Martin entered alone, stared at the central sphere, and took a deep breath.
They were nine billion kilometers from their future companions, about two days from a merger. The two ships had matched courses and now edged slowly closer.
Harpal came in behind Martin. "Why so many?" he asked, sweeping his arm at the five spheres.
"Hans aims for effect," Martin said.
Hakim climbed along a ladder field, hooked his foot, and hung beside them. He did not smile. "Races over?" he asked.
Hans was making sure the crew was exhausted before bringing them into the schoolroom.
"Almost," Martin said. "Ten, fifteen minutes."
"It seems silly to me, all this exercise," Hakim said. "We could be doing science, anything but rolling like squirrels in a cage."
"Hans has his plans," Harpal said.
"Who's winning?" Jennifer called from across the schoolroom.
"Rex," Martin said carelessly. He climbed in closer to the main sphere. The image of the other Ship of the Law appeared distinct, about two hand-breadths wide, three eggs swallowed by a snake. "They don't look damaged," he said.
"The ship is smaller than Dawn Treaderused to be," Giacomo said. "About half the size. It must have taken some pretty substantial hits. I wonder where they fought? What they did?"
"I don't see any fuel cells," Harpal said.
A mom entered the schoolroom. They had seen so little of the moms in recent tendays that Martin was startled by it. "Hans has not made a tenday report," it said to Martin and Harpal, matter-of-factly, no judgment implied. "Is there something wrong?"
Martin swallowed; for Hans to ignore the tenday was… What? What did they expect? Hans had restructured the society of the Dawn Treader, just as the ship itself had been rebuilt. Why should anything surprise Martin?
Hakim looked to Martin, no sign of natural cheer or even excitement; eyes wary. Betray nothing.
"I don't think so," Martin said. He no longer wanted to play the advocate for the office of Pan, to defend Hans, to judge the situation in the best light. He could not ignore the knot in his stomach whenever he saw Hans' confident, strong features, or Rosa's intoxicated beatitude.
"There is information to be presented to the crew," the mom said. "I am here to report. Is a meeting scheduled?",
"Yes," Martin said.
"Hans shouldn't shirk the reports," Harpal muttered.
"There are problems?" the mom asked. Martin's embarrassment turned to anger in a flash and he crossed his arms, shook his head.
"No problems," he said. Nothing I can pin down in words. Hans does nothing overt; the worst he does is change things without consulting us… and why should he? The crew follows him almost without question. He doesn't act like a tyrant; he just glowers, and that's enough.
We're back to being children again. Hans is Daddy; Rosa is Mommy. So what will we call the moms now? Auntie?
We're one big happy family.
"When will the crew convene?" the mom asked.
"In a few minutes," Hakim said.
"I will wait."
The Wendys and Lost Boys started filing in a half hour later, sweating and flushed. Hans had insisted on trying new sports in the weightless conditions. Three or four had arms in makeshift slings. They gathered in loose groups, no longer according to family or namesake; Hans had dissolved those connections.
Hans and Rex came in last.
All eyes turned to the spheres, weary, interested but shielding responses.
Hakim began his description: the second ship's length, mass, the approximate amount of fuel it carried. He glanced nervously at the mom, wondering if it would merely repeat what he was saying. He seemed to fear becoming redundant; Hans seldom conferred with the search team.
"I think the mom has something to tell us," Hans said when Hakim stammered into silence. Hakim nodded and backed away.
"We will now prepare you for the meeting with your new partners," the mom said. "Noach communications have been established with this Ship of the Law, which is called Journey Houseby its crew. We have many more details. May I take control" of the displays?"
"Of course," Hans said.
The first image in the spheres puzzled the crew: a long black cable. Martin had to concentrate to understand what he was seeing. The first guess would have been a tentacle, or perhaps a snake, but close inspection showed that this was more than an individual being. The image moved, and the crew reacted with shock.
The cable disassembled into a squirming pile of serpents, and then quickly reassembled. Martin wondered whether this was a simulation or the image of a real creature.
"These are colonial intelligences," the mom said. "Such a configuration is not unusual. Many worlds support bionts that combine to form larger bionts, even in more advanced evolutionary phases. Your new partners are of this type. Between ten and twenty components come together to form an intelligent individual. The components"—A single blunt-ended tube with grasping hooks at one end and millipede-like feet at the other—"are seventy to eighty centimeters long, and are not in themselves intelligent, though they perform many social and practical roles. The components are responsible for gathering food, though not for agriculture or preparing food. They are responsible for reproduction and nurture, their offspring. When the offspring are mature, they are instructed in the basics of forming combinations, and these combinations are then raised and educated by fully mature aggregates."
More images: aggregates ranging in size (a human silhouette for comparison) from two meters long, comprising ten intertwined components, to five meters, and fifty centimeters to a meter thick.
"They are oxygen breathers. An atmosphere conducive to both species, human and aggregates, will be maintained in all common areas of the ship, though separate quarters will also be available."
Martin glanced at Hans. Not a hint of shrewd speculation, not a trace of anything but shock. Here was strangeness that exceeded Hans' expectations.
"Their foodstuffs are not edible for humans, nor is your food sufficient for their needs. Contact is not dangerous, provided certain rules are followed. Components must not be molested or impeded in their duties; they can't respond socially beyond a limited-—"
"Like my wanger," Rex Live Oak cracked. Some of the crew laughed nervously.
"A limited range of interactions with their kind, guided largely by instinct. Components can be dangerous if they are molested. They can inflict a painful bite. We do not yet know how toxins for this species might affect humans—"
"Christ, they're poisonous?" Rex asked, astonished.
"That is a possibility. But they will not attack unless severely molested. Aggregates are highly intelligent, capable of complex social interactions. We are confident they can mimic human speech better than humans can learn their methods of communication, which are chemical and auditory. To your senses, their variety of smells should be pleasant."
The promise of pleasant smell wasn't cutting much ice. The crew looked on the images with open mouthed amazement and half-controlled revulsion.
"What do we call them?" Ariel asked.
"Good question," Erin Eire commented. "I don't think calling them snakes is a good idea."
"Or worms," Jeanette Snap Dragon added.
"What in hell are they?" someone else asked.