

Gingezel 4: Hacker

by

Judi Suni Hall, PhD. and Donald S. Hall, PhD.

Copyright Gingezel™ Inc. 2013

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. The science fiction is set centuries in the future, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Judi Suni Hall

Smashwords Edition License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Also by Judi and Don Hall, published at Smashwords:

Gingezel 1: The Limit

Gingezel 2: From Bad to Worse

Gingezel 3: Fault

*****

Chapter 1

Joran Lantonnel came into the hotel sitting room still toweling his long black hair. Galaxy that had been some night! A satisfied smile spread across his black face. He, as Anton, was back as a galaxy level act. He yawned, stretched, and studied himself in a mirror. Not too many signs of aftermath. Presumably women liked his more haggard look since he'd had plenty of offers after the concert. Good thing he had lost those extra two kilos shaping up to go on tour, as he'd ended up almost naked onstage. Joran yawned again. He couldn't remember when he'd had so much fun. Thanks to Johnny, bless him. There were going to have to be more Anton plus Johnny Sun concerts, a lot more. The galaxy's top two male vocalists. Joran's grin widened.

Tossing the towel on a chair, Joran gave the communications center a dirty look. It felt distinctly wrong to be checking his messages the morning after a concert. He never did it when he introduced new material. A galaxy tour was different, that was routine. He might check messages then if there was nothing better going on like a pickup Octagla game, a holodrama he'd been meaning to watch, a book he'd meant to look at, or a new restaurant to check out. He almost always found something better, but the option of checking messages existed.

But after a premier like last night Joran carefully avoided all messages for three or four days. It gave everyone, including himself, time to calm down. After those three or four days, depending on his mood he'd either delete the lot without so much as looking at or listening to one, or he might amuse himself selecting a couple at random. Usually though he got rid of the lot. He had never decided which was worse – an unwanted criticism or being gushed on.

This time he was due for both. He didn't have the slightest idea how the galaxy would take M's song, either of the times he'd sung it. The first time, for Mitra, well he'd never put his naked soul into a song like that before. The second time when he and Johnny sang it for Maillie they'd both ended up crying in public. That had been good for them, cathartic. They had both loved her, lost her when she died, and she had become a barrier between them. But what the public would think, who knew.

For sure he'd get a rough ride for the striptease Johnny put him up to in family prime time. Joran grinned again. His bet was that his fans were never going to allow him to ever perform fully dressed again. And the live recording of Twilight he and Johnny did with Bojo was unbelievable. Bojo, recording under his stage name Mrail, was headed for superstardom. It had felt so good to see Bojo where he should be, center stage, blond, strong, confident, not hiding in the back like he had since his face was disfigured. Amazing what love was doing for that man. Yes, it had been quite a night.

What felt right was to just go with the glow and worry about reality in a few days. That wasn't possible though. For the first time in all the years since they'd been in university and roomed together, neither Dreen nor Juttar had been there to see his new material, and he really wanted to know what they thought. Also, given the reason why they couldn't come, Joran felt he had to be accessible. Dreen was still stuck on that mining planet Drezvir sorting out the cause of the fatal reactor accident, and it was looking more and more like the accident would get pinned on him. Either him or Mitra. That meant Juttar and his law firm were working flat out on Dreen and Mitra's legal defense. A death penalty was not something to take casually especially when Dreen and Mitra were both Outsiders to the Farrese. Juttar had apologized for skipping the concert, but said firmly that going to Gingezel was too long a trip.

Still, this change in a lifelong pattern bothered Joran and being completely sober, clean, and exhausted was no help. Without so much as turning the communications unit on, he walked over to the cater unit. About to go for comfort food, he remembered the big breakfast Sinda had fed him and settled for a glass of iced herbal tea. How the hell had he ended up in bed with her? Sure, they'd both been high on the show and actually getting some chemistry going on stage for once, but she was Johnny's woman. Galaxy, why had he done that? First he steals Maillie from Johnny and marries her, then he sleeps with Sinda. At least she'd cleared out while he showered and gone to look for Johnny.

Glass in hand, Joran went to stare out at the city. It was hot and hazy, late summer at its best. The streets would be unbearable now with the sun overhead, but later when the worst of the sun was off he'd take a long walk in the lingering heat and mellow out. Then he would think about whether or not he'd just stay here for a couple days, or if he'd slip back to Crescent Bay.

Time to quit stalling. Before checking out messages from his friends, he'd better take a quick peek to see just how upset Johnny's label was with him for publicly stealing Johnny to AntonCorp. It was their own fault. If that asshole hadn't refused to have the live recording they did of Twilight go out on the AntonCorp label, they'd still have the top pop singer in the galaxy. They should know by now to not make Johnny mad.

This label was definitely not in the select group that got through his intensive message screening. Joran searched for their identifiers in the junk section. A couple years ago he'd considered making them automatic trash and delete, then chickened out. There were only eight messages so far, a couple from last night, six today, so they weren't all that upset. They obviously figured Johnny would come to his senses. Joran left the messages unopened. He'd focus when they started coming from the lawyers, not the flunkies, and he'd start answering when they started coming from the Studio Head. He hit the delete button for the lot and went to check the priority messages in his filtered mail.

The first item on the list brought a smile to Joran's face. Darwin had gone to the trouble of sending a message. That should be really interesting. He'd never had an alien review him before. Not that he would understand the review. The Pikkant had been discovered on his land on Gingezel early on, and while they seemed to more or less understand him, he still couldn't make out a thing they were saying.

He really hoped the little rodent stayed awake long enough to get back to Gingezel from Drezvir in a non-hibernating state. It had been way too long since they'd rubbed noses. Seeing Darwin awake wasn't likely though. Trevarr, official ambassador to the Pikkant and a great guy, said some of the colony was napping off. It was interesting that they didn't wait until winter to hibernate. They seemed to harvest mid to late summer, stuff themselves silly, and nap off for the stormy autumn season. Then they woke up later for winter sports. Joran's smile broadened at Trevarr's description of their belly sledding. Well, he wasn't going to miss their winter sports for another year. He'd stayed off Gingezel too long and missed too much.

Next was Juttar's message, labeled 'Superb', then one he hadn't expected from Chett Linderson titled 'Enjoy yourself?'. Joran grinned. That obviously referred to the strip routine. Hell, he hadn't even thought of Chett in connection with the concert. He should have at least offered Chett tickets and faster transport than Nemizcan Computing's Exec, Dreen's space yacht. Chett would have declined since he was tied down on Tranus having replaced Dreen as head of Nemizcan Computing until the Drezvir mess was over. But he should have offered. Then there was Dreen's, titled 'Way to go!!!', then Johnny's titled 'Hornets' nest!'. Joran looked at the timestamp. Five minutes ago. The messages from Johnny's studio would probably start being from lawyers soon then. Good. The sooner Johnny extricated himself from that crowd, the sooner he and Bojo and Johnny could start seriously planning an album.

The remaining item was simply alphabet soup with a few numbers thrown in. It looked like it was from a random character generator, which it was. Even the cheapest spam filter should filter that out, and his weren't cheap. That meant it was from the handful of identifiers he gave high enough priority to that anything in any format from them would get through. Only one person on that list would send alphabet soup. Ghen Kulgalu. Joran scowled. What the hell did he want?

Joran supposed Ghen might just be checking to see if he'd stayed clean after the concert. There had been a major fight with Bojo about Ghen and the concert. Joran had wanted to invite him, and Bojo had said no way because of the drug side. Joran had said if anything would keep him off, not on, drugs it would be Ghen's threats of what he would personally do if Joran messed up again. Bojo had said fine, but no one else would see it that way, since as far as the galaxy was concerned, Kulgalu was the drug lord and they both knew damned well that was true, no matter how many legitimate pharmaceutical companies he hid behind. Bojo had flatly refused to deal with that rumor mill. Since it was all true, there was no counter argument.

Joran knew Bojo had also made Ghen promise to not contact him before the concert, and had put a few overrides on his communications just in case Ghen broke his word. As a result Bojo thought he was receiving everything from Ghen. He and his Vice President, Bojo, were going to have a little talk about that kind of stunt one of these days. He had his head back together, and he didn't need that level of handling now. Joran was grateful to Bojo for holding AntonCorp together for those bad years, but they were over. At least, Joran amended realistically, he hoped they were over. Anyways, it hadn't been worth a fight before the concert, especially over a useless move. Bojo didn't know about all of Ghen's little tricks, including a few identifiers Bojo would have no idea belonged to Ghen.

Not many people knew. These contact routes existed because there could be times when it might be necessary for Ghen to reach someone high up on Gingezel about a lapse by Gingezel Security without the security staff that had lapsed knowing. Joran acknowledged that Ghen and Ralin, the Gingezel Head of Security, had a rather iffy relationship. So Joran had made himself the designated contact. That was best. After all, it had been his idea to make Ghen a security consultant to the Gingezel consortium. How better to keep their precious planet crime and drug free? Ghen knew every trick in the book and had no doubt invented a book's worth on his own. Besides, it was better to have Ghen on their side. Otherwise owning and running a pleasure planet would be a nightmare.

It was unlikely this one had anything to do with Gingezel though. He suspected Ghen had just tried normal messaging routes to congratulate him, bounced, sworn at Bojo for not reconnecting him, and used this identifier. After all, it was after the concert Joran told himself. All the same, he'd better read the message. It might be more than congratulations. Ghen had a real bad habit of going off on his own and doing creative things.

Joran called up the message.

"Nice ass. Call to discuss the D issue."

Joran smiled at the first part. It appeared he was going to hear about the bare ass stunt from everyone. But what the hell was 'the D issue'? Over the years he'd seen Ghen work through an incredible number of oblique references to drugs, but usually you could work it out if you tried. D ... D issue. Nothing on the streets had a name starting with D right now that he knew of. And Ghen wouldn't refer to drugs as drugs. The D issue. He thought about it from the drug angle for a bit longer and got nowhere, unless Ghen thought he was stoned on stage despite his public denial.

What else was D? Dirt? It was always possible Ghen had heard some useful dirt that would make breaking Johnny's contract easier. Ghen always knew the worst about everyone. It would cost of course. It always did. Well, he'd better find out. Rattled, Joran placed the call to Ghen's usual identifier from habit. He was reasonably sure of getting through. He was on Ghen's A Priority list for calls.

Then Joran had a thought that almost made him break the call. The D issue. Something had gone wrong with the Dellmaice Power Systems takeover! Ghen was going to back Ari Dellmaice. The thought was horrifying. Joran figured Chett and Dreen and Bojo were crazy to be trying a takeover right now. He could understand that Dreen and Chett were furious with Ari for not telling them about the Drezvir reactor accident immediately since they were among the top five contenders to have caused it, and with the reverse jurisprudence in the Farr Sector the delay really cost. And now that he knew Chett, he realized Chett was the get even type. But right now they should be all be focussing on collaborating to get out of the mess, not scrapping, to say nothing of generating one hell of a lot of negative publicity. But they were doing it, and success counted on Bojo having convinced Ghen, one of the largest shareholders in Dellmaice Power Systems, to sit it out.

He was too slow to disconnect. Ghen was already there, sitting in his favorite high backed chair, sallow skinned, long messy hair down on his shoulders, peering at him. Ghen always looked like he was peering at you. It was the deep set dark eyes, the beak of a nose, and what Joran suspected was a deliberate trick of holding his head just so. It was unnerving anyways.

"You clean?" Ghen asked bluntly.

"Yes I'm clean. I just scared of the shit out of myself."

"Oh?"

"Speculating on what the hell you might mean by the D issue."

Ghen was immediately curious. "What did you think?"

"No way Ghen. I'm not giving you ideas. So what am I calling about?"

"First, is this call likely to be monitored since it's from you to one of my known identifiers?" Why had Joran chosen a publicly known identifier to call, not one of his others like the one he'd sent the message on? Dumb move.

"I have no idea. I would assume Ralin respects the liberties of law-abiding citizens and doesn't even look at their outgoing calls. I could be wrong though. There may be a few identifiers like yours that are just plain bad news and he screens them one hundred percent. Why don't you just assume it's monitored."

"Then I'll be oblique."

"Please don't!" Joran was totally sincere. "I'd never follow you and I'll just get something wrong. Besides," he added realistically, "if you're up to trouble I'll just go squeal when you disconnect anyways."

Ghen took that in stride. "It's your business that will get recorded, not mine. But first, since you got through the post concert madness does that mean you'll stay clean this time?"

"I hope so."

"Good. You know if you keep it up sooner or later you'll permanently scramble that creative brain of yours, then what will you do?" He continued, "And prescription?"

"I said I'm clean, Ghen! Get off my back!"

"Yeah. Well, the way you were mixing the various prescriptions you took, you were running quite a risk there too. So take the warning."

Joran had no idea how Ghen knew. He was quite sure though that he didn't want to know how Ghen knew. Anyways it was time to change topics.

"This 'D issue'. It couldn't be Johnny Sun's contract?"

"Is he moving over to AntonCorp then?" This was news to Ghen, but it pleased him.

Joran nodded. They'd decided that about 3:00 a.m. Or maybe it had been closer to 4:00 a.m.

"That's good. You need to diversify." Ghen thought a minute, then shook his head. "Offhand I don't know anything useful. Is it going to get nasty?"

"It could." Joran was guarded. "These things do sometimes."

"Do you want me to snoop around? As a favor."

"Not if you haven't already." Joran gave a wry smile. "Your favors are too damned expensive sometimes, Ghen."

Ghen was hurt. "Joran, this is between friends."

"It always is, but you always seem to think of something your friends can do to say thanks."

Since he couldn't argue with the truth, Ghen shifted ground. "What I wanted to talk about was Drezvir." Ghen thought of the report he'd read a few hours ago, but he wasn't sure how Joran fit in the picture and he needed to know. Then he needed to think some more.

"Drezvir?" That was totally unexpected. Joran stared blankly. "What's Drezvir to you?"

"I like Dreen Pendi," Ghen said simply.

*****

Chapter 2

Shit! How the hell had Ghen even met Dreen? Absolutely the last thing Dreen needed right now was Ghen deciding he was Dreen's friend. If the Farr Sector Judiciary got wind of that kind of connection Dreen was finished. The Judiciary there used reverse jurisprudence where you had to prove innocence. The reactor accident had resulted in two fatalities when power went in the mines, and left the rest of the mine crew seriously injured and trapped under a wall of rock until emergency power was restored. If that wasn't bad enough, the mining colony had been left with only emergency power in a red blizzard, and still was without full power. This case was definitely going to court.

Analysis was rapidly ruling out any equipment failure causes for the overpower. So it was looking like a design fault, either in Dreen's computer system handling the operator interface for the reactor trips or in Mitra's design of the hybrid reactor itself. So far preliminary charges had been placed against Mitra. But if Dreen ended up in court too, it would be very prejudicial to be friends with a drug lord. He was in a bad enough position with his previous prison record.

Galaxy, what a mess. It had been only weeks since Dreen and Mitra were holidaying with him on Gingezel, with nothing on their minds but a holiday romance. Mitra had looked so happy then, a tiny little thing, all energy and huge blue eyes in a pale face framed by brunette hair. Now there was nothing to her and she looked worried sick like she hadn't slept since the accident. She probably hadn't. Dreen said she knew the entire mine crew who were injured because they were the ones that worked for her installing the geothermal base units down in the mines. And Blayne, one of the miners who died, had been married to her best friend on Drezvir. That kind of personal guilt would mess anyone up.

Dreen wasn't looking any better than Mitra. First there had been the panic when Mitra just took off without telling anyone where she was going, and they had been searching the galaxy for her. Then there had been that damned hacker who was proving that the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb beta wasn't secure at all. And of course because bad things come in runs, Dreen's Vice President of Marketing had needed emergency surgery. That run had not exactly left Dreen high on cope when Chett got back from Drezvir with good news, bad news. The good news had been that they now knew where Mitra was. The bad news had been the accident. Joran thought about their conversation before the concert. With his prematurely graying hair and rugged face, the stress and exhaustion had Dreen looking closer to sixty than nearing forty.

"How do you know Dreen?" Joran asked accusingly.

"We were all on Gingezel together," Ghen reminded him.

"Yes, and I made damn sure the two of you never met. What did you do? Walk up in the hotel and introduce yourself?"

"Yes."

Joran sighed. There was absolutely no sense getting mad at Ghen. He'd just shed it. "I could ask why."

"I don't honestly know." Ghen shrugged. "I didn't know the guy was your friend Dreen. I just liked the looks of him and the way he treated the hotel staff. So when I heard him talking to Tomao about a soccer game I went over and joined in.

"Then I said, 'I don't believe we've met'. And he said he was Dreen Pendi from Nemizcan Computing. And I said I had always admired him. I mean, I couldn't run my business without his software."

"Well, that should have really had him thrilled." Joran was beginning to see why Dreen had never mentioned the meeting. "Or didn't you tell him who you were?"

"Of course I told him." Ghen's chin came up dangerously. "Do you think I'm ashamed of my name and who I am?"

"Some people would consider that option. Anyways, that makes Dreen your buddy?"

"Of course not. I thought you wanted the full story. When he knew who I was, he gave me shit on your account. As if I'm personally responsible for your stupidity." Those years had been hell, after Maillie died. Joran had been out to destroy himself. Ghen's voice totally changed tone. "You have a good friend there, Joran. I hope you appreciate that."

"I do."

"Good. Anyways, once he'd had his say, he was really decent. We'd run into each other in the hotel or at a restaurant and talk."

"What in the galaxy about?"

"Computers and soccer. Boy, does that man know his soccer. And I wanted help on a really good computer system for my kid Ranga for his birthday. He's getting serious about programming, not just user stuff."

Joran felt sorry for Dreen. He was polite enough he would be socially incapable of handling Ghen's unwanted overtures. All that worked with the man was to walk away, preferably firmly shutting a door in his face in the process.

Joran sighed. "I see. So where do you and Drezvir fit?"

"First. This Mitra you were singing to. Is she the engineer from Dellmaice Power Systems who designed and built the reactor, and is charged with manslaughter through criminal negligence in the Drezvir mess?"

Joran nodded.

Ghen's dark eyes were sad and moist. His dearest friend certainly had bad luck with his women. "I'm truly sorry for you, my friend. I know you're just getting over Maillie's death, and now that you finally have a new woman, she's in serious trouble. You don't need it."

"You've got it wrong, Ghen. She's Dreen's woman, not mine."

Ghen stared. "Joran. I saw you. I heard you sing."

Ghen had really wanted to attend the concert, but when he'd tried to buy tickets, he'd been put through to Bojo who had bluntly said they couldn't risk the publicity downside, and don't try to get someone else to buy them or use a scalper. If he so much as tried to visit Gingezel for three or four days on either side of the concert, he would be denied a visa. If he ignored that fine point, any spaceship he was on would not be allowed to land. Bojo was a good man, and Ghen had understood. Still, it had really hurt and he'd had to settle for watching it at home on Tamara.

"I didn't say I wasn't in love with her." There was no sense lying to Ghen. He could smell them even over the hyperweb. "I said she was Dreen's woman."

