Powers that Be

Chapter 17

Trailing behind Clodagh and Fiske, Yana heard the copter lift off. She paused, listening until the sound was barely audible, then turned back to follow Clodagh. As she started walking, she became aware that the atmosphere inside the cave had subtly altered and lightened: the whole cavern was flooding with a sense of release-the exhalation of the breath she had felt it holding since she had first arrived.

At the same time something splashed and she swiveled, but she could see nothing, and decided that the sound must have come from outside the cave. Backtracking, she peered out along the little stream that flowed into the cavern, through the low, dark opening. Something was rising from the stream out there. Sparkling droplets of water splashed around a long, silver-brown body energetically shaking itself dry as it rose from the water. Yana watched in fascination as the droplets flew, clearing a finely sculpted head with ears flat against the skull and bright eyes that seemed to search the entrance of the cave. Then the moisture was gone and the head seemed to, well, fluff out, she supposed, and the body lengthened into that of a man-a man who seemed to be wearing a fine silky pelt of hair. Or, perhaps, a gray wet suit. But as he walked closer to her, she saw with joyful surprise that the man was Scan, clad in nothing at all save volcanic ash, which he must have been trying to wash off in the spring before coming inside.

"You always travel that way?" she called out, not quite trusting what she thought she had seen and hoping that either he would explain sometime soon or she could somehow find a subtle way to ask.

He grinned down at her. "Not always, but it's very convenient if you know how." He looked down at himself. "Can get a little drafty once I'm out of my element, though."

The cave was littered with bits of uniform that had been discarded by survivors as not worth transporting. Scan rifled through them until he found a flight suit riddled with holes. He pulled it on, and it served as a social covering.

"Ashes as disguise and swimming as transport? Clever of you," she said, making a wild guess.

"More or less," he said, coming to stand very close to her and putting his hands on her shoulders.

She wasn't quite ready yet to be distracted by his touch, still bewildered and intrigued by the way he had appeared and by what she felt surely had to be her perfectly ridiculous perceptions of it. "You know - I was wondering about that raven that guided us here - I sort of had a sense of you then. You don't by any chance own a black wet suit and hang glider, do you?" she asked, lifting her brows in a query that practically demanded that he confide in her.

He remained amused and enigmatic. "And make myself small, as well? Gracious no, I couldn't do that. I don't go in for wings. I've a definite water affinity. But I do have friends in high places."

Yana decided to pursue that mystery later and concentrate on more urgent matters for the time being. She laid a hand on his arm and said, "Sean, I'd better brief you as to what's happening here. Torkel Fiske is ready to court-martial me for trying to defend

Petaybee and Clodagh's taken Torkel's father into the cavern-"

"I know, Yana, I know. And I'll explain as soon as there's time. Right now we'll do better to help Dr. Fiske and Clodagh."

His hand made a reassuring warm spot on the middle of her back as he guided her toward the passageway.

Yana became suddenly aware that the sound of the helicopter, which had grown faint by the time she had found Scan, was suddenly louder again. Instinctively she lengthened her stride. Sean heard it, too, and increased his pace to match hers until both were well within the passage.

The luminescence was brightening, and ahead of them she could hear Clodagh saying soothingly, "… someone who wants to meet you, Dr. Fiske."

The copter thud grew louder and louder, then suddenly began fading again, but from behind, Yana heard quick footsteps entering the cave.

"Come out with your hands up, Shongili, Maddock! I saw you rendezvous!" Torkel yelled. "And my father had better be unharmed or-"

"Are you with me?" Sean asked Yana quickly. She nodded, and they stood, one on either side of the passage, flush against the wall, while Torkel, forgetting all training in his agitation, barreled into their ambush. Yana disarmed him easily and caught him in a wristlock, while Sean, on the other side, did something that made Torkel sag against them. Other footsteps could be heard in the outer cave then, but Sean ignored them as he dragged Torkel onward. Yana stepped forward to help, and together they steered him through the passage and into the inner cave, where Clodagh, Bunny, Sinead, Nanook, and Dinah surrounded Dr. Fiske.

A warm mist was already rising from the rivulets running down the cavern walls and along the sides of the floor. It was scented with earth, ozone, plant life, both green and decaying, and the faintest hint of the perfume of exotic flowers. The mist trickled along the floor and twined up the knees of the people in the cavern, gently tugging them down.

