Even amid the confusion and turmoil of the last twenty-four hours, Juli felt peaceful watching him sleep. His presence had a gravity that relaxed her, made her slow down in spite of the frantic pace of her thoughts--and they had been relentless until now, pursuing her all the way back to the Dämmerung.

She had returned here yesterday with Miyuki and the others, after they answered the distress call from the Astraea. Since then, Juli had stopped by the maintenance lab whenever she had a few minutes to herself--when she wasn't answering urgent calls from her contacts in the government or assessing the situation in Second Miltia--to monitor the progress on his repairs.

She went back to check on him one last time before the meeting began. Helmer had requested her presence during the negotiations, but she was nervous and still uncertain about attending. The charges against her had been suspended in light of the new evidence that had surfaced on the AMN last night, but it would take more than that to sway popular opinion, and from a publicity standpoint, today's meeting was a poor choice for her first official appearance after the incidents; it would only support her reputation as an Ormus sympathizer. And that wasn't the only reason she felt uncomfortable. Aside from the Second Miltian parliament, the only other representatives from the Federation Government would be military personnel, including Captain Roman--who had at least as many misgivings as Juli did, if not more.

She dismissed her concerns for the moment and sat down on a chair she had pulled up alongside the maintenance box. It was cold in the lab, and the hard gray lighting made it feel even colder. Shivering, she tugged at the front of her overcoat and moved the chair closer, resting her head next to his. The sound of his breathing made her feel calmer; she closed her eyes for a few seconds, and woke with a start as the door opened behind her.

"Oh--pardon me," said Doctus. "I didn't know you were in here. I'll leave you alone."

"It's all right." Juli sat up slowly; her head felt heavy. She checked the time on her connection gear and saw that she had only fallen asleep for a minute or two; she still had time before the meeting.

"How is he?"

Juli sighed. "Not much better."

Doctus walked over to the front of the maintenance unit and stood staring down at him, and Juli tried not to look up at her--at least, not in a way that she'd notice. Juli had spent the last few years living with two individuals who were constantly aware of her location as long as she stayed within their range, and it occurred to her that Doctus would have been able to trace her signal from across the hallway, if her observational faculties were anything like a Realian's. For someone who professed to uphold her own abstract vision of the truth, and expected others to do the same, Doctus told more white lies than any politician Juli had ever met. But Juli had told her share as well, and she supposed it was just a consequence of finding out, as those in positions of authority inevitably did, how far the truth could bend without breaking. The truth would only set you free if you knew how to turn it to your advantage.

Juli pulled up another screen on her connection gear and pretended to scroll back through an article she had read earlier. "By the way," she said, "I've just heard an interesting bit of news. It seems the report on Nov-OS and the DIRE that was uploaded to the AMN last night turns out not to have been published by an anonymous whistleblower within the company, as many of the news sources originally speculated. Now they're saying it was an outsider, probably an expert hacker who managed to get into the database somehow. But they're clueless as to who did it, or what their personal motives were."

Doctus' expression was unreadable as always, and any reaction she might have had remained hidden behind those lenses, which had always reminded Juli of an insect's eyes. "You're welcome."

Juli turned off the screen and slid the connection gear back into her pocket. When she looked again, Doctus still stood in the same place, and her expression hadn't changed, but her lips moved as if she were talking to herself.

"Beyond this place of wrath and tears lies but the horror of the shade," said Doctus, at a volume just above a whisper, "and yet the menace of the years finds and shall find me unafraid."

Now Juli stared at her without bothering to hide her curiosity. "Was that a prayer?"

Doctus shook her head. "Just something I read once."

"Oh." She lowered her eyes, and her gaze settled on the still planes of his face. "Do you think he ...." But she stopped, because she didn't want to know the answer to the question she was about to ask. "I hate to leave him here, but I should be getting ready for the meeting now."

Doctus understood without her having to explain. "I'll watch him for a while, Dr. Mizrahi."

"Thank you." Juli got up and edged past her to the door, and for a moment both women stood facing each other at opposite ends of an awkward silence.

Recognition flashed on Doctus' face for a moment. "Oh, you think--" She actually laughed then, and shook her head. "Dear god, no. It was strictly professional, you understand. I never-- Well, you know how these things are."

"Yes, I .... Right, of course. I'll be going now." She exited as gracefully as she could, then stood staring at the door after it had closed behind her. "Unbelievable," she muttered, shaking her head, as she made her way to the elevator.

When she stepped out of the elevator on the upper level, she found MOMO and Alby waiting in the hallway.

"Still the same," said Juli, answering MOMO's question before she had a chance to ask.

