Avery cleared the last stand of transplanted oaks fringing the cut valley around Herr Mueller's lodge. Unlike the modest hunting retreat Avery had enjoyed with his father, Herr Mueller had taken advantage of the huge tracts of virgin undeveloped land to build a virtual resort, carefully blended into the landscape to avoid contest with the true owners, the giant grant-holding conglomerate.

Mueller had once remarked to Avery's father that if the conglomerate ever titled out the particular parcel he had pre-empted that he would just build another elsewhere and had waved off warnings and censure.

Not many landholders even knew it existed, and those that did looked the other way. With less than a fifth of the arable land in use, no one cared anyway. It would be generations before even the most temperate zones of Avon would be completely settled.

Close up, the inset frontage of the place was impressive, with large smoked glass picture windows looking out onto a respectable brook that promised good fishing and rafting. The bulk of the lodge, however, was built into the hillside that backed the stream and therefore had the advantage of not being visible from the air. A rustic boat dock and a few suspiciously open, sanded landings along the brook were the only obvious signs of the extensive retreat. The natural vegetation and carefully landscaped oaks canopied the surrounding paths and outbuildings.

Father Abrams, who had begun this part of their travels in bug-eyed awe of the surreal Mr. Brown, now wore an almost irritated expression as he pushed after Avery onto the lodge grounds. Wavering behind the struggling priest, the ephemeral Mr. Brown, continued to dun him with a seemingly endless avalanche of theosophical queries.

"I would be content to hear your explanation of our church doctrine of Papal Infallibility. Is it verified progressively along your time line? What are the precede ..."

"I believe, "interrupted the besieged Father Abrams, "we will need to pursue these questions at another point, Mr. Brown. We seem to have arrived at our destination."

God's Grace! Thought the priest, it is like being closeted with Benn Wile! This creature even sounds like the Bishop.

Avery signaled for a halt, and closely watched the few men passing along the retreats paths,while Daniel and the young Robert emerged to join the group. Then they walked down together towards the lodge. Herr Mueller was already standing in the doorway when they arrived.

"Zo! Vas ist los? Avery, vhat is dat thing you here bring? "

Avery hoisted himself onto the porch. "An agent of the church, Herr Muller, a new species discovered among the stars."

"I am Mr. Brown," it said. "I move things."

"Yes," agreed Avery, "you certainly do. He is here to help us move Gregory off our estates. Yes?"

Mr. Brown vibrated. "I am a Crusader of the Order of the Aquinians, pending. I carry forth the work of the church. You are a friend of Avery?"

With an astonished look, Herr Mueller nodded and reached out a tentative hand toward the Wavie, then withdrew it, realizing Mr. Brown had no hands. "Ve are all friendts here. If Avery sess you are vun, zen it is so."

Mr. Brown vibrated once more, and a large pile of military arms and supplies appeared on the plank floor of the porch. The startled German's face beamed as he took in the cache of supplies.

"Such good friendts you haff, Avery. Mr. Brown, ve must haff a chat ven zis ist over vit."

Avery passed the message texts and instructions they had received at the hunting shack to Muller. As the older landholder read, Avery continued, "The ecumenical forces have a plan. They want us to gather as many of our free people from around the estates as we can, then destroy Gregory's dome. These supplies are to help. I think we should divide our forces, and send half to your estate, Herr Muller, and half to mine. We concentrate on getting one of the missile launchers under control, and turn it on the dome. As soon as one group finishes the dome, we can concentrate on freeing the workers from our two estates and withdraw to the wilds."

"Ya, zis I agree mit. My son vill ze troops at mine estate harass, meanwhile ve vill clear your estate undt Gregory's dome destroy," Muller said. "Also, vonce ve haff attacked, ze troops vill be forewarned, und tinks vill become much harder. Dis vay ve can veaken him right away and releaseze men from two estates. Our land-holds are closest to ze dome, undt it vill be harder to take zem if ve start our resistance elsevere. Also, at ze dome, zey vill haff little time ze missiles off to fend, if from dat close ve fire."

Father Abrams pointed further down the document to the Wavies part of the operation. "Mr.Brown will call his other crusaders just as we attack, and they will try to disarm the mercenaries as we encounter them. Mr. Brown warns us that his crusaders are not very familiar with our arms, and mistakes will be made. Many will likely not be disarmed, or only partially so. It will still be dangerous. You will still face live fire."

"Ya, but zis still good plan ist. Ve blitzkrieg dere beachhead, den hit and run. Gregory hass only zo many men. Mitt ze ecumenical fleet to contend vit, he can import no more. Ve hurt zem bad right away and later zo much easier it vill be." Herr Muller shrugged. "Besides, ve haff no time to come up vit a better plan. Bart!" The younger Muller appeared in the lodge doorway, and stared at Mr. Brown. "Bart!" Herr Muller barked again. The boy shook himself briefly, and the stunned look faded from his features.

