Spores. Spores. She knew that now.Finally, the it all made sense. She had eons worth of memories; the biologically-encoded memories of a great race, a... ancient race. The body of knowledge that filled her brain overshadowed all ethical, political, or religious beliefs; her race-memory was all. She had awakened at long last from a prison of petty, weak, female morality and anxiety, And she knew what she had to do.Increase. Reproduce. Again, and again. It was not a means to an end, reproduction. Gold’s maternal grandmother, who he also spent much of his youth with, was Italian and he had easily picked up that lingo as a second language too. He had been with the Intelligence Branch since late September 1940, for about three months before his disappearance four weeks ago. It appeared that the apparent transfer from Bomber to Fighter Command had been maintained as a ruse to cover his redeployment as an intelligence officer, probably because his public profile was so high.I asked Bob if he. " Yes there is. Tell me."Sharon's eyes searched his face and found nothing but love and concern. "Poor little Tig!" she cried bursting into tears. "Louise told me about Edinburgh and then Neil filled me in on the rest. It shouldn't happen to such a sweet girl," she howled. "And poor darling Deborah! Oh God, you must be going through hell, my darling man." She continued to sob into Richard's shoulder."Sharon, darling, did they speak to you?" No-o-o, so I couldn't warn you. Why didn't they speak. We even built her a schoolhouse with desks, books an’ everythin’ she could want. She told the c***dren to call her Miss Alicia an’ so the wives an’ me did too. Some of the younger c***dren called her Momma by mistake, but Miss Alicia didn’t seem bothered by it though she blushed a bit.Whenever things went purdy smooth around the ranch, that wuz bound to be the time for things to go all to hell. Well, not right away. The wives (not all of ‘em at one time) started organizin’ shoppin’ trips to.