intensity; and Alan was so upset that Melanie and Alan stopped seeing each other, and she was entirely Shaun's—until the ship should arrive. During the day, everything was fine; it was only at night that they shared the horror that neither of them wanted to give up.

## The Finns and Sheila

Helen finally met the Finns. There had been just one large family, two brothers, their wives, and their children. The original four had passed away, and now there were five couples, all cousins, having married each other and a few outsiders.

They lived quietly in a remote part of Temperate, in a little enclave. They were all computer technicians, programmers, database systems managers, and so forth. When Helen and Megan found where they lived and greeted them, they welcomed her politely, looking puzzled. What did this obviously Scandinavian woman want with them? Megan they knew, and greeted cordially. Helen was wearing her glasses, and looked a lot less glamorous than the public images of her that they might have seen.

"I'm excited to meet you, because I happen to be one quarter Finnish, and I've always wanted to meet people from Finland! Hi, I'm Helen Nordstrom!"

A murmur rose up from them, especially from the women, all of whom were quite pretty and interested.

"The music professor?"

"Yes! May I know your names, please?"

They introduced themselves. It was a Thursday afternoon, and they were just beginning to think about lunch. Their lifestyle was quite laid-back, and apparently Thursday was a day on which their plans were very flexible.

"What was your mother's Finnish family name?" they asked, politely. Helen swallowed; it had been a long time, and she was not certain whether she remembered it correctly. It was her mother's mother's maiden name. "Kuikkonen," she said awkwardly.

"Kuikkonen! Yes, of course, that is a Finnish name! It is a common one," said the woman who had appointed herself as Helen's guide and hostess. Her own name was Heikki, and she was truly pretty. She had softly waving blonde hair, and brilliant blue eyes, and deep dimples, and two little children who looked exactly like her. Diane and Athene were being entertained by some of the older children, of the seven who belonged to the family, four boys and three girls.

While Helen told Heikki the details of her ancestry, Megan sat a little distance away, watching the children with one eye, and Helen with the other. Over the month or so she had been with Helen, she had learned very accurately the times at which Helen needed to take her medication, and her meals. It was getting very close to mealtime. Five minutes past the time at which Megan judged Helen should have a little something to eat, she approached the table at which Helen was seated, and silently held out the sugar pill with a smile.

"What is that?" Heikki wanted to know.

"Oh!" Helen blushed, throwing a reproving glance at Megan. "It's just that . . . I'm supposed to eat a snack at this time. Anything, or . . ." she took the pill out of Megan's palm. Megan could feel Helen's fingers trembling. It was just in time, she thought. "Or I could just eat a sugar pill—that's what this is."

"Oh, hypoglycemia?"

"Exactly. Diabetes medication."

"Do you take insulin?"

"No, nothing like that. Just sugar-control pills."

Heikki nodded. "I'll get you a glass of juice," she said, hurrying off. She glanced at Megan and smiled. "She's lucky to have you along!" she said, as she turned the corner.

"How do you like them, so far?" Megan asked.

"Oh, I love them," Helen said quickly. "They're very different, and very interesting!" Helen looked quizzically at Megan. "How did _you_ know them?"

"I know everyone above the age of 21," Megan said with a smile, and Helen nodded. She had forgotten that aspect of Megan's occupation.

The orange juice arrived a few seconds later, after which Megan wandered off to explore. She was beginning to learn the possible sources of trouble, so that she knew when to be alert, and when to relax.

Heikki and Helen hit it off beautifully. They were kindred spirits, with lots of interests in common, as well as lots of attitudes. Heikki was quite willing to teach Helen a few words of Finnish, to start her in that language. Unlike most ship folk, the Finns were current on everything that was going on, including the mission. They knew the names of all the crew, as well as the schedule for each important event for the next several months.

"They've put up a bubble," Heikki's husband Jaakko informed Helen. "It's a small biosphere—you know what that is? Yes! And they made sure there was no immediate reaction between the Earth plants and the local dirt, you know? Then they filled it up with Oxygen that the plants generate from CO2, and . . ."

"And water? Where did they get water?"

"It was brilliant; they took several thousand gallons with them in the rig that they towed out, you know? It was sort of strapped on to the cutter, with . . ."

Helen knew about the rig, what she hadn't known was that some of the space was occupied by water. She listened impatiently to his description, nodding intermittently. It was amazing to think that _her_ Melanie was supervising all this! Finally she interrupted to ask him to continue with the latest news.

"Well, they've done it! It's about a square mile now, the bubble and the little industrial section." The little group had gathered, and were all talking about it, a couple of the older children listening attentively.

It took a while for Helen to be completely accepted by them. They had been quite friendly from the outset, but as the evening wore on, they really accepted their small group of visitors into their community. Two of the children, in particular, took a liking to Helen, asking her questions, telling her little stories about school, and showing her their little collections of treasures. Helen and Megan exchanged looks of surprised gratitude when one of the young ladies presented each of the twins with a personal treasure of her own, two children's books brought from Earth by her grandmother.

"See Mama? A-B-C!" exclaimed Diane, pointing at the open book with one little finger. The giver of the gifts simply beamed at them with pleasure.

That night Helen and the girls stayed with Heikki and her husband, while Megan was hosted by neighbors. Helen wondered how she could plant the idea in the minds of the children that they could give gifts, too. Perhaps they were too young, she thought. At any rate, it should be a spontaneous gesture. Generosity must begin with each other; they hardly had enough things of their own to even think of gifts. Helen determined that she would give them the little trinkets she had acquired at the markets, and give the generous young lady a little memento of their visit.

Accordingly, early in the morning, Helen woke, and began to set out some of the trinkets on her bed. Sure enough, the twins woke up, and came right over to watch. "What's that?" they wanted to know about everything they saw. They were beyond asking for mere names of things; they wanted to know what they were _for._

"That's an _ornament,_ sweetheart."

"What's a . . . _nordament_ _?"_

"Or _-na-_ ment. A decoration for someone to wear. This is to wear on your hair, like this," Helen said, modeling the comb in question. "See? Pretty?"

Diane nodded, and reached out her tiny hand for it, as Athene watched.

"What's that?"

"It's a pencil!" Helen laughed. Pencils had apparently gone out of favor a long time ago. She found a piece of paper with some difficulty—paper was scarce, too. The ship still used stocks brought on board at launch. Everyone used plastic sheeting, horrible stuff that Helen barely tolerated. It was more like the overhead transparencies Helen had seen her teachers use as a kid in school, except that they were opaque. The girls had their own little markers, very much like markers that had been common on Earth, but the ancient pencil—a pretty one, from China—fascinated them. Diane watched Athene hold it in her pudgy little hand and painfully write her name. They knew to write their names. Helen thought back; did she know to write her name when she was two? The whole thing gave her a headache.

## Mad Sheila

Their tour had brought them to a point where Helen was ready to simply go home. As they thanked the Finns for their hospitality and generosity, Helen thought how much she would have missed, if she had not come on this trip. There was an entire school out here, with Scandinavians, Russians, Albanians, all sorts of interesting folk, and Helen had learned their songs, and taught them new ones. They were friendly but reserved, and Helen's previous work had not brought her here, though they were just five miles from where she lived, not far from the Dropouts.

Heikki's embrace was warm and sincere, as were all their farewells. Still, they had yet not given Helen their unqualified trust. That would happen only over time. The first test, Helen knew, was whether she would come back to visit them. It seemed reasonable that _they_ should visit _her._ But she was the one on trial, in a way.

As they slowly headed home, the girls comfortably strapped to the backs of the two women, Helen's mind went back to the strange behavior of the little girls.

"Megan?"

"Yeah."

"You know . . . I've been wondering how . . . present company—you know what I mean—is . . . so much further ahead than other—people—their age," Helen said quietly, though she knew Athene missed little if anything of their conversation.

"Hmm." Megan had to change mental gears. She was moderately intelligent, but she took time to pick up Helen's trend of thought. She finally shrugged. "It's probably in the genes," she said simply.

"No," said Helen firmly. "This goes _way_ beyond heredity. _Way_ beyond."

"You suspect tampering?"

"Mama, what's _tempering?_ "

Helen rolled her eyes. "It's something you do to make knives sharper, darling. Honey, please don't disturb us, okay? I want to talk to Megan for a little while."

"Hmm-hmm."

That was a new one. She seemed to pick up some new expression every day, almost every _hour._ Now Athene seemed to be making up for having been quiet for two years. When she talked, she asked the most amazing questions.

"Megan," Helen started again, frustrated with Athene's inquisitiveness, "what's the name of that woman who started the cloning business?" Helen felt a wave of anger at that word. Though she loved these two children like crazy, there was no doubt that they made her spend a great deal of time every day, puzzling over little things that never bothered a normal mother. "She has a lot to answer for," she muttered under her breath.

"Professor Connors, you mean? Mad Sheila?"

Helen started. "Is she mad?"

Megan grinned. "No, she's perfectly normal. But she's the genius on the ship, you know; the only mad scientist we have! But she's perfectly nice. We know very little about her, actually."

"What do you mean? She's on the ship, isn't she?"

"Yes, but she doesn't talk about her work." Megan shuddered. "I think she's a bit creepy. She talks plenty, but—not about her work."

"I bet she'd know about this growth-hormone thing."

"Sure. She's the one who developed it."

Helen came to a stop and stared at Megan, her feet forgetting what they were doing.

"How do you know?"

Megan blushed. "I listen to a lot of rumors," she confessed. "But I think she's behind it."

Helen shook her head. "I'm angry enough to want to talk to her," she said, seething. "I can't get anywhere without a straight answer from _someone._ "

"Why don't you go right up to her and ask her?" Megan said, starting to walk again. "I believe in the direct approach. Just ask!"

"Just ask? Megan, I have no idea where she lives, or what to ask!"

Megan stopped again, and turned to Helen. "If you want to meet her, we have to go back that way."

"You _know_ where she lives?"

"Sure; I know these things! Who do you think brings them their stuff from storage when they need it?"

"Where does she live?"

"Over in sector five," Megan said.

She was referring to ship zones. Each segment was divided into eight sectors and five bands. The bands went round, and the sectors went lengthwise. Helen lived in sector one, and the elevator was located in sector one as well. The elevator was in band zero, and Helen's apartment was in band three south, while the Finns were in sector five, band two north.

"You mean we were right near where she lives?"

Megan nodded. "I didn't have any idea you wanted to talk to her," she said with a shrug.

Helen turned round determinedly.

"Where are we going, Mama?" asked Athene quickly. She had to know.

"To meet this aunty who has some answers to questions I'm interested in."

"Oh."

It was late afternoon, around five, and Helen was going like a locomotive. It had been a while since she had eaten, and Megan felt around in her belt pouch for a snack. She felt a little tap on her cheek, and she felt a grubby piece of candy pressed into her face. The girl had almost a telepathic knack for reading Megan's mind. Megan squeezed the little hand affectionately. Yes, the kids were a lot more intelligent than was normal for their age.

Sure enough, Helen began to stumble, and began to make a greater effort to keep her balance.

"Here, Athene has something for you," Megan said quietly, passing her the piece of candy.

Helen took the candy, startled. She slowed down. The big green eyes were wide as they looked at Megan. "Did she, really?" she asked, under her breath.

Megan nodded.

"Why did you think of Mama just now, Athene?"

"You're tired," said the child simply. Immediately Diane dug out a snack from her pocket and passed it to Helen. They had both learned that Helen needed snacks intermittently. Then Diane kissed her tenderly on the head. Helen felt bewildered by it all. It _could_ simply mean that they loved her, and were learning by watching Megan. Helen picked up her speed. She _had_ to know.

Sheila lived in a complex along with several other families, in a circularly laid out plan. Each building had two addresses on the twin front doors. Helen knocked on the Connors door.

"Yes?" said a female voice in a distracted tone.

"May I speak with Sheila Connors, please?" Helen head Megan hold her breath. Helen looked across, frowning. Megan's expression was neutral.

The door opened, and a woman looked out. She was very thin, with sleekly braided grey hair pulled back from a domed forehead. Her eyes were a pretty cornflower blue, and Helen wondered whether it was a contact lens. The blue eyes took in the strange scene outside, the two little girls and the two women. She looked at Helen with what appeared to be mild interest.

"You must be Dr. Helen Nordstrom," she said in her blunt way. "Come in. It's a bit late, though."

"Just a few minutes, and I'll be on my way," Helen said quickly. "This is my friend Megan Barrows."

"Oh, I know Lieutenant Barrows," she said, with a quick smile in Megan's direction. Helen's estimate of her rose by leaps. Another woman joined her, evidently curious about the visitors. "Turn around, let me help you get the kids off your backs."

"We can manage, thanks," Helen said, feeling a little annoyed at herself for acting so pettily.

"This is my daughter Yvonne," Sheila said, introducing the young woman. Helen smiled and offered her hand, which the woman took with excellent manners, murmuring a welcome to Helen.

They were led inside, and found themselves in a modest sitting-room, where they were offered seats. Soon a younger girl came out, with drinks on a tray, and a special smile for the two littlest visitors. Diane gave her back a dazzling smile, and Athene followed suit.

"You seem ready to go on a trip," Sheila said, clearing her throat. "Come on, join us," she said in an aside to her children—at least Helen assumed they were her children. The young woman and the girl, dressed demurely in dresses, pulled up chairs and sat. They were identical, except for age. Helen stared at them, trying to observe some hint as to whether either of the children bore some sign of their cloning. But they seemed perfectly normal girls, if a little quiet. "And this is my daughter Jennifer," she said, smiling fondly at the younger of the two children. Jennifer grinned and said Hi. She seemed, if anything, the more relaxed of the two.

"We're just returning from a trip, actually," Helen said, feeling her energy returning as she sipped at the drink. Megan had been looking pointedly at Helen from the moment she had accepted the drink. Even the two little ones were looking at her with eyes wide. Helen laid the drink aside and sighed. "I'm supposed to avoid sugar," she said, lamely.

The look on Sheila's face was one of acute concern.

"How could I have forgotten?" she muttered. "I'm very sorry indeed . . ." She almost snatched the offending glass from Helen's hand, and hurried out followed by the older girl, her robe billowing about her. She was wearing the loose robe that was common in the tropics, called a kaftan. Helen, feeling the sugar humming though her bloodstream, remembered thinking that it might be just a bit too cool for such light clothing. After a while she was back with some unsweetened hot tea, which Helen accepted gratefully. "I knew very well that you were diabetic," she said, taking her seat. "A fascinating ailment, but . . . at any rate, I made sure that, er, _this_ young lady," she said, looking straight at Athene, who shrank slightly back, "wouldn't be bothered by it. It took quite a bit of work, let me tell you, young lady!"

An awkward pause followed, as Sheila, Athene, Helen and Megan all looked at each other, and Sheila's daughters looked at them.

Sheila, to Helen's surprise, seemed quite an ordinary, reasonable person, not the maniac she had expected. She was awkward, and she clearly did not seek outside company, but she seemed moderately comfortable having guests in her house.

"Girls, this is Dr. Helen Nordstrom, the famous musician. Remember I told you about her?" They nodded solemnly. "She's from Earth, born there, and put in cryostasis—you know what that means . . ." again there were nods, "for something like sixty years—no, seventy. Am I right?" she asked Helen, who nodded pleasantly. "So, girls, it is a privilege to have her visit." She smiled at Helen, and Helen smiled back. Their host obviously did not smile often, but Helen seemed to have touched some chord in her. "You probably won't believe that I have often wanted to come see you!" Helen made some appropriate noises. She was rapidly losing that feeling of anger that would have made the questions Helen wanted to ask a little easier.

"Why are you here, Dr. Nordstrom?" Helen blinked. Her voice was quite gentle; she really wanted to know.

Helen took a deep breath. She sipped from her cup of tea.

"I . . . wanted to know whether . . . I want to know everything that was done to—my daughters!"

Across the room, Megan held her breath. She knew how single-minded Helen could be; over the past two weeks, she had learned more about Helen's special kind of power than Helen knew herself. On the other hand, she knew about Sheila by reputation. There was nothing ever said of her but that she was peaceable and polite. But she never took orders. She had been told not to clone herself: she had cloned herself twice. She had been told not to do a dozen different things, and she had gone ahead and done them. She was stubborn and pig-headed. In one sense, this was the meeting of the irresistible force and the immovable mass.

Sheila took a deep breath in her turn. She glanced at her younger daughter and said, "Would you take the kids to your room, love? I must talk to Dr. Nordstrom privately." Athene followed the two girls without a fuss, but Diane left reluctantly. Helen encouraged them softly, saying that it was only for a little while.

"You do know they're clones, don't you, Dr. Nordstrom?"

Helen sighed impatiently. "Yes, yes. Just call me Helen. I know that much."

"We eliminated the defective gene. Actually it was a number of genes, some of which were needed to—do important things. So I had to reintroduce safe variants from the database. Some of them I took from the other young lady, er . . ."

"Melanie Arnaud!"

"Commander Arnaud, yes. We were lucky. Her DNA was practically perfect. I mean, I didn't examine every bit of it, by any means! But . . . well, it would take too long to tell you the details, but suffice it to say that every segment we needed was a perfect example. They mostly had to do with endocrine function, so there won't be any visible difference. She's _mostly_ you, Dr.—Helen."

"Sheila . . ." Helen was finding it very difficult to make her accusation. "Sheila, they're too clever for their age! They're too tall for their age. They're growing up too fast!"

Sheila became distinctly flushed.

"I thought your permission had been obtained!" she said abruptly.

"To do what?" Helen's heart was thudding painfully.

Sheila shook her head, her lips clamped tight. Both her visitors recognized the signs. She would not talk. Helen was afraid that she would send them away. She had to make the woman believe that Helen was not angry at her, but only at what she had done.

"Please tell me," Helen said in a moderate tone. "I want to try to correct whatever may have been done. It's more important to tell me than to protest your innocence. I'm not accusing you of anything!"

"Correct whatever may have been done? How can you correct a correction?"

Helen frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Sheila's eyes were bright.

"They will learn faster. They will be healthier. They will be stronger. They will be more mature. The only things that would have stood in their way were minor defects in unimportant genes. Unimportant ones, you understand? They would have simply meant that the usual process of development would have had—shall we say—random delays. Most people, including you and I, have to try things repeatedly until we succeed. Eventually we succeed. The most successful of us succeeds a little faster, and her genes are a little more successful, under ideal conditions. But life is like that; it isn't the smartest women who get to spread their genes around, you know. It is the prettiest ones. The most beautiful. The ones with the fewest miscarriages!" Her eyes flashed. "Why shouldn't you, Helen Nordstrom, have the privilege of contributing your genes to this enterprise, this ship and its community? Why shouldn't your daughter grow faster, learn faster, remember more, have healthier grey cells, than your ancestors?"

Helen grabbed the opportunity as Sheila ran out of breath.

"You replaced other genes, then, ones that you considered faulty?"

"But ones that were perfect in Melanie! And for the other little one, I used one gene from you that would help her . . ."

Helen rolled her eyes; it was really too much. "Don't tell me: a music gene."

"No; bone density. That was the one gene that was less than perfect. This little girl is going to be heavier than her mother." Sheila let out her breath all at once. After being quiet for a while, staring at the floor, she added, "We don't know where the music genes are, Helen. Don't make jokes of my life's work."

Helen groaned.

"I'm not making fun of anything. I wanted to know whether my little girls are some kind of monsters, that's all. I wonder whether perfection is monstrous. How can you tinker with such things? What if there are repercussions beyond the obvious effects you desire and intend?"

Sheila drew herself up proudly.

"I first tested it on my own children. You can judge for yourself. I'm a lot brighter than average, but the children are more intelligent than I am. I have to raise them by myself, but the intelligence you see is nothing to do with their schooling. It was engineered into them. But they're happy, well-adjusted, affectionate children!"

"Are they really growing faster? My girls, I mean?"

Sheila shrugged. So far she had been candid, but now Helen saw a cautiousness creep into her manner.

"Like I said, all I did was to make sure that various random processes proceed more quickly. It's just a matter of making certain searches more efficient, by shortening certain lengths of nucleotide. In an ordinary person, an enzyme must hunt for a gene through miles and miles of DNA. By eliminating some redundant segments, it simply speeds everything up."

"And that's it?"

"That's it, yes." Sheila looked angry. Helen felt sorry for her; Sheila had done what she thought was a favor for Helen, and was being reproached for it.

Helen sighed and dropped her eyes. "I hate to sound ungrateful," she began, "but I have to wonder whether their children . . . whether those shortened DNA strands, or whatever, whether they will have some unfortunate effect."

Sheila looked stricken. Evidently it was not something to which she had devoted much thought. The genetic material in a person was only partly used by him or her; much of it was of primary importance to his or her descendants. The efficiency Sheila had achieved might have been at the cost of possible fail-safe mechanisms that came into play over generations, which nature, or evolution, or whatever, had fashioned.

"I can't imagine how it could possibly affect anything. I wasn't indiscriminate, you must understand. There are instances where the length of a segment _does_ have a role to play. But there is a vast volume—acres and acres—of what used to be called 'Junk DNA.' It was a very specific subset of that which I excised." She looked angry now, because perhaps Helen had made her look incompetent. Her face became closed, and Helen's heart sank. She had to find out as much as she could, and she could not do that if this woman withdrew into her shell, and refused to communicate. So far she had trusted Helen, and somehow, in spite of everything, Helen had hit the right tone with her.

"So, if they grow a little faster, it's just because the—well, the growth process has simply been streamlined, in a minor way?"

"Exactly! Growth is just a matter of putting together the right proteins at the right time. Their bodies still decide the signals, those cues. What I—what my team, that is—has done is to make sure that when the cue is given, the proteins are created much more promptly. You understand?"

Helen nodded. Now the big question had to be asked.

"But I had heard . . . that there was a method of forcing growth at an unnatural speed . . ." Helen's courage failed her. She felt a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. "I don't know what it's called . . ."

Sheila's face seemed to change subtly. She was reacting to this idea very strongly. Was she very unhappy, or was she angry, or what was it?

Finally she nodded. _She's probably thinking it was a mistake to let us in the door,_ Helen thought to herself. She glanced over at Megan. Megan was watching Sheila calmly, giving Helen a tiny encouraging smile before she turned her eyes to Sheila once again.

"Yes," said Sheila, with a note of resignation, Helen thought. "I should have expected that you were told about that."

"It's true, then!"

"Of course, Helen; they would have suggested it eventually. It works. That's what you want to know."

"No! I want you to tell me that it hasn't been started on my girls!"

"Started? Of course not!" Sheila was amused. "It can only be done in the laboratory!"

"What do you mean?" Helen exclaimed.

"Simply that. The child must be immersed in a nutrient bath, the cells must be constantly stimulated, and there must be a continuous supply of growth material. The brain must be stimulated to deal with the enormous gains in maturity . . ." Helen was looking slightly sick, and Sheila was getting angry and embarrassed at the implied criticism of what she was saying. "No one is going to do it without your full cooperation, Helen. You can rest assured it's not being done without your knowledge!"

"Oh, thank God, thank God!" Helen said, weak with relief. "I am so grateful to you, Sheila! I can see now, you are not only a brilliant scientist, you also have strong principles! I could never have borne the burden of guilt if my girls were to be subjected to that kind of thing!"

Sheila shook her head slowly. "The guilt will be yours if you _don't,_ " she said.

Helen gave an exclamation of dismay.

"Explain yourself! How could it be to their advantage to be force-grown in a vat, like prize pumpkins? How could they become normal people, without the time to enjoy their childhood, their teen years, to get their schooling in the normal time it takes for kids to learn it in the usual way? What sort of adults would they be, if they had a portion of their childhood stolen away?"

Sheila surprised Helen by giving Megan an appealing look, as if to say, _help me explain_. Helen looked at Megan shocked. Why would Megan take Sheila's side? Why would Sheila expect her to? Helen could hardly believe her eyes and ears. This was all like some weird nightmare.

"Helen, I'm a biochemist. I only know certain technical things about your ailment. I don't know how the disease will advance, I have only read about certain routes it can take. I don't know how long you have to live, how much time you will have, to give your children. You understand?"

Helen shook her head. "No, I don't. I know you're not familiar with diabetes, but so what?"

Helen took off her glasses, which seemed to be misting up, and rubbed at her eyes. All this talk was making her angry, and it was worse when her eyes gave trouble. She did _not_ want to appear to be losing her composure. She had to remain calm for the sake of the children, and because Megan was there. It was acutely frustrating that Sheila seemed such a reasonable type, in spite of her strange ideas. She felt very depressed, the fight gone out of her.

When she put her glasses back on and looked up, it was as though a lot had gone on while she had been distracted. Megan was giving her a familiar look, but Helen couldn't think what it meant.

"It's time you ate," Megan said softly. Helen was bewildered for just a moment, before she understood. Sheila gave an exclamation and hurried away, muttering under her breath, her robe flapping.

"We can't bother her," Helen said, getting to her feet, but her knees gave way, and she sat down again. An angry tear rolled out of her eye, and she had to wipe it again. She reached for her drink, but it was gone, she had drunk it all.

"Helen?" Megan's voice was quietly urgent.

"What?"

"If you really want it, I can get you home. But . . ."

"Yes, go ahead; I'm listening." Helen rubbed at her eyes harder, and Megan was near her, holding her hand still. Helen felt confused by all the mixed emotions she was feeling. She tugged at her hand, and Megan held it firm. She was kneeling by Helen's side.

"You're doing very well," she said softly; "I think you should stay and finish talking to her!"

Helen clenched her jaw. "She thinks of my children as some experiment for her research!"

"Helen . . ."

Sheila bustled in, and halted, seeing the two of them talking in low whispers.

"I . . . would you like to join us for supper? It's only bread and soup, I'm afraid; it's my secret for keeping my girlish figure!" She smiled, and looked almost pretty. Becoming serious again, she asked, "Do you need to talk over your plans?" She let out a long breath, as if she had been holding it in. "You've been upset, I know, and I apologize . . . sometimes I say things without thinking. I keep to myself, you see, and I have no time for much socializing. This is rather a treat, actually, for us!"

Helen sank even further into her bewilderment. It was obvious that they were rather a burden on the little family's hospitality, but Sheila's tone sounded genuine enough. Helen's anger battled with her politeness. Evidently the Connors girls were trying to get supper ready while entertaining the children, something they could not have been accustomed to doing.

"No, we must leave . . ." Helen mumbled. She was too confused. It was all too much.

"Does she carry some kind of a tester? From what I've read . . ." she heard Sheila ask Megan. Before Helen could reply, she felt herself shiver. She felt a vague alarm. The sounds from the kitchen seemed louder.

The time for reasoning was past. Megan put one of the sugar pills in her mouth, and Helen sucked at the sweet. Even that seemed to need quite an effort. "I can tell," Megan said quietly. "It's way past her mealtime."

"You mean high blood sugar can cause this?"

"No, _low_ blood sugar."

"I don't understand!"

Megan shrugged and looked up at Sheila. She tried to sound reassuring. "I think her drugs over-compensate, a little. It's low sugar that's noticeable. As far as I know, anyway."

"Good grief!"

It was one of Sheila's colorful sayings. Megan watched anxiously, as Helen continued to shiver a couple of more times. It had never got this bad. Helen felt a little cool to the touch, but then it was early spring. But the house was kept quite warm . . .

Megan was torn between wanting to stay and make sure Helen was all right, and making sure the kids weren't getting in the way of the Connors girls.

"If you could send the children out to me, I can take care of them," she said to Sheila. Just then, all four young people appeared to invite them all to supper. They seemed thoroughly pleased with themselves.

Helen was looking about, a trifle dully.

"What's going on?" she asked Megan.

"We've been invited to supper," Megan repeated, for her.

"It's getting late," Helen muttered under her breath.

"Why don't you stay the night?" Sheila pleaded.

"I'd love to," Helen said, politely. She looked at Megan, her face creased in a frown. "What about you?"

Supper was good, more because of the company of the children, and how they interacted with each other, than because of the quality of the food. Helen quickly came back to normal, appearing somewhat embarrassed about the episode.

"Did I faint, or something?"

"No, you never fainted," Megan reassured her. It seemed to be important to Helen. "You did begin to shiver, though. I wonder whether that's normal." She looked at Sheila, who reddened slightly.

"Well, it certainly is a possible symptom of hypoglycemia," she said. "We never paid much attention to that sort of thing, except for emergency medicine," she said. She sighed and shook her head. "A lot of the old knowledge is gone, through disuse," she said, looking unhappy. "As a physician, I'm rather a loss, I'm afraid. I've never practiced, except on myself and my girls, of course. And they've never needed much in that way."

"Your children are perfect little ladies, Dr. Nordstrom!" said Jennifer. "Aren't they, Vonnie?"

"They most certainly are!" agreed the older girl, smiling fondly at the two little girls, seated on cushions to bring them to table height. Just minutes before, Diane had asked, "Do you have milk?" and Jennifer had gotten to her feet, laughing, to bring them little mugs of milk. She had explained that the little mugs had been her own when she was a baby, and Sheila's before that.

Helen ate voraciously, mumbling apologies. "This soup is excellent," she kept saying.

"It's just standard Ship soup, with our own mushrooms added, that's all," said Sheila.

"Really? Where do you find mushrooms?"

"Oh, in the woods," said Sheila. "I've studied about them, and I know the ones to pick."

"They're delicious," Helen said again.

By the end of the meal, Helen was drowsy, and was put to bed with little trouble. Megan got the children cleaned up and into their night clothes, but they insisted on sleeping with the 'little aunties,' as they called the Connors girls. Megan lay down next to Helen, her mind a mess of unfamiliar experiences. She felt more protective than ever of Helen. This new, helpless Helen was a disturbing contrast to the confident, powerful woman she had been. She was fast asleep now, curled up like a child in the guest room. She still felt a little cool, or was that in Megan's imagination? With a sigh, she turned away, snugging her broad back against Helen's. That would give her warmth when she needed it. She pulled a thin sheet over the two of them, and the heavier blanket just over up to their knees. Then she settled down to think, her eyes wide open.

She came awake in the early morning with Helen's long arms around her. Helen was awake, and was talking to her.

"Megan?" she was saying softly. "Are you awake?"

With a yawn, Megan turned slowly around onto her back, careful not to crush Helen. She lifted Helen's arm carefully off her breasts and went through her usual waking ritual of rubbing her eyes and yawning repeatedly. "Yeah, I'm awake," she said. "How're you feeling?"

Helen was silent. She turned to look at Helen, and saw her, her face inches from Megan's, her green eyes softly glowing, a little smile on her lips. Her hand came up to hold Megan's arm possessively, it seemed to her. Megan smiled in return. She was coming to love Helen very much, in spite of the unexpected frailties of the woman.

"I want to thank you for . . . everything!" She kneaded Megan's arm absently. Megan covered it with her own. Her fingers were thin and spatulate at the ends, the nails cut off short. They were calloused, the fingers of a violinist and a pianist.

"What's there to thank?"

"I'm so much trouble to you!"

"A friend is never trouble!" said Megan, surprising herself. Helen was bringing out feelings in her that were unfamiliar, and yet very pleasant. It was like having a sister, or a best friend. Yes, they were definitely becoming very close, and to her surprise, Megan found that she was happier than she had been since her father had died, or since those first wonderful days, when she and Andy had found each other. Helen was almost as good company as Andy was. Better, she was a woman, who would understand things that Andy could only guess at.

Helen unexpectedly gave Megan a soft kiss on the cheek. Megan wanted to do the same, but Helen's mouth was in the way, so she kissed that.

"That means a lot to me," Megan whispered awkwardly, and they put their arms around each other. "I shouldn't have let—what happened yesterday—happen at all. I'm so sorry!"

"It wasn't your fault!"

"Well, it was, really. You were too busy to realize what was happening."

Helen struggled a little, and Megan released her. But she only wanted to look Megan in the eye.

"I have to keep _some_ responsibility for myself," she said, softly but firmly. "You're doing more than anyone should, already!"

In her innocence, Megan's little acts of intimacy were driving Helen mad. Still, in some crazy way, the very fact that Megan did not suspect what Helen was, made it easier to keep up the pretense of a platonic relationship between them. In truth, it was platonic; the Megan whom Helen desired, and the Megan she loved were two people. Helen had endowed them with rather different personalities. The fierce aggressive woman whom Helen fantasized as being in love with her, and who made love to her in her dreams was quite different from the patient, long-suffering, placid woman who lay by her side. And Helen loved the real woman far more.

Helen was back to normal. After a glass of juice, she joined the Connors in the kitchen to fix breakfast, while Megan took care of the kids. There was something uncanny about the Connors children. The older one looked about twenty-five, or maybe a little older, the younger about sixteen. Sheila herself looked to be about forty, but Helen decided she must be older. Her parents were pioneers, members of the original crew. Even if she had been born late, she would be of Cass and Alison's generation, and they were in their late sixties. None of it made sense.

They were awkward with Helen, but very friendly, and pleased to have her, and yet more pleased that she would join them in the kitchen. Repeatedly and awkwardly they expressed their surprise at how relaxed she was in the kitchen.

"It's as if you've cooked all your life," said Jennifer.

"Well, I have," Helen said. "I like cooking, and I cook every day, at home!"

"I know, you said so, but . . . with all the work you do, and, well, you know, your hands . . ."

Helen laughed. "I have to use hand cream," she admitted. "I've just got into the routine of doing that. And I'm careful about getting cuts on my fingers."

After breakfast, Sheila insisted that Helen stay a little longer. She chased everyone else away, and led Helen to a secluded place where they could be private. There she talked to Helen at length about the ship and its mission, and about Helen, and how she believed Helen had influenced the mood of the leadership of the ship for the better.

"You're all the more influential because you have no ambitions at all, politically, yet you have great aspirations. You understand?"

"Well, yes, I do not have _political_ ambitions, and yes, I have aspirations, but I don't see how that should matter so much!"

Sheila shrugged. "I don't understand it, myself. But everyone admires you, and they want to do their best for you. And that seems to make a difference. My girls want to be musicians! And now that they've seen you, and how _versatile_ you are, they . . . it . . ." she gave up with a laugh.

Suddenly she was serious. "Tell me about your parents."

Helen was taken by surprise. Recovering, she began to tell Sheila a little about her father, and soon she found herself telling her more and more, and though it was clear that Sheila was not accustomed to interviewing people at length, she had excellent instinctive skills, urging Helen on at the right moments, being silent when she should be silent.

Helen recounted the most deeply-etched memory of her mother last of all. It was the horrific night when she, her mother, and their dog Martha had been driving home, trying to beat a sudden thunderstorm. Lightning had struck a tree just a few dozen yards ahead, and an enormous branch of the tree had fallen on the speeding car, killing Helen's mother and the dog instantly. There had been shattered glass and blood everywhere, and the eleven-year-old Helen had been forced to walk home, covered with blood, in a state of shock, nearly five miles.

It had been five years before Helen's father had recovered from the loss. He had gone on to have two more children, one with a wonderful woman who Helen later learned had been her mother's secret lover for twenty years, and later with Helen's high-school classmate, who had come to work for Helen's father in his farm, and later married him.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yes?"

"Now, when you're, what, twenty-five . . ."

"Thirty-three!"

Sheila sighed, looking at Helen thoughtfully. "You don't look your age," she said.

"But if my mother were alive . . . I could ask her so many things . . . She was a wonderful woman! And she was beautiful. People said she looked more beautiful than Marilyn Monroe, who was the beauty at the time. She . . . she had wonderful eyes!"

"And you have them!"

The eyes in question moved to look at Sheila thoughtfully. Sheila's own blue eyes held them, and Helen saw a challenge there. "Judging from photographs . . ." Helen began.

"It has little to do with photographs!" Sheila snapped. "It is the way your eyes _speak!_ It is how they move, how they react! How can a photo show all _that?_ " Helen looked at her, taken aback. "It isn't a wonder they're all in love with you!"

Helen blushed deep red.

"I _beg_ your pardon!"

Sheila looked away briefly, and made a gesture of dismissal. She had gotten distracted.

"Did you mean what you said, that you would have liked to have your mother alive today?"

"Oh, a million times yes!" said Helen, closing her eyes. She could almost imagine her mother there. "If only she could see the girls! And my adopted children . . ."

"No! Not for _her_ sake, but for _their_ sake!"

"Of _course,_ for their sake! And for mine!"

"And how long do you want to be . . . a part of the lives of these little girls?"

"Until I die, of course! What a strange question! Years and years! I'd keep them with me forever, if I could!"

"You may never see their children," Sheila said.

"Why not?"

"Because, people with your affliction do not generally live very long."

Helen went as white as a sheet, got up, and walked away. Behind her she heard "Helen! Wait!"

In spite of everything Sheila said to put her remark in perspective, Helen was too hurt to be reasonable. The point had been made, very forcefully, and Helen was as angry with herself as with Sheila. They made a show of parting amicably, and Sheila almost believed that her apology had been accepted. But later, as she spoke with the girls, they were of the opinion that Helen had only been polite. "You're too outspoken," Jennifer said, critical of her mother, as always.

"But you were honest," said Yvonne.

## Back Home

Their reunion with Lena and the Arnaud girls was an emotional one. Alison said that Helen had been scheduled for a checkup as soon as she got back. Helen looked at Megan accusingly, and Megan nodded. It was all that was needed; their relationship now was such that they knew each other too well to waste words.

"Why?" Helen asked. Megan only looked grim.

They moved back into the apartment. Lena was kept behind with her mother, though she begged to go. Daisy was firm, and Alison looked troubled behind her calm smile. She always wore that Mona Lisa smile that revealed little of her feelings. _Something has happened_ , Helen told herself. Daisy is not happy.

Things settled back to normal in other ways; classes began, and the orchestra began a series of concerts. Helen had negotiated concert venues in Tropical, and a series of concerts were given there, too. A number of soloists had emerged; Lena was now a phenomenal violin player, and there were a couple of excellent pianists, cornists, flautists, an oboist, a harpist, violists, cellists, and a wonderful clarinetist.

Helen created a sensation by performing several works of Hildegard of Bingen in the cathedral church of the Tropical Segment. It was modestly attended, mostly by young folk, but word spread, and there was another performance in the small catholic chapel of Temperate Segment, which was recorded for broadcast. For many, it was the most wonderful performance of Helen's singing they had heard. Helen's singing was not universally appreciated; many ship-folk preferred her folk-songs and her violin-playing. A new craze for Hildegard's music was started, and when Helen called on her Finnish friends, they reported that Hildegard recordings were being accessed a hundred times a day.

## Probe _Helen_

The medical report on Helen revealed that there had been further deterioration. The doctors were so desperate, they had begged the crew to send a courier probe back to Earth to obtain information about the treatment and management of diabetes.

Despite the crew's assurances that such a thing made no sense whatsoever, they insisted. In the end, a small probe was dispatched, programmed to signal Earth with its message and request, and to relay the response to the ship, if it was received. It had a power source designed to keep it functional for one hundred years, if all went well. Several new developments in signal processing and radio technology, and careful planning, made it very efficient in its radio capability. It was much more robust than the woman on whose behalf it had been launched!

## A Celebration

One morning, Melanie returned from the showers to find most of her friends gathered around the big table in the common-room. There was what looked suspiciously like a cake, with the legend: _Happy Birthday, Melanie!_

The faces around her shone with happiness and excitement, most surprisingly, Shaun's.

Melanie smiled and began to cry.

"Happy birthday!" they cried, all together, and she was being hugged and kissed by everyone at once.

It was just the diversion they needed. Morale at the base had been flagging, the endless quarreling had subsided somewhat, but they had all been avoiding each other, each keeping company only with the few colleagues with whom they knew they would not start an argument. Melanie had been one of the few who spoke to all of them for one reason or another, but even she spoke to Alan as little as possible. The one who clung to her the most was young Spencer, who was half grateful, half guilty for what he saw as Melanie being victimized by Shaun.

Melanie's nights were occupied with the rather demanding athletics that Shaun insisted on. At first she had only accommodated him for Spencer's sake, but now it was a way of life. While physically they were very close, Melanie had found herself becoming more distant, but she realized that it was more the approach of the ship that weighed on her, not how Shaun actually treated her.

The entire surprise was a conspiracy between Shaun and Chisako, and for several days the goodwill that it generated seemed to last, and even to grow. The eighteen of them—nineteen with the doctor—had a smoothly functioning mining and manufacturing operation going on the planet, and a large dome in which they could walk about without space-suits, an incredible achievement.

Melanie was held in great respect by all of them. Some of them had an almost superstitious awe of her, while others, at the very least, admired her for her leadership abilities. Shaun was the outwardly least respectful of all the personnel, but then he was the associate mission commander. It was rather an empty title, since he was primarily a navigator, and had been put in charge of the second cutter because they had had a difficult trip, having to cross the system and travel much farther to reach them. Once he had delivered his passengers and his cargo safely, his job had been essentially done. But he daily proved himself by working harder than anybody, though he took it out on Melanie in the nights.

Melanie was persuaded to dress up for her birthday celebration. She wore something feminine at Chisako's insistence. Chisako braided her hair, sighing with pleasure.

"You have the prettiest hair I know," she told Melanie.

"Well, that doesn't count," Melanie retorted, smiling, "you like me!"

"I more than just like you, Melanie."

Melanie closed her eyes. They had not talked love for months.

"How is it going with Kevin?"

"Okay," said Chisako. It was her way. "I think of you, with that man . . ."

"He isn't that bad, girl; see how he planned this little celebration!"

Chisako had to agree. He had been very excited about the whole thing, and she grudgingly admitted that he seemed different while they worked together. They had made the cake together, and he had frosted it, all out of a box they had brought with them.

When Chisako was finished with Melanie's hair, the latter had got into the spirit of the event, and touched up her face with makeup, giving her lips a little extra color, and spending a few seconds to shape her heavy eyebrows into more elegant things. She was pleased at the effect, and Chisako was frankly admiring.

When the rest of them saw Melanie, there was a pin-drop silence. Then they all spontaneously began to applaud. She was amazed at the reaction on their faces; evidently they were overwhelmed by what they saw, the peculiarly sweet face that Melanie had smiled at in the mirror all her life. She had aged, she knew, and her eyes had become more serious over the course of the last several months—more than a year, now, she realized. Her babies would be grown now . . . she was a commander, and a more responsible person, with far greater authority than the humble schoolteacher she still occasionally thought of herself as. It felt odd, having to smile, worrying about lipstick getting on her teeth.

"Speech!" they cried, her friends yelling the loudest. All eighteen eyes regarded her with more affection than she had been used to seeing there in many weeks. They were all dressed up, in regulation dress uniforms; she was the only one in civvies.

"Thank you for everything," she said simply, giving Shaun a special nod of thanks, and then turning to hug Chisako. For once, neither Alan nor Shaun protested. A girl had the right to hug her best friend on her birthday!

"How many candles?" asked somebody.

"Twenty-eight," said Melanie. They were surprised. They had thought she was far older.

# Year 78: Fears of Mortality

## Checkup

Helen's episodes of hypoglycemia were getting to be so numerous, she had to cut down on her medication. One day, she began to believe that, quite possibly, she would not live long enough to give the children as much of herself as they deserved. Melanie would have them after Helen died, but . . . was it the same as being there herself?

Cass and she began to talk about Helen's fears on Sundays.

"I worry, too," Cass said gently.

Helen was instantly upset.

"Are you telling me everything? Am I going to . . . have they told you I'm . . . ?"

"Calm down," Cass said, suiting her tone to her request. "Just generally—you're more than what you carry in your genes, love. Just having the—children—doesn't mean we have all of you we need on this ship." Helen was accustomed to hearing Cass talk about her this way, as if she were some piece of software, some resource. Helen knew how much Cass loved her, but the ship came first, and when she said these things, she really _was_ considering Helen simply as a resource. "There are others; Lena, your students, young Summer . . . you've put a lot of yourself into them."

"I'm not thinking of the ship, Cass. I'm thinking of two little girls, who won't have their mother very long. The ship can go screw itself!"

"You know you don't mean that, Helen. What's good for the ship is good for the children. The ship is their world! Would you want them to grow up in a world that hasn't understood your message of love, and beauty, and . . . diversity and tolerance?"

Feeling her face heat up, Helen subsided. They were talking past each other again.

"I'll just have to stay healthy," Helen muttered.

Out of the blue, one Friday, when Helen got home, she found Sheila waiting for her. It was late summer, and Sheila had simply sat on the little planter by the side of the entrance, and was busy reading a book. Seeing the tall woman with her rope of golden hair striding up, Sheila looked up from under the brim of her big floppy hat.

"Sheila! When did you get here?" Helen demanded, in the clear voice Sheila remembered so well. The youngsters had grown, and Helen had one little hand in her own, while the faithful Megan followed with the other young lady. Helen pushed the door open. Sheila sighed; she hadn't tried the door. If she had known it was unlocked, she would have let herself in.

Sheila studied the two little ones. She had done practically no tinkering on them, as Helen described it, except for cleaning up certain parts of their DNA, something she had done with both her own girls. Helen's kids were essentially untouched, except for the bone-density gene, which she had spliced into Arnaud's child, and the endocrine systems genes, which she had spliced wholesale into Helen's own child. They would both be tall, and strong-boned, but in every other way, they would be like their respective mothers.

At the moment, though, they acted very much like siblings. They talked to each other all the time, and had similar voices, and identical speech, as one could expect. Even their body language was identical, derived mostly from Helen. Helen was an enormous influence on all her surroundings, not so much by conscious effort as by persuasion and by her ability to insinuate herself into the hearts of people.

The humble little apartment—which certainly seemed comfortable—was decorated with pictures of musicians, drawings of people Sheila did not know, and the artwork of the four little girls. While they were putting away their things, and Helen and Sheila had taken turns to use the little half-bath that opened on the entrance lobby, the older children—both children of Melanie Arnaud—arrived with a young lady who looked strangely familiar. It took a while for Sheila to place her; she was the child of the Levins, Ruth's daughter. She and Sheila eyed each other suspiciously for a few moments.

"What's your name?" the young lady asked.

"Sheila. What's yours?"

"Summer." Sheila had nodded. She pointedly ignored the child, and she went away. Helen appeared with a welcome drink, and they sat down to talk. They could hear Megan debriefing the kids in an inner room.

"I just made the acquaintance of a young lady named Summer," remarked Sheila drily.

Helen smiled merrily. "I can just picture the scene," she said, a laugh in her voice.

"Not a lot was disclosed on either side," Sheila said. "She makes up for the garrulity of her mother!"

Helen laughed. "Did Ruth talk up a storm, then?"

"As a kid, yes," said Sheila. Then she seemed to soften visibly. "How are you doing, dear girl?"

"It's so good of you to come and check on me!"

"You're one of the few people on this ship, Helen."

"What?"

Sheila let the idea sink in. She meant that most of the ship folk weren't thinking, reasoning, valuable human beings; they were just automatons, worth nothing.

"I don't really mean that literally. It's just that . . . you know, you meet someone, and you _know_ they're different. There's just a handful of people I feel it's worth talking to, and you're one. And your children. They're fascinating!"

"Sheila, I'm glad you came by."

Sheila was surprised. She waited for Helen to elaborate.

"Tell me more about this . . . vat business."

Sheila frowned. She hated when people called it a vat. It was a _nutrient bath._

"It isn't a vat, but . . . what do you want to know?"

"How soon will you know it's safe?"

Sheila smiled.

"It's perfectly safe, Helen. I'm much farther along than . . . anybody suspects. I'm learning more about computers, now, and . . . anyway, the important thing is that . . . it has been done successfully, and it involved much more than just the physical growth of the child. It was an incredible success!"

Helen leaned forward. "You've actually done it? All by yourself?"

Sheila shook her head. "I had help. There were four of us. The other three prefer not to be associated with the experiment."

"Who? Who was the child? Can I see him? Or her?"

Sheila laughed. It seemed so obvious, but Helen had not put the clues together. "Helen, I couldn't possibly experiment on anyone's child but my own!"

Helen's eyes grew round. "I can't believe it! She looks so—so vivacious, so normal, so relaxed! Oh Sheila, I can't believe it!"

Sheila's face fell. "I meant Yvonne, not Jennifer. Jennifer's older."

Helen's mouth hung open.

"How old is she?" Helen asked, bracing herself for Sheila's reply.

"A little under fourteen," she replied. "She's been in the bath for ten of those years. And of course, she isn't as complete a person, as mature as Jennifer. Jennifer is an exceptional child, but Yvonne . . . is my favorite," Sheila confided. "In some ways, she is very innocent, very naïve. But she's loving, affectionate, trusting. And she can have children soon, and I'll be able to see them! Jennifer refuses to have children until she's ready. Knowing me—and she's exactly like me in every way—she'll wait until she's forty, and . . . I'll be long gone."

