I have considered such questions before."
"Ship and our ancestors brought -"
"Why this sudden religious streak, Kareen? Ship and our ancestors brought chaos to Pandora. They did not consider the consequences of their actions. Look at me, Kareen! I am one of those consequences. Clones ... mutants ... I ask you, was it not Ship's purpose to teach us a hard lesson?"
"What lesson?"
"That there are some changes that can destroy us. You speak so glibly of a human way of life! Have you defined what it is to be human?"
"Ward ... we're both human."
"Like me, Kareen. That's how we judge. Human is 'like me.' In our guts, we say: It's human if it's 'like me.'"
"Is that how you judge on the Committee?" Her tone was scornful, or hurt.
"Indeed, it is. But I paint the likeness with a very broad brush. How broad is your brush? For that matter, this scornful young man seated here, could he look at me and say, 'like me'?"
Panille did not look up but his neck turned red and he bent intently over his console.
"Shadow and his people save Islander lives," she remarked.
"Indeed," Keel said, "and I'm grateful. However, I would like to know whether he believes he is saving fellow humans or an interesting lower life form?
"We live in different environments, Kareen. Those different environments require different customs. That's all. But I've begun to ask myself why we Islanders allow ourselves to be manipulated by your standards of beauty. Could you, for example, consider me as a mate?" He put up a hand to stop her reply and noticed that Panille was doing his best to ignore their conversation. "I don't seriously propose it," Keel said. "Think about everything involved in it. Think how sad it is that I have to bring it up."
Choosing her words carefully, spacing them with definite pauses, Ale said, "You are the most difficult ... human being ... I have ever met."
"Is that why you brought me here? If you can convince me, you can convince anyone?"
Chapter 12
"I don't think of Islanders as Mutes," she said. "You are humans whose lives are important and whose value to us all should be obvious."
"But you said yourself that there are Mermen who don't agree," he said.
"Most Mermen don't know the particular problems Islanders face. You must admit, Ward, that much of your work force is ineffective ... through no fault of your own, of course."
How subtle, he thought. Almost euphemistic.
"Then what is our 'obvious value'?"
"Ward, each of us has approached a common problem - survival on this planet - in somewhat different ways. Down here, we compost for methane and to gain soil for the time when we'll have to plant the land."
"Diverting energy from the life cycle?"
"Delaying," she insisted. "Land is far more stable when plants hold it down. We'll need fertile soil."
"Methane," he muttered. He forgot what point he was going to make in the wake of the new illumination dawning on him. "You want our hydrogen facilities!"
Her eyes went wide at the quickness of his mind.
"We need the hydrogen to get into space," she said.
"And we need it for cooking, heating and driving our few engines," he countered.
"You have methane, too."
"Not enough."
"We separate hydrogen electronically and -"
"Not very efficient," he said. He tried to keep the pride out of his voice, but it leaked through all the same.
"You use those beautiful separation membranes and the high pressure of deep water," she said.
"Score one for organics."
"But organics are not the best way to build a whole technology," she said. "Look how it's bogged you down. Your technology should support and protect you, help you to progress."
"That was argued out generations ago," he said. "Islanders know what you think about organics."
"That argument is not over," she insisted. "And with the hyb tanks ..."
"You're coming to us, now," he said, "because we have a way with tissues." He allowed himself a tight smile. "And I note that you also come to us for the most delicate surgery."
"We understand that organics once represented the most convenient way for you to survive topside," she said. "But times are changing and we -"
"You are changing them," he challenged. He backed off at the frustration visible in her clenched jaw, noting the flash of something bright in her blue eyes. "Times are always changing," he said, his voice softer. "The question remains: How do we best adapt to change?"
"It requires all of your energies just to maintain yourselves and your organics," she snapped, not softening. "Islands starve