The luminescence on the cavern walls danced with shadow play as if lit by firelight; the walls themselves seemed to pulse. The mist thickened and rolled up around them, veiling their faces: heavy, warm, scented mist; the distilled essence of the caves, the ground, the water, the air, moving in and out of their bodies with each breath they took.

Feet shuffled briefly behind Yana, and the disturbance in the air pressure told her that yet others had entered the room. They said nothing, and when she could bring herself to glance over her shoulder, she saw that the late arrivals were cloaked by the mist as well, their nostrils and mouths and lungs and hearts adding to the rhythm with which the cave pulsed.

Every sound was magnified, the trickle of the water rattling like rain on a roof or rustling leaves, a whispered accent to the measured throb in the cave.

Suddenly Torkel writhed in Yana's hands, and she felt him wake, heard his ragged breathing tear against the fabric of the thing that was happening here.

"No!" he cried. "No, stop! This is how they brainwash you. Dad, don't listen!"

Dr. Fiske's voice sounded muffled and distracted as he answered, " 'M fine. Don't be such a horse's ass."

And Clodagh murmured encouragingly, "You're both just fine, just fine."

From behind Yana, other hands joined hers on Torkel and other arms wrapped around him-in reassurance, not restraint.

"Don't fight, Captain," Diego's voice whispered. "Please don't fight. Listen. It doesn't mean to hurt you, it just wants you to listen."

"I'm here, Captain Fiske," Steve Margolies whispered in a less solicitous tone. "I'm a scientist, and so is your father. If this is all bull, we'll know. You're safe with us. Greene and the other pilot just joined us. You're safe."

"You're safe and well and here because Petaybee has much to tell the sons of those who first woke the planet to life," Clodagh said.

Torkel started to struggle again, and the whole cave suddenly vibrated with a thumping tremor that repeated over and over to the beat it had established from their breathing. The walls swirled with images, and Yana once more felt the jolt of contact running up her spine, exploding in her nervous system with blossoms of pure joy as she experienced a greater unity than she had ever known. A part of her heard Torkel gasp as he was infused with it, too, and then others became included. Contact was made with them now, each touching another; warm skin or warm cave, warm mist or warm breath, all were mingled in the heavy beat of the planet's great heart.

In the cold cave floor she felt the ice-and-rock shell that had once imprisoned that heart. Then a shock rocked through her, over and over again, the world's greatest orgasm, this world's great orgasm. She was so full of life and joy that her body could not contain it all and lovely things began growing from her skin, her hair, her eyes and mouth and ears and nose, her womb and anus and fingers and toes and hair, giving birth to thousands of new beauties every second, flowering things and furred things, winged things and hoofed things, soft dense creeping mosses and towering trees with undulating sweet-scented fronds. And through each thing, with no more than a whim of a try, she could speak and sing, act and dance, love and laugh and live. Even dying was a kind of life, and she felt that, too, with regret but no grief.

Lovely things sent shivers over her skin, caressed her surfaces, brought warm pleasure to her orifices, dove and swam through her blood, nourished her. And all was well and all was one and she was glad of life.

Then a little pain started-just a small one, near her heart. At first it only troubled her once in a while. It grew worse when some of the things that grew from her were removed, though she could bear even that at first. But it grew worse and worse as time passed and other, sharper, deeper pains shot through her, as if someone had suddenly plunged a knife into her. She seized up and screamed and tried to cry out through the things growing on her, and some heard and cried for her and some were scorched by the force of her cries. Panting, she waited for the pain to pass and it did, until the next time.

Then the first pain, the main pain, the central pain, a pain much like the start of the ecstatic release that had freed her from her ice and rock, intensified, deepened, drove through her until she could stand it no more. At last she lanced her own boil by applying more and more pressure, sending blood and the strength of her muscle and bone, igniting nerves until the area blew, and she lay bleeding, but relieved. The things that nourished her surface rushed over her and centered on the spot to console her, and she felt the consolation, the oneness, the comfort of releasing her pain through those who had first released her.

