
right!" Ria cried, referring to their pet, which lived in an aviary behind the house.
"Munna's fine," Rand said. "She'll just fly away if anything bad happens." But Ria slipped free of her
brother's grasp and dashed across the basement floor.
She never made it to the stairs. In a single movement the earth convulsed and split apart beneath them, a
chasm suddenly yawning between brother and sister. Wooden beams and chunks of metal and glass
rained down around them as their house ripped nearly in half. None of the destruction registered on
Rand, though. All he could see was his younger sister as she teetered on the edge of the gaping chasm,
then toppled backward into it.
Nor was he aware of a quick violet flicker in one corner of the basement near the ceiling... or of the
small, glittering sphere which abruptly materialized there, hovering, light winking from its surface.
The only thing in Rand's mind, as he dove forward and lunged to grab a scrap of Ria's clothing, was the
fervent, soul-deep wish that the tremors would stop, that the ground would close, that everything would
go back to the way it was before the earthquakes started.
The glittering silver sphere revolved, gleamed once-and a sheet of violet energy exploded from it, blasting
outward from Rand and Ria's house to encompass all of Yirgopolis, all of its surrounding countryside, in
slightly less than two seconds.
The shockwaves traveling through the earth rapidly slowed, then stopped altogether, canceled out by a
strange new vibration through the rocks and soil. Just as quickly, massive spikes of violet brilliance
erupted from the ground and joined together, pulling the ruptured earth closed again, setting aright the
toppled buildings, effecting millions of tiny repairs within the space of a heartbeat.
Then, before any witnessing Keorgans even had time to process what they saw, the violet energy
crackled and vanished.
In the basement of their home, Rand found himself holding a sobbing Ria in his arms, crouched on a floor
that only revealed its earlier destruction in the form of the tiniest of hairline cracks.
Yirgopolis breathed again, pulled back from the brink of grinding, shattering death.
And as Rand comforted his sister, the glittering silver sphere, still unseen, gleamed once more and faded
out of existence, leaving only an odd, deep whispering voice
"Test Program One complete. Sentients compatible with interface parameters. Readying Test Program
Two."
In his laboratory, Harland sprawled on his back on the floor, staring up at the computer's central monitor
as the violet energy matrix faded from the screen. It took him a few moments to realize Silveris was
speaking to him.
"They've stopped! The shockwaves have completely stopped!"
Harland glanced over at Silveris, who kept looking from his seismic readout to a window onto the city
and back again. Silveris rushed to Harland's side as the older man got to his feet.
"You did it, sir! You made the system respond!"
A little shakily, Harland approached the control array, then ran his hand over it. He got no response... the
energy matrix had gone. The great machine stood cold and lifeless. But Silveris was correct the system
had stopped the shockwaves. It had saved Yirgopolis from destruction. And he had brought it to life.
Somehow, in some way, he had woken the machine from its slumber, if only briefly.
The ground beneath no longer trembled... but Harland knew it could only be a temporary reprieve.
"I will understand you," he whispered. "I will."
He went back to work, more determined now than ever.
Chapter Two
The maximum-security cells on Starbase 27 would not have been described as roomy. Or cozy. Or