“Something new and startling, not a drill?” asked small, mouse-like Ginny Chocolate, of the Food family. She spoke twenty Earth languages and claimed she understood the moms better than any of them. Ginny cradled a tabby in her arms. It watched Martin with beautiful jade eyes and meowed silently.
“A high-tech civ,” Martin said. “Search team has a presentation.” Ginny spun on her tummy axis and kicked from a conduit, flying ahead of him, towing the relaxed cat by its tail. She did not make much speed, deliberately choosing a low-traction ladder field, and the rest quickly caught up, dancing, bouncing, climbing, putting on overalls and stuffing other clothes into knapsacks.
“We’re the lucky ones, hm?” Hans Eagle asked him as they matched course in the first neck. Hans served as Christopher Robin, second in command. Martin had chosen Hans because the children responded well to his instructions. Hans was strong, well liked, and kept a reserve Martin found intriguing.
“We’ll see,” Martin said.
By the specified time, there were eighty in the schoolroom, two missing. Martin summoned faces quickly and sorted through names, then spoke into his wand, to connect with their wands and remind them of the summons: “William Arrow Feather, Erin Eire.” He had seen neither of them in the wormspaces. He felt a pang of guilt and wondered what William was doing, ignoring his wand summons; that was uncharacteristic.
Rosa was present, bulky, red hair in tangles, large arms and fists. She was almost as tall as Hans.
Theresa was there, as well, hiding in the middle ranks, short black hair and small, strong frame immediately drawing Martin’s eye. The sight of her made him feel hollow in his chest.
How long had it been since he last saw her? Barely seven hours… Yet she was discreet, expressionless but for a slight widening of the eyes when he looked directly at her. She did not show any sign of the passion they had shared.
Others in the crowd Martin hadn’t seen in weeks.
Each carried the brand of dead Earth in memory; all had seen Earth die, that hours-long agony of incandescence and orbiting debris. Some had been only four or five years old; their memories were expressed more often in nightmares than in conscious remembrance. Marty had been nine.
This was the Job and they all took it seriously.
Martin called Hakim forward. Hakim used his wand to display the group of three close stars and what information they had. He concluded with the analysis of planet deaths near the group.
“We have to make a decision to launch remotes,” Martin said. “We can gather a lot more information with a wide baseline. We also become a little more conspicuous. Our first decision is whether to take the risk now…”
“The moms should let us know what they think,” Ariel Hawthorn said from across the schoolroom. “We’re still not being told everything. We can’t make final decisions before we know…” Ariel Hawthorn did not appear to like Martin; Martin assumed she did not like any of the Lost Boys, but he knew very little about her sexual tastes. She was irritable and opinionated; she was also smart.
“We shouldn’t waste time on that now,” Martin said.
“If we’re going to make a decision that involves risk, we can’t afford to be wrong,” Ariel pursued.
Martin hid his exasperation. “Let’s not—”
“You’re only going to be Pan this watch,” Ariel said sharply. “The next Pan should have a say, as well.”
“If we make the judging on this watch, Martin will be Pan until we finish the Job,” Hans reminded her.
Ariel shot a withering look at Hans. “We should select a new Pan to lead us into the Job,” she said. “That should be our right.”
“That’s not procedure. We’re wasting time,” Hans said softly.
“Fuck you, Farley!” Ariel exploded.
“Out,” Martin said. “Need a Wendy to second the motion.”
“Second,” said Paola Birdsong, lifting large calm eyes.
“One hour in the wormspaces,” Martin said.
Ariel shrugged, stretched with a staccato popping of joints, and climbed out of the schoolroom.
“You’ll talk with her after, won’t you?” Paola asked softly, not pushing.
Martin did not answer for a moment, ashamed.
“She has to decide, too. If it’s a close vote, you’ll ask her for her opinion, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Martin said. He did not think it was going to be a close vote. They were all impatient; this was a strong suspect.
“You’ll work out your differences, won’t you?” Paola pursued. “Because you’re Pan now. You can’t be out with her. That cuts.”
“I’ll talk,” Martin said. He lifted the wand again. “We know enough to decide whether to release remotes. We can do the figuring ourselves. And I think we should all do it now.”
The math was complex and did not guarantee an absolute answer. The possibility of detection when they issued the remotes—very slight at this distance—had to be weighed against the probability that this group contained the star or stars they were looking for.
Martin closed his eyes and ran through the figures yet again, using the techniques the moms had taught him, harnessing their inborn ability to judge distances and speeds, algorithms normally not accessible to the intellect, but far more powerful than higher, conscious calculation. The children had decided to call the new techniques momerath, suggested by Lewis Carroll and, some claimed, short for
Martin blanked all thoughts and fell into contemplation of a convergence of spaces and planes, saddles and hills, balls rolling across territories and joining in colored pools.
What Martin visualized when he had finished his momerath, almost as clearly as if his wand projected it, was the group of three stars and a synoptic of the most important local stars. Systems that had been exploited by outside visitors flashed bright red; systems that had probably been explored, but not altered, flashed hot pink; systems showing no signs of external interference flashed green. Ships of the Law did not show up in the mental picture. They never did; the moms could not know where they were.
The children finished their momerath within minutes of each other. Jennifer Hyacinth and Giacomo Sicilia opened their eyes and glanced at Martin first. They were the sharpest at momerath, or any kinds of math and physics theory. They were followed by Stephanie Wing Feather, Harpal Timechaser, Cham Shark, Hans Eagle, and then the others. The last was Rosa Sequoia, but she did complete the work.
Five had difficulty and said, “Not clear.” That was normal; they would not participate in the voting.
Hans as Christopher Robin did the counting as each raised two hands or none. He made a quick recount, and everyone lowered their hands.
“Fifty-two aye, twenty-two nay, five outs, three not present,” Hans reported. “Pan calls it now.”
“This is our first decision,” Martin said. “I’ll ask the moms to release the remotes. If the stars still look suspect, our next decision will be whether to go in closer, whether to enter the systems…” Some children stretched and groaned. They saw a long, boring process, rather than quick action. “We have to be sure. If we go into a —”
“We know,” Paola Birdsong said. They knew it all by heart.
The occupants of this group of stars did not know about or subscribe to the Law.
“But for now, the decision is to release the remotes. That’s a start.”
Martin looked around the assembled faces in the schoolroom. All solemn; the impatience and irritation had been replaced by anticipation and barely hidden anxiety. They had been traveling for five and a half years. This was the first time they had actually made a decision, the first time the search team had come up with a likely prospect.
“This is no drill, Martin? You’re sure?” Ginny Chocolate asked with a quaver.
“No drill,” Martin confirmed.
“What do we do now?”
“We wait and we practice,” Hans said.
Most of the group raised both arms. Others sat in stunned silence.