"How old are you, Sheila?"

"Fifty," she said. The baby-blue eyes were completely open to Helen, and Helen saw the yearning in them.

"You look wonderful," Helen said, not believing that she said it. But the smile on Sheila's face was payment enough. Sheila was not a vain woman. But somehow, Helen's opinion meant something, and Helen had been sincere. Sheila was slim and healthy, and looked a decade younger than her true age. Jennifer and Yvonne looked handsome in a quiet way, with the same solemn blue eyes, and the medium-brown hair of their mother, and the same sensitive mouth, and the slim figure.

"Yes," Sheila continued, "Vonnie is just fourteen." She sighed. "But she's a child, Helen . . . she's too trusting, too affectionate. Any man will make mincemeat out of her. Where could I find a man gentle enough, and strong enough to look after her, and not make a slave of her?" Sheila shook her head. "I was a fool. The cruelty of society has its uses—and the long childhood we all endure has its uses, too, to teach us how cruel society is! So I have to protect Vonnie all her life. I have to live as long as I can, just to make sure she's okay!"

Helen found herself strangely drawn to Sheila. She was an odd mixture of mad scientist and sweet, innocent person. She had a sense of humor, and was as ready to laugh as anyone. She stayed for an early supper, and Megan said she would see her home, after Helen had taken all her medication, and promised not to go out of the house until Megan returned.

"What's she really like?" Sheila wanted to know as soon as they had hit the road that led round to the other side of the segment.

Megan smiled in the darkness. There were no streetlamps here, only little low-power lights along the edge of the road, at ground level. "She's exactly as she appears," she said. "She's cautious with adults, but she's not really aloof. More reserved, I'd say."

"She's fond of the children."

"Yes, _all_ of them, even Captain Arnaud's little girls. And even Alison's granddaughter, Lena. Lena is her favorite."

Sheila frowned. "The girl who plays the violin?"

"Yes."

"How is she keeping, health-wise?"

"Not well. I shouldn't tell you more, Dr. Connors, even though I know you care about what happens to her."

Sheila was impressed with Megan's loyalty. Privacy was not a concept well-understood on the ship.

"Megan, if her health really deteriorates, I want you to call me. There are various tricks I have up my sleeve that may come in handy."

"I hope it never comes to that, Dr. Connors."

"But will you?"

"All right."

That night, after Megan returned, she checked up on Helen, in bed, and found her writhing in pain. Daisy was sent for, and leaving the children in the care of Daisy and Lena, Megan rushed Helen to the medical center. Helen was given a powerful pain-killer, which incidentally made her violently sick, and she was given an ultrasonic probe of her abdomen, and a kidney-stone was found. Taking the opportunity, a careful scan of each of her kidneys was performed, and it revealed that they had suffered damage due to the diabetes, and the treatment. Other diagnostic tests were performed, including inserting a catheter into Helen's urethra, and examining her urine over an entire day.

When the doctors talked to her, their worried frowns told Helen more than she wanted to know. Her kidneys were in bad shape. Her diet had to be adjusted in a number of ways, and several other medications added to the ones she was taking, including one to lower her blood pressure, which allowed her kidneys to work less hard. Meanwhile, they were also concerned with her blood cholesterol, and her body weight.

On and on it went. Helen returned home convinced that her health was in tatters. Already she ate and drank nothing with any sugar added, completely avoided fruits such as pineapples and bananas, and limited her enjoyment of oranges to one a month. Grapes and dates were forbidden. Now her diet was even more restricted, and Helen felt as glum as she had ever felt.

The children made it all bearable. They hardly quarreled among themselves, settling most arguments reasonably, without adult intervention. Marissa was the ideal older sister, with Maya the most mischievous of the lot. The others adored cute little Maya, whose dimple seemed to get deeper and merrier every month. They were a closely-knit group, and enjoyed each other's company. The two older girls were now old enough to join other children in team sports during the summer months.

As the ship approached its destination, more and more of the ship folk became interested in the world outside the ship. Youngsters took turns out at the lookout window up near the hub, exclaiming at how bright the star was becoming. The view from the scoop was permanently available on one of the video channels, and the position of the planet was indicated outlined with a box, especially after a number of people became hysterical with imagined disasters they thought they had witnessed the planet suffer. The planet was eventually visible as a dark disc, lit on one side by the star. It was time to call the star the Sun, since that was the more useful term while they were in-system.

The extra medication made Helen feel weak and lethargic. Once she got used to it, she did not feel quite so bad, but she could now no longer take her mind off her illness; it was there, front and center all the time. She had to have new glasses, with thicker lenses, she had a harder time reading. Frequent tests were made of her kidneys, and finally Helen decided that she had to deal with the situation aggressively.

"I don't know what's going to happen to me," Helen said. "Tell me what it takes!"

Sheila waited a long moment before she launched into her description.

"She was around four. She was heavily sedated, and then we had to fill her lungs with a special solution." Helen's face lost much of its color. "It's really immersion, Helen, she breathes oxygenated salt solution the whole time. It isn't uncomfortable, just alarming. There are wires leading to certain nodes in her brain—that was all put in place by the other people. One of them is a neurosurgeon. There now; you know who it is. And the bath was wired for sound, and this is the most important thing: she was fed sound of everything that went on in our house. My voice, Jennifer's voice, talking to each other, talking to her. We would read from books, we would simply talk about all kinds of subjects. We would tell her how we felt. And while she was growing, this information was played to her repeatedly, so that she lived in our home all the time she was in the bath!"

There was a lot more, but Helen had latched onto one principle that she could understand; there was an education aspect that was an important part of the process. Otherwise, you simply had a fourteen-year-old in the body of a twenty-eight year-old. It was the experiences that Yvonne had been provided with that made the difference. The same sound recordings, repeated at different stages in her mental development, gave her different information her mind could use. Helen decided to begin creating this sound recording immediately. As a result, if one of her children was subjected to this procedure, she would be listening to recordings in which she, herself, was a participant. So what? Experience was experience.

Accordingly, the equipment was set up. All the public rooms of the house were wired for sound; special recorders were running, which would compress long periods of silence, to save space. The children's own room was also wired, despite a possible intrusion into their privacy.

In addition, Helen poured herself into a series of recordings, her favorite books, her life story, her memories of people she had known and admired. Further, all her classes at the Collegium had been recorded, and continued to be recorded.

## Tea

Helen and Megan made another trip out to Sheila's part of the segment. The children were safely with Daisy, with whom Helen had managed to make a kind of truce, without any mention of the photographs.

Helen stopped first at the home of Heikki and Jaakko, after which she headed out towards Sheila's home. She was greeted with delight by Yvonne, whose smile was like the sun. The young woman gave Helen a warm hug and a shy kiss.

"Why, thank you, Yvonne!" Helen said, giving her a kiss in return, and Vonnie stood aside, covered with confusion. It was easier than ever to believe that the young woman was in actual fact only fourteen years old.

"Where are the little girls?" Vonnie asked, looking for them.

"We left them at home," Helen said, "I'm not as strong as I used to be!"

"Oh! Well, what's to be done," Vonnie said, giving Helen and Megan a reproachful smile. She really was pretty, Helen decided. Compared to Jennifer she was quite ordinary, but when her older sister was not there to compete for attention, Vonnie shone brightly. Her hair was straight and smooth, neatly parted on a side. Her lips were soft and sensuous, her eyes gentle and trusting. Her slim figure had curves in all the right places, and Helen's thoughts very soon pursued some rather improper possibilities.

"Helen! What a lovely surprise!" Sheila said, as she and Jennifer came out to see who the visitors were. "How's everything?"

"My kidneys are . . . coming apart," Helen said, blinking rapidly.

That was the occasion on which Helen learned the most unpleasant piece of news she was to hear for a long time. Sheila described how she could start yet another clone of Helen, but not a human being. Instead it would be essentially a kind of tree, which grew _Helen kidneys_.

Helen was stupefied. What did Sheila mean? Well, said Sheila, a clone was a complete copy of Helen. But this one would be persuaded to neglect all parts of Helen except the kidneys, and it could be persuaded to make several of them. It would have no brains, nothing except kidneys. If and when Helen lost the use of her own kidneys, one of these could be grafted onto her, with absolutely no fear of rejection by her body.

"I don't believe it," Helen said flatly. "It has to have _some_ kind of brain!"

"It's _not_ a person!" Sheila insisted. "It's just a kidney tree! It has to be fed, but it isn't alive! It just takes what it needs from the nutrient bath, because that's what kidney cells do!"

But Helen refused to talk about the idea anymore.

They stayed the night again, and this time they each were given her own room. Sheila seemed mildly curious about the relationship between them both, but Helen was in no mood to indulge her curiosity. Early the next morning, there was a soft tap on Helen's door.

"Come in!" Helen called out.

It was Yvonne. Helen pulled the blankets up to cover her breasts, and sat up in bed. Yvonne had a tray in her hands. "I've brought tea for you," she said softly. She laid it on the table, and bent over it, pouring tea. She seemed very slightly nervous.

"Thank you, Yvonne!"

"You're very welcome, Miss Helen."

"I would have been glad to come out for it; you shouldn't have bothered!"

"We thought it would be a treat for you, to have tea in bed! Unless you prefer coffee?"

"Oh, no, no; tea is fine. No sugar, please."

"Of course not! Here you are," she said, turning to offer Helen a pretty cup and saucer. It was definitely old Earth china. Helen accepted it with a small exclamation of appreciation.

Yvonne stood awkwardly smiling. "Did you bring a cup for yourself?" Yvonne started, and realized that there was a cup for her, too. She poured, and Helen made room for her on the bed. Helen smiled, and sipped at her tea. In spite of her awkwardness, she had a quiet beauty that appealed to Helen. Half of Helen thought of her as a very successful experiment, while half of her thought of her as a beautiful woman who was evidently very interested in her.

It was an awkward situation. Social customs were all designed to protect each sex from over-enthusiastic attention from the other. But between members of the same sex, of course, there were no such protections. While it would be considered strange for a young man to bring Helen tea in bed, this girl—a woman, fully grown now—could do so without arousing any remark. Yvonne posed no threat, of course, but Helen felt her own excitement rise, not because she was particularly attracted to the girl, but because she could sense Yvonne's excitement. Under other circumstances, Helen was sure she indeed _would_ have been attracted to her. She had her mother's mixture of grace and awkwardness, the slimness, and the beautiful expressive eyes, and soft sensuous lips. And of course there was great intelligence there, though Helen wondered in what direction it would be channeled. Would she take to science? Would Athene become a musician? Or would she become a nude model, a career Helen had flirted with for a year, earning the beginning of her enormous fortune? Helen blushed slightly at the memory of posing for the camera. Those had been heady days.

"Please don't be uncomfortable! I thought you might like a little company, that's all!"

"Oh no, my mind was just wandering. Well, tell me a little about yourself, Yvonne."

Yvonne blushed bright red. Helen only smiled encouragingly. Yvonne led a rather sheltered life, and she deserved better. Her schooling must be a very sketchy affair, Helen thought.

"There isn't a lot to tell, really. I'm home all the time, but I read a lot. And I listen to music!"

"Good for you! What kinds of books do you read? There are actual books, are there? Or do you read electronic books?"

"Oh, both kinds. We have a large paper library that grandpa owned, and then I get books from the archives."

Helen made herself a little more comfortable and took a few more sips. She brushed her hair out of her face—overnight, her hair tended to get absolutely _everywhere;_ it was a morning ritual, much like Megan's yawning and stretching, but Helen felt self-conscious as Yvonne's eyes seemed to caress her. _I must be growing old,_ she thought to herself; I'm getting to be so objective about this kind of thing. Somehow her body was on autopilot, acknowledging part of Yvonne's clumsy courtship, ignoring the rest. It would have been churlish to ignore it completely—or so it seemed to Helen. But she stopped far short of appearing to encourage Yvonne's attentions. But Helen's philosophizing stopped abruptly.

"Miss Helen, do you believe in love?" Helen felt herself gripping the china very hard indeed. She forced herself to relax. The blue eyes were deadly serious.

"Of course, Yvonne. What makes you ask?"

"Do you believe that love is more powerful than—all other things . . . rules, customs . . . things like that?" Her earnestness made her so beautiful, that Helen suppressed a gasp. She made herself remember that this _was_ Sheila, a copy of Sheila that had been spared the cruel childhood that had forged the older Sheila that she knew. An innocent Sheila, in experience a mere teenager.

How was Helen to treat her? As an adult, or as a child?

"No, dear . . . I'm not so young as to believe that. You see . . ." Helen squirmed mentally at the rhetoric she was considering using on the child. "You see, love can be a force, yes, but it's a special feeling between people. Not just a feeling in one person, but a feeling two people have _together . . ._ "

"It's all right, Miss Helen. I can see you're ahead of me . . ." She gave Helen a rueful look that made her look suddenly older; "It's a little frightening to meet someone who's smarter than I am!"

Helen felt miserable. "Not smarter, Yvonne, just . . ." Helen sighed. It would be an insult to claim to be older. She was not much older, physically, than this woman. ". . . Just more experienced. I've had my heart broken—oh, a dozen times, maybe a hundred times, I've lost count."

"Do you like women?"

"Yvonne, why torture . . ."

"Are you ashamed of it?" The blue eyes seemed bluer, and defiant.

"No!" said Helen reflexively. The look of triumph in Yvonne's eyes might have made Helen furious at one time, but that morning it only made Helen smile slowly. Before she could move, Yvonne laid down her cup of tea, gently removed Helen's cup, and leaning over her, kissed her firmly on the lips. Then she pulled away, her eyes wide, and stumbled out of the room.

"Where have you been?" she heard faintly down the hall. "Nowhere!" came the reply.

Helen was left breathless. The feel of Yvonne's mouth was still sweet on Helen's lips, and the feel of her body still burned on Helen's breasts, a pleasant tingle. Helen wanted that feel with all that was in her. It crossed her mind that this body was grown in a tank; it was a child wearing a woman's body. But it felt like a woman's body, all right. Helen covered her face with her hands, feeling a pale echo of the hunger Yvonne had been able to communicate to her. _I have to be careful,_ Helen told herself. _I'm not the only available woman, for her._ It was so easy to fall into the trap of seeing herself as the savior of all the lovelorn girls on the ship.

Her own loneliness had been chased away by Melanie Arnaud, who had left her with the children, and a far greater loneliness, of a different type. She rarely thought of Melanie, to be honest, but behind the faces of her three children, the memory of Melanie lurked, ready to possess her, and make her weep. The need for a woman in her arms was as strong as ever; her muscles ached for it. But she was no longer desperate to give her heart away. It was a realization that was a long time coming, but it had finally arrived.

Megan appeared at the door, pulling her robe about her, sweeping the hair out of her eyes.

"What happened?"

"Yvonne brought me tea," Helen said, limply.

Megan frowned. "What's all the fuss about?"

Helen shrugged. She did not have the energy to explain things to Megan. It would create more questions than answers in that worthy's mind, god bless her.

Megan raised the pot of tea and sniffed at it. "Hmm. Good tea," she said.

Helen was surprised; it _was_ good tea. "I didn't know you could tell!"

Megan nodded, a smug smile on her face.

"Give me a hug, Barrows," Helen said, opening her arms. Megan sat down beside her and gave her a tender embrace. Helen held her until there were sounds of the Connors approaching outside the door. "Okay," she said, and Megan let go. "Just say you came in to talk," she said in a low voice. Megan nodded, frowning.

Sheila appeared at the door. She glanced around the room, and saw the teapot. Her eyes finally came to rest on Megan and Helen.

"I see that Yvonne brought you some tea," she said, with an awkward smile.

Helen smiled back and nodded. "It's a lovely custom," she said, making her voice as warm and light as she could. "I'll be out in a minute!"

Sheila looked thoughtfully at Helen, waiting for more, but Helen smiled artlessly back. With a sigh, Sheila withdrew. She seemed genuinely anxious, and Helen believed that Yvonne's visit was her idea entirely. For a fourteen-year-old of exceptional intelligence, it was not an unbelievable plan; Summer might have done it, if her hormones had moved her to. But the words, the expression, the way it had been executed, spoke volumes for Yvonne's language skills, her intelligence, her imagination, as well as the kind of confidence in herself that only comes with a supportive and loving family. Helen found herself admiring Sheila more and more.

"Did you hear about the kidney tree?"

Megan nodded slowly.

Helen shook her head, her eyes far away. "It seems so callous," she murmured. "But for the sake of the children . . . I could be tempted to agree to it."

"Do it," urged Megan.

Helen impaled her with her stare. Megan looked back impassively. She was sticking to her advice.

Helen dropped her gaze. Megan loved her so fiercely, her judgment was no longer balanced.

"You can't bear to see me suffer," Helen accused.

Megan shrugged. "I'm practical," she said. "It isn't the pain; they can give you pain-killers. It's how much you can give the kids with a new kidney, and how much you can without." She handed Helen her cup of tea, still half-drunk. "I don't even know how bad it is with just one functioning kidney, for instance."

"Pretty bad, from what I hear," Helen admitted.

Megan took a deep breath. "Look, I don't mind helping you out. I like you, I like the kids. But the ship deserves better. I could be out there, doing maintenance, teaching the youngsters, training crew. You'll be more independent, you could meet people..."

_In a bit, she'll be suggesting a singles bar,_ Helen thought. Megan wanted Helen to be happy, find a good man. Ted had visited once, and Megan had been almost visibly excited. Ted fitted Megan's image of the kind of man who would work for her: confident, upper-class, professional, good sense of humor, good with children. And a doctor, too, just in case of a medical emergency. Megan had no inkling that Helen would rather bed Megan herself than Ted, though Ted was a sweetheart. If it _had_ to be a man, Helen supposed, Ted was the obvious choice.

A little later, Helen washed up, dressed demurely in an olive skirt and beige top, and came out to breakfast. The Connors women were all present, though Yvonne showed signs of having been crying. Her eyes were red, and the one time she looked Helen in the eye there was a brief hint of anguish, but Helen couldn't tell whether it was because of how badly their meeting had gone, or because of how much grief her mother and sister had given her. It had to be the former; the others did not show any signs of having given Yvonne a dressing-down.

"Have you thought some more about my idea?" Sheila asked.

"Yes, I have," said Helen, glancing at Megan.

" _I_ told her to do it," Megan contributed. Helen was grateful; it supplied a reason for Megan being in her room.

"I have to think about it some more," Helen said, weakly.

Sheila forgot all caution, in her haste to convince Helen.

"I worry about you so much, dear. I don't want anything to happen to you!"

"What's going to happen to her?" blurted out Yvonne, dropping her fork. She covered her mouth, embarrassed at all the attention she suddenly received. Then she sat up straight. "Tell me!" she demanded. At that moment, Helen knew that bringing the tea had been all Yvonne's own idea. They could not have discussed Helen in any great detail among themselves, or Yvonne would have known all about her.

"Vonnie, that's a private matter, and Helen will tell you if you need to know."

Yvonne looked crushed. Helen smiled blandly, as if it was a matter of no importance, and continued to eat. It was a good breakfast, if a little unusual. There were boiled vegetables, a little cooked soy protein, more tea, and fruit. Helen picked at the orange. She noticed the danger signs: she was beginning to like being here, with these strange women. They were transparent, kind, interesting, and her heart reached out to them. If she didn't get out of here, she was liable to become dependent on the good feelings she got while she was around them.

"That was wonderful," Helen said, smiling up at her hosts.

"I know it's a little weird, but I thought to myself, I bet Helen will appreciate it; so, there you are!"

"It _is_ weird, but I did enjoy it!" Helen said. She looked down at her half-empty plate. "I'm too distracted to really relax and eat," she added ruefully.

Sheila and Jennifer avoided looking at Yvonne so pointedly that Helen had to chuckle. She smiled at Yvonne, and was rewarded with a little smile of appreciation, which vanished all too quickly.

"What's going on with them?" asked Megan. They were on their way back home.

Helen took a deep breath. She had known this issue would rear its ugly head sooner or later, but she had not anticipated it happening this suddenly.

"I believe Yvonne is in love with me," said Helen. You couldn't dance around the facts with Megan.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Megan was more impatient than horrified, thankfully. "Did she say such a thing?" Helen nodded slowly. They were plodding along, all their stuff in knapsacks strapped to their backs. They hadn't brought along much, just Helen's computer—which she hadn't needed—and her clothes and her medications.

Helen waited impatiently for Megan's verdict about it.

"She's only to be pitied, the poor thing," was what she said. "She's such a pretty woman, too."

"Why pitied, Megan?" Helen asked, before she knew it. She bit her tongue. It was too late. The inflection she had put on the words made them worth far more than a paragraph.

Megan was utterly silent. She continued to walk, but her face was hidden, her eyes were fixed on the road.

"I just said what was in my heart, Dr. Nordstrom," she said in a low voice. "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn."

Helen couldn't understand, thinking on it later, how she managed to continue to walk. Her mind feverishly sought for something to say that would ease the tension. Nothing Megan said could have possibly made Helen feel hurt; what upset Helen was that Megan had been surprised, startled into an honest expression of her opinion. Helen said the first thing that seemed suitable, stumbling over the words.

"You know you don't have to be careful around me, Megan. You could never hurt me, because I know how you feel about me!"

"Miss Helen . . ."

"That's a lot better than _Dr. Nordstrom,_ now, isn't it?" Helen smiled at her awkwardly.

"Dr. Nordstrom—Miss Helen, I mean . . . I wish I had some clue—a hint, maybe—how it was, ma'am . . . nobody told me!" Her face was like a thundercloud. "Nobody gave me any _idea!"_

Helen felt wretched. She wanted to weep, but tears would not come.

"Will you leave me now?" Helen was shocked at her own voice. It was as though her body was taken over by another Helen, who knew what she was about. But it was not necessarily what she _wanted_ to be about!

"No, Miss Helen. I . . . just have to be more careful, that's all."

"But you would never know—whether I was trying to trick you into—touching me, or holding me . . ."

Megan shook her head. Helen still could not see her face, but she knew Megan was as miserable as Helen herself was.

"You would never do such a thing. I know you well."

Then the tears came. Before Helen could reach in her pocket, Megan handed her a handkerchief. "Thank you," Helen mumbled, sobbing into it.

"I love you, Megan," she sobbed, coming to a halt. "Not in that way, but . . ."

"I know, Miss Helen," Megan said softly. "I was just caught off-guard, that's all." She was acutely embarrassed, but she was saying the right things, and Helen loved her more than ever. "Now that I know, I can make things easier for you, Miss Helen."

"No, you can't! Because you'll never let me hug you, and sometimes . . . when I'm all broken up, it's just a hug from you that keeps me going! And I don't mean anything by it, just that . . . now, the way things are, you're my best friend!"

Megan put out a hand to steady her, and Helen backed away, making things worse. The two of them could not possibly have been more miserable.

"Don't cry, Miss Helen!"

"I'm not _trying_ to cry, you know!" Helen sobbed.

It was only a few seconds before Helen herself caught the humor in her words. Megan began to chuckle, and a few seconds later, Helen gave her a watery smile. She let Megan help clean her up, and with a deep breath, set off again, with Megan just a little behind.

Breathless and shaken, Helen tried to explain things to her companion.

"Come on up here, where I can see you," she commanded. Megan walked up, with a rueful smile, her eyes carefully lowered. "I like both men and women," Helen said, a trifle defensively, "it's just the way I am. I'm not ashamed of it, Megan. In Earth society, it wasn't considered as shameful as it is on the ship." Megan nodded. Helen could just imagine her thoughts: who knew what evils there were on Earth, really? "Will you keep a secret for me?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"My partner was Commander Arnaud. You know what I mean by partner?"

"I guess so, ma'am. It does make sense, now."

"Hence the children."

"Uh-huh."

They walked in silence for a while.

"When I said I love you . . ."

"You needn't explain, ma'am."

"Please let me finish, Megan. I love you like crazy, but you _do_ tend to interrupt!"

"I'm sorry!"

"You've saved my life so many times, Megan . . ."

"I don't think so, ma'am!"

"Yes, Megan, at least two times I know of. You've..."

Helen was at a loss to explain how she felt. It was particularly hard, because of the loyalty that flowed from Megan's sense of duty to the ship and to its Chief. Helen could only think of one thing at that time: if you love something enough, you must let it go. If it comes back, it's yours. If it does not, you had no right to it in the first place.

"Megan, I don't want to be your assignment. I want to be your friend! I'm going to tell Cass—Chief Holt—that something came up, and I want to release you from your obligations to me. I shall tell her that, as long as I live, I could never have a more loyal, more considerate, more responsible, more caring companion and guardian than you have been. I can't tell her how I love you, Megan. I will, but not on the record."

Megan studied the road, tight-lipped. Helen saw it, and knew there was no going back. She had just outsmarted herself. Megan was history. She felt a surge of tears threatening to drown her, but she clamped down on her feelings, and plodded on. At the halfway point, she could feel herself weakening; she needed a little something to keep going. But she refused to quit, and Megan, upset, did not realize what was happening. Somehow Helen made it home, and calmly poured herself a drink of juice, and began to sip it. Megan stood across from her, looking as pale as Helen had ever seen her. By the time she had finished her juice, Megan had gone to her room and brought out her bag of possessions. They looked at each other, and managed a smile.

"I'm not sending you away because I'm in love with you, or something," Helen stammered out.

"I understand."

"I want . . ." I want you to come back of your own free will, Helen tried to say.

"I have only good memories of my time with you, ma'am. Miss Helen." She would not meet Helen's eyes. "These have been some of the happiest days of my life."

"Then don't go!"

Megan looked at her, puzzled.

"I only wanted you to say that you didn't want to leave!" Helen wept.

"I should go, Miss Helen . . . you'll only be upset if I stayed."

"No, I won't!"

"Excuse me," murmured Megan, her face a mask of sorrow, and walked slowly out of Helen's home.

## A Replacement for Megan

Finding a replacement for Megan Barrows was an immediate priority. She had gone straight to the Chief and told her that her service with Dr. Nordstrom had become difficult for both of them.

"Why, Barrows?"

"We've grown too close, if you know what I mean, Chief. Very close. I'm finding out too many personal things about the lady, and . . . it was hard on both of us. I will go back if you insist, ma'am."

"Of course I won't insist, Barrows . . . I'm not a sadist, you know." Cass puzzled for a long while, forgetting poor Megan who sat waiting patiently. Barrows would not meet her gaze, but sat, head bowed. "She's a wonderful woman . . . I can't understand . . ."

Then Megan's composure crumbled.

"She's the most wonderful person I've met, Chief . . . it isn't that. It's more personal. I can't explain more than that."

"Is it because—well, is it something to do with her—preferences?"

Megan's face became a mask. "I don't know what you mean, ma'am."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Barrows; why can't you tell me? I'm not going to clap you in irons, if that's what you're afraid of!"

Megan looked the Chief straight in the eye.

"I worked to the best of my ability for fifteen years, Chief. I think I'm due a little respect in my assessment of whether I'm doing any good in an assignment!"

Cass wasn't cowed. She leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

"Barrows, I respect you. But I have to know. Did she do anything inappropriate to you . . . abuse her authority . . . you know? If I send a youngster out to help, will she . . . will she be at risk? You know I can't send a man!"

For the first time, Cass thought, Barrows squirmed. Then she straightened up and said firmly, "I believe a woman will be fine. And I believe she will be safe."

Cass sighed. "Thank you, Barrows," she said kindly. "Report for duty with Chief McClintock tomorrow, and then you can take a week's leave. I'll send her a note."

"Thank you, ma'am!" And Cass dismissed her.

The obvious choice was Daisy Warren, but neither Daisy nor Helen seemed too keen on it. Helen was a tall, sturdy woman, 175 pounds, or thereabouts. There weren't too many youngsters—actually, no one at all—who could catch Helen if she were to faint.

"What in heaven's name happened, Helen?" Cass asked at their weekend meeting.

"Please don't ask, Cass," Helen said, and she looked so upset, Cass was tempted to leave it alone.

"Give me a full report!"

"She was efficient, effective, responsible, well-organized . . . she was perfect!"

"And then . . . ?"

"And then . . . we came to—really care for each other. You needn't worry; it was very platonic."

Cass nodded slowly. "That was how it seemed, to me."

"She did not know—certain things about me."

"I didn't think she needed to know!"

Helen shrugged. "But she found out. By accident. I had been on my best behavior, but she found out inadvertently. Naturally I panicked, because I thought _she_ would panic. And in the fallout, I said I wanted to release her. I was hoping she would opt to come back!"

"So it was all a misunderstanding!"

"In a way, yes. Wishful thinking."

"Helen . . . if I assign someone to you, might it happen that . . . you might get emotionally involved again?"

"Yes. I guarantee it!"

"Helen! You know you _need_ someone at your side!"

"No, I don't," Helen declared, shaking her head vehemently. "The last thing I need is to have my heart strained with another senseless affair. You can't live 24 hours a day with someone without becoming emotionally involved, Cass. It's just not possible."

"We're just a few weeks away from Alpha Base, and your young lady friend. We've got to keep you healthy until then!"

"A few weeks!"

Cass nodded, grinning. "Less than a month!"

"I think I can manage that long!"

"No. You _must_ have someone."

"I'll go live with the Warrens, then."

Cass's face grew grim. "I don't think that's a good idea, especially after Lena's little adventure."

Helen's cheeks burned.

"The Dropouts. I'll go stay with them."

Cass frowned. "No, Helen. Not the Dropouts."

"That's exactly where I'm going, and please don't stop me."

Helen was received with great warmth, if not the fierce enthusiasm Helen expected. The four children were uneasy at first, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. The numbers had dropped, however, and the little community was down to nearly half its original size. Most of the teenagers had decided to leave, and had joined up as crew, or were living in group apartments, with a few elders to keep order and keep house. Lucy was gone, as was her Josh, to head a communal apartment. Helen, who saw Lucy every once in a while, had had no inkling that Lucy had abandoned her fellow-Dropouts.

"How could we turn you away? We have so few now!" said some of the older folk.

"She really wasn't a Dropout," said one old fellow, with a sigh and an affectionate smile for Helen, "but she wanted the best for us—didn't you, girl?"

Helen soothed the anxious little ones, who clung to her anxiously, as she replied, "I wanted to find out whether you folks were as violent as people thought you were." There were angry murmurs. "A friend had already told me you were not, that you were peaceable folk," she hurried on, raising her voice a little, to be heard. "And I convinced them, didn't I, that you were innocent?"

There was silence.

"And now I'm coming to you . . . because I was happy here!"

"Then why did you leave?" asked a young fellow, who was standing at the edge of the group. Helen was surrounded mostly by the older members of the camp. The young ones stood at the edge.

"Because—I love the ship, and I . . ." there were angry murmurs all round, ". . . wanted to help the ship folk!"

Helen sat proud and tall, waiting for the explosion. She had not thought this out at all. She had come here on the assumption that her good feelings for the Dropouts would be naturally reciprocated. She had forgotten the immense philosophical differences between them.

"Then what are you doing here?" asked the young fellow, into the silence. Helen had never seen him before. His voice cracked with disbelief. "Do you know where this is? Do you know what we stand for? Do you know _anything?_ "

Helen looked about for support, and found little. Diane and Athene huddled close to Helen, hiding their heads in alarm.

"I will work for you. I will cook for you. I will sing for you. I just want to live here . . . I only remember that I was happy here. I mean no harm. I can't pretend to agree with your grudges against the ship. I just want to live with you!"

The youths began to mock her, repeating her words, and Helen could bear it no longer. She got up, picked up the few belongings she had brought, and got the children ready to move out of the camp. To her slight satisfaction, some of the older women drove the obnoxious elements away with curses and imprecations. But her dream had died. She could not stay here.

Helen took a few deep breaths, and stood up. She smiled at them, embraced them one by one, and left with the children.

"Why did we go there?" Marissa asked. She was tall now, her hair trimmed to waist length, her heart-shaped face intelligent and serious. She carried her little sister Diane, while Athene insisted on walking. Diane was still upset at the hostility she had sensed. Maya was grumbling to herself, muttering vague threats against the _naughty guys._

"I thought they'd take us in," Helen said, vaguely. She needed a sweet badly, but it seemed wrong to eat something with the four children looking on. They had to reach the little convenience depot down the road.

"But we have a home, Mama!"

"Yes, darling. But . . . I need help, you know that. I'm not very well."

"But Megan will help you! You should call her back!"

"Yes, Mama! Where's Megan? Ask her to come back!"

The clamor was annoying. Every once in a while, in the last several days, they had started this _ask Megan to come back_ business. Helen hated it.

"Megan was with us only for a time, girls. Now stop that!" They fell silent. "You must learn to help each other, and help me around the house. I must learn to manage with just you and me. Summer will visit, and maybe someday Lena will visit again . . ."

"Lena's mother told her no," said Marissa quietly. "We can forget about _her._ "

It was the low point in her life. Helen felt bitter. Marissa had probably not meant it as a criticism of Helen, but it seemed so to the embattled mother. She steeled herself against the hypoglycemia. By now she had an idea about how far she could push her luck. She controlled the tears that threatened to come with the same iron will.

"Someday you will forgive your mother for the things she does," she said, more to herself than to the girls. She hoped none of them would turn and be gentle to her; if that happened, she would fall apart.

Suddenly, just as she thought she could walk no further, she saw the little store. They all hurried their tired legs. Minutes later, they were there. Helen could hardly make herself understood, her mouth would not work. She just stood there, smiling like an idiot.

"Shall I order, Mama?" Marissa asked, over the clamor of the younger ones. Helen could only nod. "One candy each, please, and a box of juice for my mother."

" _Two_ candies!"

"No, Maya, just one! Behave!" hissed Marissa. Helen could have kissed her. The man smiled at Helen, and handed her the box of juice. He must have thought she was a mute. _Were_ there mutes on board ship?

"May I have an ID, ma'am?"

Helen handed over her ID, and took the juice box into her hand, and began to open it up with shaking fingers. Marissa took it, and did it for her. Life-giving sugar flowed into her veins, and Helen clung to the counter, thanking God.

"Thank you!" she breathed to the clerk, "Thank you so much!"

"You can talk!" he exclaimed, grinning.

"Now I can, yes!"

It was a few minutes before the children had eaten their candy, drunk their juice, cleaned up, and gotten out of the store.

Helen opened the door of their apartment, and the girls filed in. Helen eyed it with deep dislike. She had established an ambiguous love-hate relationship with the place. She had come back to it perforce, and it was now a prison. Without Megan's quiet presence, it was a desert. But there were the children; they had been angels on the way from the store, despite the sugar that must have been roaring through their systems. Marissa was particularly considerate and attentive. Helen told herself that the child needed more attention. She was getting on to seven, too young for so much responsibility. The two older girls were so perfect, so good, and they weren't even her own children. The younger girls were hers, and even they were well-behaved far beyond any reasonable expectation. Of late, though, all four had been acting up, challenging Helen frequently, especially at bedtime. But there was always a point at which Marissa drew the line, and they seemed to follow her lead in quieting down.

After the little ones had been settled with a favorite game, Helen drew Marissa aside.

"You've been a wonderful girl, and a great help to me. I love you very much, and if I've neglected you, I'm very, very sorry," Helen said.

Helen tended to find Marissa's black eyes rather opaque. But at that moment their meaning was clear. Marissa loved and cared for her adopted mother.

"Don't be sorry, Mama . . . I love you, too," she said, a little predictably. "I just miss Megan."

Helen smiled. "You must miss someone else, too, don't you?"

Her eyes widened. She stared at Helen, as if she had seen a ghost. _Oh no,_ Helen thought, _what have I done?_

Marissa ran from the room, and Helen followed her. She pointed to the photograph of Melanie on Helen's mirror.

"Who is that?" Marissa asked in a whisper. "Is she real?" Her eyes were wide, with superstitious awe.

It was one blow, on top of a day of emotional punishment. Helen staggered mentally, but steeled herself to respond. She briefly rehearsed what she would do if she were to collapse, and had to depend on the girls to get her on her feet again.

"That is your real mother," Helen said softly. "She's gone on the mission, darling; she's the famous Commander Melanie Arnaud."

Marissa's eyes opened wider, if that was possible.

"Captain Arnaud! She's my _mother?_ _"_

"Yours and Maya's! Yes."

"But . . . what about you?"

"I'm . . . Auntie Helen. But when you call me Mama . . . it makes me happy," Helen said, hoping the girl's generous heart would tell her what to do.

"But . . . when will . . . Captain Arnaud come back?"

"In a few days. Three weekends more!"

"In three weekends . . . you won't be my Mama anymore?"

"I'll be . . . your Aunt Helen forever, sweetheart. Don't worry, you'll have both your parents . . . I'll remind you when it gets closer, all right?"

"We should tell Maya!"

"If you like! She's too young to understand," Helen said. She had no idea what was the right thing to do. If she had kept the memory of Melanie constantly before them, perhaps this imminent reunion would have been less strange. But Helen had believed that taking Melanie's place in their hearts would be easier on them. In hindsight, what had she learned? Perhaps she had stolen their love and their sometimes fierce loyalty under false pretenses. "Let's take this photo and put it in your room, so that you both can remember your Mama's face!"

"Captain Arnaud is my Mama!" said Marissa, her eyes glowing. The pride in that statement was incandescent. The legend of Captain Arnaud was all over the ship, and all the little boys and girls liked to pretend to be her, piloting her Cutter around and around the playgrounds. Helen watched while she reverently placed the photo into the frame of the mirror, and stuck it down with tape. She let Helen hug her, while she gazed at the photo. "She looks like me, too," she remarked, looking from her reflection to her mother's photograph and back. "Doesn't she?" she asked Helen, looking up at her.

"Exactly like you," Helen confirmed.

But a few minutes later, Marissa approached Helen again. She really was a beautiful child.

"Could you do something?"

"What, Marissa?"

"Could you ask Megan to come, just for a visit?"

Helen could feel herself trembling. It had been several weeks since Megan had left. Her arm felt so weak, she had to prop it on the table. It was nothing to do with diabetes, and everything to do with nervousness.

"Hello?"

"Megan? It's Helen."

"I recognized the number," Megan said pleasantly. "So how have you been, Dr. Nordstrom?" Helen's heart soared. There was just the right touch of humor in the question that gave her hope. It made absolutely _no sense_ to be this excited about calling Megan. Her feelings for Megan were not romantic, not now, anyway, and never would be. It was just that she loved Megan so very much, and the manner in which their relationship had ended had left a raw wound in her heart.

At one time she had wondered if it would ever be possible for her to have a platonic relationship with a woman. Now she knew the answer: not only was it possible, it was the most wonderful of all her present relationships, possibly outside what she felt for little Lena.

"Please call me Helen," she said.

"I _have_ called you Helen; you just don't remember."

"I do! You stop calling me Helen when you're mad at me."

Megan laughed, and Helen joined in.

"This is just like old times," Megan said quietly.

"The reason I called was . . . to ask if you would visit us!"

"I don't know . . ."

"The children miss you something awful, Megan."

"Helen . . . I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I come back there."

"I know; I'm so full of guilt for what happened, I can't believe I have the gall to ask you this. But I want to see you with them with every cell in my body! Perhaps that's a good reason for you not to come! But . . . there has to be some way we can be friends, and meet, and talk to each other, without this awful— _thing_ —hanging over us!"

"I could talk to them . . . over the videophone?"

Helen felt utterly let down. But it was better than nothing. The videophone was fine, as far as it went: ten megapixels of video data was far superior to the video Helen had been accustomed to on Earth. But chips and transistors had become hard to manufacture, and it was a great privilege to own a full-scale monitor as Helen did.

"You're sure you won't consider . . . ?"

"One step at a time, Miss . . . Helen."

"I'll go get them!"

Helen hurried to the hall, and took the call. "Girls!" she called, "Megan is on the phone! Come round and talk to her!"

" _Megan!"_ cried the twins, her greatest fans. They came running, and the other two hurried up behind them, and by the time Helen had completed the connection, all four faces were staring at the monitor from inches away. The camera was hidden behind the center of the screen, with the miracle of technology, so that each party imagined they were looking right at the other.

Megan's familiar face smiled out from the screen, making the girls squeal with pleasure. For Helen, it only increased her sense of loss.

"Hello, girls," Megan said, her voice hardly revealing the delight she was clearly feeling. Helen could tell from her expression that she was as hungry for contact with the children as they were for her. "Have you been good, then?"

"Yes, but why won't you come and see us?"

"I—I will, I will, as soon as I can get away," Megan said. "I'm just too busy!"

"Megan, did you know something? Our mother is _Captain Arnaud!"_

"She _is not_ , liar!" said Maya, quick as lightning.

"She _is,_ so _shut up!"_ said Marissa, fiercely.

" _Is_ she, Mama?" asked Maya, turning to Helen. "She's lying, right?"

"No, darling, she isn't lying; Melanie Arnaud is truly your mother," said Helen, her smile wavering. "Don't fight about it, please!"

"That's correct, girls," said Megan. "Captain Arnaud had to go on the Cutter, so she asked Helen to keep her little girls, because the Cutter is not built for little people. You know that, don't you?"

All four heads nodded wisely.

"So she found the best person to look after them, and that was Helen. And you forgot that you were Melanie's little girls, but there is a picture in Helen's room . . ."

" _I_ took it! She gave it to me! To me and Maya," said Marissa triumphantly. "It's in our room, now!"

"Is it? Keep it carefully then, girls. And at bedtime, to whom do you say, goodnight, Mama?"

"To Helen," said Marissa, snaking her arm affectionately round Helen's neck, and the others gave Helen a hug too.

Helen smiled ruefully at the monitor. "This was _not_ the point of the call, Megan!"

Megan only laughed.

# Year 78: The Planet

## The Surface

The forward monitor became the most popular channel on the ship. On the highest-resolution screens, the planet could be made out easily, ever more clearly as the ship rounded it into high orbit. When the ship got close enough to see the dayside of the planet, and the ship's own rotation was stepped up so that it was heated evenly on all sides, all activity was stopped, and faces were glued to monitors and to the observation windows, to take in as much of the planet as possible. Inevitably, a gasp went out from every throat, as there was a clearly visible glint, the bubble, a speck of light on the dark brown surface. It was a mere speck, but suddenly it was as if the ship remembered what it was. Only a few die-hard Dropouts stubbornly went about their work. The impulse to look at the man-made structure on the planet surface was almost irresistible.

Video signals from the surface were first monitored at mission control, where Helen was back as a communicator. Before there was video broadcast to the ship, the top leadership wanted to make sure there were no unpleasant surprises.

Helen asked the first few opening questions, putting the crew at ease.

"You look wonderful, a sight for sore eyes!" said Helen, from the heart. Melanie sat in the middle of the group, six of them seated around her, six standing behind her, and five on the floor. One of them was just visible, manning the console off to the right.

"It's good to see you too, Helen," Melanie said. Her voice had dropped considerably, and she looked startlingly different. Her face seemed wider, her eyes larger, her jaw squarer, her figure thinner.

"We can see some of the structures through the window; it's still too far away to see naked eye."

"Yes," said Melanie, indicating the view behind them, "most of the taller structures are the factories, and the low, squat structures are the mines. They're a bit noisy, when you're inside, but we spend a lot of time inside them, anyway!" There was laughter.

"Water? Heat? Food? Is it comfortable down there? Are you ready for a change of diet?"

"No; it's comfortable, and Chisako has been growing almost everything we grow on the ship: soy, corn, rice, alfalfa, potatoes. We began cultivating long before the food was exhausted. We've even celebrated some birthdays with cakes, and everything!"

"We're going to relay videos from your families as soon as debriefing is over. Here's the Chief!"

"Thanks for everything, Helen! We'll be seeing you!"

Helen sat aside, her smile frozen on her face. She could not get over the sight of Melanie. Three years after they had parted, they were almost strangers. Someone pressed a bottle into her hand, and she drank from it automatically, as Cass began her preliminary debriefing of the crew. Helen pulled herself up, holding the drink, untethered herself, and moved out to the little pantry off of the communications room. Only Diane and Athene were there, watching the proceedings with little interest. Soon the video would be piped everywhere on the ship. Helen could hardly feel anything. She felt excited at the prospect of possibly being allowed to go down to the planet. But all they could do on this planet was to mine it. It had lost all its atmosphere, and almost all its water, and it was very difficult to think of it as the future home of the colonists. They would ferry up as much material as they could use, and set out again. They might remain here a year, maybe two at the most. Just enough to remind the ship population of what a planet was like.

## Reunion

The day before the Cutter was to bring Melanie back to the ship, Helen called Megan once more.

"May I come visit you?" she asked, after she had spoken a while.

"Sure," Megan said. "I think I can handle it this time."

"You're taking a big risk, Megan!" she tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.

"This is no time to come apart, Helen. Too many people are depending on you."

"This is when they stop having to depend on me!" Helen said, her voice sounding harsh in her own ears.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at a little restaurant near the elevator. Binky's."

"I'll be right there."

A few minutes later, they were hugging each other. Megan's solidness made Helen sag with relief. A few customers looked at them, puzzled, not recognizing either of them. Megan wore a cardigan over a heavy calf-length dress, and Helen had worn jeans and a flannel shirt. She had forgotten how rock-like Megan felt. Helen finally let her go, and got her seated close to her.

"You look good in a dress," she said, sincerely. She wore flat boots, which made her look a little odd, but under the cardigan, the boat-necked dress made her look more feminine.

"Thanks," said Megan, coloring a little. She was pretty when she blushed, but Helen was careful not to needle her. "Helen . . . why did you call me over?"

"Melanie's coming home in a few hours."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"We've become strangers, Megan. She looks different, talks different . . . I'm so afraid, I think I'm going to be sick when she comes through the airlock!"

"You know I'm in charge of them until they're through decontamination?"

"I had forgotten," Helen confessed. "I wish you could do some magic, and change her back!"

Megan looked at her gravely.

"Two years, away from friends and family . . . I never stopped to think how—hard it would be."

"And I allowed her to go! I was such a fatheaded fool!" Helen bit out, gritting her teeth in anger at herself. "But what could I do? I would have gladly gone in her place! I would have been some use, then. I'm so _useless._ "

"I could have gone."

Helen looked at Megan, startled. "Did they ask you?"

"Yeah."

"So why didn't you go?"

"Andy."

Helen felt bitter tears threatening to emerge. That Andy should command such loyalty, while she, Helen Nordstrom, could not persuade her lover to stay with her! The fact that Helen loved Megan so much only made things worse. Was Helen's love worth nothing, then?

Megan forestalled the angry words that Helen was getting ready.

"You can't compare me to Captain Arnaud," she said, laying her huge hand over Helen's clenched fist. "She was totally committed. I would have been nothing but a worker. I had no engineering skills; I'm just a specialist in zero- _g_ procedures, Helen. I'm no use on a planet."

They sat a long time, customers came and went. Helen's phone was disconnected, and the children were with Daisy. Megan's closeness began to make Helen feel better than she had felt in weeks. She began to fantasize about maybe someday convincing Megan that there were worse things than being loved by a woman such as her. In time, her hormones would let her be, and then a touch, a hug, a kind word would matter more to her than all the sex in the world. But Megan had her Andy, and they were so incredibly, wonderfully happy that Helen would rather kill herself than jeopardize their happiness.

"Why did you go away, Megan?"

Megan drew her hand away, and took a deep breath.

"You would never understand," she said, with difficulty.

"Try me!"

Megan shook her head. Helen pestered her for half an hour. Then, with the greatest reluctance, Megan explained. She had been _normal,_ in her words, all of her life. When she learned about Helen, she had begun to wonder whether her affection for Helen meant that she was . . . abnormal too. Helen opened her mouth to protest, but a warning glance made her keep quiet.

"You'll get your chance. But let me finish." Helen nodded. "Only you could make me tell you things like this," Megan said, beads of perspiration covering her face. "I sometimes find myself imagining . . . what it's like. I never planned to tell you that, but . . . now I can't stop. I don't usually talk dirty, like this! What I do with Andy—we just do it! We don't _talk_ about it. You know?" Helen nodded, suffering with Megan, but dizzy with the knowledge that Megan trusted her so much. "It makes me sick, to think of doing . . . whatever. But—what I feel for you—it's like what I feel for the children, only more. Far more! I'm so confused . . . and I'm afraid."

Helen sighed.

"I feel for you, love, but, my first girl . . . it was so natural, so wonderful, it never felt disgusting for one second. We're very different kinds of people."

"I know that!"

"But you're getting upset over nothing!"

Megan looked at Helen, deeply hurt. "I should have realized you wouldn't understand!"

"But I _do!_ Listen! Have you ever felt this way about another girl?"

"No."

"There you are! You're absolutely straight!"