Gradually the images of a volcano erupting on her left breast dissolved into the image of the pain flowing through the pores of her skin and out. That image dissolved into one of herself accepting Petaybee's pain from within it and releasing it through herself, until she lay spent on the floor, Torkel Fiske sobbing on one side of her with Diego between them, Scan and Steve Margolies on the other side.

The mist had vanished now, and Dr. Fiske sat looking up at the luminous walls, tears coursing down his cheeks, his bad arm draped awkwardly across Clodagh's back and the other one around Bunny.

Slowly they rose and left the cavern. O'Shay and Greene, as last in, were first out to reboard the waiting helicopter. Yana hauled herself aboard and crowded in next to Giancarlo's stretcher, where Nanook lay stretched lengthwise next to the colonel, purring and doing the job usually reserved for his marmalade brethren. Then Sean squeezed in on her other side, and they made the journey in silence.

What was terraformed, Dr. Fiske, was a sentient entity which just happened to be a planet," Sean said when they were comfortably reassembled in Clodagh's house.

"Scientifically, I find that very hard to believe," Dr. Fiske said, sitting as erect as possible on Clodagh's bed.

Clodagh, meanwhile, was stirring up another batch of medicine for the abrasions and burns suffered by Torkel and Yana. Giancarlo had been delivered to the hospital at SpaceBase. O'Shay had taken off again, neglecting to mention to the receiving officer that he had several other passengers, passengers who were attempting to digest a great quantity of new information. He landed the copter at Kilcoole, and those who had been present for Petaybee's revelations disembarked.

Torkel was slowest to revive from the experience, remaining extremely quiet and contemplative when he did. But he also quietly and contemplatively used Steve Margolies's comm unit to order from the contingent of soldiers stationed in Kilcoole an armed guard around Clodagh's house.

He was confused, Yana thought, and she didn't much blame him. She was a little confused herself, and at the same time much more enlightened as to the nature of the bond between this planet and its people. She had, after all, directly experienced in microcosm everything the planet had experienced.

"Scientifically, there probably is no explanation," Sean said, calmly agreeing with Whittaker Fiske. "And I've spent most of my boyhood and all my adult years examining the pertinent sciences with little success and no… scientifically acceptable… answers. I just know that Petaybee works for us, and for itself, in a unique symbiosis."

"Yes, it could be a form of symbiosis, at that," Whittaker Fiske said, nodding as he absently stroked a marmalade cat. "A most remarkable one. Definitely unique. However, I would still very much like to have more details: Was your grandfather aware of the planet's sentience and reactions? Did he establish whether or not its sentience occurred during, or after the terraforming process? How did you become aware of its sentience, and most of all, what protocol is now involved? I don't believe that Intergal has ever encountered such a phenomenon in any system it has explored to date. I do, at least I think I do, understand now why our totally unprepared and scientifically oriented teams could not psychologically cope with their-shall I call it… psychic initiation to Petaybee's sentience? Poor Francisco Metaxos is a good scientist, but he has always been extremely didactic."

"He's better, by the way, Whit," Clodagh told the man. "Better all the time and now, I think, he's more accepting."

A curious, affectionate sympathy had grown up between Clodagh and Whittaker since the event in the cave. Dr. Fiske had held Clodagh's hand all the way back to the copter. The pair had sat together, staring out the copter window, now and then exchanging long searching looks. Yana would have liked to exchange similar searching looks with Scan-but not with a crowd of people around.

"Aisling will bring Frank over," Clodagh went on, "soon's they've finished feeding and grooming the curly-coats. Any chance of bringing Colonel Giancarlo to Kilcoole, too, when he's stable? Being contrary the way he is, he'd never have survived the cave in his weak condition, but strengthen him up a bit and introduce him to Petaybee gradual like, he might even come to understand a bit."

Whittaker nodded, though Yana thought Clodagh was being uncharacteristically and unrealistically charitable toward Giancarlo and far too hopeful about his adaptability. The man was as rigid as the company rulebook.

"I'll tell you what I can, Dr. Fiske," Scan said, leaning forward to plant his elbows on his knees. "And what I've learned about Petaybee. First, we've never tried to keep anyone deliberately in the dark about this, but as you can imagine, it's a little hard to explain and make anyone believe us. All we know is this: when your great-grandfather's terraforming process had been completed and the planet ready for occupation, a proper ecological mix was determined by the Intergal specialists."

