"We ain't decided anything yet!" Constance exclaimed. "It wasn't our choice to come here—we were shrugged off as an inconvenience the moment things went a little sideways! And now I'm doing what a colonist is supposed to do: Adapting! Making the best of it!"
Lamont surveyed the busy scene. It was a striking contrast to the lackadaisical atmosphere that he had seen developing over the past two weeks that the tower had been occupied. He made a quick head count.
"It looks as if just about everyone in the tower is part of this group now," he observed. "Is Miss Anna by herself?"
Constance shrugged uncomfortably. "More or less. Folks go to look in on her every now and then, of course."
"Why is she keeping her distance?" Lamont inquired. "To my eye, what's happening here is an improvement."
"Go ask her," Constance replied, fidgeting. "I reckon she'll grant you an earful."
Lamont met the young woman's gaze steadily. "I will. But right now I'm asking you. Because I get the distinct impression that all this is somehow your doing."
"You know how Anna is," Constance said, beginning to walk in the direction of the platform where Abner was giving his presentation. "She's guided by those visions of hers."
"Before we arrived here, she had a vision of the colonists being divided in two by a sort of cyclops with a sword," Lamont recalled. "It occurs to me that when we first saw the moon below, it was superimposed in front of the gas giant we're orbiting in a way that looked very much like a pupil and its iris. And I suppose you could say that the tower resembles a sword."
"Right," Constance agreed, "and for a while the folks who came here were divided into two camps: One that wanted to commune with the statue in the grove, and the other that didn't. But look: That problem's been solved! We're all working together again. The portent's been diverted. You'd think she'd be grateful."
"But she isn't," Lamont noted.
Constance shook her head grimly. They were now standing about ten yards from where Abner was animatedly answering questions about a small object he held. "No," she admitted, "because she's convinced that what's happening here is diverting another prophecy too. A good one."
Lamont thought for a moment. "The planet with the purple sky," he concluded.
Constance nodded.
Lamont looked at her fixedly. "That would only be true if the colonists decided to stay here indefinitely."
"We ain't decided anything yet!" Constance exclaimed. "It wasn't our choice to come here—we were shrugged off as an inconvenience the moment things went a little sideways! And now I'm doing what a colonist is supposed to do: Adapting! Making the best of it!"
Her outburst was loud enough that Abner stopped talking to look at her. Those gathered around him, and a few of the other refugees who were engaged in various activities nearby, turned their eyes to her as well.
Following Lamont's gaze, Constance seemed to realize that she was suddenly the center of attention. Her eyes flashed at him briefly, and she continued the course she had been walking, briskly making her way up the steps of the platforming and standing beside Abner, who looked up at her with surprise.
"What would you rather do?" She asked, projecting her voice so that it carried across the entire group.