Megan began to smile. It was a slow thing, as the realization slowly rolled over her. The serenity that was her hallmark, and which Helen just realized had been conspicuous by its absence, settled on the big woman like a cloak. She settled back and heaved an enormous sigh of satisfaction.

"I would have thought you'd be disappointed!"

Helen smiled, her eyes bright. She could face tomorrow now. The tears of joy were inevitable. It was just hard to persuade Megan that they were indeed tears of joy.

It was around ten in the morning that the cutter approached the Voyager. It gradually drew closer to the larger ship, with Melanie once again at the controls. Helen could see her face close-up, strained, her jaw clenched. The others sat behind, only Alan sat in the co-pilot's seat, ready to pull away if anything went wrong. Helen glanced back and forth between the stern monitors and the signal from the cutter. Her hands gripped the arm-rests, her feet pressed against the floor, reflexively urging the Cutter into position for docking. But Melanie managed it like a pro. The airlock clanged shut, and Helen closed her eyes in relief.

The previous day, Melanie had had a good long look at the two children who had been born in her absence. She had been sent photographs of them, but she said that nothing could compare to this sight of them. The children were in the observation lounge, looking through the glass, just yards away from where Melanie would come through the doors. But she would be taken straight through to the decontamination unit, and they would meet her only a few minutes later.

Helen had a few minutes to get there. She was all alone. At this moment, all her friends were elsewhere, busy. Helen hurried into the waiting elevator, and it took off immediately, as she fumbled for the tethers. Everyone had forgotten that she had given birth to Captain Arnaud's baby. It wasn't the sort of thing people thought about much; after all, Arnaud was a woman.

The high-speed elevator took a good twenty minutes to get there. Chelsea was with Helen, but everybody else was already at the South end, waiting for the crew to emerge.

When they arrived, the crew was already out, and were on their knees, greeting the children. Melanie had the strangest look on her face, as she held out her arms to the two little girls. Athene was the one who went to her first, and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. Diane followed her lead, a little disconcerted by Melanie's intensity.

"Mama?" Marissa was saying, softly.

"Marissa? Oh god, look at you! And Maya!"

Helen had agonized, wondering if this meeting would go well. Back against the wall, Helen noticed Megan, watching her, her eyes kind. Then she realized Melanie was staring at her.

Melanie had become drop-dead beautiful. She was painfully thin, but her face had been refined, purified, polished into the face of an angel. She came to Helen, her eyes unseeing. She tilted her face up, and pulled Helen down to her. She had grown very strong; her kiss was no shy peck. It was the kiss of someone who kissed often and thoroughly. Helen did her best to respond to the passion there.

"Did you miss me?" whispered Melanie, the children standing round them, faces tilted up, their expressions looking mildly stunned.

"Yes," nodded Helen.

"What's wrong with you? Anyone would think _you're_ the one just returned to her family!"

Helen laughed.

"Do you get to come home with us?"

"Not yet. I'll be with you in half an hour. We have to hand in a written report."

"We'll wait."

Melanie nodded, and her smile was the unfamiliar smile of the commander of a mission. Helen wondered whether she could ever learn to love this woman again.

A half-hour later, Melanie looked more normal in her familiar clothes. Marissa was beginning to remember her, and Maya, too, seemed to have accepted her. They were walking down to the apartment, Melanie looking around eagerly, remarking on all the changes she noticed.

"There seem to be a lot of Ocies!" she exclaimed, a little too loudly.

"Yes, they shut Ocean down, remember I told you?"

"Oh, yes, I remember. A lot of hardship, huh?"

"Yes. Most of them are happily settled, now."

"Will they open it up again? I'd like to see the old place!"

"I imagine they will," Helen said.

Melanie grinned at her. "I had forgotten how you talk! Oh Helen, it's so good to see you, girl!"

A little later, Melanie was busy trying to make friends with the two youngest girls. They consented to sit in their little chairs, facing her, and to interview their new 'mother.'

"What's your name?" Diane asked her, and when Melanie replied, Athene wanted to know her age. "We're two," she volunteered, in a fair exchange of statistics.

"I know you are," Melanie said. "Your Mama Helen wrote to me in the cutter, and said, I have two new babies, and you can see them when we meet you later!"

"And here we are!" said Athene, laughing.

Melanie looked at Helen wide-eyed. "They're awfully mature for their age, aren't they?"

Helen nodded and rolled her eyes. She didn't like people talking about the children as if they weren't there. Melanie was no exception.

At least none of the kids was reacting adversely. Maya was the only one who was being very cautious. Every once in a while, she would go stand by Helen, staring at Melanie suspiciously. But a moment later she would frolic with the newcomer.

Melanie went over the whole house, pacing about with pent-up energy. She got food out, ate some of it, and went out to look at something else. Then she would come back and take out something else to eat, and leave it half-eaten. It drove Helen mad. Then seeing Helen seated on the sofa, she came over, and pushed her down and straddled her.

"You're like a caged tiger," Helen said, half afraid. The familiar face hanging over her changed for a moment into the face of the woman she had fallen in love with. "I want the old Melanie back," she said, as Melanie removed her glasses and stared into her eyes.

"You have to give me time," she said, and it _was_ the old Melanie. "I've changed a lot, Helen . . . I have so many stories to tell you . . . love . . . sex . . . pain . . ."

"I'm sorry, love," Helen whispered, "I should have been more tactful!"

"No. I want to be able to trust you. Say what you feel. Let's start that way. If I can't deal with it, we'll try lies. You're still beautiful, and the children are beautiful! So well-behaved . . . I'm so proud of them!" She began to cry silently, her tears falling on Helen's face. "I'm going crazy, Helen! After walking about on the planet, I can't deal with— _this!_ It's like a cage! I want to go out there!"

Helen began to laugh and cry at once.

"You laughed when I told you the same thing!"

"Yes, yes, yes! Come on, let's go to bed!"

"But the children?"

"Let's send for . . . Daisy, maybe?"

Alison came, with Summer.

Helen and Melanie disappeared into their room, and made mad love for hours. It was a process of reacquainting themselves with each other. They'd make love for twenty minutes, and then they'd exchange stories for half an hour, and then it was more lovemaking.

Melanie had bigger appetites than Helen remembered. She wanted Helen to do things to her that they had indulged in rarely or never.

Late that night, when the rest of the household—including Alison and Summer—were asleep, Helen stumbled out of bed, and pulled on the negligee Melanie had insisted that she wear.

"You coming?" Helen asked, still dewy-eyed with their lovemaking.

"Where are you going?"

"To get something to drink, and . . . use the bathroom— _you_ know!"

"Oh come on! What's all that about?"

Helen was shocked. It was something that the old Melanie would never have said. She made no move to come along. "I'll be right back," Helen said, smiling a little doubtfully. Melanie lay face down on the sheet, completely naked and sated. Every muscle was etched and defined, and deeply tanned, with some unexpected freckles on her back. She was clean-shaven. She had told Helen how it had come to be so; Shaun had wanted her that way.

Helen got her drink; it was rarely that she needed a drink in the night. She finished her business and went back. Melanie was watching the door, and stirred seeing her.

"I'm sorry I . . . was mean to you!"

Helen sat down on the edge of the bed.

"It's all right," she said, "you were used to a bunch of rough guys out there . . . I hoped you might connect with one of the girls . . ."

Melanie gave a cynical snort.

"I never got to touch her. The men were all over us the whole time."

"That's so unfair! They never stopped to think whether . . ."

"On this ship there's just two kinds of people, Helen. Men, and women."

"My poor darling!" Helen sympathized deeply with Melanie's experience and her reaction to it. Melanie clung to her, and began to weep softly. They made love more tenderly, the way Helen had remembered it.

It was almost daylight when they finally lay spent.

"You smell funny," Melanie said in a whisper, her black eyes enormous pools, inches from Helen's own. "I missed your smell when I was away!"

"It's the drugs," Helen said, taking no offense. "By morning I'm kind of saturated with them."

"Aren't we a funny pair!"

They rubbed noses.

"You were pretty when you left," Helen said, "but now . . . you're gorgeous! What's happened to you?"

"I don't know . . . what's so gorgeous?"

"The look in your eyes. Your mouth . . . I don't know! I could eat you!"

Melanie giggled. Then the joy drained out of her face. "I hit such a low point . . . even when I was just sleeping with Alan . . . I thought I would be spoiled for you forever." Helen could feel her trembling. "I hated myself . . . and I loved myself so hard, it was like hanging by a thread. And Chisako helped—I could see myself through her eyes." Helen held her tight, and her trembling subsided. "I never expected that it would be such a zoo!" Melanie absently played with Helen's breast. "In the daytime—most of the time, it was pretty much the way I had imagined it: official duties, planning, solving problems, exploring. In the nights . . ." She shuddered. "It was raw, uncivilized, emotionally oppressive, humiliating. I was too weak to deal with that . . . that kind of madness."

"Chisako was supposed to have helped!"

"But we weren't ready! It was as though as soon as we were on our own, the guys decided it was playtime. Just Alan and Ole, and a couple of the others were decent and good. Poor little Spencer; he stuck so close to me, I wanted to take a gun to the rest of them. It was not right!"

"Did you tell them all this?"

"I told the Chief. If I'm asked, I'll tell them all. It could mean a court-martial for a lot of them."

She was thoughtful for a while after she said that. Then she sighed. "I can't do that. I can't betray him."

"Whom?"

"Shaun."

The next several days were very difficult for Helen and Melanie. The children warmed up to her, all except little Maya, who clung to Helen, refusing to go to her mother. She smiled at Melanie, but that was as far as she would go. Melanie cried at that, heartbroken. She had been her mother's favorite, her baby, and now they were no more than mere friends.

Melanie showed great patience. She read Maya and the babies bedtime stories, and supplanted Helen as the bedtime story-teller of choice for them all. Maya was willing to give Melanie just about as much affection as she gave Megan, maybe a tad less. But Maya rather cruelly and pointedly called Helen 'Mama', and Melanie only by name.

"You mustn't blame me; I didn't do it consciously!" Helen protested one night. "I feel terrible at the way she treats you!"

"Can't she _see_ that I'm her mother?" Melanie cried.

"Who knows?" Helen replied.

They settled down, their arms about each other, communing with touches and embraces, making up for all the time they had missed. Helen had spent hours of agony over the months they had been apart, wondering how long it would take Melanie to exorcize all her demons and re-establish her emotional bond with Helen. It had only taken hours. Melanie had suffered unbelievable mental torture, but their love had been strong enough to wash away all that trauma. Helen still could not believe how happy they were together. Certainly it wasn't any merit of hers; Helen's own emotions had been occupied with Megan, and Daisy, and the Connors women. But Melanie, so weak and ineffectual out on the base—at least in matters of the heart—became a tower of strength once reunited with Helen.

Each night it always started out with these hugs and kisses, and they went on to talk over everything that were on their minds. Their passion slowly grew, until it was released with lovemaking, after which they talked some more, verbal after-play, and slipped into sleep. Tonight, they talked about what to do with Maya, and Melanie finally said she would leave it the way it was. "It's a good trade: Athene likes me, and Maya likes you!"

"You're so sweet!"

Melanie smiled, and kissed Helen's face several times.

"I love the children so much . . . they're all so like you, even—the older ones! They've got your attentiveness. The way they listen, their heads on one side . . . that's so _you!_ It's funny! Four little Helens, listening to the bedtime stories! It's really too much sometimes!"

Helen felt a glow inside her. The children _had_ picked up some of her mannerisms. But they were a good mixture. Melanie and she were similar to begin with, far more than she had realized. Their contrasting body types had disguised the underlying similarity that had drawn them to each other.

"Sheila Connors says you have perfect genes," Helen said, mischievously. That started a whole new conversation that kept them talking all night.

## Hypoglycemia

The first time Helen had a hypoglycemic episode after Melanie came back was on the way back from school. They had picked up Marissa and Maya, and were walking slowly home. Suddenly Helen set Diane down, and collapsed on the side of the road.

"Oh no, oh no!" cried Marissa, shaking her hands in great consternation. Then she stopped, and knelt to root about in Helen's purse. Helen simply lay against a tree, ineffectually floundering around, looking dazed and a little embarrassed. The little girls came to stand close to Helen, looking mildly worried. They had seen this scene too often to be alarmed. Maya grabbed hold of Helen's hand and squatted close, murmuring words of comfort and concern.

Marissa found the sugar pill, and popped it into Helen's mouth. With a moan, Helen managed to unclench her jaw and eat the pill.

Melanie was stunned. She watched as the children ministered to Helen, and got her back on her feet.

Helen clung to Melanie for a few moments, feeling miserable. There was no way to avoid these episodes, and each one surely put her at risk in ways she did not even want to guess.

"It isn't as bad as it looks," she murmured to Melanie. "Just hold me for a bit, love."

Melanie was very angry. "What . . . Did you just have a fit? Have you told anyone about it?"

"Mama, she just needs to have sugar, that's all!"

Melanie ignored Marissa, and focused on the only adult there: Helen.

"Was that what she fed you, a sugar pill?"

"Yes, Melanie; that's what I've taught her!"

"But isn't that bad for you?"

"In an emergency," Helen said, with a sigh, "sugar is what I usually need. I'll explain later!"

They began to walk home. Athene and Diane trudged along hand in hand, with Marissa and Maya on either side. Helen gently pushed Melanie away, protesting she was fine for the moment. Melanie quizzed her implacably all the way home. How often did it happen? What had happened the other times? Who attended to her? What happened to the children? Was there no way to stop it?

Melanie's first thought was that Helen should give up work. She had climbed on top of Helen, held her head in her hands and was telling her very forcefully that she had to give up teaching.

"You're not alone anymore. I'm here, and I want you well, able to give me what I want, and give the children what they need! Bachelor days are over, Helen!"

She was so like little Maya, Helen had to suppress a grin. Maya had often climbed on her as she lay on the rug, and talked at her just this way, nodding vehemently.

"You won't like me if I did that, love," Helen said softly.

"How did you _manage?_ Was Megan with you the whole time?"

Helen sighed, and told her more about how Megan had helped her.

"In bed with you?"

"Just . . . in bed, Mel; nothing ever happened! I wanted to. But . . . it never happened." Helen went on to tell her all, every little detail.

"I wish you two had . . . had some pleasure together," Melanie said, her voice full of sorrow. "I was having sex with . . . two men; and I had assumed you would find someone. I was so sure you would!"

Helen caressed her face. "I know myself too well. And in the end, I loved Megan too much to force it! I love her dearly, Melanie. She's the big, cuddly teddy-bear of a girl I've always wanted to have!"

"Do you love her more than me?"

It was a childish question, the one Helen never expected, but the one she did expect in her bones.

"Not in the same way, Mel."

She nodded and looked down at Helen's breast, exposed beneath her, and laid her palm flat on the center of it, where she could feel the beating of Helen's heart.

"Your heart is too big to love just me," she said at last. Helen pulled her close and held her tight. It was the kindest way of expressing it.

Melanie had come back a hero. Her honors and decorations were awarded in a large public ceremony at which Helen and the children were given a place of honor. That was as far as the ship would go toward acknowledging the bond between the two women. Melanie was dressed beautifully and simply in a beautiful long dark skirt and tunic, in the blue and gold of the service, but not a uniform. There was an invited audience of about a hundred, and a special choir of school children, who were Melanie's greatest admirers. Helen was touched when Melanie brought the Order of the Rudder, the particular honor she had been awarded as a civilian on a service mission, and given it ceremonially to Helen. She drew Helen to her feet, and presented her to the audience, to their cheers. Cass had followed up with a brief speech that had described the ways in which Helen had enabled Melanie to excel as Commander of the mission, principally by bringing up her children. No mention was made that she had actually given birth to one of them. In the audience was Sheila Connors and her daughters, who had insisted on being there. Afterwards, in the receiving line, Helen was embraced and kissed by all three of the Connors women, whom she introduced to her partner with an unexpected feeling of pleasure. Yvonne looked lovely in a midnight-blue gown that showed off her pretty face to perfection, while Jennifer looked cute in a fall-colored dress.

Sheila herself was much taken with Melanie on that occasion.

"So you're the famous Captain Arnaud, then!"

"Yes, ma'am!" replied Melanie.

"You know who I am?"

"Yes, indeed, ma'am! I'm very grateful for all you've done for us both! Helen has told me most of it. I'm sure there's more!"

Sheila nodded, her face softened with a twisted smile. "It's a privilege to meet you, young lady!"

"Likewise," Melanie murmured, feeling a little picked on.

There were many other admirers, the last of whom was Megan. After bending to hug each of the children, Megan approached Melanie first. "Melanie, you know Megan Barrows!"

"Of course!" Melanie said, and was folded in Megan's characteristic hug.

"Congratulations!" she said gruffly.

"I want to thank you for everything," Melanie said gravely.

"She's a wonderful lady," Megan said, head held proudly. She was in uniform tonight, in deep blue, gold and white. Knowing how Megan felt about it, Helen felt safe in admiring how smartly the ship's dress uniform sat on Megan. The knife-edge creases on Megan's pants were the smartest in the room. Helen smiled at her fondly, but Megan looked directly at Melanie, honoring the woman who had been honored by the Service. "You're . . . a lucky woman, Commander."

They shook hands. It was funny how a hug never supplanted a handshake in the service. It was another world, a world that had accepted Melanie, and in which she moved with some reluctance, but a lot of grace.

Melanie was made a fuss of at the Collegium, when she came with Helen on that first day. There were dozens of autographs to sign, and paeans of praise to listen to, but Melanie soon tired of it. Within a few days, she signed back on as an elementary teacher. It made Helen smile, but Melanie was happy in that job. She was settled in as a relief teacher with an elementary school at the opposite end of the segment.

Unfortunately, Melanie was also _the_ expert on the venture on the planet surface below. At night, Cass and Greg and the various other ship managers spent hours and hours consulting with Melanie. While her tour of active duty, as it were, was over, she was too precious a resource to allow to disappear into civilian anonymity.

"We've got thirty down there, at the moment," Cass mused. "Charles Grimaldi is going down as soon as the next group is ready for the exchange. I wish you could have stayed down there to get this next lot settled in, Melanie."

Melanie gave Cass a strange look that the others could only guess the meaning of. "I've paid my dues, Chief. It does not really need me to run smoothly."

"Oh, here's young Chang, now, and Grimaldi. Charles, Joe, this is Captain Arnaud."

The two men who arrived were in their late thirties, one a mineralogist, the other a nuclear scientist. They shook hands, and in a short time the conversation was too technical for Cass. But she sat and listened, her face fixed in an intense frown of concentration, as Melanie answered numerous questions in the kind of detail that did not make it into an administrative report. Yes, the Uranium deposits were close to the surface. No, the living quarters were not close to it, yes, there was radiation shielding, no it was not all round; it was more a kind of barrier.

A couple of days later, it was the environmental people, and Alison McClintock. Had they been taking the iodine supplement? Was there shielding from ultraviolet radiation from the star? Was there evidence of cosmic ray bombardment? Had Melanie submitted to a full medical examination?

"You should speak to Chisako, too," Melanie said, looking very unhappy. "You're getting a very one-sided picture of it from me!"

"Yes, dear," Alison said patiently, "but I've spoken to Chisako, and you're a much better reporter. I'm not asking you to spy on the others, I just want to know the kind of detail that the others have never noticed."

"Well, the plastic seemed to do a good job of filtering out some kinds of radiation; there were no skin eruptions, no skin burn."

"The second team is reporting some. Apparently some of the paint was getting discolored. That has to be very strong sunlight levels, to discolor paint in a little over a year!"

"Oh, I noticed the paint." Melanie shrugged. Nobody had warned her that it was a big deal when paint faded in the light of the sun.

As a result of these meetings, Helen became very anxious about Melanie's health, and insisted that she be seen by the medical center for a thorough checkup, which had been only done once before for her, when she was about thirteen. The medical checkup she had received prior to the mission had been rather a peremptory affair. (Sheila and her team had given her a much more rigorous inspection, but Melanie did not know that.) Helen asked Ted himself to examine her, while she was present.

Melanie hated every minute of it, but she submitted to the indignity for Helen's sake.

Sure enough, Ted found some rather alarming signs of things he did not quite understand. "It's better to really find out, no matter how unpleasant it is," he muttered, and began to research it. He whistled as he consulted his database, and got a response.

"Why? What's up?"

Ted had to make sure. He called Sheila, the expert. Over the phone she got as much information as she could, and the rest was sent out electronically over the system.

"I guess we could go home, now, couldn't we?" Melanie asked hopefully.

"This won't take long, Ted, keep them there," came Sheila's voice over the speaker.

Melanie's eyes widened. "That fast?"

Ted turned off the audio, frowning. "It usually takes a day or two." He was seated on a stool in his lab coat, his hair ruffled, looking uncannily like a teenager who'd been caught on his way to a party and been made to save a hurt baby bird. He had the same gentle eyes as Cass, and the same long eyelashes that curled up. "If she drops everything, she could have it done in half an hour, I suppose."

"Oh, she shouldn't! Tell her it's not that urgent!" said Helen, looking upset.

But it _was_ urgent, said Ted. Because there could be implications for the health of the team down on the surface now. The women paled. He could tell that Helen was ahead of him.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later the call light started blinking. Sheila spoke to all of them, her eyes wide with concern.

"I did a very thorough check, and it's bad news. I've verified this with a secondary method using—well, it doesn't matter. You have cancer of the skin. You have to come up with a plan, but the people on the planet have to be warned, Ted."

"Cancer! What is that? It sounds terrible!"

Melanie went rapidly into a tailspin. Unused to anything but the near-perfect health everyone enjoyed on the ship, she unguardedly looked at Helen, as if she were the cause of this disease. She immediately realized that it had nothing to do with her, but Helen had seen the look, and blanched in reaction to it. Then Melanie got a grip on herself, and asked what happened next.

Melanie was upset all day. She was quiet with the children, not her usual cheerful self. Picking up on her mood, the children were subdued, watching her with eyes full of concern, Maya most of all. Helen took her aside and tried to distract her, but she was plainly too upset about her mother to pay much attention to Helen.

That night, Melanie was in a strange mood. When Helen put her arms around her she heaved a huge shuddering sigh.

"I've failed, Helen, failed, failed, failed."

Helen, expecting her to talk about the cancer diagnosis, was surprised.

"Failed? Why, darling?"

"Down there . . . oh, if only you could have gone! _No!_ No, I didn't mean that," she whispered, holding Helen tight. "You have enough to deal with, without— _this,_ too . . . Are you sure it isn't—are you sure that it's safe for us to be together?"

"Yes, of course it is," Helen said impatiently. "What are you _talking_ about? How could _my_ going have made a difference? You did an _amazing_ job of it! _Everybody_ says so!"

"But . . . look, if something down there caused this . . . _disease,_ then—maybe the others have it too! Oh Helen! I failed in _so many ways!_ "

She was more than depressed; she was distraught. Melanie felt that an important part of her responsibility on the surface was the _esprit de corps_ of the team, the important social and philosophical health of the group, the climate of tolerance and harmony she felt was an important feature of the work environment. What the relief teams would find when they got down there was precisely the opposite: intolerance, prejudice, victimization, division. It was hidden from the ship so far, but quite plain once one arrived on the surface. No one had spoken of it to the shipboard authorities, evidently, except Melanie, and they didn't take her seriously.

"How bad can it be?" Helen asked. "Do they really bully everyone?"

"It's very subtle, until they've had a little to drink. It never gets violent, but it does get vicious. There's violence hanging over everything, a kind of psychic violence. It was some of the guys, and—Barb Allman, to some degree . . ."

"You couldn't have done anything about it," Helen consoled her. "You were young, how could you lay down the law?"

"I _was_ the law! I could have said we'd abort the mission!" Helen was silent. "I wanted so badly to succeed, I . . . I . . . in hindsight, I sacrificed my humanity for the sake of the mission."

"Where—where did you learn this jargon?"

"Chisako. We analyzed everything. Oh Helen . . . by the time I realized how putrid it was, our little society on the planet, once I let Shaun and his bullies—and the Brunos—terrorize us, I . . ."

Helen could smell the nausea Melanie was feeling. She shushed her, and held her, telling her how much she loved her, and that nothing mattered. No one, Helen told her, _no one_ could have done better. But Melanie only sobbed that she so wanted to do well. Helen was filled with an impotent rage that they had sent down four women with fifteen men, some of them gentle, innocent women such as Chisako, totally unprepared for the kind of male misconduct that Helen had learned to handle as a matter of routine in college. In the Service environment that dominated life in the academies on board ship, there was not the slightest tolerance of licentious behavior. When the young men found themselves no longer under continuous surveillance, they threw out all their discipline.

Helen blamed herself that she should have seen it coming. But she _had_ seen it coming. She had hated the thought of Melanie going on the mission; she had only not warned Melanie of the possibilities Helen herself had taken for granted. Did she consciously choose to keep silent, not wanting to spoil the general optimism with her doom-saying? Had she simply forgotten that social dynamics on the ship were strongly influenced by the gentle paternalism of Ship culture?

At any rate, Melanie was destroyed, mentally and physically. Helen swore to herself that nothing would distract her from seeing her love restored to something like her pre-mission health of mind and body. Skin cancer was not dangerous, she was almost certain it wasn't lethal, anyway. If Sheila couldn't dream up some treatment, she, Helen, would look through the database and the Archives and find it.

## The Planet

Precautions were taken to protect those on the planet surface from the radiation of Phoebus, after every one of the nineteen original team members developed skin cancer to various degrees. Melanie's was the second worst case, after Shaun's; they had spent the most time fooling around naked in the dome when the sun was high, and the others were off reading or amusing themselves during the heat of the long planetary afternoon. They were all eventually cured, though Chisako's and Melanie's faces showed signs of slight permanent scarring. A thin layer of gold on the bubble proved effective, an idea stolen from the EVA equipment, and brought to Melanie's attention by Megan.

Melanie was, inevitably, created the civilian supervisor of the planetary operation, and Helen conscripted as a consultant. There were two parts to the operation: mining, and education. The energy team was an important third group who was interested in fuel sources, of course. But they were involved more passively. There was great interest in exploration, geography, mapping, terraforming and agriculture, not for their own sake, but for the sake of building up an archive of experience on which to base training and education when a viable planet _was_ found. This was not a viable planet; while plants seemed to thrive in the greenhouses, livestock did not do well. Helen supervised a small chicken farm, which did moderately well, and produced about a hundred chickens, and eggs, for the curious to taste. But she had to slaughter them herself; no one cared to help her. She finally gave up in disgust. Few ship folk cared for chicken, though eggs were much in demand.

Soon after Melanie was diagnosed with cancer, Helen brought up the issue of discipline and safety of women on the surface. She faced down Cass and her colleagues, and insisted that something had to be done about it. The obvious suggestion was that Helen should go down with Alison, observe conditions on the surface, and make a report.

Cass was opposed to it, unwilling to endanger Helen, but everyone, including Ted and Sheila, were certain that Helen could do it without risk. "She needs someone for protection, but I really don't think there'd be any physical threat from any of the men. I think it's blown a little out of proportion," said Jeannie.

"I don't," said Sheila at once. "But if you sent that Megan Barrows with her, any man would think twice."

Cass brightened at that idea. Maybe Megan would consider it. Megan was not a man-hater—neither Helen nor Alison was, either. Melanie should have gone, but she was in treatment. It was a treatment based on Sheila's nutrient-bath method, and she was immersed in a converted space-suit filled with some liquid. She couldn't go far from the filters that trailed Melanie in a dolly, connected to the suit.

They were just about to send down a group of middle-school students, including Summer. A large number of kids of that age were eager to go, and Cass could not in good conscience let them, without dealing with the issue. She had not believed the situation was so bad, but she was beginning to suspect there might be something to it. The Arnaud woman was not a whiner, and she was more indignant about the suffering of her fellow female personnel on the mission than herself. But she was young . . .

Accordingly, as soon as the shielding was in place, a cutter brought up a dozen workers to be rotated out, and Helen, Alison, Megan, and twenty young people of around twelve to sixteen were ready to board as soon as the craft passed its safety inspection. Helen took with her enough medication for several weeks, a large bag full of clothes and books, and as a special concession, her small guitar.

A few of the kids were Helen's students, including young Summer. Lena had not been allowed by her mother, despite the fact that her grandmother was in charge of the trip along with Helen.

Every instance of Daisy's distrust of her cut more painfully than the one before. Helen only saw Lena briefly for violin practice, now, or when she had to visit the Warren home to fetch the kids. Now the girls were at home with Melanie and Sheila's daughter Yvonne, who had offered to help Melanie with them, and to keep an eye on Melanie's treatment. Melanie could walk around the house, with a trolley trailing behind her, but there were lots of things she needed help with.

Helen was appointed co-pilot for the trip to the surface, and had spent an hour in the pilot's seat, reviewing the various procedures with the pilot for the mission, who was Alan. He was a really nice fellow, she found out, though it was hard for Helen to forgive him for taking Melanie for his sleeping partner during their mission. But then, Alan had been one of the least painful parts of Melanie's experience.

It was Helen who took the Cutter out of the bay, as Megan and Alison watched with admiration. The children were quiet, observing over the video monitor that showed them what was going on at the pilot's console. Helen was especially on her mettle, because not only Alison and Megan, but little Summer was on board, and watching her every move.

The shuttle eased out with hardly any jerks or awkwardness. The dock had been counter-rotated as Helen had requested more than two years ago, when she had performed the initial maneuvers with the original team. The cutter—the Alpha—slipped out of the immense docking bay, and hung in space for a moment, with no acceleration, giving the kids an opportunity to enjoy the sensation of being surrounded by space. Then with a touch of the attitude jets, the craft pulled away, and slowly turned to fire its thrusters to fall into the gravity well of the planet in a perfectly controlled arc.

Alan smiled with admiration, and offered a few words of congratulation to Helen privately, before he addressed the passengers. He had been instructed to keep up a commentary of what was going on; the kids in the back could easily be the pilots of tomorrow, or at least be involved in simulator training as potential pilots. This brief encounter with a planet might have to serve as motivation for years and years of preparedness, the factor that had been missing when the present planet was first sighted, and the mission had been conceived.

"Ms. Nordstrom has taken us out of the dock, and used the engines to fire off some of our orbiting speed, to allow a controlled fall into the planet. The whole process is a matter of losing energy a little at a time. As we lose height energy, we gain speed energy. The lower we go, the faster we go, so we use the engines to slow down. So that's what's happening."

Once Helen got accustomed to the feel of the descent, she spared a second to turn to Alan.

"Whenever you're ready," she said.

"All right," he said, smiling, as he took control. "You helped train me, and . . . it feels silly to have the controls, with you seated right here!"

Helen shrugged. "I've been crazy about flying, ever since I remember!"

"You've flown atmospheric craft, I know. Logged many kilometers?"

"About ten thousand," Helen said, nonchalantly. "I owned a jet briefly."

"I've heard of them," Alan nodded. "But this is obviously very different."

"Certainly. Easier!"

Alan looked at her quizzically. "I do believe you would like to land the Cutter!"

Helen nodded slowly. "I didn't want to ask, but since you mention it . . ."

"Melanie had never landed one when she did it for the first time!"

Helen looked forward, eyes narrowed. The cutter had reverse thrusters, making it unnecessary to fly backward, unlike the Ship. _I bet I could land this thing,_ she thought to herself. She had been thoroughly briefed on the topography of the landing-site and the surrounding area. She wanted to have a good look at the planet surface, but she wanted the thrill of flying the cutter even more.

But first, she had to get a feel for the control of the cutter at high speeds.

"Can I suggest something?"

Alan, who had been firing a burn, nodded. He knew how irresistible the urge to fly was. And the Cutter controls had a learner mode, which allowed the dual controls to be linked. He listened to Helen's plan, and nodded.

Helen took control again, and under Alan's guidance, continued the process of landing, metering out the thrusters in the most economical and safest way. The commitment point came and went, and Helen retained control. Far away was the landing site, well-marked with the structures of Alpha Base, a smooth runway of about a mile. It rushed towards them at incredible speed, and Helen declared she was going to fly by, and land on a second pass.

"Sure," said Alan, calmly. "We never did it that way."

"Just . . . a wide circle . . ." Helen said, doing as she had said. The landing-strip flew by as Helen circled. Circling was a luxury, with rocket-powered craft, but it was a habit that was hard to resist. She made the second approach, but having managed to lose a little more speed during the turn, Helen was approaching at a much reduced speed. The craft touched down in a perfect three-point landing.

Only Alan had any inkling that it had been a non-traditional landing. The students cheered, and the adults joined them. Helen turned and grinned at them all, well satisfied. She had burned up a little more precious fuel, but she hoped to save them more fuel than she had burned, one way or another.

The take-off had been scheduled for ten in the morning, and it was now 5:30 ship's time, and a little after noon at Alpha Base. In the harsh sunlight, the view through the portholes was forbidding, far brighter to the eyes of the kids than anything on the ship. Helen got up out of her seat and stretched, watching them. Helen loved to study teenagers engaged in observing things; they were so intent, they were almost cherubic. They were a wonderful kaleidoscope of types and colors, male and female, so alike, yet so unalike the children of the world Helen had left behind!

"What happens now?" Helen asked Alan, as Megan and Allison joined them.

"They've rigged up an air tunnel. Here they come!"

"Children," Helen called, "please take your seats. We're going to be towed."

There was a murmur, as the young people sat down and strapped themselves again. Their upbringing on the ship had made strapping-in a regular part of life. The ones at the windows kept up a commentary for the benefit of the others.

Helen reached up to the storage areas above the seats, and pulled out a bag of snacks she had brought along. They would be fed soon, but children were children, and a small snack now could make all the difference. Megan was at her side momentarily, and the snacks were passed round and eaten greedily. Alan politely refused one.

Suited figures appeared from the shadows, and waved at them. Then a tow-hook was attached to a ring on the front of the cutter, and they felt the cutter being raised on jacks. Then, after some shaking and jerking, they felt themselves being moved forward, into a kind of cave.

"It's a large arch! No, it's a large sock kind of thing," said Summer, who had one of the window seats. They felt the light through the windows dim, and the cutter kept heading into the cave/sock, and then they stopped. There were two taps on the outside door, and a crackle from the PA system.

"Welcome to Alpha Base, Cutter Alpha!"

"Hello, guys. Are we inside?"

"Yep. What do your sensors read? It should be ship normal." Standard pressure in the ship was a little less than sea-level Earth standard.

"I read ship normal," Alan said. "Stand aside!"

With a smooth action, Alan opened the airlock, and stepped through to open the outer doors. Helen followed him, and was motioned to step out. Everybody filed down the ramp into a pressurized tube that stretched before them into a large lighted area. They were looking through several layers of plastic at the open sky, which was pitch dark. All the light came from the one source, the burning ball that was Phoebus, hanging like a lamp in the sky. In the absence of an atmosphere, they would never see the blue skies of Earth. The closest they would come was the hazy blur of the plastic bubble over their heads. No weather, no open air. Not even the green sky of the ship.

"It's night already," said one of the kids in amazement.

"No," said several voices at once, making the kid start. "It's in the afternoon. But it's always a black sky, like that," added Alan. "Something to do with the fact that there's no atmosphere!"

"Should we wear suits?" they asked.

"Only when you leave the bubble. We're already inside."

They were met by a number of others, and they saw the space-suited figures who had hauled the cutter inside walking off into the distance. The cutter looked enormous, looming over them, its gleaming blue-and-white-and black surface a little streaked with something or other. It was almost dream-like, to walk on this strange ball of rock, a world that had lived for billions of years, without a single living thing having set foot on it.

"Welcome, Miss Nordstrom!" said one of those who were approaching them. "Lieutenant Rutkowski!" Alan grinned and called back a greeting. The newcomers were all women, and to Helen's critical eyes, they all did look anxious, and . . . she wondered; was it a figment of her imagination, or did they seem relieved to see her?

Alison greeted them all pleasantly, and there were handshakes all round. Summer emerged as a sort of leader of the children. She had learned most of their names, and she introduced them all. The entire group began to walk towards a low building, just a rectangular block. Just inside the entrance—clearly not the main one—there was a hallway, with restrooms, and the children eagerly headed inside. It had been a long wait, strapped to their seats.

Once the group was together again, they were conducted further into the building, and shown the living quarters that had been set up for the kids, five rooms for boys, five rooms for girls. The rooms, which Helen went to inspect with Alison and Megan, were all set up exactly the same, with bunks, and storage for their stuff. This block of rooms was on the two lower floors of a three-story building, with the rooms for Helen, Megan and Alison on the top floor.

Of the four women who had been assigned to receive them, three excused themselves and left once the visitors had been settled in. The fourth stayed. She was a rather quiet, reserved girl called Bonnie, who remained, waiting in case she was needed. When they were done looking over the rooms and had their gear all stowed, they turned to Bonnie, who was standing outside, in the hallway.

"Well," said Helen, as Alison seemed content to let Helen handle the liaison with the surface crew. "What are the plans for the rest of the day?"

Bonnie seemed to shrug without actually doing so. "Supper is at seven," she said in her quiet voice, "it's just about two, now. If you like, I could show some of you around the base. Or you could rest until supper, or . . . call me when you need something."

Helen looked at the other two women. Alan had gone off to room with the surface crew. Megan had been instructed to stay by Helen. Megan raised her eyebrows. Alison seemed eager to get about the exploring, but she wasn't about to say much. "Let's go check on the kids," Helen said. "If they're up for it, we could go around with Bonnie."

As it happened, the kids were eager to explore. They were out of their rooms in a trice, and in ten minutes, all twenty were ready to come along. Helen organized them in the "buddy system" she had learned as a child; they were all paired up, so that each kid was responsible for his or her partner. After one last check, Helen led the way out of the second set of doors, which opened on the main square of the bubble.

The excited talking gradually quietened down, and in a few moments, the youngsters were out on the front steps, staring at the almost uninterrupted view of the sky, with only the thin bubble between them and the vacuum.

This was vastly different from staring at space through a two-by-six foot plate of glass, as they did during visits to the observation gallery on the ship. Helen was fascinated herself, but in her case it was the wonder of being on another planet at all, countless million miles from the planet of her birth. But it had to be far more strange for the children, and even for Alison and Megan. She felt strangely an outsider, as she watched her companions silently stare at the sky and the ground. She could almost hear their thoughts: so _this_ was what a planet was like.

_No! No!_ Helen felt like screaming, _This is not what it is like!_ How could she explain the beauty, the variety, the teeming life that was Earth? The blue skies, the green hills? The videos of Earth were faithfully accessed a hundred times a day from the archives. These children, or at least their parents, viewed Earth movies and documentaries at least once a week, on the average. But perhaps, after seventy-some years, it was hard to identify with the scenes and the values and the concerns of those movies; the endless teen movies, concerned with dates for the prom, money for a car, a job to keep the family together: the stock themes that embellished the central themes of falling in love, and getting revenge. It was a kind of pathetic nostalgia for something they had never experienced that kept this low level of interest in the videos. The National Geographic videos were very popular; and for some, they formed the core of their image of what a planet was, but only in a rather vague sense.

"Wow," a young fellow near her muttered to his buddy, "that's scary."

"It's _huge,_ " said the other. "I bet it's about _three times_ the size of the ship!"

Helen was startled. Unable to see the entire ship in a single view, the children had quite exaggerated impressions of the size of it.

"The planet?" asked Helen softly.

"Yeah!" said the boy. They looked about fourteen, eyes all bright with excitement. They all wore the blue jeans that had become a sort of standard kid uniform, and varicolored little jackets, complete with mottoes printed on them, in imitation of Earth T-shirts. Helen's new friends had the words ' _Speed!'_ and ' _Shazam!'_ respectively, which could only be read if they were zipped up.

"It's about a billion times as big as the ship," Helen said. "I'm not sure, but a lot more than three!"

_Shazam'_ s eyes went wide with shock. " _That big?_ _"_ murmured _Speed_.

"This is kind of the center of the bubble, actually a little to the south. You entered the block we were in, which we call the Arnaud Block, from the entrance nearest the airlock, which is at the south end. The bubble contains the agricultural area, and the living area. The mines, laboratories, and the stores are in buildings nearby, connected by tubes." She pointed in directions south and east. "Over that way is the cultivation area; you can just see it from the top of the steps." She pointed north. They headed off slowly behind her, Helen right next to their guide, Bonnie, with Speedy and Shazam, and Megan not too far behind. Then followed the other children, a rather quiet group, now, intimidated by the sheer openness of the space they found themselves in. Alison and a rather subdued Summer brought up the rear. Summer's early promise of height had not materialized; she was still about five foot five, and Lena had overshot her. Summer had her hair braided, a short thick braid tied with a rubber band, with the remnants of her bangs straggling out of the braids to soften her high forehead. Her rather plain, severe face seldom showed much emotion, and her grey eyes tended to disappear in her face. Glasses would have given her face a little character, but her vision was perfect. Helen quickly glanced down the line, returned Megan's quiet smile, and turned back to their guide.

"All the agricultural projects are over here; the trays and trays of various crops, embedded in a mixture of native soil and artificial nutrient. There's practically no loss of water from the bubble; only whatever is lost to the dirt beneath, which is moderately hydrophilic."

Helen cautioned her to gather the children round before she continued. "You'll need to go a little slower," she added. Shazam seemed to agree. Accordingly, Bonnie waited until they had come up on the first row of trays.

She repeated what she had said, using plain language, elaborating on the agricultural project, adding more information about how the plants were watered and their health monitored.

Gradually, as their attention was diverted away from the vast blackness above to the rows of plants at eye-level, the awed silence gave way to a rising murmur of young voices, making the improbable assumptions that teenagers loved to indulge in. "You grind this stuff up," someone was telling his partner authoritatively, "and: _boom!_ Hamburgers!"

"No way!" said one of the pair of females just ahead of him.

There was a derisive snort. "Don't you know _anything?_ _"_

It wasn't long before Helen began to feel the need to get back to where she could visit the restrooms, and get something to eat or drink. Before she could turn around, Megan was with her, pressing something into her hand, something very like one of the garlic knots they had eaten soon after they had landed. "Thanks!" she whispered, popping it immediately into her mouth. Several eyes were turned towards them, and Megan pulled out a bag and passed round more of the snacks without a word. Helen saw Megan looking over the heads of the kids and making eye-contact with someone. She followed her eyes, and saw Alison discreetly nodding approval.

Glancing back at their guide, Helen saw Bonnie taking in the reason for the sudden quietness of her audience. Megan quickly offered her the bag of snacks.

"You must be hungry, after the trip down from the Ship!" she exclaimed. "We sort of assumed you would have a meal on board, I'm afraid! I apologize," she said, turning a pretty shade of red which was rather spoiled by the harsh light. The light from Phoebus, barely diffused by the plastic, came straight down, and was reflected up from the plants in a light green glow that made everyone look a little green. Only the little light reflected off the colorful jackets of the children relieved the greenness of the view. Unfortunately, green seemed a favorite color for the jackets, too.

Bonnie took a garlic knot and said it was a favorite of hers.

"We could go back and see some of the other parts of the bubble, and get something to drink," she suggested. This was greeted with strong approval.

There was a commotion a little distance away, and they saw a disturbance, too far away to see clearly. Two indistinct figures were seen hurrying off at a tangent, with much cursing and swearing. Bonnie turned red, as she followed the figures with her eyes.

"The crew often relax out here, um, after lunch," she said awkwardly. "They've been accustomed to a fair degree of privacy," she explained to Helen and Megan in a low voice.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Helen said.

Bonnie took an anxious breath. "We were told that—the reason for your visit was to . . ."

Helen waited, looking interested, but Bonnie blushed and would not go on.

"The bubble contains two things; firstly, as we have seen, the agricultural area. Secondly the bubble contains the common activity areas: for recreation, for meetings, and for living. The kitchens, the dining area, the little common room with its large wall monitor, and a small library." Bonnie led them back to the central square, and to south-west, and a cluster of structures. Like inside the Ship, the structures existed more for temperature control, illumination and tidiness than for shelter; the bubble itself provided all the shelter they needed, and there was no atmosphere, and so no weather. All there ever was were occasional stray droplets from the spray heads that watered the plants in those sections in which a higher humidity was necessary. Otherwise the plants were watered directly by drip hoses, a method that was highly developed and understood on the ship.

The common areas, for instance, were in the open, lit by Phoebus in the daytime, and by large floor lamps in the evenings. As the children headed towards the area, there was a hubbub, as half of the adults who had been relaxing there left, muttering, and the other half converged on the visitors, smiling a welcome. Helen and her party was effectively polarizing the base population into those who welcomed a more civilized social environment, and those who preferred minimal supervision.

The dozen or so souls who came towards them were introduced to the party, and especially the adults, Helen, Alison and Megan. Everybody knew Megan, of course, and all the Service personnel knew Alison, if not personally, at least by reputation.

They regarded Helen with a mixture of expectation and slight suspicion. Helen wondered exactly what they had been told, and how she could broach the subject without upsetting the kids.

"I'm sorry to have caused some of your friends to leave," Helen said cautiously, softening her words with a smile.

"Oh, they'll get over it," said one of the young fellows who had remained. There were mostly women in this group. "Or not," added someone else. There was laughter. "Where were you headed?"

"To get drinks all round, and then look round the common area," Bonnie said.

As the young base personnel conducted the line of students to the ingenious drink dispensers they had created for themselves—clearly being away from the constant oversight of the shipboard authority had resulted in some harmless innovation—Helen studied them. They were all in their late teens and early twenties, since the more senior members of the ship community were deemed too essential to the running of the ship to spare for the planet operation. (Alison was the most senior person to visit the surface thus far.) Anxious glances were thrown at Helen continually, as if they expected some stern reprimand from her at any moment. Very gradually, the tension underlying the cheerful surface seemed to diminish seriously. Some of the children were known to several of the personnel, and they were talking and being introduced around.

"Is it fun to work down here?"

"Yeah, most of the time."

"You know everybody?"

A shrug. "Everybody I _want_ to know!"

"Some of them are not nice?"

A shake of the head, and an embarrassed smile at Helen. Helen kept a neutrally cheerful expression and concentrated on her drink.

"Why, what have they said to you?"

Again a silent shake of the head, this time indicating that the young woman in question preferred not to discuss the subject. The talk drifted to what they were learning in school, and Helen's attention turned elsewhere.

Belatedly, Helen realized that one pair of girls Helen had brought on the ship were a couple Lena had complained about. They were clearly far too interested in each other for Lena's standards of decency. This had been some time ago; of late, conversations between Helen and Lena had been too focused to allow digressions to the subject of Lena's classmates. Those wonderful days were long gone. If Daisy wasn't waiting to take Lena home, someone else was. They may as well have stopped Lena's violin lessons, for all the pleasure Helen got out of it.

Summer still faithfully visited, and looked after the four girls and played with them. But she soon headed off to find Lena; after all, it was Lena who was her friend. Helen was a friend, true, but now it was probably more pity than friendship that kept Summer coming round. That, and Helen's food; Summer liked to eat the spicy dishes that Helen occasionally prepared. She often took a bag of it to Lena, who liked it even more than Summer did.

The couple in question were Stephanie and Olie. Lena hadn't quite figured what Olie's real name was, but Summer would know. The two were holding hands, a little away from the others. Some of the others were staring at the two girls, while the rest were oblivious to them. Luckily there was no nudging and pointing. Sooner or later, though, Helen suspected, there would be a complaint. The kids were mixed, from all different schools, and all segments. The majority were white, but all types were represented.

Helen slid over to sit by Bonnie, who edged away so she could face Helen squarely. She looked at Helen with eyebrows raised.

"I'd like to meet with whoever is in charge here," Helen said gravely. "I should sort of officially check in, and clear the air about what I have been asked to do."

Bonnie looked worried.

"Oh. Yes, that's good. Um, it's Tom Davidow. He's talking to Alan, you know Alan . . ."

"Rutkowski."

"Yes."

"Should I join them?"

Bonnie looked plainly out of her depth. She had not planned to have to manage the complicated politics of dealing with the visitors. She shrugged, but Helen got the impression that Bonnie did not think it was a good idea. Helen looked around, and spotted Alison talking quietly to a couple of the crew. Feeling at a loss, Helen looked over the area in which they were seated, and saw a phone. Everyone seemed to carry their own phones, and Helen realized she could check in with the surface authority without invading his private sanctum, wherever it may be.

"Could I phone him?"

"Oh!" Bonnie followed Helen's eyes. "Why not? I—I'll go get it!"

Seconds later she handed the phone to Helen, saying that Tom said he would speak to her.

"Hello, this is Helen Nordstrom," she said pleasantly.

There was just a slight pause.

"Welcome to the base, Miss Nordstrom. I—I have my briefing in front of me, and honestly, I don't see how we can use you down here."

