"I'll talk to her about it," Jane said. "I'll try to make her understand."

"Thanks," I said.

"How are you?" Mom asked.

"I'm terrified," I said. "I'm scared I'll never see you or Dad or Gretchen again. I'm scared I'm going to screw this up. I'm scared that even if I don't screw this up it won't matter. I feel like I'm going to pass out, and I've felt that way since this thing landed."

Jane gave me a hug and then looked to my neck, puzzled. "You're not taking your jade elephant pendant?" she said.

"Oh," I said. "It's a long story. Tell Gretchen I said for her to tell it to you. You need to know about it anyway."

"Did you lose it?" Jane asked.

"It's not lost," I said. "It's just not with me anymore."

"Oh," Jane said.

"I don't need it anymore," I said. "I know who in this world loves me, and has loved me."

"Good," Jane said. "What I was going to tell you is that as well as remembering who loves you, you should remember who you are. And everything about who you are. And everything about what you are."

"What I am," I said, and smirked. "It's because of what I am that I'm leaving. What I am has been more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me."

"That doesn't surprise me," Jane said. "I have to tell you, Zoë, that there have been times when I have felt sorry for you. So much of your life has been completely out of your control. You've lived your life under the gaze of an entire race of people, and they have made their demands on you right from the beginning. I'm always amazed you've stayed sane through all of it."

"Well, you know," I said. "Good parents help."

"Thank you," Jane said. "We tried to keep your life as normal as possible. And I think we've raised you well enough that I can tell you this and have you understand it: What you are has made demands of you all your life. Now it's time to demand something back. Do you understand?"

"I'm not sure," I said.

"Who you are has always had to make room for what you are," Jane said. "You know that."

I nodded. It had.

"Part of that was because you were young, and what you are is so much larger than who you are," Jane said. "You can't expect a normal eight-year-old or even a fourteen-year-old to understand what it means to be something like what you are. But you're old enough now to understand it. To get an appreciation for it. To know how you can use it, for something besides trying to stay up late."

I smiled, amazed that Jane remembered me trying to use the treaty to stay up past my bedtime.

"I've watched you in the last year," Jane said. "I've seen how you interact with Hickory and Dickory. They've imposed a lot on you because of what you are. All that training and practicing. But you've also started asking more of them. All those documents you've had them give you."

"I didn't know you knew about that," I said.

"I was an information officer," Jane said. "This sort of thing is my job. My point is that you've become more willing to use that power. You are finally taking control of your life. What you are is starting to make room for who you are."

"It's a start," I said.

"Keep going," Jane said. "We need who you are, Zoë. We need you to take what you are—every part of what you are—and use it to save us. To save Roanoke. And to come back to us."

"How do I do it?" I asked.

Jane smiled. "Like I said: Demand something back," she said.

"That's unhelpfully vague," I said.

"Perhaps," Jane said, and then kissed me on the cheek. "Or maybe I just have faith that you're smart enough to figure it out on your own."

Mom got a hug for that.

Ten minutes later I was fifteen klicks above Roanoke and climbing, heading for an Obin transport, thinking about what Jane had said.

"You will find that our Obin ships travel far more quickly than your Colonial Union ships," Hickory said.

"Is that right," I said. I wandered over to where Hickory and Dickory had placed my luggage and picked out one of the suitcases.

"Yes," Hickory said. "Far more efficient engines and better artificial gravity management. We will reach skip distance from Roanoke in a little under two days. It would take one of your ships five or six days to reach the same distance."

"Good," I said. "The sooner we get to General Gau the better." I unzipped the suitcase.

"This is a very exciting moment for us," Hickory said. "This is the first time since you have lived with Major Perry and Lieutenant Sagan that you will meet other Obin in person."

"But they know all about me," I said.

"Yes," Hickory said. "The recordings of the last year have made their way to all Obin, both in unedited and digest form. The unedited versions will take time to process."

"I'll bet," I said. "Here we are." I found what I was looking for: the stone knife, given to me by my werewolf. I had packed it quickly, when no one was looking. I was just making sure that I didn't imagine packing it.

"You brought your stone knife," Hickory said.

"I did," I said. "I have plans for it."

"What plans?" Hickory asked.

"I'll tell you later," I said. "But tell me, Hickory," I said. "This ship we're going to. Is there anyone important on it?"

"Yes," Hickory said. "Because it is the first time that you have been in the presence of other Obin since you were a child, one of the members of Obin's governing council will be there to greet you. It very much wants to meet with you."

"Good," I said, and glanced at the knife. "I very much want to meet with it, too."

I think I actually made Hickory nervous right then.

"Demand something back," I said to myself as I waited for the Obin council member to greet me in my state-room. "Demand something back. Demand something back."

I'm definitely going to throw up, I thought.

You can't throw up, I answered myself. You haven't figured out the plumbing yet. You don't know what to throw up into.

That at least was true. The Obin don't excrete or take care of their personal hygiene the same way humans do, and they don't have the same issues with modesty that we do when they're with others of their own race. In the corner of my stateroom was an interesting array of holes and spigots that looked like something that you would probably use for bathroom purposes. But I had no idea what was what. I didn't want to use the thing that I thought was the sink, only to find out later it was supposed to be the toilet. Drinking from the toilet was fine for Babar, but I like to think I have higher standards.

This was definitely going to be an issue in another hour or two. I would have to ask Hickory or Dickory about it.

They weren't with me because I asked to be taken directly to my stateroom when we took off and then asked to be alone for an hour, at which point I wanted to see the council member. I think that by doing that, I messed up some sort of ceremonial welcome from the crew of the Obin transport (called Obin Transport 8532, in typical and boring Obin efficiency), but I didn't let that bother me. It did have the effect I was going for at the moment: I had decided I was going to be a little bit difficult. Being a little bit difficult was going to make it easier, I hoped, to do what I needed to do next. Which was to try to save Roanoke.

My dad had his own plan to do that, and I was going to help him with it. But I was thinking up a plan of my own. All it needed me to do was to demand something back.

Something really, really, really big.

Oh, well, my brain said. If this doesn't work at least you can ask this council guy where you're supposed to pee. Yes, well, that would be something.

There was a knock on my stateroom door, and the door then slid open. There was no lock on the door because Obin among themselves didn't have much of a concept of privacy (no signal on the door, either, for the same reason). Three Obin entered the room: Hickory and Dickory, and a third Obin who was new to me.