Damn. Joran was screwed up again. That changed everything. Plan B time.

Ghen shook his head. "Joran. You go out of your way to give yourself grief, but it's your life." He shifted gears smoothly. "What I called you about was the fact the press is implying prosecution could start at any time. I'm concerned that Dreen's corporate lawyers may not have, shall we say, the appropriate expertise? I don't know how familiar you are with how the Judiciary is setup in the Farr Sector, but they are real pain in the ass with that need to prove innocence approach."

Ghen shuddered at the thought. "Personally I would keep my business operations out of there if I could. But there are three prescription pharmaceuticals that are only available from firms of mine. It would be inhumane to not have them available in the Farr Sector."

Joran refrained from commenting that quite a lot of the nonprescription stuff Ghen sold was inhumane, so why was he worried. He'd given it an honest try once, trying to talk about these two sides of Ghen's personality with the man; the drug lord and the prescription pharmaceuticals magnate. It had been the most confusing couple hours in his life, and the memory still disturbed him.

Ghen was continuing quite sincerely, "That means some of my lawyers have to be specialists in the Farr sector. So while Dreen should have kept clear of the place, that's water under the bridge. He's there, and I assume we both want him out. So I was going to arrange for my lawyers to be available for consultation." He added with some pride, "They're the best."

Now, how the hell do I handle this? Joran asked himself. He should have waited to call Ghen. His nervous system wasn't up to this yet. He was still too tired from the concert. He truly believed Ghen's heart was in the right place on this one, but what a potential for disaster! And how did Ghen always put you in the position where you either had to end up telling him things that were absolutely none of his business or bluntly tell him to fuck off. Joran suspected the man spent hours in advance plotting it out.

Sighing, Joran said, "It's a kind offer Ghen, but I've already retained Juttar Kommur."

"Have you?" Ghen's report hadn't said that, but Kommur's firm were notoriously closed-mouthed about their business. "He's a good man." Ghen was approving. "You were at university together, weren't you?"

Joran nodded. And how did Ghen know that? Well, he may as well tell him the rest of that story. "He shared an apartment with Dreen and me."

"That's all to the good, but this may not be a one-man job, even if the Nemizcan corporate law staff is good."

You're pushing, Ghen, Joran thought. I just said thanks but no thanks. "I didn't mean just Juttar. I meant I retained the firm."

Ghen's eyes widened slightly. They were one of the most expensive firms in the galaxy.

"Who's paying?"

"None of your damned business!"

"You'd sooner I guessed?"

Joran threw up his hands. "Except for the band's cut and expenses that was a benefit concert."

"And the Dreen is accepting this?" There were limits to how much charity a man could take. Ghen pushed his mane back off his face.

"He thinks it's all for Mitra." Damn that Kulgalu. One step lead to the next and the next. He should break contact.

Ghen nodded, and filed that for future reference. "That's decent of you, Joran, and I won't tell Dreen the difference. I still think you need help though."

There was nothing for it. "Ghen. If the Farr Sector government knew we'd talked to the firm you use, it would prejudice them forever. I'm sorry, but no." He waited for the blow up, but Ghen was beaming.

"I was really worried you'd be too exhausted to think. What I was proposing was that we call your lawyers now that I know who they are, to get an opinion on a case my guys are handling for me. If over coffee a little general shoptalk occurs, who's to question it?"

"Could we cross that bridge only if we have to?"

"I don't like the feel of that. These legal boys are slow at best. How about I set things in motion? If Kommur doesn't need help, he says sorry, I'm booked. If later he does, he calls back and says some free time came up."

Joran was now sincerely worried about recorded calls. After a certain point, Ralin would feel obliged to pass things on to the Farr Sector Judiciary, and he suspected they'd crossed that point a couple sentences ago. Maybe he should have tried to stumble through vague hints. Galaxy knew what he'd have got wrong then!

"You're right, Ghen. This shouldn't have been a possibly recorded call, but since it could well be, let me go on record saying it is a singularly bad idea and I'm having no part of it."

Actually it was a very good idea. He just hoped Ghen was following him. Joran shrugged his defeat. "But I assume you'll suit yourself. You always do."

Joran was doing better than he expected. Ghen shook his head gravely. "This is too important. You're closer to the action and I'll listen to you. I still do need a consultation, and I'll try Kommur first. But I'm warned they probably aren't free. So I'll expect I'll have to find alternatives."

Joran nodded. "Is that it then? I have a long list of messages to work through." After a long, long rest. He should have followed his first instinct and never looked at a single message. But then he would have never known Darwin wrote. Maybe he'd look at that one.

"Just one more thing."

"Yes?" It was guarded.

"Why the raid on Dellmaice Power Systems right now? I mean, there must be money in it or Hoffner wouldn't be fronting for you and Dreen." That's what Hoffner and Associates were, professional corporate raiders. "But I would have thought the timing was sub optimal – diluting Ari's concentration and his legal resources. I've done like Bojo asked, and kept on the sidelines, but I really would like to know."

Ghen hoped Joran would answer him, not tell him to shove off like Bojo would. He knew that the actual takeover attempt was being carried out by Hoffner, Bojo, and Chett Linderson. Joran and Dreen were staying in the background, funding it. He'd gathered from Bojo there was bad blood though, and he wanted Joran to personally spell it out. The answer might affect Plan B.

Bojo had asked Ghen to sit it out, had he? That was another little talk they would have to have. That was the kind of favor that would cost like hell. Also, Joran still had mixed feelings about the raid, and he wasn't sure Ghen wasn't right. Well, now was not the time to show anything but a united front.

Joran gave the answer he thought Ghen would understand. "The only legal defense, or any other effort Dellmaice is interested in is to save himself. If that is at Dreen's or Mitra's expense, tough. We told him to rethink or he was finished." He shrugged. "He just didn't jump high and fast enough."

Ghen looked at Joran with increased respect and nodded as he tried to look impassive. "I see. Well, you're a busy man and I won't keep you." He broke connection.

Joran was shaking his head, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. He'd have to try faking the tough line with Ghen another time. It seemed to have a beneficial effect. He'd started to think he was stuck playing question and answer forever.

***

Ghen sat staring into space. Pity Joran was messed up with Dreen's woman, since he'd obviously recovered and then some. That hard edge hadn't been there before, but sometimes it took a tragedy for a man to mature. Yes, Ghen would have preferred to deal with Joran, but if there was a woman involved you could never really trust people, especially Joran. Look at poor Johnny Sun. Time for Plan B.

*****

Chapter 3

It was time for Plan B. There was only one minor problem. What was Plan B? Ghen sat back in his chair, staring at the spot where the ceiling met the wall, tapping his lower lip with the stylus. Then he remembered that his wife had said that was becoming a bad habit, so he stopped. He settled instead for chewing on his full pink lower lip. That was a bad habit too, and she gently chided him for it as well, but Ghen wasn't at all aware that he was doing it. He was too busy worrying about his two friends. It was a cruel galaxy when the best possible outcome was that one of them would end up with a broken heart. Still, a single broken heart, Joran's or Dreen's, was a lot better than the inside of a Farr Sector prison, or worse still, a death sentence for criminal negligence.

So focus on Plan B. Ghen's gaze shifted to the hologram of his garden in full spring bloom. What would it be like to allow yourself the luxury of loving? He had been in love once, but it was so long ago he'd forgotten the textures of it. They had met in a class at university. She was pre-med, he was taking pharmacy. Two young idealists, out to change the galaxy, or their own destinies at least. He would turn his back on his family. She would ignore the shocked outrage of hers. They would work together, make a life together, do great things.

It was amazing, given what they were both studying, that they slipped up. But the case of a virus she just couldn't shake turned out to be Ranga. Her family had disowned her. Ghen had been sure that this was an act of the fates, the thing he needed to make his break from the illegal drug trade. Then his old man had finally gone to prison on drug charges and Ghen had discovered to his shock that when it came right down to it he loved the old tyrant. He had to hold things together until the old man got out. Then he'd make his break. She hadn't seen it that way. She'd seen it as choosing a life of crime over her.

So Ghen had been left with a university degree in pharmaceuticals, a divorce, a two-year-old son to raise, and a drug empire to control. He got through the first couple years hanging on to the idea it would all still work out. Besides, he'd been too busy getting a street M.B.A. the very, very hard way to think much beyond surviving each day. After the first couple years he had realized that no, it would not ever work out. So he had put that street M.B.A. to use building a legitimate pharmaceutical empire to give himself a reason to be able to look in the mirror in the morning. That had kept him busier still, and the years had passed until the day his old man walked out of the prison doors. By then he was in so deep that the only way out was prison. And that had been that. The Old Man hadn't even thanked him. He'd been furious at Ghen's diversification into legitimate pharmaceuticals.

Still, life wasn't so bad. But love? He adored Varda, his new wife, but he didn't love her. She had been selected by his father, the widow of an enforcer who had been killed on the job. He supposed it was the old man's idea of company benefits. Still, she made his life pleasant, very pleasant, and it sure beat always watching his mouth around mistresses.

Enough! Plan B. He had to assume that there was no way to communicate with Dreen. His messages would be intercepted, and SPYWORKS stated right up front that they would decrypt messages if law-enforcement agencies showed up with an intercepted message and the right court order. The Farr Sector Judiciary would not hesitate to provide the court order. So Dreen could not be part of Plan B. That was why whenever possible he used reliable couriers for any communications that could be used against him by the law. But there was no possible reason for a courier to go to a remote mining colony at the end of the galaxy, so that idea didn't wash either.

Unfortunately, neither did using Bojo. If Joran was messed up over a woman again, Bojo had a problem on his hands. Competent though he was, there were limits to the theory of give a job to a busy man if you want it done. Between keeping Joran under control, launching his own solo career – that had been a surprise, but a pleasant one – and that nice little number he was doing on Dellmaice Power Systems, he was overbooked.

Ghen nodded with deep approval as he thought of that little bit of information he had gleaned from Joran. He was a firm believer in don't get mad, get even. Dreen and Joran were handling the insult from Ari the way he would and he had to admit Joran went up a notch in his estimation. He hadn't thought the man had the stomach for dirty work.

So, who were the peripherals? There was always Ari Dellmaice of course. He was quite sure Ari would put the information he'd found to good use. Ari was as hardheaded as they came, and smart. The question though was, to what good use? Ari couldn't be stupid enough to not know Dreen was behind his takeover problems. Was there some way Ari could use the information to save his own ass while making damn sure Dreen took one very hard fall? Ghen simply didn't know enough about the energy/high tech game to be sure. So, cancel Ari.

Then there was the wild card, Chett Linderson. Ghen had never heard of him until he took over Nemizcan when Dreen left for Drezvir, and he hadn't liked what the first round of inquiries had turned up. Linderson was spaceflot, a womanizer, a man who knew how to have a good time on any planet you cared to name. A blond pretty boy in an expensive suit. Ghen had wondered what Dreen was thinking about, turning Nemizcan over to a man like that. On the basis of that first report, even a screwed up Joran looked good.

Then the next round of research had come in. Chett had started at the very bottom of the ladder as a quality assurance technician working on instrumentation assemblies at Tranus Dynamics. Ghen admitted that the background in QA probably biased him in Chett's favor. He also liked how Chett had worked his way up through Tranus Dynamics into management of a small subsidiary, then moved to be Vice President of Field Operations at Nemizcan where his job was to keep their far-flung empire in order.

Ghen had given a lot of thought to the kind of problems Dreen must have there, to keep his reputation for quality up and keep a damper on employee creativeness. It sounded like Chett Linderson was the damper. Word was he played hard and fast, and no one crossed him twice. Now that he was sitting in Dreen's chair, Chett was taking a personal interest in doing Ari in. Ghen liked to see that kind of loyalty in an employee. He'd heard too that this kind of raid wasn't Linderson's first. Apparently he did one or two a year with Hoffner as a sort of hobby.

In fact, the more he heard about the man, the more he liked what he heard. When this had all blown over, he might make a point of meeting Chett. If he liked him in person, it would be worth seeing if he was totally satisfied with his career opportunities at Nemizcan.

But was Chett the man to approach now? Chett had the space smarts where he could just possibly put the pieces together, even if the message was very discreet and Ghen didn't identify himself. Ghen permitted himself a smile. Chett had traced companies he had created to hold interests in Dellmaice Power System that he had thought were untraceable. Now he was now methodically finding and turfing his street-drug related accounts at Nemizcan. The man was competent, very competent, and apparently never slept.

Ghen nodded to himself. Yes, he would definitely approach Chett when this was over, but not now, because what Chett knew Dreen would eventually know. When it came right down to it, Ghen wasn't sure Dreen would appreciate being in his debt. Also, with a major debt like this there was a distinct advantage of it not being known until you called it in. That way, you had the choice on how it was discharged.

The parents on each side he rejected. Mrs. Pendi, even though she bred exquisite irises and he had several of hers in his garden, was a housewife. She would not know how to act on the information, and would either ignore it or pass it on to Dreen. That would be the same problem as his contacting Dreen with the minor variation of information coming from an unknown suspicious source.The Professors Kael were academics. Chelan Kael was a historian. Roween Kael was a brilliant biophysicist to be sure, and her work was priceless when you could retain her. But she was not a businesswoman.

That left Niki Kael, and Niki interested him. First, he was a money man. That would give him the right mind set to understand the message Ghen intended to transmit. By all accounts he was also intelligent and successful. He made a lot of money for a lot of people, and only allowed a reasonable amount to be seen to stick to him. His lifestyle was very comfortable but not excessive. That showed good judgment, restraint, and familiarity with the ways money could hide itself. That would help him understand the message.

Then too, the report had described a very interesting episode early in his career. Apparently Niki had come up with some brilliant new way to influence the markets, brilliant enough that the regulators had given up trying to figure out how it worked, and settled for warning him off with a 'whatever the hell you did, don't do it again.' Niki had neither sold his knowledge nor let himself get caught again using it. That showed real creativity and once again restraint. It also made Ghen suspect Niki was not the sort of man who would ask too hard where a gift came from. Yes, he should do quite well.

Ghen nodded to himself, then shifted to action. He would arrange to send Niki that information in the evening his time, then he would take a long, long walk and try to figure out just what Joran was afraid he was up to.

*****

Chapter 4

The door chime and the sound of the door to Joran's suite opening were almost simultaneous. Bojo. Joran always made sure Bojo had a key strip for his suite and counted on him to wake him on those rare and usually inappropriate times he fell into a deep sleep. That had turned into a habit of just walking in.

"Bojo! Wasn't that some night!" Joran gave his friend a bear hug before he was even into the suite. "Brys should have stayed to the end. Have you talked to her?"

Joran released Bojo to take a good look at him as he walked in. He seemed to have survived the night relatively well. Fatigue showed, mainly through his bad eye tracking to the side a bit more than usual and in a slight droop to that side of his face that even the expertly applied makeup and long blond hair couldn't mask. But the sense of ease and confidence he had shown on stage were still there. Yes, Bojo was headed for superstardom and he would handle it. Then he grinned. Maybe there was one more sign of fatigue, or maybe the littlest bit of nerves. Bojo was back in his favorite ratty old pants and the shirt he had worn the first time he took Brys out. Comfort clothes. What would the paparazzi make of that?

Bojo's smile was self-conscious. "There was a message waiting for me when I got back to my room from the party." He knew Brys was too timid to have even thought of calling him there. "So I called her, and she was at work. It's a good thing she went back. The last time I talked to her it looked like the three of them, Gali, Vennbir, and Brys were onto something. They think they have found a way for the control system computer Dreen and his staff designed for the Drezvir reactor to be hacked."

Bojo had almost risked insulting Brys by asking to talk to Gali, Dreen's collaborator in setting up Nemizcan Computing and a legend as a coder, to see how likely they were to be right. But he had decided time would tell. They needed to be chasing their idea, not explaining it - assuming Gali would explain something like that to an outsider like him.

"Hacked?" Joran stared in shocked disbelief. "But that would mean it wasn't an accident."

"Yes," Bojo said. The possibility disturbed him less than he knew it would Joran. On his home planet, police state Ennup 10, convenient accidents were all too common.

"Not an accident..." Joran frowned.

"Don't bother chasing that right now. Could be hacked and was hacked are not the same thing."

"True ... But it raises a possibility Juttar should be able to use."

"Agreed."

Bojo doubted Juttar could do much without concrete proof. But there was no way he was bringing Joran down the day after a concert like last night. He studied Joran in turn. It looked like he had stayed clean and was not manic. That was a relief. He looked tired though. Well, he should be. That had been the strongest performance of his career, and the concert had run more than a half hour overtime.

Joran's relief was palpable. "Your Brys is brilliant!"

"In this case I'm told the credit goes to Vennbir, but I won't argue." Bojo opened the fridge and took out fruit juice. "You too?"

Joran shook his head. "So how does it feel to be engaged?"

That would matter more to Bojo than launching his solo career to standing ovations. It had been magic, a fairytale night. Joran accepted that the young goddess wearing quite possibly the most stunning little black dress Neselli had ever created, the Anton blue necklace he had given her, the amazing anklet from Bojo, and with her blonde hair down to her waist was the sweat shirt wearing ponytailed hacker he was used to. But which one would he meet the next time he saw her? Did Bojo have the same question in his mind?

Bojo slumped into a chair and took a drink, taking time to choose his words. At last he said, "Actually, we are more than engaged. By accepting the anklet with you as a witness Brys essentially married me. All that is needed is that we register the union on Ennup 10. That doesn't require our returning there or any further formalities. The registration is just bookkeeping and can be done on the hyperweb. Accepting the anklet formally like that was the union."

If they had been on Ennup 10 and she had been a woman of his class, it would have occurred at a huge wedding on his family estate, not in a backstage dressing room.

"And custom has it that we both get ankle tattoos." He took a wary look at Joran. "It was too complicated to explain so I said engaged."

If Bojo knew Joran, Joran knew him. "So what's wrong?" he asked quietly. Bojo was too much in love to be regretting what might have been a spur of the moment thing. No. It could not have been spur of the moment. It had taken some jeweler a lot of effort to make that anklet.

Bojo sighed. "It's that lowest class upbringing Brys has. You know how she gets social things wrong."

Joran nodded and suppressed a shudder at the memory of the incident he was referring to.

"Well this time she didn't think we could legally marry. That's what the scrap you walked in on was about. I told her to trust me, but..." Bojo trailed off.

"But?"

"I'd like to be there when she wakes up to reassure her in person. I mean, I can accept just living together. All that matters is that we love each other. But I would prefer to be married. Being very cold and business like about it, it's the only way to protect Brys. As it is, even if we stayed together long enough by galactic standards for her to be my spouse, if anything happened to me my family could and probably would cut her completely out of my estate."

He sighed. "You see, legally on Ennup 10 someone of her class has no claim on mine. I could live with her, have children by her, and walk out and she couldn't even claim child support. That is an incredibly abusive law, but it exists and I wanted to protect her from that. I know she has a good well-paying job with Dreen, but, well we both know almost all of that goes back home to her family and she keeps herself at the poverty level. But she thinks that law means we can't marry, which simply is not true."

