“I got responses for almost half the methods.”

“Which actually undercuts your argument,” Jaidev said. “Couldn’t they just be responding autonomously? Like machines.”

“Look,” he said, clearly beginning to lose patience, “they actually rearranged themselves when I started putting pieces of paper up against the habitat walls. They put themselves in little fucking shapes! They were in the process of reproducing…I bet if you repeated the experiment, they’d line up like soldiers on parade!”

This was more interesting, possibly useful, and, theoretically, dangerous. “Good job,” Jaidev said, unable to stifle the compliment.

Which somehow caused Daksha to give him a hug. And for one horrible pair of seconds, Jaidev wondered if Daksha’s pre-Object hostility, not to mention the eager punch to his face, was the result of some complicated, sublimated, unhappy homoerotic attraction. Daksha to Jaidev.

He hoped not. Jaidev’s range of sexual partners was, as one of them had once sneered, broad, but shallow; he was attracted to a certain physical type, and Daksha was pretty thoroughly not that.

The hug ended when Vikram Nayar passed through the work area, making his usual queen-of-England-style pause to ask after the latest developments (“How are we doing now, hmmm?”), which allowed Jaidev to say, “The Woggle-Bugs are communicating.”

“Who says?”

And here Jaidev made himself happy. “I do,” he said, and gave a quick recap of the information Daksha had just shared with him.

Nayar got as excited as Jaidev had ever seen him, telling Jaidev and Daksha to follow him downstairs—and not waiting for them.

“So now we’re even?” Daksha said. “You steal my idea, payment for punching you?”

“Not even close,” Jaidev said. “But it’s a start.”

GABRIEL

Noisy in the Temple…why? Gabriel Jones wanted everyone to shut up; can’t you see a man’s trying to sleep here?

He said something, grunted, maybe. Rolled over and felt better now. Really needed his rest, needed to be strong for tomorrow, for all the days to come.

Wondered how long he had been lying here…What time was it?

Not too long, he was sure. He’d been busy talking with Harley and Nayar and Weldon and the two Hindi guys and the Blaine woman…something about Wiggle-Bugs or Woggle-Things, whatever. There was one, now two, maybe four or sixteen or, hell, five hundred, some big number.

Trying to say something, supposedly. God damn, he wished they would move the Woggling Thing somewhere else…felt as though it were close enough to touch!

Those things saying something…what? How? They were bugs! Tiny little things you could squish if you wanted.

Maybe they rearranged themselves to spell out words! That was it! The Woggle-Bugs had spelled out Help! or Let us out! That was why everybody seemed to be in such an uproar.

That idea was so funny, he laughed out loud, though that hurt and made him cough.

“Gabriel, how are you doing, man?”

Who kept bothering him!?! Oh, Harley. Good man. Suffered a lot. Got to be patient with Harley Drake. “Resting.”

“Sit up so you can get something to eat and drink.”

“Not hungry.”

“I don’t care. Doctor’s orders.” All Gabriel saw was a wheel from Harley’s chair half a meter in front of his nose. Careful! Close enough to run over him! “Come on, help him sit up.”

Hands on him…he didn’t like that, struggled. “Hey!” he said.

Weldon and Sasha Blaine. Sasha put a cup to his lips, made him drink. Water. Gulped some, started choking. He tried to push her away, damn woman, bothering him like this.

Then she put a spoon to his mouth, something on that…tasty, like cold stew. Treating him like a baby, though. Wanted to tell them it wasn’t nice, he was a grown man with two doctorates and director of the Johnson Space Center! They all worked for him—!

“What can we do for him?” Weldon said.

“He’s sick, not deaf,” Harley said.

“Hiding a man’s physical condition is too old-school for these circumstances,” Weldon said. He turned to Gabriel. “You’re a grown-up, Gabe. You’re in bad shape, renal failure or close enough it doesn’t make any difference. Nayar and his team have just started to get the hang of programming items from the Temple. You’re drinking some water and eating some of the food. But it’s going to take time. You can’t just lie down and die; we won’t let you.”

He took the stew from Sasha, sat Indian style in front of Gabriel, and began feeding him rather more forcefully. Gabriel wanted to fight, but no strength! And…well, the food tasted good, best he’d had in the longest time! Maybe that was all he needed—a decent meal! None of this alien fruit stuff or leftover junk from a cooler!

“Mr. Drake!”

More noise suddenly, all around. Harley wrenched his chair away. Gabriel was too tired and too busy eating to pay much attention. Delegate! He’d learned that lesson. Can’t do everyone’s job. He was the director of the Johnson Space Center…he had a lot on his plate. Bring me the big decisions—!

Then Shane Weldon stopped feeding him and said, “Holy shit…” He stood up.

Slumped over, unable to raise his head, it was tough to see, much less understand what was going on. But Gabriel knew the voice of that Katrina kid, Xavier. He was all excited and upset about something.

And there was a woman crying. Gabriel heard the name Chitran. Indian name. Bangalores, yes, one of them. So what was the big deal?

Then Sasha Blaine was saying, quite loudly, “She was dead, Harley! Just yesterday!”

“Well, she’s back. We knew that was possible, didn’t we?”

“You’re pretty fucking casual about this—”

Weldon was still standing where he blocked Gabriel’s view. “She was killed, Harls. Murdered.”

“Okay, then, back from the dead, the perfect person to ask…who did it?”

Now it was Vikram Nayar’s voice, saying, “She said it was the girl. She said it was Camilla.”

Sasha said, “Oh, for God’s sake, she’s a nine-year-old girl. She’s probably still addled from whatever has happened to her—”

“Vikram,” Harley said, “get her to calm down.”

“She wants her child,” Nayar said. “And she wants us to punish Camilla.”

“Where is the baby?” Harley said. “Sasha—?”

“Sleeping with the Bangalores. I was just going to check on her—”

“Better get the baby.”

“Better find Camilla, too,” Weldon said.

“She shouldn’t be far,” Nayar said. “She’s been living right here with these bugs all afternoon.” He handed the food to Nayar and started for the opening.

“Wait a second,” Sasha said. “What are you going to do?”

“Bring her in for questioning, I guess.” Weldon turned to the others. “Right?” Then he was gone.

Sasha seemed upset. “Harley, is this spinning out of control?”

Harley laughed so loud it startled Gabriel. “When was it ever in control?”

Gabriel must have moaned, because suddenly Sasha knelt next to him. “What do we do about Gabriel?”

“Might as well let him rest.”

Gabriel rolled over and sighed. The woman was still crying about her baby. What was the passage from the Bible? “Rachel weeping for her children”? Gabriel felt that…weeping for Yvonne, for the stupid decisions he had made that cost her her life…had cost him his life.

More sleep.

MAKALI

“What are we expecting from this?” Dale Scott asked.

Makali and Zack and Dale and Valya had followed the Sentry farther into a Beehive chamber that was a good cousin to the one adjoining the human habitat.

Makali realized that she no longer found Scott’s comments irritating, likely because of fatigue, familiarity, and the realization that he was merely vocalizing her own thoughts. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could use water, then food.”