“This is a slightly low-G world. Thick crust."

“Both."

“Uh-huh. So the Mind’s inside these…." She looked along the terrace, not really seeing anything, but in her mind’s eye looking

down

kilometers of dark tunnels (and thinking there might be some pretty impressive mountains above them: all that granite;

low-G; good climbing

territory). She looked at the machine again. “So what happened. It’s a Planet of the Dead; did the natives

eventually do it to themselves."

“With biological weapons, not nukes, to the last humanoid, eleven thousand years ago."

“Hmm." Fal nodded. Now it was obvious why the Dra’Azon had made Schar’s World one of their Planets of the Dead. If you were

a pure-

energy superspecies long retired from the normal, matter-based life of the galaxy, and your conceit was to cordon off

and preserve the odd

planet or two you thought might serve as a fitting monument to death and futility, Schar’s World with

its short and sordid history sounded like the

sort of place you’d put pretty near the top of your list.

Something occurred to her. “How come the tunnels haven’t sealed up again over all that time. Five klicks’ worth of pressure…"

“We don’t know," Jase sighed. “The Dra’Azon have not been very forthcoming with information. It is possible the System’s engineers

devised a technique for withstanding the pressure over such a period. This is unlikely, admittedly, but then they were ingenious."

“Pity they didn’t devote a little more ingenuity to staying alive rather than conducting mass slaughter as efficiently as

possible," Fal said, and

made a little snorting noise.

Jase felt pleasure at the girl’s words (if not the snort), but at the same time detected in them a tinge of that mixture of

contempt and

patronizing smugness the Culture found it so difficult not to exhibit when surveying the mistakes of less advanced

societies, even though the

source civilizations of its own mongrel past had been no less fallible. Still, the underlying point

held; experience as well as common sense

indicated that the most reliable method of avoiding self-extinction was not to equip

oneself with the means to accomplish it in the first place.

“So," Fal said, looking down as she tapped her one good heel on the gray stones, “the Mind’s in the tunnels; the Dra’Azon’s

on the outside.

What’s the Quiet Barrier limit."

“The usual half-distance to the nearest other star: three hundred and ten standard light-days in the case of Schar’s World

at the moment."

“—And…." She held out her hand to Jase and raised her head and her eyebrows. Flower shadows moved on her neck as the gentlest

of

breezes started and ruffled the blossoms on the trelliswork above her head. “What’s the problem."

“Well," Jase said, “the reason the Mind was allowed in at all was because—"

“In distress. Right. Go on."

Jase, who had stopped being annoyed by Fal’s interruptions the first time she had brought it a mountain flower, went on, “There

is a small

base on Schar’s World, as there is on almost all the Planets of the Dead. As usual it is staffed from a small,

nominally neutral, nondynamic

society of some galactic maturity—"

“The Changer," Fal broke in, quite slowly, as though guessing the answer to a puzzle which had been troubling her for hours

and ought to

have been simple. She looked through the flower-strewn trellis, to a blue sky where a few small white clouds

were moving slowly. She looked

back to the machine. “I’m right, aren’t I. That Changer guy who… and that Special Circumstancer—Balveda—and

the place where you have to

be senile to rule. They’re Changers on Schar’s World and this bloke—" She broke off and frowned.

“But I thought he was dead."

“Now we’re not so sure. The last message from the GCU

Nervous Energy

seemed to indicate he might have escaped."

“What happened to the GCU."

“We don’t know. Contact was lost while it was trying to capture rather than destroy the Idiran ship. Both are presumed lost."

“Capture it, eh." Fal said tartly. “Another show-off Mind. But that’s it, isn’t it. The Idirans might be able to use this

guy—what’s his name.

Do we know."

“Bora Horza Gobuchul."

“Whereas we don’t have any Changers."

“We do, but the one we have is on the other side of the galaxy on an urgent job not connected with the war; it would take

half a year to get

her there. Besides, she has never been to Schar’s World; the tricky part about this problem is that Bora

Horza Gobuchul has."

“Ho-

ho,

" Fal said.

“In addition, we have unconfirmed information that the same Idiran fleet which knocked out the fleeing ship also tried unsuccessfully

to follow

the Mind to Schar’s World with a small landing force. Thus the Dra’Azon concerned is going to be suspicious. It

might let Bora Horza Gobuchul

through, as he has served before with the caretaker staff on the planet, but even he is not

certain to gain entry. Anybody else is very doubtful

indeed."

“Of course the poor devil might be dead."

“Changers are not notoriously easy to kill, and besides, it would seem unwise simply to count on that possibility."

“And you’re worried he might get to this precious Mind and bring it back to the Idirans."

“It could just happen."

“Just supposing it

did

happen, Jase," Fal said, screwing up her eyes and leaning forward to look at the machine, “so what. Would it really

make

any difference. What would happen if the Idirans did get their hands on this admittedly resourceful kid Mind."

“Assuming that we are going to win the war…" Jase said thoughtfully, “… it could lengthen the proceedings by a handful of

months."

“And how many’s that supposed to be." Fal said.

“Somewhere between three and seven, I suppose. It depends whose hand you’re using."

Fal smiled. “And the problem is that the Mind can’t destruct without making this Planet of the Dead even more dead than it

is already, in fact

without making it an asteroid belt."

“Exactly."

“So maybe the little devil shouldn’t have bothered saving itself from the wreck in the first place, and should have just gone

down with the

ship."

“It’s called the instinct to survive." Jase paused while Fal nodded, then it went on, “It’s programmed into most living things."

It made a show

of weighing the girl’s injured leg in its field-held grip. “Though, of course, there are always exceptions…."

“Yes," Fal said, giving what she hoped was a condescending smile, “very droll, Jase."

“So you see the problem."

“I see the problem," Fal agreed. “Of course we could force our way in there, and blow the place to smithereens if necessary,

and to hell with

the Dra’Azon." She grinned.

“Yes," Jase conceded, “and put the whole outcome of the war in jeopardy by antagonizing a power whose haziest unknown quantity

is the

exact extent of its immensity. We could also surrender to the Idirans, but I doubt we’ll do that either."

“Well, so long as we’re considering all the options." Fal laughed.

“Oh yes."

“OK, Jase, if that’s all—let me think about this lot for a while," Fal ’Ngeestra said, sitting up straight on the bench and

stretching and

yawning. “It sounds interesting." She shook her head. “This is lap-of-the-gods stuff, though. Let me have…

anything you think might be relevant.