"It's swallowing itself," he said. Herat grunted in response.

"Explain, Bequith."

"This looks more defensive than aggressive, Admiral. Of course, we can't see what's going on underneath, but we were in that situation before."

He watched as the oily blackness ate away the letters of the Lasa writing. Soon the entire paragraph was gone and the black marched on to meet itself on the opposite side of the sphere.

A new voice cut in— one of Crisler's staff, calling from the Banshee. "Sir, the surface you see is actually moving five centimeters above the actual hull. It's a very thin layer of ferrofluid, supported from below by some pretty impressive magnetic gymnastics. But a picosecond blast from the main laser will open a three-meter hole in that stuff. We can do it at any time."

"Ready to go in, sir," said Barendts.

"Hang on there," snapped Herat. "If it's all that thin, it's obviously no threat."

"Maybe," said Crisler. "At the same time, it has one of our people. I for one am not inclined to leave her in there."

Michael looked at the habitat. It was completely covered in the black oil now; there were no telltale words to signify that it was a physical object that could be written on— there was only a complete absence of stars in a starburst shape to show that anything was there at all.

The staffer's voice cut in. "Sir! Registering a change. Heat levels are rising in a number of spots. No change on the surface, but the ferrofluid's radiating, probably from sources underneath. We might be able to image the sources."

"If anything breaks through the surface, shoot it off," said Crisler. "Marines, prepare to enter the thing."

"Sir, wait," said the staffer.

"What the hell is it?"

"Sir… it's changing shape."

SIX CHAMBERS IN, Rue found the control panel.

The previous rooms had been more and more specific; when it came, this one wasn't a surprise.

Rue moved in a daze, a kind of ecstasy. She knew exactly what was happening and it was the fulfillment of every possibility that Jentry's Envy had ever hinted at. The outside world, the past, her worries, even hunger and thirst, had all dissolved in the wonder of the present.

This chamber glittered with light and hummed with sound. It had eight doors, as had the others. The auroral glows and sparkling-edged images projected all around her were beautiful and alien, but she knew their purpose. They were the question that followed her last answer.

She moved slowly into the chamber and entered a region of focused sound. The tones were ordered, a kind of wonderful chorus, and when she moved they shifted and modulated. It was like the air itself held little clouds of sound and she could poke her head into one or another and hear its particular song.

Sadly, it was not practical. Herat would have spent a whole career in this little space, writing dissertations on the use of holographic sound to convey metric information. Mike would have heard endless kami in it. She was with Mike on this one.

Hulking near the next door was a large metal frame, surrounded with interpenetrating rings like one of those medieval globes of the heavens. At its center the whole contraption held a set of straps and manacles in places where they could be clamped around arms, legs, neck, torso. It looked very disturbing, like a high-tech torture device, but when she figured out what it was, Rue was actually tempted to try it. Herat would be even more fascinated by this thing: a display and input device that used physical pressure, orientation and position to convey and read information. A full-body joystick.

There were two places whose models she couldn't figure out at all; two which were strictly visual and beautiful, but whose input component eluded her. At the seventh door, she found the one she needed.

From outside, this area of the chamber had a kind of polarized sheen to it. When she glided into the space it defined, though, she found herself surrounded by stars. The holography was beautiful and precise; she could faintly see the rest of the chamber through it.

Also in this space were several little pens, more like chopsticks. She didn't know whether they were real or projected until she picked one up. It was cool metal, smooth and comfortable to hold. She took another, held them like chopsticks and reached out to pluck a star from the air.

To her amazement, the whole display zoomed in the blink of an eye. Before her was a blazing star, its tiny retinue of planets twinkling next to it. Dozens of tiny crosshairs floated in the display; they could represent asteroids, ships, or colonies. She felt that she was seeing a processed telescopic view and not something completely made up.

She waved the chopsticks and the star retreated to its original position.

Hmm… Rue looked around until she found another set of tiny crosshairs. It was down by her feet, very faint. She reached down and plucked it.

Jentry's Envy soared into view around her. She recognized Lake Flaccid, the red cube and there was the Banshee, balloon-sides glowing with internal light.

Rue wiped her eyes and looked about for the Lasa sphere.

There it was, superimposed over something cylindrical and familiar from the previous chambers she'd navigated. Yes. She was right about what was happening. She selected the sphere and it expanded around her.

Instead of an inner sphere made of metal and with airlock doors in it, though, she found herself floating above a giant sphere of light, with meridianal lines dividing it into many sections. Within each translucent section, small models glowed.

It's a menu. Laughing, she selected an element and it zoomed out around her— leaving a new sphere, its elements composed of variations on the item she had chosen.

She zoomed out, took one chopstick and waved it. It left a glowing line in space. She signed her name in thin air and laughed again.

Then she navigated down the menus until she found a little image of herself and she picked it up and deposited it outside the whole sphere.

The airlock below her blew outward in a big bubble, which opened, swallowed her and her display and closed again. From outside it she suddenly heard a tremendous crunching sound, like a giant's molars consuming a building. And she was moving.

That was okay; she knew where she was going. Rue was in charge of her ship at last.

"IT'S LENGTHENING OUT," said the staffer. "Becoming more cylindrical." Michael could see that with his own eyes now. The black surface was bulking up in places, then the bulges subsided again. It looked for all the world like a man dressing in a too-small survival bag.

"Sir?" asked Barendts.

"Hang on," said Crisler. "I need to know what it's doing."

"The heat signatures are intense," said the staffer. "We're getting radar showing all kinds of turmoil in there, sir. Very large masses in rapid motion."

"What kind? I need more information, damn it."

"Um… I think it would be unwise to send anyone in there at this time, sir. They'd be minced."

A space-suited figure jetted over to Michael. "What do you think?" asked Herat over a private channel.

"She triggered some kind of transformation, that's for sure," said Michael. "But it doesn't make any sense, based on where we were on the sequence. The Lasa were asking us something about how our life is organized, but why would the answer lead to this?"

"Maybe they're like the autotrophs," said Herat. "If we replied that we ate life like them, they might go ballistic. After all, wouldn't that be a major part of their assessment? Seeing what kind of risk we are?"

"I prefer not to believe that they're paranoid, sir."

"You prefer to think she's still alive," said Herat quietly. "So do I, Michael."