Poor Brys. She had starved herself almost to fainting trying to save money to buy new shoes. That would not happen again while he was around. Bojo smiled. "I discovered I like taking care of her and giving her the extras in life. Didn't she look sensational?" She had been the most beautiful woman there.

"Stunning," Joran agreed. "So when is your flight booked for?"

"It isn't. I wanted to talk to you first. If I take off, that means you have to stay here and sort things out with Johnny and his label. Is that a problem?"

"Because Sinda spent the night here?" Joran gave an elaborate shrug. "It was a big problem for me when I woke up, but we agreed it was just a one time thing. Something to do with how we were playing off each other onstage. When she left she was off to find Johnny." Joran shook his head. "Would you believe she is still jealous of Maillie?"

"Yes," Bojo said dryly. "I've never figured out her and Johnny except that they will probably set a galactic record for divorces and remarriages. So it's fine if I leave?"

"It's fine. Call the spaceport from here. I'm sorry the Allegro isn't back from the Farr Sector yet."

"A jet will do." Bojo smiled his thanks.

***

The call tone woke Brys, and muttering under her breath she touched the contact. Between the concert and working all night she needed to sleep.

"What is it?" Brys it didn't bother to look at the identifier, and she didn't turn the visuals on.

"Can I come up, Brys?" Bojo asked tentatively. Even though he had a key to her room, after scaring her once letting himself in he always called first.

"Bojo? You're here?" Brys asked incredulously as she turned the visual on to be sure.

"Of course I'm here." His angel looked wonderful sleepy like that with her hair all over the place. "Don't get up. Stay sleepy."

Bojo was here! Brys let exhaustion win and didn't fight the need to sleep. She was only half aware of him coming in, small domestic sounds, and his sliding into bed beside her.

***

"You're finally awake." Bojo touched her cheek.

"I wouldn't swear to that." Brys yawned. "Have you been waiting long for me to wake up?"

"About ten minutes. I was tired too. That was some night!" His touch strayed to her collarbone.

"Did you really do a recording?"

"Mmhm." That was still unreal, part of a dream. And it wasn't what mattered. "And are you still happy to be my wife?"

Brys studied his face. "It really is legal? You can marry me?"

"Yes. I've thought about it," Bojo said. "We could file from here, but I'll have my lawyer on Ennup 10 do it. That way you can ask him any questions you have."

Brys nodded. That was sensible and Bojo was so sensible.

"We'll call him, maybe a little later?" Bojo asked as his touch strayed to her breast.

"Later," Brys agreed.

*****

Chapter 5

The drive home from Dellmaice Power Systems was punctuated by cloud to cloud lightning and fitful bursts of rain. Usually Ari enjoyed the drive as he curved along the river glimpsing the city core on the other bank. Tonight it was simply too long, and he had to fight to keep his concentration. He kept hearing the conversation he'd had with the company's main lawyer, Haran Barloth. He kept remembering the polite but firm call from the pension fund that was the largest investor in Dellmaice Power Systems. Their Chief Financial Officer had made it clear that as a responsible CEO he should recommend to investors that they accept the takeover bid from Hoffner and Associates.

The storm was not breaking the heat. If anything it had intensified the humidity. Even with air conditioning there was a film of sweat on Ari's tanned heavy boned face, and his dark hair was lank. He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the strain in his shoulders, across his upper back. It didn't work. For a moment he considered pulling over and taking off his jacket and loosening his collar, but it wasn't worth it. He increased the air conditioning and kept driving.

Well after midnight he finally opened the door to his home, entering on a gust of rain. Naura was waiting for him, something she'd started doing again a while ago. He tried to remember when and couldn't. He liked it though. He liked the moss green caftan she was wearing too. It brought out the green in her eyes, and her soft brown hair was loose down her back. How could the mother of two active boys like Erlin and Sander still look just like the woman he had married?

Naura took a look at his tired, drawn face. "Don't ask?"

"Don't ask."

"All right, I won't."

She slipped her arms around his waist and kissed him. Maybe that would help. It seemed like all she did now was feel helpless. Helpless and frightened. Naura knew Ari was not telling her ten percent of what was going on, and there would be a fight if she asked any questions.

"Sander drew you a picture."

"Did he?" Ari looked vaguely around the entrance hall.

"It's in the kitchen. He insisted it go on the fridge, so you'd see it when you got something to eat. It might put you off food though."

Ari was amused. "That bad?" Sander, their youngest, was definitely carving his world to suit himself. A chubby, good natured, cheerful toddler, you wouldn't think he ever had a violent impulse. You'd be wrong.

"Come see for yourself. What do you want to eat by the way? I thought you might like to watch a couple minutes of the Anton concert to relax. It's pretty funny."

"Funny?" Ari liked Anton. He had always put on a good show, but the concerts were rarely funny.

Naura nodded, glad she had found something Ari was bound to like. She'd get him intrigued now, then feed him. "Johnny Sun ended up coming onstage. I'm sure it wasn't pre-planned and they started clowning around. They ended up doing a striptease and the concert ran about forty minutes overtime."

"That I've got to see."

"First you have to survive the picture."

They were entering the kitchen. Ari stopped in the doorway and looked at the large, crudely drawn picture almost covering the fridge. The colors were garish, and he'd guess that the subject matter was violent as always, but beyond that he was guessing.

"All right, enlighten me. What is it this time?"

"A space monster eating a transport ship. I forget where the monster is from." Naura looked at the picture resignedly. "Sander is very proud of it. It will be there for a week at least."

Ari knew it would bother Naura every time she saw it. "No it won't. Tell him I liked it so much I took it to work."

He opened the refrigerator door and rooted around. Nothing caught his fancy and he headed for the cater unit for his favorite sandwich. He couldn't face a full solid meal.

"You know, I was sure the way Sander was shaping up that he was going to be either a mercenary or an Octagla star. I think I was wrong." He looked at the drawing and shuddered slightly. It was worse than he'd expected. "He's going to make himself famous making horror holodramas."

***

"Ari ..." Naura's voice was hesitant. They were settled on the sofa in front of the media wall and Ari had an arm around her. His other hand held the remote. "This is probably going to sound stupid but..."

"But?" he prompted not really listening. He wanted to watch Anton and Johnny Sun clowning. He needed a good laugh.

The fact that it was quite likely that in a few days AntonCorp and Nemizcan Computing would have taken over his business didn't dampen the anticipation as much as it would have a few days ago. Ari had decided that the takeover had nothing to do with Pendi or Anton. It was that damned Linderson, and AntonCorp only came into it through their Number Two man, Camrail. Camrail obviously knew Linderson through Hoffner and probably just liked the smell of this one. Ari had heard Camrail was getting to own a fair percent of the heavy industry on Ennup 10 through takeovers and routinely used AntonCorp money, then paid it back. He had obviously decided to try his luck at the galactic level. That was all.

"But?" he prompted again more sharply, impatient to get started.

"Ari, could Mitra possibly know Anton? I mean, she was on Gingezel and that's where this concert is from. I mean, it's a long shot..."

"Oh, she knows Anton all right," Ari said dryly. "Apparently she and Dreen Pendi ran into each other on Gingezel and took off on a holiday together. That's why I couldn't find her the day of the accident. According to Cebron a couple I.C.E Genies have shown up just loaded with stuff for the colony from Anton, with special gifts for both Pendi and Kael. Apparently Anton is a close friend of Pendi's. The last time he sent enough for the whole colony. Everything from albums to sweat suits." He turned to Naura more focused now. "Why?"

Naura was even more hesitant now. She wished she had kept her mouth shut and just let him relax and enjoy the parts she had selected with Johnny Sun. Still, there was bound to be a lot of talk at work tomorrow. She took the remote from Ari.

"I rather think you should watch this."

***

Ari watched the retreating back of Anton as he walked off stage after M's song. "That is disgusting!" he said firmly.

Naura looked at her husband in puzzlement. She had expected him to be angry about the possibility of even more gossip and notoriety if anyone made the link between the Mitra Anton sang M's song to and Mitra Kael. That recognition might not happen outside Dellmaice Power since Anton had not used a last name. But odds were a lot of people at work would figure it out and the rumor mill would have to be damped. But disgusting? What was disgusting given his taste for explicit holodramas?

"Why disgusting?"

"He's just as good as making love to his best friend's woman."

"You mean Mitra is involved with Dreen Pendi, not Anton?" Galaxy, had she got that wrong, and so would a lot of other people.

"Kael is definitely involved with Pendi," Ari confirmed. "As to Anton, I can't comment one way or the other."

"Ari!" It was Naura's turn to be shocked.

"Who knows with those entertainment types?" Ari said. Looking at it that way he was less offended. You were always hearing shocking stories about celebrities.

"I wonder if Roween could tell us," Naura mused. "She's a real Anton fan and was looking forward to the concert, but she never so much as dropped a hint about Mitra and Anton. She might have just not said anything to be discreet, but there's no need for discretion now, is there?"

"Naura," Ari said sternly, "you are not to go on a fishing expedition about Kael's sex life with her mother." He personally was thoroughly intimidated by the woman and couldn't understand why Naura liked her. "If Kael wanted to take a wild vacation without telling momma, that's her privilege." He stroked his wife's shoulder, pushing the caftan lower. "I seem to remember someone else who did that once."

"Ari!" Naura made a show of turning on the part of the concert with Johnny Sun. Still, it was a very good sign if Ari felt good enough to tease and flirt with her. And she might just see if he was only flirting after he had relaxed watching the concert. In minutes they were both laughing.

*****

Chapter 6

Niki stared at the screen and slowly reread the message as he rubbed a hand across his handsome mobile face. Frowning, he touched a contact to speak to Sanja. They were both working late on nothing important, just clearing a bit of clutter after a long quiet supper in a little restaurant in the concourse of the tower housing the offices of the investment firm they worked for.

"Sanja, can you come here a minute?"

"Sure." Sanja slipped into her sweater jacket, walked down the deserted corridor, and let herself in. Niki's secretary Brenna had gone home hours ago. She stopped for a moment in the doorway. Niki was responding to a little TLC on her part. He still looked stressed, but the air of exhaustion was gone. As always when he was working late only spot lights on his desk were on, accentuating the angles of his face, making his dark hair look black, and his pale skin a slightly richer shade. She had vowed that she would never be on the long list of Niki Kael's women, just a friend. An affectionate smile touched Sanja's face. So much for that vow.

Niki looked up and saw her silhouetted in the door, dressed to perfection in her caramel colored suit, not a hair escaping from her coil. No matter how long a day, Sanja stayed elegant. That was her image, the Sanja he had known for years. He still hadn't reconciled that to the chaos of her condo. He waited as she walked across to his desk, the soft light gleaming on her dark hair and making her almond eyes mysterious and unreadable.

"What do you make of this?" Niki pointed at his screen.

Sanja came, leaning on his shoulder to read:

TO: Niki Kael

RE: Your Sister

Message to follow in one half hour using encryption system from SPYWORKS. Connect to SPYWORKS for decryption key.

"That's it?" Sanja shifted her hands to gently massage Niki's shoulders.

"Yes." Niki frowned. "Except for alphanumerics for the identifier, and that disappeared almost immediately. Why do messages where the sender is stripped off always make me nervous?"

"Me too!" Sanja dug her thumbs into the knots in his shoulders. "What do you think it is?"

"More hate mail." He'd been getting a steady stream of it ever since the preliminary charges were laid against Mitra for manslaughter.

He was glad Mitra was pretty much isolated from the hyperweb on Drezvir. When the Farrese rejoined the rest of the galaxy around the time Mitra was born, they had only accepted certain developments from what they considered The Outsiders. The galactic hyperweb was one of the developments they had accepted, but only marginally, with severely restricted use for their citizens.

"Pretty expensive hate mail. Do you ever use SPYWORKS? None of my clients are that paranoid."

SPYWORKS was the top of the line security software company in the galaxy. With them the sender bore the entire cost of the encryption and arranging for the decrypted message, including installing customized software on their and the recipient's computer for each specific message, initial biometric verification of the recipient's identity with the Interplanetary Judiciary registry, and the subsequent confirmation of the verification by SPYWORKS staff. Between the steep cost of using the Interplanetary Judiciary registry and the software costs themselves, Sanja reflected that she could buy that new designer sweater she was thinking about for the cost of this one message. No wonder Niki was nervous.

"Mine neither – those that I have left," Niki added resignedly.

His clients had left en masse the day charges were placed against his sister. Apparently they were assuming she was guilty and dishonesty was hereditary. Anyways, they were not taking a chance with their money. Everyone was assuring him his clients would come back but they hadn't yet.

"I expect that's what the half hour is for, to set up the decryption," Niki said.

"Can it be installed on our system in half an hour?" Sanja asked.

She was a very good futures trader and portfolio manager but not a geek. The computer support staff went home at 6:00, and in this weather it would take a while for anyone to get back. The mid-afternoon flurries had changed to a steady, driving snow in the last hour.

"I'll give it a try. I don't think SPYWORKS lets a third person touch anything anyways." Niki was not unduly concerned. He liked computers, and the successful work he had done developing his chaos theory code to influence the stock markets had increased his confidence.

***

The software installation was straightforward. For once in his life Niki had hoped the scratchy throat he was fighting would ruin the biometrics, but it hadn't. So identification by the Interplanetary Judiciary had been straightforward too. He'd had time left over first to wonder what the message would be, then to wonder if it was ever going to be sent. But exactly one half hour later it was requested he reconfirm his biometrics with SPYWORKS staff. Then another message came through with an alphanumeric as the sender. Decrypted the message said read:

271539762 Calixa

They stared at the screen.

At last Sanja said into the silence, "That looks a lot like a corporate registration number."

"Yes." Niki's voice was leaden. "I think someone has solved my puzzle as to who is behind that startup energy company, Farolavo Power, that has been using the Drezvir accident as an excuse to do a number on Dellmaice Power Systems."

At least this hadn't been one of the ultra-ultra secure messages from SPYWORKS you saw in holodramas where the message disappeared in seconds. He would have been so stupefied he would have just sat there staring and would have lost the registry number. As it was, only any trace to SPYWORKS, including the alphanumeric identifier, was gone. The number, that precious number, was still there.

Sanja looked at him with the beginnings of alarm. "Niki, do you know someone on Calixa?"

"Yes." He didn't need to go to the registry there. He knew what he would find. Mark Laratte was from Calixa. Mark Laratte knew Dellmaice Power Systems inside out. Mark Laratte had no love for his sister or Dellmaice Power Systems. He could well have come up with a design similar to hers. After all, he was the one who helped her launch the hybrid reactor project and they were a close match technically.

"Niki ..."

He was totally ignoring her. Sanja stood and moved around to the front of the desk so she could see him. He looked rough, almost as rough as the day he'd heard Mitra was charged and on impulse she had asked him to come stay at her place for a couple days. "Niki! What is it?"

"Nothing, I suppose. It's just something I should have guessed. This company that's giving Dellmaice Power Systems such a run is probably Mark Laratte's – Mitra's former fiancé's."

"Will that upset her badly? Poor Mitra. She has enough problems."

"I don't know how she'll take it. It won't cheer her up, that's for sure. The split was vicious and their problems spilled over to work. Ari Dellmaice ended up firing Mark, not her." Niki's answer was mechanical.

How could he have been so stupid? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He had seen the promo literature for Farolavo Power and wondered if he should ask Mitra for her guess as to who was behind it. But he had never thought of Mark and had ended up deciding not to add to her worries. If Mark was the brains behind this company ... Niki tried to put an end to that line of thought. Get the facts first.

"I'm so sorry," Sanja said inadequately.

"Well," Niki shrugged. "Let's do a reality check."

***

The reality check took longer than he thought. It only took minutes to confirm Niki's first guess. Mark Laratte was the principal player at Farolavo Power. It was this feeling he had, this hunch, that kept Niki hunting beyond that for over an hour while Sanja worried in the background. The result left Niki scared for one of the few times in his life. Mark had partners. One he simply couldn't trace. One was Durstin Fallor, site Power Manager for the mining colony on Drezvir. Durstin, the man Mitra had cursed as an idiot from one end of the technology transfer to the other. The man who had taken over operation of her reactor once it was up and running. Niki did not like the implications of that. But it was the third partner that terrified him. Olan Rostin, planet manager for Drezvir, was a member of Farolavo Power.

***

Niki was lying wide-awake between two warm sleeping bodies. For Sanja's sake he had pretended if not to sleep, at least to seem to be relaxed and be going to sleep. She'd gone to sleep hours ago. Her back was pressed to his and she was breathing gently, twitching now and then in some dream. What were Sanja's dreams, not only night dreams but dreams for her life? Niki had no idea, but he was going to have to find out. She was becoming precious to him.

When Niki moved into her condo he had thoroughly expected to stay in the guest room. They had established an understanding about such things when she joined the firm. She was willing to be his friend, but she had heard way too much about his reputation. That had been fine. He wasn't looking for another woman, or commitments. A couple times a year they had supper out and talked shop. Then she had blessedly offered him the guest room on a night he hadn't thought he could face his empty condo. He hadn't pushed his luck. But somehow as the day or so stretched on, sharing the space and domestic routines had changed things for both of them. After watching the Anton concert on her media wall, Sanja had asked if he really wanted to go to the guest room and sleep. She twitched again. Sweet dreams, Sanja.

Peony had been harder to fool about being asleep. Peony might be the ugliest mutt in the galaxy, but Sanja was right, she was smart. As soon as Sanja was asleep, she'd come and jumped up on his side of the bed to come and lick his face, making worried noises in her throat. He'd had to shush her for fear of waking Sanja, and had put an arm around her keep her still. Peony was now as soundly asleep as Sanja, but noisier, almost snoring. She kicked more too. Did dogs dream? He'd always thought so. If Peony was dreaming, what was it about? Not about chasing a cat. If she ever met a cat, she'd be the one to run.

Niki was not choosing, or planning. He was simply waiting for dawn. There were no choices. It was just a matter of doing what had to be done.

*****

Chapter 7

"I think that's everything then?" Juttar was focused exclusively on Dreen, his mongrel face with its heavy jowls serious.

When after a long interval Dreen didn't answer, Chett said, "Yes Juttar, thanks for your time."

Damned if he was going to thank him for one word that he'd said. Chett's stomach was in a knot, and Dreen was ghost white. Chett suspected he didn't look any better. He shifted posture slightly, stretching his long legs out full length under what had been Dreen's desk. Why the hell had Juttar decided to use this teleconference to come on as the heavy lawyer? Dreen had actually started out as relaxed and happy as Chett had seen him since the Drezvir nightmare began. They had talked to the hackers, then while waiting for Juttar they had been comparing impressions on Joran's comeback concert, and agreed he was back in superstar form. Then Juttar had linked in late, one major depressant.

Juttar nodded. "Call any time." And he disconnected.