"I was just on my way down to visit him," said MOMO. Her gaze wandered farther down the hall, where Alby had picked up a trail of some sort and trotted off to investigate. "I thought maybe it would make him feel better if ... I mean, I thought maybe Alby and I could keep him company. Are you going to the meeting now?"

"Soon. Where's Captain Roman?"

"Taking a break, I think. She went somewhere with Miyuki." MOMO looked back at her, and Juli could practically read the questions that flashed across her face. They were the same questions Juli didn't dare ask herself, the nameless concerns she was afraid to put into words, in case that made them real. They swarmed below the surface of her thoughts like an army of Gnosis, waiting to break through into reality.

"MOMO." Juli spoke gently, but with an edge that compelled MOMO's attention. "I want you to know that no matter what happens after today, it won't affect our relationship. That is, it won't have any bearing on my personal arrangement with you. I'll always ...." She blinked, swallowed; this was harder than she had expected, and the words came out sounding hollow. "You're my daughter, MOMO. And nothing that happens will ever change that. So I don't want you to worry. Even if ...."

MOMO squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, her face strained with the effort of holding back tears. "I don't want him to die."

The words went through Juli's heart like a cold spike, taking away her breath. It was the first time she had allowed herself to admit that possibility, though it had hovered at the back of her mind since yesterday. She had known for a long time that she would have to accept it eventually; she just didn't think she would have to accept it so soon.

"But ... thank you." MOMO looked up again, and her eyes were damp and reddened in the harsh light of the corridor. She wiped her face on her sleeve and made a strained attempt at smiling. "Thanks, Mom." The unfamiliar term caught Juli off guard; MOMO had never called her that before, but it seemed appropriate somehow.

Juli took a hesitant step forward. This time no one stood behind her in silent reassurance, one arm outstretched to support her if she fell back--but it had been a long time since she had needed to rely on him for that, she realized. She used to wonder which of the three of them had been the catalyst that brought them all together, but now she realized they had brought each other together, moving closer one hesitant uncertain step at a time, pretending to be a family until they got it right. Even in his absence, the space between Juli and MOMO was itself a kind of presence, an invisible connection, and the universe was full of invisible connections, humming through the air and strung out across the emptiness of space and the vastness of time.

She tried to smile back, but felt tears gathering in her eyes instead. They stood facing each other for a long moment, caught in the balance between grief and joy; and then they separated and went on their ways.

∞

MOMO reached the door and hesitated. She had taken the hallway at a run, with Alby trotting after her, as soon as she stepped off the elevator, but now she found herself holding back, staring at the closed door to the lab as if she had found a solid wall in its place. She hadn't seen Ziggy since yesterday, when they returned to the Dämmerung. It had required a team of Vector employees to pry him out of the damaged cockpit of the AEWS and transport him to the emergency maintenance lab in this sector; if he had been conscious at the time, he probably would have been embarrassed.

Juli had called MOMO every few hours with updates on his recovery. MOMO would have gone herself, but she was busy meeting with the AMN Division and the Administrative Bureau, the latter via hologram from Fifth Jerusalem. Under MOMO's direction, the two agencies had spent the last twenty-four hours analyzing the changes to the AMN and arguing over what to do about it, and they had only just adjourned within the last hour.

Beside her Alby gave an impatient bark and pawed at the edge of the door. "All right," she said to no one in particular, and keyed in the access code. As the door slid aside to admit the cold watered-down light from within, a gray figure stepped away from one of the terminals. MOMO jumped in alarm; she hadn't been paying attention to her sensors and wasn't expecting to find anyone else in the room.

"Oh, um ... hi, Doctus." MOMO edged back warily. Since yesterday they had hardly spoken to each other, although Doctus had made a brief appearance before the AMN Division to explain the phenomenon in the same terms she had used to explain it to MOMO. Her interactions with MOMO had been coldly polite and professional, and MOMO thought Doctus might still be upset with her for trying to shut down the AMN, even though the plan had worked in their favor. The breakdown in communications had affected both the Federation military and the Immigrant Fleet during the battle in Second Miltian space, interfering with combat operations and preventing the skirmishes that had already broken out from engulfing the entire system. And the experts in Vector and the government had only begun to understand the changes that had swept across the network at its most fundamental level, transforming the structure itself. The threat to its existence had apparently triggered some kind of survival instinct that had forced it to evolve, and it was still evolving now, a full day after the changes began.

"Hi yourself," said Doctus, without overt malice, and with a barely concealed glance at the figure on the bed. "Don't worry, your mother knows I'm here. I suppose you'll be wanting some time alone?"