"Dad?"

Franklin Mueller waved at the gear piled on the porch. "Pass out zis equipment. Start mitt dose dat unarmed ztill are. Zen upgrade ze ozzers. Get zem all up here. Ve vill be leaving soon." Looking at Father Abrams, the,thick-set German crossed himself, and asked, "Could you gif us, your blessing, Fazzer? Ve vill, all ze aid of providence need, zis day."

Avery helped the booming Mr.Mueller and his son organize the men at the lodge, and things got,under way. Mueller strode to the fore, exhorting his son and the group that were to follow him, then sent them off. The bulk of the stranded workers bunched behind or straggled after Avery and the portly German, back the way Avery had come, towards the domes of St. Croix. It took longer for the larger group to make any distance, and they did not reach the clearing where Avery and Father Abrams had stayed until well after dark. The extra time required turned out to be as exhausting as a longer trudge would have been. Many simply dropped down on blankets, feeling secure from predation in their numbers, or too tired to care.

"Post guard, I should make some of zem," groused Muller. But ze Sprang traps, this job zay will half to do. Zees men, too pooped are, undt zey would just nod off, any-vay."

Avery agreed, adding "I don't think there will be any forest patrols, at least this far from the estates. The traps, they will activate for men as easily as for the Sprangs. We would have some warning. We can set the traps to make noise if approached."

"Ya, zat is so. Besides, only a few any military training half."

Both opened their packs and set out their hunter's sleepers. Then Avery went to find Father Abrams, to help him erect his.

A small cook fire had been set by the few who were more hungry than footsore. These sat around the low flames heating various eatables on the end of long sticks. Some of the things seemed to be just pierced cans, others cooked sausages, and at least one small animal someone had managed to catch on the march. Occasionally a stick dipped to low, sending a few sparks sailing upwards.

Father Abrams stood beyond this group, talking with the decidedly strange entity called Mr.Brown. Mr. Brown floated up past Father Abram's shoulders, and as Avery watched, slowly sank down onto his head. None of the men, who were close to the fire, occupied with the art of heating their dinner without burning the skewers, saw this.

At his distance, Avery did, but, not knowing what to think of it, approached the fire and detailed a few of the men to set out traps out away from the clearing. By the time this was sorted out, most of the men had finished their quick culinary exercise, so he kicked out the remains of the fire, and continued again towards the priest. Mr. Brown had since left, and Abrams now stood alone, staring up into the dark skies.

The priest turned when Avery came up from behind, but seemed to look through, rather than at him,in a pensive, if untroubled, stare.

"I thought to help you put your lean-to up. Would that be all right?"

Abrams seemed to refocus on him, and waved distractedly off to the left. "One of the farm workers helped me with it already, my son, but your were kind to ask."

"I could not help but see the, ah, Mr. Brown that is, perched on you like a holiday mask, before I came. You two seemed to be talking, then it made this alarming move. Was this something I should be concerned about?

Abram's eyes widened a little, and he shook his head. "Oh! No, I wouldn't think so. There was no harm in it. No harm."

"So when I saw you and this... Mr. Brown...by the fire, that pyramid of him on you like a hat, I was understandably worried, of course."

Father Abrams nodded. "yes, I can understand your concern. It was just an experiment, a trade of perspective, if you will. He said he could see my 'node' and offered me a trade."

"What kind of trade?"

"Ah. To See ourselves as others see us, so to speak. To trade perspectives, he said."

"And did you?"

Abrams nodded. "Not the way I thought he meant, but, yes. Spectacularly."

"Can you describe what it was you saw?."

Abrams sat silent, thinking for a moment, then said, "It was like the difference between those diagrams of sound waves, and what they really are. The actuality you know them to be."

Father Abrams worked his hands hesitantly in front of him, as if caressing a softball. "I once spent a lot of time looking at diagrams of sounds and waves. The, eh, the library of New Vatica was installing a paging system. The head librarian had told the technician he wanted no echoes, a muted sombre voice only, so as not to disturb the research that goes on there. The place has tall ceilings, you see."

Avery didn't, but having had words with the good father before, just nodded and let the priest set his own pace.

"The man took many readings of the library room's sonic qualities. The installer spent a lot of time with me explaining, showering me with diagrams and such. Mostly, all were in two dimensions; views of peaks and troughs,like side views of ocean waves. It is easy to forget somehow, he mentioned, that the reality is not these useful, but incredibly wrong, graphic efforts. Sound wells out from sources in explosions of compression, in expanding spheres of fronts, and there are millions of them, impacting on each other, slapping and disturbing each other, even creating new ones from their collisions, that also bloom out, casting their own expanding and inter-penetrating globular fronts. Most interact, and some cancel each other at places, shaping to different forms at others, or reinforcing each other at times. Yet listening, we manage to sort it all out easily enough, which is amazing, almost impossible, if you consider it."

