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Nen Yim actually reeled at the force of the statement, and for a moment she stood paralyzed, unable to think. To contradict Shimrra—

She drew her strength back to her core. “That is so, Dread One,” she admitted. “As it is, it is an abomination. And yet, at its heart the biotechnology is similar to our own. The infidel engines, for instance, could be withdrawn and replaced with dovin basals. The living structure of one of our own vessels could have such a ship grown around it. This biotechnology is compatible with our own.”

“Compatible?” Shimrra growled. “Are you saying that this is one of our ships, somehow transfigured by the infidels?”

“No,” Nen Yim replied. “In outward form, this thing is very different from our vessels. The hull is not yorik coral. The architectures of our ships were derived from various creatures of the homeworld, and those structures can still be recognized in their design. The alien technology is different. It begins with relatively undifferentiated organisms that specialize as the ship grows. I suspect that some sort of manipulation is involved in the ontological process to guide the final outcome. That is why they used a rigid frame to grow the ship around—developmentally, it had no internal code to produce such a structure on its own.”

“And yet you still maintain it is similar to our gods-given ships?”

“At the most basic level, yes. Cellularly. Molecularly. And that is the most unlikely level at which we should expect to find resemblance.”

“Again. Could the infidels have stolen our technology and distorted it?”

“It’s possible. But according to the qahsa, the planet of its origin is itself a living organism—”

“That is a lie,” Shimrra said. “It is a lie because it is impossible. Ekh’m Val was deluded. He was duped by the infidels.”

Nen Yim hesitated at that, but could not directly dispute it even if she wanted to.

Instead, she took another approach.

“I’m relieved to hear this,” she said. “I thought the tale unlikely myself.” She drew herself straighter. “Still, there is nothing in the protocols that could account for a ship like this, nor do I think this technology is a result of the manipulation of our technology. It is both alien and similar to our own.”

Shimrra was silent for a moment. Then his voice came again, leashed terror.

“It is not superior.”

“No, Dread Lord. Just different.”

“Of course. And you can develop weapons against it?”

“I can. Indeed, Lord, there are already weapons in the protocols that would be most effective against technology of this sort. Oddly, they are weapons we have never built or had use for.”

“As if the gods anticipated this necessity.”

Nen Yim tried to keep her thoughts quiet.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Excellent. You will assign a team to develop these weapons immediately. And you will continue to study the ship.”

“It would be helpful, Great Lord, if I had other examples of the technology.”

“No such exists. The planet was destroyed. You have all that remains.”

Then why do you want weapons against … Nen Yim started to think, but savagely cut herself off.

“Yes, Supreme Overlord.”

With a wave of his massive hand, Shimrra dismissed her.

A cycle later, Nen Yim settled onto a sitting hummock in her private hortium and regarded Ahsi Yim. The younger shaper was narrower in every dimension than Nen Yim, and her blue-gray flesh had an opalescent sheen about it. Her attentive eyes were a rare shade of bronze.

Her master’s hand was very new, but they were peers.

“What brought you to the heresy, Ahsi Yim?” she asked softly.

The other master considered this quietly for a moment. The fine silver tendrils of lim trees groped feebly about the room in search of sustenance. Plants from the homeworld with no obvious use, Nen Yim had resurrected them from genetic patterns in the Qang qahsa. They pleased her.

“I worked on the changing of Duro,” she said at last. “On the surface of things, on the record, we worked strictly by the protocols. And yet, often the protocols were not suitable. They were not sufficiently