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What they could never do was get rid of the viruses they carried within their own cells, huht? What if the descolada inside the barrier, before it died, ed to "tell" the viruses that Planter and Ender carried inside them about what had been learned from this new strain of potato? About the defenses that Ela and Novinha had tried to build into it? About the ways this virus had found to defeat their tactics?

If the descolada were truly intelligent, with a language to spread information and pass behaviors from one individual to many others, then how could Ender--how could any of theht well be that the descolada was theworlds and eliers or any other living creatures on any settled worlds That was the thought that Ender took to bed with hiht that preoccupied him even as he made love with Novinha, so that she felt the need to comfort him as if he, not she, were the one burdened with the cares of a world He tried to apologize but soon realized the futility of it Why add to her worries by telling of his own?

Huree hat Ender asked of hi new viruses that ht well transform the life cycle of the pequeninos Oh, Human wouldn't tell the immature males and females But he could--and would--tell all the other fathertrees throughout Lusitania They had a right to knoas going on, and then decide together what, if anything, to do

Before nightfall, every fathertree in every wood knew all that Human knew: of the human plans, and of his estireed with his proceed for now But in the meantiht coo to war against each other We cannot fight and hope to win--but hter us, we can find a way for some of us to flee

So, before dawn, they had eh technology on Lusitania By the next nightfall, the work of building a starship to leave Lusitania had already begun

7

SECRET MAID

Sweat ran down Qing-jao's face Bent over as she was, the drops trickled along her cheeks, under her eyes, and down to the tip of her nose From there her sweat dropped into the muddy water of the rice paddy, or onto the new rice plants that rose only slightly above the water's surface

"Why don't you wipe your face, holy one?"

Qing-jao looked up to see as near enough to speak to her Usually the others on her righteous labor crew did not work close by--it odspoken

It was a girl, younger than Qing-jao, perhaps fourteen, boyish in the body, with her hair cropped very short She was looking at Qing-jao with frank curiosity There was an openness about her, an utter lack of shyness, that Qing-jao found strange and a little displeasing Her first thought was to ignore the girl

But to ignore her would be arrogant; it would be the saodspoken, I do not need to anshen I am spoken to No one would ever suppose that the reason she didn't ansas because she was so preoccupied with the ireat Han Fei-tzu that it was al else

So she answered--but with a question "Why should I wipe my face?"

"Doesn't it tickle? The sweat, dripping down? Doesn't it get in your eyes and sting?"

Qing-jao lowered her face to her work for a few moments, and this time deliberately noticed how it felt It did tickle, and the sweat in her eyes did sting In fact it was quite unco-jao unbent herself to stand straight--and now she noticed the pain of it, the way her back protested against the change of posture "Yes," she said to the girl "It tickles and stings"