Helen felt a wave of anger go through her. She had hardly been here an hour or two, and already she was getting the brush-off. It was a sly way of saying that only service personnel were welcome, unless they were young women, willing to play.

"Oh, I can tell you in more detail when you have a minute, er, Captain?"

"Captain Davidow, Miss Nordstrom." The voice sounded a little chillier. "I'm a very busy man, but I'll see what I can do."

"You have nothing to fear from me, Captain Davidow. I'm sure we can come to some kind of understanding." Helen's eyes were narrowed, as she thought of difficult questions she could ask.

The angle of Phoebus, the sun, changed dramatically, and the children stared at it as it wound down towards the horizon. Because of the construction of the bubble, and the gold layer, there was a strong sunset effect. The shadows grew long, as the kids had been warned would happen, until the sun sank below the horizon. Helen could barely stop herself from laughing with pleasure as she watched the kids stare at the sky, fascinated. She was making friends with all of them gradually, and their childlike enthusiasm and curiosity fascinated and delighted her. As a teenager, she had enjoyed only minimal contact with her half-siblings. Her sister Tomasina, a strange, solemn child, almost a caricature of young Athene, had loved Helen fiercely as a child. Helen had been affectionate and loving to the younger sister, but it had not been a very close relationship, though Helen had tried to make it so. They were more aunt and niece than sisters. But Helen's fascination and delight in young people only seemed to grow year by year.

Perhaps because she herself was getting a little tired and overwhelmed by all the new experiences, Helen suggested that they should rest a little before supper. It had been a long day, and it was almost midnight, ship's time. Megan heartily approved, and soon they were being conducted to the white building which was the Arnaud Block.

Soon she was in bed, exhausted. Megan had insisted Helen eat another snack, and take her night-time medication. No one had addressed the issue of the time difference, and how it affected how Helen was to take her medication, and they had to improvise something to tide Helen over until she could resume the daily medical routine. Megan suggested that Helen take the medicine again at Planet suppertime, which would bring them into alignment as long as they remained on the surface. Too tired to argue, Helen had agreed. Too much medicine was better than too little, she figured, though a little voice suggested that that was bad reasoning.

Only vaguely aware of Megan seated on the edge of her bed, Helen fell asleep in her clothes. It seemed almost the very next moment before there was an urgent knock on her door. She opened one eye, and realized that Megan was gone. Rolling out of bed, she opened the door. Two wide-eyed girls stood there, looking nervous.

"Oo, did we wake you up, Miss Helen?" That was the name Helen was most comfortable hearing from kids, and she had told them to call her that. ( _Helen_ seemed a little too familiar, and _Miss Nordstrom_ seemed too formal.)

"It doesn't matter," Helen said quickly. "Come in! What seems to be the problem?"

The girls looked at each other, then at Helen. "Those girls, the ones from Summer's school?"

Helen groaned inwardly. "Er, yes, Stephanie and Olie."

"Yes, them!"

"Yes? Are they all right?"

"Miss Helen, they're _kissing,_ and . . . stuff like that!"

Helen frowned. "Where are they kissing?"

"In their room!"

Helen tried to look mildly disapproving. As far as she was concerned, the universe would be a better place with more kissing all round. But she understood the disgust of the young ladies who were bringing the complaint. "Were they trying to kiss anybody else?"

" _No!"_ they said together.

"Just—kissing in their room? With the door open?"

"Yes!"

"That's not very civilized," Helen said with a frown, "is it?"

They shook their heads.

"Tell me your names," Helen asked.

"I'm Alex, and she's Robin," said the more assertive of the two girls. They were just about twelve, among the youngest in the crowd, but among the most outspoken. "You should hurry, Miss Helen, they're going at it like crazy! It's room 21B!"

"I'll see what I can do," said Helen gravely. "Would you like to wait here?"

"No, we'll join you," said Alex, getting ready to follow Helen with great determination. She was a miniature bulldozer of a girl, with bright black eyes, a stout build, and two auburn pigtails that stuck out behind her like antennae. Her friend was built on much the same lines, but was a short-haired blonde. Irrelevantly, Helen thought to herself that they would be great to teach tennis to; those short powerful legs could probably scramble.

They marched down to 21B, and Helen knocked on the door, which was now closed. She tried not to hear the heavy breathing that emanated from behind. The breathing stopped short.

"Who is it?" cried two anxious voices in chorus.

Alex took a breath, to announce their doom, but Helen laid a finger sternly on her lips, and Alex subsided reluctantly. Helen motioned them away from the door with an imperative finger. "It's Miss Helen," she said pleasantly.

The door was cracked open cautiously. Helen waited. The opening widened, and Helen slipped in, sending one last warning glance at the two plaintiffs. She shut the door behind her.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled at the two miscreants. The only signs that they had been doing anything were their red faces, and their anxious tugging at their shirts.

"I guess this is the first time you two have been away from home?" They nodded. Helen sighed. "And you're good friends?" They nodded. "May I sit?" Helen asked, indicating the edge of the lower bunk. They nodded again.

"Some girls complained that you two were kissing, in here, with the door open."

"We weren't kissing, Miss Helen," said one of them. Helen didn't know which was which; she only knew the two of them as Steph and Olie, or "Stephanolie," as Lena called them.

Helen's eyes narrowed reflexively at the lie, and she took a deep breath, ready to lecture them on the importance of telling the truth. Something in her expression made them flinch, and she saw them move together, as if to protect each other. All the firmness went out of Helen.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Helen said, and saw them relax a little. "But I would like to hear the truth." She sat down, so that they were eye-to-eye. The lower bunk was slightly wider, so that she could sit on it without bumping her head.

One of the girls, the prettier one—but they were both quite unremarkable-looking girls—took a deep breath, and hung her head. The other one squeezed her hand hard and glared at her, warning her not to proceed, her eyes round as saucers. But her friend had committed herself.

"I was kissing Steph. She was just—laying there. It was me."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" asked Helen, kindly.

"Oleana, Dr. Nordstrom."

The other girl, Steph, spoke up. "I was kissing her too, Dr. Nordstrom. We didn't mean any harm!"

"Why do you do all this kissing?" Helen asked.

"Because we love each other!" Oleana replied, with all the earnestness that fourteen-year-olds were capable of. It seemed to make perfect sense to her that Helen would accept this defense.

"You know that the other kids don't like to see you kissing."

A glint of something came into Oleana's eyes. Helen waited. "Yes, Dr. Nordstrom."

"So you kiss with the door open, to show that you don't care."

"We closed the door, Dr. Nordstrom," said Steph, glancing at her friend with what Helen thought might be reproach.

Helen was disturbed. Whenever a pair of girls or a pair of boys found each other, there was always the temptation to challenge the world, to force the world to look at their mutual affection, to rub it in the face of the world. It always led to mischief. Public displays of any kind of affection had the potential to make the unwilling spectators angry and upset.

"It's one thing to enjoy your friendship together, and to enjoy the privacy of this room," Helen said gravely. "But it's quite another to force the other girls to watch and listen. I was outside just now, and I heard you groaning and panting . . . do you _have_ to do all that?"

Stephanie shook her head vigorously, and shook Oleana's arm, and that young lady reluctantly shook her head also.

"If all the other girls complain—and they certainly will, if you aren't more discreet—then we'll have to cut short our visit. And your parents will never let your out under Dr. Nordstrom's supervision. _Nobody_ will be allowed out under Dr. Nordstrom's supervision." The girls looked aghast. It warmed Helen's heart that they cared that much at least.

"We'll stop it," Oleana said, looking miserable.

"We'll be careful, Dr. Nordstrom," Stephanie amended, reading Helen more accurately than her beloved had.

"Do me a favor. No more kissing for the next three hours."

They had agreed, and Helen had left them and headed back to her room, with a stern look at the two busybodies who were waiting around the corner. Helen invited them to her room, thinking to distract them from more aggressive snooping. But on the way, they passed another room in which a game of poker was in full swing, and Helen's companions elected to join the fun. Helen was baffled. She could never see the fascination in that particular game. She got to her room, wide awake, unable to sleep.

She called the ship from her phone, which had been modified to link to the ship-to-surface communications net. With little difficulty, she got in touch with Melanie, and they indulged in a little phone sex. Melanie was anxious about possible eavesdropping, but Helen didn't care. Every day, less and less made her more and more tired. "Just waking up in the morning will tire me out," she exclaimed.

"You're probably working your back off," Melanie declared.

Helen denied the accusation, but told her about Steph and Olie, and Melanie laughed softly. It was past midnight, and the kids were light sleepers.

"Look after them, Helen," Melanie urged. "They probably don't have anyone to advise them. It's so hard to be this way at that age!"

"But what can I do?"

"At least you could tell them that it isn't wrong . . ."

"And earn a reputation for encouraging homosexuality?"

After thinking a bit, Melanie came back with, "There must be _something_ you could do . . ."

"I'll keep a look out," Helen promised, and sent her a parting kiss over the phone.

Supper time came round, and they all headed out to the dining area with Bonnie, who was waiting for them at the North Entrance. It was now completely dark, the sun having set an hour ago, and the path was lit by dim lights in the ground, as in the ship, and floor lamps, once they got to the dining area. It was arranged in circular tables, each seating seven. Helen found herself seated at a table with a tall man in his late thirties, another, younger man, Alan, Alison, Megan, and Bonnie.

"I'm Tom Davidow," said the Captain, before Alan could introduce him. Helen and Alan introduced the rest of the table quickly. The food was already on the table, and they passed it around and began to eat. It was towards the end of the meal that Helen asked whether this was a good time to broach the matters that had brought her to the surface. The base commander shrugged. With a crooked smile he acknowledged that it was his obligation to give Helen an audience. "As I said," he added, "I don't think there's much you can do for us."

Alan looked embarrassed for a moment, then took his leave. His loyalty was divided, and Helen understood.

Helen took a deep breath, as Alison gave her a poker-face that indicated that she would stand back-up. It was Helen's serve.

"The evidence of the first surface team indicates that the younger members were put under pressure to provide—let's call it _companionship_." Helen fixed Davidow with a steady stare. "It appears that, away from the discipline of the ship, standards of decency were a little too relaxed."

"Is that all, or is there more?"

"That's the main complaint. If you would like to hear all the implications, I could continue. But I expect that you can see them yourself."

"You mean all these children."

Helen nodded. "Even if the physically weaker members of the Service are expected to be victimized in the course of performing their duties—and I sincerely hope that is not the case—the civilian personnel are not. It should be possible to send children down here without fear of their being harassed. The fact that there is the slightest doubt . . ."

"Ms. Nordstrom!" Tom Davidow interrupted, bitingly. "Whatever the situation was before I took command, I assure you there is no forced sex, or any such activity presently taking place, and I deeply resent being accused of fostering such things!"

Helen did not let the man stare her down. " _I_ did not accuse _you,_ Captain. I am here to find out the facts, and to inform the personnel of their rights."

" _Rights,_ Ms. Nordstrom? They are members of the service. We do not have the luxuries afforded to the civilian population!"

"Everyone has rights, commander. As a representative of Chief of Operations Holt, I am here to observe, to inform, and do as she instructs me. I am not here to accuse."

Alison stirred, and Davidow looked in her direction with relief. Helen's firmness was making him angry, and he was determined not to let a woman make him lose his cool.

"As the appointed representative of the ship's authority, Captain Davidow, I think it would be wisest to distance yourself from any lapses in the ordinary codes of conduct on the surface. If you persist in defending bad behavior, or condoning it, or denying it, or participating in it, the consequences will be personally painful. On the other hand, if you are objective about our plan to investigate and cooperate with our education program, we—we can negotiate—other—means of reprimanding officers who were negligent in their duties."

The Captain turned bright red. He was a stubborn man, but he stopped short of mutiny. He turned to Bonnie and said she could leave. She rose with dignity, but having nodded all round, and held Helen's gaze, she left gracefully. The Captain's other companion left at a look from the Captain. Helen wondered what he was; was he a representative of the miscreants? A friend of the Captain? At any rate, now there were only him and the three women.

"Lieutenant Barrows, would you excuse us?"

Megan looked at Helen and Alison, half ready to rise. Helen nodded to her, and Alison looked intently at Davidow, her eyes narrowed.

"My orders were to stay within eyeshot of Dr. Nordstrom, Captain. I'm going to sit over there, where I can see her."

"That will be fine," said Davidow, icily. Megan retreated in her own dignified way, and took her position near the rest-rooms, some forty feet away. "Why does she have to stay within eyeshot of you?" Davidow demanded of Helen.

"I suffer from a medical condition that requires monitoring, Captain, it is none of your concern."

Davidow took a deep breath.

"All right," he said, "I will cooperate—for the present. Do not exceed the bounds of reasonable inquiry. I will not tolerate my subordinates being bullied!"

"Good for you, Captain. Then you're on our side."

"What's this?" he barked. "You're accusing me of bullying my men?"

Helen sighed. "We want to investigate all possible instances of any bullying. They're _all_ your subordinates, Captain, not just the few who're your friends, you know?"

The Captain stared at Helen a long minute, and she stared back.

From her position near the rest-rooms, Megan watched the scene. Helen talked firmly and quietly, while the Captain snarled back at her. Helen never flinched. It was as if the man was a wind, and Helen simply faced it down. It was a mystery; Megan had seen plenty of occasions when Helen had backed down, retreated, flinched at a harsh word. She was not an argumentative person. She was not a forceful one, either; she was easygoing in the extreme, except if she thought there was danger. But here she was, cool as ice, her green eyes coolly studying the Captain's expression. She did not even look to Chief Warren for support. Megan was impressed.

She had come to love Helen dearly in the past several weeks. She knew that, at least on one occasion Helen had been on the brink of propositioning her. Megan's disgust at the thought of being the object of a woman's desire had long since faded. She had found, with some alarm, that it caused no more disgust in her to think of how Helen saw her, as to think of how Andy saw her. Was it very different from the protectiveness she felt when Helen was under attack?

They were many years away from human violence. The last instance had been when Chief Warren's son had been killed in the woods near the tennis courts. That had been almost the only incident on the ship, except for an incident with a gun, somewhere, and a brawl at a pub. Would it come to a fight, out here? Megan had learned combat technique, and she was confident in her ability to protect herself. But could she protect herself, as well as Helen, and Chief Warren, if there was a fight?

Her eyes drifted back to the fair figure of her charge, Helen Nordstrom. Her hair was pulled forward over her breast, now, and Helen was gathering her skirts, preparing to leave. The arguments were over, and it appeared from the expressions in all their faces that the women had won. The Captain walked away, his face red, his expression thoughtful.

Half an hour later, the kids were all in bed. Helen made a point of checking in every room, saying a few words to each pair of kids, making them feel that she was concerned and interested in how they felt about the little adventure. She learned their names, and wrote them down in a little slab of paper clamped to a piece of board she called her _clipboard._ She spent a little extra time in the room of Stephanie and Oleana. Unused to much attention, the girls were pleased to have Helen come talk to them. They asked if she hated them for having kissed. Helen shook her head, but warned them that it was childish to cut everyone else out of their little circle of just the two of them. If they were tactful about displaying their affection for each other in public, there might be other girls and even boys, who would be happy to be their friends.

The young ladies expressed their sincere doubts about that. But Helen pointed to herself and said, " _I_ want to know you better! Lieutenant Barrows would like to know you better!" They smiled at her politely. Helen could see their appreciation of what she was trying to do. "You have things to contribute to the people around you, don't you?" They nodded reflexively, not entirely convinced. Helen reached out to tousle the head of young Stephanie, who caught her hand, and affectionately held it to her cheek, with a smile. Helen was deeply touched. "Sleep tight," she smiled to each of them. She was willing to use all her charm to make sure the two girls reconciled their fugitive attraction to each other with their relationship to their peers.

Megan stood at the corner, waiting for her. Helen went up to her at the end of her rounds, and let out a long sigh. Megan took the clipboard from her hands, and studied it. She returned it to Helen with an affectionate smile. "You're going to run out of steam very soon," she declared.

Helen could hardly bear the thought of going to bed alone. But there was no alternative.

"Good night," she said, her voice rough. She had wanted to sound light and cheerful, but ended up sounding hoarse. She headed out to her room. When she opened her door and went inside, Megan had followed her in.

Without a word, Megan undressed her. Helen held her breath, until she noticed she was doing it. Her breath came out as a shuddering gasp. Megan ignored her, as she undid Helen's shoes, took off her dress, her panties, her bra, and gently tucked her into bed. Then her desire got the better of her. She had thought Megan wanted to make love, but she had only wanted to make sure Helen went straight to bed. It was too much. Helen held on tight to Megan's wrist. It was a desperate grip. "Please, please," she begged, over and over, in a whisper. She had been strong and firm, but now she wanted Megan with her. She realized she did not even want sex. She just wanted Megan to hold her, or she wanted to hold Megan's big body in her arms. It was too much to be alone. "Please," she breathed.

Megan sat down at the edge of Helen's bed.

"This is what you came to stop," Megan said, so softly that Helen could barely hear. "Is this any different from what's been going on?"

"Yes . . . I love you!" Helen said, her eyes glistening in the dim night light.

"You love Melanie," Megan reminded her gently.

Helen sniffed loudly. She pushed Megan away, feeling childish. She wished something horrible would happen to her that night, and Megan would feel sorry when she found out in the morning. The feel of the sheets on her naked body was so sensuous, she felt furiously angry at Megan. But she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"All right, Megan said. "Stay awake; I'll be back."

Stay awake! _Stay awake! She would be back!_ Helen felt a wave of sheer love and pleasure wash over her as the door closed softly behind the big woman. Helen struggled to stay awake. She would give Megan the most incredible orgasm! Helen closed her eyes for a second, and fell fast asleep.

True to her word, Megan returned, wearing her robe. She smiled at the softly snoring figure, and carefully took off her robe and laid it where she could get it in a hurry. She slipped into bed next to Helen.

She had come to know the feel of Helen's skin on her own while they had been on tour. She wrapped her arms around the sleeping woman, and settled down to sleep herself. She had called Andy, and they had spent a few minutes together, as they always did. She smiled to think of how patient Andy was. He was a wonderful man, just as wonderful in his way, as Helen was in hers. When they were younger, he had sung to Megan, silly little ditties, but Megan had liked that. She sighed. Helen would sing to her with pleasure, but for Helen, Megan was only a friend, to cuddle at night. Megan had no illusions about it. She had seen Helen and Melanie together, and she was no fool.

Helen felt cool to the touch. Her skin was silky, slightly furry. Megan liked the way Helen smelled, as much as Helen liked Megan's unique fragrance. _I'm becoming one of them_ , Megan thought to herself. It didn't seem as bad as she had expected it to.

Then the shivering started. Helen's body was cooler than it should have been, and Megan understood what was happening. Helen was going into one of her low-sugar states.

Megan knew exactly where the sugar pills were. She reached out and grabbed the bottle, and pulled out a pill. Pushing Helen's chattering teeth apart, she slipped the pill in, and shook Helen, trying to wake her. She felt Helen reflexively responding to the melting tablet. She began to chew, as her desperate body sensed the sugar as it slipped along the mucous membrane and into her stomach.

One pill was not enough. Megan fed her another.

After a while the shivering stopped. Megan did not sleep for a long time.

Megan awoke to the feel of lips on her own. Helen was making love to her.

"You saved my life again," Helen said simply, her legs wrapped around Megan's waist.

"A sugar pill," Megan said.

"You've been crying," Helen said, her hand stroking the trail of tears that had dried on Megan's cheek. Megan only smiled. They had found each other somehow. It wasn't what Helen had wanted, nor what Megan had feared. There were different kinds of love, and this was one. Sugar pills, and lying quietly in bed together.

Alison took charge of the students, and supervised their placement with various teams on the surface. Some of them went with the mining crews, some went with the maintenance crew to service the Cutter. Some were taken to the agricultural area, the systems area, communications, housekeeping, laboratories, the medical center, and the kitchens.

Helen began to interview the personnel, one by one. At first there was no sign of any unpleasantness. Helen revealed that someone she knew had been brutalized. "She came back on board ship, and on the second day, she told me. She cried, and . . . she bounced back very quickly. But she went back to give testimony. And . . . steps are being taken."

"A court-martial?" asked the young woman she was interviewing.

Helen shook her head. "It was moral pressure that was applied in her case. A kind of emotional blackmail. The young fellow who had been the lever, he refused to testify. So there was only a strong reprimand. But he was recalled."

"That has happened here," she said. "There are people who should be recalled, for sure."

Tom Davidow was keen to make the case that man-hours were lost because of the investigation. But Helen was able to show that more work had been done since she arrived than before. Finally, she presented her findings to him, and he bowed his head. He was willing to go back to the ship. Helen persuaded him to stay. He should bring his wife down here, remove all obstacles to being considered a safe and settled chief administrator. With a little forethought, it was possible to make life on the base devoid of temptation for bullies and perverts. What had initially started as an outlet for the stress associated with being far from the ship had been escalated by a few opportunists into something that had no excuse at all for existing.

The several weeks of sleeping together had brought Helen and Megan so close that Megan wondered how much closer it could be, to actually be in love. Helen was an undemanding person, on the whole. She was tender and affectionate towards Megan, much as she had always been, except that now there was a serenity in her that made Megan glow with pride. It was irksome to think of it as a victory for Helen, but in a way it was a victory for Megan too; she had won the battle without any loss, except that she allowed Helen to sleep with her.

She had finally told Andy, after a week of it. He had sighed, and asked if Helen had made herself unpleasant. Megan had vehemently denied that. She told him how sweet she had been, and how she was content with what Megan gave her. "She just wants to be cuddled at night, you know. I don't care; it's nothing."

"Yeah," Andy had said.

"Don't you go imagining things!"

He had made a non-committal noise. "Don't go getting too used to it."

"I won't."

"Okay hon."

And that had been it.

It was their last night on the surface. They had made friends with the entire base, all forty-odd people, and Tom Davidow was now on grinning terms with them. Alison had returned, and Cass Holt had visited, with Jeannie Rutkowski. The previous night, Helen had organized a concert for the troops; having charmed all the offending young bloods to change their evil ways or return to the ship, she was now a universal favorite, and they had cheered her hoarse when she and the children had sung and played for them.

Steph and Olie had become firm friends with Summer and her little gang of nerds. Summer had confided to Helen that Steph and Olie were now her best friends outside of Lena and a few others from the Collegium. They were exactly on Summer's wavelength, and she had gone on and on about how neat they were.

The cooks had outdone themselves for the last dinner on the base. They had experimentally raised some fish on the base, and they were a welcome addition to the diet.

Now Helen and Megan were in bed together, and Helen kissed Megan softly on the mouth.

"You'll never know what it's like," she said, teasingly. "I know you wanted to find out!"

"That's fine," said Megan, holding Helen close. "Don't you be worrying your little head about that."

"I miss my kids," Helen said, apropos of nothing.

"It's only a few hours until you see them," Megan pointed out.

"I'm going to miss you," Helen said, finally coming to the point.

"I'll be around," Megan assured her.

"Will you come give me a hug when I need one?"

"You have Melanie, hon," Megan pointed out patiently. "It won't be fair to her."

"Or to Andy."

"Yep."

Helen heaved an enormous sigh. She wrapped her arms around Megan. She realized now who Megan reminded her of: her father. She had the same laconic attitude, the same slow-moving warmth. It was all she wanted in a man, and she had found it in a woman. Life was not fair. But Helen loved Megan not because she _wanted_ her, but because she was lovable. The wanting was something separate. And now, she had Megan, in one sense. Helen could not find something to complain about.

"Good night, Megan . . . Sweet dreams, love."

"Sweet dreams to you too, hon."

She would miss someone calling her 'hon.'

The trip back was just as exciting as the trip out. Helen persuaded the pilot to allow her to fly it all the way in, to the completion of the docking procedure. The children, who were now Helen's firm buddies, cheered as the Cutter settled in its spot, and the engines settled to idle mode, and then fell silent. In the observation area, Helen could see four little figures jumping up and down in excitement. She turned to give the students a parting hug, and Steph and Olie the biggest hugs of all. They walked out to the observation area as soon as the pressure was brought up to ship normal. Then Megan and she and Cass were facing Melanie and the four girls, and Arthur and Ruth, and Ted. There were endless hugs and kisses, not least with Melanie who looked more beautiful than ever. She wore a clinging dress that accentuated her full bosom, and her face was made up just perfectly, and she smelled divine. After she kissed Helen and cried a little, she kissed Megan. Megan took a deep breath, her face red, and Melanie looked up into her eyes and murmured, only for Megan's ears, "I don't care! Be at ease." Megan smiled and nodded. It was not the easiest thing to hear, but Megan took it in stride. A few minutes later she found Andy hiding in the back, and gave him the biggest hug of his life.

Helen wished mightily, not for the first time, that there were cars on the ship. Like never before, she wanted to be alone with her family, away from prying eyes, where she could cry safely and tell Melanie how she loved her, and how she had slept with Megan. But they had to make their way to their apartment on foot. The elevator took them up to the segment, and then an elevator down. It was public transport, in the company of several of the students Helen had accompanied down to the surface, including Stephanie and Oleana, and their parents, as well as Summer, Cass, and the Levins. Ruth talked at Helen for five long minutes, singing the praises of Summer and some of the other students, Helen was not quite clear. Finally, Helen turned to Stephanie and her parents and talked to them for a little. They seemed very pleasant people, and Helen decided to get to know them better.

Oleana's parents, though, were taciturn, dull people, who barely smiled. It was fascinating to watch Stephanie react to their conversation, as if they were the most fascinating people. She was a sweet child, and they could do a lot worse than to have her for a daughter-in-law, Helen thought to herself. But then she chided herself for thinking that far. She had hung out with certain old ladies in Philadelphia far too long.

But everyone sooner or later looked at Melanie. She looked lovely, her hair sleekly styled, Diane and Athene in a twin stroller she had acquired from somewhere, with the other two girls beautifully dressed and carrying themselves so well. Melanie and Helen seemed to stand the perfect distance apart, to be lovers, or colleagues, or just friends. No one seemed to think it odd that Helen was going home with a woman. Helen had introduced the children as her own, and it had been assumed that she was paying Melanie a compliment. It was as if Helen could do no wrong that day. Nor could Melanie. Stephanie and Oleana, however, seemed to think that it was the most natural thing in the world that Helen should go home with Melanie. Their faces looked positively sappy, as if they were thinking, oh what a lovely couple they make! Helen had to quickly look away before she started to roll her eyes.

Finally, having said goodbye at the elevator doors down in the segment, Helen and Melanie took their little brood home. Once inside, Helen sat heavily down, and Melanie sat in her lap, and all the children hugged her at once.

"You look so pretty, Aunt Helen!" said Marissa, softly. Maya climbed up on Helen's lap, between Helen and her mother. Diane and Athene hung on her arms, kissing her. Helen could hardly breathe, for all the love she was getting, but her heart leaped up with love and joy. Melanie sat on her knee, laughing.

"I didn't tell you, but . . . we talked about nothing else but you, for two weeks!"

## The Kidney Tree

Helen's health grew steadily worse. Down on the surface, she had had to manage by herself. She had refused to take Megan again; it was too much. It was not fair to Melanie, and it was not fair to Andy. Helen met Megan occasionally, and it was a little like meeting a secret lover. It was becoming addictive, yet they did little but talk. So when Helen was invited back, she went alone.

She was on the brink of hypoglycemic attacks on at least five occasions, and when she got back on the ship, the checkup revealed that her kidneys were in almost critical shape.

She finally gave her approval for Sheila to grow a kidney for her.

"Guess what?" said Sheila, with a smile.

"I don't believe it! Sheila, you must not do this kind of thing! It is terribly wrong!"

Sheila only shrugged. She had created the required organ weeks earlier. She had invented a substrate that could serve as base tissue, and when a cell was grafted onto it, was able to feed it and nourish it as if it were the inside of a human body.

"How are the children?" Yvonne asked, eagerly. She had moved into the apartment with Melanie, and had learned to love the girls.

"They're fine," Helen assured her, awkwardly. "They talk about you every once in a while, and they said you told great stories!"

Yvonne blushed prettily, as her mother and sister watched intently, trying their best not to look as if they were observing a specimen. Then they looked at Helen. Then back at Yvonne.

"They are really beautifully brought up," Yvonne declared. "Obedient, intelligent, and very good-natured."

"I couldn't ask for more," Helen said. "Of course, your mother ensured most of all that."

"I certainly did not! I did not touch those genes, and you know it. I only modified the endocrine genes. Anything to do with the mind, I did not touch. I could have, but I didn't." Sheila was too pragmatic a person to see the playful needling for what it was.

"I was only kidding," Helen said, "joking, you know?"

Sheila smiled. "Yes, I know the word," she chided. Helen was once again struck by the similarities and the dissimilarities between the three women. Brought up on a 20th century diet of the evil of clones, it was thoroughly disconcerting to realize that of three of the people she could most rely on, on this amazing vessel, two were clones.

To Yvonne's eyes, meanwhile, Helen, looked very ill. She had made the trip by herself, with a bag full of nothing but medicines, to keep her blood-sugar low, and to raise it if it fell too low. She had an unhealthy tone to her skin, and neither the devastating presence that had overwhelmed audiences at concerts and recitals, nor the quieter beauty of her earlier visits, was in evidence. Yvonne was too unsure of herself to bring up the subject in Helen's presence.

In her mind, she, Yvonne, was the ideal mate for Helen. During her days with Melanie, she had become friends with the pretty Ocie, but she still kept a list of all Melanie's shortcomings. She was too strict with the kids part of the time, and too lax about things at other times. She was too preoccupied with her own problems, and often unaware that the children were asking for her attention. She took too much time over her appearance, and was a little vain.

But, thought Yvonne, Melanie was Helen's chosen mate, and it was her duty to not only look after the children, but to solidify their love for Melanie, and she had done this diligently.

She had met a variety of people out at Helen's home: Daisy Warren-McClintock and her girl Lena, a wonderful young lady whom Helen's children—she thought of them as 'Helen's Children'—adored. Then there were several young folk from the Collegium, whatever that was, who occasionally came by to collect things from the apartment. Marissa always knew what they wanted. There were the neighbors, some older couples, a couple of single old ladies, and a newly-married young couple, and a young woman called Lucy, who had come looking for Helen. They had been interesting to talk to, whenever Yvonne had succeeded in engaging them in conversation.

Helen sat in her chair, eyes on the floor, her thoughts far away. The Connors looked at each other, communicating their sympathy and pity for the visitor silently.

Helen sighed softly, and Yvonne felt herself echo it. "Well," said Helen, looking about confusedly, her movements deliberate and slow, "I guess that settles that."

Yvonne, felt a tug at her heart. "Mother," she said quickly, "I could go with Dr. Nordstrom, to see her safely home!" She glanced at Helen, to see if she reacted badly to the offer. Helen only squinted at them through her glasses, looking lost.

"Helen," said Sheila, "wait here. I'll call and set up the procedure. You probably should not be walking around when you don't feel well enough."

"Oh. I don't know; they would be upset. Melanie doesn't know I came over."

"That doesn't matter, Helen. You should be taken to the Central Medical Center in the North End. The sooner they have you in bed, the better!"

Yvonne felt a gentle pleasure when Helen smiled then. "Oh Sheila," she said playfully, "you're no more a real doctor than I am!"

"You're going to walk home?" Yvonne asked, persistent.

"Yes, I'd better," Helen said, getting to her feet. She was tall, but her shoulders were slumped, and her hair dull. Yvonne looked at her mother, and received a reluctant nod. Yvonne ran upstairs, got together a bagful of things for herself, and changed into street clothes, a long heavy skirt and long-sleeved shirt, and a matching Dropout-style jacket over the shirt. Helen had finished one last visit to the toilet, and was just about to leave. Yvonne gently tugged at the bag Helen carried, until Helen let go. Yvonne turned to wave to her mother and sister, and hurried after Helen, who was on her way at a good clip.

"I'm kind of glad you're coming," Helen confided. "But it is a terrible imposition . . ."

"Oh, not for me," Yvonne assured her. Helen only smiled a knowing smile. "Helen, now tell me where the emergency medication is."

"It's all in the bag," Helen said, not looking up from the road. She walked like an automaton, her eyes fixed on the yard of road just in front of her. "The yellow tablets . . ."

"Yes, I see them."

". . . those are the sugar pills. They're all I'm likely to need in an emergency."

"And these white ones, and the green ones, and the blue ones . . ."

"The other medication. One of each after every meal, now."

"So many!"

Helen chuckled. After a while, she said Yvonne was good company, and the young woman glowed.

Helen did not talk at all, after that. At one point she staggered a little, and Yvonne held her arm. Then Helen pointed to a wayside rest-room, and they went inside and Helen relieved herself. Then they were off again, and Helen was plodding along. They were almost within site of the little group of buildings that were the close in which Helen's apartment was situated, when Helen came to a standstill. Yvonne took out a yellow pill, broke it in half, and gave it to Helen.

Helen nodded, recognizing what Yvonne was suggesting. She took half, and gave the other back. She felt Yvonne's hand on her arm, and leaned on her. As the sugar entered her system, she was able to walk again, and they arrived at the entrance to the apartment.

The place was a-bustle. Two paramedics were in the hall, while Melanie seemed to be packing a bag. Yvonne waited in the hall, cautiously studying the paramedics.

"There you are! Helen, why couldn't it wait? We could have arranged for the whole thing by phone!"

"I had to go in person," Helen said in a low conciliatory voice. "It was the only decent thing to do."

"Sweetheart, she wouldn't have been pleased if you had collapsed on the road!"

Yvonne saw Helen hang her head. She saw the paramedics put their travel-seat together.

"Here," she said, offering them the bag of medication. One of the young men took it, and looked inside. It was a simple fabric bag with a drawstring, probably of Earth vintage, worth a whole herd of little elephants. "The white, green and blue are her regular medications."

"I bet this yellow pill is just dextrose."

Yvonne nodded. "May I come with you?"

They looked at each other and shrugged. "There's no risk yet, as far as we know. She's still some way from renal failure."

Yvonne's eyes went wide. This was a phrase with which she was unfamiliar. The paramedic's eyes widened in response to hers. _Failure_ sounded ominous enough.

"Renal?"

"Kidney failure."

The travel-seat was a solidly constructed one, with sophisticated equipment on it. Helen was undressed, and to Yvonne's embarrassment and Helen's acute discomfort, she was catheterized, a procedure in which a hose was inserted into her urethra. She was connected to an intravenous drip, and a bag of dextrose started. They headed off, with Melanie watching, her great eyes full of anxiety. The two little girls who were watching were very upset.

Yvonne followed them to the elevator doors, up to the hub, and the hub elevator, which was waiting for them, whisked them off at speed to the Medical Center.

The hub was an exciting experience for Yvonne. She had often traveled around with her mother, but not so often that the weightless condition was old hat. Her skirt, though long, was not full. She had battled it cheerfully on the way to the hub, after which she blushingly enjoyed the process of getting into position in the hub elevator. Having fastened the safety-straps, she tucked her skirt between her knees, and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of weightlessness, and the deliciously naughty feel of _possibly_ having her skirt rise up to her waist. Her hair floated around her head, tied back though it was. She brought it under control with a more feminine gesture than her mother could ever have managed.

Sheila had thrown herself into science from her early teens. At the time in her life when this could have happened, Yvonne was in the nutrient bath, or the Vat, as Helen so crudely termed it. While scientific concepts were in the sound-world that bathed Yvonne's consciousness—or subconscious; there was not much difference—she was unable to interact with much of anything. She could _imagine_ interaction, but that was not quite the same. Jennifer was far more a scientist than was Yvonne.

Instead, the few words that Jennifer said about other young people, people she met on the way to the food store, at school, saw on the video, were all seized upon eagerly by Yvonne, who did not realize that she was starved for companionship outside the family circle. Unconsciously, also, she heard and responded to Jennifer's feelings about these people: curiosity, indifference, repulsion, fascination, and occasionally attraction, even infatuation. Since the recordings had been played over and over, she had been able to discern subtle clues to Jennifer's attitudes to these people, to distinguish between gradations of attraction. Her mother's responses to Jennifer were likewise very influential. After fourteen years, she knew both of them very well. But, most importantly, her interests in her mother's work were secondary. She knew a great deal about it; as soon as she was taken from the bath by Sheila and Jennifer, her lungs emptied and the apparatus disconnected, she had been subjected to an accelerated formal education at home. Already predisposed positively towards it, and knowing most of the concepts already, however vaguely, science, especially genetics, formed a solid base for her intellectual world. But the world of emotions, social interaction, feelings and desires was the center of her interest. Because her mind had greater capacity than that of most human beings, she was able to pursue these interests without a great deal of effort. She was not a teenager, whose whole being was focused on making sure her hair was just right while she rode the elevator in a weightless environment. She was the intellectual equivalent of a twenty-eight-year old woman, who gained great pleasure in making sure her hair was just so, and even greater pleasure in watching her effect on those around her.

The paramedics were clearly pleased with what they saw. Yvonne knew that it was churlish to show too much awareness of that, but it was acceptable to reward them with a little smile at the end of the trip. There were others on the elevator, crew, other people of unknown occupation, possibly instructors at the Academy, or people on vacation, messengers; several men of all ages, and a woman.

Helen was quiet in her travel-seat, her hands folded in her lap, completely strapped in place. She stood out like a sore thumb, all clothed in white, enclosed from the waist down in a sheath that covered the entire lower part of the seat, and the attached machinery. Unlike in standard- _g_ conditions, everything was bolted in place, and the entire contraption could float free without endangering Helen.

On the way to the elevator Helen had been very quiet, almost depressed. But as the machinery forced her body fluids through itself, filtering it artificially, Yvonne knew, she would feel better. As predicted, Helen was taking far greater interest in her surroundings. Yvonne waited hungrily for the great green eyes to come to her. And they did, and Helen smiled that wonderful, serene smile.

Yvonne's heart battled with the fourteen-year-old's need to serve her own pleasure, and the older woman's desire to serve the pleasure of the one she loved. Miraculously, the latter won out. Yvonne found that when Helen was happy, Yvonne was more than happy. The universe did not revolve around the two of them, true, and there were more important things than just happiness. But being happy was a really good start.

When they got to the Medical Center, they found the surgeon, Nick Almeida talking to Melanie Arnaud on the video phone. Melanie had finished talking, and Yvonne could see that Melanie had observed them coming in. She was just remarking that they appeared to have arrived in good order.

"It's normally a routine procedure, but we've only done a few of them. As I said, we don't expect problems. Relax. You're needed more where you are, Melanie." On the ship, as on Earth, surgeons were given great license in how they called people. Yvonne knew that Nick was a good craftsman, though he thought of himself as a Healer. It was he who did most of the surgery on board ship. There were two assistants who were quite capable, but Nick did most of the fine work.

As mother's representative, Yvonne was permitted to assist. This was her third surgery; she had so far assisted at a Caesarean section, and an appendectomy. She had performed the appendectomy essentially by herself. It had been easy. But on this one, she would let the experts do it. If Yvonne were to do any part of it and make a mistake, she would surely kill herself.

Helen gave her approval to the procedure. Her glasses were taken and put away, and she was laid out on the table and swabbed clean. Yvonne did that. She had expected Helen to turn into the piece of meat that all patients did, on the operating table, but she did not. She remained Helen. She was already under—under anesthesia—and they gently rolled her into the most convenient position for kidney surgery. Everyone left except the surgical team. This would permit them to perform procedures that were not strictly permitted, though in this instance there was no plan to do so. The new kidneys were in their glass case, looking quite ridiculous, growing out of the mushroom-shaped base onto which they had been grafted. They were genetically identical to Helen's own kidneys. There were four of them, just in case.

Yvonne was invited to make the first cut. She startled them by refusing.

"Why?" asked Nick.

"I . . . I'm very fond of her."

There was a silence that threatened to go on forever.

"Ah," said one of the assistants. "Love's sweet arrow has hit."

"Shut up, Marco!"

"Does Sheila know? Does she approve?"

The operations were on video, but they usually arranged for the recordings to be destroyed. In the end, only their little group ever saw the recordings. In cases of great official medical interest they could not destroy the record, but such cases were very rare. This was such a case, and they would allow the record to remain, but the sound would be erased. Sheila could see, but not hear.

Yvonne impatiently got them moving, blushing under her mask. They were a close group, but Yvonne was somewhat of an outsider. Her specialty was not surgery; she was along only because of her mother's interest in the particular procedures to which she was invited. But they liked her, and she found this banter pleasant. She often wondered why she had never felt a more than platonic attraction to these young folk. Nick was older, around forty. The other two seemed to be around Yvonne's apparent age, that is, late twenties.

Everything about Helen was beautiful. Even the kidney, on the brink of failure, was beautiful in its own tired way. All the organs were neatly in place, and the warmth of Helen seeped through the thin glove material to reach Yvonne's nerve-ends, to find their way to her heart. It was an odd feeling to be in love with the very tissue of a woman.

Nick harvested the first replacement kidney, and they watched him connect every little vessel back in place, with tiny, tiny stitches, cauterizing leaks with a tiny laser. He asked Yvonne to remove the last clamp, which let blood flow through the new kidney. Anxious eyes alternated between the kidney itself, and the readings on the dials. It was perfect.

The second kidney could be done at the same time. Normally, diabetics took a long time to heal, but with the clever filtration system they had spliced in, the sugar level could be artificially regulated for the crucial first twenty-four hours or so. The entire load of regulation would be taken off Helen's system, and handled externally.

"She's incredible," Nick breathed. With the sugar under control artificially, she seemed to heal almost before their very eyes. The ivory-gold-pink of her skin was her natural color. Yvonne felt a moment of jealousy. The last thing Helen needed were the attentions of crazy Nick.

The masked head turned to Yvonne. "Nothing but the best for little Vonnie, eh?"

Yvonne felt very angry. But she thought about the meaning of the words. She _had_ chosen the finest woman on the ship. She turned back to the figure lying on the table. Nick was finishing up the surgery, closing up with infinite care and minimal bleeding. He was taking even greater care than usual. He was always meticulous, but today . . . was it because he admired Helen? Or was it because he was so fond of Yvonne? Or was it both?

Suddenly, the suture was in her hands. He was inviting her to close up. It was a tiny incision, almost invisible. Full of love and gratitude and a feeling of well-being, Yvonne closed up.

"Bravo!" they all cried. "You have the hands for cosmetic surgery," added Nick.

Yvonne frowned. "What does that mean?"

Nick shook his head, dismissing the remark. "An old Earth technique. Women had themselves enhanced for beauty. I understand many of them really needed it."

There were so many questions, Nick had to give an improvised lecture on the now-defunct practice of body modification of all forms, as it had existed on pre-launch Earth. "There was breast enhancement . . ."

"Did women want smaller breasts, or larger?"

"Some one, some the other," Nick said, as he scrubbed. He continued with the various other forms. He was greeted with laughter and sometimes shock. Meanwhile Yvonne gazed on Helen's sleeping figure. Having her feelings known, and accepted, by her fellow-members of the surgical team made a vast difference. They were not what she would have called _friends._ They played the same social role in her development as _classmates_ would have, for a kid. They were potential friends. But this confession might make the difference. It might not be a change Yvonne had intended, but she could almost feel it coming. The other two apprentices, a man and a woman, were not a couple. Yvonne had put certain clues together and deduced that they had indeed been intimate, but they had other partners. They were good company; never took anything seriously, laughed at everything and everybody.

But surgery was not usually a life-and-death business, except in the rare case of childbirth, and even more rarely, heart surgery. They had never lost a life. They were far from the temptations of old Earth; lifestyles were not as sedentary as they had been, there were no businessmen, and there were no automobiles. Life was, however, very dull. There were always tradeoffs.

"I'll watch her; you go clean up," said the girl, grinning at Yvonne. Blushing, Yvonne complied. She was back in less than a minute, to stand by her friend and gaze on Helen.

"She's beautiful," admitted the girl. The men had ogled the naked patient already, and gone off, leaving the girls on their own. Yvonne picked up the thin white sheet to cover Helen, but the girl held her back. "I want to look some more," she whispered. Yvonne thought to herself, _so do I_. Seeing something, the girl leaned forward, and picked up a soft fold of flesh.

"Body modification!" they said together. There was a distinct mark of the flesh having been pierced. There were five signs of it below the neck, and seven above, all almost closed over, now. "She must have worn a great deal of jewelry," the girl said. Yvonne was beginning to resent the invasion of Helen's privacy. But she was learning a lot about Helen she would not have, otherwise. "She's so pretty now; with all that jewelry, she would have been a smasher," mused the girl. "What's she really like?"

Yvonne pulled the sheet over the sleeping Helen.

"She's wonderful. A great personality," said Yvonne.

"It wasn't just the beauty, then."

"No."

"Is she into women, too?"

Yvonne stared at her. "You saw Nick talking to her . . ."

"Oh. So that's her sweetie."

"Yes. Commander Arnaud."

The girl's eyes grew wide. "Nick called her _Melanie!_ He's really disrespectful, isn't he? Someone should slap him!" Yvonne giggled at the thought. For a few minutes, the girl's eyes were unfocused, imagining Helen and Melanie together, presumably. Then she looked at Yvonne, with pity in her eyes. "You could find someone," she said, kindly.

Yvonne frowned. "Don't make fun of me," she said, severely.

"I'm not," said the girl, surprised.

Behind them, Helen took a deep breath. The girls turned, startled. "She can hear us," said the girl, under her breath.

"Can they?"

"Yeah . . . sometimes they can remember . . ."

The tests soon showed that the new kidneys were fully operational, and there were no complications. Helen often tried to focus her attention into her body, to sense where the kidneys were, and discern any pain, or the lack of it. But she could not; all she knew was a general sense of well-being, and a new alertness.

But she had been thoroughly impressed with the fragility of her body. The disease which had destroyed her kidneys would destroy her completely. The state of chemistry research, specifically pharmaceutical research was far behind the state of genetic research, mainly because of the lack of suitable subjects, and the lack of need. There was a small team working with mice, but they were working in a vacuum.

The scientific community on the ship to which the problem had been entrusted quickly came to the conclusion that the approach taken must definitely have been gene-repair. Once the gene was identified, as had easily been done on the Ship, the disease could effectively be eliminated. At that point, there was no further incentive to improve methods of disease _management._

Yvonne used all her intelligence to find ways of being close to Helen and Melanie, and the children. She found work at a store near Helen's home, then she convinced her mother to set up a laboratory near the Collegium, and to move their research there. She begged them to give up their remote home, and find accommodations near the lab, but Sheila put her foot down. She liked it where they were, and she would rather make the daily walk, than have to live near the elevator.

The three of them were often visitors at Helen's home. Yvonne was easily able to talk her sister and her mother into a visit with her. They brought little presents for the children, or had little requests of Helen and her family—how did one make such and such? A dish, a piece of clothing, a piece of furniture. Helen loved to help them, because she loved to do things with her hands. She would spend hours teaching the Connors to do things that Yvonne insisted they needed to do, but of whose importance Sheila and Jennifer were not at all convinced. Still, for Yvonne's sake, they subjected themselves to it. Anyway, it was pleasant; they all adored Helen and the children.

At home they kidded Yvonne mercilessly about it, but after a few months, Yvonne's 'crush' over Helen was accepted as part of life.

Helen gave as much time as she could to the two infants. They were now three, and tall and strong. Diane was a vivacious, outgoing, talkative child, sweet-tempered and good-natured. Athene was also sweet-tempered and good-natured, and as tall and strong, but quiet and introspective, content to be by herself, or with the members of her family. When put together with a group of children her own age, she would watch them in a perfectly friendly way, but would approach them only if one of them was hurt, or sad, or left alone.

Most of all, the two girls loved each other dearly.

Melanie insisted that the girls grow their hair long, now that their mothers had cut their hair for one reason or another. "Just until they're in school," Melanie implored. Athene's hair, like Helen's, was tightly curled, and had to be put in a braid. Diane's hair could be done any way Melanie liked, and was worn loose, or tied back, or in a braid, as it took Melanie's fancy. The older girls were now in school, doing well, well-adjusted and well-liked among their companions.

After the various events on the surface, both Helen and Melanie were widely recognized. While before, Helen was recognized essentially as an entertainer, now her recognition was as a shipboard personality, that is, a well-known character whose recognition was not based upon her specific occupation.

Helen and all the family were finally invited over to the Connors for a meal. "We've eaten there seven times, mother, and only had Helen over to a meal three times, and Melanie never."

"But child, we have a tiny house, and how much do we know of entertaining? They eat well, and Helen knows so much about cuisine, I couldn't begin to match . . ."

"Something simple," insisted Yvonne.

"We can do it, mother," Jennifer declared, unexpectedly coming to Yvonne's support. "It doesn't have to be fancy."