Sean had washed off the last of the ash and was wearing pants and a gray cable-knit sweater borrowed from Sinead. With his silver eyes and silvery hair, he reminded Yana of the way she had seen him on the shores of the little stream when she had mistaken him for a seal. She ran her hand softly down his arm from elbow to wrist, and he captured the hand in his own and squeezed, as he continued speaking. "My grandfather, as the Intergal biogeneticist, was asked to make what biological changes were necessary to adapt animals who could function in this planet's harsh climate and be useful to inhabitants where machinery and technology would prove inadequate. He did so, supplying us with an ecological chain that includes plants, trees, grain, food beasts, and those that could be used in a variety of tasks, such as the sled dogs, curly-coats, moose, deer, the other small food and fur animals, birds, insects: all viable on this cold, snowbound planet. All of us here, the vegetation and we more movable creatures, were influenced by his work."

"But he went much further than he should have," Torkel said, less belligerently; more in dismay.

"Not deliberately. He was, like yourselves, a scientist, and he didn't reckon on the planet being a part of his equation. Once awakened, it had its own agenda and entered into the spirit of the changes-taking the ones Grandda made and improving on them now and then, when it felt these alterations were necessary. Those of us who have lived out our lives on Petaybee, like Lavelle, are more affected by those changes than the young people who volunteer for service off-planet. I have never left Petaybee. I know I never can." He smiled with great charm. "I don't wish to leave Petaybee. It has made me part of it, the way it is part of me."

Torkel shook his head, half denying, half agreeing. "That's not enough for me, Shongili. What happened to us in there? It wasn't brainwashing-not as I know it," he added, puzzled.

"The planet was telling you how it felt about what you've been doing to it," Scan said.

Torkel twitched, grimacing, seemingly unable yet to accept that explanation. "Well, I still don't understand how you got the planet to do what it's been doing over the past few days. Starting volcanoes, earthquakes, breaking up the rivers six weeks too soon…"

Scan shrugged. "I didn't get it to do anything, Fiske. It planned its own defense. I've done nothing but see that its messages are delivered."

"Which only you can interpret?"

Scan shook his head. "You and I had the same experience there in the cavern, Fiske. You can interpret it as well as I can, if you just stop trying to deny what you felt. You can't deny what you personally experienced, can you? If you had rejected it as completely as you're trying to, you'd be in the same shape as Frank Metaxos. All I did-all any of us did-was to try to protect you from your own stubborn idiocy and put the right people in the right place at the right time for Petaybee to deliver its own message. It did that in the cave."

"And what, exactly, was the message that we both received, as you understand it?" Whittaker Fiske asked, his face full of lively curiosity rather than challenge.

"The message is that Petaybee is a living and sentient entity, Dr. Fiske," Scan answered imperturbably. "It does not wish to have its skin blown open, its flesh dug and taken away, its substance reduced, its children hunted, harried, or removed against their will. It is pleased to have been awakened, and it is more than willing to share itself: including, I might add, some valuable processes, which can benefit you and your superiors, that you're not even aware exist on this planet."

"Like Clodagh's medicines," Yana chimed in. "I'd think the company would have a lot of use for a cough medicine that can actually heal lungs as badly damaged as mine were."

Torkel regarded her with surprise, then turned thoughtful while his father nodded sagely.

"Not to mention that boneset stuff," Dr. Fiske added, running his fingers across the hardened cast. "Simple things that have multiple applications and no side effects. Go on, Shongili."

"Petaybee has been particularly distressed," Sean said, "by the increase of traffic at the SpaceBase. The planet was able to buffer the area under SpaceBase to allow a certain amount of necessary comings and goings, but that amount has now exceeded the safety margin and must cease. Petaybee does not wish to have to feed and supply the numbers now massing in the SpaceBase, as these numbers would be a burden on its resources, especially this time of year, before the growing season."

"It was glad to see that some of us who left here as kids have come home, at least to visit, though," John Greene said. He and O'Shay had been wolfing down a casserole Aisling brought over earlier. "I was given a real welcome in the cave. Didn't know it remembered me."

