"All genetic engineers learn to cook," she said, forcing herself to finish the coffee. "I got my start developing a thick-shelled egg plant with a double yolk for a company on Mercury. I learned a thousand ways to cook eggs so I could save on food bills and not get sick of eating them. But you really don't have any idea of why he wanted me here?"

"Maybe an idea. Most of the people here are planetary specialists, physicists, inorganic chemists, mechanical engineers, and so forth. Once every couple of months we've been running a skimmer through the atmosphere of Jupiter. We've been picking up some living organisms. They probably want you to work on that."

Lilo was fascinated, but still puzzled. It had long been known that Jovian life existed, but no one had ever studied it.

"Why me? My field isn't so much analysis as restructuring."

Cathay shrugged. "I'm not the one to ask. But don't get the idea there's anything like pure research up here. Whatever they have you doing, it'll be aimed at defeating the Invaders."

"It still doesn't sound like they would want my skills."

Cathay stood up. "What can I tell you? Tweed is sometimes more interested in the person than in the skills. That's why he robs prisons, I'm told. He wants the oddball, not the committee mind. In a way, it's like picking a gear for a machine because of its pretty color instead of because it has the right number of teeth."

"Which sounds like a hell of a way to run an army. Where are you going?"

"Out to play." He grinned. "Making my rounds. I have seventy-three pupils up here—now don't look so surprised, things are different here—and one of them is my very own second child. Ah ha! Now I've scandalized you."

"No, I... I'm surprised. It'll take some getting used to. Do you mind if I tag along?" Lilo had been telling the truth; she was not scandalized, but it was a shock to hear that the most basic rule of human civilization—One Person, One Child—was being violated: that an entire community of people was breeding as it wished.

They took the elevator to the hub of the cylindrical room, then entered the corridors and moved along with easy pushes of feet and hands against the walls. Lilo was getting good at it.

She had not seen that many children. The reason, she soon found out, was that they spent most of their time in the dead areas. Cathay grabbed a lamp and she followed him through one of the nullfield barriers. Soon they began to hear voices over their radios. Then they started to encounter them, in groups of two or three, intent on their own business. They seemed to like Cathay, enough so they would tolerate being introduced to a strange woman. But she had a growing sense that they had their own society down here in the abandoned caverns. Elaborate fantasies were being played out, drawn from television broadcasts and educational comics, having little to do with reality.

They were strange children. But then, she thought, they would have to be different. Many of them were growing up with brothers or sisters. How different that could make a child Lilo could barely imagine. And she finally did get a real shock when she saw one child strike a smaller one. Cathay did nothing, so she started to move in.

"Leave them alone," Cathay warned. "There's nothing you can do about that."

"But..."

"I know. It was very hard for me at first. But look. It's settled, isn't it?"

The fight had not gone very far, she was glad to see. But she felt strongly that the smaller one had been wronged, and said so.

"Of course he was. And he had to demean himself, back away from the fight, because he's little. You've got to understand that I'm the only teacher for this entire group. I can do just so much, and I've found I should concentrate on teaching them to resolve their own conflicts. It's rough justice, but so far no one's been killed." Lilo began to understand just how different these children were.

Cathay had been a victory of sorts for the people of Poseidon. It did not show too much on the surface, but Poseidon had an extremely brutal social order. Its inhabitants had come there through abduction, or as the only alternative to death. Once there, they quickly understood that they were expected to work, and that little else mattered. The only rules were to do what you were told, and not attempt to escape. The only punishment for infractions was death.

Other than that, Tweed did not care what they did. The Vaffas conducted a constant patrol for evidence of someone trying to build a rocket drive or a radio. The first was so difficult and would take so much time and stealth that it had only been attempted once. The second was suicide, though Tweed did not rule it out. It was true that if the Eight Worlds ever heard about Poseidon, Tweed should be damned. But it would also mean the death of everyone living there. Even the abductees were illegal clones. The confederation would have to dispose of them, regretfully, because only one person could legally exist with any given set of genes. Vaffa had never found a transmitter.

The pace of research was slow. Tweed had no intention of advertising his presence to the Invaders and the Jovians. Jupiter was watched constantly with every instrument known to science, and from time to time a probe was sent into the atmosphere. The scientists on Poseidon knew more about the giant planet than anyone in the system, but it was still not much.

The second aspect of the work on Poseidon was the search for new weapons that might be effective in the future war with the Invaders.

There was a lot of free time. The inmates were free to spend it as they wished. Eventually they began to have children, as it became clear they were there for the rest of their lives. And in time, someone had the radical notion that she didn't need to stop with one child.

Tweed had been delighted. He even sent a sociologist to study the only unlimited-breeding society outside the Rings. He hoped to use what he learned as a template for the society to come, on Earth, after the defeat of the Invaders.

But the children had caused the only organized resistance that ever had any effect. The parents got together and told Tweed they wanted teachers, or there would be no more work. The first and only strike was organized. They asked for twenty teachers. What they got was Cathay, and a promise that if they ever went on strike again they would all be killed. Tweed could do it and replace them all with a second set of clones exactly like them, but he was reluctant to do so. It would mean the loss of knowledge and skills acquired by the inmates since their last recordings.

"They tried to persuade me to be cloned, like Vaffa," Cathay said. "I'm sure it's the practical solution, but I couldn't do it. The whole idea made me sick. I don't want to be a dozen people."

"You don't have to explain it to me," Lilo said, with a shiver. "It gives me the creeps, too."

A group of five silvery children came rocketing down the corridor. They stopped long enough for Cathay to introduce them.

"...Olympica, Cypris, and the tiny one over there is Iseult. The handsome one standing over there is my child, Cass."

Cass was a tall child. Lilo guessed his age at about twelve, then had to look closely to be sure if he was a boy, while wondering if it would ever be easy to see people whose bodies were curved mirrors. She was getting anxious to be inside again, in the air. She had not seen the faces of any of the children, only twisted reflections.

Cathay noticed her discomfort and led her back through the maze to the inhabited corridors. Lilo took a deep breath—her first in over an hour.

There was a male Vaffa waiting for them. He was idly patting his holstered weapon, and seemed to know who he was looking for.

"You're to start work this shift," he said. "Follow me, and I'll show you what I want done."