I should be arranging for the burial of the bodies, Martin thought. The moms had always disposed of bodies before; why were they left out in the open now?

He stopped in a corridor and referred to his wand. Where were the moms? He called for one. None appeared. The wand itself acted fitfully, its projections weak and flickering.

He waited several minutes, beginning to shiver with a new fear: that the ship itself had suffered substantial damage, that its resources were diminished, that they might all die in a vessel without a ship's mind or the moms.

He was about to continue toward Harpal's chambers when a mom floated into view several meters ahead of him. "Thank God," Martin said. He embraced the robot gently, as if it might shatter. The mom did not react to his relief.

"I'm looking for Harpal," Martin said. "We have a lot of organizing to do, a lot of… psychological work."

"A description of damage is necessary," the mom said. "We will present an assessment before the entire crew."

"The bodies…"

"We cannot recycle for the time being. Repair work is under way now. Some of our facilities are limited or inoperative until the work is done. The dead will be kept in fields—"

Martin shook his head and held up his hand, not wanting to hear the minute details. "We just need reassurance," he said. "There could be a bad reaction if we don't have a meeting soon."

"Understood," the mom said.

"Where is Harpal?"

"He is in the tail," the mom said.

"I'll go get him."

Ariel came up behind them, sidled around the mom as if it were a wall, looked directly at Martin. "Hans is fuguing out," she said. "He's scaring the crew. Let's find Harpal, and fast."

They walked aft, not speaking until they were in the spaces of the second homeball. Here, the peculiar singed odor was even stronger.

Ariel wrinkled her nose. "Are we as bad off as it smells?" she asked.

"You heard what the mom said."

"You know how I feel about the moms," Ariel said.

Martin shrugged. "They saved us."

"They put Us down there in the first place. How grateful should I be that they got us out?"

"We chose—"

"Let's not argue," Ariel said. "Not while Hans is sucking his thumb and Rosa is back there acting like a priestess. We have to move, or we're going to be in more trouble than we ever imagined—our own kind of trouble. The moms aren't going to pull us out of a fugue. They don't know how."

"Hans isn't sucking his thumb," Martin said. "He's… putting it all together."

"You sympathize with everyone and everything, don't you?" Ariel said. She smiled as if in admiration, and then the smile took on a tinge of pity.

Harpal Timechaser looked at them with a frightening blankness as they approached. He had hidden in a dense tangle of pipes.

Martin's temper had worn thin; now he was angry at Harpal, angry at everybody, not least angry at this woman who mocked him at every step and followed him for reasons he couldn't understand.

"What is it?" Harpal asked too loudly, as if using the question as a wall or a defense.

"We have to get the crew together," Ariel said before Martin could speak.

"Slick it," Harpal said. "We could have died. We could have bought it while stuck in those goddamned fields."

"Most of us survived," Martin said.

"Jesus, I was right next to Sig," Harpal said. "It's never been that close for me. Whatever cooked him could have cooked me."

"I was next to Giorgio Livorno," Ariel said. "The moms have some explaining to do."

"The ship is damaged," Martin said.

"Tell them to fucking get it over with"Harpal screamed, tears streaking his cheeks. "Nobody should have died, or we all should have died!"

Martin and Ariel stood among the thick twisted pipes, the silence interrupted only by Harpal's faint, constrained, helpless weeping. Ariel glanced at Martin, put on a resigned look, and went to Harpal. She wrapped him in her arms and rocked him gently, eyebrows arched, lips puckered as if to croon a reassuring song to a child, and she meant it.

Martin was impressed. He could not have predicted this nurturing side of Ariel.

His wand chimed. The communications at least worked now. He answered and heard Cham.

"We've got problems," Cham said. Noise in the background; Hans shouting, weeping. "Hans is freaking."

Harpal wiped his face and pulled from Ariel's embrace. "Shit," he said. "Time to zip it." He crawled out of the curl of pipe. They laddered forward.

When they got to the schoolroom, Hans had left for his quarters. The ten bodies had been rearranged haphazardly on the floor, as if kicked. Five of the crew, including Jeanette Snap Dragon and Erin Eire, wore bruised faces. Half the crew had left. Martin felt sick foreboding; this was the beginning of something Theodore had talked about long ago, something Martin had refused to consider possible: the breaking strain.

Rosa Sequoia had stayed. Hans had not touched her. Now that Harpal, Hans, and Ariel had reappeared, she carefully rearranged the bodies, positioning their arms and legs, closing eyes that had opened, straightening the overalls.

Watching her pushed Martin very close to the edge, and he pulled himself back with considerable effort, swallowing, pinching his outer thigh until he bruised.

"What happened?" Harpal asked.

Cham nursed a cut cheek. "Wendys started mourning. Rosa led them. Hans told them to stop. They kept on, and a few Lost Boys joined in, started weeping, carrying on, and Hans… kicked them. David Aurora fought back and Hans really laid into him. David—"

"Where is he?" Ariel asked.

"He's fine. Cut, bruised, but as I was saying, he got some good licks in. Hans pulled out."

"Where is Aurora?" she asked again.

"In his quarters, I assume."

Martin could hardly bring himself to move. He shivered suddenly, casting away the paralysis of fugue, and said to Ariel, "Get water and make some bandages and help Rosa nurse the crew. Keep her away from the bodies."

"Right," Ariel agreed.

"I'm not Pan," Martin said, as if to make that clear; the crew in the schoolroom had focused on him with expectation when he spoke. "Harpal, find Hans and let's get all the past Pans together. I want a mom there."

"Who's ordering what?" Harpal asked, neither grim nor accusing.

"Sorry."

"Understood," Harpal said. "Let's go."

Ariel gently coaxed Rosa away, speaking to her softly; was she trying to impress him? He could not deal with that now. He allowed himself a few seconds of closed eyes, trying to push Theresa's remembered features into a complete portrait. The pieces would not combine.

He followed Harpal.

Hans had not locked his door. They entered his quarters, prepared for anything but what they found. He sat in the middle on a raised section of floor, sipping from a bulb of water, and greeted them with a weak smile.

"I've really slicked it," he said, almost cheerfully.

"That you have," Harpal agreed.

"Are you going to vote me out?" Hans asked.

"Why did you do it?" Martin asked.

Hans looked away. "They started keening. Women and men. I couldn't believe it, coming out and finding bodies. It was more than I could take. I'm sorry."