Chett was watching Dreen. He didn't like what he saw. Dreen had never been handsome, and exhaustion was not helping but that aspect of appearance didn't matter. It was the flatness, the absence of animation that worried Chett. He was pretty sure Juttar had been trying to scare Dreen to get him to at least fight a bit. But Chett hadn't totally followed the conversation. Too much of it had been half sentences, exchanges of looks, references to Dreen's arrest as a grad student for hacking. Whatever the unspoken conversation, the approach hadn't worked. If anything Dreen looked like he'd totally given up.

"Dreen, I'll see how Brys and Vennbir are doing – you look done in."

Dreen roused himself, running a hand first over his face then over his salt and pepper bristles of hair. Brys and Vennbir. They had actually found a way someone could hack into the system. "No. I'll talk to them."

He sounded totally flat, like that one sentence took all the energy he had. "Dreen, be realistic. They are bright kids, not miracle workers. They made a breakthrough last night. They aren't likely to get further tonight."

Dreen stubbornly shook his head. "I want to talk to them." He needed that. He missed working with Brys.

Chett sympathized with that. Those kids were Dreen's defense against the very, very unpleasant alternative Juttar had just been rubbing their noses in – and it was their noses. Chett still wasn't sure if Dreen deliberately took a fall that he wouldn't be implicated as well. Sympathize or not, it was a bad idea. Depression and defeatism could be contagious.

Chett said quietly but firmly, "No Dreen. You aren't in shape to talk to them, and you aren't going to without permission from me first. Tonight you do not have permission." He waited for the blowup that didn't come, should have come. Dreen just looked at him with sad, tired eyes.

At last Dreen said, "Fine, I'm busy here," and disconnected.

Hell, Dreen was resigning himself to what he thought was inevitable. Chett simply couldn't accept that. As soon as you gave in, by definition you lost. Chett sat, staring out into the night. Well, one of them had better keep going. It was him, and he'd better start by following his own advice. That call from Juttar had really unnerved him too. So before he talked to Vennbir and Brys, he'd better calm himself down.

***

"Yes?"

Dreen opened the door wide to his little one room unit in the visitors habitat to let Mitra in. 'Yes' seemed just a little formal for lovers, but she had been icing him all day. Well, he wasn't exactly pleased with her either. He understood her leaving the cafeteria where they were all watching the concert after Joran dedicated M's song to her. But she hadn't come back from the terraformer's habitat, hadn't been at breakfast. Then all day in the analysis shed she had managed to be too busy with Tranngol to even talk to him and she had skipped lunch in the cafeteria. He didn't know about after that, because he had come to his room to talk to his hackers.

It was hard to be distant though. Mitra looked as exhausted as he felt, tiny and vulnerable all bundled up in her ski jacket. Martine had this unit in a brown out cycle, and you could almost see your breath. As she stepped past him, it seemed that she was limping worse from her broken tailbone. He searched her pale face, framed by her shapeless blue hat and didn't like what he saw in those blue green eyes. Here it comes. Here comes goodbye.

Dreen didn't turn off the Anton album he had used first for talking to Chett, Gali, Brys, and Vennbir, then for talking Chett and Juttar. Bless Bojo for thinking of sending a group of the albums that had been modified to prevent audio surveillance by the dissidents on Ennup 10 along with the copy of the M album Joran sent. Dreen had confirmed his rooms were monitored and he did not want this conversation recorded for posterity, for his trial.

Mitra shivered and crossed her arms on her chest. She was tired. She had spent the afternoon in another one of those soul searching sessions holoconferencing with Elin back at Dellmaice Power Head Office on Pendrae. They were both trying to think of potentially dangerous operating system states that could be outside the envelope Elin had used to design the safety system. Even motherly reassuring Elin, the best safety system designer at Dellmaice Power, was discouraged. They kept getting nowhere, but it was looking more and more like they must have missed something. They must just not be bright enough to see it, because Tranngol's team kept eliminating other options almost on an hourly basis now. Mitra had really counted on winding down at supper with Dreen but he had disappeared mid afternoon and not returned to the analysis shed.

She looked for any sign of warmth, of welcome in his comfortable familiar face and didn't find it. There were more lines though, making him look old. Well, he had to be just as tired and stressed as she was. This morning he, and Jann back at Nemizcan head office, and Tina from ContSaft had been having just as rough a session looking for quantum effects that could have caused problems with the computer used for the Nemizcan operator's console as she and Elin had gone through over the safety system design. They were all trying hard to find a problem too, some way the Nemizcan operator's console could have corrupted the information sent to the ContSaft safety system despite all the checks in place.

Mitra tried a smile, but couldn't quite get it to work. With that look in his face the excuse that Dreen was tired too just didn't fly. He had been icing her all day, ever since that damned concert in fact. She had stopped here last night on her way back from C.C.'s. She had wanted to say how happy she was the concert had been a success for Joran, even if the man was a bloody idiot. She'd stood there shivering and pushed the entry contact until her finger went numb from the cold. Then Dreen had been busy already with Tina in the analysis shed when she got back from the clinic and having the healing rate of her broken tailbone checked. In fact, he was acting like he was jealous of Joran.

That was just plain ridiculous. Even if he wanted to deliberately be stupid about motive and accuse her of being interested in Joran, which she wasn't, there hadn't been opportunity. She and Dreen had been traveling, and they had only talked to Joran by holoconference. Besides, Joran wasn't her fault! She hadn't asked for that necklace he'd given her, an exact duplicate of the one he wore on stage. Or that embarrassing show he'd put on singing M's song!

Well, get it over with. "Dreen, you told me you got in trouble as a hacker, that you have a criminal record –"

"And you told me it didn't matter!" Hell, couldn't she find a better excuse than that to dump him? He was not going to play out the Jiane scenario again precisely move for move. Lose a woman he loved because she wanted to prejudge him guilty rather than believe him. That was what happened with Jiane when he hacked that military database. She had refused to believe he was just snooping, not up to any malicious intent. He was not playing that game with someone who was headed for prison too.

Dreen knew he was tired and emotionally exhausted. First there had been his session with Chett, Gali, Brys, and Vennbir. The possibility of a hack had his brain in turmoil. Then he and Chett had spent an hour with Juttar discussing the realities of his taking a fall on purpose to protect Mitra. It had't gone well. Chett was dead against it. Juttar was the worst though, determined to rub his nose in the harsher consequences of his admitting culpability. Dreen had got through the session by telling himself that at least Mitra had C.C. to help her get on with her life when she got out of this. But he still couldn't think about her spending the night with C.C. without feeling betrayed and physically ill. Somehow, he suspected it was worse because he had really wanted to share the one good thing that had happened since they came here with her, Joran's receiving not just one but multiple standing ovations.

Mitra's eyes were wide. "Dreen, it doesn't matter. You know that."

He really was in the rockiest mood she'd seen. Slowly she noticed the Anton music. She was getting so used to it she hardly heard it now. So Dreen had probably had a rough session, no doubt with his company lawyers. For sure the last couple times Ari had gone on to her about their legal problems, she'd come out of the discussions so alarmed she was white and shaking. But she was determined not to add to Dreen's problems by mentioning those sessions with Ari.

"It truly doesn't matter." Mitra reached up to stroke the stubble on his cheek. "Oh, quit being stiff-backed and come here!" She gave his unresponsive body a hug that was slightly impaired by the fact they were both wearing coats.

This is not what Dreen expected at all. Had he misread the reason for the stress on her face? Was she working around to some kind of apology then? Mitra's approach to topics could be baffling at times, and galaxy knew they were all stressed out. She could well have slipped into something with C.C. that now she wished she hadn't done. And would he forgive her? Maybe, his rational mind said. Anything, the part that didn't want her to quit hugging him said.

He told that part to shut up and said cautiously, but less icily, "What did you want to talk about?"

"It's just..." She hesitated, feeling bad now about bothering him with something so minor when he obviously had serious problems. Still, she was here and he was finally alone to talk to, so she'd better ask. The last time she had come to talk the Genie pilots had been here unpacking Joran's care packages. The next night had been the concert. That damned concert!

"It's just that someone said you'd sent another hacker to prison for years, really set the guy up. Did you?"

Dreen stiffened. How the hell had C.C. dug that one up? Talk about cheap, using a thing like that to influence Mitra.

"And that's what you came to talk about?" All the ice was back.

Mitra backed out of the embrace, getting angry herself.

"Well, since you've iced me all day, there isn't anything else to talk about, is there? I'm sure as hell not going to apologize for Joran. He's your friend, not mine!"

She'd pretty much had it where Joran was concerned. People had been staring and whispering all day. It had been so bad she had simply skipped the meals in the cafeteria and sipped space glop at her desk in the analysis shed. The worst was Tranngol. He'd teased her mercilessly. And Tranngol wasn't someone she could avoid since he was running the accident analysis. She had no idea what that big man found so hilarious in the scenario, but he certainly did.

So spending last night with C.C. just didn't happen? Well, maybe that was the best approach Dreen decided. He wouldn't have suspected anything if he hadn't kept looking for Mitra. After all, Mitra might have just made a mistake, been vulnerable.

However she was obviously furious with Joran. He'd been so relieved the concert was a success and that Joran was reestablished as a top act rather than his band walking out on him again that he hadn't given M's song the thought it deserved. Mitra was now notorious throughout the galaxy as the woman Anton wrote love songs for and sang love songs to. And he had to admit that had been quite a soul exposing performance on Joran's part. She would stay the focus of the scandal sites until the next juicy bit of gossip came along. Some women would relish it. Mitra wouldn't.

He made his attempt at reconciliation. "Please, let's not fight. I'm truly sorry Joran embarrassed you. To be honest though, I don't think there is a single thing either of us can do about it. Joran does exactly what he wants. You're quite welcome to call him and tell him off, but give it forty-eight hours. Then you can use my equipment here."

Dreen expected Mitra would tell Joran off too, and that was another conversation that did not need to be recorded for posterity even if she could get the time on the Drezvir hyperweb. The dedicated hyperweb link he had with him was running the beta of the Gingezel Ultrasecure Hyperweb and was encrypted. Yet again he blessed Wayd and Gali for having the patience to get him back up to speed on hyperweb installations.

As Mitra obviously bristled, Dreen added soothingly, "Easy. I'm not hoping you'll cool off. It's just that Joran routinely ignores and deletes all messages for a day or two after a concert and refuses to take calls."

"Oh." That kind of took the force out of Mitra's pique. "How do you reach him then?"

"I don't. As far as I know, no one does. I send a message, just because I'd feel bad not sending one, but I always assume it's trashed. The best you can do is try to get Bojo \- Mrail." He remembered Mitra had never met Bojo and would think of him exclusively as Mrail. "But this time I expect he's hiding too."

He reached out to hold Mitra at arm's length. "You really want to know if I deliberately sent someone to jail for doing something I did myself?"

Mitra nodded, embarrassed.

"Do you really think I'd do something like that?"

"No. That's why I'm here to get your side."

"Well, I did help send another hacker to jail, but believe me it wasn't voluntary. It was near the end of the last year of my service with the military in lieu of sentence, and I was used by the Interplanetary Judiciary as a hostile witness."

So he told her the story, including anonymously spending money it turned out he didn't have on a lawyer for the hacker.

That sounded so much like Dreen that Mitra found herself smiling. She moved closer and reached up and stroked his cheek.

"I'm glad I came and asked. I couldn't see you doing anything like that, but he sounded so sincere, so bitter." A frown clouded Mitra's smile. "He even said you wouldn't once so much as meet his eyes at the trial."

"That detail is true. I felt so awful I couldn't look at the guy." Then the pronoun she'd used hit Dreen. "Mitra," Dreen said slowly, "who were you talking to?"

"Didn't I say? Leeth Kembel, the man you were just telling me about. Who did you think I heard the story from?"

"C.C., although I couldn't imagine how he dug it up."

"He does know it, because Leeth told both of us. He works for C.C., you see."

"Yes," Dreen said, but he hardly heard her.

Leeth Kembel was on Drezvir? Presumably he was the tough looking dark-haired terraformer Chett's friend Milton Trave had pointed out, then said had a prison record. There weren't likely to be two with a prison record on the terraformers crew. Dreen hadn't recognized him at all. Still, a lot of years had passed, and as Mitra said, he'd hardly been able to look at Leeth.

"Dreen." Mitra wasn't sure he was listening. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go. Ari is calling in a couple minutes." Lawyers again, no doubt.

"What?" Dreen frowned, trying to remember what she had just said. "Oh, yes, fine. Take your call." He stayed immobile, staring into space as Mitra let herself out.

Leeth Kembel was on Drezvir working for C.C. Windegren. And C.C., the environmental activist, would have been very glad to see a disaster both to stop the proposed import of biotoxic waste for storage on Drezvir and to discredit Dellmaice Power Systems and stop their expansion on his home planet Plenata. And now Dreen knew from the session with Chett, Vennbir, Brys, and Gali that there was a way to hack into their system if you were good enough.

Leeth Kembel. One of the few hackers in the galaxy good enough to do the hack. So maybe, just maybe, his hacker idea wasn't just grasping at straws.

*****

Chapter 8

"Kael."

"Hello Ari."

Mitra gave Ari a wary look. She really did not need more problems. Not tonight. She just wanted to be done, to go tell C.C. what Dreen said, then take something for the pain from her broken tailbone. Her tailbone was sure taking it's time to quit hurting.

"Barloth can't be in on the call. There is a crisis with the pension fund." Damn that Linderson. It looked like the pension fund was going to sell their shares to Hoffner, and that would pretty much be it. The takeover would have succeeded. Still, if he could impress Kael enough that there had to be a cessation of the takeover, Pendi might still intervene. "He wanted to be here, but it was just too important." Ari's face was grave.

"That's too bad." Mitra didn't have the slightest idea what would be going on with the employee pension fund that would outrank Drezvir. Probably something about taxes or workers' compensation. It was always one of the two. Whatever it was, it was the first good break she'd had all day.

The mutual antipathy Mitra and Haran Barloth had developed during the construction of the prototype reactor had turned into concrete loathing on Mitra's part. As far as she was concerned, Haran was enjoying every minute of the Drezvir mess. He hadn't found a single good thing to say about her legal position, and all of the bad things he said were in a ponderous voice of doom. Maybe she would be lucky. Maybe whatever was wrong with the pension fund wouldn't take as long as he thought, and he would go out and play a round of golf and get heat stroke. Ari had said it was really hot there now.

"Are you wanting to leave things then?" Could she be that lucky? After all, Tranngol here and Elin at Head Office both kept him up to date on the technical material. Since Mitra was unaware of the pressure Chett had put on Ari, she couldn't figure out how Elin was back at Dellmaice Power Systems and not on her unpaid leave of absence and threatening to quit. Elin was apparently getting along with Ari too, and even had backup staff. It didn't make sense, but that's the way it was.

Ari shook his head. "I have a question."

So much for luck. Mitra said resignedly, "What?"

"Just how involved are you with Anton?"

"Not you too!" Mitra was fed up with questions about Joran, but she had to admit Ari's was the most direct. "I have not had an affair with Anton!"

Ari grinned. She was cute, like one of those little bantam hens Naura had shown Sander at the petting zoo. "Does he know that?"

"Apparently not." Mitra sighed. "And now I expect the rest of the galaxy is sure I have had an affair."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Kael. Next week the next sensation will come along, and everyone will forget about you."

"Maybe I'll be lucky and it will be tomorrow!"

"You having a bad time?" Ari hadn't thought about it, but she could well.

"Bad enough, and Tranngol is the worst." And how could she avoid Tranngol? Dr. Tranngol Cebron was Head of Risk and Safety at Dellmaice Power and heading the investigation on Drezvir. What the big man found so amusing was beyond her, but she had to work with him.

"Why am I not surprised? But seriously, you know Anton?"

"Sort of. I mean he was around Dreen a lot in Crescent Bay, and they talked a lot."

Now that Mitra thought about it, Joran had flirted with her continuously then. But she didn't have the slightest intention of admitting that. And she had never thought it meant a thing. She had thought he was like that with all women.

"So what's he like?" Ari had thoroughly enjoyed the parts of the concert he had watched with Naura and intended to finish watching it tonight.

Mitra floundered, then ended up telling Ari about the steel band when Anton and the Anton Band were pretending to be hotel musicians on Gingezel. They had all slopped around in ratty old T-shirts and chinos or shorts, and no one had had any idea who they were without the trademark stage makeup. Since she had already told Lilla, she had the story thought out and elaborated.

Ari was laughing by the end of the recital. Kael was a good storyteller. He could just imagine Papa Ikov's ugly legs as he pounded on a drum instead of playing his horn. "Thanks Kael. We'll talk tomorrow when Barloth is free."

Ari disconnected. He had needed a good laugh. Now he better go get the bad news on the pension fund. It was bound to be bad news.

***

Mitra looked at her time strip again as she hesitated at the exit to the habitat. It was late but not too late. C.C. wouldn't be thinking of sleep yet. She had to go talk to him. Mitra pulled her woolly hat down and put her ski jacket hood up, and entered the plastic tube everyone called a snake that connected to the terraformers' habitats.

Rather to her surprise the terraformers' lounge was empty and dimly lit. There were only lights from under a few doors down the hallway. Maybe it was too late, maybe she was too used to working half the night now. She stepped into the hallway, trying to count in the dim light to see if C.C.'s suite was one with light showing under the door. Yes. Well, make that maybe. Mitra limped along the corridor trying to be quiet. Yes, this one was C.C.'s. She pressed the contact.

"Mitra!" C.C. was delighted.

He was wearing navy pajamas and a brilliant red silk robe wrapped tight around his lean muscular body. His thick black hair was wet like he had just finished bathing. In this light he looked more Oriental than Mitra remembered from childhood. She gave a fleeting thought to whether or not the terraformers felt guilty about being snug and warm. But she knew Martine couldn't easily divert any of their power to the rest of the colony since that would involve installing power lines, so they might as well enjoy it. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to though. At least she would have wanted to double up with someone who needed to be warm, one of the families with young children or an infant.

"Can I talk to you C.C.?"

"Sure. Come in. Let me take your coat."

Mitra had unzipped it, and now she held the front closed with her hands. "I'm not staying C.C."

C.C. studied her drawn face. "All right. But what is it? - 45° and dropping is a little cold for prowling around with insomnia." Those snakes weren't heated, the plastic only broke the wind.

Mitra's chin went up. "I've talked to Dreen. His story is totally different from Leeth's." She gave C.C. Dreen's version.

C.C. listened intently, then slowly nodded. "That's very different." He shrugged. "One of them is lying."

"One of them? C.C. why would Dreen make up a story like that?"

"Why would Leeth?"

"Because he's bitter, jealous - lots of reasons."

"And Dreen has reasons too, like needing to look good right now."

Mitra stared in total disbelief. "You believe Leeth not Dreen!"

"I didn't say that," C.C. said placatingly. "I said one of them is lying."

"Not one of them -"

"One of them, Mitra."

Something snapped. C.C. being obstinate on top of everything else was too much. "How can you be so stupid!" Mitra's voice was rising. "There's only one way! If you saw it, instead of just defending your friend!" Mitra knew she was rapidly getting incoherent, and C.C. was staring at her like she's gone mad.

