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　her　look　straight　up　into　the　sky。

Framed　by　the　hole　the　descending　mecha　had　made　in　the　forest　canopy；　a　single　gargantuan　eye　that　Kazianna　knew　now　for　the　Regis's　gazed　back。

The　giantess　murmured；　〃You　never　learned　this　from　Zor；　did　you？　No；　nor　from　the　Great　Work；　or　your　Genesis　Pits；　or　even　the　transcendence　itself。〃

But　the　Regis　made　no　answer；　and　there　was　no　sign　what　the　new　data　would　mean　to　her　race/self。

Then　that　last；　separated　part　of　her　attention　was　gone；　reunited　with　the　rest　of　her；　as　the　Regis　addressed　herself　to　the　threat　she　sensed　from　Haydon。


People　were　used　to　deferring　to　Lang；　to　obeying　without　question　the　driving　force　of　the　SDFs；　RDF；　and　REF。　Even　when　he　landed　in　a　shuttle　whose　jamming　gear　was　fouling　up　munications　with　the　planet　below；　even　when　he　emerged　alone　and　gave　orders　to　seal　all　flight　decks　and　air　locks；　even　when　he　walked　away　without　a　word　of　explanation　or　authorization；　they　automatically　moved　to　obey。　Even　Xien　knew　his　authority　lay；　in　reality；　somewhere　far　below　Lang's。

Perhaps　every　human's　did。

Niles　Obstat　attempted　to　get　into　the　shuttle；　to　shut　down　the　countermeasures　and　jamming　gear　so　that　the　SDF…3　could　contact　the　ground　party；　but　the　shuttle　refused　to　open　no　matter　what　he　tried。

Lang　was　already　racing　to　his　sanctum　sanctorum　back　near　Engineering　when　he　heard　the　PA　chatter　about　an　unauthorized　air　lock　opening　and　the　arrival　of　an　Alpha。　He　was　too　busy　thinking　about　other　things　to　curse；　but　his　lips　curved　a　bit　in　a　cold　smile。　Nichols　the　cyber…master；　what　an　unexpectedly　worthy　opponent！

Louie　emerged　from　the　VT　to　find　the　people　waiting　for　him　looking　like　the　victims　of　some　psychic　plague：　dazed　and　unfocussed；　not　sure　who　or　what　to　trust；　least　of　all　their　own　senses。　At　least　Xien　and　Niles　Obstat　summoned　up　the　resolve　to　confront　Louie　and　try　to　intervene。

Louie　swept　them　with　his　black；　bug…goggled　gaze。　〃I　can't　explain；　follow　me　if　you　like。　Lang　has　to　be　stopped。〃

Xien　stepped　in　his　way。　〃Admiral　Hunter　hasn't　given　any　orders。〃

〃The　Hunters　and　the　rest　are　all　right；　I　think。　Ask　them　yourself。〃

Louie　had　glanced　to　where　Lang's　abandoned　shuttle　was　carelessly　parked。　Crew　members　were　swinging　a　heavy…duty　cutting　unit　into　place　for　forced　entry。　At　Louie's　glance；　various　nearby　sensors　registered　a　change；　and　somebody　from　the　TIC　reported　that　the　jamming　had　stopped。

Xien's　mouth　became　a　thin；　resolute　line；　and　he　pulled　his　sidearm；　training　it　on　Louie。　〃You　stand　fast　until　the　admiral　says　differently。〃

He　had　just　turned　to　muster　a　security　detail　to　bring　Lang　to　ground；　when　they　all　heard　the　grinding　of　mecha。

All　over　the　hangar　deck　war　machines　were　moving；　mechamorphosing；　rousing　up　like　wakened　fairy…tale　monsters。　Xien　was　brushed　back　by　a　Guardian's　careful　hand；　unhurt　but　helpless　to　interfere。　The　would…be　security　detail　found　themselves　boxed　in　by　a　Battloid　and　the　single　functioning　second…generation　Destroid　aboard。　Similarly；　other　personnel　moved　out　of　Louie's　way　or　were　moved　from　it。

Louie　showed　a　bit　of　harried　delight　as　three　figures　stood　forth　from　the　shadows　to　regard　him。　Strucker；　Shi…Ling；　and　Stirson　had　to　maintain　their　concentration　with　so　many　mecha　to　remote…control。

〃Keep　them　all　here；〃　Louie　ordered　his　men。　〃Same　goes　for　the　Hunters　and　the　rest。〃

〃Listen；　you　need　us　with　you；〃　Shi…Ling　began。

〃Uh　uh；　I've　got　Lang's　number；　but　he'd　just　burn　you　out。〃

The　unplugged　people　present　heard　the　toccatas　and　rondos　of　data　only　as　dim　sounds　from　control　panels　and　puter　units。　To　Louie　and　his　disciples　it　was　a　symphony　and　light　show　that　surrounded　them　and　validated　Louie's　assertion　with　hard　proof：　Only　he；　with　his　augmentations；　could　hope　to　survive　a　clash　with　Lang。　Stirson　conceded；　〃We　understand。　Wipe　'im；　man。〃

Louie　ran　on　his　way。　He　never　knew　if　he　found　the　passages　empty　by　some　doing　of　Lang　or　as　a　result　of　the　Regis　or　sheer　coincidence。　He　got　to　Lang's　sanctum　sanctorum　to　find　the　heavy　hatch　of　the　armored　vault　module　hanging　open。

