“You know I couldn’t, even if I wanted to,” the Ulik responded. “I don’t run this world, no matter what you may think. Self-interest runs the world here, just like everywhere else. He’s trying to get into the Well to switch it off, make repairs. Too many nervous governments here to allow that.”

“But the Well World’s on a separate machine,” Gypsy pointed out. “His turning off the big machine won’t really do anything here. They all should know that much, anyway.”

Ortega shrugged all six arms. “They only know what I know and they only believe a fraction of that. We have only Brazil’s word on that sort of thing. And if we take him at his word, then this new universe he’s going to create will need seeds, new Markovian seeds like the last time. This planet was built to provide those seeds. If we take him at his word on how the system works, he’ll depopulate the Well World in that reseeding. The Well governments face extinction, Mister Gypsy, or whoever you are. No getting around that!”

“Not if you help,” the man came back. “You and I know that the natives are already murdering hordes of newcomers in many hexes. There are proposals simply to kill everything that comes in through the Well Gate. You gotta stop that, Ortega. One way or another. Don’t you understand? These newcomers are the seeds!”

The Ulik’s jaw dropped in amazement. “Of course! That makes sense! I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. Senility, I guess. But—just saying so won’t make the plan acceptable. They’re scared, mister. Scared little people. They won’t take chances.”

“But you can stall, do what you can. Your influence is still pretty strong here. You know it and I know it. You got blackmail on most of those little men. We need time, Ortega. We need you to help us get that time.”

Serge Ortega leaned back and sighed once again. “So what’s your plan?”