“Atvar H’sial does not know,” J’merlia translated. “However, she suggests that what you are asking is a quite different — though admittedly highly significant — question.”

The seedship’s computational powers had not been affected by impact with the surface of Genizee. From the planet’s size, mass, orbital parameters, and visible features, the computer readily provided an overview of surface conditions.

Genizee rotated slowly, with a forty-two-hour day, about an axis almost normal to its orbital plane. The atmospheric circulation was correspondingly gentle, with little change of seasons and few high winds. The artificial moon, circling just a couple of hundred thousand kilometers away, looked huge from Genizee’s surface, but its mass was so tiny that the planet’s tides came only from the effects of its sun; again, the slow rotation rate decreased their force.

The climate of mid-latitude Genizee was equable, with no extremes of freezing or baking temperatures. Surface gravity was small, at half standard human. As a result the geological formations were sharp and angled, sustaining steeper rock structures than would be possible in a stronger field; but the overall effect of those delicate spires and arches was more aesthetic than threatening, as abundant vegetation softened their profiles. The final computer summary suggested a delicate and peaceful world, a cozy environment where native animals needed little effort to survive. There should be nothing to fear from the easygoing native fauna.

“Which proves just how dumb a computer can be,” Louis Nenda said. “If Zardalu are easygoing and laid back, I’ll — I’ll invest everything I have in Ditron securities.”

He and Atvar H’sial had lagged behind Rebka and Kallik as they walked along the shore. With three hours to go to planetary nightfall, Hans Rebka had decreed that before they could rest easy they needed to take a close look at the structures that Kallik had found. He was particularly keen to have Atvar H’sial’s reaction. Given her different suite of sensory apparatus, she might perceive something where others did not.

J’merlia had been left behind in the seedship. He had already begun work on the repair of the hull and the message drone, and he had insisted that the work would go fastest with least interference. If they stayed away for three hours or more, he said, he would have the ship ready for takeoff to orbit.

“Investment in securities of any kind begins to appear as an attractive alternative to our own recent efforts for the acquisition of wealth.” The pheromonal message diffused across from Atvar H’sial, who was crouching low to the ground and reducing her speed to a crawl to match Nenda’s pace. “It is never easy to be objective about one’s own actions and one’s accomplishments, but it occurs to me that our recent history has not been one of uninterrupted triumph.”

“What you mean?”

“You and I chose to remain on Serenity to acquire an unprecedented and priceless treasure of Builder technology. When we were returned to the spiral arm by the Builders’ constructs — for whatever reason — our new objective became the planetoid of Glister, for the purpose of the acquisition of Builder technology there, and the repossession of your ship, the Have-It-All. To that end, we agreed that we would need the use of some other ship, and we set out for Miranda with that in mind. But see where our fine strategy has taken us. We find ourselves deep in the middle of one of the spiral arm’s least understood and most dangerous regions, on a world we believe to be native to the arm’s most ferocious species, with a ship that is presently incapable of taking us to orbit. One wonders if our record is much superior to a suggested Ditron investment.”

“You’re too negative, At. Did you ever see a big snake like a python swallow a big fat pig?”

“That event, I am happy to say, has not been part of my life experience.”

“Well, the thing about it is this: once it starts, it can’t stop. Its teeth curve backward, so it has to open its mouth wider an’ wider an’ swallow an’ swallow an’ swallow until it downs the whole thing. See, it can’t give up in the middle.”

“How very unedifying. But a question appears to be in order. Do you see us in the role of the python, or of the pig?”

“At, none of that. Stop puttin’ me on.”

Atvar H’sial’s pheromones were in fact filled with sly self-satisfaction as they walked the last quarter mile to the structures along the shoreline. It took a lot to shake a Cecropian’s invincible self-satisfaction and conviction of superiority.

There were five buildings, each made of a fine-grained material like cemented gray sand. The shore of the blue-gray sea jutted out at that point into a long, spoon-shaped peninsula, four hundred yards long, with the beach falling away steeply on each side of it. The buildings, each sixty feet tall, sat together in a cluster within the bowl of the spoon, with water lapping up to within thirty yards of their walls. Although the tides of Genizee were small and the winds usually mild, it was easy to imagine that the water sometimes came up to and even inside all of the buildings.

Kallik and Hans Rebka had walked out along the long handle of the spoon and already made a circuit of each building by the time Nenda and Atvar H’sial reached them.

“Not a window in sight.” Rebka advanced to an elliptical doorway, three times as tall as he was and at least six feet across. “Atvar H’sial, you’ll see a lot more than the rest of us in there, even with the lights we’ve got. Lead the way, would you, and pass word through Nenda about what you’re seeing.”

When Nenda had translated, the Cecropian nodded and shuffled forward into the first of the buildings. The pleated resonator below her chin was vibrating, while the yellow horns on each side of her head were turned to the dark interior. Louis Nenda followed right behind her, then Kallik. Rebka stayed at the entrance. He was their watchdog, dividing his attention between the activity inside and the deserted shore. As the light faded, the interior of the building became increasingly hard to see. Squinting west, Rebka estimated that sunset was less than an hour away.

“Three steps up, then four down. Watch how you go,” Nenda translated. “At’s standing where the inside divides into two, into a couple of big rooms that split the whole interior in half. One’s nearly empty — a bedroom, she’d guess. Wet floor, though — whatever sleeps there likes everything real damp. The other room’s more interesting. It has furnishings: long tables, various heights, no chairs, and a wet floor, too. There’s a lot of weird growing stuff, all different shapes an’ sizes, where you might expect equipment. At’s not sure what most of it is. She thinks it shows the Zardalu preference for fancy biological science and technology, where we and the Cecropians would use machines. That’s what the race memories and old legends about the Zardalu say — they could make biology stand on its head, do with natural growth that we still can’t get near yet. Nothin’ looks dangerous, but it might be. Long tunnel in the middle of the room, spiraling down farther than At can see — way underground, she’d guess from the echoes. Impossible to know how far it might go. And there’s more equipment by the tunnel’s edge. Hold on, she’s changing sonic frequencies. Wants to see if she can get an inside look without goin’ too close.”

There were a few seconds of silence, followed by a startled grunt from Nenda.

“What is it?” Rebka was edging his way farther into the building, propelled by curiosity.

“Somethin’ really impenetrable, At says. Her echolocation is bouncing off it right at the surface. Hold on. She’s going to have a feel.”

There was a longer pause, even harder to take, then Rebka heard a rapid shuffle of movement a few yards away in the darkness. “What’s happening?” he asked. As he spoke, Kallik and Nenda popped into sight, with Atvar H’sial just behind.