"You and O'Shay have a lot to answer for, Captain," Torkel said. "Like why you didn't place everyone under arrest when you saw that we were being detained in the cavern."

O'Shay shrugged. "Like the man says, Cap'n, we're native-born. We got more sense than to interfere when a latchkay's starting."

"You're natives?" Torkel stared at them. "No wonder I didn't get the support I required." He rounded on Sean then with a resurgence of his old belligerence. "Did you arrange that, too, Shongili?"

Sean shrugged. "You give me more credit than I deserve. The presence of Captains Greene and O'Shay is pure serendipity, Fiske. No harm's come to you, so I don't see that the personnel involved matters."

"I don't put anything past you, Shongili," Torkel said, and striding to the door, he opened it and beckoned a guard inside. "I want one of those portable comm links from headquarters. Bring it here on the double. We'll just check out a thing or two about the disposition of Petaybeans on this project."

The guard snapped a salute, and Yana thought she saw a little smile playing at the edges of his mouth. Yana wondered about that, and began to suspect what Torkel would find about the disposition and composition of Intergal troops currently on duty in Petaybee. She noticed that Steve Margolies was looking exceedingly thoughtful: he kept glancing from Torkel to Sean to Dr. Fiske, but whatever was worrying him he kept to himself.

"You keep speaking of these adaptations, son," Dr. Fiske said to Sean, with an air of getting back to important matters. "Just what do they consist of?"

"The most important," Sean said, his voice filled with the sort of excitement that the other two scientists, more than anyone else in the room, were best equipped to understand and share, "is how Petaybee-not I or my grandfather-improved, beyond their previous capabilities, the perceptions of some of the more intelligent species."

"Like the pussycats here with Frank?" Steve Margolies asked.

"Yes, and like this," Scan said, and lifted his hand and closed his eyes. In a moment there was a scratching at the window and a whining at the door. One of the guards opened the door to admit Dinah, who was leading a weakly smiling Francisco Metaxos, followed by Aisling. Clodagh opened the window to admit Nanook, who jumped down across the sill in one fluid motion, walked calmly over to Whittaker Fiske, put one saucer-sized paw on the man's uninjured arm, and said "Meh," quite clearly.

"My word!" Dr. Fiske leaned away, staring at the cat. "You asked it to come and do this?"

Scan nodded while Nanook gave a burst of purr, marched to Torkel, and repeated the performance.

Torkel started to shove Nanook away but stopped, giving Sean a puzzled look. "It's telling me that Giancarlo is resting well, thanks to it."

"Him," Sean said. "Nanook is male. And he likes his ears scratched. Most of the felines here have the ability to soothe troubled, or sick, minds. They'll carry messages, lead people across dangerous terrain, and hunt when that's necessary."

Dinah, tongue lolling from her open mouth, waited until Metaxos was safely deposited in a chair between Diego and Steve, then pranced up to Fiske. She gave a bit of a whine before she pushed her nose at his arm and held it there a moment.

"Talking cats and dogs?" Dr. Fiske asked, eyes round with amazement.

"Telepathic, actually," Sean said. "When they choose to be. Dinah, as a lead dog, had no trouble communicating about trail conditions and finding her way across frozen wastes. She had bonded most effectively with Lavelle, the woman who died when

Captain Fiske and Colonel Giancarlo had her removed from Petaybee. Nanook has a close bond with me, but is actually a pretty |j| social creature."

"And Clodagh's cats-" Yana began, but Clodagh shot her a look and she subsided. No need to tell the offworlders everything. Not more than they needed to convince them. Not just yet. So Yana made no mention about unicorned curly stallions, intelligent seals, and trained ravens. Scan's hand dropped to the back of her neck and kneaded it gently as he watched the reaction of the Fiskes and Margolies.

"Telepathic sled dogs and felines…" Dr. Fiske said, shaking his head.

'Tour granddad was one busy guy." Torkel snorted. Nanook dug his claws into Torkel's leg, ever so slightly. "Ouch!"

"Grandfather developed several types of large felines and canines suitable to this icy climate, but, as I said, Petaybee improved on his work many times over the years. Give Petaybee a chance, and it will improve on anything you ask it to. Isn't that much better than blasting the planet apart for mere minerals and ores which the company can surely find on lifeless asteroids and planets?"

