She had not minced words during that first meeting. "The Cycler Compact has been reborn," she told them. "Erythrion is requested to restore its institutions to the standards of the Compact. In the months and years ahead, you will have the opportunity to return to your traditional roles in the administration of the Compact. In fact, Erythrion is critical to the rebirth of our great civilization. For we will be the first halo world in decades to begin launching new cyclers."
They had begun to come around, gradually. Then, as the news of the cycler mothers sank in, skepticism had changed to enthusiasm, then almost feverish excitement. The scattered worlds of the halo could be reunited. The shared experience of living in the interstellar fastness could reach everyone, no matter how remote. From being isolated colonies with no belief in a future, they could become explorers and settlers again. The offer was almost unbelievable; in a kind of desperation to prove it real, they were working day and night now to lay the groundwork for the return of the cyclers.
The argument behind Rue and Mike now reached a fever pitch, then broke in laughter. She turned. Corinna Chandra stood at the head of the table, waving to the text in a holo window. "That's it, then," she said. "The monks of Permanence will take charge of the cycler mother seed. We will see to its nurturing and growth."
There were nods around the table, some reluctant, some enthusiastic. Rue smiled at Corinna, who seemed to be beaming all the time, these days. Corinna had adopted the seed as if it were her own child, and she was fiercely protective of it. This new agreement was a good one; people still respected the monks, and they alone still controlled the myriad launch beams and power tethers that orbited Erythrion. The launch beams could double as weapons in a pinch, everyone knew that, so the monks' possession of the seed would not be threatened.
Everyone sat back, relaxing and talking excitedly. The cyclers could come again, and the psychological isolation of Erythrion would be ended. Even now Blair was in an editing suite preparing his records for broadcast. Rue had no doubt that they would be the most highly watched documentaries on the net for the next six months. By the time they had finished airing, the impact of what was now possible would have begun to sink in; Erythrion would begin to thaw from the long winter of the soul that had gripped it.
"Ten minute break," said the abbot of Treya's Permanence monastery. "Then we need to discuss Brother Bequith's dangerous new theology."
"Dangerous?" murmured Rue to Mike, who grinned. They headed for the door with the rest of the crowd, but the abbot stopped Mike.
"You have seen more of the universe than any of us, Brother," said the abbot seriously. "We know the grave discoveries you made about the life and death of civilizations. I just don't understand why such proof of the fragility of life hasn't convinced you that Permanence is our only hope. I mean… what can we possibly offer the people of our worlds that would be better than an eternal civilization?"
Mike looked the abbot in the eye and said, "Children. We can offer them children." Then he politely stepped around the abbot and into the hall.
Rue grabbed his arm as he walked, and laughed. "You're learning fast," she said.
"Learning? What?"
"How to be a prophet. Cryptic utterances are an essential part of the role, aren't they?"
He blushed slightly. "I just didn't want to get into it all right then."
Michael now believed that the theology of NeoShinto was incomplete. "It tries to make us one with the universe— and it succeeds. But I got lost in that oneness, and I suspect many people do. Your Supreme Meme taught me that the little inconsequential details of my everyday life are as real and valuable as everything else put together. In science they have a principle called complementarity: mass and energy are the same thing, but you can only have one at a time; a particle has momentum and position, but you can only see one of those at a time. So it is with our lives. We need to honor our sense of unity with the world, but we also need to honor our individuality. Both are true. Both are absolutes, and we have to nurture both if we're to survive on these worlds."
He had tried to explain the theology of it to her, but Rue wasn't really interested, and he knew that. "It's just…" he had said after a half hour's discussion, "just a new way to both accept mortality and throw yourself into life. Nothing's permanent. But everything can hand what's unique, what's best about itself, to what comes after."
"Like the Lasa?" she'd asked.
He nodded. "And like the Chicxulub."
They walked upstairs and into the gloriously hot artificial sunlight of the colony cylinder. This tiny world was a cylinder twenty kilometers long and four across. The land wrapped itself above to become sky, with an intolerably bright fusion lamp at the axis providing daylight for the parks and forests that dotted the inside of the cylinder. Rue and Mike went to sit on a bench under a shady tree, and after fumbling out her sunglasses she draped herself over the back of the seat and drank in the air. It was nearly as natural smelling as that of Chandaka. Things were peaceful here; among the distant clouds, people glided and swooped on diaphanous wings.
"One more meeting," said Rue. "Think they're ready to go it on their own for a while?"
"They'll have Corinna and Blair to keep them inspired," said Mike. "And we should be back in a few days, if all goes well."
"Excuse me."
Rue looked around. A rather officious looking woman in a gray suit stood on the path. "Are you, um, Meadow-Rue Rosebud Cassels?"
Rue stood up. "Yes, I am."
"My name is Alita Strong. I represent… your family."
"Represent?"
"I'm their lawyer." Rue continued to stare blankly at the woman, who finally said, "Surely you know that there are lawsuits outstanding against you, and… financial matters to be settled…"
"Financial…?"
"It took us a while to find you," continued Strong. "But I told my clients that a face-to-face talk with you would probably be the best way to resolve things. Have you got a few minutes?"
"What? Now?" Rue felt a strange flutter of nervousness. Politicians and generalissimos didn't scare her anymore, so why was her heart pounding at this development?
Strong was walking toward one of the campus buildings near the one Rue had rented. Rue turned to Mike, appealing to him for something, any sort of guidance.
He took her hand and said, "Let's go see, shall we?"
They followed Strong inside the building and down into a lounge below the surface. Two people were sitting on low couches there. Both stood as Rue came down the steps.
"Good morning, dear!" gushed Aunt Leda as she minced forward.
"Hi, Sis," said Jentry, who slouched with his hands in his pockets, not moving from his spot near the back of the lounge.
Time seemed to stop for Rue. There he was, and damned if he didn't look older. Shorter. Skinnier. Jentry was dressed in his usual station gear, rather gauche in the plush environment of the lounge.
There was no way to look him in the eye and not remember all the times he'd beat her. Rue remembered now, though, that there had never been any occasion when she hadn't fought back. And it was with a cool tingle of pleasure that she realized that after her military training on Oculus, she could beat him in a fair fight any day.
"Brother," she said in a sweet voice; she felt Mike's grip on her arm tighten. She extricated herself from that hold and went to embrace Aunt Leda. "Aunt Leda. How are you? I'm so sorry about Max."