“Me, too,” Xavier said.

Rachel turned to him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m staying.”

“Why?” Yahvi said. She sounded stricken.

Xavier slipped an arm around her and smiled. “Kiddo, there is a shitload of work to do here. Planet’s still full of Reivers.” He pointed to the van. “But we’ve got the proteus and Sub K, and me and Edgely here might be able to do something about that.”

“Zhao is doing it,” Pav said.

“No,” Yahvi said. “They couldn’t deploy all their weapons. They chose to come for us.” She frowned, still listening. “There maybe be new orders.”

“Hey,” Xavier said, his voice growing more serious. “Once I’ve got this Reiver thing dealt with, I’m going to figure out how to build a Beehive right here. I think people might really be interested in not being dead forever.”

Xavier’s ideas always surprised Rachel. She was going to miss him terribly. “You’re sure?”

“You know I really hated cooking on Keanu,” he said. “This will be better.”

Edgely was already in the shotgun seat of the van. Xavier took the keys and ran around to the driver’s side. “Which way are you going?” Tea said.

“Always forward,” Xavier said, slamming the door and gunning the van.

“Good move,” Pav said, pointing back the way they had come.

Dust rose from the road. “How far away are they?” Rachel said.

Pav sighed. “Not far enough.”

A tank rolled over the hill into view. It was dark green, tracked, twice the size of their van . . . and sporting a nasty-looking weapon pointed at a forty-five-degree angle. “Now what?” Tea said, jerking a thumb toward the vesicle. “Do they have missiles on that thing?”

“No,” Rachel said. “And it won’t matter. This could be the first of a hundred of those things.” She was out of energy, out of ideas. The vesicle and a return to Keanu was right there! So close . . . even if the vesicle ballooned out now, it would suck up hostile forces, too.

At least Xavier and Edgely might get away.

Without firing, however, the big brutal-looking vehicle slewed to a stop a few meters away.

“Mommy . . .” Yahvi said. They were all rooted where they stood, Rachel realized. Like plants.

The side hatch opened, and Zeds emerged. “What the hell?” Pav said.

Yahvi was running toward the Sentry, throwing herself into both sets of arms.

“I have others,” the Sentry announced. And out of the car behind him came Counselor Nigel, looking shaken yet excited. “I want to come with you,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

“Sure,” Yahvi said, surprising Rachel.

One more passenger emerged from the tank . . . a Reiver Aggregate anteater. “Oh, Jesus!” Pav said, and bent to reach for a rock.

Rachel felt like doing the same thing, but Zeds stepped in front of the creature. “This unit has shown independence and initiative. We would not be here without her.”

“We can’t take a Reiver back to Keanu!” Pav said.

“She will be my responsibility,” Zeds said.

He had no right to claim responsibility . . . except that he had risked his life. “Fine,” Rachel said, “she comes.” Sometimes you had to make quick decisions. And live with them.

“Mom!” Yahvi said. “It’s happening!”

Rachel turned, just as the white bulk of the vesicle expanded and enclosed them all.

Keep watching the skies!

LAST LINE OF THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD

(DALE SCOTT’S FAVORITE MOVIE)

DALE

After what seemed like weeks (twenty minutes had passed since the integration), there was no longer any way of telling where Dale Scott ended and Keanu began. The entity that was formerly Dale Scott had been absorbed and uploaded. There was no longer an I or an individual—some residual memories survived, like a drop of cream in a cup of coffee . . . separate, but for how long?

There was no regret, only mutual acceptance. Especially as electronic eyes opened and ears engaged and data flowed. First there was total awareness of Keanu itself, the habitats buzzing with life and energy, then the tunnels and passageways pulsing with fluid—like blood in veins—and, finally, the sense of size. . . . Keanu rotated slowly, feeling to a former human like shoulders being shrugged, like rising from a chair. Then dived forward, in a slow fall—

Beyond a growing awareness of Keanu’s self, the universe opened. The crackling storm of solar radiation—it had a smell like woodsmoke and a sound like heavy rain.

Tens of thousands of stars and nebulae colored the sky, some of them feeling so close that there was an urge to reach out and grab a handful—

But close by, there was a world that could be grasped. Or certainly could be known. Images. Data. So many signals and sounds.

Then, more closely, more intelligibly . . . like a three-dimensional image clarifying:

Terrified crowds gathered at religious sites in Asia and Europe.

Radio, television, and Net channels shuddered under the weight of warnings, reassurances, commentaries. . . . What was Keanu doing? Was it out of control? Was it on a suicide dive—impacting Earth would destroy both worlds.

Was it attacking? Missiles in the western region of Free Nation U.S. were armed but not launched, almost certainly because the controlling authorities realized the futility of detonating a bomb on Keanu’s surface. Agencies could easily assess the minimal damage caused by the explosion that destroyed Venture and Brahma in 2019. It would be futile, a pebble bouncing off a containership.

Within the habitats . . . the Skyphoi were indifferent. The Sentries were alarmed. Humans, however, were eager and curious. Voices called out for a view; at least one human was trying to re-create the Keanu protective-suiting system in order to go onto the surface. (He would fail.)

But Keanu itself, Dale himself, saw the sights . . . the blinding snowy landscape of Keanu . . . the huge, shadowed crescent of Earth growing visibly larger with each passing moment.

The former Dale Scott had fragmentary memories of low flights, hazy greenish targets, the grunting release of weapons, the glorious explosion of light.

This was so much better. So, so, so much better.

The sky is falling!

ONE BILLION TEXTS, APRIL 23, 2040

CARBON-143

CONTEXT: As the countdown to Fire Light entered its final ten minutes, Carbon-143 noted a system-wide surge in data use and access. This information triggered first concern, since additional access might well signal examination of her searches and modifications, then satisfaction, since it also indicated extreme bandwidth consumption and confusion.

NARRATIVE: Assembly ceased at the minus-two-hour point, as the Ring system required every possible unit of energy for Fire Light. The order was hardly necessary; so many units had been withdrawn from assembly and ordered to the staging areas that activity had essentially ceased.

Carbon-143 and her formation were ordered to the staging area and their 732 vehicles, as part of the third wave. She wanted to remain at her station, where she could monitor the data flow from the control center, specifically the actions of Whit Murray.

But that was no longer possible. She could only hope that Whit was able to override the command and take brief control of the process.

And stop the Ring from allowing the invasion and the destruction of most human life.

DATA: As she and her formation emerged from the operations and assembly building and moved toward their staging area, joining up with four other formations, Carbon-143 noticed movement in the shadows to her left. The area was open and used for the delivery of raw materials. There should have been no activity, but there was.