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Petyr, Trae following his example. It was fortunately a short climb; the rope was hard to grip and kept moving. Trae almost fell near the top, but Petyr grabbed his arm and steadied him.
    Trae stood by Petyr, puffing hard. Winches squeaked and timbers groaned. The air was salt and seaweed. Sails rose above him, and he swayed with the rocking of the deck.
    “Don’t get much exercise, does he,” said a man.
    “He’ll come along fast enough,” said Petyr. “You just get us to Lycos before sunrise.”
    “Well before. Get below, and I’ll send down some tea. Soon as the landing boat is berthed, we pull anchor.”
    The man turned away. Trae got one glimpse of a bearded, grizzled face, but he never heard a name or saw a face long enough to recognize it again.
    They went below-decks, a single chamber the length of the hull and nearly as wide, loaded with packing crates, rolls of twisted steel cable and flat sheets of what looked like copper. Petyr went to one packing crate marked “Fabrik” and pressed an edge of it with a finger. There was a click, and the front panel opened outwards like a door. Inside were the ends of fabric rolls, top to bottom. Another click, and a second panel opened inward, fabric roll ends only going back a few inches in length. A table and two chairs were inside the crate, a fluorescent lamp and slowly turning vent fan in the ceiling. They went inside and shut the two panels behind them. A few minutes later there was a soft knock outside, and a man brought them hot tea and sugar.
    The little room was soon stuffy, and the rocking of the floor gave Trae a queasy feeling in his stomach. Petyr looked at him with narrowed eyes. “We’ll be in here at least three hours, and your eyes are already large. Take this.” He handed him a white capsule, and Trae swallowed it dry without question.
    “The first days will be hard,” said Petyr. “You’ll have to build strength and endurance.”
    “And we’re supposed to be finding a way out?”
    “You are. I’m along to get you started in the underground here. Beyond that I have no useful knowledge. I know the workings of the Emperor’s police; I should be able to keep them away from you. Once we’re off planet it’ll be easier, but even then I expect they’ll send pursuit squads after us. They’ll search for you, Trae, but mostly they want your father.”
    “He ran off and abandoned me and everyone else a long time ago; how can he hurt the Emperor?”
    “We don’t know a lot of things, Trae. We don’t know why he left. We don’t know for sure that he has left. He could use his financial empire to shut down all interplanetary commerce with Gan, or at least force sanctions against it. What powers he could bring to bear from The Immortals is unknown. There could be entire leagues of planets under their influence, huge armies your father could bring against the Emperor, but it hasn’t happened and we don’t know why. It’s even possible the Lyraen commune has lost his favor, and he’s left us to our fate, but your presence speaks against that.”
    Trae took another sip of tea and rubbed his stomach. “The pill worked. I’m feeling better.”
    “Talking helps, too. Makes you forget about it.”
    Trae hesitated, then, “Gella slipped up once, and told me there were little machines working in my head. Is that where the dreams come from?”
    “Probably. The wiring in your brain is constantly being redone. We couldn’t wait any longer, Trae. There were too many spies. We had to get you moving, and we don’t really know where we’re supposed to take you or what you’re supposed to do. First thing is to get you off planet, and the underground can help get us to that point. After that it’ll be up to you to show the way. I’m working by instinct here.”
    “So am I,” said Trae. He paused, sipped tea, studied the cup in his hands, then said softly, “Have you ever been outside? You know—outside the caverns, and in the city with people