Emil　Lang　was　poised　on　a　stool　within；　contemplating　the　apparatus　taken　so　long　ago　from　Zor's　quarters。　Now　it　was　radiant　with　Protoculture。

Lang　spoke　casually；　without　looking　at　him。　〃I　think　you'll　find　this　interesting；　Doctor。　Do　e　in。〃

Louie　shrugged　out　of　his　jacket。　Where　his　black　turtleneck　was　torn；　the　bionics　and　chip　technology　that　had　bee　parts　of　his　body　could　be　seen；　along　with　the　cyberport　at　the　back　of　his　neck。

Lang　glanced　at　him。　〃Don't　be　frightened；　it's　too　late　for　you　to　do　me　any　harm；　so　I've　no　need　to　harm　you。〃　Louie　was　not　ready　to　put　money　on　that　yet；　but　it　was　certain　that　Lang　was　on　his　own　playing　field。　Oh；　maybe　there　was　something　Louie　could　do　about　the　door　servos　or　the　conventional　light　fixtures；　but　everything　of　any　significance　was　Protoculture；　and　Lang　had　already　proved　who　was　top　dog　in　that　particular　arena。

Louie　gulped　but　entered。　What　else　was　there　to　do？　〃Doctor；　look：　I　know　what　you're　thinking；　but　you　can't　control　the　Shapings。　Remember　what　happened　to　Zand？〃

Lang's　voice　cut　like　razor　wire。　〃You　impertinent　little　cyborg　Pinocchio！　Do　you　think　you've　risen　so　high　that　you　can　look　down　on　me　in　that　fashion？〃

〃That　wasn't　what　I　meant。〃

Lang　eyed　him　and　grudgingly　believed　him。　〃Doctor　Nichols；　if　what　we　are　observing　were　allowed　to　e　to　pass…if　real；　spacetime　were　drawn　into　newspace　and　the　whole　reformed　along　lines　chosen　by　the　Regis…I　believe　that　your　somewhat　unorthodox　intellect　and　talents　would　make　you　the　new　template　for　the　nature　of　Protoculture。　〃And　I　do　not　find　that　an　easy　thing　to　concede。〃

Louie　swallowed。　〃I　just…〃

〃Please。　Allow　me　to　finish。　As　glorious　a　thing　as　that　new　universe　would　be…that　fresh　start；　that　shining　correction；　perhaps；　of　all　that's　gone　wrong　with　our　old　one　there　is　much　that　would　inevitably　pass　away。　Maybe　most；　or　virtually　all；　of　everything　we　have　known。〃

〃I　don't　celebrate　evil　or　pain；　oh；　no！　But　all　that's　happened　means　something；　perhaps　gives　some　irreducible　validity　to　existence　itself。　Or　maybe　the　struggle　of　evolution　against　entropy；　of　ferment　against　mere　sameness。〃

〃And　I　find　that　I　cannot　let　the　past　die；　for　all　its　short璱ngs。　There　are　too　many　precious　things　in　our　space　time；　preserved　in　amber；　as　it　were。　I　won't　let　them　perish。〃

Louie　wondered　if　he　had　the　strength　to　wrench　that　long　control　around　on　its　hinge；　swing　it　against　Lang's　head；　get　in　the　first　shot。　〃You　can't　do　any　of　that　by　trying　to　control　the　Shapings；　Doctor。　Zand　proved　that。〃

Lang　shifted　to　turn　a　dial。　The　console　shone　brighter　and　sang　more　gloriously。　〃I　know　that。　What　I'll　do　is　merge　with　them。　For　they；　too；　are　reaching　the　end　of　a　vast　cycle。

〃Not　that　I'm　of　any　significance；　but　perhaps　I　can　be　like　an　insignificant　snowflake　that　determines　which　way　the　avalanche　shall　fall。　In　any　case；　I　won't　know；　for　Emil　Lang　won't　exist　anymore。〃

Louie　had　taken　Lang's　shift　of　position　into　account　and　now　gathered　himself。　But　Lang　threw　him　off　by　rising；　and　Louie　noticed　for　the　first　time　that　something　truly　new　had　been　added　to　Zor's　apparatus：　a　pair　of　brass　handgrips　set　perhaps　a　yard　apart　on　the　console。

Lang　smiled　suddenly；　his　black；　all…pupil　eyes　gleaming　limpidly。　〃There's　no　one　else　eligible　for　the　job；　so　I　have　to　try；　at　the　very　least。　Won't　you　wish　me　well　。。。　Louie？〃

Louie　froze　and　found　himself　answering；　〃I　do；　Emil。　I　wish　you　well。〃

He　moved　with　all　the　speed　he　could　muster　but　stopped　just　before　he　got　within　reach。　The　control　bar　was　forgotten；　the　fight　forgotten。　Louie　Nichols　found　himself　guided　by　a　simple　intuition…nothing　to　do　with　Shapings　or　psi　but　only　a　feeling　that　the　man　had　spoken　the　truth。

〃I　wish　you　well。〃

〃Thank　you；　Louie。　Good…bye。〃

Lang　rose　unhurriedly　and　seized　both　handgrips。　A　light　like　the　beginning　of　the　universe　filled　the　vault　module；　and　Louie　felt　as　if　all　the　winds　of　time　were　blowing　through　his　brain