Chapter 32

"So you see it?" Meiersdottir demanded of her husband. "It's not perfect, nothing like, but it'll work, won't it?"

Igwanda narrowed his eyes in thought. "If they can do it, I see no reason why not," he opined after a time. "The question, of course, is whether in fact they can do it."

"They can make Joes, to meet us," she said enthusiastically. "They can make Akakhas to be guards. Joe told us once every single one is made with a purpose, remember? God only knows how they do it, but think about that egg Joe started in the nest. She told us right then it'd be another Joe, before it was anything more than a newly fertilized egg. So why not this?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea," he said. "But you are asking the wrong person. It is to Gagugakhing that you should be posing the question."

"Right!" she agreed. "So how about let's go do that?"

"When?"

"Well, now. Or no, you're right"—he had said nothing at all—"not now, not yet. It's too half-baked, I'm getting carried away. But it's so damn exciting! I've been wracking my brain about the problem and coming up with zilch and then your miss feminist just pops up and cuts the Gordian knot with one stroke of her edgy little tongue. Oh, I love it! But I ought to run it by Terry, and Ram and Cory, and maybe some of those back on the ship, too, huh?"

The colonel smiled indulgently at her. "It would probably be wise," he said. "You might also want to inquire of Joe about the extent of their eugenic control, to the degree at least that he can speak of it."

"Good point," she said. "I think a lot of that's nest-think for them, but he might know more, I can ask."

For the balance of the day Meiersdottir was extraordinarily busy, moving from one group to another, consulting with all those she'd named and many more besides. She spent nearly half an hour with Joe, asking both Singh and Sviatoslavski to join them briefly, and an hour or more alone with her subordinate O'Brian. Then in the evening she was on her communicator so long that it was finally Hill who issued the call to supper, and even then she spoke a few minutes further.

"What the hell did you say to her that got her so worked up?" Edmundson asked Accorda after they'd finished their talks with their new shipboard counterparts—Zo had assigned pairings—describing their experiences of the day.

"I don't know, Helm," she answered. "I have absolutely no fuckin' idea. You know how I get going about feminism"—he made a face—"OK, so it's not your thing, you got a pecker and I got a snatch, and so what is how I see it. Anyhow, I was going on about that a little, talking about young girls who decide to wait to have kids, and then she was off like a rocket."

"Well, it's a good idea to wait for children, I go with you that far," said Edmundson. "The colonel's wife did that, too, she has to be close to forty. Good sense to me, I'm twenty-eight and I don't think I'm ready to be a father yet. But why does that get her panties in a wad?"

"Does it twist your balls not to know?" she asked pointedly. He winced at the image. "Sexist pig metaphors. Anyhow, I got not a clue. You ask her, I'm not going to."

But giving the lie to her words she in fact did, indirectly. When Meiersdottir was finally off the communicator and standing with her husband holding a late cocktail, Accorda made a point of casually approaching her.

"Good evening, ma'am, sir," she began tentatively.

"Simone!" Meiersdottir exclaimed. "I've been talking about you all day, well, most of it."

"Good evening, Accorda," said the colonel a little more formally. "You seem to have inspired my wife."

"Thank you, sir," she replied with a baffled expression.

Meiersdottir turned to her husband. "Carlos, can she come with us tomorrow?" she asked. "It's her idea, hell, her cause, as it were, she ought to be there to take credit."

Igwanda looked at her askance. "She is very new to Eden, my love, and that would be a very large step, are you sure?"

She nodded. "I know she's yours, but she really ought to be there."

"As you wish," he acquiesced. "Please brief her thoroughly first. Accorda, in the morning you are to report to me immediately after breaking your fast. You will receive further instructions then."

More puzzled than ever, Accorda could only respond "yes, sir." Whatever the morning might bring would have to await its coming.