"Let's vote," Ariel said when he paused.

"No." He shook his head patiently. "This isn't a matter for voting."

"Why not?" Ariel asked, her expression languid, without passion. We all wear killing faces. Faces showing nobody home, nobody responsible.

"Because the Pan makes all decisions now," Stephanie Wing Feather reminded her.

Martin half-expected Ariel to leave the cafeteria in anger, but she did not. She relaxed her arms, closed her eyes, sighed, then opened them again and watched his face intently.

"This is a tough one," Martin said. "If we wait long enough, we might learn whether we should hit Herod, or even focus on it. If there are no defenses, if the risk is low, we can suck out all of Nebuchadnezzar's atmospheric volatiles beforethe planet is destroyed—much easier and faster than after blowing it up…"

"Strip the atmosphere…" Andrew Jaguar said, shuddering. "Like vampires."

"We're going to blow it to dust anyway," Mei-li reminded him, small voice like a bird's chirrup.

"Hakim, how close do we need to be to investigate?"

"I don't think there's any real gain from being closer than a few thousand kilometers. If need be, we can send out remotes at this distance and create a bigger baseline, gather as much information as we would if we flew right down to the surface… But obviously, we could make a bigger blip in whatever sensors they have."

"What kind of baseline?" Martin asked.

Hakim conferred with his team for a few seconds. "We think at this distance, about ten kilometers. We could resolve down to bugs in the air, if there are any."

"The makers and doers have to be delivered from a distance of no more than one hundred kilometers," Stephanie said. "The bombships, fully fueled, have a range of forty g hours, and that can translate into however many kilometers of orbit we wish, if we're patient… We know that none of us can live in a bombship for more than about four tendays without going crazy. We could induce sleep, but that wouldn't be optimum."

The parameters were now clear to all the children. Each advantage had to be weighed against risk; Martin had worked through the momerath days before, and found several courses equally matched for danger and benefit. Theresa had checked his calculations, as had Stephanie Wing Feather and, he presumed, Hakim Hadj.

"We send out remotes and expand our baseline," he said. "That seems to involve the lowest risk. We can gather all the information we need in a few days. We pull in the remotes, coast in quietly, release the bombships, pick them up again after they've injected the weapons into Nebuchadnezzar, drop our doers to gather volatiles in the ruins, accelerate outward to Ramses as fast as possible, and execute again. If we haven't found any further signs of activity on Herod, we rendezvous with the robots after a fast orbit around Wormwood. Then we measure our resources, report to Hare, drop doers to mine what few resources there are on Herod, and boost out. The best estimate for a rendezvous with Hare is two years. Another year to swing back to Wormwood to gather up the robots and their gleanings."

The children groaned. They had done much of the momerath themselves, but hearing it from Martin—losing all hope of fast action and sacrifice of fuel to boost up and out, knowing what they had already suspected, that he would choose the most conservative and practical course, however time-consuming—brought the truth home hard.

Over three years. Awake and vigilant. And then, unlikely to have enough fuel to accelerate to near-c, perhaps centuries to move on to Leviathan…

At the very least, under those circumstances, they would have to sleep. There were dangers in such a long sleep; even a Ship of the Law could grow old.

Saying the plan aloud, when he had hardly thought it through clearly himself, made it seem both more real and strangely beyond real. Young human beings saying such words, planning such things.

As if to highlight the absurdity, Mei-li giggled. Her giggle died quickly and was not picked up around the room.

"We will be in position to release the bombships in six days," Hakim said.

Nebuchadnezzar was easily visible to the naked eye, a bright diamond among the lesser points of stars. Day by day, it became even brighter, and Martin ordered a star sphere expanded in the cafeteria. As they ate their meals, or gathered in quiet social groupings, they watched their target grow.

The remotes spread their photon-intercepting fields like webs and gathered in clear images of the brown world, as if opening an eye ten kilometers wide.

There were no bugs in the atmosphere—no life crawling on the surface, no organic chemical activity within the upper layers of soil.

Nebuchadnezzar's subtle motions resembled a feeble, irregular heartbeat, but the profiles of the internal vibrations did not match tectonics. Unlike Ramses', Nebuchadnezzar's heart was cool; any internal heat had fled long before.

Martin finished examining Hakim's figures while the other children slept, two days from H-hour.

The five inner masses remained enigmatic. From this angle to the ecliptic, they could not measure the objects in transit across Wormwood, but a chance star occultation allowed Hakim to confirm that one of the dark objects was three thousand kilometers in diameter, with a mass of approximately fourteen billion trillion kilograms, and only as dense as water. The dark objects might be clusters of neutronium with large spaces between, surrounded by a shell… or they might be balloons filled with water, a tantalizing idea, but unlikely.

"I have no idea what they are," Hakim said, shaking his head, expression grim and exhausted. "They worry me greatly, Martin."

Martin replayed the inner mass star occultation and associated graphics and measurement reports, trying to glean with supernatural intuition what could not be seen. "The War Mother has no suggestions?"

"The objects are outside the moms' experience, I think," Hakim said. He looked as if he were thinking, but would not say, Or they will not tell us.

But that would be absurd.

"We should pull in the remotes now," Martin said, shivering slightly.

"Still no signs of defense, no awareness of our presence—no preparation to fight," Hakim said.

"Nothing we can detect," Martin added.

"I would appreciate more time with the remotes—more time to find something…"

Martin thought that over for a few seconds, then nodded. "Another twelve hours. But let somebody else keep watch. You sleep."

"No," Hakim said. "This is my only duty. I watch, I calculate, I keep you informed… For now, I do not need to sleep." His eyes stared up at Martin out of sunken orbits. His hair tufted on his scalp, his face gleamed with oil, he smelled faintly sour.

"Sleep for five hours, and get cleaned up," Martin said, touching his cheek with one hand. "You'll make mistakes if you push yourself too much. We don't need mistakes. "

"I will get along with two hours of sleep," Hakim said. Then, smiling his angelic smile, "And I will take a shower, not to offend."

"All right. Put Jennifer in charge. She'll keep an eye out."

"It is because I am so worried," Hakim said. "What we do not know…"

When the remotes had been withdrawn, Martin conferred with Stephanie Wing Feather and Harpal Timechaser. Theresa and Jorge Rabbit hovered on the periphery in the otherwise empty quarters, representing the children aboard Tortoisein this final meeting of Pan and Tortoise'sshare of ex-Pans.