"That's what you say now, but once we get going, it'll get more and more complicated."

"Well, I can't help being you, you know."

"Oh, hush!"

But they threw themselves into it, and when the Nordstrom-Arnaud family arrived, with Summer in tow, a goodly spread was ready. Sheila emerged, smiling serenely, genuinely pleased at the prospect of hosting a meal at her humble home. Jennifer appeared behind her, her face creased in a wide grin, but disappeared soon after, looking a little distracted. Yvonne finally appeared to greet them, all beautifully dressed in a blouse and skirt, with no sign of her labors on her person.

It was wonderful meal. Some of the dishes had been on the ambitious side, but they had been tasted and set aside with the customary good humor of this familiar group of friends. Summer kept them amused with a stream of hilarious stories and remarks, and the glow in the eyes of the Connors girls made Helen very content. Helen and Melanie knew very well that they were nearly 100% of the social life of the Connors, a rather daunting responsibility. But the little they were able to give went a very long way with these three amazing women. Jennifer had blossomed, from being a sweet-natured teenager obsessed with her studies, to a well-adjusted young woman, comfortable with a variety of people and circumstances.

Helen had revised her view of Sheila herself. Though she remained an eccentric old girl with highly unorthodox views concerning research and society, the latent sociability underlying her habitual reclusiveness was softening her image of being the stubborn dragon-lady. It was a matter of circumstances, Helen decided. In the recent past, Sheila had managed to get her own way. If she were to set her eyes on something the Ship's leadership opposed seriously, it could all change very quickly. As it was, her daughters, her experiments in genetics, had turned out beautifully, and were accepted in society. Very few outsiders knew all about them. So Sheila was able to be a cheerful mother of two normal-looking daughters.

Between the Connors girls and Marissa, the little ones were efficiently fed and entertained. After the meal, they gathered in the Connors's living room, and Sheila requested a song from the littlest people. They looked at each other in their inimitable way, and decided they would sing Edelweiss from the _Sound of Music_. Diane hummed a note, and they launched into the song with the confidence of familiarity. They were far ahead of other kids their age, and instead of simply belting it out, they sang tunefully and together. They were still not accustomed to harmonizing, so they sang it in unison.

Summer led the applause, crying out her appreciation. "That's pretty good!" she declared, high praise indeed from an acknowledged singer. (Summer was indifferent, but she had one of the most perfect soprano voices on the ship.) There was lots of singing, all unaccompanied, ending with a song by Helen and Melanie, and they were treated for the first time to Melanie's soft, light voice. It was a popular so-called Broadway song of the nineties, but it was beautiful.

Yvonne watched and listened, dewy-eyed. What a pretty pair they made! If music was all you needed to be happy, then Helen was happy. Yvonne could not sing a note. But there were other things she, Yvonne could give. She wished Helen only the best, and if Melanie were to leave Helen, Yvonne would be ready to help. People broke up all the time, Yvonne knew. So, while she did not wish Melanie any ill, she still longed to be the one who held Helen at night.

The kids were soon asleep, and the Connors quickly carried them to the visitor's rooms to sleep in quiet. Only Marissa and Summer remained awake. The adults talked about ship's politics, and soon Summer and Marissa disappeared, later to be found fast asleep near the younger ones.

The talk turned inevitably to Helen's health.

Melanie wanted to know why better drugs had not been found, and Sheila explained for the hundredth time. Helen simply endured this discussion. The thought of dozens of people working on a problem that only she, Helen, was the cause of; that was repugnant. But Melanie would not accept that it should be abandoned. With care, Helen's 20th-century medication would give her a long life, given that her kidneys could be replaced periodically.

Then Melanie asked the pivotal question. "Why can't they invent some—some kind of _gadget_ , something they could implant inside Helen, which would add sugar, or take it out, as needed?"

The Connors women stared at her, open-mouthed. Melanie subsided, taken aback by the reception to what she had asked. Was it hostility, or were they insulted at the novelty of the idea?

"A gadget?"

"I don't think it's possible . . . is it, mother?"

"A technological device . . . a miniature, self-powered filter . . . of course, I don't have the necessary background for that kind of thing; I don't know who does, either. Arthur, now he's the one who does that kind of engineering . . ."

"Cass's Arthur?"

"Yes, he's the inventor."

They talked for two hours, but Sheila was strangely silent.

She had finally found a challenge worthy of her. How to create an organ that does the same thing as Melanie's _gadget_ , but uses the sugar to power itself, and is composed entirely of Helen's own tissue, genetically all _her?_ One idea sparked another, and Sheila simply sat there, her mind racing from idea to idea, so many incredible ideas that she was almost mad with suppressed excitement.

"Well," said Jennifer, "Mother is off on one of her reveries."

"I can guess what she's thinking about," said Melanie, half guilty, half triumphant.

"The children . . . I wonder . . ."

"I bet they'll let me call for transportation," Melanie said.

"Oh, I'm sure they will," said Yvonne.

A short while later, a man knocked on the door.

"Commander Arnaud?"

Melanie came forward. "Which way is it?"

"In the back of the house," said Yvonne. Melanie followed the man and Yvonne. There, a few feet away from the house, was an open door set into a frame, with a couple of men waiting inside the hallway that was revealed. Melanie had Diane on her shoulder, and she went inside, and took her place in the first of the two little carts that stood behind the men. Presently Helen came, carrying Maya, followed by the other children, and Jennifer. Sheila followed far behind, a shadowy figure, too preoccupied even to wave farewell.

"Thank you for everything," Helen said to the girls, and Jennifer pointed affectionately at Yvonne. As if by telepathy, or magic, they came towards each other, and embraced. "Thank you," said Helen softly. Back in the hallway behind the door, the girls were sleepily climbing into the carts. Helen could feel Yvonne trembling in her arms, and she hugged her close. Melanie was watching, she knew.

"You must come again," Yvonne said, sounding a little hoarse. She cleared her throat. Stepping back, she managed a smile and a wave.

The door closed as the man pressed a switch, and the carts set off down the narrow passage.

"I had better watch my step," Melanie said, a smile in her voice. "That one is after my position!" Helen laughed nervously.

"She's only a child," she said.

"I know," said Melanie.

Presently the passageway angled down, and a few minutes later, angled up again, and they emerged onto a level stretch of passage with a door at the end. The man grinned at them and pressed the button to open the door. It was a few yards from Helen's apartment. They thanked the two men, and were in bed in minutes.

# Year 79: Melanie Settles In

To outside eyes, the ongoing love affair between Helen and Melanie was fascinating. As the days went by, Melanie seemed in some ways increasingly more like Helen. Her manner, the way she held herself, her speech, even her breathing became more like those of Helen. On the other hand, in other ways she was even more uniquely herself. The way she wore her hair, the clothes, her makeup, her figure, these things became more distinctively Melanie. She often wore her hair up, often wore makeup (in contrast to Helen, who wore little or none of it), she continued to wear island clothes, the colorful tunics and long silky skirts of her culture, alternating with severe suits in somber colors, for formal occasions. It was not a conscious decision to contrast with Helen; rather, Melanie seemed to already have an image of herself in her mind, and this was simply the way she saw herself. What was new was the impression her brief sojourn in the service had made on her. She loved the severity of uniform, and indulged in tailored clothes when she had an excuse to do so. She loved to be complimented on how handsome she looked in uniform, and glowed with pride.

Helen, too, found herself changing. She found herself unconsciously imitating to a slight degree the grace of Melanie's gait, not realizing her own unique grace that was admired by many without being recognized as such. The result was not bad; it was something that went well with skirts, the swinging of the hips, a kind of jaunty dance that caught the eye. If Melanie found herself adopting Helen's speech, Helen found herself increasingly using Melanie's colorful vocabulary. And most noticeably, Helen began to wear the soft, draped garments that Melanie favored, instead of the dull, drab clothes she had worn all her life. Instead of denim and drill and the yarn-died fabrics that formed the basis for her wardrobe, she began to make skirts out of the soft, flowing synthetic prints that Melanie's clothes were made of.

The ship now rotated in an orbit around the planet that conserved the most fuel. By this means, they were able to let the sun Phoebus heat the Ship uniformly. The seasons alternated now between a late spring and an early autumn, forgoing a winter. The calendar marched on, of course, but the temperature never dipped below a warm 40° Fahrenheit. As a result, Helen could wear her island clothes year round.

As far as the ship at large knew, Helen and Melanie were just friends. Because of the absence of variant lifestyles on the ship, there was no suspicion of any other relationship. After all, they both had children; the usual assumptions was that their marriages had not worked out, and they had moved in together.

To some degree, the awe in which Helen had been held had gradually dissipated. Many had forgotten that she had been a Sleeper. They were invited to many social functions, especially teen functions and similar events, as chaperones; or simply because the young folk of all three segments knew them, and enjoyed their company.

The population had now almost doubled. There were hundreds of children under the age of five, all of whom had been born after Helen had been revived. The teaching profession was now the highest-ranked, in terms of available positions. You didn't have to have a job, to have food, clothing and shelter. But it was your job that got you better housing, more privileges, and greater recognition. And music education was now a recognized part of the curriculum, and Helen's students were everywhere in the schools, teaching singing and musicianship, as well as dance, and even theater.

But Helen, in spite of her incredible success as a teacher and an influence for the better in the life of the ship, lived in constant anxiety. For whatever reasons, her sugar control seemed to be almost perfect. But at any time, she knew, things could change. She remembered with fear the sudden periods of hypoglycemia, which she had survived only because of the presence of Megan, at first, and later, the children.

She approached Sheila with an idea.

"I haven't even asked Melanie," she confided. "Sheila . . . you said there was a possibility of replacing the—dysfunctional—gene in every cell of my body. Did you mean that?"

"Oh Helen, what a question! In theory, yes. It's a painful process; there is an enzyme that can be constructed to trap . . ."

"It's kind of like being put in a vat, isn't it?"

"Vat, vat, vat! _Will_ you _please_ stop calling the thing a _vat?_ " Sheila glared at Helen. She was accustomed to Helen's peculiarities by now, but the "vat" business irked her.

"I'm sorry!" Helen was suitably contrite.

"But . . . _Yes,_ it requires a complete recirculation of your blood, as well as your lymphatic system, with systematic substitution of one gene for the other. It is very slow, Helen, very slow indeed."

"How long?"

"Months. A year, possibly. Every single cell has to be restocked with the proper gene; think about it!"

Helen was thoughtful. "What about cells that are . . . far from the blood vessels? Like bone cells, or . . . I don't know . . . brain cells?"

Sheila waved Helen to silence, her brow furrowed in concentration. Just as she was making some headway with one problem, here was another! Did Helen and Melanie do nothing but dream up problems to torture her with?

"And meanwhile," Helen said, "Melanie must bring up the children all by herself!"

Sheila stared up at Helen. What was the problem?

"I can't do that," Helen said, rising to her feet. Sheila saw a movement behind Helen in the distance, and recognized Vonnie. The girl was obsessed with Helen; she could be depended upon to spy on Helen whenever the latter called.

"It doesn't have to be that bad," Sheila insisted. "Remember how we treated Melanie?"

"You can do it in _two weeks??_ _"_

Sheila closed her eyes, summoning up her reserves of patience. Helen could be trying, sometimes.

"No, but we could rig a treatment that lets you stay with your family, with the children. It would still be a year, but they would have you, Helen. You could talk to the children, be their parent."

Helen sighed, and following Sheila's eye, turned and caught Yvonne watching. She smiled and waved, and Yvonne disappeared. Helen turned back to Sheila with a smile.

"I don't want to hurt her by encouraging her," Helen murmured with a sigh, "but I'm genuinely fond of her, Sheila!"

Sheila stood and gripped Helen's arm affectionately. "Be yourself," she advised, as unhelpfully as countless others over the millennia. "Be honest in your feelings. Anything you pretend will hurt more than the truth."

Helen nodded slowly. "I think you're right."

Sheila tapped her forehead. "Something to think about," she said. "I won't sleep tonight!"

Melanie, surprisingly, was for the gene replacement. "Do it!" she said.

She had often lain in bed, with Helen in her arms, and visualized Helen's affliction as a cruel enemy, that turned life-giving energy into a poison that corroded her beloved from the inside. She imagined syrupy sugar slipping through Helen's veins, coating them with a layer of varnish-like material that left them unable to do anything. When she had described this to Helen, the latter had laughed and said that was not the situation at all. The sugar simply fails to penetrate the tissue that can make use of it, she explained. The destructive effects were confined to certain organs . . .

But Melanie always ignored all that. Her image made sense to her, and she had clung to it. Helen's own body had turned against her. Melanie regarded that with deep bitterness and resentment. In her eyes, Helen was a wonderful, remarkable girl, who had a great deal to give her, and her children, and the world. Diabetes was a personal enemy, a hated, vicious, insidious enemy, who never fought fair.

"Do it," was her immediate reaction, her first word and her last. "I can manage everything. The children, you, the house, everything. Do it!"

By February, Sheila declared that she had designed the apparatus. It was based on an EVA suit, as Melanie's had been. Art and she had spent many weeks going over the design, and they began to create it. Helen herself helped, when she learned that most of what it took was ordinary skills with traditional tools. Yvonne also came to help, as soon as she learned Helen was involved. The work was straightforward, mostly plumbing. The connections were standard things; they would fit into things embedded in Helen's body, ports, as they were called. She would spend a few hours in surgery, and end up with connectors all over her body and her head. The suit would be filled with the nutrient solution, and Helen would be connected to the hoses that would make sure she never needed to do anything but eat and sleep. Her bowels and her bladder would be evacuated automatically, and she would enjoy perfect health while she was under treatment.

Athene was the most insistent about being told about the details of what would happen to Mama.

"First I have to have an operation, and they put faucets on me, so they can connect the medicines to me."

"I don't like that!" she said firmly, her face on the point of dissolving in tears.

"But darling, it could mean that I become completely well!"

"But you _are_ well!"

Melanie tried. "Sweetheart, Mama had an invisible sickness; that's why she has to take all those pills, remember? It is very frustrating to have to do that all the time."

"No. She's fine, and she doesn't need any faucets. They shouldn't do that!"

"It's Auntie Sheila, dear; she doesn't mean any harm, you know that," Helen said, in a reasonable voice.

"I _hate_ Aunty Sheila!" sobbed little Athene. Helen was startled; she did not know the word _hate_ was in Athene's four-year-old vocabulary.

Helen was deeply saddened by Athene's reaction. Diane had taken the news philosophically, but Athene was not to be consoled. Melanie felt guilty for having pushed so hard. That night, their lovemaking was more to console each other than for pleasure. Helen's body had always given Melanie delight; her partner's ecstasy gave Melanie a wonderful feeling of power. Helen was an incredible lover, certainly. There were good reasons why Helen could pleasure Melanie so effortlessly. But tonight, they caressed each other, with the fear and anguish of their little daughter hanging over them.

"I can't back out now," Helen said finally, "though god knows I want to!"

"You've always felt second-rate, because you're the only diabetic on board." Helen stiffened in her arms, wondering if Melanie could read her mind. "I know, love . . . you never said so, but I know you hate it. You hate to be a nuisance. I do, too!"

"To be a nuisance one last time, and never again!"

Melanie held Helen's beautiful face in her hands and looked into her eyes. "I can't believe I got you," she said, her voice full of wonder. "The most wonderful girl in the world!"

Helen buried her head in Melanie's breast, and Melanie could feel the heat in it. Helen looked back into her eyes, resting on her forearms, so as not to crush her.

"Don't say stuff like that," Helen begged. "Others can say it, and I don't care, but you shouldn't. You're the one who tamed me, who picked me out, and fought for me." Others had told Helen how wonderful she was, but it had been Melanie who had given herself to Helen wholeheartedly. Theirs had been truly the dance of love. Melanie understood both the mental and the physical parts of Helen, and the first blush of love was still with them, after four years. Helen had only once before been satisfied with one partner for so long.

"She says she hates Sheila," Melanie muttered. "That makes me very sad."

"She doesn't like the faucets," Helen suggested. "That was a dumb idea."

"It was, I suppose . . . but what else could have made sense to her?"

"You think I should do it?"

"Yes. Once she sees you, she'll be all right with it. After all, she saw _me_ in the bath."

"But for you, it was all on the surface."

Melanie sighed. It was the faucets that would bother Athene.

## Faucets

With unnaturally long memory, Athene screamed when Helen left for surgery. "No! No! Don't go!" she screamed. It was the first time anyone had heard her scream. Helen cried that she would be fine, over and over again, but the last Helen saw of Athene before the surgery was a face red with the realization that Helen would not listen to her. She fell completely silent, putting all her fear and defiance into one long glare. And Melanie shut the door.

It was surgery at its most invasive. Helen was conscious the whole time. When they were done with her, she looked in the mirror, and was aghast. She ached all over her body, there were bruises everywhere, and she bristled with ports in what seemed to be a dozen places. There were interfaces in her breasts, in her crotch, in her scalp, everywhere. Yvonne had assisted with the surgery, and Helen could see even in her eyes, how repugnant she looked, like some cyborg.

Yvonne glanced round the room, and the surgical team made itself scarce. Sheila was scrubbing; she had been present to observe, and was well satisfied. Helen stood, magnificent in her nakedness, and Yvonne wondered how she could be so turned on by the sight.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," she breathed, "I love you!"

"This is not the time, Yvonne," Helen said, her face filled with sorrow and misery. "I'm still trying to get used to this . . ."

"I'm not asking for anything!" Yvonne said, "I'm just telling you!"

Helen made an impatient sound, and began to walk around, trying out what was left of her body. It hurt to take a single step. Yvonne watched, with almost unbearable excitement. It was frightening to recognize what created lust in her brain. The ripple of Helen's muscles did something to her. She moaned softly.

"Well!" said Sheila, coming back into the room. "You look like a space monster!" she laughed.

"I'm afraid to face the children!" Helen cried. "Athene is scared to death already!"

Sheila's grin disappeared.

"Good heavens," she muttered, "that's a big problem. You _do_ look frightening."

"I know," said Helen, relieved to know she was not alone in her anxiety. She looked at Yvonne, and was frustrated and repulsed by the lust in her eyes.

Sheila followed Helen's glance, and glared at her daughter.

"Don't stand there staring, girl, get a grip on yourself," she snapped at her, and Yvonne stumbled out to the scrubbing area. Sheila looked at Helen. "You have to understand her," she murmured, "this kind of thing would turn her on." Sheila sighed. "She's so young . . ."

"I can't wear regular clothes with this stuff," Helen complained.

In the end, they improvised a garment for Helen that consisted of sheathing her in a silky fabric from ankle to neck, essentially a bandage. She now looked more a freak than ever. The strand of blonde braid that hung down her back was the last insult to her appearance.

She set out for home, with Yvonne. "Don't you get carried away," she had grumbled to Yvonne, and the girl had promised she wouldn't. "There is one problem, and I must warn you now!"

"Oh, don't worry, Helen, this is nothing to worry about. I just . . ."

"Shut up and listen!"

"Helen!"

" _Listen!_ I told Athene that Auntie Sheila was going to put a number of faucets into me. She said that she hated Auntie Sheila!"

"She's only a kid, Helen, she'll forget soon enough," Yvonne began. "Give her time . . ."

"When I turn up with you, guess who she'll hate?"

"Oh."

Helen sat in the travel-seat, which was a wheel-chair, as far as she was concerned. "It's not too late to have a paramedic take me home!"

Yvonne came round to face Helen from in front.

"I'm through with hiding how I feel for you," she said firmly. "You belong to Melanie, and I love her, and I respect that. I'm not about to break up your family. Do you want to deny me the slight satisfaction I gain in conducting you home?"

"Do you want to be hated by my daughter forever?" Helen was way beyond impatience. "You're a nice kid, Yvonne, but you must have misplaced your brains today!"

For the first time, Helen saw Yvonne angry.

"Are you ready, Dr. Nordstrom?"

Helen nodded. She let out a long, painful breath, and closed her eyes, as Yvonne wheeled the chair out.

All the way home, Yvonne was gentle and careful, and Helen regretted her harshness. The feel of Yvonne's hand through the silky fabric was soothing, and Helen allowed herself to be calmed by it. It was ironic that once she was enclosed in the bath, she could feel no human touch. Suddenly she hungered for more, and each touch of Yvonne's slim fingers was like heaven.

At long last, they arrived at the apartment, and Yvonne tapped on the door. It was early afternoon, and Helen wondered who would be home. Melanie would be there; she had taken leave for the week. The little ones would be there, too, probably, unless they had been persuaded to go to school.

It was Melanie.

"Oh dear god," Melanie gasped. "What have they done to you?" She stared at Helen, forgetting everything, then looked at Yvonne, and took in her fatigues.

"Is all this necessary?"

"Yes, ma'am," Yvonne stammered. "We didn't take any liberties with that!"

"Let's go in, quickly . . ." Melanie hustled them into the apartment, and stood there, staring at the apparition before her. Yvonne squirmed, suddenly out of her depth. It was all well and good to be infatuated with Helen, but another matter entirely to be in the middle of a family crisis. She had come to love each and every one of them, but faced with their non-scientific prejudices, and their peculiar brand of visual technophobia, Yvonne simply could not help.

Yet Yvonne could not bear the horror in Melanie's eyes.

"Mel," she said, "we just wrapped her in this material . . ." she proceeded to loosen the end of it, to begin taking it off. "It's just wound, round and round . . ."

" _No! Keep it the way it is!_ " gasped Melanie. "The children will be scared to death!"

It was too much for Helen. She grabbed at her head, trying to claw at the ports attached there.

Both the other women screamed at once, pulling Helen's fingers away. Melanie was white-faced. Furious, she hit Helen hard on the fingers, hard enough to make Helen snatch her hand away. Kneeling by Helen, her eyes brimming with tears, Yvonne took Helen's hand in her own and tried to comfort it.

"It's not easy for Helen either, you know," Yvonne said quietly. "But it will be worth it!"

It calmed them all down. The three women held each other gently. With broken words, they comforted each other. It was a moment Yvonne never wanted to stop.

But with a long breath, Helen prepared to get up. "I can walk," she said. "The chair was because I'm half naked." She stood up and walked about. Because of all the hardware, she could only manage a sort of strut. All the femininity was gone, except for the little of her breasts that swelled between the ports, and her braid, that still swung down the back of her head. They had shaved the scalp in patches, rather than shaving it off altogether, and most of her hair was still attached to her scalp. The rest was in her braid, but would fall away the second it was combed out.

Seeing Yvonne so miserable, Melanie felt pity.

"You must be tired, Vonnie," she said gently. "After you give Helen a hug, you can head on home. We must get ready for the kids; they'll be here soon."

"If I can help . . ."

"If I need help, I'll have to call you," Melanie said. The sight of Helen pacing up and down was frightening. Like Yvonne, Melanie was fascinated by the sight, not entirely repulsed. Her brain told her she _should_ be repulsed, and Melanie could only stand there, in baffled confusion.

"Thank you for understanding!" Yvonne said, and Melanie gave her a quick embrace. What could she dress Helen in, before the kids arrived?

"Helen?" Yvonne laid her hand gently on Helen's arm on a spot clear of attachments. Helen stopped pacing, and after a pause, slowly turned to face her. "I should go," she said softly. "I hope . . . I hope, very much, that all goes well. I love you!"

Helen slowly embraced her, obviously afraid of hurting her, and herself. The attachments were some of them very sharp, and there were lots of edges. She would never have been allowed home in this state back on Earth; the fear of litigation would not have permitted it. _I'm so conditioned by my own appearance, I don't feel human any longer,_ she thought. But Yvonne clung to her hungrily for a moment, and then let go. She murmured a farewell to Melanie, and hurried away. Helen and Melanie stared at each other, like some incredible genie and her stunned mistress.

Before they could react, Yvonne poked her head in the door. "They're coming!" she hissed, and disappeared.

"Mom?" called Marissa, coming through the door a few seconds later. "Guess . . . Oh my god!"

The children all reacted with screams of fear and disgust. But Athene took one look, and fainted.

Helen could not go near them for the longest time. Finally, Marissa made herself come to Helen, and inspect her closely.

"Did they put this cloth on you, because clothes wouldn't fit you?" Helen nodded, grateful to the child for this little attention. "Shall I take it off?" Helen murmured Yes, thanks.

Patiently Marissa took the silky bandage off, folding it in a pile on a side. When she was done, she stood back, and forced herself to smile at Helen.

"You don't look so bad," she said, making her voice sound almost believable. Melanie wanted to come and give her a touch of appreciation, but little Diane in her arms whimpered a warning. Impatiently, Melanie put her down. She ran crying to Maya, who stood a good distance away, watching suspiciously. Melanie gave her oldest a fierce hug.

Finally, all but Athene were able to look on Helen without fear. But Athene was violently sick, and had to be put to bed with a sedative.

Evidently, Helen's bath was far more repulsive-looking than Melanie's. It was brought out late that evening, and Helen got into it, all the connections were carefully made by Sheila herself, and the bath was filled. Whereas Helen had looked like some robotic superhero before, she now looked like a monster, pure and simple. Only Marissa would come near.

"I'd rather die," sobbed Helen. "What's the use? The children are scared to death of me!"

Nor was Athene content to avoid Helen. She spied on Helen from a safe distance, and muttered threats. "It's not Mama," she growled, "it's a monster." It was clear that the child was furious at Helen for allowing the transformation to take place. She knew perfectly well that it was Helen, but was taking her vengeance on her mother. It showed some rather unpleasant aspects of her personality, in particular, her vindictiveness. Helen was appalled at what she felt must be a tendency that lurked in her own psyche. The desire for vengeance was something she had never felt in herself.

More than a year, Helen thought to herself, trapped in this thing.

That night, she reclined on one of the chairs, as a mild sedative put her to sleep.

As soon as Athene fell asleep, she woke up screaming. Melanie tried her best to cope, but the child was beyond reason. She was afraid to sleep because of the nightmares, and when she did sleep, out of exhaustion, she had her nightmares again. Helen slept through it all, but Melanie could not sleep a wink, nor could Marissa.

Helen had to be given anti-depressants, though Sheila thought they would slow the process. Melanie tried to sit with Helen and talk to her, but now that Athene was awake, she could hardly keep her eyes open. Daisy volunteered to take the kids, to let Melanie rest. When she came to pick them up, she gasped at what she saw. Truly, Helen had become the most disgusting thing they had seen. For the most part, Helen's face was clear of hoses and wires, but the expression on it was enough to repel anyone.

Daisy took the children with her, and for a while there was peace. Helen walked about the house, and Melanie slept. The older girls were at school. Later in the day, Melanie stirred to make a little lunch for herself. Helen needed no lunch; the suit provided. She wasn't hungry; she wasn't thirsty. There was absolutely nothing to do. She picked up a book and began to read. It was hard, because the helmet visor misted over.

The children returned from school, and forced themselves to talk to Helen. They reported on what they had learned, and then went to their rooms. Maya came back, presently, and chatted a while. She alone, of all the children, could talk to Helen at length, completely forgetting her appearance.

Athene was undergoing a personality change. She was hard and unyielding, uncooperative, unhappy, and often vicious. She was unkind to Diane, but she would suddenly burst into tears and say she was sorry. She was driven to be mean to her sister, and then filled with guilt. Daisy saw firsthand how Athene struggled to reconcile her love for her twin with her need to act out her hostility, which she dared not aim at Daisy, for some reason.

When she began to get them ready to return home, Athene and Diane both begged to be allowed to stay. When asked why, they said that Mama had become 'something else.'

It was the longest, most miserable week of Helen's life. She had not realized how important little Athene was to her general happiness. Diane's avoidance of her hurt, but Athene was _hers_ , her very matter, blood of her blood, flesh of her flesh. If Athene loved her, anything was bearable!

What was worse, Melanie was kept awake at night, alone with the hysterical child, while the sedative put Helen to sleep almost instantly, for the whole night. All day, Helen pondered on how Melanie must curse her, for having to deal with Athene by herself. The second day, Athene's nightmares were down to four, and three the next night. But there were a minimum of three interruptions of sleep every single night.

Helen sat, with Melanie seated by her side, holding hands.

"I'm exhausted," Melanie whispered.

"You must love her, even if you hate me," Helen said. "If you begin to hate her, she has nothing!"

"How can I hate her?" Helen could almost follow Melanie's thoughts; they knew each other so well. "But when I see what she does to Diane . . ."

Helen wept. They saw daily signs of Athene having done the cruelest things to Diane, pinching her until she bled, biting her, and saying cruel things to her. She always claimed to be full of remorse afterwards, but it was beginning to stink of very adult hypocrisy.

"What can I do?"

"I don't know!" Melanie's heart hurt with the burden of keeping the family running. "How does it feel? Do you feel any better?"

"Mel, I've always felt wonderful; diabetes doesn't _feel_ bad. But now . . . I feel worse than ever! I feel as if I've been beaten with a pole on every inch of my body, for a month!"

"Blurry vision, frequency of urination, dry mouth?"

"N-no, none of that."

Melanie sighed. "You must want some sex real bad. I can hardly stand it."

"I was trying not to think about it!"

"I'm sorry," Melanie said.

One day, when Sheila came to visit, Helen poured out her woes to her. Sheila, unaccustomed to being that sort of confidante, sat and listened, Helen's complaints a burden on her that she could not deal with. To her, problems had to be solved. She did not understand the concept of "a burden shared is a burden halved."

She suggested numerous ideas, some of which made Helen feel even worse. With great patience, Helen managed to keep from throwing her out.

"You must have your own problems," Helen said, hoping to change the subject.

"No . . . I only worry about you," Sheila said sadly. "I can't help feeling responsible for all this. What if it takes years and years?"

"Well, we won't be any worse off than we are, already," Helen said, feeling worse anyway.

"Oh Helen," Sheila said, her hand comfortingly on Helen's, but Helen could hardly feel it. "This probably isn't any consolation, but . . . Yvonne is worried sick about you. She knows all about the kids; she's found out from somewhere." Helen simply waited. She did not have the energy to make conversation anymore. "It's frustrating to be in love with someone, and not be able to help!" Helen closed her eyes in disgust. "I guess it was rather an academic exercise in . . . romance, or what have you, to begin with," Sheila continued, while Helen tried to ignore her. "Then the other day, something changed. I think instead of knowing in her mind that she cared about you, her entire _body_ responded. To us, of course, that's the normal state of affairs. Stop me if I'm making you sick! Well, anyway, she loves you, Helen. I know it's a little strange, but . . . no stranger than what you have here, hon."

Helen heard the front door slam. Melanie had decided to leave them alone.

"I'd like to go to sleep, and wake up when this is all over," Helen said.

"I thought you wanted to be awake, to help Melanie with the kids . . ."

Helen groaned. If not for the investment she had made in the project already, she would have gladly asked Sheila to take it all off, and give her her life back.

"Maybe you should put young Athene in a vat, Helen."

Helen froze.

Sheila warmed to her idea. She had sounded tired and laconic, but now she was alert.

"Listen to this. We put Athene through the accelerated growth program. She's intelligent, she has your genes, she'll be strong and healthy! You already have a year of sound recordings. She can already read a little—yes, Yvonne told me!—she can speak perfectly well. With the technique we use, she won't have any nightmares, she can't hurt her sister, and the rest of the girls will be no trouble to Melanie. We can knock you out, Yvonne could help Melanie with the children; she loves them." She was getting excited by the minute. "Melanie will be alone for a year. But you survived one year of separation, Helen. You can survive another!"

"You can't be serious!"

"I am! Athene is now a terrible child, and she won't be normal until you're out of that thing! What better way to deal with her than to give her two years of development in one year? When you wake up, she will be six, ready for school, with two years of recorded experience in her! Instead of this cruelty and viciousness, she will remember herself as the sweet, gentle child she has always been!"

It was powerfully persuasive. Helen wondered what ulterior motive Sheila could have, other than to see if her machine worked. But most of all, Helen clutched at the idea that Athene's behavior was hurting no one more than Athene herself. The memory of these acts of cruelty would surely twist her permanently, if they were to continue. At the moment, Diane still loved her sister, but that could change.

"Like hell I will!" snapped Melanie, when she came home. "The woman is mad!"

"No, love, think about what's happening to Athene! Every time she hurts Diane, that's one more memory of cruelty in her childhood. From all I know, that's very destructive. It's as bad as being abused by someone else. I'm abusing her, by being in this thing."

"Oh god," Melanie groaned, resting her head on her hands. "It's a nightmare. I can't take it anymore. I can't. I swear, I'll leave you if you do it."

But Diane came home with pinch marks right over her eye, and Helen went berserk. She grabbed Athene right out of Daisy's arms and held her through the mitts of the suit. Athene screamed and struggled.

"I am your mother," Helen shouted at her, her voice tinny over the speaker. "Was it you who hurt your sister? Your sister who loves you so much? Why are you doing this? Why? Tell me why!"

"Because I hate you!" screamed Athene, pummeling Helen's visor with her little fists. She shrieked and shrieked, beating at the helmet until her hands were thoroughly bruised. Then she began trying to bite at Helen's mitt.

Daisy grabbed her back, her face expressionless.

"Stop that!" she said firmly, and Athene froze, staring at her. Trembling with fury, Daisy spoke to the little girl. "Nobody hates anybody! You cannot hurt one person, because you're upset at another person. That's weakness. _Nobody_ likes this suit Mama is wearing. We _all_ hate it. She hates it too. But you're the only one who hurts her sister!"

Athene's face melted into tears of remorse. She aimed one last venomous look at Helen, and ran inside to find Diane, who was skulking in the room they shared. Athene grabbed her around the waist, and sobbed her remorse. Helen walked to the hall, and stood watching, overcome with grief.

They were all in tears, including Melanie and Daisy.

## Uneasy Truce

At last, Athene was reconciled with Diane. Until then, Diane had not entirely trusted her, but she seemed to have forgiven Athene all, and they went to bed together, and all seemed well, until Athene woke them all up, screaming.

"I can't sleep here," she said quietly to Melanie, looking warily at Helen's sleeping shape in the chair.

"Why, darling?"

"I had a nightmare. I saw Mama."

"But that's not a nightmare, that's a good dream!"

"No. She was trying to eat me."

"Darling . . . she isn't eating anybody. She doesn't eat at all . . . look, I'll show you!" Melanie could hardly believe that Athene was coming with her. Through the visor, they could see Helen asleep, her face a frown of worry. The machinery hummed quietly, pumping her body fluids through the filter, where Sheila's incredible enzyme trapped Helen's genetic material, and released the corrected DNA back into her system.

"I want to touch her," said Athene. Melanie studied her face for some sign of deception. But no, the child was making a valiant effort to come to terms with her mother's condition.

"We can't darling. She has to be this way for a year. Until you're five," Melanie said, indicating the number.

"Why?"

"You know how Mama gets sick?" They nodded. Both children were in Melanie's arms. "Well, Aunt Sheila found a way of cleaning up Mama's body. But she has to be in this washer thing for a year. All of her has to be cleaned, inside and outside. She has to be thoroughly soaked, and then she will never be sick again!"

Incredulity battled with hope in their eyes. All Melanie's resentment of Helen was gone now, as she saw how the two faces echoed each other. Somehow, in Helen's womb, it was as if their souls had mingled, and she held in her arms two magical halves of the same spirit. Sheila's idea of forcing growth on just one of them felt more outrageous than ever.

But Athene refused to sleep. Her nightmares were not things she had control over, and though she insisted she wasn't afraid of Mama anymore, she simply could not sleep.

She no longer attacked Diane. She no longer ran away from Helen. She sat near Helen and had long talks with her. But sometimes they wondered whether she really believed it was Helen, or whether she had simply had pity on the monster, and decided to be nice to it.

There was no joy in the little girl. She had never been a sunny child; that was Diane. Athene had always been a quiet little girl, smiled more than she laughed. She did have a lovely giggle, but it had not been heard for weeks. And she kept awake all night. She began stealing out of bed to come sit with Helen, as if being near the monster would keep it out of her dreams.

Life became easier, if not more pleasant. Helen sat and read most of the time, Melanie went through the motions of running the house. The children went to school, and did reasonably well. Diane and Athene played quietly in the house, or around the garden. But Helen and Melanie were miserable.

It took a month before Melanie snapped.

She begged Helen to let her go.

"I don't know who I am any longer," she explained. "I want you completely well. I don't want you to give up your chance to be perfect! But . . . I can't stand myself, I can't stand the kids, I'm depressed!"

"Please, Mel, call Ted; there must be an antidepressant you could take!"

"Guess what. I've been taking one for a week. If I stopped taking it, I'd kill myself," she replied. "I'm taking 25 mg, the strongest dose they allow!"

Helen got to her feet. Melanie hated when she did that. She towered over them all, looking more like a monster than ever. "I've gotta get out of this thing," Helen swore. "I was so happy before I thought of this! I've been a fool. I've made you suffer needlessly! Melanie . . . you have to stay!"

"Are you sure?" Melanie was suspicious. Helen had promised to give up the experiment several times, and been persuaded to continue. No one cared about what Melanie thought.

Suddenly there was a noise at the front door, and Cass Holt appeared. She stared at Helen and let out a long sound of amazement.

"Holy cow, is that you, Helen?"

"Yeah," Helen said, unenthusiastically. "You got here just in time to see me take this thing off!"

"Now hold it," said Cass. She looked about, and saw Melanie looking suspicious. "Melanie, where are you going?"

"Going? I was just talking to Helen! You have no right to come in here, and accuse me of leaving!"

Cass went a shade paler.

"Hold everything. Everyone come here and sit down. I want to know what's going on!"

Helen took a deep breath, and told her. It had been a long while since Cass had been around on one of her visits. Since Melanie had returned, Cass had found other things to do. Now Helen told her every detail about what had gone on.

"Melanie can't take it anymore, I can't take it anymore, and nor can the children. I'm throwing in the towel," she wound up.

"Do me a favor," Cass asked. "Try it one more day!"

Helen groaned loudly, but agreed. Being trapped in the suit seemed to sap her will. Melanie said she'd give Cass a day to come up with a plan. But that night, after the children had settled down, and Athene had woken and come over to sit with Helen, she silently slipped out of the house. She headed up to the elevator, up to the hub, and over into Ocean, which had now been restored to its former condition. She went out to her old beach house, and looked to see whether it was occupied. It was empty, all the furniture exactly as she had left it. She sat down and cried herself to sleep.

"Melanie will leave tonight, I know it," said Cass to Alison and Sheila. They were all seated in Sheila's living room, thoroughly depressed. "How long has she been in the thing?"

"About three weeks," said Sheila.

Cass looked at them, her face full of sorrow. "I would give anything to have this thing work out," she said. "I'm very fond of that woman. She's given 150% for the ship, and without her, we would be in far, far worse shape. I've been in charge of this piece of space junk for twenty years, but I tell you, she's done more for it than I have."

"You can't destroy her to heal her, Cass. If being in the machine, or whatever it is, makes life a misery for her, we should get her out of it. The cure is worse than the disease!"

"It's the children! If they can be looked after, we could knock Helen out, and accelerate the process! With her unconscious, we can certainly do the filtering in a year!"

Yvonne burst into the room. Sheila looked at her in annoyance.

"We could keep them, mother!"

Cass and Alison laughed. They had heard about the impetuous Yvonne, and her infatuation with Helen and the kids. Alison knew that the children would not be hard to find homes for. They were not only well-behaved, they were universally loved, and there were scores of people who would take the children in for Helen's sake.

There was a call for Cass, and when she had finished talking, she reported that Melanie had left Helen's home. "I'm very sorry," she said softly. "I will visit her, and see if I can persuade her to do something a little less destructive. She needs Helen as much as Helen needs her." The others agreed, though Cass wondered how sincere young Yvonne was.

The next day was traumatic for the children. A whole army of social workers and crew descended on the apartment, and before she knew it, Helen was sedated, and carried out to a conveyance. She was taken out to Sheila's laboratory, taken out of the suit, and placed in a normal nutrient bath. This was simply a shallow glass tank in which Helen was laid, completely immersed in a thick fluid, a more concentrated version of the fluid she had been in thus far. Her circulatory system was altered not so much to sustain her in the conventional state of existence, but to replace every cell in her body as rapidly as possible. This happened in most humans in a long time, but in the bath it could be accelerated to a very high rate. Certain bones and other tissues were literally too ossified to replace, but conversely, they had little influence on her endocrine system. The components of the endocrine system itself were the easiest to replace.

The children were shocked to learn that Melanie had left them. "She'll be back," Maya said repeatedly, looking round the house. Melanie had taken little with her, and it was possible to convince oneself that Melanie had simply gone out on an errand. Alison assured Maya that Melanie would indeed come back, but in the meantime, Aunt Sheila and Aunt Yvonne would care for them.

"Where's Mama?" asked Diane and Athene, meaning Helen. They were taken out to the laboratory and shown Helen, softly breathing under the glass lid of the tank, and they began to scream. They had to be hustled out quickly.

"I don't think she can hear everything," Yvonne said, "but if you cry, you will scare her! She will think you're in trouble, and struggle against the sedative!" Of course, none of this made much sense to the kids; as far as they were concerned, they _were_ in trouble.

When the children finally agreed to be calm, they returned to the room to look at Helen. Helen's skin had a greenish cast due to the glass container. Many of the ports that had been installed in Helen were no longer needed, and had been removed. Though Helen still had a formidable array of hardware on her, she looked far more recognizably human, even immersed in the fluid. Athene was still very unhappy, but Diane was able to accept it. The older girls were still devastated by what amounted to abandonment by both parents.

"I would really like to be allowed to have you stay with me," Yvonne told them solemnly. She addressed them all, but mostly Marissa.

"Okay," mumbled Marissa, and the others were silent, their great sad eyes speaking volumes.

Yvonne looked at Cass, and Cass agreed with a solemn nod of her head. The children looked at Alison; she was the one person they weren't suspicious of. They could see that she was not entirely happy, and in Marissa's mind, at least, that was a point in her favor.

## In the Tank

Helen struggled up through layers of feeling that seemed determined to keep her asleep. As if from an infinite distance, she could hear odd sounds that she could not place. She could not tell where she was.

It was a while until she realized that she did not know _who_ she was. It was like swimming up from an immense depth, until she floated in an awareness of her identity. For a brief moment there was something vaguely like panic, when she remembered unfinished business from long ago, an itch in her mind that told her she should be _somewhere else,_ but it went away.

Then the chinks and ticks and tocks began to make sense. _Glass,_ she thought.

Glass. Water. Warmth. Sleep. Breath. She was breathing. There was no real discomfort, except for the weight of the fluid in her lungs, which was a discomfort that she barely noticed, because of its familiarity. It seemed to take ages until she put it all together.

Her body refused all commands, except for breathing, and even that seemed regulated externally. Someone was breathing _for_ her.

I'm in the vat, she told herself. It had taken a long time, but now she knew. And she only felt a great disappointment. No anger, no frustration, no fear. I can't do anything, lying here. I could be playing with the kids. A great pity.

From a great distance she heard voices, but they were low, intimate, just murmurs, really.

"She can hear!"

"Of course she can, dear, but not when the system is turned off."

"No, no; I mean, when we talk like this!!"

A pause. There was a smile in the second speaker's voice—a woman; they were both women—when she spoke next.

"No, Vonnie, you know only the piped-in sounds register, and only when we turn on the . . ." the next few words made no sense to Helen; they were evidently discussing a control feature, some drug that triggered a listening attitude in the subject. "Look at the meter . . . it's flat!"

"Look, Mom . . . look again!"

There were sounds as if one of them walked over. It was as if they were close by, but at the same time, far, far away.

"Oh, ignore that," came the second voice, in a soft, soothing tone.

Helen's attention wandered a great deal. When there was silence, instead of making her anxious, it simply made her think her own thoughts. She could think of very little to do with her life as it was now. She mostly recalled old, old memories, of her childhood, her school days, walking around by herself, standing under a tree, or watching a bird. There was a constant soft rush in her ears, and it didn't feel particularly quiet.

There was one regret, though. She longed for something, and it finally came to her what that was. She longed for company.

The Collegium folk, Helen's colleagues and her students, knew more or less what had happened to Helen; she had been taken ill, and was being worked on by the medical staff. It involved some complicated electronic methods, and they believed that she was far away, in the axis of the ship. The children knew, but in the aftermath of the traumatic events of those days, they were not inclined to talk about it. Athene kept saying that Mama was in a tank, but her little companions paid little attention.

One day, Yvonne heard the phone ring; Helen's personal phone. She frowned; it was supposed to be de-activated; everyone who had need of legitimate access to Helen had been channeled to others who could speak for her.

"Hello?"

"Helen? Is that you?"

"Who is this, please?"

"Oh, sorry! I was wishing to speak with Dr. Nordstrom! Is this still her number, please?"

"Yes, but . . . who are you, may I know?"

"Helga."

Helga? Yvonne frowned. She knew enough of Helen's affairs to be confident that Helen knew no one called by that unlikely name. She took a breath to politely turn the caller away, when the phone went dead. Yvonne was upset. No one had ever hung up on her before.

Yvonne's days were very full. The children, as well-behaved as they were, still took a lot of attention. Yvonne threw herself totally into taking care of them, learning every skill she had not acquired already, studying all the information she could lay her hands on.

The children gave her a quiet affection that was like a drug. Even as disciplined a woman as she was, she could hardly resist the desire to soak in all that trust and faith that Yvonne received from them, as the adult who had taken the place of both Helen and Melanie.

About a week later, Melanie arrived at the house. She looked like hell; drawn, pale, her eyes bloodshot. She stared at Yvonne at the door.

"May I come in?" The children were all in bed.

Yvonne had pity on Melanie. She sat and listened to her talk her heart out. Melanie was full of guilt for having allowed herself to be driven off. She had gotten drunk, and slowly sobered up.

"I hardly drink," she said, her face twisted in embarrassment and a kind of painful tension. Her brow was furrowed in a permanent frown, as if she was finding it hard to concentrate. "I'm not going to drink another drop in my life," she promised.

"Of course, you won't," Yvonne said, quickly. "It was just a reaction to . . . Helen's surgery!"

Melanie squinted at her, still frowning. "Yes, yes . . . I remember you . . . er, you helped with that."

"I would do anything to cure her, Melanie."

"Do you love her?"

For the first time, there was something like amusement in Melanie's voice. Yvonne wondered how Helen could have chosen this woman to be her lover. She was shallow beyond words.

Yvonne blushed. "No, of course not!" she mumbled. She hated to lie, and here she was, lying. She wanted Melanie to go away. "It's only that . . . it seems so _wrong,_ " she said, lamely.

"May I look at the girls?"

Yvonne watched Melanie studying the children as they slept. Her face relaxed, and once again Melanie was beautiful, as she gazed on them. For the first time Yvonne realized how beauty was only partly to do with external appearance. It was a lot to do with feeling.

Outside, Melanie kissed Yvonne, and hurried away.

## The Dropouts visit the Surface

It was inevitable that the Dropouts would sooner or later overcome their distaste for dealing with the ship, and ask to be conducted down to the surface. They would have approached Helen, through Lucy, if Helen was available, but she wasn't, so they had Lucy ask whomever might be able to help, and she asked Daisy.

When Lucy arranged to meet Daisy on a Saturday near the Collegium, Daisy had been polite and as friendly as always, but clearly a little puzzled. When Lucy actually saw Daisy, she was shocked at how much she seemed to have aged.

"I hate to bother you," Lucy began, and Daisy was quick to shake her head and smile. "You know I used to be a Dropout, right?" Daisy nodded. "I still am, sort of." Daisy nodded. This was getting awkward. "Miss Warren, I . . ."

"Don't be nervous, Lucy, it's all right! Just call me Daisy. What can I do for you?"

"Well, the Dropouts want to go down to the planet, that's it. See, they feel odd to go talk to the Ship folks, so they're being, like, indirect about arranging for it." Lucy flushed. She felt put upon to have to convey this request to Daisy, who really had nothing to do with it. She was asking Daisy because she knew Daisy would not make a fuss about it.

"Oh." Daisy understood the problem right away. "I see . . . I could talk to Melanie," she said, coloring a little. Lucy did not know what to make of that, but Melanie had been much in Daisy's thoughts at various times.

"Can she help?"

"Melanie is the civil administrator of the planet. She lives up here, but . . ."

"Could you ask her? I've never spoken to her!"

"She's really nice; if you come with me, we can talk to her together."

While Helen was undergoing treatment, Melanie had had several very difficult months, but eventually she had returned to the apartment, and taken charge of the children, having gotten over the embarrassment of having Alison and the Connors girls take responsibility for Melanie's and Helen's children over the intervening months. Soon she had settled into her responsibilities as the Civil Administrator of the planet.

The Dropouts were not familiar with the details of what had happened to Helen, but Lucy was vaguely aware that Melanie would take their petition seriously for Helen's sake.

