Man also knows not his time: as the fishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the snare; so are the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falls suddenly upon them.

- Christian Book of the Dead, Shiprecords

FOR A long time after returning to Ship from the Hill of Skulls, Hali could not find the will to leave the room. She stared up and around at the softly illuminated space - this secret place where Kerro had spent so many hours communing with Ship. She remembered the borrowed flesh of the old woman, the painful and halting steps. The ache of aging shoulders. A feeling of profound sensitivity to her familiar body pervaded her awareness; each tiny movement became electric with immediacy.

She remembered the man who had been nailed to the rigid cross-piece on the hill. Barbaric!

Yaisuah.

She whispered it: "Yaisuah."

It was understandable how this name had evolved into that of Jesu.... and even to the Hesoos of Jesus Lewis.

But nowhere could she find understanding of why she had been taken to witness that agonizing scene. Nowhere. And she found it odd that she had never encountered historical records of that faraway event - not in Ship's teachings nor in the memories of Shipmen who came from Earth.

In the first moments of her return, she had asked Ship why she had been shown that brutal incident, and had received an enigmatic response.

Because there are things from the human past that no creature should forget.

"But why me? Why now?"

The rest was silence. She assumed that the answers were her own to find.

She stared at the com-console. The seat there at the instruction terminal was her seat now; she knew it. Kerro was gon.... groundside. Ship had introduced her to this place, had given it to her.

The message was clear: No more Kerro Panille here.

A shuddering wave of loss shot through her, and she shook tears from her eyes. This was no place to stay now. She stood, took up her pribox and slipped out the way she had entered.

Why me?

She wound her way out of softwares and into D passage leading back to Medical, into the workings of Ship's body.

The beep of her pribox startled her.

"Ekel here," she said, surprised at the youthfulness of her own voice - not at all like the ancient quavering of that old woman's voice she had borrowed.

Her pribox crackled, then: "Ekel, report to Dr. Ferry's office."

She found a servo and, instead of walking, rode to Medical.

Ferry, she thought. Could it mean reassignment? Could I be joining Kerro groundside?

The thought excited her, but the idea of groundside duty remained fearful. So many nasty rumors. And lately, all groundside assignments seemed permanent. Except for the tight-knit political circle at Medical, no one made the return trip. Pressures of work had kept her from thinking much about this before, but suddenly it became vital.

What are they doing with all our people?

The drain on equipment and food from Ship was a topic for constant anxious conversation; recurrent dayside orders exhorted greater production effort.... but few speculated about missing people.

We've been conditioned not to face the finality of absolute endings. Is that why Ship showed me Yaisuah?

The thought stood there in her awareness, riding on the hum of the servo carrying her toward Medical and Ferry.

It was clear to her that Yaisuah had ended, but his influence had not ended. Pandora was a place of endings. It gulped food and people and equipment. What influences were about to be sent reverberating from that place?

Endings.

The servo fell silent, stopped. She looked up to see Medical's servo gate and, across the passage, the hatch to Ferry's offices. She did not want to go through that hatch. Her body still throbbed with sensitivities ignited by what Ship had shown her. She did not want Ferry touching her body. It was more than her dislike for him - the silly old fool! He drank too much of the alcohol which came up from Colony and he always reached out to put a hand on her somewhere.

Everyone knew the Demarest woman brought him his wine from groundside. He always had plenty of it after her visits.

His food chits can't support that kind of drinking.

She stared at the dogged hatch across the way. Something was definitely wrong - shipside and groundside. Why did Rachel Demarest bring wine up to Ferry?

If she brings him wine, what does she get in return?

Love? Why not? Even neurotics like Ferry and Demarest needed love. O.... if not love, at least an occasional couch partner.

A remembered image of Foul-breath shuddered through her mind. She could almost feel the touch of his hand translated to her own young flesh. Involuntarily, she brushed her arm.

Maybe that's how they get so foul. No lov.... no lovers.

There was no evading the summons, though. She slid off the servo and crossed to Ferry's hatch. It snicked open at her approach. Why was she reminded of a sword leaving its scabbard?

"Ahhh, dear Hali." Ferry opened his palms to her as she entered.

She nodded. "Dr. Ferry."

"Sit down wherever you like." His hand rested on the arm of a couch, inviting her to the place beside him. She chose a seat facing him, cleared off the mess of papers and computer discs that covered it. The whole office smelled sour in spite of Ship's air filtration. Ferry appeared to be drun.... at least happy.

"Hali," he said, and recrossed his legs so one foot reached out to touch hers. "You're being reassigned."

Again, she nodded. Groundside?

"You're going to the Natali," Ferry said.

It was totally unexpected, and she blinked at him stupidly. To the Natali? The elite corps which handled all natural births had never been her ambition. Not even her hope. A dream, ye.... but she was not the type to hope for the impossible.

"How do you feel about that?" Ferry asked, moving her foot with his.

The Natali! Working daily with the sacrament of WorShip!

She nodded to herself as the reality of it seeped through her. She would join the elite who opened the hatchway to the mystery of lif.... she would help rear the children shipside until they were assigned to their own schools and quarters at the age of seven annos.

Ferry smiled a red-stained smile. "You look stunned. Don't you believe me?"

She spoke slowly. "I believe you. I suspected that thi...." She waved a hand at his office. "...was for reassignment, bu...."

Ferry made no move to respond, so she went on.

"I thought I'd be going groundside. Everyone seems to be going there, lately."

He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them.

"You're not happy with this assignment?"

"Ohhh, I'm very happy with it. It's jus...." She put a hand to her throat. "I never though......mea.... Why me?"

"Because you deserve it, my dear." He chuckled. "And there's talk of moving the Natali groundside. You may get the best of both worlds."

"Groundside?" She shook her head. Too many shocks were coming at her one after the other.

"Yes, groundside." He spoke as though explaining something simple to an errant child.

"But I though.... I mean, the foremost provision of WorShip is that we give our children to Ship until they're seven. Ship designated the Natali as the trustees of birt.... and their quarters are here, the estat...."

"Not Ship!" Ferry's interruption was guttural. "Some Ceepee did it. This is a matter for our determination."

"But doesn't Shi...."

"There's no record of Ship doing this. Now, our Ceepee has ruled that it is no violation of WorShip to move the Natali ground-side."

"Ho.... how lon.... unti.... ?"

"Perhaps a Pandoran anno. You know - quarters, supplies, politics." He waved it all off.

"When do I go to the Natali?"

"Next diurn. Take a break. Get your things moved over. Talk tooo...." He picked up a note from the jumble on his desk, squinted. "...Usija. She'll take care of you from there."

His foot brushed the back of her heel, then rubbed her instep.

"Thank you, Doctor." She pulled her foot back.

"I don't feel your gratitude."

"But I do thank you, especially for the time off. I have some notes to catch up on."

He held up an empty glass. "We could have a drin.... to celebrate."

She shook her head, but before she could say no, he leaned forward, grinning.

"We'll be neighbors, soon, Hali. We could celebrate that."

"What do you mean?"

"Groundside." He pushed the glass toward her. "After the Natali go.

"But who'll be left here?"

"Production facilities, mostly."

"Ship? A factory?" She felt her face blaze red.

"Why not? What other use will we have for Ship when we're groundside?"

She jumped to her feet. "You would lobotomize your own mother!" Whirling from his startled gaze, she fled.

All the way back to her quarters, she heard the drum of Yaisuah's voice in her ears: "If they do these things in a green tree, what will they do in a dry?"