Avery waited patiently. This was obviously difficult for Abrams, and Avery was as concerned as he was curious.

"Everything, it seems,"continued Abrams, "is made of some complex of vibration, and all that there is, takes on some aspect of this. Sound to ultrasonics, to radio waves, to microwaves to x-rays, to cosmic rays, heat, light, even matter itself. All a symphony of inter-penetrating vibration. Like electrons that exist, according to atomic cloud theory, where we expect them, only as a probability and at a lower likelyhood, perhaps billions of miles away. Mr Brown showed me...some of the truth of this. That's how vibrations are. That's how everything is, given the right viewpoint.

"That is what I saw, eh, experienced. Only, that the waves of his reality bear the same resemblance to sonic vibrations as two dimensional graphics do to the sounds they represent. Not colors, forms, shapes, distances, but a vibrating, interacting, periodic yet timeless state of waves and the collisions, the piling up of them. My soul was one. I sensed it, pulsing out to everywhere. I felt centered, but could see that if I wanted, I could just as easily be there, as here, because I was also there, as much as I was anyplace else, a complex propagated wave-state, shuttling across the cosmic bubble, with everything else...everywhere else. Size, distance, were meaningless. There were patterns. Some of them I could sort out from it all. Many...most, I couldn't. Beneath it all and everywhere, the out-coiling, vibrating strings of everything...I could sense how the Wavies could move, no, not move...be, here or there, instantly. The Wavies exist beyond all that, really. That's just the limited view I could glean from my communion with Mr. Brown. More an epiphany than a revelation, not a religious experience, but miraculous. No more of the divine in it than can be seen anywhere, but certainly no less. Does that answer your question? I could just as well say, you had to be there, and leave it at that, if you prefer."

Avery mused. "I suppose, it is, as you say, impossible to describe, but you did try. Thank you for that. What did Mr. Brown gain from all this?"

"Oh, he was ecstatic! He called us fascinating and blessed! He saw our world as we see it, colors, and forms and perspective! Warmth and cold and motion! All, he said, contained as a model within each and every one of us, shared, yet separate and independently generated. He said we form things from it, build within it, work and live in it, draw our needs from it, make it our own. He was astonished, and wondered at our power of mind to do that. He said it was beautiful."

Worry haunted Avery's gaze. "Did the experience, did it have any permanent effect on you, do you think? You are all right?"

Abrams fell silent, considering. "I don't think I was changed, I feel no different. Wiser maybe for the glimpse, but truth to tell, I agree with Mr. Brown. There is a luxury of wonder in how we see this universe of ours, and it hasn't stopped us from puzzling a good deal of it out. It was a revealing, changing experience, but in the sense you mean, no. No, it didn't madden or warp me, I don"t believe."

Avery shook his head. "Not something you should try again, Father. We know little of these beings, helpful as they may be. You could have had your mind destroyed, or been whisked away permanently, a million things."

Abrams agreed. "I have no intention of repeating the experiment. I wasn't sure what he meant at the time," he blushed. "I was curious."

Avery looked at Abrams intently, but eventually turned away without further comment.

Abrams stood alone awhile, taking in the muted voices of the forest. Everyone else had retired for the night. Looking up, he could see a glittering forever of bright stars above the clearing's limited horizon. He noted one in particular, then lifted his left hand, and stared at it. A dim glow bloomed above his fingers, a orange sized ball of boiling flame. Small flares breached out from it , to curve back and be swallowed by it. It seemed to revolve within itself. The image faded. Abrams lowered his hand, returned to his shelter and retired.

***

Diocullis revolved the small switch pack in his hand and asked Arlyis, "Can you dope out the signal this generates and boost it?"

Arlyis looked at it while leaning against the corridor wall of the CHRISTOS. "Sure, once you know what frequency it's broadcasting on, no problem. What is it?"

"This," said Michael, "is a present from one of Gregory's pet scientists. We now know what the man is trying to sell. He's figured out how to build a machine that does what the Wavies do - without the Wavies."

"Oh, no."

"Oh yes, he has. "Dio nodded, lifting his brows. "He intends to demonstrate its power on the Earth fleet, and then open up bidding to all comers, or just license the tech out, or something even more heinous. We don't know how far he has taken the concept. Safe to assume he has put together some pretty impressive military applications. He apparently thinks he can reserve some of the technology, and sell the rest. Impossible, of course. Once any of it is released, sooner or later, someone will back-engineer the rest. The demon will be out of its bottle."

"What does the signal do?"

"Funny you should ask,"Dio said wryly. "It saves our bacon. The scientist that provided it didn't like where this was all going, so he built an 'off' switch into Gregory's prototype and managed to sneak the switch out to us somehow. Mr. Brown, one of Wile's Wavies, picked it up for us."