Dr. Fiske sighed. "Ah, now I suppose we come to the crux of all this. If I understood it correctly, Petaybee is extremely grateful for its life, but not grateful enough to endure our resource development plans? That's why the teams have disappeared or been killed?"

Frank Metaxos cleared his throat and said in a rusty voice, "It wasn't intentional, Whit. I-freaked out, as Diego would say, what with the blizzard followed by that intense psychical input. I understand now that what I sensed in the cave was only this same explanation. And-incredible as it seems-something of an apology. Perhaps Petaybee could adjust its climate a bit for those of us who aren't used to such extreme conditions."

"Actually, Petaybee's extremely hospitable, if you're willing to take the hospitality on its own terms," Clodagh told him. To Dr. Fiske she added, "Petaybee offers you more than you could ever take from it by force. This doesn't have to be a fight."

"That's right," Yana said, leaning forward and talking with all the persuasion at her command. "The company's just been trying to develop the wrong things so far. This planet offers absolutely unique opportunities to study its inner life-providing you can find some extremely dedicated people able for the challenge. And that's the resource the company most needs to develop-the people."

"I suppose we could send scientists down to instruct them in the proper procedure," Dr. Fiske said slowly.

"You send them," Clodagh said, nodding. "We'll teach proper procedure. But you'll see, it will work."

"We'll send equipment-comm units, computer linkups."

"Some maybe," Clodagh said. "But not too many. Too noisy. Petaybee wouldn't like it. Just send a couple of teachers who don't mind the cold and can teach us reading and writing. That's quieter."

Just then the guard returned with the comm link Torkel had sent for. Torkel accepted the equipment and set it on his knees.

"Now then, we'll see what's going on here," he said. "Computer, I want files on O'Shay…"

"Richard Arnaluk, sir," O'Shay helpfully provided.

"And Greene…"

"John Kevin Intiak Greene the Third, sir," Greene told him. "My crew members were Corporal Winona Sorenson, deceased, Specialist Fourth Class Ingunuk J. Keelaghan, deceased, Lieutenant Michael Huyukchuk, wounded in action-"

"Wait a minute," Torkel said. "These names sound Petay-bean."

O'Shay shrugged."They are-native-born or Petaybean stock. Same's true, I think, for most of the replacement troops shipped down with me. And the survivors we picked up near the volcano."

"Computer, access personnel list for troops transferred to planet Petaybee, code name Operation Mop-Up. Cross-reference by planet of origin or descent and provide statistical data of composition of total numbers."

After a moment of frantically scanning the screen, Torkel looked up suspiciously at Scan. "This can't be right. Unless your planet can manipulate troop movements by remote control." "Why? What does it say?"

"Eighty-eight percent of the troops deployed here for Mop-Up are of Petaybean origin."

Scan gave a low whistle. "Imagine that. I didn't know we'd sent so many people away. Did you, Clodagh?" "I sure didn't."

"Computer, audio, please. Explain how such a large percentage of personnel assigned to Operation Mop-Up are of local origin."

"This system cross-indexed physical and psychological requirements necessary for ground duty on an arctic-type planet. The personnel selected were the best qualified to function at appropriate levels on such a planet."

"Torkel," Yana said, leaning forward and slightly to the side to watch the screen. "While we're on the subject of the quantity of Petaybean troops involved, why don't you check statistical data concerning the service records of those with Petaybee as planet of origin as compared to those of the corps as a whole?"

"Computer?" Torkel asked, and gave it the data request.

"Petaybean personnel on the average receive seventy-five percent more commendations, sixty percent more bonuses, and eighty-nine percent more decorations than troops of other places of origin. However, they are promoted through the ranks ten point five times slower than other personnel, and only twenty-one point eight-nine-five percent of Petaybeans become senior officers.

Yana lifted her eyebrows at Torkel and permitted herself a small, smug smile. "See? These people are definitely worthwhile to the company, and definitely worth developing."

Torkel raised an eyebrow back at her. "As long as they're never removed from the planet to do what they're worth developing for?"

Sean broke in. "Many of our people are perfectly happy to serve the company and see the universe. You just have to recruit them early."