Administering the planet was not difficult; Melanie had a small staff on the Voyager as well as on the surface, and she spent less than an hour a day with planetary affairs; the rest of the time she was a teacher once again. Daisy knew Melanie well enough that Lucy and she could walk over to the apartment in the early afternoon, and be received by Melanie.

"How many of them?" asked Melanie, and Lucy reported with great embarrassment that _all_ the Dropouts wanted to go. By this time, some twenty months after the first lot of tourists had been taken down, the list of those who wanted to be ferried down had thinned out considerably, and the shuttle went down twice a week with twenty people on board. Only those in good health were allowed to be taken down; the planetary administration wanted no problems with the old and feeble and people with any health conditions.

Melanie was firm. Lucy was sent back for a list of ten Dropouts, who would have to share the shuttle with ten non-Dropouts who had to go down for specific reasons.

One momentous day, ten Dropouts strapped into their seats with ten other passengers, and endured the rigors of being ferried down to the surface. The trip was not terribly uncomfortable, but of course, nothing on board Ship could have prepared them for the experience. Once they emerged onto the surface, even if they were restricted to the area inside the Bubble, most of them loved it. Three of them found it hard to bear the open black sky, but the other seven could hardly tear their eyes away from gazing at the sky, and the vast distance to the horizon.

Over the next several weeks, most of the younger Dropouts made the trip, and some begged to be taken again, and Melanie interceded with Commander Hutchinson to allow the Dropouts preferred status for visits to the surface.

"I know they've hardly earned it, Ma'am, but this is doing a lot for Dropout morale."

"Well, try and negotiate something in return, Melanie. We could really use them everywhere on the Ship; everyone is pretty sick and tired of their shirking their turn at doing any sort of work!"

It turned out that the Dropouts could be persuaded to work on board ship, but they would gladly take any sorts of jobs on the planet surface. They would mine, they would clean; they would cook, if they were shown how. Soon they were working on the farms, learning how to repair mechanical things, and Alison was amused and pleased when they shyly began entering the workforce as engineering apprentices.

One day, Daisy was surprised when a contingent of Dropouts showed up at her doorstep, bearing a number of gifts. Gifts, in the ordinary sense, did not have any meaning on board Ship, where you could have anything you wanted, within reason. But these were hand-crafted things, lovingly made specifically for Daisy by Dropouts, and Dropout children.

"What's this for?" Daisy exclaimed, embarrassed and shy. Lena was now a lovely fifteen-year old, and she was present, with Summer, when the deputation arrived, and they were both much amused to witness the meeting.

"We're very grateful to you for helping to get our people down to the Planet," a spokeswoman said. "It is making a big difference among our people!"

Daisy went back to looking over what they had brought, and it so happened that she liked many of the gifts, and she began to talk about them with the younger ones in the group, some of whom had actually made some of the gifts, and soon the awkwardness began to fade. Suspicion of the ship and its crew was too deeply ingrained to disappear overnight, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for the Dropout leaders to depict the Ship's crew as oppressors.

# Year 80: Helen Is Removed from The Vat

After Helen had been in the Vat for a year, Sheila finally admitted that the treatment was not working. Sheila had at first inspected Helen every day, and had sensors in the tank that monitored the solution, as well as sensors attached to Helen's body that read her vital signs. But she had held off making actual blood tests for a while, because it seemed a particularly invasive procedure. She had considered running Helen's blood through a filter that would replace the DNA in the blood cells directly, which the members of her medical team outside her family were urging her to do, but Yvonne would not hear of it, and Jennifer stood behind Yvonne's decision. But now they could no longer avoid making a thorough examination of Helen; this was a new procedure that they were putting Helen through, quite different from that which Yvonne had been put through. _That_ was just a matter of accelerating her natural growth; there was no fooling with her blood involved. The integrity of her body had been preserved. Here, what they were trying to achieve through the surface of Helen's skin, generalized to her intestines and her lungs, was apparently too slow to be effective.

They took a tissue sample, and several blood samples, and went fearfully into the lab, and studied what they got. The results were not just disappointing; they were alarming.

"What's that?"

"That's a . . . measure of how well she's metabolizing the nutrition."

"But . . ."

"Yes. She's in a bad way."

"We _know_ she has trouble with that. She's diabetic; don't we _expect_ that?"

"It's gotten worse, Jennifer."

"Mom, this sequence is scaring me. Come look at this!"

Helen's tissue was degenerating. It was slow, but the Connors women were not happy with _any_ degeneration of Helen's tissue, and it sent them into a tailspin. Yvonne was in tears, but Sheila and Jennifer, too, reacted to their findings with very unprofessional panic. After a while, they regained their composure, but Yvonne insisted that something decisive should be done right away, and secretly the other two agreed in their hearts that it was time to stop experimental procedures, and to take direct action.

The first order of business was to take Helen out of the vat, and take a look at her kidneys. They were ready with replacements, but that was only a temporary fix.

"The numbers aren't much worse than they were when we replaced the other ones, Yvonne," said the surgeon. But Yvonne was not consoled. Both kidneys were replaced, and soon Helen's endocrine system was temporarily happy.

Cass Hutchinson was just as unhappy as the Connors women, and Art, though he gave the impression that he thought Cass was overreacting, was also uncomfortable. The thought that Helen Nordstrom's health was declining was very alarming.

"We have to tell Melanie and the children," said Art.

"No! That will confuse the whole problem!"

Art shook his head firmly. "They have legal rights. We can't run over them roughshod in making these decisions!"

"We're doing this for her own good!"

Melanie was furious when she found Helen gone from the vat. When she found out where they had taken her, she arrived with all four children, and soon Daisy, Lena and Summer were also arrayed around Helen's naked body, draped with only a clean sheet. Athene and Diane were now nearly four, and quite tall for their age. Diane watched Helen with worried eyes, while Athene looked in turn at Helen's unconscious body, and the adults around her, her expression grave, her lips tightly closed. Lena studied her, looking worried. Diane was a sweet, good-natured kid, but Athene seemed always a little resentful, though she said nothing.

The surgeons had finished their work, and moved back from the operating table, and presently Helen came out of anesthesia.

"What's going on?" were the first words out of her mouth.

"How do you feel?"

Helen's eyes were narrowed against the bright lights, and Yvonne turned the brightness down. Sheila and Jennifer were trying their best to look calm and in control, but to Lena's and Summer's eyes, they looked a little worried.

"My eyes are a little blurry, but . . . I feel okay," said Helen. "I guess it worked, huh? How long has it been?"

"No, sweetheart," said Melanie softly, as Helen's eyes fastened on her, "they replaced your kidneys, but . . . things are pretty much the way they were."

"Oh god!" Helen said, with a groan. "Don't tell me that! I can't go through that again! Where are the children?"

Diane and Athene moved over to where Helen could see them, and essayed smiles.

"Oh, my darlings! Come here . . . how lovely you look! My goodness, how long has it been? Nobody's telling me!"

"One year, Mama," said Athene quietly.

Helen could hardly get enough of them, and presently Athene unbent almost completely.

"Get me some clothes, Mel, I want to get off this thing, and come home!"

Somehow, with Helen conscious again, everything seemed better, and the Connors women almost felt that things were under control. Everyone went to their respective homes, but Cass and Art had a quick supper, and soon they were talking with Sheila and her daughters, while Helen was in the bosom of her own family, and Alison and Daisy were in the Warren home, discussing things with Lena and Summer.

It was Lena who wondered aloud whether the best way to halt Helen's decline might not be to put Helen back in hibernation. "She doesn't age, right? Doesn't that mean that any problems she has, any degenerative stuff is slowed down, too?"

"Yeah," said Summer. "Her diabetes will slow down, too. It can't just keep going when she's in the freeze."

"That will certainly buy us some time, to find a solution," said Alison to Daisy, looking thoughtful.

"But think of the children! Did you see how they brightened up when Helen woke up?"

That solution would never have occurred to the Connors, but when Alison broached the idea to Cass, she and Art took to it at once. "That's exactly it," Cass said, snapping her fingers. "That's what we need. It's better than the vat, because her tissue will not degenerate!"

"What's _degenerate?_ " asked Lena.

"It's . . . The DNA sort of falls apart, frays at the edges, you know? Just aging, really."

"She won't age in the freeze, for sure, right?"

"Don't say _The Freeze!_ It's not a freezer!"

"It sure looks like it; I was there when they thawed her out!" Summer did not approve of splitting hairs about terminology.

When the idea was put to Helen's family, that is, Melanie and the children, Melanie screamed in frustration, but then was silent, covering her eyes. Helen shook her head, no. But Athene, Diane and surprisingly, Marissa, once they were told the issues, all agreed that there was no better option than to return Helen to hibernation.

"There isn't going to be any . . . faucets, right?" asked Athene. Her voice was now perfectly modulated, not the childish lisp it had been when they had toured the Tropical segment. "No surgery?"

"No, no; it's all done with . . . chemicals, through the bloodstream."

Athene shuddered. She looked at Helen. "Are you afraid?"

It took a long time for Helen to admit, "Yes, a little. I did it once, you know."

"When?"

Helen closed her eyes briefly. "They put me in hibernation before I was put on the ship. I was born on Earth, girls. I should have told you all this. I would have, only . . . I never got around to it, and . . . you were infants."

"Wow," said Diane.

## Art Sends Another Capsule

When the first courier probe, _Helen I_ —it was called a probe only because it was so small; barely four feet in length—had been launched, it had been just large enough to house a power source and an engine, and the radio transmitter and receiver. All the ingenuity had gone into the transmitter and receiver, and though they had put in the most sophisticated navigational devices they had developed for the cutters, and for exploring the planet, no new ideas had been used in the propulsion systems; it was basically an ion engine.

As Helen's condition continued to get worse, Art spent a lot of time thinking about whether the propulsion system of the probe could have been improved, and presently he began, on his own, building a second probe. It was while he was engaged in this plan that the discussions about putting Helen in cryostasis began, and suddenly Art realized that if either of the probes reached Earth more than a century in the future, it would be assumed that the mission of the probe was in vain, because Helen would have presumed to have finished her life. In cryostasis, of course, Helen could, in principle, live a—chronologically—very long life indeed. The medical information being requested by the probes, too, could in principle be useful no matter when it was received. In addition, there was some suspicion that Cass, his wife, was developing something that looked very much like diabetes. So, while some people were genetically predisposed for developing the disease, anyone could get it, depending on their lifestyle. Art had no illusions about who was first in Cass's heart: it would always be Alison McClintock, even if Allie was firm about not letting it get too crazy. After that came the children and the grandchildren, and Art was a close third. Cass always treated Art as if he were an idiot child, even though she was well aware of how much of an amazing scientific brain Art was. But for Art, there was only Cass. So the second probe's broadcast message emphasized that time was of the essence, but that the information should be sent regardless of whether it could be used for Helen Nordstrom's benefit.

He had a few young fellows helping him, and they made a joke about keeping the little project a secret, but soon they found themselves absorbed in solving the problems. A couple of them asked Art whether a really sharp friend or two could join them, and Art reluctantly agreed. It turned out that one of them had some interesting ideas about the artificial intelligence of the guidance system, and the operating system, which would cut in to conduct a sort of conversation with whichever terrestrial communications system first received their signals and contacted the probe. In other words, once one of the two Helen probes got close enough to Earth, they would come in radio contact with satellites and various unmanned spacecraft that were in radio contact with Earth, and they would have to begin explaining what they wanted to these spacecraft, and gradually link with Earth.

It had been Art himself who had headed the communications group of the Ship, a sort of small-scale SETI (Search for Extra- Terrestrial Intelligence) project within the exploration and colonization project. That initiative had been largely automated, and had been given over to some eager young people to manage, and it was one young fellow from that group who had begun to contribute to the communications artificial intelligence module on the second Helen Courier Probe, _Helen II_. For this second probe, Art used newer, more sophisticated materials, which were lighter, and therefore allowed the probe to undergo greater accelerations, and therefore greater velocities, and it was sent off in a more efficient trajectory, to capitalize on the gravitational possibilities of various star systems on the way.

In addition, recognizing that there could be other probes that had been launched from Earth that could pass within communications distance of _Helen II_ , the programmers had made use of a little-known segment of code from the earliest Earth probes, which enabled them to co-opt each other's communication programs, to relay urgent instructions as part of their communications streams. In short, if _Helen II_ were to encounter Voyager 1, just for the sake of example, Voyager I would also become part of a network of probes demanding information about advances in the treatment of Diabetes on behalf of Helen!

## Plans for Refreezing Helen

It was a battle to persuade Helen herself to subject to the hibernation routine, and Melanie was completely opposed to it.

"At least one person must take the view that Helen is not primarily a sort of piece of software, which can be archived as convenient! Her rights as a human being must come first! She has a wife! She has a child! She has a family!" Melanie began to feel tears on her own cheeks, and she was furious. She stabbed a glance at Helen, who should have been supporting her, but Helen was looking indecisive. In fact, Helen seemed on the brink of agreeing to the procedure. "We're all human! We age, and we die! It is a right to be allowed to live a normal life, and . . ." She was out of words. It seemed an incredible imposition to tinker with human affairs as Cass was trying to do.

There was a disturbance at the door, and Summer was sent out to see who it was.

"It's somebody from the Dropouts," she said, in her usual casual way. "They want to see Grandma Cass."

"Oh Jeeze," said Cass, heaving herself up from her seat, and then she fell back into her chair. "Just send them in, Summer!"

The Dropouts had sent a deputation to Cass personally, asking for some very specific things, and it was initially a little confusing for them to have to either blurt out their requests to all who were gathered there, or to say they would see Cass another time. But, as it happened, they somehow got drawn into the discussion about whether or not to subject Helen to cryostasis once more.

Nobody was listening to Melanie, and Melanie picked up her pack, and holding a cloth to her wet eyes, she marched out of the apartment. The conversation stumbled to a halt, as Helen looked after the departing Melanie, who was shortly followed by Marissa and Maya. Little Diane was torn between following her mother, and staying with Helen and Athene, who simply had to find out what would happen next. The Twins now understood exactly what was going on, surprising for four-year-olds.

"We need your help desperately," said one of the Dropouts to Helen, in the quietness.

## Helen is Frozen

The big petition the Dropouts were making was that they wanted to be left behind on the planet when the Ship finally left.

A few of the Dropouts had decided to leave with the Ship, but the majority of the Dropouts wanted to stay. After long discussions, and after Alison had carefully taken, and archived, DNA samples from each of the Dropouts, complicated plans for enabling the Dropouts to stay behind were put together.

The relative lack of education of the Dropouts was an enormous handicap. They cooperated, and their best and brightest were given intensive courses on all the material that regular kids on the Ship were taught as a matter of course. Jennifer and Vonnie Connors were two of the volunteers who undertook to teach the Dropouts, and Helen watched them at their respective blackboards—which were the preferred medium for teaching—in their classrooms, and was amazed at how good they were at this job.

One solemn day, Helen once more stepped into a sterilizing shower, watched by everyone on the Ship and the planet, via video feed, dried herself with a sterile towel, stepped back into the cryostasis case, the needle was inserted in her arm, and Helen dropped into oblivion. Melanie had come to watch. She covered her face, and having waited until all the other spectators had left, gazed on Helen through the transparent cover, and slowly departed.

# Year 100: Helen is Revived

Helen was dreaming. She was controlling Cutter Alpha, and she was urging it towards the planet. Part of her knew that it made no sense to head straight in into the surface, but the rest of her seemed to think that if she headed headlong into the surface, all would be well.

She wanted to pee, but in moments she seemed not to need that anymore. Then she became aware of the fact that her eyes were closed, and she realized what she was doing: She was in the deep freeze again. She was waking up.

Over the next several minutes, she began to remember what her situation was: She was diabetic, and the medical team on the _Galaxy_ did not know how to stabilize her blood sugar. She was not particularly badly diabetic, but because she was the only one, it seemed a particularly terrible tragedy for everyone. Then she remembered a number of episodes of hypoglycemia, where she had been unable to stay upright, and the little girls, Maryssa, Maya, Athene and Diane had helped her handle the episodes.

Then she heard a familiar voice.

"It looks like she's waking up," said the voice, but Helen could not concentrate well enough to place it.

It was some time later that her struggle to open her eyes succeeded, and her eyes finally focused. The light level was mercifully dim, and she looked about her. There was a uniformed figure checking something close to her head, and then the face came closer and smiled at her, and Helen felt a surge of pleasure at the welcome in those eyes. She knew already she was on The _Galaxy_ , but something was subtly different.

There was a slight disturbance away to the right, and the heads turned in that direction. Helen had visitors!

By the time she had been checked out carefully by staff she did not know, it was just beginning to sink in: these were not people she knew. It was many years in the future; she had been "frozen" for a long time. Once again, all the ones she loved were dead and gone. She had to begin all over again. She fought the tears with all her strength, but finally she sagged, the spoon halfway to her mouth, and let the tears flow. Then, for the first time she noticed a familiar face: it was Yvonne Connors!

"How did you get here?"

'Vonnie' smiled. "Shh," she said, "just rest! You're not back to a hundred percent yet, Miss Helen. There are a lot of people waiting to see you."

## Flashback: Adventures of the Probes

It was the second probe, _Helen II,_ which first succeeded in making contact with Earth, still at some five light years away. It was with some difficulty that it established exactly what it was, even as it hurtled closer and closer at the enormous speeds that it had achieved.

"Report, please," came the command, with all the authorizing code words it had been instructed to accept by Art and his team. They had packed the unused data fields of the probe with as much general information about _Galaxy_ that they could think of, because after all, the mission of the probe had not been to provide news, but rather a very specific request.

The request was sent out just as soon as the news had been dispatched: Dr. Helen Nordstrom's endocrine systems were degrading. It provided precise information in the form of standard biodata; there was no way to give a complete DNA molecule, because of the natural variation in Helen's DNA due to aging.

The incoming information was analyzed by humans, because this was Earth, and it had been more than two centuries after _The Galactic Voyager_ had departed, and those manning the communications systems had never imagined receiving a report from it once it had passed beyond communication range. Not least was the problem of trying to understand who exactly this Dr. Helen Nordstrom _was_ , in the first place. Her fame had not survived more than a decade after she had been put aboard the _Galaxy_ , as the ship had been called for several years in the Earth media. As long as messages from the vessel continued to be received at relay instruments stationed at the fringes of the Solar System, there had been considerable media interest, kept alive by the families of those who had left with the ship. But while this interest lasted, Helen had been still firmly in hibernation. The complex plan to maintain communications with the departed ship had gradually been forgotten both by those on Earth, and those on the ship.

Humans of the 23rd Century were pretty much like those of the 21st, except that they knew more, or rather, knew different things. Science historians were consulted, and after brief excitement, the medical establishment was brought in, and the strange situation on the exploratory vessel was understood: one of the experts on board had got through the careful filtering for genetic predisposition for diabetes; in fact _all_ the experts placed in cryostasis had escaped inspection for genetic diseases.

This was an opportunity to send back an enormous volume of information! The communications people were called in, a few minor scientists in the several organizations that had developed from the American NASA were brought into the new project to support the science on board the distant _Voyager_.

What was the exact nature of this probe? Where was it? How could it be induced to return with the information? Would the information get back in time? Wait a minute: by this time, wouldn't Helen Nordstrom be long dead?

The sad information was received that the probe ( _Helen II_ ) had been traveling so fast that its feeble control engines could not steer it clear of dangers lurking in the outer Solar System: the probe had met with disaster.

After the initial dismay, the memory dump of the probe was examined in detail, and it turned out that it was in fact the _second_ of two probes that had been dispatched from _Galactic Voyager_. The first was a slower probe, which was still on its way.

The science team of the project on Earth set about to firstly, slow the probe down, then to create a package of medical and other scientific information that could be made use of by what was evidently a tiny relic of 21st-century science, some fifty light-years away. If not for the accident that Art Greenberg had decided to send off a second probe, the message would never have reached Earth. As it happened, while _Helen I_ was still very far from Earth, it received a packet of data and instructions that persuaded its guidance systems to swing round a convenient mass on its path, head back towards _Galaxy_ , and relay the information back to the _Galaxy_ repeatedly, to the extent that its power sources could fuel the transmission.

The information that the _Galaxy_ finally received was cause for both delight and concern.

## Flashback (to Year 80-81)

Once Melanie had realized that Helen had chosen cryostasis over her, Melanie, she felt utterly abandoned. She found herself talking to the only adult she was close to, Daisy. Melanie's circle was small, consisting only of Daisy, the children, Helen, Alan, and Chisako. Chisako and Melanie had met a couple of times, and both meetings had been highly emotional. Melanie and Chisako had hugged for several minutes, trembling with the intensity of their feelings, in a private room of a coffee-shop in Tropical. Chisako's face had become gaunt; she had aged over the several months, and though she looked elegant and refined, Melanie was alarmed at how desperately happy Chisako had been to see her. They had communed in silence for a while, after which they had cautiously talked about their families, and it had been wonderful. But very quickly Melanie had realized that if they continued to meet, it would destroy both their families. It was funny how you understood things about a friend only once you had gone your separate ways. Chisako was such a comfortable person to be with, that Melanie, who still loved Helen intensely, was afraid of how she felt about Chisako. Even more, she was afraid of how Chisako felt about _her._ The second time they had agreed to meet, they had brought their kids along: Chisako had brought little Yoko, and Melanie had brought Diane and Marissa. Chisako's eyes had shone as she had greeted Marissa and Diane, and Marissa had taken Yoko under her wing, and they had gone round Tropical, having a lovely time. But when the time had come to depart, the pain in Chisako's eyes had been the last straw.

Daisy was easy to talk to. They met all the time, because Daisy was a major presence in Helen and Melanie's home. Melanie saw Helen's decision to submit to cryostasis as going over to the Connors' camp, whereas Helen was thinking more about Athene and Diane. Daisy knew instinctively that this was the case, but Melanie felt the burden of Helen's past decisions to go against what Melanie had wanted, and this was the last straw.

Daisy was surprisingly firm. "Don't ask me," she said, gravely shaking her head. "I think she should be allowed to do what she thinks is right."

"That's fine," Melanie had said, looking away. "You don't have to agree with me."

"What do you want to do?"

"I'm going down to the planet," Melanie had said.

"The planet? But you _can't!"_

"Oh yes, I can," Melanie had said.

A few months earlier, Greg had retired, and Cass had been appointed Captain. Elections had been held, and to no one's surprise, Melanie Arnaud had been elected Chief by a large majority. So far she had led the ship well, and handled the problem of the interest of the Dropouts in the planet with diplomacy and tact.

Now Melanie took her decision to remain on the surface to the Council. There was a lot of anger and dismay, but Melanie commanded a lot of respect, and though Cass Hutchinson disapproved strongly, and threatened to retire, which would have meant that Melanie would become Captain, and therefore tied to the Ship, Melanie stubbornly refused.

Daisy had agreed to join Melanie on the planet. Alison, her heart like lead, had supervised the obtaining of genetic specimens from the two women. And then, to everyone's shock and amazement, Summer Levin had announced that she, too, would stay on the planet. This was all twenty years ago.

## Welcome Committee

There was truly a large number of people waiting to greet Helen on awaking, only a few of whom she recognized, trying hard to conceal her dismay.

Alison McClintock was the first. She had put on hardly any weight, but she was grey, and her bright and kindly eyes looked more than ever like those of her mother, Lizzie. She came forward slowly, and smiled down at Helen, making her feel welcome. "You are such a sight for sore eyes!" she said, dashing away a tear. She immediately made room for the others, though Helen had not finished with her.

"You haven't changed at all," Helen said, politely, but she knew her face showed clearly just how much she adored this quiet, restrained woman, whose mother had been so _feisty;_ there was no other word for what Lizzie had been!

Next to Alison stood Marissa, all smiles, and next to her, Maya, both grown up women now. They greeted Helen shyly, but with warmth. There was Diane, and Helen held out her arms for her, and they hugged a long time. Diane barely spoke a few words, a complete contrast to her habit of talking constantly as a baby. Helen could hardly get enough of her, almost exactly like Melanie had looked, when Helen had first seen her. Diane spoke and dressed very differently, much more like Helen's extended Temperate family. "I took the liberty of wearing some of your clothes," she said, and Helen wondered why Athene was not there. There was a lot she was not being told.

Then there was Sheila Connors, looking just lovely.

"Finally decided to open your eyes, did you?" she demanded, and Helen laughed, echoing the laugh in Sheila's eyes. Helen mumbled something indistinct; her brain was moving as slowly as molasses in winter.

Moving round the circle, Helen saw a very familiar face, but she could not associate a name with it. It was a lovely woman, about Helen's own age, with beautiful, compelling eyes, and an intent, eager expression, and it was the look in the eyes that finally told Helen who it was: it was Lena, all grown up!

"Lena!"

"Yup! Took you long enough!" The voice was lower, but just as sweet, or sweeter. Oh god, thought Helen, this was too much. She could hardly get enough of that face, those eyes, and that seductive voice. There were no two words about it: Lena was a major beauty, and something told Helen that it would be a mistake to leer at her too obviously.

Finally, there was Lucy! Lucy looked ample, her dimples now more prominent, her eyes twinkling. "I had to be here when you woke up!" she said, in the voice that was so familiar. Then her face became serious. "There's so much to tell you, but . . ." she glanced anxiously at the faces around her. "But not right now. You . . . you get back on your feet, and . . ."

"Yes, there's plenty of time," said another woman in nurse's fatigues who Helen had assumed was Vonnie, and Sheila nodded briskly. Helen asked the question that was on the tip of her tongue: where were Melanie, Cass and Art, and Summer, and Daisy? And her own Athene?

"I'll visit tomorrow," Lena said, her face solemn. "There's so much to tell you. But Helen, you look terrific! You look well rested, and nice and fresh," she stated, getting back a lot of her cheerfulness.

Helen found it difficult to get her head around all she was seeing. The guests had all departed the Freezer Room, as it was called now. It looked smaller, and 'Vonnie' confirmed that it had been remodeled, and the extra space put to another use.

"I know I must look familiar," the woman who looked like Vonnie said, "but I'm not Yvonne, whom you knew, Dr. Nordstrom! I'm a clone. My name is Maddie! Madelyn," she explained. She was attending to Helen very much as if she were a nurse. She was wearing surgical fatigues, and seemed to know what she was doing.

"Good heavens," Helen exclaimed. "Is that common, now? Cloning, I mean?"

"No, no; only you, and Captain Arnaud, and my grandmother, Sheila Connors have been cloned."

A wave of misery washed over Helen.

"Athene . . . what has happened to her? Oh _god_ . . ."

Maddie revealed that Daisy Warren had stayed with Melanie Arnaud. Most of the Dropouts had stayed, including some of the oldest and feeblest, who had only been taken down to the surface with the greatest difficulty. In fact, the total number who had stayed behind was 200, including Summer Levin, and, to Helen's horror, her own child Athene.

Helen could not get her head around that. In the first place, she could not understand why her own child would abandon her, and secondly, why the twins would split up: Diana and Athene. She had been so convinced that they would never part!

## Lena's Report

It was taking longer for Helen's systems to return to normal this time than the last. It was partly due to her age: she was biologically closer to forty, now, whereas she had been just thirty-four when she had first come out of cryostasis. Maddie was in charge of her, but Maddie's interests were very specific, and she said that they were all waiting to tackle Helen's health issues very soon; but clearly the history of Helen's family and friends was less important to her, and Helen had to wait until Lena came to visit, in the private room of the Medical Center to which Helen had been moved, to learn all the details.

"Well, you know Mom stayed on on the planet surface."

"Yes, Vonnie told me. I mean, Maddie told me."

"Is she listening?" Lena asked, looking a little furtive.

"I don't think so. I don't think she's too interested in all that!"

Lena nodded. "I didn't think she would be, at that," she concurred. "Well, we didn't know, but Mom and Melanie had—sort of a relationship."

Helen nodded, turning red. She had forgotten how direct Lena could be. "I knew," she confessed. The intense grey eyes studied Helen's face and then defocused again.

"And Summer stayed too. And little Athene. She argued with Cass Holt, Aunt Helen; then she said that because Melanie was staying, she would be okay, and she didn't want to be zooming around in space, when she could be helping the Dropouts. Something like that."

"Jesus! And they let her do it?"

"Melanie was staying, Aunt Helen. Did you know Melanie was elected Chief of Ops?"

"No!" Helen had known it would happen, but she was startled nevertheless.

"Uh huh. Then she resigned, and took back Planetary Administrator. They had to have an election before the Ship left orbit, and Gran got elected. Then Cass Holt died, and Gran is Captain now."

"So who is Chief?"

"You recall someone called Sita?"

"Oh, yes, Sita Chawla?"

"Yup. She's Chief. She's good. Very scientific. But she's the same age as Gran; they should elect someone younger."

Helen had been going on pure adrenaline for most of a day. Her mind had not fully caught up with all the information she was receiving. Maddie's measured, but highly individual way of giving Helen important information had had Helen's mind working overtime to process it. With Lena, though, Helen had other difficulties. Lena, having been strongly influenced by Helen in her teens, was more like Helen than she was like either Daisy or Alison, or even Summer, the other major influences in her life. So the information stream had now swollen into a flood, and Helen was kept off balance, despite her calm appearance.

Lena had looked forward to this moment for twenty years. She studied Helen's face like a hawk, for every sign of confusion or anxiety, any sign that Helen needed time to assimilate what she was being told. She had a lifetime of experience she wanted to bounce off Helen, and had stored it up for just this meeting. She was just as off-balance as her beloved adopted aunt, Helen, but was only beginning to realize it a half-hour into the interview.

"Oh . . . it's so good to have you back, Aunt Helen," she said quietly, after they had sat for a while in silence, staring at each other. Helen's attention, which had been briefly turned inward, reeling from the onslaught of news and information, snapped back.

"But... if your mother had stayed behind on the planet . . ."

"Yeah . . . Ben and I lived with Gram, and . . . Aunt Cass—Cass Holt, and Summer's mom, you know . . . we were fine. We really were!"

"Summer's mom—what was her name, Ruth?"

"Yeah, Ruth!"

"She didn't strike me as the motherly type," Helen said, scowling.

Lena smiled, her eyes crinkling up, and shook her head, agreeing with Helen. "We were fine!" She thought, her head on one side. "Ben is married, and has a little boy, Robert," she said.

"And you?"

Lena shrugged, still smiling. "I teach, part-time. Music, chemistry . . . mostly music and chemistry. I write . . ."

"No kids?"

Lena shook her head, and smiled again, her eyes glowing, and Helen wondered whether she was being headed off from a sensitive subject.

Suddenly the itch in Helen's mind crystallized.

"Athene! Where is she? What . . . why . . . _Why_ did she remain on the planet? But . . . won't I ever see her . . . see her again? Are they gone forever?" Helen felt her composure evaporating. "And Daisy . . . Lena, how can you live like this?"

"Helen . . . keep calm! Keep calm, please. It doesn't help to . . . to panic." The smile was gone, and Helen could hardly bear the look of guilt and sympathy in Len's eyes.

Helen wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes tight, and began to rock back and forth in anguish. Lena had been seated on a chair close to Helen; now she rose and came to sit on the edge of the bed, and put her arms around Helen, and Helen felt calm flooding through her, though the thought that she would never see Athene again was like a knife stabbing at her. Oh, those thin arms that held her tight: how well she remembered them! They weren't as thin as Helen remembered them, but Lena had been a skinny child, and she had grown into a delicately-boned woman, like her fairy-like mother.

The calm Lena conveyed to Helen somehow made Helen's eyes tear, and soon she was weeping quietly, the shock and anger having given way to grief.

"I know," Lena whispered. "I know . . . I've got used to the idea that . . . I won't see them, but . . ." She heaved a shuddering sigh, and pulled back to look at Helen's face. "Are you all right? I mean . . . Shall I hold you . . . or do you want to talk?"

Helen pulled her back. This was no time for talking. Helen's heart was bleeding, but even as her heart bled, she thought about how Lena had been separated from her mother, and even more, little Ben. What a sacrifice it must have been for both mother and children!

As Lena sweetly comforted her, Helen began to realize how Athene must have perceived Helen's "freezing". There had been so much ripping apart in that tumultuous time that Helen's family had been hurt in terrible ways. Helen had not been in her right mind. She had thought of going into cryostasis principally to be able to live long enough to see Athene and Diane through their years growing up, and to be there when they needed her. And she was here for Diane, but Athene had made this incomprehensible counter-move, to make Helen's sacrifice meaningless.

"She must hate me," Helen whispered, and Lena knew what she meant.

Lena pulled away, and moved back on the bed, to make it easier for them to look at each other, but kept her calming hands on Helen's arms. Helen stared at her hungrily, thinking how much of her mother's healing touch the woman had inherited.

"Hate is a passing thing, Helen," she said softly. "I remember she was angry. But I don't think it was hate."

Helen had just remembered Athene's fury at Helen's submitting to having "faucets" installed. Oh man, that had been such a foolish move. It had all stemmed from Sheila's innocent remark that people with Helen's disease, or condition, or whatever word she had used, often did not live very long. Helen had never followed up on that statement, but only used her reasoning to accept it: it was _obvious_ that a diabetic would have more health problems than someone without the disease. From that moment on, Helen had been obsessed with trying to live as long as she could, but she had not reckoned with the cold fury that must have impelled Athene not to be present whenever Helen was revived.

Fairly soon, Helen became aware of the distress of her companion, and managed a damp smile, as she searched Lena's face, and saw signs of tears being held back. There was so much empathy on that face, but also so much control.

"I can't believe how mature you are," Helen said, immediately thinking to herself how difficult it would be for Lena to respond intelligently.

Lena's smile had a puzzling tartness to it, but she said nothing. _What is she thinking?_ Helen wondered.

"We decided that you should have some time, between visitors, to . . . think things over; get your questions ready! Aunt Helen..." Helen wondered why she said _Aunt Helen_ sometimes, and just _Helen_ other times. "... I'll be back, I promise. You can't keep me away!" She grinned. "Remember when Mom got mad because I... posed nude for photos?"

Helen turned red. It had never been discussed since that horrible day in her office down in the Collegium, but it was probably a safe topic. It was just a couple of years ago for Helen, but a couple of decades for Lena.

"Yeah," Helen said, nodding.

"Oh, Aunt Helen; don't worry! Everybody has forgiven you everything! Just remember that. We all love you, and we want you well. Okay?" She leaned close, and kissed Helen on the forehead, and held her tight briefly, before she tore herself away. She picked up her pack, and Helen noticed the flowing floral skirt and white shirt she had worn, and the neat braid in which she had put her hair, still lustrous and long, but now just a little lighter than Helen remembered it. Then with a graceful swirl of her skirt and a little wave, she smiled and went out.

## More Visitors!

Helen heard voices outside the room, and presently Diane hurried in, and blasted Helen with a smile, which fled when she saw the signs of tears.

"Why are you crying? Mama? Are you all right?"

Helen nodded quickly, wiping her eyes with the little napkin that lay on her lap.

Diane came close and gave Helen a good long hug, and having kissed her on the cheek, settled into the bedside chair. It was a higher chair than was customary to leave in a hospital room on Earth, more the height of a barstool, because the beds were high, to make it easier for the nurses.

"What have you found out so far?" she asked, in Melanie's very voice, but Helen heard echoes of her own speech, and Lena's speech, which were similar, and more distinct than the slow and somewhat careless Ship speech.

Helen looked at the young woman to whom she had given birth. It was a strange thing, to feel so possessive of her. Her features were almost exactly Melanie, at about the age Helen had first met her, but her hair was short: a little below shoulder length, and she wore it up in what they used to call a banana clip, when Helen was a teenager. She was dressed for work, and like everyone Helen had seen so far, had something like a backpack, which she laid beside her chair. Wanting to smile at her warred with the resentment and puzzlement that Helen was feeling, to find everything so unexpected and illogical.

"Well, it seems that Alison is Captain, now?"

"Yup. And someone you know is Chief: Mrs. Satkunaraja, but she used to be Chawla. Gram calls her Sita Chawla still, it's easier!" Apparently Diane, too, had taken to calling Alison 'Gram'.

They talked about Ship matters briefly, but inevitably Helen had to ask about those who had stayed behind on the Planet, which had been named _Terranova_ , Helen learned from Diane.

"I still can't understand it!" Helen exclaimed, trying not to sound bitter. "Summer, your mother, _Daisy!_ And Athene! _Why?_ _"_

Diane flinched at the strength of Helen's dismay and resentment, though Helen kept her voice down. "Was _I_ the reason for all that?"

"Mama, you have to remember I was just four!" She looked at Helen sorrowfully, her hands gesturing expressively. Helen nodded. "She said that Melanie and the Dropouts needed her more than you and I did. That was what she told me."

Helen was stunned by that revelation just as much as she had been stunned by everything that came before, and Diane had a difficult time persuading Helen that it was something that the four-year-old Athene had actually told her, rather than something she had imagined, or reasoned out for herself. As Helen was going crazy with the sheer illogic of Athene's decision, Alison and Marissa came in, and gave Helen more affectionate greetings than they had soon after Helen had opened her eyes.

"What were you talking about?" Alison's intelligent eyes were taking in the signs of tears on Helen's face, and Diane's unhappy expression, though Marissa looked calm and unperturbed, though not unconcerned. Marissa wore work clothes, like Diane, while Alison was casually dressed, in a polo-necked knitted shirt, and cargo shorts, just as she used to wear when she had been a mere engineer, in charge of the forests. Helen's expression changed as she realized that Alison was now the ultimate authority on the Ship, and it was an honor to have her visit Helen's room a second time.

Alison laughed when she noticed Helen stiffening up, and assured her that nobody was in awe of her anymore.

"I'm still trying to understand why Athene stayed behind," Helen said after a pause. "But that can wait! I have to say, kids, that you all look wonderful, despite everything!" Helen took a deep breath. "You were abandoned by both parents, and I feel responsible."

Marissa took a deep breath, and both Alison and Diane, who had started to speak, fell silent.

"It's long and complicated, Mama." The term _mama_ fell naturally from their lips, and Helen was warmed by it. Marissa looked solemnly at Helen. "I try to imagine _what_ my mother thought your reasons for getting—frozen—were. I think she was furious, because she thought you had chosen Diane and Athene—and maybe even Maya and me—over _her_. And she felt that the Dropouts would be helpless on the surface, without someone who had a scientific background. They would probably not have survived if—Melanie had not decided to join them.

"I _know_ that's why Summer decided to stay, though she didn't give any reasons. Athene told Diane that she wanted to take care of the Dropouts!" Marissa smiled, and Helen saw both humor, and a little pride in that smile; evidently Athene had at least one loyal foster-sister on her side. "If you thought it was the _faucets_ , no; she had gotten over that. She really felt she had a duty to the Dropouts. They wanted to keep _you_ down there, did you know?"

Helen was stunned. Alison nodded gravely, and murmured that that idea had been a non-starter.

"In the end, Chief Cass was all for Athene staying. She seemed to think that since Melanie wanted to stay behind, allowing Athene to stay with her was a good idea." Marissa shook her head, looking disapproving. "I can't imagine what Chief Cass believed Athene could do for those Dropouts, a little girl. I think Cass was getting senile," said Marissa, not sounding angry, but still very critical.

"But, the main thing to remember, Mama, is that it _wasn't_ out of frustration with you _;_ at least, not that alone. I know Melanie was very upset, but the others wanted to stay for other reasons."

They all looked at Helen, and as much as Helen wanted those looks to be accusing, she had to admit that they were not. Her closest friends did not blame her for being torn apart from their loved ones who had chosen to remain on Terranova; Helen herself would have to come to terms with the situation, without explicit proof that she was not the cause of all this.

Helen had a question nagging at her mind, but could not consciously think what it was. Then it finally broke through to the front of her mind.

"Oh! Why was I . . . thawed out? Why wasn't I thawed out sooner? I wanted to . . . Alison, I wanted to be there when the kids needed me; I . . ." It dawned on Helen that the cryostasis plan had not been well-defined. No one had set out the conditions that would trigger her resuscitation, other than that she was being kept in suspended animation until such time as new techniques for handling Type 2 diabetes were discovered.

Alison flapped her hands in excitement. "Oh Helen, we forgot!" The others looked at Alison in puzzlement briefly before they turned to Helen with something of Alison's excitement on their faces as well. "Maddie should have told you, but I think she might have forgotten, too. Just last week, we picked up signals from the Probe! You know about the Probe, right?"

"What probe?"

"Maybe you weren't told, so that you wouldn't get your hopes up! Art and Daisy had put together a powered probe that was sent out to Earth, with a radio transmitter which was set to ask for information about diabetes treatment! I know," said Alison, blushing at Helen's look of disbelief. "But evidently it worked! I don't understand the details, but there's a complicated new technology that it relayed to us. It seems the signals had been received, and they put together an enormous volume of instructions and information and diagrams and . . . actually, it involves artificial intelligence, and things that Art used to dabble in. Sheila and Yvonne are looking into it. So they have something that could result in a treatment! They also gave information about drugs that were a huge improvement over what we had for you. So, even while they're figuring out how the big thing works, there is a medical approach that will be useful!"

"Oh . . . I had forgotten. They gave me some food, and I should be taking those pills . . ."

Marissa picked up a little bowl from the bedside table. "Here, what are these?"

"Oh, yes; she did say I was to take those . . . I have been so distracted . . ."

"You have to take them with food, Mama; you can't start being careless now, after all these years. You never forgot your medication before."

Maddie was at the door shortly, and seeing the bowl with the pills still in it, she frowned at Helen. "Did I forget to tell you to take those? These are better than the pills you used to take, Helen. We just got them made last week."

A little food was found, and Helen swallowed the pills, and soon her mind cleared. Helen had not realized that the excess blood sugar had been blurring her vision, and making it hard to think as well.

"Do I get to talk to Sheila, then?" Helen asked, after the medication had been taken in front of all the witnesses.

"Yes, she's going to join you for supper," said Maddie.

## Sheila

As promised, Sheila turned up after Alison and company had departed.

"You're going to have my special mushroom soup; remember that?"

"Yes, vaguely," said Helen, smiling. No matter how much she tried, it was impossible to be caustic with Sheila Connors. Mad Sheila, as she had been called by someone, had a certain charm that captivated Helen. "It's been twenty years, Sheila!"

"Twenty one," she said. "No, this soup is good, you'll see. So, you've been caught up on everything, eh?"

Helen nodded, her face bleak. Then her expression softened. Athene was not here, and neither were Melanie and Daisy, and Cass. But those who remained looked frankly wonderful: Alison, Diane, Marissa, Sheila herself, and mostly Lena. Helen's mind still could barely take it in, that these women were in such good shape after so long. There certainly was something to be said for living in low gravity.

"I can hardly wait," Helen said. "I was told about this miracle cure that was beamed in from Earth. I can't understand why they waited this long!"

"Oh, it's simple," Sheila said. "They don't have the capability of beaming enough energy in our direction. There's an inverse-square law, you see. Double the distance, and the energy in the signal is one-fourth. The signal goes out in a cone, out through the base of the cone, and the signal per unit area is diluted by the area of the base. But Art sent out a probe; actually he sent out two of them. The first one went much farther, and the information was relayed from one to the other, and because the probes only got about halfway to Earth, they were able to ferry the signal back to us."

Helen had to think about that, but she began to see how a ferried signal could get across, whereas a direct beam from Earth would be too weak.

"Seems a good reason for leaving little relay devices behind, wherever we go," Helen said finally. Sheila's eyes widened, and she nodded slowly. They should have thought of that. "What is this technology like?"

"Let me finish this bowl, and I'll tell you." Sheila fastidiously took several sips of her soup, and set her spoon aside.

"They've been talking about this a long time, but I had never taken it seriously. They create some very tiny mechanical devices that can actually perform surgery on DNA molecules, and they make the devices self-replicating. They used to be made out of steel and plastics, but now they're made out of organic tissues, which are absorbed by the body as soon as they go inactive. So that's it. They're a sort of artificial microorganism that is injected into your bloodstream."

Helen shuddered. "That's like being deliberately infected with a bacteria that is going to operate on my DNA!" Sheila stopped eating her soup, thinking about that. "I don't like the sound of it at all!"

"Well . . . I have to admit, it _is_ like that . . . especially since it's self-replication . . ."

"What if it continues to reproduce indefinitely?"

Sheila was thoughtful for a while. "I don't know all the answers, Helen. I'm still trying to understand the information. Then we have to begin work on the materials." She sighed. "Art would have been the one to lead the project; he was a robotics person. None of us kept at it after he died." She shook her head. "So many deaths! Almost everyone I know is gone!" She looked deeply unhappy, as her eyes crossed Helen's. "It's not that I had lots of friends, Helen. It's just that . . . once Alison McClintock is no more, there's almost no point in living!"

"Are you in love with her?"

Sheila was immobile, looking at Helen with an expression Helen could not interpret.

"No, Helen, I'm not . . . in love with her. She's just the last of my generation." She looked down at her lunch. "I never thought it would be so . . . painful . . . to be the sole survivor of my entire cohort . . . I suppose you've already come to terms with that, but in your case," she closed her eyes briefly, "the issues are different. I think you connected beautifully with . . . the people you found yourself among." Her voice had grown soft. Helen remembered how much praise Sheila had heaped on her in the first hours after they had met. "Not everyone has that gift, for connection, you know." She looked at Helen sternly. " _I_ connected with you so well . . . You have no idea just how much I had held myself apart."

Helen was struck dumb. She had taken Sheila and her idiosyncrasies in her stride; Sheila had not been very different from some characters Helen had known in graduate school. But Helen had to keep from blushing at the intimate tone Sheila was using.

"Is there no one left? Among the Dropouts, perhaps?" Sheila only shook her head.

Helen sighed. Sheila was one of the oldest in her generation, the very first born on board _The Galactic Voyager_ , and probably even older than Alison.

There were questions Helen had wanted to ask her, but Helen herself was so overwhelmed with everything that she could only lie back and let her visitors tell her anything they thought important. Helen had to piece things together over a week or two.

# Year 100: Project Helen

## The Apartment

It took about a week until Helen was deemed ready to be settled in an apartment. Alison and Lena lived together, Helen found out, though Ben and his family lived close by. Helen was not ready to share quarters; over the months before she had been frozen the second time, she had learned by experience about the drawbacks of doing that.

Marissa and Maya had visited several times, while Helen was still in the recovery room, and she had learned that they all had significant others, as the saying went, though none of them had children. Maya was not talkative now, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, but she was warm towards Helen, and was quick to get her any concrete information Helen asked for.

Diane was still single, though she revealed to Helen that 'There is someone, okay? We can talk about it later!'

"Girl or boy?" Helen had asked with a smile.

Diane had blushed and said, it was a boy, of course. Helen felt sorry that she had connected with so few young boys while she was teaching. She looked up at Helen, somewhat amused.

"What did you expect?"

It was Helen's turn to blush. She shrugged. "I was wondering whether . . . our example had been too influential," she said.

"We were too small, Mama," she said softly. Of the three young people who had descended from Melanie, Diane was the most affectionate, and Helen took pride in the fact that she, Helen, had been a significant influence, even if for a mere three years, on this graceful and confident young woman. "I was thinking about you, when we were waiting for you to be revived, and, of course we could come round and look at you in the capsule. And we had pictures, too." Helen nodded. "I was surprised at how much I remembered of you! I could remember your voice, your smile . . . everything!"

Helen felt herself becoming emotional, and her face trembling, on the verge of tears, but it passed. Helen had reminded herself many times that Diane was truly her child; of her body, even. Between visits, Helen pondered on that fact, but when Diane was in the room, all doubts vanished, and only the fact that they had spent two decades away from each other made their conversations fall short in the slightest from being completely natural. Diane regaled Helen with stories about Aunt Alison, and Aunt Cass, before she had passed on. Cass had loved The Twins, and her endorsement of the plan to allow Athene to stay on the planet—Helen had to make an effort to remember its name—had not been an easy thing to do; Cass had decided that the two infants were important to the well-being of the Ship's community, and allowing Athene to leave the ship had been very hard, because Melanie and Daisy, in Cass's view, had been important, too.

Diane explained that Cass was heartbroken about having to leave Melanie behind. But Melanie had been deeply resentful towards Cass Holt, because of all the decisions the latter had made that impacted Melanie negatively. Diane did not believe that there was any vindictiveness about Daisy's decision to stay, but there just might have been some payback in Melanie's decision.

"But, you know what? Cass was worried about the settlers until the end, Mama. If their little settlement failed, Cass thought it would have been as if she had condemned them to die." This impressed Helen.

"Did she talk to you about it?"

Diane nodded. "I was sort of a secretary for her after she had a stroke," she said, and she was clearly fond of Cass Holt.

