“It was hypothesized by some,” she went on, “that you people somehow constituted some sinister cabal that was in league with the mysterious aliens. I can see now how silly that was. But I guess you can’t blame people. The appearance of this ship has been quite a shock to everyone.”

“Us too,” said Shimoda. “How are they reacting?”

“There’s a lot of incredulity on many worlds, in spite of the verified reports and the vids. The various governments are being evasive, whether to prevent panic or conceal their own intentions I can’t say. Candomble is no different.”

She sipped at a second drink, this one a bright lime green. “What are you going to do? What are your plans?”

“We have not decided yet.” Iranaputra stood with his hands behind his back, his toes dug into the sand. “So far we have been dealing with things as they happen.”

“Then your being aboard really is an accident?” Several of them nodded.

She considered the admission. “I didn’t want to do this. When the fire started, I was sure it was all over. That I’d never see my mother and father again.” Tears started to trickle from the corners of both eyes. She cried quietly, with hardly any noise. Heath offered her his shirt.

“Thank you.” She wiped at her face.

It was just a little, just a tiny bit, too much for Mina Gelmann. She was old, yes, but not senile. The manner in which her quartet of male friends was now fawning over their unexpected visitor inexorably led her to consider the possibility, however slight on the face of it, that the young woman they had rescued might be capable of as yet unsuspected subtleties.

AI dysynapsing? Multiple bruises, contusions, a bloody but minor head wound but nothing serious? Gelmann kept her slight suspicions to herself. Nor did she betray them through her tone of voice, since there was little need for her to say anything. Her four companions seemed more than anxious to do any and all talking that was required. Even the normally introspective Shimoda was posturing outrageously. Not that he was aware of it, of course. He was a man.

Could it be that after so many years as the center of attention she was jealous? Gelmann refused to countenance the thought. She was much, much too intelligent to succumb to something so subjective.

“Sand’s warm,” Ashili commented absently. “What other wonders does this artifact contain?”

“We’ve only explored a small portion.” Heath sounded almost apologetic. “The individual chambers and rooms are huge. The crew must’ve numbered in the thousands.”

“Tens of thousands,” Hawkins added emphatically.

“And you’ve done all this on your own. You’re quite a remarkable bunch, you know.”

“We have done no more than cope with the situation in which we have found ourselves,” Heath murmured. “Some of us have had a bit of experience in extraordinary circumstances, you know.”

“I’ve heard that this artifact is more than a million years old.” She had begun to examine her surroundings more thoroughly.

“So it claims,” Iranaputra admitted. “If you feel well enough, I would be glad to guide you around.”

With the exception of Mina Gelmann, Iranaputra’s companions were as willing as he to show their visitor the marvels they had encountered. Uncharacteristically the widowed computer specialist contented herself with watching, listening, and observing. She remained friendly toward the younger woman, but cautious.

As time passed, she found herself relaxing. The visitor’s distress seemed genuine, and Gelmann had several granddaughters of her own. But she never completely let her guard down. Someone had to maintain one, and her thoroughly pixilated companions clearly weren’t up to the task.

“Why do you stay here?” Ashili asked them the next day. “Why not try to find the central control, for example?”

A glistening, beached seal, Shimoda rolled over on the sand. “We’re all of us a little too old for month-long hikes. Besides, the Autothor functions equally well in every part of the ship. With the kind of setup it represents there’s no need to centralize functions.”

“I see.” She smiled prettily and wandered off up the beach to inspect Ksarusix’s sculpted sand schematic. She’d ingratiated herself with the serving robot by the simple expedient of agreeing with everything it said, including its stubborn assertion that the alien ship represented a different and higher form of intelligence despite the Autothor’s continued insistence to the contrary.

“At least one of you bipeds recognizes the obvious.” The robot added more sand to a dubious representation of an optical nexus.

“You have to excuse the others.” Hands on hips, head cocked slightly to one side, she studied the robot’s work. “They’re very old. Since you’re assigned to work with them, you should understand what that means and make allowances accordingly.”

