Kaisho giggled at that. You wouldn’t think an advanced human-Balrog synthesis could giggle. Festina stared at her in surprise for a moment, then said sternly, "Let’s get a grip, shall we? A rogue admiral is helping the recruiters!"

"Ah, dear Festina," Kaisho sighed, "always business, business, business." Her head suddenly cocked on an angle; when she spoke again, her voice had the sly smug tone of someone who’s realized something you haven’t. "Pity no one from Willow survived," she said. "They might have known which admiral ordered them to Troyen."

Festina looked back at her. "You have an idea? Or should I say, the Balrog has some brilliant alien insight?"

The moss on Kaisho’s legs flared brighter for a second, almost as if it was taking a bow. "Who were the Explorers on Willow?" Kaisho asked.

"Plebon and Olympia Mell," the admiral answered.

"Ever meet them?"

"I knew Plebon," Festina replied. "He was one of the Explorers marooned with me on Melaquin. After we got back, I made a point of spending time with him because he was a friend of my old partner Yarrun; they’d considered themselves kindred spirits because they both had the same…"

The admiral stopped, lowering her eyes as if she was suddenly embarrassed. Vaguely, she waved her hand under her chin. I had no idea what she meant but Kaisho did. She turned straight to me and said, "Among the bodies on Willow, did you see a man with a deformed jaw?"

I stared stupidly at her while my brain tried to catch up with the question. Festina was way ahead of me. She gawped at Kaisho, then whirled and grabbed my arm. "Edward, please… think back. Was there a man, an African man, very tall and dark, but missing the lower half of his face? If you saw it, you wouldn’t forget it. He had practically no jaw at all."

Still not quite understanding, I cast my mind back over the crumpled bodies in the lounge. "No," I said, "there wasn’t anyone with a funny jaw on the ship." Not in the lounge, not on the bridge, not in any possible hidey-hole. "I’m certain."

Festina let out a sigh of relief. "Hallelujah."

Kaisho held up her hands in a "What would you expect?" gesture. All smug and proud, she said, "The Explorer Corps vindicates itself again."

"Cryptic and mysterious and annoying humes," Zeeleepull grumped. "What, what, what this means?"

"Willow carried two Explorers," Festina answered, "and at least one of them wasn’t aboard when they headed back to Celestia."

"Probably both," Kaisho put in. "If Plebon stayed on Troyen, his partner would too."

"Why would they stay on Troyen?" I asked.

"Because Explorers are smart," Kaisho said. "Because they believed the queen was non-sentient. They knew the League would kill the queen and everyone who helped transport her. Plebon and Olympia wanted no part of it."

Zeeleepull sniffed, all disapproving. "Desertion is," he said. "If orders say, no cowarding out."

"Not true," Festina told him. "The Admiralty can give orders that skate to the edge of non-sentience, but if they ever go over the line, you don’t have to obey. In fact, official policy says you must not obey. Of course, the High Council really wants subordinates to shut up and do as they’re told; but the council has to keep the League of Peoples happy, and that means allowing folks to follow their consciences. NAVY PERSONNEL WILL AT ALL TIMES CONFORM TO THE STRICTEST STANDARDS OF SENTIENCE, EVEN WHEN THIS NECESSITATES DEFIANCE OF A DIRECT COMMAND. That’s right in the Outward Fleet’s charter — the League wouldn’t accept anything less. So if Plebon and Olympia believed the queen committed atrocities during the war, they had every right to say, ‘Count us out.’ " Festina paused. "I wonder if others from Willow’s crew stayed behind."

"No way to tell," Kaisho said. "Not with the ship missing and its records EMP’d."

I stared at her a second. How did Kaisho know that? She hadn’t showed up till after I’d told my story. But before I could say anything, Festina was talking — all excitement and glee. "Plebon and Olympia must know which admiral controlled Willow" she said. "Any good Explorer would demand to know who ordered such a lunatic mission. Hell, they’d break into the captain’s quarters if they had to, just to peek at the signature on the official dispatches."

"So," Kaisho murmured, "if we find Plebon and Olympia, we learn which admiral is backing the recruiters."

"Whereupon we raise a big stink with the High Council," Festina said, "condemning the bastard for stealing navy property. And for routing that property to a group who murdered poor Wiftim and tried to kill me. The council will not be pleased. The council will, in fact, howl for blood… if only because one of their own was playing fast and loose behind their backs. Next thing you know, they’ll squeeze the guilty party to spill his or her guts: demand name, rank, and serial number for every recruiter on Celestia. Anything else would be harboring a murderer, and not even the Admiralty would be stupid enough to do that."

Kaisho gave a whispery chuckle. "Knowing the High Council, they’ll make a show of arresting the recruiters personally. Demonstrate their good intentions by sending a Security force straight to the recruiters’ base. Once you back the council into a corner, they have a knack for turning a hundred eighty degrees, snatching the limelight, and taking credit for defending the weak."

"Just their style," Festina nodded. She made a face, like she’d seen it happen plenty of times before. "On the other hand, our first concern is stopping the recruiters. Doesn’t matter who gets their pictures in Mind Spurs Weekly."

"But, um," I said, "you have to get the name of the guilty admiral, right? And the only people who might know that are stuck on Troyen."

"True," Festina agreed. "You understand the situation admirably."

Her eyes glittered in the glow from Kaisho’s legs. Both women were looking at me now. Even though I couldn’t see Kaisho’s face, I could tell she was grinning. "Um," I said. "So I guess you’re going to Troyen?"

"Not just me," Festina answered. She put her hand on my arm. "I’ll need a native guide, won’t I?"

Kaisho laughed and laughed. The sound of it made me dizzy.

I don’t remember much from there on — all of a sudden my body got so tired I couldn’t think straight. It felt like Kaisho’s laughter was going all hyena-ish like the Laughing Larry, getting so loud it drowned out everything else in my head. I had time to think, It’s the venom again. Then things turned into a fuddled-up blur where time seemed to get the hiccups.

First I was lying facedown in the mud, while insects no bigger than pepper scuttled under my nose; then suddenly I was neck deep in water, with Zeeleepull and the admiral dragging me across the canal; then whoops, I was back where I started, in the hive’s dome, lying on a pallet beside the Queen Wisdom table. After that, I might have slept, or just passed out for an hour or two… but not the whole night. When I woke with a clearer head, it was still dark, and Counselor had snuggled in beside me.

Several of her legs draped lightly over my body. One of her upper hands was cupped against my cheek: six delicate fingers covered in soft walnut brown skin. The fingers were too long to be human, and they had no nails, but they didn’t look strange to me; they looked like home. Night after night in Verity’s palace, the queen would assign a maidservant to stay next to me as I slept, in case I might wake and want something.

"Are you well now, Teelu?" Counselor whispered.

There was no light in the room where we lay, but a dim glow came from next door — just enough for Counselor to watch me as I slept. Mandasars love to do that… I guess because they don’t sleep deeply themselves. They’re curious about it; the way humans go totally unconscious is kind of eerie to them, creepy but magical. Some of the maidservants back on Troyen actually took anaesthetics before sliding into bed beside me: they wanted to knock themselves out cold, to see what it was like, "sleeping together." Of course, they didn’t understand what that phrase means to humans… any more than Counselor understood what a man gets to feeling when he wakes up and there’s someone stroking his face. Mandasars never think about sex stuff at all, except during egg-heat. They know humans work differently, but Mandasars don’t realize how much… um… how often… how persistently certain urges keep poking their way into a Homo sapiens’ imagination.