## Challenges

Very soon after Helen had settled into her apartment—a far smaller set of rooms than previously—she had an invitation to meet with Sheila, Maddie, and a young biophysicist up in Sheila's lab, a small place in which Sheila had the tools she used in her work. Helen had never been there; she had always been the object of inquiry, rather than a collaborator.

"Well, here are the materials we got from the probe," Sheila said, as soon as Helen had gotten seated. "This is after we went over it, and made some edits based on changes in language and terminology." Helen nodded. She had wanted to see this for so long.

There were some twenty-five pages of overview, and some ninety pages of additional material and appendices. Their package had been split into nominal pages, to help referencing. Helen was fascinated to see obvious differences in terminology, and even in ordinary words. They said the original material was available, in its unedited form, if it became necessary to look at it.

"The problem is not with manufacturing the little bugs, as we call them. We've made small robots of about forty times that size for some years. But the way we program them is completely different!"

"In what way?"

"What way?" They looked at each other. "Do you know anything about computer engineering?"

"Oh, no," said Helen, quickly. "I just did a little programming in college—Pascal, C, that kind of thing."

"We're not talking about spreadsheets, and using software; did you learn to actually _program?_ _"_

"Er, yes? Just a little, as I said." Helen would have kept silent, except for the fact that this entire project could depend on some trivial insight she might let drop accidentally. What she had done most recently was the coding of the software that automated recovery of MIDI files directly from photographs of music manuscripts. Though she could not imagine that programming a DNA-altering bug could depend on image-processing, she swallowed her embarrassment and listened patiently.

"See . . ." said the man, who was completely unfamiliar to Helen, picking up a folder from a table nearby, and showing Helen some sheets of code printed on the horrible plastic sheets that passed for paper on the Ship, "this is the language we use on the Ship; it's called NewH. It's actually NewH 7, but anyway, it's the only dialect used by everything on the Ship."

Helen looked at the code, and her eyes grew wide. It looked very much like a sort of super-Algol, where all the code looked very much like natural-language sentences. Of course, she knew, it could be reduced to something very much like machine language with a compiler. She looked at her companions, and nodded. "It's completely unfamiliar, but it's familiar at the same time," she said, trying not to sound too knowledgeable.

"And this is the sort of code they want us to use," said Sheila, holding out a sheet to Helen.

It took Helen several long minutes until she recognized that it was an Assembly-type language for an enormous chip, with an enormous memory capacity, and an enormous instruction-set. She told them so, and watched their eyes grow wide.

"Good Lord," said Sheila, "I had no idea you could see that so quickly. I had no idea you knew much outside, you know, your area! Helen, I'm very impressed! Yes, the chip is about 10,000 times the capacity of chips we make usually, but that's all. But the programming looks as if it will take several months to learn!"

Because of the fact that there was essentially only a single, very high-level programming language on board the Ship, the programmers had lost the art of inter-language interpolation. Apparently Art Greenberg had been the only one who had dabbled in that kind of thing, but he could never have imagined the problems that would have to be solved to implement the treatment for Helen which had been requested.

In breaks between analyzing the programming problem, Helen asked for more information about how the messages had been received, and she was told about the probe, about which she had been kept in the dark, and about the second probe, and as much as they knew about what had gone into its design and construction. Helen was in awe.

"You probably have no idea," Sheila said, when the others had left on some errand, "how much Cass Holt loved you, Helen." She was not looking at Helen, and Helen's heightened senses told her that Sheila was controlling herself with difficulty. What was causing that? "Not a week went by, but Cass would visit you in the Sleeper Hall. She wanted you awake." Finally she looked at Helen. "She wasn't the only one!"

Helen looked back at her, feeling hopeless. In the decade and a half in which she had been a major celebrity on Earth, she had had no trouble with the egocentricity that it entailed. But Cass Holt's unreasonable faith in Helen's ability to make things better for The Ship made Helen feel utterly impotent. And here Sheila was looking at her with those same desperate eyes, and Helen knew that Sheila was a far more brilliant woman than Helen could dream of being.

"I'm only of use for . . . Diane, and Marissa, and Maya, and . . ." Helen shook her head. "It isn't right that you, of all people, should leave everything else aside, just to . . . find a treatment to prolong the life of _one person!_ Sheila, the _Voyager_ doesn't exist for me only! And to think that I had something to do with . . . all those people leaving the Ship, and settling on that damn planet! How you must all . . . well, I know you don't actually _hate_ me, but . . . at times you must think of me with so much resentment!"

Sheila only bent over and held her head. Helen looked at her, utterly frustrated, but decided to be quiet. She wanted to mourn her loss of Athene, and to curb her desire to go look at Lena again, to rejoice in being awake, and to work on this interesting new problem Sheila had laid on her, and to take Sheila in her arms and make everything all right, but hard-earned wisdom made its presence felt, and she held herself back, her mind feverishly trying to think of what to do first.

Just as Helen was about to short out in frustration, the others reappeared, and when Sheila looked up again, she appeared calm and collected. They were joined by other robotics experts, who wanted to know more about cross-compilers. Helen gratefully turned to that problem. She was hesitant to bring up concepts about which she knew only the broad outlines. She asked them if they knew about virtual machines, and found that the terminology had changed so much that they could not recognize the concept. They thought that they knew what she was trying to explain, but then it turned out that they were thinking about something related, but different.

"But when you're developing some automaton, don't you build a virtual replica of it inside, I don't know, your computer system somewhere?"

"An actual functioning replica?"

"Well, virtually, yes?"

"What do you mean by _virtually?_ "

Helen was baffled, and the programmers were annoyed. They could tell that this was a useful concept, and they were frustrated that it was an outsider who was trying to show them up. But they could _see_ that she was not interested in one-upmanship.

"Why don't we sleep on it, and get together tomorrow, after we've had time to . . . try and relate these things to what we might have forgotten?" said Sheila, quickly seconded by Maddie.

"Come on, over to our place," Sheila said, smiling. Her smile had improved over twenty years, Helen thought. Now it was positively brilliant, almost flirtatious. Maddie also smiled, eager to have Helen in their home, and suddenly Helen wondered where Jennifer was.

## Dinner with the Connors

Jennifer was conspicuous by her absence, but Maddie more than made up for her. And Helen saw Vonnie, aged another twenty years. Vonnie was almost painfully attractive, her face strangely altered. She gazed at Helen for a few seconds before she smiled and welcomed Helen with a soft embrace, and Helen's heart sank. She remembered that look only too well.

In her early concertizing days on Earth, as soon as it had been discovered that Helen was bisexual, she had been fawned upon everywhere by women who thought they were in love with her, and who thought they were the perfect mate for her. They had written to her, each one explaining at length why she was the perfect choice. _Just meet me one time,_ they had begged, _and you will know that I am the one!_ They had detailed plans for how they would have a family with Helen. It was too late for Helen to be secretive about her preferences and her attitudes about family and children; it was all known, because Helen had never thought to hold back her views on anything.

But Vonnie was restrained, and quickly realized that Helen was perceiving too much in Vonnie's face and expression, and she gradually became the gracious host. Occasionally Helen caught her studying her surreptitiously, but intently, but she got better at hiding it as the evening went along.

The younger clone, Maddie, who it turned out was a clone of Vonnie herself, was a far more socially mature girl than her "mother". Vonnie, though now biologically equivalent to a forty-year-old woman, was in some ways older, but in other ways younger.

They had invited a guest, about whom they refused to divulge anything to Helen. When the guest arrived, it turned out to be, of all the people Helen would have loved to be reunited with, Megan Barrows, and her husband Andy!

Megan was pretty much as Helen remembered her, except that she had cut her hair short, and wore a dress, and had actually slimmed down a little. Her smile threatened to split her face entirely in two, as she gave Helen the hugest bear hug of all, and feasted her eyes on Helen.

"Oh, you're such a sight for sore eyes!" she said, as Andy grinned in the background. "How's the diabetes?"

Helen sighed, feeling picked on. "All right, for the moment, I guess," she said, wondering whether Megan knew what was going on. "Did you hear about the probe, and everything?"

"Yes, I was told," she said, sobering up. "But they said there was some conventional medicine that was an improvement on those enormous pills you used to take."

Helen nodded. "I do feel a lot more energetic," she confessed, thinking about it.

"Met the girls?"

"Yeah!" They laughed together. "Not a lot has changed, with the ones who're on the ship," Helen said, and then lost her smile, thinking of the one who was not on the ship, and that one's adopted mother.

"I know," Megan said, softly, reaching out an enormous hand to comfort Helen.

Dinner was a jolly meal, and Andy turned out to be a quietly entertaining fellow. Tall and rangy, he had a dry sense of humor, and smiling eyes that were quick to respond to humor in anyone. Over the years, Vonnie had acquired something of a sense of humor, and young Maddie had her 'grandmother's' sense of humor, which Helen appreciated. The Connors women had always found Helen a delightful guest, and it was so once again, and they drew Megan and Andy into their shared appreciation of Helen. For Helen, these were some of her favorite people. It was late when Helen, Megan and Andy walked back to the little close where Helen had her new apartment.

## Settling In

The following day, Helen went into the meeting with the programming team, prepared to explain what a virtual machine was. In order to do that, she had to learn the rudiments of NewH, the common programming system on _Voyager_.

She picked up enough to write a few demonstrations for them in an hour or so; the language was flexible, and very extensible, and the developing environment so helpful that Helen could easily see how the programming student was easily isolated from the hardware, to the point where everything to do with hardware had to be done through software. _There are virtual machines everywhere, but they don't know that they're using them,_ she thought to herself.

In a break between her lessons, one of the boys showed her some old tutorials he had found in the archives, and there, on the screen, was an instance of a virtual machine that had been developed for the _Helen II_ probe.

"This is what you meant?"

Helen nodded. They stared at the screen, as Helen tried to find out how the object was activated.

But the young people on the team, of which Vonnie was one member, quickly grabbed the idea simply from having seen the single instance in the archives. "It's like a flight simulator!" said one of them, and Helen had to agree. Now they had to build a virtual machine that would implement the chip that used the instruction set they wanted to use.

They were very intelligent; that much Helen had to concede. And they were willing to try any number of 'brute force' approaches to solve the problem, because they might wait forever to find a conceptual breakthrough. So they sat down, and divided up the work to essentially create a compiler that would generate output in the nameless assembly language, for a large subset of their own NewH.

Alison finally found time to visit Helen, and after they had spoken for a while about general matters, and Helen had learned from Alison about more minor changes that had taken place, but which still significantly affected the environment of the Ship, they began to talk about Cass, and eventually about all the people Helen cared about, including Sita Chawla and her family, with whom Helen had spent an evening in the days before the Planet had been discovered. Anu was now a mother of two young teenagers; Sunil was living with a Finnish girl, which Alison had been very surprised about. Sissy, Helen learned, had also stayed on Terranova with the Dropouts.

"Did they communicate at all, after the Ship left?"

"Oh, sure. You know, we have archives of those messages. In fact, every six months they send us a news bulletin of about an hour's duration . . ."

Helen could hardly contain herself. Alison and Helen headed out into the Hub, and went to the library, which had better media facilities, and Alison found the earliest broadcast that had been beamed to the Ship, when it had just cleared the orbit of the tiny outer planet, and there was a shot of the entire planetary population seated on bleachers, waving at the camera. Helen squinted at the screen, trying to identify particular faces, but then suddenly the camera went into panoramic mode, and panned from left to right over the gathered people, and suddenly Alison froze the picture, and there was Melanie, looking as elegant as ever in the center of the group, with Daisy close by, and there was Athene, smiling sweetly at the camera, and Helen's heart stopped.

"But . . . she looks, like, fifteen!"

"It was nine years ago, so . . . yes, she would be about, well, not fifteen, but twelve, maybe?"

" _Nine_ years ago? Not twenty?"

"No, we had to stay and make sure the Dropouts could look after themselves, Helen."

"So we're not that far away!"

"Not in galactic terms. Accelerating at a quarter _g_ for nine years, it's about . . ." Allie got out a little gadget, obviously a hand calculator, and did some arithmetic. "About sixty trillion miles," she said. "Just about at the edge of the system."

"I never asked, but about how far are we from Earth?" Helen wanted to know. She was amazed that she had never thought to actually ask this question before.

Alison knew this one right away. "Well, we're fairly sure that we're about 200 parsecs from Earth. We kept going for a couple of years after you were resuscitated the first time, right?" Helen nodded. "At that time we had triangulated, based on the best information we had before the Ship had set out, that we were about 250 parsecs from the Sun. But... you know about subjective time, and so forth?" Helen nodded, but she was thinking that there were probably some concepts that she had understood wrong. "Because of time dilation, though according to our on-board clocks you were revived 75 years after the _Voyager_ set out, we may have been traveling for a longer time relative to Earth. Because of how long we took to slow down, we believe we were going roughly at a tenth of the speed of light." Helen could hardly grasp the implications of what she was hearing.

"I can hardly take it in," Helen said, in an awed voice. "I thought horrible things happen when you travel too fast!"

Alison shook her head. "Nothing happens, unless there's a collision. We were lucky, because we didn't encounter _any_ large space debris going in the opposite direction. But the shields were badly worn when we inspected them while in orbit." Alison sighed, and smiled. Helen decided it was better to talk about more ordinary things.

"Lena has become a lovely woman," Helen said, getting a central thought off her chest. But she had come to realize that standards of physical beauty on board the ship were well above the Earth average. In addition, the lower gravity, and the healthier diet enabled everyone to be physically healthy. People like Cass Holt, whose lifestyles had been extremely sedentary, were the exception. Even Sheila Connors, whom Helen expected to have a studious lifestyle, concerned with study and scientific inquiry, was in the pink of health.

"I'm glad to see how Lena has turned out," Alison said, having got herself a drink from the pantry. "She is all that I wanted to be: warm and caring, engaged with everything around her, full of art, and music, and . . . an instinct to teach, and nurture young folks, interested . . ."

"You're a lot of those things," Helen said, with no intent to flatter.

Alison blushed. "That's _your_ talent," she said. "To see only the good in people, and none of the bad, none of the failings!" She shook her head. "We missed you greatly while you were gone."

Helen was getting embarrassed. She hurriedly thought of a safe subject. "I met Megan Barrows last night!" Alison smiled to see the pleasure in Helen's eyes. "I was so happy to see her! Oh Alison, what a wonderful thing you did, to put us together! Those few weeks were some of the happiest in my life!"

"Cass knew we would be fine as soon as she saw you, and spoke with you! With you, Helen, this Ship has amazing potential. Without you, even survival is unlikely."

## The Ship Tour

Helen had not forgotten that there were several hours' worth of broadcasts from the Planet that she could watch. She applied to see them, and presently she was seated with Alison, Marissa, Maddie and Lena, watching the video, listening to the audio on headphones.

The only glimpses Helen got of Melanie or Daisy was of them farming. Even the rudimentary farms the Dropouts had put together were far more efficient than those put together by the Navy servicemen and women. They showed off bigger bubbles in which they planned to do the farming, and a bigger variety of crops. Some bulletins were actually narrated by Summer, and in the later years, by Athene.

Physically, Helen could see that as Athene grew older, she did look a lot more like the youthful Helen; she had the same enormous arms and legs, and the same head and neck, and Helen was surprised to see her smile, which was very like Helen's own. But it was seen rarely; when Athene was interviewed by someone, it was usually Summer, Athene spoke articulately, with animation, and with great persuasiveness, but very seriously. Helen was filled to bursting with pride in herself, and in her daughter. It was strangely unsatisfying that Athene was created out of Helen's DNA alone. It felt utterly lonely. But science was not so far along that if Helen chose to mate with a woman, as indeed she had, that they could create a child with the genes of both women.

Still, Athene was undeniably Helen's child, and though it was a comfort to live with Diane, and to listen to her observations about everything she did and thought throughout her day, the desire to see and talk to Athene was a compulsion. Helen wanted to discuss with Diane her ache to contact Athene, but she was mindful that Diane might be hurt if Helen acted as though Athene was more important to her than Diane was.

Before Helen could go mad without having her wish to see and talk to Athene fulfilled, and before the tantalizing glimpses of Athene she got drove her to distraction, Alison began to make sure Helen was occupied with performance and education, the kinds of things that Helen could busy herself with without obsessing over her circumstances.

It was odd to have Megan travel about with her once again, but now they were more equals, and Megan was far more relaxed about the situation. Megan was one of the most relaxed people Helen had ever known, but that didn't mean that Megan was oblivious to what was going on. In some ways, Megan was more aware of subtleties in what they were seeing now, whereas twenty years ago Megan had taken many things for granted.

The segments were a little more crowded now. Megan was a little less tolerant of being jostled, and occasionally directed a frown towards an unruly young man, whereas before she would have merely sighed and exchanged an exasperated glance with Helen.

"People are visiting other segments a lot more," she murmured to Helen. "Traveling got popular while we were in orbit around the planet."

"Oh yes; I guess Ocean is back to normal now?"

"Yes; that happened soon after you were frozen. Does it bother you to hear that word?"

"Not at all; it's more convenient. That's what Lena always called it."

Megan smiled. "What an interesting young woman that is!"

"I don't know about young woman," Helen said. "She's about thirty five, thirty six . . . something like that; she's of marrying age, Megan."

"But there's something very youthful about her," was Megan's opinion, and Helen had to agree.

"What do you think of Diane?" Helen asked, interested to know Megan's take on that young lady, who was the closest thing to her own child that there was on the ship.

Megan glanced at her briefly, and Helen indicated that she need not be cautious.

"There's something very serious, and innocent about her," Megan said softly. "Melanie was the same way. It's hard to explain."

"I think I know what you mean," said Helen. "It's as if they believe what you say without question."

"Exactly! In the case of Melanie, after the mission was over, she became a little cynical, but not as much as I would have expected."

They talked about all their friends, and despite Megan's assessment of Diane's innocence, Helen observed, with a little amusement, that Megan was very much the same way. Even if she doubted whether she was being told the truth by people, she never ascribed an unworthy motive for any falsehoods she might have suspected. Megan always had that wonderful effect on Helen, of reinforcing her belief in the goodness of people.

The first concert Helen gave was accompanied by a new young pianist who was gaining a reputation as an accompanist. When Helen and he began rehearsing together, he was bowled over by Helen's voice and technique, and he was so enthralled by Helen that it was mildly embarrassing. Luckily he had a sense of humor, and Helen was able to kid him out of his worshipful attitude towards her. There were three concerts, two informal ones in Tropical and Ocean, attended by families with children, and then a large one in the oval auditorium in Temperate, where Helen had first overwhelmed her audience with a legendary performance. Some of those attending this latest performance had been mere children at that first one. There was a small string orchestra for some of the numbers, and at the end, Helen sang a few folk songs accompanying herself with a new guitar with which she had been gifted. Her fingers had a difficult time getting used to playing the guitar again; all her callouses had worn off in the years of disuse.

The Collegium had continued to function with a core of interested students and professionals, but it welcomed Helen back with great enthusiasm, and the leaders of the organization deplored to Helen the lack of interest of the general public in its activities. "People don't care about music anymore!" they mourned to Helen, and she laughed at them, incurring their indignation. "Musicians have said that for centuries," she explained; "you just get accustomed to it! There's always going to be a steady stream of children who love it, and they draw their families and their friends in, and life goes on!"

# Year 101: Obstacles

## Microbots

With great effort, the team working on the microscopic robots put together a virtual robot with the capabilities that the method required. At this point, Sheila could participate in the programming. It had taken some time to reverse the direction in which they had proceeded to build the cross-compiler; what was needed was not a means of converting NewH into the Assembly Code the Earth capsule had specified, but rather to implement that Assembly Code in NewH. Helen could help here, and could have helped more if she had become more fluent in NewH, but the members of the team thought it only polite not to involve Helen in what they perceived as menial tasks.

"Sooner or later, they will actually have to build the physical devices, small enough to be able to function in your bloodstream," Sheila said.

Helen nodded, not believing that it would be an insurmountable obstacle.

Once they started manufacturing a set of microbots in earnest, things began to get difficult. The young fellows in charge had not expected the solutions to elude them for so long. The oldest members of the robotics team admitted defeat, and mourned the fact that their star members had inexplicably elected to stay on the Planet.

Meanwhile, Helen was watching the archival video data from the Planet a few hours each day. She often wanted to watch the most recent packet, but she made herself watch the news in chronological order, wallowing in the pleasure of seeing Melanie's little triumphs, and the occasional glimpses of Daisy, and best of all, the frequent glimpses of Athene, who was gradually gaining importance as a leader of the community.

There was usually someone watching the video with her, to explain what was going on: Diane, most often; sometimes young Maddie, or Lena. It was enthralling viewing for Helen, and though much of this had been seen by the youngsters already, they saw new and interesting things as they watched with Helen.

"This is the one where the old dome collapsed," Yvonne told Helen.

"What dome?"

"You know, the bubble?"

"Oh... yes? It collapsed? How could that be?"

Yvonne shrugged. "It was made of plastic, you know. Plastic things don't last that long."

"But..."

Helen learned, when she asked Alison, the authority on all things scientific, that the Phoebus radiation degraded the bubble material over time. The collapse had taken place suddenly, and though no lives had been lost, Helen was on pins, wondering whether anyone she knew had been affected. Alison revealed that Daisy had been the only one Helen knew who had been in the old dome at the time, and had suffered brief hypoxia, but sustained no permanent injury.

Once the Ship was too far away for high-quality sound and video, they had put in a half-hour of high-resolution video, and an hour of low-resolution video, which frustrated Helen greatly, because often it was the low-res portion that contained video of Athene.

Then one day Helen learned that the Microbot team was having trouble. There was nothing Helen could help with; it involved micro-manufacturing techniques that had not been perfected on the Ship, but which the message from Earth presumed were well understood. "We can make some pretty tiny things," they said, "but this requires a whole new approach!"

## Greetings

Helen was astounded when she was woken up one morning by Diane, saying that there was a message from Athene.

"A message?" Helen asked, stunned. "We're still in communication with them?"

"Sure! We still get a data packet every two months, Mama, didn't you know?"

"But . . ."

"Come on up to the Hub; let's look at it on the big monitor!"

"It's a _video?_ _"_

"Yes! What did you expect?"

"I thought it was a _text_ message!"

Soon they were at a viewing booth in the library, with one of the highest-resolution monitors in front of them. After all, this was a big moment! Helen was barely able to contain her excitement.

"Hi, Mama! By the time you get this, it will be probably more than a week!" Athene looked happy, but a little anxious. "There's so much to tell you, I don't even know where to start! Melanie is waiting to talk, but she got held up getting here. We've put up lots more bubbles, which we call domes, and we're doing all sorts of amazing things with the agriculture. We wish you all could be here, but what can we do? We have to eat all the food ourselves!" She giggled, and Helen laughed through her tears. "We got to see a short clip of you coming out of stasis, and then a clip of your first concert. Oh Mama, you sound so good!" Suddenly, Athene's smile disappeared, as she remembered that Helen was out of reach.

Helen watched with mixed emotions. It was uncanny to see the youthful Athene, a woman of about twenty five, though her manner was that of someone barely out of her teens. Helen recalled that she, too, had been that way.

"Could you send me a short message? I would so love to hear you talk!" There was a pause, as Athene thought of something meaningful to say. "Melanie had a copy of a video that you sent her when Diane and I were born. Hi Diane!" The smile she gave the camera to convey to Diane was warm and loving, and full of missing her. Helen heard Diane murmur back, _Hi sweetie!_ Her voice was rough with emotion. Athene continued, "I'm doing good work, but my friends here are quite able to look after their own needs. I helped with the new domes, and I help with the communications equipment, but most of my time is spent with teaching music to little kids. Yes, Mama, I'm a music teacher too! Are you proud of me?"

Helen simply could not bear it any longer. She began to sob, and Diane reached out to pause the playback. "I would be proud of her even if she did nothing!" Helen said, looking at Diane through her tears, and reaching out a hand to touch Diane with love, lest she misunderstood that perhaps Helen felt more love for Athene than she did for Diane, the older twin.

"Of _course_ you would! I'm not a child, Mama; I understand . . . these kinds of things. Oh!" She made a gesture of frustration. "There's so little time!"

Helen wiped her tears, and stared at Diane in incomprehension. "So little time? What do you mean?"

"To . . . to . . . Mama, we're like strangers, trying to learn about each other! I'm twenty-two years old! You hardly know me! And . . . I hardly know _you!"_ She laughed at Helen's confusion. "Every time we talk, I learn something different about the person who you are; the _adult_ who you are, not the _mother_ who you are! You know?" Helen nodded, dazed. "I already love you, because you're _Mama!_ But now, I'm learning to love you as a _friend!_ It's very different!"

Helen gave her a twisted smile. "Now don't get all philosophical on me, please!"

Diane covered her face and laughed for a long minute.

Helen went back to finish watching the message from the planet, and it was a half hour of having her heart wrenched in a number of different ways, but mostly, it was so wonderful to see the adult Athene that Helen could hardly speak. And that was just Athene's message. Next came Melanie.

The eyes that looked out at Helen were gravely serious. Melanie had aged over the twenty years, and Helen was aghast to see the face of a woman who looked at least fifty years old. Helen had seen glimpses of Melanie in the news segments, but they were from earlier in time; this broadcast was just a few hours, or maybe days old. Melanie was just graying at the temples, but her eyes were compelling, and her voice made Helen's heart lurch.

"Helen! Here's a voice from your past!" After those words, Melanie was silent, and Helen could see her lips trembling with the echo of the emotion Helen herself was feeling. "I was so wrong! I was angry . . . furious! And I was angry at the kids, too . . . and I . . . There are things I shouldn't say out loud, or put in a message like this . . . I have apologized to the girls so many times . . . It has become meaningless. I had forgotten what it felt like to . . . be with you!

"Helen . . . Daisy is good . . . company, as you can expect." She looked away to the side, and Helen wondered whether there were witnesses to this communication. "No, there's no one here, listening in," she said, as if she could hear Helen's thoughts. "Sometimes—you must have felt this yourself—you're surrounded by so much love and . . . just goodwill, you know? You wonder whether you deserve to be treated so well! You remember Chisako? Look her up, and give her an enormous hug for me, will you? Remind her about what an angel she was to me! I hardly spoke to her after we got back on the Ship! I'm the most undeserving woman that ever lived, Helen! It's not that I hate myself, you understand? It's just that I feel . . . unworthy. That's a hell of a way to talk to someone who's just got out of hibernation, but these are the thoughts I carry around with me: that I'm not there to have seen you recovered, and safely out of the freeze, and settled in . . . the kinds of things that I had vowed to do for you! I never vowed them to you, but I vowed them to myself, in my heart!"

That was about as much as Melanie could get out. She broke into tears, and the screen went blank, as she shut off the recorder.

Daisy came on next. She had hardly aged at all, except for a few wrinkles around the eyes, which Helen was glad to see: it suggested that the intervening years had been happy for her. She looked very much like Lena looked now; they shared the same beauty. But their intelligences were very different; they both had eyes that seemed to see much, but Helen thought that Daisy saw different things than her daughter did.

"I'm really looking forward to hearing how the treatment will go," she said. "Of all things, I never expected a mechanical approach to the problem, which is really what it is! It's robotic surgery, at the molecular level, as I understand it, but of course Summer and Yvonne will know much more about it.

"Helen, you look wonderful! I don't know whether putting you in cryostasis had some sort of restorative effect, or maybe it's the new drugs. But you look wonderful! Please, please send a message back! The others might not tell you, but _I_ , for one, would _love_ to hear what you have to say! Send messages separately to each one, Helen; there are private things you should say to each person. Not to me; that would not be . . . necessary, or even appropriate. But Melanie would love to hear something private from you, and Athene needs to hear from you. All these tensions need to be resolved. Okay? Until we meet again!"

Finally, it was Summer.

Summer spoke with a grin. Helen had to smile; Summer just could not take anything too seriously. She had filled out beautifully, her hair was cut short, like a boy, and she was full of facts and information. Her voice was dry and low, not as musical as it had been at one time. Actually, Helen recalled, her voice was never _musical_ except when she sang, and then it was like that of an angel.

"Guess what! We have horses! We just got started thawing out some fetuses, and now we've got to get some open spaces in which they can run! I wish you were here, Helen; we could figure something out so easily! It's hard to talk to people about that sort of thing. Small things are no problem; micro-robotics is nicely understood, planetside. But large-scale engineering is done at a very low level. At least we have them using spheres. But it's either spheres, or boxes. It's hopeless! And we have a couple of dogs, now. After Laika and Yuri, there were no dogs for a long time."

## Alison Gets A Strange Request

Alison had just come home after a long day of troubleshooting with the Life Support department, which seemed bent on destroying everything on the Ship, and she had just finished her simple supper, when Lena bearded her in her bedroom.

"Grandma?"

"Yes, Sweetheart. How have you been doing?"

"I'm good."

"What's Helen been up to?"

"She's been going through the messages from planetside."

"Oh." They looked at each other, exchanging a meaningful look.

"Diane is with her; she'll tell us how it went . . ."

Alison shrugged. She would have loved to know, but Helen deserved a little privacy. She suppressed a sigh; Helen was an object of fascination for so many on the Ship, it made no sense for Alison to obsess over her on top of all that.

"Is it all right if I . . ."

Alison waited, but nothing else seemed forthcoming. Lena looked acutely embarrassed, but could not continue.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Is it okay if I . . . have sex with Aunt Helen?"

Alison was shocked. It was a shocking idea to begin with, and still more shocking that Lena would want to obtain permission, first. Alison would have much preferred any sex that Lena or Helen had with anybody to have proceeded without her knowledge. But that these two would have sex _at all_ . . . Alison felt her face heating up.

"Why would you ask me, girl? What . . . how . . ." She gestured impatiently. "I don't know what to say! Lena, you're certainly old enough to make your own decisions! Just be considerate. Be considerate. That's most of what there is to be aware of in that sort of thing. Be considerate!"

"I will," said Lena, almost inaudibly, as she hurried away. Alison stared after her, stunned.

## Voyeur

When Lena arrived at Helen's apartment, she heard noises from within, and something made her sneak in through the open door, and she immediately regretted her decision. But once she began her silent intrusion, she was compelled to continue. The entire apartment was dark, except for the den at the back, where they always gathered in the evenings and on weekends. In the dim light, she could barely see Helen, stark naked, lying on the sofa, with her clothes draped over one end, and what appeared to be a naked boy straddling her, who was in the process of penetrating her. More than that Lena could not see from where she watched, fascinated. She could not even hear the quiet conversation, but she could tell that it was tense. She heard Helen gasp. Then she saw the young man lean towards Helen, and suddenly it was clear that it was no man, but a girl. Helen was sucking her breast.

## Maddie

A few minutes before Lena had arrived, Helen had been sharing supper with Maddie, when Maddie suddenly asked her whether she was expecting anyone else that evening.

"Er, no; why?"

Maddie had been helping Helen put away the dishes, and now she slowly went to her little pack. Helen studied her with interest; there was something strange about her that evening. For one thing, she had dressed very provocatively, in a coral-pink short dress that showed a lot of leg. She had sexy, muscular legs, and she was quite different in build from her mother and grandmother. She picked up something from her pack, and came towards Helen. Wordlessly, she showed Helen what she had in her hand. It was a strapless dildo.

"What are you doing with that?" Helen demanded, completely startled by the unexpected object.

"Would you like to try it out with me?" Maddie asked, her voice perfectly even. But Helen could see the sheen of perspiration on her skin, and knew that it was just as awkward for the youngster as it was for Helen.

"Maddie... this is wrong... at a number of different levels!"

"Why?" It was just a request for information; there was no challenge in the question at all.

"Firstly . . . I have a partner. Secondly . . ."

The big problem in Helen's mind was that the unresolved feelings between Helen and Vonnie, Sheila's younger child, were such that any intimacy between Helen and young Maddie _felt_ incestuous, though the complications were purely psychological, and nothing more. Even the fact that Helen was, for all intents and purposes, married to Melanie Arnaud, was irrelevant, since Melanie had chosen to separate herself from Helen.

"Nobody needs to know. We're both adults, and we're attracted to each other; why deny ourselves a little pleasure? I care about you, Helen, and I don't want to die without sharing some sex with someone I care about. I... chose you for a reason. I can explain later. Oh, I want sex with you, and I don't want to waste time arguing!"

She laid the strange object on a side-table, and began to remove her clothes. Under the coral-pink dress she wore just a string bikini, and a wisp of a matching bra. Helen was stunned to see what an incredible body the girl had. She was built like a young god; her legs were muscled beautifully, and her stomach was flat, and her breasts were tiny mounds on a perfect torso. She had a beautiful tan, with no tan lines, and Helen wondered, irrelevantly, how she managed that on this sunless vessel.

Then she began to undress Helen, and Helen let her. The clothes were folded, and laid carefully on a side, and as Helen watched, unable to look aside, the girl inserted the bulbous head of the object inside herself, and suddenly she appeared to be a beautiful boy, with an enormous erection.

"Help me!" she whispered, as she stroked Helen's thighs and positioned herself.

"Oh god," Helen said, in a hopeless voice. It had been a long time since she could recall having vaginal sex. With a thrust, the dildo was inside, and Maddie's perfect body hung over Helen, and without any foreplay, they were moving in a rhythm that could not be stopped easily. Helen reached out to the girl's body, and pulled it close, drawing that tiny, perfect breast into her mouth, and began to suck. She could see Maddie going slowly crazy, and Helen caressed her body, and Maddie put one hand on Helen's breast, and Helen filled her eyes with the desire on Maddie's face.

"It's my first time!" Maddie gasped out.

Helen shook her head, her body under the control of their mutual passion. She felt like a sixteen-year-old, completely at the mercy of her hormones, just as Maddie should be feeling at that moment. Helen caressed Maddie's perspiring face. "We mean nothing to each other," she gasped out, feeling that inexorably approaching climax.

"But it feels good, anyway," said Maddie, breathless. Then, unexpectedly, Maddie demanded, "Do you know what I'm feeling right now?"

"No, tell me!"

"I wish I was in love with you! I wish... I wish we were in love! I wish I was so much in love that... I would want to die for you! Oh, Helen..."

"There is someone for you out there," Helen gasped out, barely able to breathe, closing her eyes against the painful beauty of this clone of Sheila Connors. Somehow, Maddie did not feel like a youthful version of Sheila. She was a completely unique individual. She was going faster and faster, and Helen wondered whether the girl could possibly feel anything even slightly like what Helen could tell was going to hit Helen herself like a locomotive. Maddie began to whimper, her face a rictus of concentration, and Helen felt an insane triumph. They cried out, and suddenly they were sobbing with an excess of pleasure, and laughing, as Maddie kept pumping, for all the world like a boy, unable to stop.

It was incredibly erotic, even after the climax, to watch Maddie's rapid breathing, as she blew out her breath, her face split with an ear-to-ear grin. Then there was a sudden softening of the look in her eye, and Helen knew her own face had that stupid look of tenderness that she should not be feeling.

Maddie slowly laid her body on Helen's breast, and they kissed.

"This isn't love, I know," said Maddie, in a whisper.

"But it's close enough," said Helen.

Lena slowly turned away, and silently dragged herself out of the house. It had been a terrible experience; painfully erotic, and also just plain painful. All the way home, she cursed herself, and cursed Helen. She felt betrayed, and she wondered how she could face Helen again. Up until then, whenever Helen looked in Lena's eyes, the love in Helen's eyes had been unmistakable. For twenty years, Lena had wondered whether there was a future for her and Helen. All that time, as she was growing up, with her mother unreachably far away, and Helen frozen, she had wondered whether her feelings of admiration and affection for Helen could ever become sexual. Lena had been completely unable to fall in love with anyone, no matter how much she tried. When Helen had regained consciousness, Lena had felt their interrupted relationship become rekindled, and she knew that, at least in Helen's mind, their relationship was ambiguous, and only needed some encouragement to become what Lena wanted.

A minute or two into her voyeurism, she had recognized the girl as Maddie. Lena shook her head. No one had a right to look that incredible. Part of it, of course, was how she had caught fire in the act of sex. It took a long time for Lena to process what she had seen. She remembered every moment of that incredible performance; it was the most beautiful, and the most horrible thing she had ever seen.

## Helen is Staggered

For some days after that fateful night, Helen went about rather woodenly. When she was working with the robotics team, she was completely on task. But it was as though she had never had sex before.

When Helen and Maddie met, it was awkward. They were polite to each other, and when they were alone, they were exaggeratedly solicitous of each other, and neither one could help it.

The team worked harder than ever at the robot design and construction, but they made no progress.

At Helen's suggestion, they constructed a large robot that would do the job, a reverse scale model. Scale models were usually miniatures of the final structure. In this case, it was forty times larger.

"We figured out how to program the software using NewH," Helen said into the camera. She was recording messages to those on Terranova, and this was for Summer. "Or rather, we made something that would generate intermediate code in NewH. But we're stuck at the software level. I just don't have the background to help with it," she said into the camera. "But I'm in good shape; the chemical treatment is working. Once they think my kidneys and liver have had enough, they'll start using artificial insulin, or this other stuff that does something similar to insulin.

"It's so wrong that we should tie up seven people, working on something that has to do with the health of mostly just me, but Alison swears that they aren't taking time off from anything else!

"I wish I were there, to see the horses, and the other animals! I loved horses, and I loved dogs, and oh! I can hardly stand it, not to be there with you!"

It took two weeks for the return message.

"Send me all you've got. I think I can get your micro-robots built."

The next thing that happened was that the health services began seeing an increasing number of cases of diabetes in the shipboard population. It was among the most elderly, essentially those above the age of seventy. Meanwhile, there had been an enormous amount of news sent from Earth above and beyond the requested material. There was general news: political, entertainment, statistics, economics, art and music. Inevitably, there were fashions that the young people stared at hungrily, and presently the younger members of the Shipboard population were walking around wearing designs they had copied from the catalogs that had found their way into the news capsule. Obviously, there was no way for people on the Ship to order from these catalogs; they were just included for no good reason at all. But the fashions were so provocative, the adults were thoroughly unhappy.

Summer's request for a report on the progress of the robotics team was followed through with. Two weeks later, Summer replied that she had been able to build a micro-robot.

"I built a dozen robots about one-tenth the size of yours, and got them to build smaller ones, and after five generations, they're going to be able to make ones small enough. Meanwhile, we're seeing a lot of cases of diabetes, too. About one-tenth of the population aged fifty and up are diabetic. Can you send us the details of the chemical solutions to the problem? Some of the Dropouts are very sick."

Helen was utterly frustrated. In theory, going back and forth by video communication, it was possible to solve the problem, and for the moment, she was in perfectly good health. She was fully occupied, putting a lot of energy into the newly revitalized Collegium, involved in all sorts of projects, ranging from instrument building to education, to theater, and art. But Helen was obsessed with traveling back to Terranova. She knew it was impossible; the Ship was committed to a certain trajectory now, and going back was out of the question. They had no _destination_ , as such, but as Sita Chawla said, going back would be a total waste of fuel.

Helen finally arranged to meet with Maddie once again, and this time it was a whole night of sex. They were very secretive about their meetings, but Helen found herself becoming far more energetic and actually youthful, even though being on the team with Maddie was complicated. Maddie was becoming better at acting as if they were just friends, though they were becoming far more intensely emotionally bonded. Maddie was becoming somewhat possessive of Helen, and Helen had to talk to her firmly about showing that possessiveness in public.

A good antidote for Helen's preoccupation with her relationship with Maddie was Megan.

When Helen discovered that Megan had resumed taking kids out on the Spacewalks, she begged to be taken.

"Nobody else above the age of 22 ever wants to go! Are you sure?"

"Oh Megan, absolutely! When are you going again?"

"On a routine Spacewalk?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, since we just went, it's going to be another three months from now!"

"Then just take me!"

Alison said that Helen could go. "She took the Alpha out, so I don't see why not."

"If you say so!"

One amazing day, Helen found herself being fitted for a space suit, and pretty soon she was on the outside, with a tether line at her waist, floating next to the slowly accelerating ship, looking through the clear plastic of her helmet into the black of space.

"Oh Megan, this is just _wonderful!_ _"_

Megan chuckled. She had already had to check Helen from making unexpected moves, but Helen was reasonable, and except for the flights of fancy, kept fairly close to the rehearsed procedures. They had a few bags to put in storage, and a few bags to retrieve, and they worked well together. Helen was shown her own storage allocation, and she was delighted to find a few things she could use.

Because of the slight acceleration of the Ship, the tether line tended to pull them towards the nose of the Ship, so Helen had to keep a grip on the handholds on the outside of the skin of the vessel. It was effectively about a 40-pound pull, which was not a lot, and Helen could gaze her fill at the star-field, as Megan watched her indulgently.

"What are you thinking?"

"Oh . . . Megan, it's just beautiful! It's such a _privilege_ , to be able to do this . . . countless humans have looked up at the stars, wanting to have a clear, steady view of them, but they never could . . . but here I am . . ."

"But you could see stars from Earth, couldn't you?"

"Oh, not like this, Megan. You could see maybe one _thousandth_ of what we're seeing!"

"Really? That few?"

"Oh yes, and even those would _twinkle,_ you know. Nothing like this steady view. I mean, some of them twinkle even here. But on Earth, every star you saw would shimmer, as if it was about to go out."

"That would be pretty disconcerting!"

"Not at all; that's just how it was. And the Milky Way . . ."

It wasn't easy to explain to Megan what the Milky Way was, but even from out here, they could see the Milky Way, though it was simply called The Ecliptic, or the Galactic Plane. There was no place for poetry on board The Ship.

# Year 102: A Long Voyage

## A Trip Is Planned

Finally, after much discussion, Helen was able to persuade the Ship's Council—the successor to the Standing Committee—to permit Helen and a few volunteers to leave the Ship on one of the cutters, and return to Terranova. In contrast to the first two voyages to the planet, this was a far greater distance. The first voyage had been on the order of a few astronomical units, or a few hundred million miles. The second voyage had been twice that distance. This one would be five times the distance of the first voyage.

Luckily, there had been some major improvements in propulsion systems, and in materials. The lighter the cutter could be built, the faster it could accelerate. The Ship's Council also wanted Helen back, so the Ship would coast on its inertia, so as not to add to its already substantial velocity. In addition, they were passing fairly close to a large stellar mass, and could use it to sling the cutter back around, to achieve a much higher velocity in exchange for a couple of weeks of time.

The team had to be chosen carefully. In the end, Maddie was selected, and was asked to pick the best complement to her expertise.

It was Cutter _Gamma_ that was designated the transport for the trip. The entire Ship was in an uproar about the impending departure of Helen Nordstrom, who had become known, over the several months that she had been conscious, to practically everyone on board. The older population, who had known about her to varying degrees before she had been put in cryostasis most recently was deeply distressed, because it was viewed as relinquishing their claims on a valuable resource, even if the exact use of the resource was not clear to many of them. Helen had met with almost a hundred 'friends' from before, which had left her reeling with an acute awareness that this was a different time. But the last few weeks had been spent with her inner circle, and with people whom she had gotten to know recently, which made the temporal disorientation a little better. It was still a little difficult to relate once again with Alison, whom she had loved dearly, and Lena, and Sheila and Megan—though Megan was in some ways the easiest. Vonnie still left Helen off-balance, but Helen had not spent more than a total of a few dozen hours with her; they both found it difficult to pick up where they had left off. Matters were made worse because of little Maddie. Helen was now spending a couple of nights a week with the young woman, and Helen was coming to crave the hours of sex with her more each time, and she was sure Maddie felt the same way, based on how she tore off her clothes as she entered Helen's home and locked the doors, and how they threw themselves at each other, finding more athletic ways of satisfying their lust. The look in Maddie's eyes after they had rubbed themselves raw against each other, as she learned the tenderness that was second nature to Helen, made Helen feel younger. Helen found herself taking care of her appearance, and each day she selected her clothing with care, to appear beautiful to her youthful lover.

"You're having a wonderful influence on young Maddie," said Sheila on one occasion, when she was making detailed studies of Helen's blood sugar, and had taken a tissue sample, and was trying to show Helen under the microscope what sorts of things she was looking for.

Helen was startled, but covered up quickly.

"A good influence? She's a great kid," Helen exclaimed, "how could she be any more wonderful than she is?"

"Haven't you noticed how much more mature she is? She's started dressing more carefully; her speech has improved _vastly,_ " said Sheila, very emphatically. Helen had to admit that she had noticed some of that. Her heart sank; Maddie would not have been Helen's choice for a partner of any sort. Helen had hated herself for trying to think of Maddie as only a sex partner, and a temporary one at that.

Emotionally, she had had the hardest time relating to Lena; initially her libido had battled with her motherly feelings towards Lena, but now that she was all grown up, and biologically even older than Helen, but nevertheless devastatingly beautiful, and utterly charismatic, Helen had felt off-balance with her, despite Helen having spent an enormous amount of time in the McClintock household in those first few days. Recently, though, Lena seemed to have cooled off, and Helen felt a strange on-again off-again warmth from Lena. Helen wished Lena could come along with them on the cutter, but there really was no excuse to take her. Lena was probably the best successor to Helen in almost every way: Helen saw in her all the musicality, all the talent, the artistry, the warmth; _everything_ that she had admired in herself it seemed as though Lena owned in greater measure. Lena had even learned dance; there was a little ballet troupe on the Ship, and they had given a recital, and Lena had danced a solo that had left Helen in awe.

What Helen did not know was that Lena had been devastated by her sortie into voyeurism. Being as emotionally disciplined as she was, she had clamped down on her jealousy; after all, she had carefully discouraged Helen from becoming too emotionally involved with her. _That's my problem_ , Lena told herself, _I'm too much of a damn counselor_. She had watched the furtive signs of increasing intimacy between Helen and young Maddie with resentment. Lena had always felt that the Connors women were wonderful; she had known just how much Vonnie had adored Helen, and she had a good idea about how Sheila felt, and how remote the prospects were of _that_ going anywhere. But she had dismissed young Maddie as an intellectual lightweight, and would not have bet on her making a successful play for Helen's affections. But she could see Maddie blossom before her very eyes. The tangled web of emotional relationships gave Lena a headache, made worse with the prospect of everything that could happen to Helen on her way to Terranova, and even more, once she got there. Her thoughts turned to Summer, her beloved friend of her younger days, with whom she had shared just one physical encounter, which had left poor Summer too shaken to pursue. Lena blamed herself for the fact that, as far as she knew, Summer was still emotionally shut down. _I'm emotionally shut down, too,_ she thought to herself. But it was not because of Summer; it was because of her too-acute sense of responsibility.

The biggest worry of all was Helen herself. _Why_ was Helen encouraging Maddie? Wasn't it cruel to Maddie in the end? One of the things Lena had admired most in her idol Helen had been her determination not to hurt anyone with careless actions. She had been gentle with Lena's mother, despite the fact that Lena knew Daisy had submitted Helen to an onslaught of mixed signals from the time Lena's father had been killed. Despite the fact that Helen had been loving towards a number of women: Daisy, Lucy, Aunt Sissy, and even Megan, and the Connors women, Helen had never encouraged them recklessly. She had made it clear that Melanie and she were in a committed relationship, but given that, she gave of her love generously, but never like this! Lena simply could not see Helen and Maddie making any kind of sense. But then, Lena knew that she considered no one worthy of being a partner to Helen.

Except maybe Lena herself.

## Cutter Gamma Embarks

The moment came. The group leaving aboard Cutter Gamma would consist of only Helen, Maddie, Kurt, and Vonnie. Everyone was thoroughly unhappy, except Helen herself, who desperately wanted to see once again the people who had stayed behind on the planet. The last few days before departure, Helen had realized that she might never see those she left behind on the Ship; anything could happen, most of it unpleasant. Alison had made it clear that she wanted them all back, but she knew Helen very well, and it was obvious that Helen could not be forced to return.

Lena had avoided Helen for both their sakes. She wanted to preserve her own emotional equilibrium, and if Helen was too deeply involved with Maddie Connors to see Lena, the latter did not see any point in forcing herself into Helen's view. But Helen sought her out, and they had long conversations about matters that neither of them really cared very much about. The unspoken words were that Helen loved her, but could not bring herself to take the next step.

Finally, Lena took a deep breath and brought up the subject of Maddie.

"I can tell that you've made Maddie very happy!" she said.

Helen paled briefly, but then explained. "She moved too fast; I was too . . . desperate for that sort of . . . physical relationship. I was very lonely, Lena!"

"I know!" Lena shrugged, and then tried a smile, and with resignation, she could see Helen pierce through into Lena's feelings, which had been so carefully hidden. Volumes of meaning were exchanged in total silence. All pretense was gone, but Helen knew that it was too late.

