Gods have plans, too.

- Morgan Oakes, The Diaries

FOR A long time, Panille lay quietly beside Hali in the treedome, watching the plaz-filtered light draw radial beams on the air above the cedar tree. He knew Hali had been hurt by his rejection and he wondered why he did not feel guilty. He sighed. There was no sense in running away; this was the way he had to be.

Hali spoke first, her voice low, tentative.

"Nothing's changed, is it?"

"Talking about it doesn't change it," he said. "Why did you ask me out here - to revive our sexual debate?"

"Couldn't I just want to be with you for a while?"

She was close to tears. He spoke softly to avoid hurting her even more.

"I'm always with you, Hali." With his left hand he lifted her right hand, pressed the tips of his fingers against the tips of her fingers. "Here. We touch, right?"

She nodded like a child being coaxed from a tantrum.

"Which is we and which the material of our flesh?"

"I don'...."

He held their fingertips a few centimeters apart.

"All the atoms between us oscillate at incredible speeds. They bump into each other and shove each other around." He tapped the air with a fingertip, careful to keep from touching her.

"So I touch an atom; it bumps into the next one; that one nudges another, and so on unti...." He closed the gap and brushed her fingertips. "...we touch and we were never separate."

"Those are just words!" She pulled her hand away from him.

"Much more than words, you know it, Med-tech Hali Ekel. We constantly exchange atoms with the universe, with the atmosphere, with food, with each other. There's no way we can be separated."

"But I don't want just any atoms!"

"You have more choice than you think, lovely Hali."

She studied him out of the corners of her eyes. "Are you just making these things up to entertain me?"

"I'm serious. Don't I always tell you when I make up something?"

"Do you?"

"Always, Hali. I will make up a poem to prove it." He tapped her wire ring lightly. "A poem about this."

"Why're you telling me your poems? You usually just lock them up on tapes or store them away in those old-fashioned glyph books of yours."

"I'm trying to please you in the only way I can."

"Then tell me your poem."

He brushed her cheek beside the ring, then:

"With delicate rings of the gods

in our noses

we do not root in their garden."

She stared at him, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"An ancient Earthside practice. Farmers put rings in the noses of their pigs to keep the pigs from digging out of their pens. Pigs dig with their noses as well as their feet. People called that kind of digging 'rooting.'"

"So you're comparing me to a pig."

"Is that all you see in my poem?"

She sighed, then smiled as much at herself as at Kerro. "We're a fine pair to be selected for breeding - the poet and the pig!"

He stared at her, met her gaze and, without knowing why, they were suddenly giggling, then laughing.

Presently, he lay back on the duff. "Ahhh, Hali, you are good for me."

"I thought you might need some distraction. What've you been studying that keeps you so shut away?"

He scratched his head, recovered a brown twig of dead cedar. "I've been rooting into the 'lectrokelp."

"That seaweed the Colony's been having all the trouble with? Why would that interest you?"

"I'm always amazed at what interests me, but this may be right down my hatchway. The kelp, or some phase of it, appears to be sentient."

"You mean it thinks?"

"More than tha.... probably much more."

"Why hasn't this been announced?"

"I don't know for sure. I came across part of the information by accident and pieced together the rest. There's a record of other teams sent out to study the kelp."

"How did you find this report?"

"Wel.... I think it may be restricted for most people, but Ship seldom holds anything back from me."

"You and Ship!"

"Hal...."

"Oh, all right. What's in this report?"

"The kelp appears to have a language transmitted by light but we can't understand it yet. And there's something even more interesting. I can't find out if there's a current project to contact and study this kelp."

"Doesn't Shi...."

"Ship refers me to Colony HQ or to the Ceepee, but they don't acknowledge my inquiries."

"That's nothing new. They don't acknowledge most inquiries."

"You been having trouble with them, too?"

"Just that Medical can't get an explanation for all the gene sampling."

"Gene sampling? How very curious."

"Oakes is a very curious and very private person."