MOMO nodded. "If you don't mind," she said, more sharply than she had intended; she felt a defensive reflex coiling back in her throat, preparing to lash out, and it frightened her to realize she had that much defiance stored up inside. She was learning all kinds of things she hadn't known about herself.

"Of course." Doctus' expression softened, and she smiled--with something approaching admiration, MOMO thought, although she had never been able to intuit Doctus' emotions the way she could with Ziggy. Still, MOMO felt relieved, as if they had just reached an unspoken accord. Doctus glided past her, boot heels clicking sharply as she crossed the floor. "I'll wait outside. Take all the time you need."

When the door had closed behind her, Alby scampered over to the chair and took up his accustomed post at its base, the way he did at home. But MOMO stayed in front of the doorway, feeling as though she had frozen up again. From here she could see the back of the chair, the curve of an arm, the dull shine of his prosthetic hand on the armrest. She told herself it was no different from any other time she had visited him during his maintenance, that she was just going to keep him company for a while as she always did, but she knew that wasn't true. That wasn't why she was here. Not this time.

"Ziggy, I ... I came to say goodbye to you." Her words sounded small and lost under the noise of the machines that monitored his sleep. She walked over and stood next to the maintenance box, hesitantly taking his right hand in both of hers. It felt too light, too still, the gloved fingers stiff and cold. "I know you're tired, and I know you've been waiting for a long time, so it's okay if ...."

Her voice faltered, and suddenly she wanted to tell him everything while he was still here, before it was too late. "A lot of things have been happening since the last time you were awake," she said, stumbling over the words in her rush. "Mommy ... I mean, my mother says if the negotiations go well, there's a chance we might reopen the sealed column after all. The AMN Division's already talking about building exploratory columns along the route to Lost Jerusalem once it's reopened, and, and so that means, maybe we'll ...." She gripped his hand tighter, not daring to say the rest aloud. Maybe we'll see them again soon.

He lay still, his head inclined at an uncomfortable-looking angle, his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed.

"But I don't want you to worry about us," MOMO went on. "Mom and I are safe now, and you don't have to worry about protecting us anymore. You already ...." She blinked and looked away. She didn't know what he had done inside the Apocryphos, and she might never have a chance to ask him, but somehow she knew his mission had succeeded; they wouldn't be here now if it hadn't. "So you don't have to keep fighting. You can go to sleep, and ...."

This time, when her voice trailed off, she couldn't find it again. There was too much left to say, and she didn't know how to say it all at once. She wanted to tell him that growing up wasn't at all what she had thought it would be, and despite Juli's reassurance, she still didn't know whether she had it all wrong. She used to believe that the confidence she saw in her mother and her friends came from knowing all the answers, that someday she would know the answers too and the world wouldn't seem so huge and complicated and frightening anymore. But the more she learned about the world, the more uncertain it became; and the more she understood the consequences of her actions, the harder it was to act. She had tried to shut down the AMN because she thought it was the right thing to do, but she wasn't proud of what she had done. Her decision had caused as many complications as it had resolved.

But even in the midst of her uncertainty, in spite of everything that had changed in the last three years, he had remained the same, a constant among variables. Even if he couldn't always save her, even if she had to learn to fight for herself, he had been there to watch over her, and knowing that had made her feel safe. She wanted to tell him, but she couldn't find the words.

Instead she held on to his hand, hoping she wouldn't have to let go just yet. She didn't think she would ever stop wanting someone to watch over her.

∞

In the Second Division staff room, Lapis Roman stared into her cup of coffee. She had barely touched it since she sat down, and it was cold now; the thought of swallowing anything made her stomach turn over.

The collapse of the Apocryphos, along with the partial success of the mutiny led by the Julian Sect, had brought the fighting between the Federation forces and the Immigrant Fleet nearly to a standstill. As of the last official report, a few of the more stubborn units were still shooting at each other, but the rest had stopped around the time the AMN went berserk.

Later, when some of the Federation troops boarded the Immigrant Fleet ships to investigate, they had found the officers collapsed at their posts, dead or dying of trauma related to brainjacking, and the rest--civilians and lower-ranking soldiers--sequestered in the inner holds, treating the wounded and holding vigils in prayer. Most of them seemed to have no more interest in fighting, even in the presence of Federation soldiers; when questioned they made reference to "a sign in the heavens" that had heralded some sort of miracle, and even Roman had to admit it seemed as valid an explanation for the recent phenomena as any other explanation offered by either side. The only units still fighting back against the Federation forces were those in which the group consensus had tipped the other way and sent the rank and file climbing over their fallen superiors to continue the assault, but they were outnumbered and losing morale.

