The debate was already in full swing as Cadmann entered the town hall. The hall fairly shimmered with the aromas of the communal meal: mutton and turkey, bakery smells, mustard greens, and steamed corn fresh from the fields. It was a laughing, murmuring, jostling family chaos. Three hundred, nearly every Earth Born, most of the Star Born, all of the Grendel Scouts, many children. There were tables and seats for more than seven hundred, and that was a re-minder of what population they had expected to have before the grendels nearly destroyed them.

The tables were tiered in amphitheater rows beneath the corrugated roof, grouped around a central stage. And on that stage a tall, stocky, golden young man stood at the podium, commanding their attention by his words and stance and very being. His voice was a master orator's. Every word from the thin, sensuous mouth cut as precisely as a razor. He was Cadmann's height, and beautifully muscled. A shock of flaxen hair fell to his shoulders. His eyes were a startling blue-green, electric in their intensity. Tau Ceti had burnt his eyebrows so blond they were almost white.

The young man's cheeks were healthfully hollow, his every motion perfectly judged as he emphasized his major points. Almost every sentence was punctuated by a cheer from the Surf's Up contingent, come inland for the weekly debate.

Aaron Tragon. Star Bom indeed.

Cadmann listened distractedly as he found his way to the table reserved for him by Carlos and Angelica, the thin dark surgeon who was Carlos's most recent companion.

"—ladies in the audience will agree that the automatic tendency of most males is to assume a power structure which escalates from woman to man to God Almighty. This, at any rate, was the most frequent view of the nineteenth century—"

Cadmann slipped in next to Carlos and slapped his shoulder. "Hola, Carlos."

"Hola."

"Hello, Dad."

Cadmann smiled warmly at his younger son. "Ho. What brings you down from the mines?"

Mickey shrugged and looked at Mary Ann, but he didn't say anything, which was typical for Mickey. He seldom talked and when he did not many listened to him. Mickey was smart enough, but somehow he hadn't learned to communicate.

Cadmann stood to hug Mary Ann, and kiss Sylvia briefly. "How's the debate going?"

"Stevens is in trouble."

"Has Aaron reached the Refutatio yet?"

"Beyond that. He's in the Digressio, and I suspect that the Peroratio will be an ass-kicker."

"I like the subject—"

Even without electronic enhancement, Aaron Tragon's voice rose up to embrace them. "—Shelley's modern Prometheus intended to steal not the flames of a distant Olympus, but those of Woman. And how natural for men, reading Frankenstein, to be deceived by her into believing that it spoke of a man's attempt to steal the divine privilege."