C.C. tried to slip an arm around Mitra. "Hey, calm down."

She slapped him away, hard.

"Mitra! Calm down. You'll wake everyone up."

"So what! I -"

C.C. took a firm hold, and he was strong. "Mitra. Listen. If this means that much I'll contact dad. Maybe he can find out what went wrong. Okay?"

There wasn't an answer and he gave her a gentle shake. "Okay?"

Mitra took a ragged breath. "Okay. I... I'm sorry C.C. Okay ..."

"You're having a rough ride and you're exhausted. Promise you'll get some sleep."

Mitra hated to make promises she couldn't keep. "I'll try."

"Look. Do you want to sleep here? I can take the couch. And I'll feed you milk and cookies and hold you till you're sleepy."

And do your best to end up not sleeping on the couch, Mitra thought. Otherwise it was tempting. But if she wanted to sleep with someone it would be Dreen, except that he was icing her. Her shoulders slumped. "No. I'll go back."

C.C. didn't like the shape she was in. "I'll pull on some clothes and walk you back."

"C.C. I'm not a baby!"

***

Galaxy it was cold out there! With relief Mitra unwrapped the scarf protecting her face and slipped her hood back. She really should go see Dreen and tell him she had talked to C.C. Find out what was wrong with him. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't face getting frosted again. Mitra slowly limped back to her room.

*****

Chapter 9

Chett bundled up and took a long walk in the meditation park. The night was cold and damp with a fitful moon occasionally showing between low clouds. Not exactly cheery, but somehow it was serene and he certainly had the park to himself. Still, after three circuits of the park the lights at The Scoop beckoned.

"You decided to come down yourself did you, rather than send Vennbir?" the young black girl behind the counter asked with mild disappointment. Vennbir was cute with his mop of dark brown hair always in his eyes, such pale skin, and dreamy blue eyes.

Chett nodded, blowing on his hands.

"So what can I get you?"

"Cocoa with mint and whipped cream."

While he was waiting Chett looked around. There were a couple of nighthawks at a table in the back. As they noticed him they both nodded and went back to the game they were playing. Chett smiled. That was a good sign, and he needed good signs. It meant the staff at H.O. was getting used to him as manager. A week ago when they saw him they would have decided the break was over and headed back to work.

***

That was one cold night. Chett's cheeks were still ruddy and he shivered slightly in his standard three season suit. But Vennbir's office was warm, he'd be fine in a minute or two. He slung his coat over a chair. He hadn't bothered to go back to his office – it was too far. For a moment he considered putting the coat back on, but that would feel like Drezvir.

He and Lindy, his Vice President of R&D and Dreen's former executive assistant, had exchanged words over moving Vennbir. Chett had wanted to put him up in the executive suite. Lindy had asked him just how hard did he want to make life for Vennbir? One of the requests Dreen had made before turning Nemizcan over to him was to trust Lindy's judgement on staff issues. She had been determined on this one, standing erect in his office door, elegant, blonde, inflexible. Grudgingly he saw her point, but in turn vetoed her suggestion of the programmers' openwork space. Vennbir, Brys, and Dreen needed to holoconference in private. They'd compromised by putting him temporarily in Brys's office.

Now Vennbir was reluctantly at Brys's desk, reluctantly because he didn't like Chett taking the visitor's chair. But Chett had, and they were holoconferencing with Brys.

"Nothing, huh?" Chett asked lightly. He already knew the answer.

Brys shook her head, a few strands of hair escaping from her functional ponytail. "We're flat out of ideas on how to find evidence of a hacker in the system – or for that matter ideas on what evidence we're even looking for."

Chett's eyebrows rose. These two were expert hackers after all. He had expected to hear they had some sort of idea that was going nowhere.

Brys felt obliged to explain. "It's not the kind of system we're used to. We're used to coming into some complex network from the hyperweb where we aren't welcome, and fighting defenses.

"This one is standalone. It's set up so the operator can only change which screen they are viewing, enter data, or initiate a manual trip to shut the reactor down. And if the data changed is a trip parameter, there's record-keeping you can't avoid.

"So once you come in as a hacker, if you're any good at all and give yourself the right privileges, you can play bloody hell with the system. That's no problem. I could make the operator see an aquarium, or freeze the screen, or put up any screen I wanted. But how could that cause the accident?

"If some kid got creative and put a garbage screen up the operators would just have shifted to the alternate ContSaft console and called maintenance. And a screen that felt wrong to the operator in some subtle way on some parameter, it would probably scare the operator into a manual trip. And no matter what a hacker or operator did, they can't override an automated trip. That's ContSaft's system, not ours. And the automated trip didn't come in." Brys frowned. "And you know how altering the trip parameter is set up. You can't access them without a record of the action being set in several ways. And trying to delete those records isn't a win. All that does is change it to a record of deletion. And that Tranngol man hasn't found that kind of record ..." Brys faltered, looking at Chett's face. "Have I got something wrong?"

"No." Chett was frowning. That was what was bothering him. Brys had just reeled off a rather pat little précis of how the control room computers worked. She got that information from someone, and if it was Jann, that was a serious lapse in judgment on Jann's part. Brys and Vennbir were supposed to be giving the problem fresh eyes, not being briefed by the design team.

"I just want to know who's been filling you in."

Brys squirmed slightly and stalled by taking a sip of coffee. What had she done wrong this time? Still, by the look on Chett's face she'd better answer. "I've been talking to a very nice lady at ContSaft." The way Chett was frowning she'd better keep Vennbir out of this. "She's a nighthawk too, and we talk for hours."

Brys looked seriously at Chett. "I didn't want to ask you – or Jann's design team because you'd tell me from the point of view of our platform. I figured ContSaft would have the same answers but not talk about our computer. Did I do the right thing?"

Except for the totally independent initiative exactly the right thing, but then that was Brys. Chett nodded reassurance. Presumably whoever Brys had been spending hours bothering was cleared by Tina to work on the project. Assuming of course Brys hadn't simply called Tina herself. Tina and Andrai were notorious nighthawks and that was just like Brys.

Brys shook her head again, totally frustrated. "I learned absolutely nothing useful."

"The mode of access doesn't matter in either," Vennbir added. "We've figured out how to fool the computer into accepting our wireless transmission as a keyboard entry, but so what?" He shrugged helplessly.

"Look," Chett said. "I don't want to push. I don't even know how to push on something like this. But I have to." There was no way to shelter them anymore. Not after that session with Juttar. Still Chett found himself hesitating. Oh, to hell with it. Get on with it. He was wasting precious time.

"I assume keeping your mouth shut comes with the territory if you're a hacker?"

Brys and Vennbir nodded in unison.

"We are timing out." Chett unconsciously borrowed Dreen's phrase. He gave them the details of Juttar's call and Dreen's decision to take full blame to protect Mitra and Nemizcan staff.

"It should work if he lies and says he deliberately withheld the quantum risks from Dellmaice, then misled the design team to think they had been discussed." Chett didn't like that at all, but Dreen had said shut up unless he wanted to keep him company in prison.

"But if the Farr Sector Judiciary exercises its right to invoke a death penalty, there's no way to turn the clock back later when we get smart. Timing out is final."

He studied the two young faces. Brys's was totally matter-of-fact, which he expected. Despite the sweet face she was one tough young lady. She had to be with her background. It was gentle, dreamy Vennbir he was worried about. Had he pushed him too far?

"We'll try from the top again," Brys said. "But we do need ideas." She added under her breath, "Bastards!"

Then she added a couple phrases Chett would have to have Bojo translate. So Brys was fine. Chett turned his attention to Vennbir, expecting real trouble from the nice, overstressed young man. But Vennbir was just sitting there looking slightly stunned with the beginning of excitement at the back of his eyes.

"You've got something." It wasn't a question.

"Not got something. Maybe the beginnings of that idea Brys needed. Give us four, maybe three hours if Brys is sharp."

Chett restrained his impatience. He knew how fragile an idea could be. He contented himself with saying, "Well, give me a call at home and wake me up if you get anything."

Usually he would have hung around for a while to watch them work. They were melding well as a team, and seemed to have two modes of work: total silence or irrelevant chatter. Either way, the work they were doing only tended to enter as a single word, a keystroke, a meeting of eyes. But they moved at light speed. He'd asked Gali if he personally worked that fast. Gali said no. Chett had then asked Gali if they were screwing up going that fast. Gali said no. Tonight though Chett didn't linger. He suspected the coming day would be a beaut.

"Well, I'm headed home." Chett picked up his overcoat.

Vennbir never even noticed Chett leave. His eyes were totally unfocused, and he seemed oblivious to the thatch of dark brown hair that had fallen over one of them. Usually he pushed it back.

Brys at least nodded, but she looked abstracted too, a little frown between thick brows.

***

Brys was thinking. Vennbir obviously had an idea, but what? She went over the conversation a couple times in her mind for inspiration, but it didn't help. So she gave up, and settled in to wait. Vennbir would talk to her when he talked to her. Brys was mentally trying to sort out a question Stickman had posted on the hyperweb. Chett had told her to keep monitoring what the hackers were up to, so as far as she was concerned she was back in the community. She jumped when Vennbir spoke.

"You're going to have to help me, Brys."

"Sure, but where's your mind Vennbir? You were gone a long, long time."

"Sorry." He brushed the lock of hair back.

Brys gave it about two minutes before it was all over his face again.

"You see," Vennbir was embarrassed, "it's something I read yesterday commuting to the psychologists." He was in the final stages of his P3 assessment so he could officially work on the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb. He was unofficially, since he had hacked it, but the Gingezel consortium still wanted that assessment.

"Mm?" Brys said encouragingly. Vennbir would get there, but when he did he moved kind of fast, so it helped if you knew where he was coming from.

"About alternate universes that could exist, the various spatial and temporal dimensions, and compactness of dimensions, that sort of thing."

Brys nodded. There were some really fascinating models around, but she was still none the wiser on what this had to do with Dreen.

"Well," he shoved his hair back even though it didn't really need it yet, "when Chett started his 'I know you're trying but ...' bit that he does, I deliberately tuned out. I mean, he means well, but it's starting to get on my nerves."

"I know what you mean!" Brys said with feeling. Vennbir was smart to have skipped this one. She suppressed a shudder.

"So, I started thinking that in a way, a computer system was like a universe. You had all these aspects that weren't much different from dimensions, and relationships between them, and how quite a few relationships were temporal, but not all.

"Then I thought that we assume the temporality of a computer is largely unidirectional like that of our current universe, because that's our mindset. But it isn't at all. It can flow just as easily in either direction. For that matter, it can have essentially discontiguous points connected. I mean, there are so many things that affect how the time is handled at various layers.

"Then I think Chett used the word time?" Vennbir looked at Brys.

"He said Dreen was timing out," Brys supplied automatically. "Then he said we can't turn the clock back." But now Brys was the unfocussed one.

Vennbir watched hopefully. It didn't take long.

"And you think someone played timing games?" Brys asked.

Vennbir nodded, relieved. She was with him. "Can you think of a better way to have just sailed through trip points like they weren't there?"

*****

Chapter 10

Dreen was stretched out in Joran's sleeping bag on his hide-a-bed, totally unable to sleep. There was no sense going down to Mitra's room again to see if she was there. She wouldn't be. Again.

He'd worked up his courage and finally gone down. The strategy he rehearsed all the way there was to say he wanted company for a cup of tea, and depending on his reception try for a full reconciliation. But she hadn't been there. He hadn't thought it had taken him that long to absorb the fact Leeth Kembel was on planet, and Mitra had said she was taking a call from Ari. But she hadn't been there, and she would no more come back to her room than she had the night before. She would be with C.C.

Dreen had run into Martine walking down the corridor in an old velveteen dressing gown looking rumpled and sleepy. They were friends ever since she had helped him install the Nemizcan hyperweb, and she had given him a friendly smile that warmed her black face.

"Martine, any idea where Mitra is?" Dreen wasn't a small man, but he had to tip his head to look up at statuesque Martine.

"Mitra?" Martine yawned. "Oh, I think she told Tranngol she was going to be over at C.C.'s for a bit if he wanted her." Martine looked vaguely down the corridor like Mitra should materialize. "No doubt she'll be back soon," she said in her soft drawl.

Dreen had the sincerest doubts, but he said politely, "No doubt."

Martine yawned again and rubbed the bristles of her hair with her left hand. She gave Dreen a knowing smile. "You're really lucky Mitra is just a little thing. Tranngol and I gave it an honest try, we can't both fit on a hide-a-bed and sleep." Tranngol was a big man and she matched him in size. "So we're taking turns walking and tonight it's my turn." She fumbled with the lock on her door, finally opened it, stepped in, then stepped back out.

"G'night." She disappeared into the room.

***

Dreen didn't know how many hours ago that had been, but he'd spent them lying here alone. How could he have been so stupid? If he'd just accepted anything – everything – Mitra had said, she'd be here in his arms. He needed her here desperately. He was finally really afraid. Juttar had done a good job on that. Juttar would.

Being scared didn't change anything though, did it? They were timing out despite everyone's best efforts. Tranngol simply was not finding a concrete, explainable reason for the accident. In fact, Dreen suspected Tranngol was stalling, dragging out the last few analyses to give his hackers time.

Time to find what? Dreen didn't know. He doubted Brys and Vennbir knew. They had managed to access the system – that was something. But access wasn't enough to sabotage it. They had to prove sabotage.

And they wouldn't. With a certain sinking feeling Dreen knew they wouldn't. Not in time. Tranngol would be forced to say that there was no component that failed causing the accident. It was a command fault, the risk analyst's equivalent of garbage in equals garbage out. And the two potential sources of garbage, the sources you couldn't disprove – damn the legal system here – were Mitra's design or a quantum effect in his computer. He supposed someone could argue a quantum effect in the ContSaft units, but Tina and Andrai designed to minimize those. That probability was orders of magnitude lower than for his equipment.

So it was down to him, or Mitra, or both. Dreen had no idea which way the Farr Sector Judiciary would jump, and he didn't intend to find out. He intended to take preemptive action. Mitra didn't have a chance otherwise. From occasionally eavesdropping on those long, soul-searching conversations she had with Elin, her design ran so close to the danger zone that the only conclusive proof it was safe was a successful prototype. Well, the prototype was in pieces in the reactor hall and in the analysis shed. So much for that proof of safety.

Dreen rolled slowly from his side onto his back to stare at the ceiling, slightly illuminated by the red glow of Sinnia, Drezvir's larger moon. Joran was right. The thermal nightshirt was a bit sticky – the bag tended to roll with him.

Surprisingly enough a smile came to his face. Juttar really hadn't liked that, the idea of Dreen's simply walking down the hall, asking to speak to the Judiciary representative, Trebur Auta, and confessing. Dreen suspected that now he was geared up for it, Juttar wanted the big trial with the Farrese. He was prepared to reluctantly lose for Dreen, and win for Mitra if that was the way Dreen insisted on playing it, but he wanted it to be in court. No. Dreen's smile faded. He wanted to go to court because he wanted as long as possible to get Dreen to change his mind.

No luck, Juttar. Going to court had too much potential to get sloppy. There hadn't been any kind of poor software design on the Nemizcan system. His, Jann's, and Sam Ieono's independent analyses had convinced him of that. Their equipment had been the best commercial platform around. So, the only way an incorrect trip setting could have been passed from the Nemizcan computer to Tina's safety system was corrupted data – anything from that proverbial cosmic ray he used to laugh at to the more realistic overuse of apart of a chip causing quantum effect problems. If it went to court things could spill over to Chett, Jann, and the rest of the design team at Nemizcan. No way.

Initially Dreen hadn't cared because if they went to court arguing about whether or not they should have used a commercial platform, because any spill over would go where it belonged – all over that son-of-a-bitch Ari Dellmaice. Dreen had intended to use every last memo and recorded conversation he had that discussed the risks of using a commercial platform. Sure, he hadn't vetoed it. But power systems were Ari's game, and Ari was the one who had argued acceptable risk. And Ari was the one who had firmly vetoed the idea of a custom design like ContSaft's because the cost was prohibitive.

Now he didn't dare. He agreed with Chett. Ari would make sure any blame went straight down the ladder to Mitra. So he would have to lie, say it was the other way around. That he'd knowingly withheld the full degree of risk from Ari instead of rubbing his nose in it, then lied and told Chett and his team the risk was acceptable to Dellmaice Power. For sure Ari wouldn't dig out those memos and contradict him. And that lie would be easier to make in an office, not a courtroom.

The dull pounding of a stress headache was joining the knotted stomach Juttar had left him with. It was making it hard to think. And he had to think. Dreen clenched his jaws, which was no help at all. He would sit up to see if that was an improvement, except it wasn't just chilly, it was bloody cold tonight. He needed Mitra here, to cuddle up to, to hold, keep him warm, to ...

Forget Mitra. He'd been thinking a few minutes ago. What about? That's right, about Ari Dellmaice. A slow smile spread across Dreen's face, relaxing the tension. Ari Dellmaice might not get his in court, but that didn't matter. He was getting his out of court. Dreen couldn't believe how well Chett's takeover was going.

Dreen drifted half into a reverie. Dellmaice was going to pay. Big. Lose his company. Dreen yawned. Wouldn't he like to say the same thing about C.C.! Funny. He had started out wanting to like him. Like Ari? Dreen frowned slightly. No. Of course not. Like C.C. He'd spent time he didn't have looking up C.C.'s record. It was good. He was good terraformer. And as a whole Dreen agreed with the issues he tried to raise as an environmentalist.

But then he had started to not like him. He just couldn't agree with his techniques. Some were as theatrical as the stunts Joran pulled. Mmm. Maybe ... That was a thought. Dreen yawned again. He'd ask Joran if he was helping the cause.

But theatrical didn't make C.C. an environmental terrorist. His record was nothing like that. Record ... C.C. didn't have a record. He did. Leeth Kembel did. He hadn't been much impressed with Chett's idea that C.C. and his crowd could be behind the reactor accident. Because somehow he simply couldn't see C.C. as a serious hacker. He had probably poked around a bit as a teen. But that wasn't what this was.

If there was a hacker here. If. His mind rejected the word 'if'. The hacker here was serious and very good. Otherwise Brys and Vennbir would have found him. If there was a hacker. Dreen's stomach knotted again and he rolled on his side, bringing the sleeping bag with him. It couldn't be C.C., he wasn't good enough. Could C.C. have strayed from aggressive to terrorist? How could you know? He smiled a lot – so what? But he wasn't good enough.

Then Dreen's exhausted mind refocused. He kept forgetting Leeth Kembel. Now he was a serious, very competent hacker and he was on the scene. Dreen very sincerely suspected that Leeth was prepared to break the law. What was it he and Juttar used to argue for hours as students? Motive and opportunity. Well, if C.C. had finally stepped over the line, and Leeth Kembel was backing him, there was motive. And opportunity.

