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to
it now, and you may not want to hear this. The fact is, one way or
another, we have to tap the resources of the Ponath. It is going to
take a tremendous amount of energy to produce the necessary
titanium.”
    “You were going to look into the possibility of producing
it in orbit, in solar-powered factories.”
    “I was and I did. There are no adequate titanium ores
available anywhere in the system other than right here on the
planet. I’m sorry. The girderwork will have to be produced
down here and lifted into orbit.”
    Kiljar asked, “Who will manage all of this? Consider the
politics. It will be an alliance of all the Communities and the
brethren, and will represent and include most meth bonds. With that
many interests, there is no hope of working in harmony for the time
required. Many sisters will not tolerate taking orders from old
enemies or from competitors in other orders. None will take
directions from brethren, even where brethren are the competent
experts. None will work with bonds as though they are
equals.”
    “Setting this in motion will require a formal convention,
as Senior Kiljar has said,” Marika said. “Most of that
will have to be fought out there. One possibility would be for the
Communities to elect a most senior of most seniors for a fixed term
and give her absolute powers and a group of judges to enforce
them.”
    “The smaller sisterhoods would object strenuously,”
Kiljar said.
    “Then, perhaps, a continuous convention in which
grievances can be aired as they arise, given the understanding that
work must go on uninterrupted.”
    Bagnel snorted derisively. “No, Marika. I see time
stretching and stretching already. Nothing ever gets done while
silth argue. The arguing has to be done before. During, there can
be nothing but the project.”
    “Just how critical is the time frame?” Bel-Keneke
asked. “Is there a time of no return? Of too late? We will be
inside this dust cloud for millennia.”
    “I do not know exactly, mistress,” Bagnel said.
“One thing we will have to do is chart the density of the
dust, just so we can estimate such things. I do know that we do not
have millennia. Even now, tapping the petroleum in the Ponath will
demand the creation of new engineering techniques. The longer we
wait, the deeper the ice. And the greater the difficulties.
Everywhere.”
    “No matter what we do there will be problems,”
Bel-Keneke mused. “No matter what else, then, we have to keep
muddling ahead. An inch gained now may mean a foot saved later. Any
progress will be better than none.”
    Kiljar said, “Our first trial will be assembling a
convention capable of acting. That chore I will assume myself,
being, you will admit, somewhat more tactful than any of my fellow
conspirators.”
    Marika was startled. Humor? From Kiljar? You never learned
everything about anyone.
    Bel-Keneke remarked, “If the project takes twenty years
instead of eight, so be it. The Reugge are committed.”
    Marika turned from one more look at the icy world.
“Bagnel, I believe you promised to take me flying.
Let’s do it.”
     
----

Chapter Thirty-One

I
    Marika’s voidship drifted slowly through the clutter and
confusion of the leading trojan point. She could make better speed
down on the surface of the planet. Here she dared not fly herself,
trusting only herself, for there were so many obstacles to
navigation. Passage through the site required the combined efforts
of a Mistress of the Ship and a Mistress-qualified pilot-passenger
working from the axis. Marika could not imagine how the brethren
kept track.
    Three years had passed. Initial construction was just beginning.
The support industry down on the planet’s surface was not yet
more than thirty percent of what it would have to be. Ninety
percent of the off-planet effort, so far, had been devoted to the
leading mirror.
    It would be a demonstrator, in a sense. If it went active and
did no apparent good, the rest of the project would