In time the space-dwelling machines were driven into narrow enclaves, like the early algae mats. Out here, bordering the realm of ice, machines had finally wedded with plants to make anthology creatures. This desperate compromise had saved them. Cley had seen several of them enter the Leviathan—beings which looked to her like mossy furniture or animated steel buildings.

             Sometime long ago, spaceborne life had begun to compete for materials with the planetary life zones. After all, most of the light elements in the solar system lay in the outer planets and in the cometary nuclei far beyond Pluto. In this competition the planets were hopelessly outclassed.

             From the perspective of space, Cley thought, planetary Hfe even looked like those ancient algae mats—flat, trapped in a thin wedge of air, unaware of the great stretching spaces beyond. And now the mats survived only in dark enclaves on Earth, cowering before the ravages of oxygen.

             Given a billion years, planetborne life had done better than the mats. Slowly the planetary biospheres forged connections to space-borne life through great beasts like the Pinwheel, the Jonah, the Leviathan.

             But was this only a momentary pause, a temporary bargain struck before the planets became completely irrelevant?

             Or—the thought struck her solidly—were they already?

34

             The Supras boarded the Leviathan after protracted negotiation. The Captain appeared before Seeker and Cley, buzzing madly, alarmed for some reason Cley could not understand. She had to reassure the Captain three times that she was indeed the primitive human form the Supras sought.

             Only then did the Captain let the Supras board and it was some time before Alvin appeared, alone, thrashing his way through the luxuriant greenery. He was tired and disheveled, his usually immaculate one-piece suit stained and dirty.

             Then Clay saw that his left arm was missing below the elbow.

             "What—how—"

             "Some trouble with a minor agency," Alvin said, voice thin and tight.

             She rushed to him. Felt the stub of his arm. The flesh at the elbow was deeply bruised and mottled with livid yellow and orange spots.

             "A little snarly thing," he said, sitting carefully in a vine netting. "Came at me as we entered this enormous beast."

             "An animal?"

             "A concoction of the Mad Mind."

             "What—"

             "I killed it."

             "What can I do? Didn't you bleed? What—"

             "Let it go," he said, waving her away, mustering more strength in his voice.

             "But you're hurt. I—"

             "My arm will take care of itself." He grimaced for an instant but then recovered with visible effort.

             She moved to help him but he turned, keeping the severed arm away from her. She frowned with concern. "Well, at least take something for the pain."

             "I could release ..." a twinge shook him "... my own endorphins if I chose. But it would slow regrowth."

             The stump of the arm had already formed a protruding mass of pale cells at its tip. Cley watched Alvin's flesh slowly begin to extrude from his elbow. The arm seemed to build itself layer by layer as it bulged outward. Stubs of bare white bone first inched forth. Then ligaments and tendons accumulated along the bones, fed by swarms of migrating cells like moving, busy lichen. A wave of denser cartilage followed, cementing attachments with fibers that wove themselves as she watched. Then layers of skin fattened in the wake of growth, first a column of pink and then darker shades. Already Alvin's arm was several centimeters longer. Sweat drenched his clothes but he clenched his teeth and said nothing, muscles standing out in his neck.

             Cley sat beside him, fetching water when he asked. A long while passed. He ate some red nuts when she offered them but refused any more food. He seemed to summon up the materials and energy for regrowth from his own tissues. His strong legs seemed to deflate slightly, as though flesh was dissolving and migrating to his wounded arm. His entire body turned a ruddy pink, flushed with blood. Muscles jerked and filigrees of color washed over his skin. He moaned occasionally but managed to contain his torment, breathing shallowly.

             His hand formed with quick rushes of matted gray cells. They flowed directly from his veins, moving to the working surface and making mats. These gathered into the fine network of muscles that made the human hand such a marvel of evolution's art. She watched as though this were a living anatomy lesson. Bones grew to their fine tips, followed by a wash of cloaking cells. Blue waves of cells settled into place as muscle. Stringy, yellow fat filled in spaces. Fresh skin had begun to wrap the thumb and fingers before Alvin blinked and seemed to be returning to full consciousness. White slabs hardened to make his fingernails, their tips nicely rounded.

             "I ... I never saw such," Cley said.

             "Usually we would take more time."

             "You must be exhausted. I could see your body stealing tissues to build your arm."

             "Borrowing."

             "My people have some ability like that, but nothing nearly—"

             "We must talk."

             Seeker appeared nearby. Where had it been all this time? Cley wondered.

             Alvin seemed to shake off the torpor which had possessed him. He stretched his arm experimentally and joints popped in his wrist and fingers. For a moment he reminded Cley of a teenager testing his newfound strength. Then he crisply glanced at Seeker and said, "So."

             "So what?" Cley countered. She felt at the edges of perception a darting conversation.

             Alvin shook his head and said to Seeker, "You promised you would help keep her safe."

             Seeker yawned. "I did."

             "But you did not have permission to take her away from us. And certainly not to escape into space."

             Cley had expected anger from Alvin, not this air of precise displeasure. She was not surprised that Seeker had struck some kind of deal with them back on Earth, though. Seeker enjoyed wriggling through the interstices of language.

             Seeker said, "I did not need permission."

             "I should think—"

             "After all, who could give it?" Seeker asked lazily.

             "She is of our kind. That gives us rights—"

             "You are Homo Technologicus. She is Ur-human, several species removed from you."

             Alvin pursed his lips. "Still, we are more nearly related than you."

             "Are you so sure?" Seeker grinned owlishly. "I span the genetic heritage of many earlier forms."

             "I am quite confident that if I read your helix I could easily find many more differences—"

             "Listen, you two," Cley broke in. "/ wanted to get away from that Library. So I left. Seeker was just along for company."

             Alvin looked at her for a long moment and then said calmly, "At least you are safe and have made the journey to where we need you."

             "You intended to bring me here yourself?" Cley asked.