The Wendys were making garments from materials supplied by the moms. Thirty had gathered in Paola Birdsong's quarters; the door was open, and he entered. Theresa kneeled at the periphery of four women. Kimberly Quartz projected patterns from a wand onto a wide, bunched sheet of cloth on the floor. Theresa held one corner of the cloth, smoothing it as Paola drew on it with a blue marker. A few of the women noticed him, smiled politely. Paola glanced up, and then Theresa saw him. For a moment, he was afraid she would be angry, but she gave her corner of the billowing fabric to Kimberly Quartz and came to hug him.
"Time passes," she said. "Sorry I was late."
"No problem. I've been hitting brick walls."
"Can you wait just a few more minutes?"
He took a seat near the door and looked over Paola's quarters, which he had never been in before. She had covered her walls with paintings of jungles, wide green leaves, flowers, insects. A parrot flapped around the room, delighted by the view.
Only two children not at the meeting. It could have been much worse.
Martin shook out of his musings and saw the cutout pieces of cloth suspended in a translucent, colorless field for inspection. Other Wendys talking or singing or working on quilts started to break up and wander out now, nodding cordially to Martin as they passed.
"Come see," Theresa said. She manipulated the projected images of the pattern, assembling them in the air. Paola Birdsong and Donna Emerald Sea smiled as they watched their design take shape. Donna's cockatoo preened itself on a rack that held samples of cloth the moms could manufacture.
"It's a gown. This is what it will look like, when it's cut and sewn together," Paola told him, smoothing the sheet of fabric.
He had never paid much attention to her, but in Theresa's presence, he felt a sudden affection for her, and by extension for all the Wendys, and he regretted not having that kind of loose, undemanding, insightful affection.
"Paola and I designed it," Donna said. She was quick and nervous, with generous eyes and a small mouth and short blond hair.
The final design showed a long white gown covered with tiny glass beads, glittering magnificently in a rotating light unseen beyond the projection. "A ceremonial gown," Theresa said. She stepped into the projection.
"My turn," Paola said. Theresa adjusted it for the smaller woman.
"It's for when we find our new Earth, after we do the Job," Paola said. "The first Wendy to step on the planet will wear this. The wedding of the children to the new Earth. "
Martin had heard nothing of these plans and he found himself suddenly filled with emotion. "It's beautiful."
"Glad you like it," Theresa said. "Do you think the Lost Boys would like an outfit for their first step?"
"I don't know," he said. He had never given much thought to that time. Then, "We'd love them. Will everybody wear them?"
Donna looked at Theresa. "We were only making one…"
"Martin's right. Everybody will want them," Theresa said.
"Then we'd better plan more," Donna said. "A good excuse for more parties."
They tried a few more fittings, then Theresa made her farewells.
Martin escorted Theresa down a shadowed hall. They passed Rosa. She edged around them with a furtive nod. Martin wondered when he would have to talk with her, deal with her; she had few friends and no lovers. She was slowly opting out of their tight-knit society.
Theresa said, "It would be nice to make a gown for her," looking back at Rosa. "She needs something, Martin."
"I know."
Theresa took his earlobes in her fingers, pulling him lightly down to kiss her. "We're alone here," she said. "You've been very patient. Talking to everybody… It must have been difficult. Ariel can be tough."
Martin looked up and down the corridor. "Let's go… to my quarters," he said between her kisses.
"Why?" she asked, teasing with her hips.
"Because I'm shy. You know that."
"Somebody will see us?"
"Come on." He tugged her hand gently as he led the way.
"It's because you're Pan, isn't it?"
"Theresa…"
"All right," she said wistfully. "Nothing adventurous for a Pan's lover."
He frowned, then pulled her toward him and unsnapped her overalls. "You'll make me do anything, won't you? Shameless," he said into her ear.
"Somebody in this dyad has to be adventurous."
He kissed her while mulling over that word, dyad. They certainly were that; he had not called their relationship such, reserving the word for what he and William had had, but what he felt for Theresa deserved it more.
"Wedding dress," he said, holding her high to suckle.
"For all of us," Theresa said, eyes closed, grinding her hips against his stomach. "Lower me."
"Not yet. Not until you say I'm adventurous."
"You're adventurous."
Martin heard something, a breath or a rustle of cloth, and turned to see Rosa coming back. Her quarters were somewhere near here; they were in her path. She looked both sad and embarrassed, reversed, laddered back around the curve.
"Sorry," Theresa called after her. "It's your hall, too, Rosa."
But she was gone. Martin lowered Theresa and made a face.
"You were right," Theresa said, chagrined. "She's so shy… she didn't need to see us. But it's nothing to do with your being Pan." She pulled up her overalls. "Your quarters," she said.
He lay beside Theresa in the darkness, awash in an abandonment he had not known in some time. He was free of care, loose in body luxury, all demands satisfied or put aside where they would not nag. Theresa lay still, breathing shallow, but she was not asleep. He heard her eyelids opening and closing. Long, languid blinks. Such sated animals.
"Thank you," he said.
She caressed his leg with hers. "You're so quiet. Where are you?"
"I'm home," he said.
"Thinking about Earth?"
"No," he said. "I'm home. Here with you."
And it was true. For the first time in thirteen years, here in the darkness, he felt at home. Home was a few minutes between extreme worries and challenges; home was a suspension outside any place or time.
"That's sweet," Theresa said.
"I love you."
"I love you, Martin. But I'm not home. Not yet."
He pulled her to him. The moment was fleeting and he wanted to grab it but could not. Temporary, ineffable. Not home. No home.
Martin entered the nose dressed in exercise shorts, neck wrapped in a sweat towel. He had just worked out with Hans Eagle and Stephanie Wing Feather in the second homeball gym when Hakim signaled that they might have enough information to make the next decision.
The Dawn Treader'slong nose extended a hundred meters from the first homeball, a slender needle only three meters wide at the point. Hakim Hadj and three of the search team—Li Mountain, Thomas Orchard, and Luis Estevez Saguaro—kept station in the tip of the nose, surrounded by projections.
Transparent to visible light, the tip of the nose revealed a superabundant darkness, like an unctuous dye that could stain their souls.
The remotes, four thousand tiny sensors, had departed from the third homeball two days before, returning their signals to the Dawn Treaderusing the same point-to-point "no- channel" transmission their weapons and craft would use when outside the ship. Within a distance of ten billion kilometers, information simply "appeared" in a receiver, and could not be intercepted between; hence, no channel. The effective rate of transmission was almost instantaneous. The children called the no-channel transmissions noach.