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〃And the boy is right；〃 Rem added。 〃There isn't much time。〃
CHAPTER TWENTY…SEVEN
Why are Terrestrials so surprised there was no fossil evidence or other indication of the Flower's origin left behind on Earth or the Pollinators' either？ Hasn't it penetrated yet that we are talking about Haydon？
Cabell； Zor and the Great Transition
Even set in a row as they were； locked on their thrones on the flying carpet like so many trophies on a mantelpiece； the Robotech Elders made their acid resentment known…by their eyes； their mental timbre； their very aura。 Why are you not mustering your war machines？ You must crush the Amazons！
Haydon was One again； standing afoot； as he rarely did； far across the machine plain； tall as a peak。 Nevertheless； he caught their sour； almost pouting thought。
Haydon turned to them； rising from the alloy flatland and drifting toward the fantastic tower on whose pinnacle they rested。 He was so huge that winds moaned and swirled in turbulence at his passing。 Even at that thin…aired height； his head loomed above them。
YOU ARE SUCH PETTY AND UNTHINKING ORGANISMS。 NO WONDER YOU CAME TO THE PITIFUL STATE IN WHICH I FOUND YOU。
The Elders shot back； You need the Flowers！
I HAVE ALREADY MADE THAT KNOWN TO THE PRAXIANS； the great head sent forth its words。
What？ No！ You must take them by surprise； smash all resistance with your first blow！ The artificial world must al璻eady be depleted by construction of the sphere ships； surely it could not sustain a prolonged war。
Haydon drew back； light as a feather though he stirred immense air currents with his movement。 YOU KNOW NOTHING。 THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO ACPLISH GOALS BESIDES MURDER AND DESTRUCTION。
As he hung in the air； Haydon worked yet another change upon himself。 This time the Elders were so shocked that even their crotchety sourness of spirit failed them。
Power systems had long since been installed on New Praxis； but tonight's ceremony decreed the light of torches。
The city had the look of traditional Amazonian architecture； which often reminded humans of a blend of classical Japanese and Dark Ages Nordic。 Here； though； it was worked in local materials； the rough…cut stone being little different but the lumber taken from Flowers permitted to grow to massive fruition。 Though the feud wars of the Praxians had ended generations ago； their buildings still had the look of fortifications。
The importance of the Second Generation Flowers went far beyond building supplies。 As the only plex plant that would thrive in Opteran soil； it sustained much of the CO2…oxygen cycle that made the planet inhabitable。 Thus； much of the Praxians' effort at recolonization had been directed at a third seeding of the place。
Down the center way of their rebuilt city the Sisterhood came in a throng； marching somberly； torches held high。 They were turned out in their best armor and accoutrements； weapons sharpened and polished； their fantastic war helms burnished。
At the end of the main avenue of their old cities was usually the Whaashi； a birthing center or creche。 Though the women warriors knew nothing of courtship； sexuality； or pregnancy； at least until the Sentinels War； the monolithic Whaashi saw to it that their race endured。 It had always been so； since the legend times of Haydon's appearance。
That was no Whaashi； though； at the end of the main thoroughfare of the new Sisterhood capital of Zanshar。 It was a big block of a place； reminiscent of the birthing places； but had been built with Tirolian and human help…because all the Whaashi had been lost when Praxis had been rent by planetary apocalypse。
Among the Sisters trooping along in silence with their fluttering firebrands； a few smaller figures could be seen…a child sheltered under the flow of a mother's embroidered cape or walking alongside； trotting to keep up。
They were children…all female。 Some were from the Praxians' contact with humans or； in a handful of cases； clones of Tirol。 But they were few； and while they were loved； they were not the offspring of the Whaashi； and the rites and gifts of the Whaashi were ingrained in the Amazon psyche。
The building at the end of the avenue was another kind of lifeplace； where the sciences of Tirol could bring forth clones of Sisters who longed for progeny。 These children； too； were cherished and made wele； but they were not the blessing of the Whaashi； either； and most Sisters yearned for the mental munion with the Whaashi that brought forth a new and destined infant。
Waiting at the top of the steps at the cloning center was Bela； a rank of guardswomen below her； also bearing torches。 As the crowd entered the plaza before her and spread out to fill it； Bela threw back her campaign greatcloak to expose her sword hilt； its grip wound in golden wire； its pommel a flashing blue gem held in a claw of black iron。 From the other side of her belt hung a big； use…worn Badger pistol。
She rested her gauntleted hand on the sword hilt。 Out of the sky darted a bright shape of silver…blurring double wing sets。 Hagane； Bela's malthi； perched on her shoulder and gave a piercing warning cry。 When the Sisters had poured into the plaza and there was silence； Bela spoke。
〃I have had the dreams； even as all of you have。 I have seen the reports of how the stars are disappearing from the sky。 What these things mean； I do not know。 Yet； as we were called to this place and time by voices within us； so we have e。
〃Has Haydon truly spoken to us？ I cannot say； and all the reports and messages from other worlds are in conflict and confusion。 But the dream I dreamed showed me a rebuilt Whaashi； even as it did you； and…〃
She stopped； feeling a presence behind her。 Hagane uttered a jarring whistle but then fell uncharacteristically silent。 The throng gasped； and Bela turned to see Haydon。 It took her a moment to find her tongue。
〃Greetings； O Mother；〃 Bela cried； and kowtowed。 The rest of the Praxians genuflected。
Over them hung the image of the changed Haydon； a Haydon of the Yin aspect。 The conformations of the blank skull； the contours of the vast body under its cloak； the very emanations the figure gave off…these left nothing in doubt。 Haydon was as Haydon had been in a bygone age。
The final proof lay in the tone of the mindvoice； unmistakably feminine。 AS I SAID I WOULD SO LONG AGO； I HAVE E BACK TO THE SISTERHOOD OF PRAXIS。
The figure had e from nowhere and might as easily have been some transignal image or holograph。 But the Praxians' inner senses knew differently。
〃We thank you；〃 the thousands of voices murmured together。
It was the great secret the Praxians had hidden from all others； even their Sentinel allies： the distaff side of Haydon's Godhead that had made itself manifest nowhere else in the universe。
I WILL RESTORE THE WHAASHI。 AND IN RETURN YOU WILL DO THAT WHICH I REQUIRE OF YOU。
Bela had always considered herself devout； and the very thought of a new Whaashi was enough to make her heart leap。 But something had happened to her in her service with the Sentinels； experiences that had taught her that a leader could not afford the simple； open faith that others clung to。
Thus； when the glad shouts of the A