And that made him the dumbest idiot in the galaxy. Dreen spent a while working through Joran's colorful vocabulary for a stronger word than idiot and accepted a dozen or so as working self descriptions. He'd forced himself to not come between Mitra and C.C. Well, C.C. had obviously successfully capitalized on that fact. And he'd pushed her into the arms – no. Dreen forced himself be honest. He'd pushed Mitra into the bed of the very man who had caused the accident that would ruin her life.

Dreen swore and rolled over onto his other side to take another run at Joran's vocabulary. There must be a couple worse names. A third of the way down the list he needed the toilet. Now. Right now. Dreen reached for the opening – solid bag. Hell. Where was the damned opening?

*****

Chapter 11

Mitra was curled up into a little ball in Joran's sleeping bag, totally unable to sleep. Curling up like that made her tailbone hurt more, but it made the rest of her feel better, and she'd already worn out all the postures that were any good for her tailbone. She was snuggly and warm. The sleeping bag did work, and the nightgowns were a dream, soft as a cloud, warm, and a perfect fit. But neither fact made Mitra feel the least bit more charitable towards one Joran Lantonnel. She was finally getting really, really scared and warm or not, she did not want to be here alone. She wanted Dreen's arms around her, and they weren't. And that was that damned Joran's fault!

Dreen had been icing her ever since the concert, and that visit to ask him about Leeth had been the worst. When she'd tried to hold him, he might as well have been a stranger. He hadn't responded all. He hadn't even heard her when she said goodbye. Dreen had to be scared too. Why couldn't they just be helping each other through?

Why? Because of one damned Joran Lantonnel who apparently had less sense than – than. She gave up trying to find a lower life form than an amoeba that was still an animal, not a plant. Biology class was too long ago.

Joran meant well, she supposed, as she shifted position and the soft nightie slid gently across her leg. He did seem to continually send stuff to help out. But if he was Dreen's best friend, he had to know singing to her like that, telling the whole galaxy he was in love with her, would upset Dreen.

After a couple of long anxious hours meditating and fretting about it, she still wasn't sure what was going on in Dreen's head. Did he honestly believe she'd somehow deceived him and found time to be involved with Joran? Or was it that their holiday on Gingezel was enough lifetimes ago that he couldn't even remember it? Sometimes she couldn't. Or had he simply had time to think about that stupid display Joran put on and get really embarrassed? Whichever it was, he was doing a very typical Dreen, going all quiet and stiff backed.

Mitra sighed and straightened her legs. Tailbone's turn again. She'd probably never know what the problem was unless she got cranky enough to pick a fight, because he'd never talk to her. And she simply couldn't face a fight. She couldn't even face getting frosted again, so she hadn't bothered to try to see Dreen when she got back from telling C.C. he was wrong. She'd just come back to bed. Galaxy, had that been a stupid move. She was just lying here awake. But she couldn't wake Dreen up now, not this late. He needed his sleep.

If she had gone there they would have ended up having words, and she was afraid it would get out of hand like her fight with C.C. had. Even thinking about it gave Mitra an adrenaline run. She couldn't believe C.C. wouldn't accept Dreen's version! Then when he'd got her so mad she started yelling, he'd stared at her like she'd gone crazy, not like it was all his fault. All she could say was C.C. had better call Ceb.

To hell with it! She was going to go wake up Dreen. She just couldn't stay here like this. Mitra unfastened the side of her sleeping bag stuck her legs out. She froze, figuratively and literally, and ignoring the pain pulled her legs back as fast as she could. Her room wasn't cold. It was frigid. Mitra shut her eyes tight. No. Please no. The power grid couldn't have failed.

Then common sense asserted itself. No one had come for her, and with Durstin still sedated they would have. As site power engineer, he was the only one other than her that knew the whole system. They would come, wouldn't they? Or was she so disgraced they wouldn't even use her help in an emergency? Mitra opened her eyes and cautiously touched a light contact. There was light. Just a muddy glow, but there was light.

Oh yes. With the second cold snap and night temperatures below -50°C power use was way up again and Martine wasn't getting the lifetime she expected out of some of the fuel cells. So she was using rotating brownouts to try to extend them until the next transport came. That woman had her own definition of brownout! Mitra hastily resealed the bag. Cancel going to Dreen. If he refused to answer the door she'd freeze standing there in the corridor, even in Joran's quilted robe. Besides, she was not going to wear Joran's robe to go see Dreen. That would be deliberately inflammatory. She'd intended to wear her old chenille robe. But it wouldn't keep her warm to the end of the corridor, much less to Dreen's floor.

Well, she was tired of worrying about Dreen. She was tired of worrying about power distributions. She and Elin had done enough of that this afternoon. What else was there to worry about? Ari? Not really. Ari had actually been human. And maybe with luck Haran Barloth really would get sunstroke. That would leave her without a lawyer, but that didn't matter now did it?

Ari Dellmaice would have been extremely disappointed to learn that even now, after half a night's insomnia, Mitra hadn't realized that he had been talking about the pension fund that was the largest shareholder in Dellmaice Power. She also hadn't realized that what he was saying was that the takeover bid from Nemizcan Computing was now not only causing a dilution of legal resources, but that the situation was so bad Haran was one hundred percent occupied with it.

Spending the rest of the night sleepless wouldn't get her there either. Mitra had no idea who the investors in Dellmaice Power were and had no interest in finding out. She was vaguely aware of something about a takeover bid because she'd caught a couple words to that effect on a business report when she'd accidentally caught the news instead of turning on a comedy Kim had left behind. She'd corrected the mistake in seconds though, and never given the partially heard story another thought. Corporations were always taking each other over, and it wouldn't make any difference to her. She'd still work at Dellmaice Power for Ari.

And she was procrastinating, wasn't she? She had to face the fact she'd screwed up. Mitra curled up into a miserable little ball, shivering in the sleeping bag that had been warm a moment ago. She'd been so sure that if Tranngol and his team worked hard enough, they would find something had failed – the sort of thing that just didn't happen but did. A rare event, a manufacturer's flaw, whatever.

But they weren't going to. She knew that. Tranngol's team was working on the last instrumentation assembly. He said testing would be finished in a day or two. A puzzled frown crossed Mitra's brow. It shouldn't take that long. It was almost like Tranngol was stalling. But if he thought he was helping her, he wasn't. He was just making it worse. He would test the assembly and nothing would be wrong.

She'd screwed up. That was all there was to it. She hadn't meant to. She'd been sure she hadn't. But obviously she had. So she might as well just get it over with and say so. Otherwise they'd go in circles forever, worrying about quantum effects in Dreen's or Tina's computer. And they hadn't done anything wrong. She would wait until Tranngol was finished. Then she would tell Azlo it must have been her fault. But oh, she wished Dreen was holding her!

*****

Chapter 12

Rodd Turpene ignored the disapproval radiating from the nurse and placed another call. It was actually rather simple to do. He just kept a firm grip on his compad and what was she going to do? Take it forcibly away from a man who had been conscious less than half an hour?

It had been a strange experience. He'd woken up feeling disoriented and lousy. Par for the course after the kind of brain surgery he'd had. Rodd had just been relieved to wake up at all. He'd rung for a nurse and asked what time it was and if his wife Hana could come in yet. He needed to hold Hana's hand.

The nurse had given him the queerest look and rung for a doctor. When she appeared he had asked her the same questions. The doctor had given him the time. And the date. He hadn't believed the date until she showed him a newscast. That had really thrown him, but for sure it meant Hana wasn't sitting in the waiting room.

There had been an interminable delay while they checked him out. Eventually Rodd laid down the law. He wasn't going anywhere and he needed to hear Hana's voice and at least see her on his compad. Now.

To his surprise, he won. No arguments. With that teary call over with, and assurances that Hana would take a taxi to the hospital, not try to drive, he needed one more thing. To talk to Dreen. Galaxy how had Dreen coped handling marketing that long?

***

Chett blinked at the identifier. Rodd? It couldn't be. It had to be Hana. Steeling himself for bad news he pressed the contact.

"Rodd?!"

"Chett?!"

There was a pause while they stared at each other.

Chett broke the silence. "How are you?" He was sure his grin would split his face.

"Too tough to kill and pissing off the nurses." Rodd found he was suddenly exhausted. "Dreen got you filling in for me?" He liked that. It was less of an imposition, and he and Chett saw things alike.

This was definitely not the time to fill Rodd in on the crisis at Nemizcan. As soon as Rodd disconnected he'd have to talk to someone at the hospital about screening news for a day or so. Or realistically a week, or a month.

Chett said lightly, "For him actually. He and Mitra - do you remember he fell in love on Gingezel? He and Mitra are spending some time together."

"Are they?" Rodd's eyes drooped. That was good news. He lost focus. He was almost asleep.

"I'll take that compad, Mr. Turpene." The nurse tried again.

"No!" Rodd's eyes opened. "Chett." You could be blunt with Chett. "Chett... This will be a long haul. I'm retiring."

"Rodd, give it time."

"No." There was a ghost of a smile. "Patch me up and I want to freelance ... Anton ... fun...."

"All right. We'll be your first customers." But Chett wasn't sure Rodd heard him. He looked sound asleep.

***

Still sure the grin would split his face Chett called Drezvir. Dreen deserved to hear this first. One call tone. No answer. Two. Three. Request to leave a message. Chett ignored the request and called again. And again. Nine. Ten. Answer Dreen. I'll sit here all day and I don't care who you are meeting with.

On the fifteenth call tone Dreen apologized to Azlo Mirelle. "I'm sorry, but I think I had better take the call."

The closer it came to the end of the analysis and his being charged, the more formal Dreen found himself with Azlo, the expert external auditor brought in to oversee the investigation. He liked the urbane sophisticated man and needed to distance himself from that. Would Azlo believe his whopper of a lie that he had suppressed information about the risks when Trebur went trotting out of his Judiciary office to ask if this was probable? Or would Azlo just start going through the minutes of the meetings between Nemizcan, Dellmaice Power, and the Power Regulatory Commission? The long safety debates were all there if someone hunted.

Azlo nodded. "We could all stand a break anyways. Sam, why don't you get some of the stuff they call coffee?"

"Good idea." Sam Ieono, computer software risk specialist for Dellmaice Power, rose, stretched his solid middle aged frame, and fished his cap out of his parka pocket. There still wasn't any heat at all in the corridors, and he would have to walk down to the reactor operators' rest room. The coffee would be lukewarm by the time he got back, but it would be wet and caffeinated and he would take anything caffeinated right now. He had to be missing something somewhere, but what? Nemizcan coding practices were good. Logical, modular, well documented. All the same he had to be missing something.

Dreen took his compad out. "Chett -" he had been about to ask Chett what was wrong, but the grin stopped him.

"Rodd's back! He just called me."

Dreen was sure his grin was matching Chett's.

"Good news?" Azlo asked. He could stand some good news.

"Rodd Turpene our Vice President of Marketing went into a coma after brain surgery. Apparently he's out of it. How is he, Chett?"

"Tired but lucid. He only talked a couple sentences. I think the nursing staff didn't like even that. Said he was too tough to kill. And Dreen..." Chett's smile faded but only slightly as he remembered the incoherent words. "Obviously neither of us will hold him to a thing he says in the next couple months, but he says he wants to retire and be a consultant. Something about fun with Anton?"

To Chett's surprise Dreen laughed.

"Then at least patches of his memory are intact. He was advising Joran on how to minimize dirt about his years on drugs and the band quitting from getting dredged up before the concert. I gather they both thoroughly enjoyed it and he must have been distracting himself with the idea once they finished talking. Well, good for him! Whatever makes him happy."

Chett nodded. "I told him we'd be his first customers. Now, I'd better go spread the word."

***

Some things you have to do person. "Lindy! Arla!" Chett was shouting as he opened his door.

Arla looked up in alarm. "Lindy is -"

"Here." Lindy opened her door followed by Jann and half a dozen of the programmers from the Drezvir project all looking scared. "And if you don't hold it down the whole floor will be here. What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Chett swept her into an exuberant hug. "Nothing's wrong! Rodd called. He's back, lucid, some memory."

Lindy pushed him away so she could search his face. "Rodd. He's really fine?"

"I wouldn't go that far. I'd say it will be a long haul. But he'll get there."

***

Chett left the tearful, all talking at once crowd and stepped into the corridor. Any traces of a smile were gone. He had asked Arla to hold off a general announcement until he had broken the news to Celise, their interim Vice President of Marketing and Rodd's former executive assistant.

Now Chett had to admit he had been wrong, very wrong. He had honestly thought she would not last with all of the stress and bad publicity and upset clients. But she had. Other than dark smudges under her eyes that looked permanent, and an increased tendency to pause and think before she opened her mouth, Celise was unchanged. Calm, cool, elegant, and he was forced to admit, capable.

She hadn't made any changes to suit herself, and Chett would have been surprised if she did. Celise was very loyal to Rodd. About the only change from Marketing was a significant increase in expense claims for group think tank suppers out followed by a show, theater, or whatever. Rodd had always liked the format and it was a good way to keep morale up. Chett approved.

What he approved of even more was the one significant lack of change; sales had hardly dropped. There was an initial drop when Nemizcan was implicated in the accident, but it was hardly enough to call it a hiccup. Then their sales were largely back to normal. In part that might be that individual users expected computer companies to screw up. But major corporate clients were different, and Celise had done some very effective talking.

***

Celise turned from her view of the meditation park as Chett entered. "Chett."

'Chett' and an inclined head were all he expected by now. Today the inclined head was missing. What had he done this time? Chett studied her pale oval of a face with its frame of dark hair as he went over a mental checklist of what was likely to have upset Celise's rather delicate sensibilities. She had known about his involvement with Loana for some time now, so what else? Hell, it wasn't worth it. Chett put on a smile, not exactly a natural smile, not even his best professional smile, but it was a smile.

"Good news, Celise. Rodd is conscious."

"I know. Hana called." Her eyes reproached him. Hana had said Rodd called Chett right after he called her. But there had been time for Hana to be driven to the hospital and call her before Chett even bothered to tell her.

So that was it. Chett said softly, "I'm sorry if you think I should have called you right away. But I thought Dreen should be the first to know. Then there was a bit of a scene in the office when I told Lindy and Arla." He tried candor. "But the main delay was that I did a once around the meditation park en route to get my nerve up to talk to you. Didn't you see me?"

"No." She hadn't seen anything. She had just been staring. Then the sense of Chett words registered. "Nerve up, Chett? We both knew this was a temporary position. I'm just glad Rodd is recovering."

Her affection was sincere. Mentally Chett shrugged. He still didn't know how Rodd stood her, but that didn't matter. "Wrong, Celise. Nerve up to apologize and tell you I was wrong to question your competence and ..." he stopped. He had been about to say guts. But no doubt that was another thing you didn't say to Celise. "Competence," he repeated. "And to ask you if you can put aside our differences and take the job permanently."

"Chett! How could you!" Celise was outraged. "Just because Rodd will need time to recover -"

Chett ground his teeth. "I'm not a monster, Celise, and Rodd is my friend too. Remember?" He continued in a quiet, icy voice. "If you'll hear me out, Rodd was quite insistent that when he recovers he wants to retire. Relax and freelance." Mentioning Anton would be a bad move. Joran was about the only person lower on her list than he was. "Obviously he might change his mind as he feels better. But he might not and I want to explore that with you. After all," he gave her a level look, "as much as you like Rodd you might have decided you prefer running things to being an executive assistant. You might have decided that once he was back and settled in it was time to move on. A headhunter firm would have no trouble placing you."

The fine blush that spread across her cheeks answered him. "So Celise, just for once could we put personal difficulties aside and talk about whether or not the place you could be happy working for might be Nemizcan?" He added with a touch of amusement, "And you could start by asking me to sit down." Celise never slipped up on the little polite things, so she was really thrown. Chett watched the blush goes from pink to scarlet.

*****

Chapter 13

"Vennbir, I could kiss you!"

"I need a witness!" Vennbir smiled. "I've got to get myself that transfer to Gingezel."

Brys giggled. "Vennbir, I've got a serious boyfriend." She was calling up screens. Somehow she hadn't told him she was engaged to Bojo. Perhaps that was because nothing would seem real until Bojo set everything up with his lawyer on Ennup 10 and she saw their names in the registry and her ankle was tattooed.

"Totally irrelevant." Vennbir was also calling up screens, a completely different set from Brys. "So what is the best ice cream shop there anyways?"

"Shivery." Brys was highlighting areas with a stylus.

Vennbir took a look at what Brys was doing and shook his head. "Uh uh. It won't fly. What flavors have they got?"

"Vennbir! You expect me to remember all the flavors and tell you? Look on the hyperweb."

"That's not the same." He was frowning at his screen, hair in his unfocussed eyes.

"Chocolate, chocolate mint, chocolate praline ..." Brys began. She adored chocolate and this would drive Vennbir nuts. He liked the berry flavors.

"They could have gone back in time." Brys shifted from listing ice cream flavors to thinking out loud. "And the trip was there..." She highlighted another section. "But no. That's a nonstarter unless the operators were either all on the take," she had grasped that possibility from square one, "or sacked out. Because the alarms would still sound even if somehow the trip being earlier in time didn't count."

"More likely they temporarily changed parameters and moved them forward so there wasn't a trip." Vennbir suggested.

"Or went back to when it wasn't a trip," Brys countered. "We need to know more about reactors. I assume there might be a stage where that was so. I mean didn't someone say there was new fuel?"

Vennbir firmly shook his head. "That's step two. First, we have to find a way to fiddle the times consistent with what shows, or more accurately doesn't show, in the logs. Then we can get someone there to tell us if there was a state where the trip wouldn't be activated. Otherwise we're wasting time that someone doesn't have."

***

Vennbir's eyes were not unfocussed now. They were bright, blue, and very troubled behind his thick black lashes. He was tracing his way through a complicated diagram with a stylus. Brys was sitting with both elbows on her desk, her coffee mug between her hands. She was absentmindedly chewing on the rim since the contents had been stone cold for more than half an hour and she had stopped drinking it then.

Vennbir gave up. "It isn't going to work," he announced bitterly. He had been so sure he was on to something.

"Not this way," Brys agreed. They had been working at the system level where the Nemizcan software had been installed, assuming a hacker would go in at that level. "But there are a lot of levels down before you hit the stage of mechanically adjusting the clock with a screwdriver."

"Brys, you do not mechanically adjust the clock with a screwdriver!" Vennbir was appalled by her ignorance.

"And you don't recognize humor when you hear it! Come on, I need a fresh cup of coffee. Why don't you get to some of those candies you like, then I have an idea I want to try."

She wondered how long it would be before Vennbir was cleared to come to Gingezel and they could physically meet. What did those candies taste like? Vennbir said sort of like toffee and they made it hard for him to talk, but did they smell good? Brys stood up and stretched.

***

It was nearing 4:30 AM on Tranus, that low time for the human body and spirit and Vennbir was feeling it. It wasn't like he was working two shifts either. Except for his afternoon sessions with the psychologists to get his clearance for Gingezel, he was working full-time on Dreen's problem. But he had never worked later than 1:00 or 2:00 AM before he started collaborating with Brys, and his metabolism just wasn't up to these all-night sessions. He knew he wasn't being forced to match her hours, but he wanted to.

