The Seed Ship. My home for the next hundred revolutions. Bigger than most other ships in the armada, and brighter than all, with sun lamps in the ceiling so bright one had to squint into them. I put Odum in the hands of a young female, Ava was her name, and sent them to the elder with word that I would visit within a turn or so. Ava had seemed at a loss; she stared at me with open mouth. I took her in hand, turned her to face the camp.

“Go,” I whispered in her ear, and off she scampered, Odum on her heels.

My stroll to the central tree was warm and bright. I was happy. I whistled a happy tune. By the time I reached the tree, I had worked up a sweat and a thirst. I sated my thirst just inside the tree at our fount, an engine that generated cool water and continuously fed the four streams that watered our fields outside. Each of the four great arches had a fountain spigot. This was considered the first as it faced the first of four agricultural quadrants.

The central tree employed a lift that accessed not only the work stations and housing below but the dome observatory above. My primary intent was to greet Nathan, my ancient counterpart, and relieve him of his command. Nathlan was more the contemporary of my father than me, nevertheless, I held him close to my heart. I took the lift down, touching every surface as I went. I absorbed each sensation pointedly as if I had been away forever.

The lift door opened into the work stations. The air was cooler, crisp. Before me was the GUF, a crystal sphere three times my height. Below the polished surface seemed to be an interior that swirled with a pulsing mysterious mist. The changing hues, and deeper tones, gave vent to the occasional surface crawling tint. Glittering sparks of fire seemed to rise and fall like bubbles in a cauldron. It thrilled me more than I could say.

That main work station we called the ark. Eight walls surrounded the lift and GUF. Each wall housed revolving banks of locked stasis chambers, sixteen high, sixteen wide. In the chambers could be found seeds and embryos from countless star systems. Every molecular one could imagine was housed here. Between the eight walls were doorways opening on the tunnels that snaked beneath our fields to each of the stations.

I followed the tunnel to the station called Rest. Nathlan should have been there making preparations for his return to the throne ship. He was absent and his area gave every appearance he had left early. I locked Nathlan's compartment and opened mine. Mine was the smaller of the two, but still quite homey. A bunk, a seat, a table, and access nodes – what more could a soul ask for? As I was not yet fully atomic, my compartment was also equipped with toilet and bath.

Both compartments opened onto a lounge where one might entertain guests. Many happy turns had I spent there in the company of my dearest friends. My brother, having become a full atomic, visited less frequently than most. He much preferred Mikal's, company. I did not see it then, But we had started down different paths. He was a planet maker. Terra-forming was his craft but he had a deep love for the military, for things forceful and violent.

Well, Nathlan was gone and I did not wish to be alone so soon after rousing. I wanted to visit the dome observatory and I needed to prepare for the lottery but all that could wait. My thoughts turned to the Kee. I wanted to visit the elder. I had no idea if the elder Kee was even still alive; he could have died and been replaced in the time that I was gone. A hundred revolutions is a very long time for the Kee. Still, I very much desired to see my old friend, Thusa.

Thusa had always seemed old for his age. Perhaps I mean mature. An image of him walked through my thoughts. He favored his right leg and leaned heavily on his cane. I well remember the accident that forever changed his gentle stride. A wild horse in the second fourth had trampled the young Kee. It took six others to pull him from under the spooked mare. My brother had only just arrived when I got word of the injury.

Upon news of the incident, I had bolted from my brother's presence. Upon reflection, I believe I should have said something; I should have at least excused myself. I was seated in the dirt and holding young Thusa's head in my lap when my brother caught up with me, a fine fire smoldering in his reptilian eyes. I had sent the Kee scurrying for supplies of cloth and water.

I forget the exact words, but my brother railed on me savagely. I had agreed to accompany him to the ceremony for Mikal, who had just graduated to tier one, but I simply could not go with Thusa in need of immediate care. I asked his forgiveness and begged to be excused but he fumed and frothed, accusing me of loving the primitive Kee more than my own brother. He turned and stormed away in a rage. His absence gaped like an open wound. I had no notion how that wound might be dressed.

After the ceremony, he was assigned to the new planet. We would be separated until the armada arrived. I had lost all opportunity to approach him. He was simply gone. I would not see him again for a painfully long time, and because of temporal differences between his light speed and the reduced speed of the armada, I knew that when next we met, he would be changed. I did not understand the technical terms as well as most, but I knew that the difference between us would span many thousands of cycles.

