William is dead. And Fred Falcon.

There were others awake now, making sounds not like moans, more like sighs and whimpers. All too weak to talk.

A mom floated beside Martin. He did not know whether it actually appeared out of nothing, or whether his attention had flagged; consciousness was a sometime thing under the ministration of the golden worms.

"How long since we were hurt?" he asked.

"Two tendays," the mom said. He noticed a remnant of black and white paint on the front; this was still the War Mother.

"Where are we?"

"We have moved to a wide orbit around Nebuchadnezzar. There has been no further attempt to damage the ship."

"Why not? They could kill us."

"I do not know," the War Mother answered.

"How many of us died?"

"No one who remained aboard Tortoisehas died, but all are injured. Half of Tortoisewas destroyed. William Arrow Feather and Fred Falcon died first. Yueh Yellow River's craft disintegrated."

"They were turned into anti em, weren't they?"

"Yes."

"Anti-matter doesn't behave exactly like matter… Their chemistry was going wrong, wasn't it? I should have known that. I should have seen the clues, the sparkles… Our outgassing and fuel remnants reacting with the bombship. I should have seenit."

"I also did not draw the right conclusions until it was too late. You are not to blame," the War Mother said.

"There were four. The other two… What happened to Stephanie and Theresa? Can you convert them back to matter?"

"We cannot," the War Mother said. " Tortoisecollided with one of the unconverted craft during the explosion. Nguyen Mountain Lily and Ginny Chocolate died. Stephanie and Theresa survived. Hu East Wind, Michael Vineyard, Leo Parsifal, and Nancy Flying Crow are back aboard and safe.

"Stephanie was killed later by my unsuccessful attempt to convert her craft back to matter. We do not have the technique or the understanding of how the conversion was accomplished—"

Martin turned his head away from the War Mother, knowing now that Theresa was dead, too.

"Stephanie Wing Feather's craft was only partially converted, or converted unevenly. It exploded, causing yet more damage to Tortoise.'"

"Then you tried again with Theresa."

"No. Theresa is still in her craft."

Martin jerked his head around. "She's alive?"

"She is still alive."

Martin's weak grip on consciousness wavered and the War Mother seemed to shimmer before him. He pushed the dark pressures away and said, "Let me speak to her."

The War Mother raised his wand to his hand with a slender green ladder field. The wand projected an image of Theresa's bombship into his eyes. The skin of her bombship still sparkled, but sharp pulses of light occurred much less often. The craft drifted a hundred kilometers from Tortoise.

Martin saw Theresa's face, wrapped in the folds of her couch, ladder fields glowing fitfully around her.

Martin spoke her name. She fumbled to complete the noach connection.

"You're awake," she said listlessly. Her face had yellowed, her hands ulcerated; her anti-matter chemistry, tuned to a slightly different physics, did not match her biological makeup. She was very ill. "I can't see you too well," Theresa said. "Were you badly hurt?"

"I think I'm healing. So are the others." His voice wobbled with emotion and he swallowed to control it. "I screwed up, Theresa."

"You couldn't have known."

"The ship's badly hurt, I think."

"The War Mother tells me about half of it is left," Theresa said. A picture of Tortoisefrom her perspective grew above Theresa's image; one hemisphere, a blunt-ended, debris-scarred pylon, drives gone. "Some amazing things," Theresa said. "The moms actually used the explosion—William and Fred—to propel the ship away from Nebuchadnezzar. The ship turned into it, used it. I followed… we all followed."

"How… How are you feeling?" Martin asked.

"I've been in this can for two tendays. It wouldn't be so bad, but I can't eat. I'm pretty weak. I've been waiting—"

"I'll ask the War Mother. We'll try everything."

Theresa shook her head. "They got us good. They know things the Benefactors don't."

Or aren't willing to teach us, Martin thought, but that didn't make sense; the War Mother could have converted the craft while the injured crew slept and nobody would have been much the wiser. Theresa was right. We've been aced.

Martin looked at the War Mother. "You tried, and it didn't work?"

"Stephanie Wing Feather agreed to an experiment. She is dead. We cannot turn anti-matter into matter."

"You're supposed to understand," Martin said. "How can you be ignorant about this?"

"The techniques are unknown to us."

"Jesus, I'm not asking for so much, just learn how to do it! She's dying!"

The War Mother said nothing. Martin wrapped his face in his hands.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up," Theresa said. "I'm glad you did before… I have a plan, and it's not much, but it's something. I've asked the War Mother to make a strong field and put pellets of matter into it, with me. I'm behind the field. You're protected. The explosion could be even more powerful than Stephanie's. That's what Stephanie asked for. If the experiment didn't work. It didn't. She helped push you—"

"No!" Martin shouted.

Theresa closed her eyes as if to sleep. "I've stayed this long to talk to you. Maybe it would have been easier to just do it while you were asleep. The War Mother says it would be useful. "

"We'll take you with us, carry you in a field," Martin said. "We'll work on some way to convert you. Jennifer can think of something if the War Mother can't."

"I was being selfish," Theresa continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "I wanted to say some things to you, make sure you were all right. I wanted to see you again and talk with you."

"Please," Martin wailed, suddenly back in the crowded chamber aboard the Ark, watching the Earth die, and knowing even as a young boy what he was losing. He struggled but all he could do was twist in the field.

"Right now I'm good for nothing and I hurt. I thought about going back to Nebuchadnezzar, looking for a target, but the War Mother and I agreed, I'd just fizzle out and give the planet another useless scar."

" God damn it!" Martin screamed.

"Please," Theresa said, laying her head against the neck rest. "Let's just talk while there's time."

Martin felt immediate shame and sobered. "I love you," he said hoarsely. "I don't want you to go away."

"I can't come back to you, Martin, and that means I'm dead already."

He struggled against the fields again but kept his face under control. "We need to think." He stared at the War Mother, face wreathed with a child's bitter disappointment. "Nothing?"

"She is suffering and will not survive much longer," the War Mother said.

"I was selfish," Theresa said. "I'm hurting you more than if I just—"

"No, no. I'm glad you stayed." He pushed to be closer to her image. "I'm… I'll tell you something. I'm going to tell you about the new home." He made a supreme effort to put on a face of expectancy and joy. "It's going to be far away from here and so beautiful, Theresa. We'll make it. We're going to do the Job, and we'll go there, and I swear it will be beautiful.