"And I think if the company worked with Petaybeans on the research, compensatory devices could be used to offset the incompatibility between Petaybean adaptive characteristics and space travel," Yana said. "That is what I was trying to tell you before."

Torkel shut down the comm link with a snap, and Sean grinned broadly.

"It's okay, son," Dr. Fiske told Torkel.

But Torkel shook his head uneasily. "It's not okay, Dad. We're in an intolerable situation, disadvantaged. There're not only more of them, they're the company's best troops but, being here, their loyalty is compromised. We're at their mercy."

"Fortunately for you, Captain," Clodagh said, handing him a cup of hot drink and a hunk of bread, "we're extremely merciful around here. Sprinkle a little of this on your bread. You'll see how tasty it is." She passed over an herb jar and, unusually compliant, Torkel shook it over his bread.

Dr. Fiske smiled at his son as one of the marmalade cats jumped into Torkel's lap and began purring. For a moment, Torkel stiffened, wavering briefly between rejection and acceptance. He took a sip of the drink and a bite of the bread. After several more sips and bites, he gave a deep resigned sigh and finally relaxed, leaning back in his chair, the cat firmly in charge.

"Look here," O'Shay began tentatively, appealing to Clodagh, "if there're that many Petaybeans come home to roost, d'you think we could have a latchkay to celebrate?"

"The very thing," Aisling agreed happily.

"Now that," Scan said, "is one of the best ideas I've heard in days. It would undoubtedly settle a lot of qualms and answer some of the questions you haven't thought of yet, Dr. Fiske, Steve."

"Well," Yana said, rising, "since confusion has died down to mere chaos, I'd really appreciate a decent bath and change of clothes." She looked askance at the riddled remainder of her shirt.

"I'm not exactly as clean as I'd like to be either," Scan said. Also rising, he took Yana by the arm and began leading her to the door. Then he stopped. "You wouldn't mind dismissing that guard now, would you, Captain Fiske?"

"I will," said Whittaker Fiske, rising and doing exactly that.

Yana could not believe the relief that washed over her as she and Sean stepped out into the fresh air. The whilom guard had dispersed like snowmelt on a hot day. She inhaled, half expecting the previous days' exertions to result in a paroxysm of coughing.

"You won't have that trouble ever again," Sean said as he guided her toward the path to the hot springs.

"Wait, I'll need clothes," she said, half towing him in the direction of her house.

"There's always something left about at the springs," he said, and pulled her back to his side, grinning with a boyishness that surprised her.

Laughing, she let herself be held. "Is it wrong of me to want to wash some of Petaybee off?" She asked, buoyant with relief and with his presence.

"You can never wash Petaybee off completely, Yanaba Mad-dock. Not now! You're stuck with us, love." And then he threw back his head and gave an odd call.

Two curly-coats broke out of a nearby copse and trotted up to them.

"Local transport," Scan said. When the curlies stopped beside them, he lifted Yana to the back of one before he vaulted astride the other.

"You just called and they came?" Yana asked, bubbling with laughter, as she laced her fingers tightly into the mane. She knew little about riding, but she felt no fear.

"Sure thing," Scan said, grinning like a fool. "Let's go!"

To her surprise and delight, Yana found the curly-coat's rocking gait to be extremely comfortable, its fur soft on bare skin. She tried not to see how fast the terrain sped by as they went hell-for-leather down the forest track to the hot springs.

They reached their destination in moments, sliding off the mounts, who then wandered away as amiably as they had come. Sean was discarding his clothing and stood before her, sleek, faintly silvery-tan, waiting for her to shuck off the tatters she wore. Then she held out her arms toward him.

Smiling with luminosity to his silver eyes that made her breathless, he enfolded her in his arms, pressing her head into his chest so that she could hear the beating of his heart.

"You've heard what Petaybee had to say. Now hear what I have to say to you, Yanaba Maddock." He tipped her head back to look at him. "You are courage, you are beauty, you are honor, you are strong and kind. You are also loved. By more than I." He bent to kiss first one eye and then the other, then her forehead. "Petaybee healed you because it had need of you. I have my own need of you, and of the child you carry for both of us." He touched her breast then, gently but as if in benediction.

