“I still can’t get my head around the mechanics of this resurrection,” Harley said. “The principle, yeah. But how do you find a soul in the big empty universe—a specific one. And why? Why Megan Stewart? Why Camilla?” He pointed to Chitran. “And why her?”

“Stewart said something about them being communicators. Messengers.”

“Same thing as angels, if you know your Bible.”

“And, since I don’t, I’ll take your word for it.”

Sasha disengaged from the crime scene investigation and walked toward them, shaking her head. “Not going as planned?” Weldon said.

“She says the Architects are talking to her.”

“So I heard,” Harley said. “But what are they telling her?”

“Apparently…find Camilla.”

Weldon groaned. “Yeah, yeah. And why would they do that? Wasn’t she one of the Revenants?”

“I hope you don’t expect me to have those answers,” Sasha said.

Harley added, “Me, neither.”

“I just want to be sure we get them.”

Now Nayar approached. He looked as unhappy at Sasha.

“She says she was kneeling by the water, washing a shirt, when she got pushed down from behind. The assailant was on top of her, her hands around her throat. She fought, realized that the hands were small—”

“And so didn’t get away because?” Weldon said.

“She got hit with a rock.”

“Thrown or held in the same small hand?” Harley said.

“Yes. She was stunned, fell into the water, and died there.”

“Still from the broken neck?” Harley said.

“She’s not really sure,” Sasha said. “And I wish you guys would cut her a little slack. She was killed. God only knows what it’s like to go through that Revenant process. I mean, she’s still not quite right.”

“The language barrier isn’t helping,” Nayar said.

“She doesn’t speak Hindi?”

“Yes, but it’s not her first language. She grew up with Urdu, and none of us are good at it.”

“I thought the two languages were kissin’ cousins,” Harley said. At least, that was what he’d heard in the past few days.

“At a higher social level,” Nayar said. “In the technical world, or the political.” He frowned. “Chitran was a maid.”

“There are almost certainly native speakers in the rest of the Bangalore population,” Sasha said.

“Then we should get one of them to speak with her, stat,” Weldon said.

“We won’t learn much more,” Nayar said. “But conversation might be…more productive.” He was looking past Harley.

“Vikram, are you satisfied with her, uh, testimony?”

“Yes. Implausible as it might sound…I believe her.”

“A nine-year-old girl, yay high,” Weldon said, holding his hand out not much above his waist, “takes out a grown woman.”

“Come on, Shane!” Sasha said. “Chitran barely comes up to my shoulder. She’s weak, she’s distracted—”

“And children can be savage,” Nayar said.

“Especially children who are Revenants?” Harley said. He hadn’t permitted himself to class the reborn humans as Something Other Than…but the sample was small: a bit of anecdotal evidence about Megan Stewart and even less about Pogo Downey; Chitran, who wasn’t proving to be especially useful yet…and Camilla, largely untested or examined. “Where did she get to?”

No one had seen her for hours. “We’re looking,” Weldon said.

“Sure you don’t want some burly men to help with the fugitive?” Sasha said, not hiding the sarcasm.

“Anyone who wants to help is welcome,” Weldon said, his tone even.

“Before you go,” Nayar said, “one thing, and I don’t know if it’s significant.” He seemed reluctant to say it aloud. Finally: “It goes to this language issue. Chitran is not saying ‘Camilla killed me.’ It turns out that what’s she’s saying is, ‘Camilla killed us.’”

“Does it make a difference?” Weldon said.

“Well, yes,” Sasha said. “Remember what’s in Chitran’s head right now…images and terms from the Architect. That could be a warning…that Camilla’s actions were aimed at everyone.”

“And possibly not just humans,” Nayar said. “Perhaps every living thing on Keanu.”

He knew he was growing petulant—understandable, given the fatigue and the stress. A good leader doesn’t allow that, he told himself.

And answered himself: Who said you were a good leader?

Well, at the moment, through no fault of his own, Harley Drake was the best leader the HBs had. And he needed to act the part even though he didn’t feel the part. It had worked for presidents and prime ministers…why not him?

He said as much to Nayar, when the Bangalore leader caught up to him. “Sorry I was so short.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Nayar said. “I am more concerned about the Temple.” Oh, what now? Harley thought. “Did you happen to look at the Woggle-Bug terrarium before you left for the lake?”

“I might have, but something is telling me I didn’t really.”

“You know that our single bug turned into two, and later four and eight.”

“Ah, no, I got as far as two.” Harley looked at Nayar, trying to determine just how worried he was. It was so difficult for him to read the Indian engineer’s expressions and manner. Christ, no wonder we keep having problems with an alien environment and its inhabitants—we can barely understand people from a different continent!

“Oh, it’s much worse now. Given a geometric progression every hour, it might be several hundred or a thousand…not that they are truly individuals.”

“How the hell are they doing it? What are they using for food or fuel or extra mass?”

“It appears they are eating the terrarium itself, or possibly the flooring underneath it.”

“Okay, I need to take a look at this, then.”

They were still two hundred meters from the Temple. As Harley had expected, and hoped, the population was quieting down for the “evening.” Rhythm and regular schedules—astronauts required those for productive work in space. Hell, for productive work at home! If only the damn habitat would accommodate them…this permanent twilight was tiring everyone out.

Not that that was the only reason. “Vikram, earlier you were talking about the Woggle-Bugs communicating. I never heard how.”

“Jaidev discovered that the first pair, even the first four, seemed to be arranging themselves in obvious patterns. Things that had a mathematical element. It was as if the creature or creatures were searching for some shape we would recognize, then respond to.”

“Well, obviously you’ve recognized something. Did you make any kind of response?”

“I was not part of the team.”

They reached the Temple. The first thing Harley saw was that the ground floor was almost deserted. Several Houston types were clustered in the far corner, talking or sharing meager food.

Then Harley saw Gabriel Jones, curled up asleep on the floor…he hoped.

Only then did he see the terrarium—“Oh, shit.”

It had been tipped over. The composite shell was still intact, but the thing was now wide open. And a smear of Woggle-Bugs stretched from the former spot on the floor—which had been eaten away as if by termites—right out the front, where it spread and appeared to seep into the ground.

And no one seemed to be paying attention! “Vikram!”

“I know, I know.” The Bangalore leader was looking over Harley’s shoulder. Now he began shouting orders in Hindi. “Get Jaidev down here now!”

“What will Jaidev do?” Harley said. “For that matter, what do we do?”

“We treat this as a chemical spill,” Nayar said.

“In spite of the apparent intelligence of these creatures…”

“Yes! I’m afraid if, unchecked, they’ll overrun the habitat in a week!”

Harley agreed completely. He just wanted to know that Nayar was on board for an extermination.

Jaidev and his fellow magicians arrived from the upper levels, skidding to a halt like cartoon characters when they saw the upended terrarium. Harley noted that Xavier Toutant was with them. “How did this happen?” Jaidev said. “I was down here half an hour ago and it was fine!”