Rissa looked at her, unsure what to say. Finally, she settled for simply repeating the word "ended," as if perhaps it, too, had been mistranslated.

"That is correct, good Rissa."

She was quiet again for a moment. "What crime did you commit?"

"It shames me to discuss it," said Boxcar.

Rissa said nothing, waiting to see if the Ib would go on.

She did not.

"I've shared a lot of intimate information about myself and my marriage with you," said Rissa lightly. "i'm your friend, Boxcar."

More silence; perhaps the Ib was wrestling with her own feelings. And then: "When I was a tertiary novice — a position somewhat similar to what you call a graduate student — I reported incorrectly the results of an experiment I was conducting."

Rissa's eyebrows rose again. "We all make mistakes, Boxcar. I can't believe they'd punish you this severely for that."

Boxcar's lights rippled in random patterns. Apparently, they were just signs of consternation; again, PHANTOM provided no verbal translation.

Then: "The results were not accidentally misreported." The Ib's mantle was dark for several seconds. "I deliberately falsified the data."

Rissa tried to keep her expression neutral. "Oh."

"I did not think the experiment was of great significance, and I knew — thought I knew, anyway — what the results should be. In retrospect, I realize I only knew what I wanted them to be." Darkness; a pause. "In any event, other researchers relied upon my results.

Much time was wasted."

"And for this they're going to execute you?"

All the lights on Boxcar's web came on at once — an expression of absolute shock. "It is not a summary execution, Rissa. There are only two capital crimes on Flatland: pod murder and forming a gestalt with more than seven components. My lifespan has simply been shortened."

"But — but if you're six hundred and five now, how long ago did you commit this crime?"

"I did it when I was twenty-four."

"PHANTOM, what Earth year would that have been?"

"^.). 1513, ma'am."

"Good God!" said Rissa. "Boxcar, surely they can't punish you for a minor offense committed that long ago."

"The passage of time has not changed the impact of what I did."

"But so long as you're aboard Starplex, you're protected by the Commonwealth Charter. You could claim asylum here. We could get you a lawyer."

"Rissa, your concern touches me. But I am prepared to pay my debt."

"But it was so long ago. Maybe they've forgotten."

"Ibs cannot forget; you know that. Because matrices form in our pod brains at a constant rate, we all have eidetic memories. But even if my compatriots could forget, it would not matter. I am honor bound in this."

"Why didn't you say anything about this earlier?"

"My punishment did not require public acknowledgment; I was allowed to live without constant shame. But the terms under which I work here require me to give you five days' notice if I intend to leave. And so now, for the first time in five hundred and eighty-one years, I am telling someone of my crime." The Ib paused. "If it is acceptable, I will use the remaining days of my life putting our research in order so that you and others may continue it without difficulty."

Rissa's head was swimming. "Um, yes," she said at last.

"Yes, that would be fine."

"Thank you," said Boxcar. She turned and started to roll toward the door, but then her web flashed once more. "You have been a good friend, Rissa."

And then the door slid open, Boxcar rolled away, and Rissa slumped back in her chair, dumbfounded. Chapter XII

Rissa came to the bridge, wanting to talk to Keith about Boxcar's announcement. But just as she was striding toward his workstation, Rhombus spoke up. "Keith, Jag, Rissa," he said, in his crisp, cool translated voice, "innumerable apologies for the interruption, but I think you should see this."

"What is it?" said Keith.

Rissa took a seat as Rhombus's ropes tickled his console.

A section of the holo bubble became framed off in blue. "I wasn't paying enough attention to the real-time scans, I'm afraid," said the Ib, "but I've been reviewing the data we've been recording, and — well, watch this. This is a playback speeded up one thousand times. What you're going to see in the next six minutes took almost all of the time we've been here to occur."

In the framed-off area was a dark-matter sphere, seen from almost directly above its equator. Actually, it wasn't anywhere near a perfect sphere: this one was flattened at the poles. Light and dark latitudinal cloud bands crossed its face.

According to the scale bars, this was one of the largest spheres they'd found, measuring 172,000 kilometers in diameter.

"Wait a minute," said Keith. "It's got cloud bands, yet it doesn't seem to be spinning at all."

Rhombus's web twinkled. "I hope the truth does not prove embarrassing, good Keith, but in fact, it's spinning faster than any other sphere we've yet observed. At this point, it's rotating on its axis once every two hours and sixteen minutes — almost five times as fast as Jupiter revolves. The speed is so great that any normal turbulence in the clOUds has been smoothed out.

And in this speeded-up playback, the image you're seeing is rotating every eight seconds." Rhombus snaked out a rope and flicked a control.

"Here, let me have the computer put a reference mark on the equator.

See that orange dot? It's at an arbitrary zero degrees of longitude."

The orange spot whipped across the equator, disappeared around back, reappeared four seconds later, and traversed the visible face again.

After a few cycles, Jag barked out, "Are you increasing the playback speed?"

"No, good Jag," said Rhombus. "Speed is constant."

Jag gestured at the digital clocks. "But that dot of yours took only seven seconds to go around that time."

"Indeed," said Rhombus. "The sphere's actual rate of rotation is increasing."

"How can that be?" asked Keith. "Are other bodies interacting with it?"

"Well, yes, the other spheres are all having an effect on it — but that's not the cause of what we're seeing," said Rhombus. "The increased rotation is internally generated."

Jag's head was bent down to his console, running quickie computer models. "You can't get increased spin unless you pump energy into the system. There must be some complex reactions going on inside the sphere, ultimately fueled by some outside source, and-" He looked up, and let out a high-pitched bark, which PHANTOM translated as "Expression of astonishment."

In the blue framed-off area, the dark-matter object had started-to pinch in at its equator. The northern and southern halves were no longer perfect hemispheres, but rather they curved in a little before they joined each other. The orange reference dot was now whipping around the smaller waist even faster than before.

As the sphere continued to rotate with increasing speed, the pinching-off became more and more pronounced. Soon the profile of the object had taken on a figure-eight shape.

Rissa rose to her feet, and stood staring, mouth agape.

The equator was now so narrow that the orange dot covered almost a quarter of its width. Rhombus touched some keys and the dot disappeared, replaced by separate orange dots on the equators of each of the two joined spheres.

The view in the frame went dark. "Please forgive this," said Rhombus.

"Another dark-matter sphere moved into our line of sight, obscuring the view. At this playback speed, we lose the picture for about fourteen seconds. Let me jump past that,"

Ropes touched the ExOps console. When the image reappeared, the two spheres were joined by only about a tenth of the original globe's diameter. Everyone watched, rapt, silence broken only by the gentle whir of the air-conditioning equipment, as the process reached its inevitable conclusion. The two spheres broke free from each other.