"But the worlds areactive."

"Active, yes, but they do not have large numbers of physical inhabitants—living creatures. The moms teach us that many civilizations reduce their presence to information matrices, abandoning their physical forms, and living as pure mentality."

"About half of all advanced civilizations…" Martin remembered, stroking his cheek with one hand.

"Yes. That could be the case here."

Maybe they've become ghosts. Martin shuddered at the thought of abandoning physical form; like spending forever in neural simulation. What would they gain? A low profile, a kind of immortality—but no need to physically colonize the systems they "sterilized" for future use. "You said we could almost make a judgment."

Hakim's face brightened. "I have been teasing, Martin. Withholding the best until last. This is very good. But you judge."

He ordered a series of charts on debris scattered throughout the ecliptic between fifty million kilometers and seven hundred million kilometers from Wormwood. "Dust and larger particles heated by the star, chemical reactions excited by the little stellar wind that does get through… Very interesting."

The dust and debris pointed to intense spaceborne industrial activity in the system's past. Much of the debris consisted of simple waste—rocky materials, lacking all metals and volatiles, heavy on silicates.

Manufacturing dust from shaping and processing: trace elements inevitably mixed into the dust, reflecting even more precisely than in the spectrum of Wormwood itself the proportions of trace elements in the killer machines.

"It's more than a close match," Martin said.

Hakim revealed his excitement in a mild lift of eyebrow.

"It's exact," Martin said.

"Very nearly," Hakim said.

"They made the killer machines around Wormwood."

"Perhaps around Leviathan, as well. We are not close enough to judge."

"But certainly here."

"The evidence is compelling."

Martin's skin warmed and his eyes grew moist, a response he had seldom felt before, and could not ascribe to any particular emotion. Perhaps it came from a complex of emotions so deeply buried he did not experience them consciously.

"No defenses?"

"None," Hakim said. "No evidence of defenses on the surface of the inner worlds. The depleted gas giant shows even less activity, a large lump of cold wastes and rocky debris, with a thin atmosphere of helium, carbon dioxide solids, bromine, and sparse hydrocarbons. Here is a list."

"Where did the volatiles go?" Martin asked. The list was devoid of hydrogen, methane, and ammonia. The thin haze of helium was so diffuse as to be useless. No swooping down to scoop up fuel, like Robin Hood swinging out of a tree to snatch a purse.

"Good question, but I can only guess, the same as you. The star is well over six billion years old. The volatiles could have been lost during birth, with the cold outer worlds getting correspondingly thinner envelopes of atmosphere. But this would be unusual for a yellow dwarf in this neighborhood."

"Even in a multiple group?"

Hakim nodded. "Even so. The volatiles might have fueled early interstellar travel within the group. The pre-birth cloud is also very low on volatiles, remember. Or…"

Martin looked up.

"Most of it could have been converted to anti em for making killer probes."

"That's a lot of probes," Martin said.

Hakim agreed. "Billions, fueled and sent out across the stellar neighborhood. Depleting the outer cloud, the comets, the ice moons, the gas giant, everything… If I may say so, a massive and vicious campaign with great risks, at great expense. To be followed logically by a wave of stellar exploration and colonization."

"But we don't see any settled systems beyond the group… It wouldn't make sense to launch such a campaign, and not follow through."

"Ah." Hakim raised his finger. "Centuries must pass while they wait for the probes to do their work. What if the civilization changes in that time?"

"Seems certain they'd change some," Martin agreed.

"A change of heart, perhaps, or sudden fear of the wrath of other civilizations. Cowardice. Many possibilities."

"What percentage of converted volatiles could be stored in the five masses?"

"A minuscule amount of the total estimated gases lost from the system," Hakim said. "We're not yet certain of the size, but each of the masses appears to be several thousand kilometers in diameter, which would rule out neutronium, if their densities were uniform."

Thorkild Lax said, "I'm finishing work on the outer cloud, and Min Giao is redoing our work on the inner dust and debris."

"Dust and debris… how long would it take to push most of it away from the system?"

"Wouldn't happen," Thorkild said. "Most of the dust grains and larger rubble are too big to be cleaned out by radiation. Remember, the stellar wind has been channeled up and out through the poles."

"A good point," Hakim said.

"How much more time do you need?"

"A day?" Hakim asked his colleagues.

"I'll need a break," Min Giao said. "My momerath is fading now."

"A day and a half," Hakim said.

"Fine," Martin said.

They would enter the outer pre-birth material in three days. They would make their decision. Martin had no doubt how the children would decide. The Dawn Treaderwould split just beyond the diffuse inner boundaries of the cloud. Tortoisewould begin super deceleration immediately after splitting.

They could disperse their weapons, carry out the Law, and at the very least, Harewould be outside the system before any defense could touch it.

The second stage of deceleration ended. Martin felt his stronger body jump free, like a highly charged battery. Some of the children felt mildly ill for a few hours, but the illness passed. Jennifer Hyacinth was a slim, chatty, energetic woman who had not impressed Martin upon their first meeting; triangular of face, neither pretty nor unpleasant to look at, with narrow eyes and a habit of wincing when spoken to, as if she were being insulted; thin of arm and large-chested, breasts sitting on her ribcage as if an afterthought. Jennifer had gradually acquired Martin's respect by the wry and sharp observations she made about life on ship, by her willingness to volunteer for jobs others found unpleasant, and most of all, by her extraordinary command of momerath.

Like Ariel, Jennifer Hyacinth did not trust the moms any more than she had to by working with them or living in an environment made by them. But she had concentrated this distrust into a kind of mental guerrilla action, using her head to gain insight into those things the moms did not tell the children.

Martin put her request to see him into a short queue of appointments for the first half of the next day, and met with her in his early morning, while Theresa organized torus transfer drills for the bombship pilots.

Jennifer laddered into his quarters in the first homeball, face taut, clearly uncomfortable.

"What's up?" Martin asked casually, hoping to relax her. She widened her eyes, shrugged, narrowed them again, as if she really had nothing to say, and was embarrassed by having called the meeting in the first place.

"Jennifer—" he said, exasperated.

"I've been thinking," she blurted defensively, as if he were to blame for her discomfiture. "Doing momerath and just thinking. I've reached some conclusions—not really conclusions, actually, but they're interesting, and I thought you'd like to hear them… I hoped you would."