And when the traffic on the network cleared and the lines of communication had reopened, a group of Inquisitors from the Julian Sect had sent a message to the Second Miltian government on behalf of the Patriarch, requesting a truce. Roman would be meeting with them soon, accompanying Helmer and Dr. Mizrahi and some higher-ranking officials in the Federation military--ostensibly to negotiate a cease-fire, although Helmer had invited her along to keep one eye on the Inquisitors, whom he didn't trust, and the other on certain of the military brass, whom he trusted even less. In return, Helmer had promised to make sure her request for a few weeks' leave of absence got approved with priority.

She reached for the coffee cup again; maybe she would feel better if she actually managed to drink some. She still hadn't recovered from the stress and trauma of the last twenty-four hours--first the Apocryphos mission and the deaths of her comrades, and then the AMN phenomenon, which no one but MOMO and a few other members of the development committee seemed to understand. Roman still wasn't sure she understood it herself; either the two networks had merged, or one had swallowed the other and transformed into something else entirely, or there was some other explanation that was even more complicated, and no one knew exactly how to handle the situation yet. In the meantime, normal communications on the network had resumed as if the infrastructure remained fundamentally unaltered, although the AMN Administrative Bureau had advised users to proceed with caution until the changes had been fully investigated.

At the table beside her, Miyuki had launched into an enthusiastic discussion of her next project, but Roman was too distracted to listen for more than a few seconds at a time. "The AWESOME performed way better than I expected," Miyuki was saying now, "so I bet I can adapt it for all kinds of military and commercial uses. But, you know ... I kind of want my next big invention to be something different. Something that makes things better for a change, instead of blowing them up. So I had this idea for a way to build hyperspace columns more efficiently. I'm going to present it to the AMN Division once things settle down. I bet it will really come in useful when we open up the sealed column."

Roman saw Juli walk in from across the room, and checked the time. Excusing herself from the table, she got up and walked to the door. Even after the nanosurgery, her leg still ached where the shot had grazed her ankle, but she managed to disguise the slight limp, and it hardly bothered her. At least she had escaped alive; the rest of her unit hadn't been so fortunate, and she'd had nightmares about the thing in the corridor last night, in the few hours she managed to sleep. She shuddered to remember it now.

"Are you ready?" said Juli. She looked both tired and restless, the same way Roman felt.

Roman nodded and followed her out into the hallway. "Although I hardly need to tell you I don't have a very good feeling about this."

"I know." Juli clasped her hands together and dropped her gaze to the side as they walked. "Helmer seems to think the Julian Sect will ask for the Federation Government to recognize them as a sovereign state--a theocracy independent from the Federation. We could be setting ourselves up for another Miltia Conflict."

"That's what I was afraid of," said Roman. "It looks like we're about to repeat history again."

"No." Juli raised her head sharply. "We don't have to let that happen. We can do something about it this time."

"Dr. Mizrahi, with all due respect, you and I aren't exactly in a position to determine--"

"I know, but ...." They walked by a window in the hallway and Juli looked out, catching a momentary glimpse of the stars as they passed. "Things aren't the same as they used to be. We're not the same. This isn't the same world from seventeen years ago, or a hundred years ago. And speaking as a scientist, I don't know of any universal law that states we have to go on making the same mistakes forever. Maybe we did in the past, but that doesn't mean it's inevitable. Besides ... we might even stand to learn something from Ormus. After all, we do have one goal in common."

"You mean Lost Jerusalem?" Roman stared at her, wondering whether the rumors about Juli's ties to Ormus held some truth after all.

"Yes, exactly." Juli went on as if she hadn't noticed her reaction. "As misguided as some of their beliefs were, they never gave up searching for their promised land. I think we could learn from that too." They passed another window; this time, deep in thought, she didn't look up. "My late husband used to say that relationships between people, between one generation and the next, were like waves. I think we make mistakes so we can learn from them, and so our children can learn from us. We pass that learning on to the generations after us, and they pass on their learning, and over time they accumulate, so that even the smallest change can have an effect on the entire system. We have the ability to change our destiny by changing ourselves. And that, I think, may be our greatest strength right now."

Roman was silent as they approached the internal rail station where the shuttle awaited. The meeting had been scheduled to take place elsewhere on the Dämmerung, in the room the former CEO had used for private meetings with his closest advisers. Helmer had wanted to hold the negotiations on neutral territory, instead of on Second Miltia or in one of the Immigrant Fleet colonies, as a gesture of mutual goodwill, and the joint leaders of Scientia and Vector had volunteered the Dämmerung as the single largest politically neutral entity in the Federation.

"Your husband was an interesting person," Roman said finally. "And I mean that with all due respect. I hope he was right."

"I hope so too," said Juli. She climbed into the shuttle, and Roman got in after her, and they prepared to depart.