The admiral nodded. "That's partly why this expedition is being undertaken as a military operation. There's also the fact that we don't know the cycler's origin. We don't want to alert the rebels to this find, lest they stumble on the homeworld first."

"Yes, I understand," said Herat.

"Then, welcome aboard," said the admiral. "We leave immediately for Chandaka. Make yourselves at home."

"W HAT JUSTHAPPENED?" asked Michael later, as he and Dr. Herat settled down in the professor's quarters for tea.

"As they used to say, I think we've fallen down the rabbit hole," said Dr. Herat. "My head's still spinning. To think that I had given up hope! And committed the fact to permanent record. Now this cycler comes along." He shook his head and sipped pensively at his tea. "A cycler! Who would have thought they'd arrive in a cycler?"

"That's not what disturbs me," said Michael. He waited until Dr. Herat's eyes focussed on him. The professor raised a polite eyebrow. "Who's in charge of this expedition?" asked Michael. "It's certainly not the Panspermia Institute."

"What do you mean?"

Michael waved a hand. "This. We're on a military ship, commanded by a rear admiral— even if he was once a colleague of yours, he's military now. Sir, have you tried to send any mail or voicemail since we boarded?"

"No…"

"I can't get an outside link. Something about galactic security. We should be talking to the Institute about this find, but I can't get to them. And I checked the credentials of this Dr. Ophir and the others against our local database. None of them are listed as members or affiliates of the Institute."

"What are you saying?"

"He was at the Institute when you were. How well do you know him?"

Herat sighed. "Not well. There were a lot of us, back in the old days. Let me think…" He frowned at the wall. "Crisler was trained as an evolutionary technologist, I believe. Studied how different technologies are selected for in different species. He published some good papers, if I recall. Which means he understands the issues involved in a find like this one. That could make him unique in the R.E. military." He looked at Michael. "You know, this expedition could well be his initiative."

Michael nodded. "So why did he leave the Institute?"

"Don't know. Could be he became disillusioned, like a lot of them did. I don't remember when he left." He sighed and stretched. "Well, it's late. Could you try to track down some wine? I'd love a glass before bed. Got to go over the records about the cycler."

"I'll see what I can do." Michael turned to go.

"Bequith?" Herat sounded puzzled. Michael looked back from the doorway.

"Something else is bothering you, isn't it?" said the professor.

Michael hesitated, then stepped back into the room. "Actually, yes," he said.

Dr. Herat was examining him as if he were a new specimen. "Do you know what happened to me during those two years?"

Herat frowned. "Your father told me you were in seminary school."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No." Dr. Herat looked nonplussed. "I always assumed… That is, Kimpurushans are known to be devout. And you've always shown yourself to be."

Michael sighed. "Another boy died because of me. I was in the seminary because the alternative was jail, both for me and my father."

Dr. Herat reached for his tea cup, frowning. "What happened?"

"The rebellion. It came to Kimpurusha, I don't know if you knew that. I was a student at the Polytechnic, studying xenology, and… I got involved with a rebel cell at the school. I was a courier. I got caught, because my cell commander betrayed us. People got arrested because my message was intercepted and one of my friends… was killed. I was sent home with a tracking wristband on. This was four months after your first visit."

Surprise was written eloquently on Herat's face; he said nothing.

"I hated what the Rights Economy was doing to our world. But while I was under house arrest I realized that the rebels were just as much a product of the R.E. as the other aspects of it that I hated. I decided that fighting the R.E. would just drag me further and further away from what Kimpurusha had once been. If I wanted to protect my world, the best way would be to perpetuate the values that made us what we were. Those were the values of Permanence. So I went into the NeoShinto seminary."

"You never told me any of this."

"I buried it. I did finish my xenology degree, and when you came the second time I saw a chance to get away from the poisonous atmosphere that had taken over at home. Rigorous discipline was my way to salvation. Besides, I came to admire you and the whole Panspermia project— once I learned to separate it from the Rights Economy."

"And we all admired your critical mind," said Dr. Herat thoughtfully. "They don't teach your skills anywhere in the R.E. — geneaological philosophical analysis and differential deconstruction. You can look at a scientific paper and find the flaws in less than a minute." He laughed. "You know most of the younger academics in the Institute hate you? They call you the Voice of Doom."

"Yes, I know, I'm your secret weapon; you've said that before." Michael poured more tea for the professor, a reflex of Service. "What I'm saying is that entering your employ wasn't the adventure for me that I think you've always thought it was. I went with you in order to survive and to try to find some peace for myself."

"Oh."

"Service was the glue I needed to keep myself together."

"I see. And now that glue is coming unstuck?"

Michael smiled at the overextended metaphor. "Maybe. Yes. Service is no longer enough."

Herat sipped at his tea, then put it down. "It's cold." They sat in silence for a while, then the professor cleared his throat. "So you won't be coming with us on this trip?"

It had been said; Michael sighed, and took the teacup from Herat.

"I don't know," he said. "I feel that I'm still searching for something, but I don't know anymore if I can find it out there." He gestured at space, invisible beyond the metal walls.

Herat sat musing for a while, then smiled wryly. "All that may be true," he said. "The one thing I do know, Bequith, is that in order to find something, you first have to know what you're looking for."

Michael had no answer to that.

I T TOOK SEVERAL weeks to get to Chandaka, even going at the several thousand c that the Spirit of Luna could muster. Each FTL jump took them about a hundred light-years, but it took time to maneuver the ship close to a star to initiate the next jump. There was enough time to thoroughly study the meager findings about the cycler, enough time for Michael to insinuate himself into the confidences of several crewmen and enough time to worry. The rebels were indeed on the march; they had more ships and guns than ever, defying all the predictions of the government. The rebel economy was far more efficient than the Rights Economy, Michael knew, simply because the rebels didn't pay a royalty for every single transaction they made. They were fighting against the crushing weight of the Rights Economy and Michael and most people he talked to admired that idealism. But nobody thought they could win.

The rebels were Crisler's explanation for the tight security. Under pressure from Herat he did produce a document from the Panspermia Institute releasing the professor into military contract. They still weren't allowed to contact the Institute and when pressed Crisler admitted that the Institute hadn't been told the nature of the find.

"Come on, professor," Crisler had said after Herat harangued him for an hour about it. "You don't seriously think that something of this magnitude is going to just bypass the sole government organization set up to deal with it? It'll all fall into your people's lap eventually. And you'll get the credit. Hell, I'll even sign a paper saying we shanghaied you if you like. Meanwhile, this is a military matter."