"Child?" She tried to struggle free, appalled and aching with hurt and disappointment. If he wanted a mother for his children, he would have to find someone else and she couldn't bear that thought. "Sean, I'm past all that. It may have escaped your notice, but a person doesn't become a senior company officer until middle age. My body is just not-"

"Well, love, as long as we're talking about what bodies are and are not, I think you should be aware of a thing or two about mine. So much has happened, I didn't want to spring it on you all at once, but back in the cavern, when we were all joined with Petaybee, I knew…"

"Knew what? Sean? Scan!"

But he dove into the water, and as it sluiced over his skin, instead of the gray-brown ashy color subsiding, it deepened, blurring his skin so that she felt she was looking at him through mist. Sean rolled himself into a ball, dove under the water, and when he surfaced again, his silver-brown hair covered not just his scalp but his face-and his form had changed!

Before she could say anything, the seal who was Sean climbed back out, playfully flipped her with the water on his sleek hide, and unfolded once more into her lover.

She took one involuntary step backward, then stepped toward him. "What-exactly-happened there?"

"My grandfather did, as Torkel suggested, go a little far. Actually, a lot far. There are some special notes in his personal diaries, which I have hidden in a safe place. He was fascinated by old Native American and Celtic tales of men who could change their shapes to protect themselves and suit their environment-of course, these were magical tales, but he always maintained they were just an extreme form of adaptation. Of course, he wasn't supposed to experiment on people at all-he didn't realize at the time that the planet was already producing substantial adaptive alterations in us-but he did do a bit of manipulation on himself that has carried down in my chromosomes, so that I, at least, adapt-er, quite a lot more drastically-than others on the planet. I 'adapt' or actually, in most ways, transform, at times into the marine animal most suited for this climate. I'm what they call in the old Celtic folklore a selkie; a man on land, a seal in the sea, or in my case, in the water."

"And your sister?" Yana asked. "Does she transform, too? I wondered why she bit my head off when I mentioned seal hunting."

He shook his head. "Not that I know of, and I think she would have told me. She's the only one who's actually seen me change, except for you, though Clodagh knows. As you saw, the seal shape can be very useful when it's necessary to navigate the underground riverine network." He gave her a half-uncertain, half-rakish smile. "Clodagh and Sinead even seem to feel it makes me one of the more versatile individuals on the planet. But the woman whose opinion on the subject matters the most to me is you and-I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it, which is why I hesitated to make love to you the first time we came here, although I wanted to very badly. I meant to tell you all of this before we made love after the latchkay but…"

She laid her hand on his cheek, and he caught it and held it as if she were throwing him a lifeline. He took another deep, ragged breath. Obviously confiding this secret to her scared him as none of the dangers they had braved together had done.

"I-hope-that after what you've seen, you can see that it's this dual nature of mine that gives me my particular special bond with Petaybee. And that because of it, when we were all joined with the planet, I sensed that within our common union there was an extra person present, the child you carry. Our child."

"But I can't have a child," she said, still trying to absorb his astonishing revelation. A little dizzy with all the changes taking place, she leaned against his water-slick body, her cheek damp against his shoulder. "I can't."

"You can and are having our child," Sean said in such a fiercely tender voice that she melted against him. "Petaybee healed that part of you, too, because our children will be even closer to it than most. The planet wants your children-and mine." He turned her in his arms, and again she saw the anxiety-no, fear- cloud his silver eyes. "Or do you not want mine?"

Yana gulped. "I think…" she began unsteadily; then she cleared her throat so what she could manage to say was audible. "I think that first 1 need a bath. After that, anything you want, I want, too!"

"Then you don't mind?"

"Being pregnant? No, I thought I'd never get the chance."

Relief mingled with the anxiety in his face now. "Then you do want the baby? You don't mind that I sometimes… change into a seal?"

She searched his face, so strong and full of integrity, intelligence, and humor. She thought of their lovemaking and his strength and kindness through everything they had endured together. She shook her head slowly, rather amazed to find that in the face of all of that-in the face of her love-she had damn few fears, and even fewer doubts. She put her arms on his shoulders, looked into his face with a quizzical little smile, and gave a small shrug of nonchalance.

"A seal? A man? Whatever," she said. "Nobody's perfect."