For all I knew, my brother might return to me as old as Nathlan but thoughts of the elder ones were not sown broadcast. The elder I most wished to see was Thusa. I hoped beyond hope that I would find him living. I hurried my preparations, settled the transition without Nathlan, checked all readings on the main controls, and found myself standing outside the central tree beyond the entrance that faced our dock. I shaded my eyes with one hand to look around.

While many ships in our armada had floors and tiers, with levels and layers, some rising from their main floors so high as to strain the neck, my ship had geography. Within the four broad divisions of the Seed Ship, one might find hills and fields, woods and plains, streams, and ponds. Unlike the rest of the armada, on my ship, one might actually stumble over a rock. I turned to my left and walked toward the first fourth. My feet were light and my spirit easy.

Cultivated areas stretched away on my right and on my left as I followed the simple earthen path. I saw wheat and grapes, melons, leeks, and beans. Birds sailed effortlessly overhead, and as I passed a teaming pond, I watched the dance of dragonflies among the high reeds. A fish leapt, a frog called, and a small turtle slid from a mossy stone at my approach. The path led me uphill into a stand of thick conifers. Light dimmed among the trees and the air was cool. Cutting through the trees was one of our four streams; a simple wooden bridge spanned the stream. I walked through a garden in a ship that traveled between stars.

Beyond the bridge, a thinning among the trees held twelve of the diminutive Kee, bare feet on well-worn dirt. They awaited my approach and I saw among them my new friend Odum and the young female I had sent him off with. They were a new generation and all of them were unfamiliar to me. As I came to a halt with a happy greeting on my lips, I saw the lot of them fall to their knees. Ava took Odum by one hand to pull him down with her.

This was new to me. At first, I did not understand. I had always found their race to be deferential, but this took matters too far. It troubled me to be set so far above them in their esteem. I wanted nothing more than to be their equal.

“Stand,” I asked. “Please.

No one moved. I reached down and pulled Odum to his feet. He looked nervously about, wrung his hands, and sank back to his knees. I watched them for a moment. They dared not move or make a sound. Wide-eyed, Odum looked from me to Ava and back again. Clearly, we were both at a loss. With a smile for my friend, I crossed my legs and sat before them.

“Sit with me,” I said in a somewhat commanding tone.

Ava looked up into my eyes. She made clicking noises with her tongue as she led her welcoming party into cross-legged attentive postures. I could have laughed with delight; Odum scrambled to the new posture as if Ava was a tier-three giving orders in a drill.

Assured of their attention, I said, “My name is 5E5. Many call me Sais; my dearest friends may call me Jeez.”

Slowly, the whole group intoned my name, “Jeez . . .” as if the name was an invocation.

I continued, “I am very happy to meet all of you. I hope we may be friends. If you would like to be my friend, then, I ask this favor from you. Never bow down to me, or to any man. I would like you to feel at ease around me. We are equals. I ask for no special attention. Whatever you do around each other, do around me. Talk, laugh, work . . . think of me as a very tall Kee.”

They laughed and seemed to relax a bit. I thought I might have gotten through with unaccustomed ease; I thought I might have put an end to their disproportionate reverence. I sat before them with a hand on each of my knees, watching as they looked between themselves for assurances. Odum looked to Ava, but Ava looked only at me.

A strange thing happened at that moment. Three white butterflies flew between us. That got our attention, theirs and mine. They were a beautiful small species that held, as I recalled, some cultural significance to the Kee. I watched them flutter before my face, and then to our mutual surprise, one of them landed on my forehead. I was hesitant to move as I believed it to be one of nature's special moments. The two remaining butterflies spiraled down to my right hand, where both sat momentarily. Finally, one of them flew to my left hand.

I could have smiled, I almost did, but the smile was lost as it formed. The group of Kee intoned my name again, “Jeez . . .” It smacked of superstition, which I've always hated.

“Alright,” said I, brushing away the butterflies, “This is what I want. Ava, take your group and walk ahead of me. Let them know I come to see the elder. Odum will walk with me. Now, be off and do as a say.”

Dutifully, Ava gathered all but Odum and ran down the path to the Kee encampment. The dirt of the path was cool to the touch, overhead heat lamps made me feel warm and lazy. The calm quiet between Odum and me was pleasing. Odum had held his tongue, never letting his eyes stray from me. I sighed.

“Odum,” I recall saying, “please don't treat me like I'm special. I'm not special, I'm just . . . me.”

He looked at me without blinking, so I added, “If you ever want to say something to me, just say it.”

Clearly, I was not getting through. Ava and her companions had affected Odum in some way. I said, “Shall we go on, then? I want to see the elder. I hope he is still alive. Have you heard of Thusa?”

Odum nodded, blinked, and swallowed. “Father father father,” said he.