Ksarusix spoke without looking at her. “I suppose. It’s the same with us. After extensive use systems begin to fail, internal structures to break down. Isolated memory gaps appear. Unfortunately humans have no backup capability. Blatant internal deficiency. Runs right down the whole evolutionary chain.” The small head simulated a negative head shake. “Too bad.”

“It’s sweet of you to be sympathetic.”

“Not sympathetic.” Ksarusix added a careful measure of water to the new sand. “Just honest.” It paused to admire its handiwork, glanced over at her. “It’s swell to know that there’s at least one human who’s not intimidated by reality.”

“Not me. My grasp on reality is as strong as yours.”

She joined her rescuers in testing the limits of the Autothor’s food-synthesizing capabilities, in asking it questions to which it often had no answer, in swimming in the warm ocean and running along the beach. Her wounds healed with the speed of youth and when the scabs and scars had disappeared, she was more beautiful than ever.

Iranaputra took especial pride in relating to her the story of the artifact’s discovery, not neglecting in his modest fashion to emphasize that he’d been the first to set eyes on it. She listened raptly, as she did to all their tales. It was amusing to see the five seniors treat the cajoling, demanding, pleading requests that arrived regularly from the combined military strength of the First Federal Federation and the Keiretsu with blithe indifference.

Five tottery, cranky, highly individualistic old folks in control of the most powerful device in the cosmos, Ashili mused, and all they chose to do with it was relax on its artificial beach, swim in its artificial ocean, soak up its artificial sun, and consume its artificial food. In effect, they were doing no more than continuing their retirement on a grander scale.

She played no favorites, though she spent more time with Heath than any of the others. Much to the amusement of his friends, she apparently found his military reminiscences of as much interest as they did her regular nude swims in the warm sea, though she listened to all of their individual histories with apparently equal enjoyment.

They were having a midday dip. Iranaputra preferred to take his long swim at noon because he chilled quickly. Of course, the Autothor could have adjusted the temperature as easily as it did the position of the “sun,” but Iranaputra and his companions found it more natural to have the light source overhead concurrent with the warmest part of the day. They experimented with their climate as freely as with the food.

Ashili observed them as they dallied in the mild surf. Five seniors acting like so many children, delighting in the biggest toy in history. Gelmann and Shimoda were splashing each other playfully. Heath floated on his back, while Hawkins and Iranaputra stood in the shallows debating the possible biologic origins of some mollusk they’d excavated from the sand.

She turned away to study the fake igneous escarpments that formed the little cove. If this vast chamber was a reflection of the homeworld of the artifact’s designers, it must be a pleasant place. Why would beings who dwelt on such a world have need of a warship of such size? Such speculations shrank the ship’s vast dimensions, allowing the frigid void outside to press close and dim the benign artificial sun.

She left the artifact’s discoverers to their diversions and strolled out onto the beach, lying down on her back with her feet toward the water, letting the warm air dry her coffee-colored skin. As soon as she was comfortable she donned her service underclothing and walked over to confront the enigmatic, ever-present blue ellipse. A check of her wrist chronometer showed that exactly seven days had passed since she had been brought aboard. Seven days almost to the minute.

It was time to act.

“Autothor!”

The scintillating Blueness had no face to turn to her, but that was the impression she received as it replied. “What is it?”

“I want you to move.” A quick glance oceanward showed that her elderly rescuers were paying no attention to her.

“Very well,” the Autothor replied pleasantly. “Where would you like me to move to?”

“Not you. Not your physical representation. I want you to move the ship. Into orbit around a world called Reconcavo. I will provide you with spatial coordinates.”

The device’s reply surprised her. “Why?”

“So that friends of mine can examine and study you.”

“You are examining and studying me here.”

“Not in the kind of depth and detail that can be achieved elsewhere, with proper facilities. Do you mind being studied in greater depth?”

“No.” It started to drift beachward. “If you will wait, I will be glad to consult the others.”

“No, no.” Without pausing to consider the possible consequences, she hurried to interpose herself between the Autothor and the water. “There’s no need to ask them. Just do it. I’m giving you a direct order.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t acknowledge that.”