"How about someone on the staff?"

"Lewis?" Her tone was derisive.

Kerro scratched his cheek reflectively.

"The 'lectrokelp and gene sampling. Hali, I don't know about the gene samplin.... that has a peculiar stink to it. But the kel...."

She interrupted, excited: "This creature could have a sou.... and it could WorShip."

"A soul? Perhaps. But I thought when I saw that record: 'Yes! This is why Ship brought us to Pandora.'"

"What if Oakes knows that the 'lectrokelp is the reason we're here?"

Panille shook his head.

She gripped his arm. "Think of all the times Oakes has called us prisoners of Ship. He tells us often enough that Ship won't let us leave. Why won't he tell us why Ship brought us here?"

"Maybe he doesn't know."

"Ohhh, he knows."

"Well, what can we do about it?"

She spoke without thinking: "We can't do anything without going groundside."

He pulled his arm away from her and dug his fingers into the humus. "What do we know about living groundside?"

"What do we know about living here?"

"Would you go down to the Colony with me, Hali?"

"You know I would bu...."

"Then let's apply fo...."

"They won't let me go. The groundside food shortage is critical; there are health problems. They've just increased our workload because they've sent some of our best people down."

"We're probably imagining monsters that don't exist, but I'd still like to see the 'lectrokelp for myself."

A high-pitched hum blurted from the ever-present pribox on the ground beside Hali. She pressed the response key.

"Hal...." There was a clatter, a buzz. Presently, the voice returned. "Sorry I dropped you. This is Winslow Ferry. Is that Kerro Panille with you, Hali?"

Hali stifled a laugh. The bumbling old fool could not even put in a call without stumbling over something. Kerro was caught by the direct reference to someone being with Hali. Had Ferry been listening? Many shipside suspected that sensors and portable communications equipment had been adapted for eavesdropping but this was his first direct clue. He took the pribox from her.

"This is Kerro Panille."

"Ahhh, Kerro. Please report to my office within the hour. We have an assignment for you."

"An assignment?"

There was no response. The connection had been broken.

"What do you suppose that's all about?" Hali asked.

For answer, Kerro drew a blank page from his notebook, scribbled on it with a fade-stylus, then pointed to the pribox. "He was listening to us."

She stared at the note.

Kerro said: "Isn't that strange? I've never had an assignment befor.... except study assignments from Ship."

Hali took the stylus from him, wrote: "Look out. If they do not want it known that the kelp thinks, you could be in danger."

Kerro stood, blanked the page and restored it to his case. "Guess I'd better wander down to Ferry's office and find out what's happening."

They walked most of the way back in silence, intensely aware of every sensor they passed, of the pribox at Hali's hip. As they approached Medical, she stopped him.

"Kerro, teach me how to speak to Ship."

"Can't."

"Bu...."

"It's like your genotype or your color. Except for certain clones, you don't get much choice in the matter."

"Ship has to decide?"

"Isn't that always the way, even with you? Do you respond to everyone who wants to talk to you?"

"Well, I know Ship must be very busy wit...."

"I don't think that has anything to do with it. Ship either speaks to you or doesn't."

She digested this for a moment, nodded, then: "Kerro, do you really talk to Ship?"

There was no mistaking the resentment in her voice.

"You know I wouldn't lie to you, Hali. Why're you so interested in talking to Ship?"

"It's the idea of Ship answering you. Not the commands we get over the 'coders, bu...."

"A kind of unlimited encyclopedia?"

"That, yes, but more. Does Ship talk to you through the 'coders?"

"Not very often."

"What is it like whe....?"

"It's like a very distinctive voice in your head, just a bit clearer than your conscience."

"That's it?" She sounded disappointed.

"What did you expect? Trumpets and bells?"

"I don't even know what my conscience sounds like!"

"Keep listening." He brushed a finger against her ring, kissed her quickly, brotherly, then stepped through the hatch into the screening area for Ferry's office.