This was strictly a professional courtesy, of course. Their job was important and if they weren't working together they could miss the nuances. Vennbir was watching Brys, not the screen. She was dressed the way she had been every night except for the Anton concert, in an old sweatshirt with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Galaxy, had she been something to look at that night. He'd never seen anyone look like that. Vennbir wondered how serious she and Mrail were. Were they just dating or what? After all, he was an old guy, well into his thirties. Still, being famous and having all that money had to count for something, and Vennbir knew he could never compete at that level. But he and Brys worked so well together. It was like he'd known her forever. Maybe when he got to Gingezel...

Vennbir realized he wasn't just drifting, he was getting really off track. He forced himself to focus on the code on the screen. It was about fifteen minutes later when he made himself be the one who said it.

"Brys, this isn't going to work either." He was not completely sure though, and it showed.

Brys was feeling stubborn. It was a feeling she had come to trust in her fights with Dreen. "It would, if we could just modify these two attributes of this -" she pointed with her stylus.

"But we can't without having an impact on just about everything!" Vennbir objected.

"I don't want to eliminate the existing attribute, just extend this one, and..." Brys chewed on her lip.

"Brys ..." Vennbir was tired.

"Maybe if we go down a few more layers in the software -"

"Brys!" Vennbir cut in. He'd heard that how many times now? "You are starting not just to hack, but to screw around with really fundamental system functioning. I'm not sure you can do that and still have anything run."

"You're not sure!" Brys pounced on the words.

"And you're not sure you can!" Vennbir fired back.

"No." Brys sighed and pushed back a limp strand of curly hair that had escaped the scarf she now used to tie back her hair instead of a ponytail clip. Bojo liked the scarves better, but they just didn't hold as well. "I think it's time to call Gali."

"Brys... it's after three in the morning there." Vennbir was still having trouble with her total indifference to time and her complete disregard for corporate hierarchy. He was used to a very rigid structure from his work on data entry. You spoke to your superior who spoke to their superior who... Brys tackled anyone, anytime.

"So? He'll be a bit groggy, that's all. Nothing a couple cups of coffee or a stimutab won't fix. And like Chett said, Dreen is timing out." She precluded further argument by placing the call. "Then while he's getting dressed, I'm going to call that nice lady at ContSaft and find out just what difference the refueling made."

***

Gali looked at the time strip by the bed. There could only be two calls coming through at this time of night. Jann from Tranus, telling them that the girls were sick, or Brys. He was prepared to lay odds. Not on Jann. Gali forced resisting muscles to sit up. Just as he squinted at the identifier, he remembered that the girls had arrived for a visit two days ago and were across the hall, not with Jann. He turned to Keya with a sigh.

"Go back to sleep. It's just Brys. I'll take it in the living room."

"Mmmm" Keya rolled onto her stomach. That girl was a hazard. She just managed that thought before she was sound asleep again.

Gali sat for a moment trying to come to, then started for the living room. As he stepped into the hallway there was a noise somewhere between a shriek and a scream. He froze, trying to remember if there had been a sensation of stepping on something small and squishy. But no, Pinky was against the far wall hissing in outrage but apparently unharmed.

The first store the girls had discovered was the pet shop and they had talked Keya into a micro cat. These miniatures had been bred down until an adult was smaller than a kitten. They hadn't arrived on Tranus yet, and the girls were enchanted. Gali had to admit it was an adorable ball of white fluff right now, a couple of months old and tiny. He did wish though that the girls would confine the creature when they weren't keeping an eye on it. Ever since Pinky had arrived in the apartment he had been terrified of stepping on the poor thing.

"Sorry Pinky." Gali did not try to pet the creature in apology. Those little teeth were razor-sharp. Now wide awake without need for coffee or a stimulant he walked into the living room.

"Brys." Gali had wrapped on a robe but he hadn't bothered to comb his thinning blond hair. His homely features were concerned. "What has our hacker managed to do now?" It had to be something major. Brys was getting good at dealing with any night time hacker attacks on the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb on her own.

"Nothing. Vennbir has an idea we're chasing, and we have a couple questions that are deep down in the system. We don't trust our answers. Can I ask you?"

Gali nodded, and listened. "Sorry Brys I can't tell you without reference to the documentation. I'll come downtown to the office. Sorting this out will take a while. But here is where to start looking..."

***

Well, it could be done. Gali's face was grim as he looked from Brys to Vennbir. If someone had done this it was not casual malicious mischief, if that wasn't an oxymoron. But he didn't know what else to use to describe the situation where a hacker was rambling around, saw something to try, and caused more damage than they counted on. But if the scenario Brys and Vennbir had developed had actually happened, they were looking at a very well planned, well researched piece of work. Sabotage. If. If it had happened.

The two young faces were not grim. They were obviously elated that they were right. Fair enough. Gali would personally never have thought of this one.

"Do you have any idea of how many hackers out there could do this? Or can you even tell me specific ones who could have done something like this?" Gali softened the question. "I'm not saying any of them did do this. But I have no feel for how many could have pulled off something like this." He had no idea whether or not Brys or Vennbir would feel bound to some code of honor and refuse to answer him, even though he didn't intend to try to identify the people.

There was no hesitation though, unless you counted Vennbir deferring to Brys as he always seemed to.

"Rosy," she said immediately.

Vennbir nodded. "Sync or SortMe."

It was Brys's turn to nod. "PlantMan."

"Definitely. JustFooling?"

"Yes." Brys hesitated. "What about StickMan?"

Vennbir shook his head. "He's smart, but he's still learning."

Gali was intrigued. Even when using sex-linked names, until now in the list they had not used a gender related pronoun. "How do you know it's a man?" Brys had also insisted that the gender of the Gingezel hacker was a male.

Vennbir shrugged.

Brys said, "It just is."

Gali that that pass. "I'm curious, who are the pair of you?"

"Library Girl," Brys volunteered after an uncomfortable silence.

Vennbir just grinned.

*****

Chapter 14

Dreen pushed his tray to the cashier, but he wasn't watching her. He was deciding where to sit to eat breakfast. To his surprise, Mitra was here, at one of the small side tables deep in conversation with Tranngol and Azlo and Milton. He debated joining them. Sometime today he had to have a serious talk with Tranngol or Azlo about what Vennbir and Brys had found out last night. He realized there was no guarantee the Drezvir system had been tampered with that way, but he wanted it checked. He also wanted the conversation to be private, so maybe this was a bad time to join them, because if he asked Azlo to speak to him privately Mitra might get curious. And he did not want any of the details of his request to get back to C.C.

Dreen had picked up his tray automatically, and was standing just to the side so he wasn't blocking traffic when Tina came up.

"I jumped queue so I could catch up to you," she announced cheerfully, an only slightly artificial smile on her face. "Join me?"

"Of course." Dreen's smile for his old friend was sincere. Tina was drawn and pale and looked like she could use some company. There were dark circles the artfully applied makeup could not hide, lines of worry he'd never noticed before in her lovely porcelain skin, and her smile was brittle. The crow's feet that had been at the corners of her blue eyes for years now were deep furrows. She had always been trim, but like Mitra she was losing weight she could not afford to. Her black hair was still its usual crisply curled style so dry shampoo must not be a problem for her. He followed as Tina led the way to another small table on the opposite wall to Mitra. It was an unpopular area partially secluded by planters and they had it to themselves.

As they settled themselves, Tina said casually, "Your two little hackers are an adorable couple." Then she laughed at the blank look on Dreen's face. "I thought so. I haven't heard a word from you, or Chett, or Gali, or Jann. I take it their calls have been their own initiative?"

Dreen nodded. "Probably Brys's", he said resignedly. "That girl is totally oblivious to protocol, or time for that matter. I hope they haven't made a nuisance of themselves."

Tina shook her head. "Not really. I haven't been sleeping much anyway – I'm a nighthawk by nature. But I feel like I should be available to Tranngol and Azlo. So ..." she shrugged off the eighteen or twenty hour days. "I've been glad of the company, and they usually have very specific questions. Last night it was all how trip points vary with fuel." She gave an inquiring look at Dreen, who was suddenly making a point of spreading jam on a roll. All right, either Brys and Vennbir were not getting anywhere, or they had, and Dreen was really upset. Tina let the fishing drop.

"You know, they remind me of Andrai and me at that age. They're so intent, but so sweet at the same time. How serious is it?"

That stopped the spreading. "Serious? Come on, Tina."

"Serious. You should watch Vennbir sometime instead of just thinking computing. He can't take his eyes off her."

Dreen sighed. "I'll take your word for it, but he's going to be one very disappointed young man."

"Someone else at work? There can't be many there as cute as that one, Dreen."

"No. Mrail."

"Oh, Dreen, not really! I can see a girl getting a crush on a celebrity. But it can't be serious, if he's even noticed her." Tina supposed they might have met since Anton was Dreen's friend. But Mrail? He was creepy and Brys was a sweet girl.

"Mrail's a good friend of mine, Tina. Believe me. They're serious." He looked at her. "You aren't a gossip reporter. It's at the living together stage of serious, last I heard, and neither would take that casually."

"Poor Vennbir." Tina thought of those dreamy eyes and sighed. "Why does love so often not work out? Andrai and I were so lucky." She smiled again, a soft, tender smile. "When your little hackers aren't keeping me company, I've been writing him love letters. I'll probably delete them all and never send them, unless –" Her smile faltered then was back, a forced, bright one. "Well, we've always been so busy I never had time for things like that. And..." Now it was Tina who was carefully applying a pattern of sweetener to her cereal. "I don't know why I told you that."

"That's all right," Dreen said. "We've all been friends for years." Tina was right though. Both the behavior and the confession were very unlike her. She was always friendly, but she was naturally brusque and rooted in the day to day. He took a better look at her. She was exhausted.

"Tina. Are you sleeping at all?" Dreen asked.

"Not much," Tina admitted.

On impulse Dreen put a hand over hers. "Why don't you do some catching up this morning? Azlo and Tranngol will be totally tied up until midday or later testing that last assembly from Tranus Dynamics. I'll lend you that sleeping bag Anton sent." He should really have offered it earlier, but he hadn't thought. Or maybe he had been selfish. It was such a luxury to be warmer. "And you can at least rest if not sleep."

Tina wavered. There was some sense in what Dreen said. If the assembly was in any way out of spec there would be a lot of questions coming to her about how her system handled it. She would have to be awake and alert, more so than a couple stimutabs could do. "Thanks Dreen. I'll take you up on it, as long as you make sure Tranngol and Azlo know they can wake me."

"Good." Dreen gave her hand a squeeze and released it. "I'll even throw in some relaxing music. I think I may now have the most extensive Anton and Johnny Sun collections in the galaxy." That barely got a smile. She really was exhausted. His tone became serious. "Does Andrai know you aren't sleeping?"

"No. I don't want to worry him – and you aren't going to either, Dreen," she warned.

He didn't promise. Andrai was as close a friend as Tina. "Tina, if I were Andrai, I'd want to know. At least I could keep you company while you were awake."

"Dreen, with the time difference, he'd lose more than half a working day."

"I can't believe you aren't both so organized that ContSaft can't run itself. Besides," he waited until Tina met his eyes, "you know that's not fair to Andrai. You must be his first priority right now."

Dreen really could be sweet sometimes, but Tina felt obliged to throw in one more objection. "But what would we do? I'm not just talking forty minutes of tossing."

"Play games. Sort your hologram albums, watch a holodrama together. Does it matter?"

"No..." Tina said reluctantly, but the idea did sound good. She started on her cereal again, at the moment her mind more on Dreen then Andrai. He was, if anything, more Andrai's friend than hers. But she'd always felt very close to him, like they could talk about anything. She supposed that was why she talked so much now.

"Sometimes I wonder if things had been different, if we –" She stopped, realizing she was thinking out loud. She took another mouthful of cereal. With luck, Dreen would take 'we' to be her and Andrai, and that she almost said something private, and reconsidered.

He didn't, because his thought processes had been very similar. He said simply, "Yes, and I think we could have made a very good life together. But you and Andrai had been married – what was it – eight years? – when I met you, and I'm not a home wrecker." Dreen smiled wistfully. "You can't believe how disappointed I was at that conference when I was talking to you, and Andrai joined us and you introduced him as your husband. I'd been so busy talking I never thought to look for a ring."

Tina smiled. "So you've made yourself a good friend to both of us."

"And you and Andrai have been very happy. Remember, you're writing him love letters."

"That I'll never have the nerve to send."

Dreen shook his head, breaking the dangerous mood. "Dumb, Tina. Do it before you nap off. He will be really pleased."

*****

Chapter 15

"Thank you for answering a call so early, Collan." This was ridiculous Niki thought, feeling nervous and being formal about calling his old friend. He noted that even at this early hour Collan was freshly showered and shaved. Wearing a dressing gown of an elaborate paisley, Collan looked more pink and cherubic than ever, and to Niki's mind depressingly fresh.

"No problem, Niki. What can I do for you?" Niki was unshaven, unshowered, wearing rumpled pajamas, and it looked like he hadn't slept. This worried Collan. He had never seen Niki other than perfectly groomed. Then Collan got distracted. The room he could see in the background was definitely not one in Niki's apartment. He seemed to be sitting on a sofa piled deep with patterned cushions, and a large plant was almost touching his shoulder. Patterned cushions were not Niki's style, and he did not keep plants other than his herb collection.

"I think I've solved the mystery of that startup energy company."

"Have you? Who's behind it?" For someone who had just solved a first-class puzzle Niki did not look very pleased with himself.

"Collan, I would really prefer to give you the same hint I got and see if you get to the same place. Part of the route is tortuous and I don't want to be wrong."

"If that's what you want," Collan said carefully, watching Niki's face. "I thought I've tackled this one from every direction there is, but I'll try again. You said you got a hint. Who from?"

"I have no idea. It was forwarded through SPYWORKS. It was just a corporate number and a planet of registry."

"Interesting." Collan drawled the word. "That's one damned expensive hint. Any idea why it came that way?"

"A few dozen, but I don't want to prejudice you."

"All right. Drop by with the hint later today and we can have a shot at it. You have me curious now."

Niki hesitated, looking at his friend, mentor, and colleague. "Actually Collan, unless you're doing something that simply can't be deferred I'd appreciate your doing this first thing. Also I don't want to be there. I want you to document the results stating that I was not party to what you found, and to seal it with your biometrics."

Collan's eyebrows rose in his bland round face. "That bad? Who am I preparing a legal document for?"

"The Interplanetary Judiciary."

"Well, well, this should be interesting."

***

"Good morning, C.C."

Ceb greeted his son mechanically without paying much attention. He was at his desk trying to get as much work done before noon as possible so he could work in a meeting with Niki and Chelan. Off and on he had speculated about what they could possibly want that was official Interplanetary Judiciary business, not social. Urgent business at that. He wasn't getting too far. It was always possible that Niki had come up with something useful about the very bizarre behavior of the stock market at the moment. It was rather looking like someone was using a code similar to the one Niki had got his license pulled for using.

But it was beyond him why that wouldn't have Niki heading to the Trade Regulatory Commission. Unless of course their members were implicated. Unfortunately that wouldn't be the first time in history. Problems with the Trade Regulatory Commission however did not account for Chelan's presence. He was a lot more likely to tag along if Niki had to come to confess to market manipulation again, and they had decided it would be easier to get the words out to a friend. Well, time would tell.

Ceb turned his attention to his son. "How's your mining friend faring?" Ceb assumed he was about to get another earful about the unfairness of the Farrese Mining Guild holding a disciplinary hearing against the shift foreman who was in charge at the time of the reactor accident. C.C. simply refused to believe his friend could have done anything wrong to make the consequences of the the power failure worse. Ceb did not agree. The fact was that there had been fatalities, and a review after a fatality was always sound practice.

"Mining friend?" C.C. was groggy and didn't have the slightest idea what his father was talking about. He had called as soon as he woke up so he wouldn't get busy and forget, or have time to decide Mitra was making a big deal out of nothing.

"The man who was shift foreman when the accident occurred and is up for a disciplinary hearing. I'm sorry, I forget the name."

"Oh. Ken Kwan. He's all right." C.C. rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I mean he's as all right as he's likely to be. The hearing is next week, and the Mining Guild has allowed the lawyer I got him to holoconference at the proceedings."

C.C. shrugged. "The lawyer isn't optimistic, but I think I've got a better job lined up for Ken anyways. The best news is that he'll be allowed home out of the hospital in a day or so. Little Ginny is all excited." That was really good. She had been so quiet and withdrawn since getting lost out in that red blizzard.

Putting the Kwan family out of his mind, C.C. stretched and tried to get things back on track. "That isn't why I called."

"So I gather. So what is the reason?" Ceb knew C.C. was meticulous about keeping personal calls outside business hours.

"Can you look up something about Leeth Kembel's trial?"

"Isn't it a little late to run a background check on the man after he's worked for you this long?" Ceb asked dryly.

C.C. flushed. "It isn't that. There are two versions going around about the involvement of Dreen Pendi, you know, the Head of Nemizcan Computing. Leeth says that Dreen set him up but good."

His mind replayed Leeth's bitter words, the details Leeth had been willing to share once Mitra was gone. "Pendi was an expert witness at my trial. I was in trouble anyways. I knew that. But he was the one who discussed in detail the areas I was looking at and the damage I could have caused. Potential damage. I hadn't done a damn thing, just looked around. No more than he did. But he's sitting there pontificating. The bastard wouldn't even look at me."

"Than he did?" C.C. had been confused.

"Oh yes, the great Dreen Pendi of Nemizcan Computing is no better than I am. He got caught about a year and a half earlier hacking the same military site. But his family bought his way out of it. They fund a prestigious research chair at the University where he did his degree. So the University went to bat for him. He did three years military service, that's all. There isn't even a record of charges."

"I see. Or at least I see why you don't like him." But C.C. had thought he could see Dreen's side too. What was he supposed to do? Refuse to give evidence or lie under oath? As the son of a member of the Interplanetary Judiciary he took such things seriously.

Now C.C. decided that Mitra was right. He needed to know the truth. "Dreen Pendi's story is that he was called as a hostile expert witness and even put up money of his own for Leeth's defense. Leeth swears all he ever saw were state provided lawyers." He looked at his father. "I hoped you could tell me who is lying."

Ceb thought a bit, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I see. That's quite a discrepancy in stories, too much to be accounted for by the sort of differences that show up just because people are under stress and their memories differ. Yes C.C., I can probably find out some of what you want. At least I can find out about whether or not Dr. Pendi was ranked as a hostile witness. I am less sure about attorney records, how long they are kept varies from planet to planet. It may be a day or so until I get around to it. Is that fine?"

"Sure," C.C. was disappointed but he knew better than to show it. His father was the ultimate bureaucrat. Slow, precise, and linear. This would get put at the bottom of his to do list, and not get touched until a lot of irrelevant desk work was done. Still, it would be faster than he could manage since C.C. didn't know where or how to look.