What if Lena went with them? What if . . .

But Helen knew that was not Lena's way.

Helen had to visit Megan, and that was hard. With Megan, what you saw was what you got. "You might never come back, I know," said Megan.

"I wish you were coming with me!"

Megan shook her head. "I can't leave Andy," she said.

"He could come, too!"

Megan's smile went away, as she shook her head. "I helped Sita do the planning," she said. "You would never make it there with the added mass." She smiled once more, because she loved Helen, and because she had thought of something funny. "The last time, I wasn't knowledgeable enough to help with the navigation, but—I've picked up enough since then to understand the bad news!"

"Give me a hug, Barrows!" Megan opened her arms, and enfolded Helen in them. "You could never understand how much I'm going to miss you!"

"I have a rough idea," said Megan, her voice as rough as her idea.

Helen had reacquainted herself with the controls of the cutter, first with the flight simulator, and then with a practice maneuver around the ship, whose engines had been cut, and would remain cut until Helen was back, or they received word that the team would not return. Tissue had been saved from all four of them, though in the case of the Connors, it was not really necessary, since the original, Sheila, would remain behind. Kurt was young, and eager to go, though he was leaving behind an unhappy young lady. He was a good backup to Helen, who would be the chief pilot of the voyage, though both Connors women had turned out to be excellent navigators, and fair pilots.

_Gamma_ took off without much ceremony, with a large proportion of the _Galaxy_ population watching, some of them rather resentfully. Diane was in tears, as was Lena. Sita Chawla watched with a frown, with Alison and Megan on either side of her. "They _have_ to come back," she muttered, shaking her head. "I have plans for that Kurt. Oh!" She turned away from the viewer impatiently, and began walking to her station. "I never thought that health issues would take over such a large part of the planning process!"

It had only been the promise that the scientists on the planet, principally Summer Levin, could create this strain of bacteria/robots which could modify DNA in a controlled way that had convinced Sita, who was Chief of Operations. Giving up a cutter, and Helen Nordstrom, and Kurt Lang—she had absolutely refused at first.

It was Sita who had come up with the idea that they could strap two rockets on either side of the cutter, to give it as large an initial velocity as possible, after which the cutter could gently accelerate for about a quarter of the distance, at which point it would be time to start braking. The departing _Gamma_ , with the rockets on either side, reminiscent of the Space Shuttles of the 20th Century, was an impressive sight.

Inside _Gamma_ , the crew was strapped down into acceleration couches. Though the acceleration was milder than what early astronauts had been subjected to, nevertheless Vonnie was monitoring vital signs on all of them, especially her own, and Helen's since they were the older members of the party. Vonnie had made the case for accompanying Helen based on her medical training, in case Helen needed care in transit. The cutter had a full medical bay, ready for a large number of eventualities.

It was several hours before the external boosters were jettisoned. They were fired back towards the receding _Voyager,_ and had tiny engines that would eventually bring them back to the Ship over several months, because the Ship was loath to give up any mass whatsoever, and the separation blast gave the cutter a tiny bit of momentum forwards.

"Take the controls, Kurt," said Helen, after Kurt had recovered from the heavy acceleration.

"God, I'm starving," said Kurt, sucking from the bottle by his side.

"Me, too," said Maddie, at once.

"Yes; I'm going to heat up some food," replied Helen, raising her safety harness, which was a lightweight rigid frame.

When Helen had gotten started with the food preparation, Vonnie joined her. She looked svelte in the uniform tights they were all wearing, and she blushed as Helen's eyes inevitably appraised her as she walked up.

They had only met briefly after word had come down that Vonnie had been approved for the fourth place on the crew.

"Tell me what to do," she said.

"I'm just going to hand out this ready-made meal," Helen explained. "We have more interesting food for later on."

"What's in here?"

"Oh . . . bread, an egg-substitute, fruit . . . that sort of thing."

"Something to drink?"

Helen showed her how the beverage had been put in the package. The heater had warmed the first package already, and Vonnie took it out to Kurt. The significant acceleration of the cutter, even though a lot lower than the level they had experienced with the booster rockets, made it necessary to lean slightly forward as Vonnie walked, and she had reasoned this out by herself even before she had been warned of it when they were briefed. In her tights and top she looked as sexy as the other two women, despite her greater age. Kurt smiled his thanks, and turned back to his console. Maddie had already joined Helen in the galley, and the three women strapped themselves to the walls, and ate in silence.

Of course, they had to surreptitiously study each other, but realizing that tact wasn't really necessary, taking their cue from Helen, they looked at each other frankly curious.

"Maddie, you've lost a little weight," said Vonnie, studying her daughter. The tights came up to the navel, and the tight sweater they all wore was fairly snug, to eliminate the need to keep the cabin too warm.

"Yeah, just a kilo or less," agreed Maddie pleasantly. Helen had hardly ever seen the two of them together, and watched the interaction with interest.

The two sets of eyes, a lot less alike than the eyes of Vonnie and Sheila, for instance, moved to look at Helen at the same time, making her grin with amusement, and a pair of quizzical looks were directed at Helen in close synchronization.

"I just love studying mothers and daughters, or sisters, or twins," Helen confessed with a blush.

The pair in question exchanged a quick look, and it seemed as if Maddie had agreed for her mother to speak for both of them. "We do, too," she said, with a slight smile. "I remember staring at you and little Athene," she said, "but you never noticed." She shook her head. "What a miracle that child is!"

"I've only seen her in videos," said Maddie, who was a half-inch taller than Vonnie.

Both women admired Helen, dressed in the same uniform as they. Helen had exercised diligently for some weeks, in preparation for the arduous journey, and she looked very trim. Her braid had been cut down to a little lower than shoulder-length, and the hair pulled back away from her face made her forehead very high, and she had neatened her eyebrows, encouraged by Maddie.

There were bunks into which they could strap themselves, but only one actual sleeping cabin, with a couch large enough to accommodate two. Absolutely nothing had been said about emotional entanglements on the way, though that had been a major factor that had emerged in the earlier cutter missions. Alison and Sita had talked it over, and had concluded that it would be almost impossible to engineer anything better than what the four crew members could decide on their own.

Vonnie declared she would go forward and keep company with Kurt, and Helen quickly nodded approval.

Once she had gone, without a word, Helen and Maddie slipped into the sleeping cabin. Maddie approached Helen, and looked into her eyes. Her lips were parted, and she reached for the hem of Helen's top.

"We can't go crazy, like we did at home," Helen said softly.

"I know. I just want you!" Maddie whispered.

"Is that locked?"

"Yeah."

Soon they were naked, and they made love standing, careful not to move too vigorously, because the cutter had been modified in such a way that a vigorous motion could be felt in the pilot's seat.

"When we get to the planet, will you go back to . . . Commander Arnaud?"

"I don't know yet. Must see."

"After you . . ." Maddie smoothed her hand down Helen's breast. "I shouldn't have come to you . . . and forced you into sex. I'm . . . addicted to you. Did you know that?"

"You didn't force me, I wanted it!"

"I think we make a good pair!" Maddie whispered.

Helen tenderly stroked Maddie's cheek, and Maddie closed her eyes briefly, in bliss. "You'd make a good pair with anybody," Helen whispered back.

They stroked each other tenderly a long time.

"Mother only found out about us a week or so ago," Maddie confessed. They had pulled the covers over themselves, and strapped themselves down together.

"What did she say?" demanded Helen, interested.

"She's been in love with you for twenty years!"

"I knew that," Helen said, a trifle impatiently.

"So had my grandmother," said Maddie, tracing Helen's lips with the tip of her finger, as Helen played with her breast, which Helen found irresistible.

"That's so weird," Helen said, wonderingly. "When we first met, she was just about . . . in her forties, or fifties . . ."

Helen rolled her under, and got comfortable with Maddie gripped between her legs.

"What do you think of your grandma, and your mom?"

Maddie's eyes defocused, as she imagined her grandmother; and her mother, chatting with Kurt.

"I think they're wonderful," Maddie said. It was the first time she had ventured an opinion about her family.

"We're going to have to take care of Kurt between us," Helen said, after a while.

"I know. I think . . . I think I can help him out," Maddie said in barely a whisper. "But you know you're the one, Helen!" She kept her hands still, to underline the importance of what she was saying. "You've stolen . . ."

"Don't say it!" said Helen, feeling miserable. This one was as innocent as the other Connorses. Sheila had been wise to never marry.

"I must. Haven't you ever told someone—Melanie, perhaps?—that you love her?"

"Of course!"

Maddie's eyes shone. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"

After that, they could not sleep any longer. They slipped into the bath and tenderly washed each other up, got dressed in fresh uniforms, and headed forward.

The two seated at the console looked around, trying not to look too interested. They noted the flushed faces of Helen and Maddie, but ignored them. Kurt had been taking readings, and turned back to his screen, covering up his impatience, but Vonnie greeted them with a suppressed sigh and a neutral smile.

"Anything interesting?" asked Helen, taking a seat.

"We've been talking with _Voyager_ ," said Vonnie softly. "The planet was notified that we had set out, and they don't expect a reply for about ten days."

Helen nodded, while Maddie sat down at the station designated for her, and studied her screen, while she composed herself.

"Mother, get hooked up to the wires. Helen, you too. I'm going to take readings on everybody; it's about the right time."

Helen made a sound of impatience, but she strapped on the sensors and inserted her finger into the clever little gadget that read her sugar level. She had always resented the fact that her health condition was monitored more closely than anyone she was with. On this trip, they had insisted on monitoring all four crew members as if they all had fragile health. In order for Helen not to be singled out, they were all going to be honorary diabetics, which amused the others, and annoyed Helen.

"Ladies," said Kurt, "we're going into the mass very soon."

There was a large planetoid on the fringe of the Phoebus system towards which the cutter had been launched. It was too small to either help or hinder the _Voyager_ , but it would be used to impart a large impulse to the tiny cutter, to fling it even faster into the gravitational well of Phoebus. (Aboard the _Voyager_ , half the population wrote the name of the star using the old spelling of Phoebus, while the others spelled it Febos, which was yet another cause of exasperation for Helen. At first Helen had been frustrated with the planet, since it offered so few features that could be exploited. Measured against Earth, it was a pathetic rock, even if it was larger. But over the years, Helen had come to realize that relative to all the planets that had ever been discovered, Terranova was infinitely more Earth-like than any others, bar none. There had definitely been water on it, even if not the vast oceans of Earth, and there were definite signs that there had once been an atmosphere, with even some free Oxygen. But there were absolutely no signs of life in its past.) The planetoid towards which they were heading was just an enormous asteroid, from what they could tell at a distance, about a million times the mass of the _Voyager_ , so it wasn't even given a name, other than _the mass_.

## The Mass

It would take them a week to go around The Mass. They settled into the routine that they would follow all the way on the journey. Each of them had his or her own designated station, the most important of which was Kurt's console at which the navigation computer had its big screen. All the steering for the greater part of the voyage would be performed by software, just as they were on the _Voyager_ itself, controlled by commands from Kurt's console. When the time came to take manual control for a landing, Helen—or whichever of them would take her place—would sit at the pilot's station, and use analog controls that were more traditional. The cockpit was small; a lot of space had been borrowed for the galley, a small study area, the bath, and the sleeping room, and the storage space at the back, which was accessible only through a tiny airlock.

The mass gave them just enough excitement at the beginning of the voyage to make things interesting. It was essentially spherical under its own gravity, but was nothing but rock, as far as they could see. Their trajectory had been calculated to swing very close to the object indeed, which would cause them to be flung forward along its path, hurling them toward the planet. By the time the cutter approached orbital radius, Terranova would have overtaken them slightly, and they would chase it down and land.

The return trip would be difficult. They would use a very weak nuclear furnace that would be mounted on a beam astern of the cutter. Getting the cutter into orbit would be the hardest part of the trip, because using a nuclear power source was something whose risks had not been determined. Once the cutter got into the vicinity of the planet, they would be under orders from the planetary authority, which was Melanie and a planetary council. Word had come in that if it was decided to attempt the trip, they had fair confidence that the cutter could be outfitted to make the return trip successfully. The _Voyager_ had been skeptical of the strength of Terranovan science, even after nine years, but there were worst case scenarios that could get the team back, possibly using up a great deal of the resources of the little planetary community, in particular the little space shuttle that had been left with them. It was a far simpler, smaller craft than any of the fleet of space shuttles in 20th-century near space exploration around Earth, but since it performed essentially the same function, it was called The Space Shuttle. It was this pride and joy of the Terranovan space fleet that might have to be sacrificed to get Cutter Gamma back to the _Voyager_.

None of the crew had taken The Mass very seriously, though all of them except Vonnie had been involved in planning the trajectory of the cutter, and Helen had helped actually calculate the parameters of it. They had known, in the abstract, all the details of the maneuver, but when the time for it came, and they were strapped in, with Helen at the piloting controls, just in case, the approach of the dark surface was a frightening thing. It was all nearly pitch dark, the scene being only dimly backlit by Phoebus. Suddenly the screen brightened up, and Kurt smiled around at them infuriatingly. Apparently it was an enormous sail that they had rigged up, which served as a reflector, and the highly sensitive optical elements did the rest. They looked out the side ports, and there was a vast sheet all around the cutter, which Kurt said they could jettison as soon as it got in the way.

In a few hours, Kurt watched the computer cue in the rotation that would aim the cutter directly away from the mass, just as they turned into the Phoebus-ward side of it, and they thought the cutter would crash into the rocky surface.

"Oh gosh," said Kurt, on behalf of all of them, as they gazed at the scary view from the rear cameras which showed the rough surface of the mass at very close quarters indeed, and then the jets nudged them out of orbit, and they could feel the acceleration as _Gamma_ went careening off sunward, and the screen adjusted by dimming, and the drives smoothly pushed them even faster along their way.

## A Delicate Dance of Emotions

Inevitably Helen had found herself following Kurt back to the galley one shift, fairly early in the journey. The rotations were quite arbitrarily planned so that the two crew at the controls were every possible pair of them in turn. None of them knew this, but Helen had arranged that it would be she who would be free when Kurt's turn to sleep came up. (Kurt had longer shifts than any of them, being essentially responsible for the journey, even though Helen was nominally the captain.)

Kurt looked both exhausted, and a little nervous and embarrassed.

He awkwardly helped with preparing the snacks they had wanted to serve out; they took them out to the Connors women who were in charge of the controls, though at this stage, as the cutter approached the mass, it could practically fly itself most of the way there. Maddie and Vonnie had realized what was happening in the back, and had their eyes glued to their screens except for a quick look up to thank Helen, who actually served out the snacks. Helen wore a tiny bland smile; it didn't make sense to make a big production of minimizing the awkwardness of the moment. Kurt turned and pulled himself back to the galley, and Helen followed.

"You don't have to, Dr. Nordstrom," Kurt said in a low voice.

"Well," said Helen, surprised to find herself just as tense as Kurt was, "you definitely need the rest, Kurt. I'm going to settle you in, and then . . . we can talk it over."

"I can put myself to bed!" Kurt exclaimed, getting very red.

It was a delicate situation.

When Kurt had been first brought into the diabetes treatment project (the so-called Helen Project), he had had only the barest idea about who Helen was. As he gradually got interested in the problems, and as he quietly found out on his own who this Helen person was, he acquired such a greatly exaggerated impression of Helen's importance that it became awkward. He began treating Helen with awkward respect, and indicating annoyance with those who seemed to be contradicting Helen or frustrating her. It was both embarrassing and fascinating to watch his reaction to Helen's greater-than-expected abilities with computer science and mathematics, both of them subjects which Helen had studied extensively in her teens and twenties.

It had taken many weeks until Kurt was able to relax around Helen, and she had made a special effort to relate to him more casually. Most of all, he had taken the fact that Helen's sexual preference was for women very big, and had declared that he was a modern human being, totally in sympathy with all respectful sexual lifestyles.

"I could give you some time alone, and then join you to sleep," Helen offered, though she had not planned to say that. She had planned to urge him to accept her as a sexual partner for the rest period, because he would otherwise probably not be able to rest.

"No, _you_ rest, and I'll . . . get comfortable out here!" Helen was stunned by the depth of his misplaced respect for her. They continued to argue in low voices for a minute or so, as they each got redder and redder in the face.

"Let's just go inside together, and . . . lie down," whispered Helen awkwardly. "I want to . . . talk."

He could not refuse her, not knowing what she wanted to talk about.

They went into the sleeping compartment together; it was just a space with a bed, and four closets and the bath leading off it. Helen strapped herself in, and Kurt lay down beside her and strapped down, and they turned the lights down.

"Tell me about yourself," said Helen softly.

"What do you want to know?"

"Oh . . . anything . . . about your folks, your interests . . . anything!"

He started out saying that there wasn't much to tell, but she pried quite a lot of information out of him. He had had a single homosexual experience, about which he told her with great embarrassment, and then there had been two girls in his life, and it seemed as though they were both still very much in his life, and one had been very upset at his going on the mission.

Helen's turn came next, and she told him a highly censored version of her early sexual experiences. Helen had had serious relationships with five men, and close to twenty women, and she shared just a couple of them.

"Miss Helen," he said presently, "I don't want to fall in love with you!" And he was on the brink of tears.

Though Helen knew that the best approach to the problem was probably to make light of the whole thing, she simply could not joke about their situation. Kurt made her feel like a little teenager, even more than she usually felt. There was a sex-starved teenager in Helen, side-by-side with the worldly-wise old lady, and at times like this, the teenager always took charge.

"It's going to be a long time, Kurt . . . by the end of it, I'm going to be in love with all three of you. How can we help it?" Kurt caught his breath, and Helen reached over to press his hand. "We're basically decent, intelligent people. None of us are going to . . . demand anything from the others. We're going to have to . . . give love, without any expectation."

"Oh my god," said Kurt, overcome by the thought. "I don't think I can be that sort of saint. Maybe _you_ can!"

It was time to stop talking.

Helen sat up awkwardly, and peeled down his uniform tights. She could feel a painful erection under his clothing, and with gentle hands she released it, and closed her lips over it. He tried to push her away, but she trapped his hands in her own, and ever so slowly worked to give him release. She had brought a napkin with her, and when he climaxed with a strangled cry, she tenderly cleaned him up, and put away the napkin, and turned to him. His hazel eyes looked into hers, and she saw with secret triumph that it had not been as great an intimacy as he had feared it would be. They drifted into each other's arms, and she kissed him tenderly, and he kissed her back. This was dangerous; if they kept this up, she would make him hers, and he would be no longer any use to either of the two girls who seemed to share his affections.

He began to take his clothes completely off, and Helen followed suit, and they cuddled together, and briefly discussed their intimacy. He whispered that Helen had spoiled him for all other women henceforth and forever more, but there was no conviction in his voice. _Liar_ , Helen shot back, with a smile in her voice, and they laughed together.

It felt wonderful to have a male body in her arms, after so long. Helen loved sex with men; it was only emotionally that she found it difficult to relate to men intimately. Kurt had been easy; because they had a common interest in _not_ becoming emotionally involved, somehow it was easier. Helen's first and only legal marriage had been to a man named Kurt, and she told her companion so, and they talked briefly about that before young Kurt dozed off. Helen pulled the covers over both of them, and they settled down to sleep.

Helen was woken by someone shaking her foot; it was Maddie.

"Message from the Ship," she said, filling her eyes with the scene illuminated by the light through the open door.

"How did you get in?"

"You had left the door unlocked, silly. Of course I was coming in if the door was unlocked."

"I smell ripe; I've gotta wash up."

"Okay. The message will keep, if you want to keep sleeping," she said, ready to back out again.

Helen gently pushed her out of the room, and followed her out, without disturbing Kurt.

"Jeeze, you're completely naked! Put something on!"

Helen shushed her, and held her firmly.

"I'm getting cleaned up, and I'll join your mother up front. You undress, and get in with Kurt."

"Did you do it?" asked Maddie, reddening slightly.

Helen nodded solemnly. She tapped her lips, indicating that it had been oral sex.

"Do you want me to do it, too?"

"If you want to," Helen whispered.

She leaned forward, and Maddie touched Helen intimately, as if to establish her ownership of her, and Helen allowed her a few seconds of intimacy, out of sight of the cockpit. "Wash up before you handle any food," Helen said seriously, and backed into the sleeping room, and into the bath.

Helen cleaned up carefully, and without waking Kurt, pulled out a change of clothing, and went into the galley to change. She watched Maddie disrobe, and gazed her fill at that incredible androgynous body, as Maddie displayed herself for Helen, and pulled herself into the sleeping room, leaving her clothes with Helen.

It took a few minutes to put the uniforms into the washing machine and set it going. Helen picked up a tray of snacks, and headed forward to join Vonnie, who was looking very nervous.

"Is Maddie going to take a nap?" Vonnie asked softly, her eyes on the screen.

"Yes," said Helen, handing her the snack.

The message was basically the news bulletin that was sent back to the planet, as well as towards Earth, via _Helen I_ , which was in orbit around a dark system which the Voyager had passed on its way long ago. They used an updated coding scheme which permitted excellent self-correction, with extra background information for Earth to make sense of the news being sent to them. From the huge message that had brought the details of Helen's diabetic treatment back to the _Voyager_ , they knew that this contact would be viewed on Earth almost as if it was a communication from an extra-terrestrial intelligence. Knowledge of, and interest in, the _Galactic Voyager_ project had waned over the years, but had come back to dominate the international media roughly 20 Earth-years ago; probably briefly, Helen had no doubt, knowing what Earth fads were like. But there would be a few dedicated souls who would be occupied with looking out for further messages. Obviously forty years was a long time between communications, and as _Voyager_ moved gradually further away, the intervals between news bulletins from either side would keep growing.

## Keeping Fit

A major challenge on board the _Gamma_ was to keep up their body tone. It was always a problem in missions of this sort, but because of the great time of transit, the need for maintaining good physical condition was even more important.

After much worrying about it, Sheila and the chief medical officer, a young woman of Dutch descent who lived in Tropical, decided that one of the means they would employ was to encourage an extra-vehicular activity every week. There were pressure suits on board, and they would go out in pairs, always carefully tethered, and crawl over the entire surface of the cutter for half an hour, before they came back inside. Helen was raring to go, and it had been planned that her companion would be Vonnie Connors.

The procedures were much the same as on the Ship, so Helen was familiar with it, but Vonnie was not, having forgone the Spacewalk experience when her turn had come up. It was understandable that it should be so, because she was physically of the proper age when she was just emerging from the Vat. The major difference was that the airlock was a tiny booth, out of which they had to wriggle carefully, to emerge on the outside through a hatch.

Helen went out first, and waited ready to help Vonnie out. But Vonnie needed no help; with great grace and economy of movement she pulled herself out, and as Helen helped her tether herself, she joined Helen on the outside. Vonnie, even when Helen had first gotten to meet her, had been a graceful figure. At first she had been clumsy at certain things, but even as Helen watched, she got control of her limbs, and was as beautifully balanced as any dancer. Helen had no inkling that Helen herself was, in large part, Vonnie's inspiration. When the Connors women had begun to make Helen's acquaintance, Helen had been gradually becoming less concerned with her appearance, and more with her health, and the welfare of the children. But the Connors had found a dozen videos of Helen in the archives: Christmas specials, operas, musical performances, movies, even a serial television show about a spacefaring vessel that eerily foreshadowed the history of the _Galactic Voyager_ itself. Helen did not know that Vonnie had watched these videos repeatedly, as she obsessed over Helen.

Very few on the _Voyager_ watched ballet footage, but Vonnie was an exception. Modeling herself on Helen was a plan that could have only limited success; Helen was built very differently from Vonnie; though Helen's face was particularly expressive and sweet, Helen was heavily-boned, and her hands and feet and limbs tended towards those of a lumberjack more than those of a dancer, though Helen could dance like an angel despite these handicaps when she had been a teenager. But some of the other dancers were petitely built, and Vonnie had modeled her gait and her movements after them.

Helen observed Vonnie moving around the surface of the craft, and saw how Sheila's deliberate movements were echoed in those of her daughter, but how much more balanced and beautiful Vonnie was, even essentially in free fall. The cutter's engines were briefly shut down for the early part of the EVA, after which the pair on the outside would give the word for the engines to be started up again, which helped the spacewalkers with their objective of getting some exercise, as well as keeping them aligned with the cutter.

They had talked it over beforehand, and decided to furl the sails which had helped them see the surface of The Mass a little better. Carefully tethered throughout, Helen and Vonnie finished half their inspection of the cutter, and began folding down the sails, which were stored in brackets alongside the vessel. It was vigorous but satisfying work, though Vonnie was a little annoyed at how Helen hovered over her. The two on the inside could hear their conversation, so there was a constraint on how impatient Vonnie could get. Though biologically they were of similar ages: Vonnie considered herself a woman of forty four or a little older, she was chronologically just about thirty four. Helen, on the other hand, had actually been awake for about forty years, all years packed with myriad experiences, and Helen had met and made acquaintance with thousands of people. Chronologically, Helen was more than a century old, which was a thought that intruded often into Vonnie's consciousness, and filled her with an awkward reverence for Helen which only the latter's unaffected friendliness helped to dispel.

Presently they were inside, Vonnie very much out of breath, while Helen only had a pleasant glow. They greeted their friends, and exchanged a few words of debriefing, and Vonnie glared at her child who was regarding Vonnie with a smirk. Then they headed to the back, to wash up and change.

They could certainly take turns in the bath, which was barely large enough to accommodate two. Helen stood back, and motioned Vonnie in, but Vonnie removed her suit with Helen's help, then fastened herself to a bracket, and turned to help Helen out of her suit, and presently they were down to the skin. Vonnie pulled Helen in with her, and closed the waterproof door behind her.

She had wonderful, deep blue eyes, and Helen was struck once more with Vonnie's severe beauty. She had nothing like her daughter's amazing physique, and her personality was serious in the extreme, a total contrast to that of Maddie. While she sprayed Helen down, she made love to Helen with the same grave expression with which she had asked Helen, twenty years before, whether she believed in love.

In absolute silence they washed each other, and waited for the water to be sucked out of the chamber, and kissed.

But the intimacy stopped there. Once Vonnie had dried herself, she insisted on wearing bedclothes: a nightie that could have been worn by a girl of the nineteen sixties, and as she knelt on the sleeping surface, braiding her hair in preparation for sleeping, she looked at Helen inquiringly.

"Didn't you bring a nightie? Shall I lend you one?"

"Oh, no . . . I, er, have a couple," Helen said, rooting around for something she could wear to bed. There happened to be an ancient pair of boxers she had brought along, and a T shirt, and she put them on, and she could not help glancing at Vonnie to see whether she approved. Vonnie got comfortable, and made room for Helen. Helen curled up, ready for anything, but Vonnie only smiled, and closed her eyes, and was presently clearly asleep. They had left a night light on, and in its dim glow, Vonnie looked cute and cuddly. Helen pulled the covers over them, and fastened the safety harness in place, and drifted off to an unexpectedly restful sleep, still surprised at how it had gone.

## Entertainment

Once the excitement of the maneuver around the mass was over, there was little to interrupt the boredom of their existence.

Initially, each of them was excited with the prospect of spending the rest period with each of the others. Over six cycles, Helen had literally slept with each of the other three at least once, and after some weeks, she had allowed Kurt to have vaginal sex with her. He was a sweet boy, and if circumstances had been different, it might have been tempting to make their relationship a permanent one, but somehow their regular bouts of sex became only an exercise. Kurt told Helen about his feelings for Maddie, but he was realistic about their chances of hitting it off. "I'm not her type, and she isn't mine," he said. "She's kind of an intense person."

"I thought she was playful!" Helen exclaimed.

"Oh no," he said, shaking his head. "She talks about you a lot."

"Oh? And what does she say?"

He refused to answer. Helen pestered him, but he would only reveal that in his opinion Helen was a major event in Maddie's life. "I mean, you were one in my life, too. But . . ." He found it difficult to explain, but Helen gathered that over the last several weeks, he had gotten over the Helen legend. But he was very much under the impression that Maddie wanted Helen for her very own, legend or no, and was in fear that once they arrived at the planet, Helen would leave her.

Helen's 'nights' with Maddie were definitely intense. Both of them looked forward to sleeping with each other, and it was getting so that unless the sex was spectacular, Maddie would be disappointed. With Vonnie, there was very little sex, but Helen was beginning to enjoy Vonnie's company. Vonnie loved to talk, about everything and anything, having first made sure that Helen was in the mood for it. She had read an enormous amount, Helen knew, and as the days went by, she seemed to simply blossom, just as Maddie had done.

It was possible to leave the controls for long periods of time, and the four of them occasionally were in the galley, hooked to the walls, while Helen played a little guitar she had brought along. It was also possible to make some innovations with their food, though traditional cooking was impossible. But Helen learned to make an omelet by squirting an egg and oil mix into a tightly-closed cooking vessel, and heating it. It was greasy, but a vast improvement on the prepared foods they had on board.

After more than a month of this unvarying existence, occasionally speaking with the _Voyager_ , and Alison McClintock, and Lena, and sometimes Megan, they finally were close enough to receive messages from the planet. At first there were voice-only messages, and then video, in quite good quality. Helen was so bored that she watched all the bulletins, and as they were able to pick up off-the-air television, they began watching that for an hour or two every day.

Helen became completely uninterested in sex, and relations between Helen and Maddie began to slowly sour. They were perfectly professional and even warm while on duty, but at 'night' when they were together, Helen only accommodated Maddie minimally, and was even uninterested in talking.

Eventually when Vonnie and Helen were scheduled to share a rest period, and Vonnie had complained of aches and pains, Helen offered to give her a massage, which she eagerly accepted. But Helen fell asleep in the middle of it. Vonnie got her comfortable, and took a nap for a couple of hours, and then woke Helen up.

"Are you all right?"

"Why?"

"I don't know; you look tired!"

"I _am_ tired . . . how else am I to look?"

Vonnie decided to take a look at Helen's biodata, just in case, and found that her blood sugar was low despite the medication.

"Have you been taking the drugs?"

"Yeah! Like clockwork; I know the schedule, and there isn't much to do except stick to it, honestly."

"But look at your sugar numbers: they're peaking sharply here, and then they're suddenly lower, and they stay low."

"That's good, isn't it?"

They argued about it, and the next duty period when Helen and Vonnie were on duty, Vonnie reported the situation to both the Ship and to the planet. Some days later, Daisy Warren sent a message on video, asking for continuous readings over a 24-hour period. A week or so later, a similar request came from Sheila. From then on, Helen had to sit still with her finger in the special monitoring slot, patient but bored.

Vonnie found herself sharing the couch with Maddie, who was fast asleep, curled up like a little kid. Just as Vonnie was about to drift off, Maddie woke up, and shook her mother's shoulder.

"Are you asleep?"

"I was just dozing off," Vonnie confessed.

"I want to . . . talk," said Maddie.

"Is everything all right?"

There was silence, and when Vonnie opened her eyes wider and studied her daughter who had so seldom wanted to talk before, she found her face streaked with tears.

"What's the matter?" she asked, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Maddie's arm.

"I'm losing her!" said Maddie, her voice choked with tears.

At once they were no longer rivals for the affection of Helen, but mother and daughter. Vonnie was puzzled to find that her sorrow for Maddie overrode her feelings of triumph that perhaps Maddie was coming to her senses.

"What makes you think that?"

"I just . . . know," said Maddie, infuriatingly.

"Darling, if you're not more definite about what you're noticing, I can't help you! Did she say something? Maybe you misunderstood?"

Maddie shook her head violently. "No . . . Mother, she doesn't find me attractive anymore! I can't make her have . . . I can't make her look at me!"

Vonnie let out a sigh of relief.

"Haven't you been paying attention for the last few weeks?"

"Why? What?"

"We've been exchanging messages with the Ship and the planet, didn't you know?"

"Oh, that." Maddie sniffed loudly. "What has that to do with what _I'm_ talking about?"

"Sugar powers all the activity in the body, darling. Everything. Thinking, moving, feeling . . . If Helen has trouble metabolizing sugar, nothing happens the way it should. She isn't having sex with _anybody_."

"Oh god, Mother! Is she going to be all _right?"_

Vonnie smiled in the dark. "That's what we came for, sweetheart. Remember?"

"But . . . I thought the drugs . . ."

"When we go back up front, we can take a urine sample, and see whether her liver and her kidneys are all right. Things can get a lot worse before she's in any sort of grave danger." Vonnie drew Maddie close, and wrapped her arms around her, and for the first time in many years, the youngster responded and cuddled back. Vonnie sighed; Maddie thought she was a simple clone of her mother, but that was not quite the case. Not quite. Vonnie wished it were so now. "When I was your age . . . I was madly in love with her!"

Maddie squeezed her, a little kiss. "I kinda knew," she said.

"I was so angry when they put her in cryostasis! But I wanted her alive and healthy, and so it made sense to freeze her until we had a way of treating her."

"I guess we're sort of competing for her. Mother . . . I think that if she doesn't want me, I don't want to live anymore."

Vonnie knew Helen a little better than Maddie did, in spite of all the sex they must have had. She knew that Helen would never turn her back on either of them, no matter what she decided to do for the rest of her life. Vonnie was now wise enough to realize that it was not the end of the world to have one's beloved choose another. Sometimes it was not so great to have your beloved choose you, either. But Maddie was not in any condition to listen to reason.

Maddie was professional when their sleep period was over. She did not show any particular anxiety about Helen's condition, but very matter-of-factly asked whether Helen would give her a urine sample.

"What for?"

"I want to send it forward to Terranova, so they have more data to work with."

"The sample?"

"No, just the parameters. Wait; we could actually send a blood sample ahead of us; I had not thought that far. We have a probe that can get there a lot sooner than we can!"

## Gamma Sends A Packet

A week later, a probe was found to be approaching Terranova orbit, and a remote-controlled drone was sent to capture it. The capsule was brought to Summer Levin, who was the one who could make use of this sort of material. When she opened up the capsule, there were a number of others present, including Athene Nordstrom.

"There's a urine specimen, a blood sample . . . and this looks like a tissue sample."

"There's a list of contents, a sort of manifest," said Athene. "What can you do with it?"

"I can replicate it in a sort of culture," said Jennifer. Jennifer Connors had decided to stay on the planet as well, and was the most experienced biomedical technician they had.

If they could make a sufficiently large culture, a sort of laboratory sample of Helen herself, they could let loose the microbots on a portion of the sample, to see how they dealt with it. Thus far, the only way they could examine any tissue that was related to Helen was to take tissue from Athene, but of course Athene's DNA did not contain the gene they wanted to modify. It was an obvious thing to do, to send Helen's tissue ahead of her, but it would never have happened if not for Maddie's brain wave.

This was happening late at night, when the drone had returned with the capsule. The following morning, when Daisy got to her desk, there was a message for her, saying that a capsule had been sent from the approaching cutter, which gave them an enormous head-start on trying out the treatment. Summer and her assistants were still working on the biomechanical micro-robots, but they were using a more organic approach, where each of the little half-mechanical organisms had more organic components than mechanical components.

Daisy hurried through her morning duties, and as soon as she was done, began to process Helen's samples. It was soon clear that Helen's blood glucose was barely under control; the insulin levels were low, so that the normal sugar intake was not being balanced out with consumption. The drugs were bringing the sugar down, but stronger doses were necessary. The doses had been increased, but Helen was becoming lethargic and inefficient.

Back on the _Gamma_ , Helen's turn for a spacewalk came up, but Vonnie said Helen should not go out.

"Why? What are you guys not telling me?"

"There's no secret, Helen; your diabetes has gotten a little worse, and we had to increase your drug strength. We don't know how safe it is for you to be outside!"

Helen slumped in her seat. She knew they were right; she had certainly been feeling lethargic for a while now, but she had been attributing it to mere boredom.

The tissue culture was successful, and Summer's team got half of it, while Jennifer got to examine the other half, to study its properties, because it was the only sample of Helen's tissue they had ever had.

Meanwhile, there was a significant incidence of diabetes among the older folks on the planet, just as there had been on the Ship. It wasn't actually that the disease was becoming more widespread; it was just that diabetes awareness was resulting in more diagnoses. The drugs described in the message from Earth had been manufactured, and most of the younger diabetic patients had responded beautifully. There was artificial insulin, which helped the more elderly patients. They were lucky because so far there had been no incidence of the worrisome Type I diabetes, which was a hereditary condition as far as everyone knew.

# Year 102: Arrival

## Planet Sighted

By the time the cutter was close enough to sight the planet, they were thoroughly sick of the life on board, Helen more than any of the others. With some adjustment of the dosage of her maintenance drugs, she was almost back to normal, and she pestered them to allow her on their weekly spacewalks. Maddie went up with her every time, and that helped. Helen drew in, emotionally, and though Helen was as warm as she could bring herself to be with the two Connors women, Maddie was still deeply unhappy with Helen. Yvonne had always left Helen alone whenever they shared the sleeping booth, so Helen did not have to work very hard on her account. With Kurt, she just gave him a sisterly kiss, and turned her back on him and went to sleep, leaving him to his own devices.

Helen and Maddie were up front when they saw the first glint off the tiny sphere. From that moment, it took more than a week to close in on it, and soon they were carrying on two-way communications with the surface.

Melanie and the equivalent of their air traffic control staff (which was a strictly part-time occupation, since there was only the Shuttle to worry about) had decided that the best thing to do was to leave the cutter in high orbit, and ferry whatever had to be brought down via the minuscule Shuttle. The Shuttle had an extensible attachment that would serve as an access tube.

The tiny crew of four were in fair condition, physically, when the end of their voyage approached, but emotionally they were in terrible shape. Helen was eager to see her daughter, but her tired mind flitted from the thought of meeting each of the others to the next, unable to focus on any one of them. It was easier to worry about the technicalities of how they were to actually reach the surface. By this time, Melanie Arnaud's severe face was quite familiar to them, and Helen and she had spoken often, and Melanie had smiled and said she was looking forward to seeing Helen once again, in the flesh.

Finally, they watched as the little shuttle craft approached them from the rear, and with great care, closed the gap between them down to about twenty feet. Up close, it looked enormous, and they despaired of successfully making the transfer onto it, but the crew of the Shuttle seemed confident that they could do the job. Presently Kurt and Maddie suited up, and the Shuttle broke out its access tube, and it was painfully attached to the side of the cutter. It was not airtight, and was only intended to assist in keeping loose objects from drifting.

"Okay, we've got a positive link to the controls; you can come aboard now!" said the captain of the Shuttle, and Helen emerged from the airlock, and was pulled aboard the Shuttle. A number of packages were passed across, after which Kurt helped Yvonne Connors across, the _Gamma_ was battened down, and the Shuttle edged away from the _Gamma_ , leaving it under (Planet) surface control.

A few hours later, the Shuttle was touching down on the smooth surface of the launching table of Terranova. Helen finally took time to study the young crew of the Shuttle, all strangers, and thank them for their help.

As before, suited ground crew hitched up the Shuttle to a tractor, and pulled it through into a large airlock, and presently everyone was climbing out, into the bright day of the planet Terranova.

"You can de-suit right here, and change; Lily will help you. We have a simple decontamination procedure, not like the Ship!"

It involved walking through a tube in which a spray wetted them down slightly, after which they were dried off. Surface crew had taken over the packages they had brought with them, and the four of them emerged in a large hall, and there was a crowd waiting to greet them.

"Welcome to Terranova!" It was Melanie, extending an official greeting. Helen took the offered hand, and then they embraced. It was nothing at all like Helen had imagined; it was a formal greeting from the planetary leader. Melanie had aged, and looked even older than she had appeared on the video screens. "I know; I look terrible," she said, smiling for real, for the first time. She looked Helen over, and grudgingly admitted that she looked wonderful.

"I don't feel so great, but . . . I'm happy to be finally here," said Helen, her voice sounding rusty to her ears. Her ears were still blocked, and everything would sound odd for a few minutes. She looked around, and saw Athene, who came slowly forward, clearly feeling just as strange to greet her mother, as her mother felt to greet her.

To Helen's eyes, she looked perfect. Helen supposed that she must have looked pretty much like Athene, when Helen was in her late teens, but clothing fashions were very different, and Athene was just a little taller than her mother, but it felt wonderful to be in her arms. Neither Helen nor Athene could let go of the other, and they hugged and wept silently.

"I thought I'd never see you again," whispered Athene, the very thought in Helen's mind.

Over her shoulder, she could see Daisy's beloved face, wreathed in a smile, and Athene turned to allow them to greet each other, wiping away the tears on her face, just as Helen was doing.

"Oh, Helen, what a wonderful sight you are!" said Daisy, and they embraced. They had only embraced a very few times, that Helen could remember. Daisy, too, was grey, but she looked absolutely beautiful.

Daisy wanted to know how Helen was feeling, and when she heard that Helen was not feeling too well, her face got serious, and she said that whenever she was ready, they would give Helen a thorough checkup. If necessary, she said, a dialysis could be performed. Helen did not like that word; she did not realize that she had had that procedure several times before, but while she was unconscious.

Helen thought she recognized another smiling face, and it was Summer Levin.

"You don't look so bad!" was Summer's assessment. Helen had rarely hugged Summer, but this time they did, and it felt good. Helen remembered what it felt like, the sound of the young woman, and her unique fragrance; it all came back, and Helen felt thoroughly off-balance.

A little distance away, Helen saw Yvonne and Maddie greeting someone, and Helen realized that it was Jennifer. It had not quite clicked in her mind that the Connors women had someone on the planet as well. Jennifer soon turned to Helen with a smile, and opened her arms to her, and swept Helen into yet another hug. "We've been keeping track of your progress! It's so good to see you again!" she said. She, too, had become a lovely, confident adult, and Helen saw that she was more like her mother than any of the other clones. Jennifer was almost exactly like Helen imagined Sheila to have been at that age.

## The Treatment

Accommodations had already been arranged for the visitors, and over the next planetary day or two, they were settled in. Helen reacquainted herself with Athene. Athene had lived with Melanie and Daisy for years, but had recently taken an apartment by herself, but was still single. She was lonely, she told Helen, but was not eager to rush into a relationship. This was a contrast from Helen's own younger self; Helen had become attached at the young age of sixteen, and then proceeded to have a series of love affairs. She described her early life to Athene, who was highly amused.

Melanie and Daisy visited a few times, but Melanie was clearly busy with her responsibilities. Daisy continued to visit Helen daily, and took charge of Helen's treatment. Jennifer and Summer were the ones mainly involved with the engineering side of the process, and Maddie, Yvonne and Jennifer were soon working with tissue samples taken from Helen herself.

A week later, it was clear that something was wrong; some of the time, the microbes simply failed to do what they should; other times they did too much, and refused to stop the process. They were a different type of thing than what the message from Earth had described, because Terranovan and _Voyager_ science was too different from Earth science, and it was simply too much of a leap in technology to be able to put the plan together so quickly.

"Still," said Daisy, looking Helen over, "we have a number of new cases of diabetes here, but you look in a lot better shape than any of them."

"I do?"

Daisy nodded. "I think your physical condition was just better, to begin with, and you've had the benefit of the conventional medicine earlier in your treatment. We're just beginning to manufacture the new drugs for our own patients." She smiled suddenly, and Helen's heart lurched as it always did. Daisy saw it, and her smile widened. "Oh, Helen, what are we to do with you?"

Presently, Helen's condition was stabilized enough that she could take an interest in the Terranovan environment. Planetary food was vastly superior to Ship food, they all agreed, and soon all four travelers were fully recovered from the rigors of the journey. They all were determined to make themselves useful on the planet, and began to make connections with the citizens.

Something like an institute of music had already been organized, and the young Terranovan citizens were being taught music as part of the curriculum, and a number of semi-professional musicians gave a recital in honor of the new arrivals. The medical service was happy to have Yvonne and Maddie join their ranks, and Kurt was being useful developing new software.

Of course, they had to take a break from the biochemistry to take the visitors out to see the puppies, and the horse paddock, in which the newly-thawed out foals were running about. There was a large crowd of Dropouts gazing at the animals with great adoration, since the charms of the mammals was something shipboard folks were not acquainted with, despite numerous videos that documented them.

## What happens next?

Helen had worried about what she would do once she got to Terranova. One major unknown was what Athene would be like, how they would relate, what her expectations of Helen would be. What she found was that Athene was completely ready to renew her relationship with Helen. At first, she spent every free moment with Helen, describing her early years with Daisy and Melanie, which had been quite happy, her sorrow at being unable to be with Helen, and her unexpected sense of loss in being parted from Diane.

"She wanted to stay with you, even if you were frozen," said Athene, and then Helen realized that, while each of the two children had wound up with the 'wrong' parent, at least they had access to one, even if it was limited access on the part of Diane. But Helen, in her eagerness to see Athene, had left Diane alone, except for Alison and Sheila, who definitely loved the girl very much.

"What have I done?" asked Helen, in growing horror.

Athene was quick to comfort Helen, but she admitted that Diane was the big loser in the outcome. The Ship had nothing of Helen; the planet had all of her.

On the planet, Helen's little circle was now Summer, Athene, Daisy, and the three Connors girls. Jennifer was married to another physician, to whom Helen took a liking once they had been introduced. Jennifer even had two little children, two little boys, and they provided a lot of pleasant distraction to them in the evenings.

Maddie was a problem that Helen worried about, but once they had landed, Helen managed to keep herself completely out of Maddie's clutches. It wasn't that she didn't love the girl, but that she felt the child needed to find a partner closer to her own age. Kurt might have been a good choice, but Maddie intimidated him, and Maddie had never taken him seriously.

As the days went by, Helen began to observe, with some dismay, that Maddie and Athene were hitting it off very well. She had thought no one else had spotted it, but one evening Yvonne brought it up.

"Helen, I have a confession to make."

It turned out that, while Maddie was mostly a clone of Yvonne, they had incorporated a large number of genes from, of all people, Helen herself. Genetically, Maddie was the child of Helen and Yvonne, though Helen would not use that language with anyone, and Yvonne had not; it had been reported in mostly an objective tone.

Helen was aghast; the realization that she had had sex with a woman some of whose genes were derived from Helen herself made her acutely uncomfortable. But she eventually realized that the experiment was clearly successful, and, in fact, the result was a startlingly beautiful woman. But beauty was ultimately of secondary importance; as a _person_ , was Maddie a success? Should they reveal this information to Maddie and to Athene?

It was becoming evident that the two youngsters had been spending the nights together; there was a certain smugness in Maddie's expression that told Helen that she had been supplanted in Maddie's heart. Athene, for her part, was clearly in love for the first time, and one morning she told Helen that she and Maddie had found each other.

Helen had mixed feelings about it. It meant, obviously, that if Helen was to see grandchildren, the young couple would have to resort to cloning. It also meant that Helen had to give up all claims to Maddie. Though she had already done so, Helen was frustrated at finding herself without even the option of renewing that relationship.

The couple was just emerging from the room in Helen's apartment in which they had spent the night together, and Helen could hardly bear to look at them; they were radiating that shield that all young couples do, of pure togetherness that excluded the rest of the world. Well, thought Helen spitefully, it's no wonder they go together so well; they share some of the same genes, don't they? It's almost incestuous. None of her attitudes about family relationships seemed to make sense anymore.

Just then, the front door opened, and Yvonne stepped in, and they all turned to greet her. Helen felt her tension draining away; despite her seriousness, Yvonne was a comfortable person to be around.

"What's going on?" demanded Yvonne.

"Oh . . . nothing," said Maddie, leaning against the kitchen counter, with Athene pressed tight against her.

"You two look far too happy," grumbled Yvonne, and Athene's smile was almost painfully beautiful.

After they had shared breakfast, the young couple slipped out, leaving Helen and Yvonne together.

"I think you're going to get what you wanted," said Helen, sipping her tea.

"What do you mean?" asked Yvonne, blushing furiously.

"We Nordstrom women find you Connors irresistible," said Helen.

The End

# Author's Note:

I'm very much aware that this conclusion leaves many loose threads, and many needs unresolved. Despite the temptation to simply go about handing out happy endings to all the protagonists, I want to take my time and write out a sort of epilogue that accomplishes any resolutions _in an organic way_. (If what I mean by that isn't clear, go to

[ http://donotwaitforthemovie.blogspot.com/2016/04/  
authors-note-why-i-begin-writing-story.html](http://donotwaitforthemovie.blogspot.com/2016/04/authors-note-why-i-begin-writing-story.html)

where I had intended to explain all this sort of thing, but I might not have succeeded! Ha-ha).

If and when I write an epilogue, I will put up a new version of this story with the epilogue included, and it will be freely available to anyone who has already acquired _Music of the Stars_ via proper channels. _If you have not_ , I guess you'll have to contact me directly, and I can post the epilogue somewhere from whence you can get it for free.

K. H. B.