"Very good. Do call Beti one of these nights, C.C." Ceb was already picking up a memory pac.

"Sure, Dad." C.C. broke the call.

Ceb made a note to have his secretary look that information up for C.C. Then he turned his mind to his most pressing concern, the total absence of contact from Witieral, his usually resourceful operative on Ennup 10. Witieral was good, the best, and that offer from Mr. Camrail to see if his factories were a fit for a product endorsement by Witieral as a hurdler had seemed like an ideal way to get more information on the current problems. Witieral could tour the factories in various cities and have a reason to talk to a range of people. This loss of contact should not have happened. Ceb's mind went through the options while his fingers did routine desk work.

*****

Chapter 16

Despite Niki's protests that this was definitely not a wise thing to do, Chelan had his son drop him at the park en route to Collan Rydler's office. There were almost two hours before Ceb could see them, and Niki wanted to spend that time verifying his and Collan's research. Chelan on the other hand wanted to spend that time thinking, and bolstering his nerve.

"Thank you Niki." Chelan opened the door and stepped out into the fine, driving snow.

"You won't be late for the meeting?" Niki asked anxiously. He did not like the idea of his father being out of his sight.

"No Niki," Chelan said, a trifle offended. He used a sudden gust of wind and swirl of snow as an excuse to firmly shut the door. Turning, he started down the path that meandered through the center of the park, equally oblivious to the biting wind, the driving snow, and the drifts that were just starting to form across the path. His mind was totally occupied with the fact that he was about to both oppose and deliberately deceive Roween. He didn't like to do either to his wife, but if he was going to, he'd better do a very good job of it. He had learned that.

First though, Chelan wanted to be sure he had no choice. Slowly and meticulously he turned matters over in his mind. From the very beginnings of this nightmare with Mitra, Roween had been a real problem. Although she would not for a moment admit it, he suspected that all along Roween thought Mitra had made a mistake designing the reactor. For years she had frozen Mitra's image as a teenager, and made general noises about Mitra getting above herself as her authority in projects increased. Chelan had no such frozen images. As far as he could tell, Mitra was every bit as competent and professional as her mother was. But that wasn't the point. Roween's attitude was.

Roween had also made it very clear that she believed Dellmaice Power was both the correct and capable entity to handle legalities. In fact, Chelan rather suspected that if she hadn't come to him still in shock, that she might well have dismissed Mitra's assessment that she needed her own lawyer and he would never have heard about it.

A lot of this was because Roween was very much an Ari Dellmaice fan. She had met him once or twice specifying energy systems for projects she was involved in, and she said she was quite capable of recognizing professionalism when she saw it. She had found Mitra's rather blunt complaints about the man's domineering manners upsetting. Roween liked her opinion to be right. And now, with her first collaboration with Naura Dellmaice on a children's book looking like a success, and a second collaboration likely, Roween was even more inclined to consider her daughter totally unreasonable where the Dellmaices were concerned.

Chelan had no idea why the fact Naura Dellmaice was a pleasant, charming woman – a fact he agreed with thoroughly, and he had really enjoyed taking holograms of Meg and Basil for her ... He paused, confused. Where was he? Oh yes, he couldn't see why the fact Roween liked Naura Dellmaice should help convince her that Mitra was wrong in her assessment of Ari, but it had. As far as he could tell, there was no rule lovely women couldn't have odious husbands.

Chelan sighed as he veered into a side path to let the wind try to sneak down the back of his neck instead of freeze his left cheek. Then there was Mark. When you came down to it, Mark Laratte was the reason he would have to lie.

Roween had been absolutely delighted with the idea of Mark as a potential son-in-law. He had charmed her as thoroughly as he had charmed Mitra. When the break had come, Roween had solidly taken Mark's side. She had been sure that if Mitra had had the sense to defer to his superior judgment and engineering expertise rather than keep at him with her silly ideas, he would never have been driven out of his own home, much less lost his job. There had been quite a few 'if a man can't count on total support in his own home' lectures that had resulted in Mitra being livid and Chelan biting his tongue, since Roween had always been his own most thorough critic.

If it was suggested to Roween that Mark was involved in industrial espionage, she would refuse to even look at, much less believe the evidence. What she would probably do, he thought with a resigned sigh as he pulled his cap further down over his face and adjusted his muffler, would be to find out where Mark was, call him, and warn him of the slander, or was it libel, going around about him. Was the word libel or slander? Chelan had always had trouble with those two. He allowed himself to be distracted with the grammatical and legal point for a bit.

A sudden and rather alarming absence of the pain that had been a background sensation in his left cheek and earlobe made him wonder if just maybe he'd been out in the cold too long and got frostbite. Looking around, Chelan found his feet had made the decision he had been shying away from. He was at the edge of the park, just opposite the luxury hotel he always called Nevin Pennell from. He removed his gloves, placed his hand over the numb area on his face, and headed for the hotel.

***

It wasn't really too bad, Chelan assured himself as he stepped into the dimly lit, secluded lounge at the back of the lobby. He had inspected his face carefully in the washroom after leaving his coat in the cloakroom. The hard white waxy spot was only the size of his little fingernail, and the rest of his face was already burning fiercely. The one spot had always been a weak spot anyway, ever since he froze it as a kid.

Chelan relaxed a little as he stepped into the familiar surroundings. Roween, if asked, would have said neither she nor Chelan had ever been in this particular hotel. That was why he had selected it as his operational headquarters, as it were.

"Good day, Professor," the bartender said. "Or are those the wrong words? It's a foul one out there." The professor was a regular, sometimes in as often as three times a week, although it was almost a month now since they had seen him. Probably that was because of all the stress with his daughter and that terrible accident. The bartender however, did not mention it or offer sympathy. He had learned from experience to let his customers take the lead as to whether or not they wanted to talk about problems or hide from them. Instead he said, "Is it cold enough to warrant a shot of liquor in your coffee?"

"Yes, please." Chelan personally subscribed to the dilate the blood vessels with alcohol theory. "And if it isn't trouble, perhaps a bowl of hot soup from the kitchen?"

"It's no trouble at all," the barman reassured him. He added, "Your favorite privacy booth is free. Want me to bring them there?"

"Thank you."

As Chelan wandered off in that direction, the bartender watched his back with mild amusement, still wondering just who he spent his time talking to for hours in a privacy booth. When the professor had first started coming in as a regular, speculation had been the usual, that the prolonged conversations were preliminary negotiations with some lady they would see in a few weeks. But when that didn't happen, and they got to know the professor better, speculation started in earnest. Maybe he was into some kind of espionage. Maybe he was a drug dealer serving an upper class clientele. Maybe he was a hit man. That one got a lot of backing. The argument was that his mild manners and totally harmless appearance would be a real asset in that line of work.

Total disillusionment had come about three months later when the bartender's wife and daughter came in to say hello after a shopping trip nearby. His girl had been delighted when the professor had come out of his booth to greet her by name and had said her last essay had been most interesting to read. When he had wandered back to his booth, she'd explained he was her history prof. So the best guess was probably he loved to get into those long, complicated role-playing games that could take years to play out, and for whatever reason he simply liked the ambience of this particular bar.

Chelan did like the ambience of the bar, but the fact Roween didn't know it existed was by far the most important factor in his choice to use it. The mushroom colored, overstuffed banquettes were comfortable, the tables almost indistinguishable from real cherry wood, and the privacy booths well designed so you could both see whoever you were calling and the lounge. They could also be opacified almost instantly, important to him if anyone he knew should ever come in, and he suspected this factor was designed to aid and abet straying spouses. The thought that he might be assumed to be having an affair usually amused Chelan, but today it never even crossed his mind as he settled with relief against the plush banquette and placed his call.

Being on Nevin's priority list did not automatically mean access to Nevin. Today, Chelan got that very pleasant young woman who was Nevin's personal secretary.

"Can you hold for a minute or two, Dr. Kael? Nevin will want to take your call in private, and he's in a meeting."

While he was holding, the coffee and soup came. It was a rather delicious soup in Chelan's opinion. The broth was thick and hearty. It was heavy on the tomato and beans, and there were large chunks of sausage. He liked these peasant style soups, but Roween of course made elegant consommés, or purees. Chelan broke a crusty roll in half and dunked it in his soup. He was still chewing on the roll when Nevin appeared.

"Hello Chelan, what can I do for you?" Nevin was concerned. His old friend looked terrible.

Chelan had to take a moment to swallow, then he countered with a question of his own. "Am I interrupting you?"

"Yes and no. I'm at one of those meetings I've seen too many of lately, where everyone tries politely but firmly to tell me my space station can't be built." Nevin gave a tired smile. "You're the historian Chelan. Tell me if this one is all backwards. I thought it was supposed to be the youngsters who had the wild ideas, and it was our role as the elders tell them it couldn't be done, preferably in a sufficiently insulting and derogatory manner that they got their backs up and decided to do it anyways, even if they had doubts themselves."

Chelan smiled back. "That's the general trend, although there is a comparable one of finding the younger generation lacking. Usually it's a lack of judgment, stamina, patience, that sort of thing. But if you personally want to find them lacking in a sense of adventure and imagination, go right ahead. It's a free galaxy."

"Well," Nevin said firmly, "I do find them lacking, and I'm more than happy for a break. I've told them we will reconvene after we've all had a good lunch, and to try a little harder in the meantime to be creative." He hesitated. "So, I'm at your disposal, but do you want to finish your own lunch first? You can call me back."

"Not unless my talking and eating at the same time offends you." It certainly hadn't when they were young. Nevin had been freest with words with a pizza slice in hand. "It's just working up to a blizzard outside, and I've been walking and thinking. I need to warm up."

"Then eat. I'll have my own meal sent here." He waited while Chelan had a few more spoonfuls of soup. He would not look this upset about anything on their Gingezel project. Of course Chelan was behind schedule on delivering modified plans for the next historical city to be constructed, but Nevin understood. Chett was keeping him briefed on the Drezvir situation, and it was looking very grim at the moment for both Mitra and Dreen. Nevin had simply told his architects and construction managers to work around the questionable spots if they could, and to give everyone a vacation if they couldn't. No one would object to a Gingezel vacation. What he didn't know was if Chelan needed help, or simply someone to talk to. And if he needed help, what was he in a position to do?

Chelan put down his spoon and had a sip of spiked coffee. Using this Gingezel hyperweb was a treat. At the university you sent encapsulated messages most of the time, or holoconferenced for a few minutes with someone off world. But with the dedicated web he and Nevin could have a leisurely meal together. That helped. Chelan was rather afraid he'd get flustered and incoherent if he had to hurry.

He looked at Nevin's grave face. "You've guessed I'm calling about Mitra. I need your help, Nevin."

"Of course." There was no hesitation. "What can I do?"

"I need a Genie," Chelan said firmly, "and you're more likely to know how to get one than I am. This is a sleepy, academic planet. A person is a big shot on Plenata if they even own a space yacht, so I don't think I can get a Genie on planet. Do you perhaps have one? I mean you are building a space station for Genies."

"Oh." Nevin did some fast mental rearranging. "Actually, mine is just being built. But I'm sure I can get you one, so that's not a problem. But can I ask why you suddenly need one?"

"I want to be with Mitra. I've wanted to all along, but Roween has said I would just be in the way, and she may be right. But now," he hesitated, "Nevin, you know how to keep things confidential. I – I have just decided I need to talk to someone. Can I trust you?"

"Yes." Nevin had a sinking feeling. What had Chett either not told him, or not known?

"You see, Niki, well, you've never had a chance to know Niki, have you? He's a good lad really, but he's a cynic. Maybe it's his work. But he's been looking hard at who might benefit from this accident. Anyways –" Chelan made an effort to collect himself. Nevin needed a simple statement. "Niki thinks – oh dear – it's such a ridiculous term, like a holodrama. Niki thinks there's been industrial espionage, Mitra's design stolen, and then the reactor sabotaged to discredit Dellmaice Power Systems."

"And you, or Niki, want to go to Drezvir to see if Mitra has any information to support this theory?"

"Oh no!" Chelan was startled. "Niki has all the facts. We are meeting with the Interplanetary Judiciary in – oh – a little over an hour. What I don't want is Mitra to be alone. I mean, you're a man of the galaxy, Nevin. We are not talking about nice people here.

*****

Chapter 17

"No." Nevin was sure he was staring at his friend's gentle, innocent face. "We are not talking about nice people. I don't suppose you could tell me who they are?" He was thinking about Chett's continual cynicism over fraud, but he didn't think Chett had considered deliberate industrial sabotage. Or was that what Chett meant by hackers, and did he, or Dreen, have someone specific in mind?

"I don't really think I can, Nevin. Niki says only the Interplanetary Judiciary should know. We aren't even telling Roween." He sighed. "I hate that, but," he looked at Nevin, "I should be used to deceiving her by now, shouldn't I?"

Roween simply did not like Gingezel. She did not like the idea of a planet dedicated exclusively to pleasure. She did not like the idea it was run by an unknown consortium. Mostly though she did not like the idea that there were vast sums of money being spent there that could have gone into useful scientific research. She was so adamant he didn't dare even bring up the planet, much less tell her he was the one designing the historical cities all those tourists loved. She thought the simulations he was doing were just a new academic interest. What would she say if she knew Nevin was part of the consortium and they chatted about how the planet was doing a couple times a month, sometimes every few days? Chelan cringed at the thought.

"You're tired, Chelan. Don't start worrying about everything at once. You know I've said I'll talk to Roween anytime you want, personally take her to Gingezel, show her around, whatever it takes to get her comfortable."

There was a ghost of a smile. "And put a fast end to the most fun I've had in decades?" Nothing Nevin could do would make her comfortable. "No." Chelan sighed again. "I don't think the problem is that I'm tired. I just feel impotent. Here's my daughter in real trouble, and what have I done? Nothing. A big fat zero. I haven't even been able to get her a lawyer." Now that he was talking, Chelan found he couldn't stop. "She's afraid you see, that Dellmaice Power might, well – oh dear – is this slanderous?"

"I don't intend to gossip, Chelan. This is a quiet talk between old friends."

"Well ..." Chelan gave in to temptation. "She's afraid she's a scapegoat. She wanted us to get a good lawyer for her, and our family lawyer said the only really useful firm for litigation with the Farr Sector was Juttar Kommur's firm, but our lawyer is a slow, cautious man. Prepared his briefs and whatever lawyers do before they talk to each other. Then this Kommur chap wouldn't talk to us! They are totally booked we were told. I've been worried sick since, but we can't seem to agree on anyone else, and time is passing."

"Chelan," Nevin said carefully, "did Juttar Kommur specifically say he wouldn't take Mitra?"

"No. The whoever – my lawyer never got through to Kommur himself – said they weren't taking any new clients. I don't think Mitra was mentioned."

"Oh, Chelan, I am sorry." Nevin rubbed the tired lines on his forehead. "I haven't called you because, well, you didn't need the intrusion. But more than that, I was afraid of saying too much or too little. But I see now I should have called. I could have saved you that worry anyway. You see," he clarified since Chelan looked totally bewildered, "Juttar's firm isn't taking new clients because they are totally booked to handle Mitra and Dreen's problems. If you'd mentioned Mitra, I'm sure they would have said so. But I don't think anyone even thought her family would try to contact them. The firm is rather expensive for most individuals, you know. And this could be a long case."

"Yes," Chelan agreed with the part he understood. "Our lawyer gave us an estimate. We couldn't afford more than their being consultants, not their being the main defenders. But we could manage that between Niki and me. After all," there was another ghost of a smile, "I'm not without resources now, thanks to you. And Niki has always been clever with money."

Then what Nevin said got through to him. Chelan blinked, put his spoon down with a plop in the half empty bowl, and asked rather sharply, "Nevin, did you say Juttar Kommur is booked to defend Mitra?"

"Actually," Nevin said almost apologetically, "the whole firm is retained, not just Juttar. That would be why they wouldn't even talk to you about taking on a new client."

Chelan was quite sure his mind did not want to absorb that. He would treat this like a historical puzzle, one tiny piece at a time. "But Nevin, I know Dellmaice Power isn't using them. Our lawyer has been in contact with them. And I'm reasonably sure Mitra hasn't done anything on her own. Early on she asked Roween and me to handle the legal side, and lately when we talk to her, which isn't often with their hyperweb limitations I'll admit, she's all focussed on the technical issues. But even so, she hasn't that kind of money."

"No, Mitra hasn't retained them. Dreen, or more accurately, Chett and Joran have," Nevin said with a hint of apology again. "It's Joran who insisted Juttar tie up all his people. Joran does tend to overreact at times. Dreen is more balanced."

Ah, the repeated name in multiple references. That was the historian's clue that person was important. "And who is this Dreen you've mentioned at least twice, and the Joran you just mentioned three times?"

"Mitra hasn't mentioned Dreen?" Nevin was feeling his way cautiously.

"Mitra hasn't mentioned a thing but core maps, sensor conditions post accident, tomographic scans, and that sort of stuff. Why?"

"Well, Dreen is the reason I've hesitated to call, for fear of saying something I shouldn't. But I think we're past that stage. Dreen hopes to be your future son-in-law, if he and Mitra survive this mess that is."

Chelan took that relatively in stride. "I'm sure that's very nice for them Nevin, but I'll repeat myself. Who is he?"

"Dreen Pendi. You remember Oren and Gemma Pendi?"

Chelan nodded. Those had been good times in their younger days, the kind of days you remember.

"Well, he's their son. He's also head of Nemizcan Computing. And Nemizcan did the operator interfaces for the Drezvir reactor."

Chelan nodded. This was starting to make sense. He listened to every news item about Drezvir he could find, so of course he had heard about the Nemizcan Computing involvement in Drezvir. Chelan had even heard the name Dr. Pendi, and the fact he had stepped down as head of the company. But he had never associated with him Oren and Gemma. The galaxy was so big you just didn't look for personal connections on the news.

"It's rather starting to look like the accident was a mistake on his or Mitra's part. Only," Nevin corrected himself, "you say not?"

"That is Niki's evidence," Chelan said, his mind on this Dreen news. "Now that you gave Dreen a last name, I remember the newscast saying Nemizcan Computing was implicated, and I thought it rather queer. I mean a reactor isn't an office system, and office systems are their specialty."

"I sincerely doubt Dreen will ever make that mistake again," Nevin agreed dryly.

"And you say he's engaged to Mitra?"

"Not engaged, hoping to be. That's why I've hesitated to call. That sort of thing is delicate enough without the kind of problems they are going through."

Chelan nodded.

Nevin asked, "Mitra never said anything?"

"No, but she wouldn't." She had been very secretive about her personal life since Mark, and the fights with Roween. The poor child, given the trouble between her and Mark over a simple design problem, what about now with Dreen? No. He corrected himself. This was taking some perseverance to get used to. Those problems were because Mark was not a nice man, not because of work. And what was Dreen Pendi like?

"Nevin, what's Dreen like? All I remember is a little black-haired toddler who climbed on my lap when I told stories to Niki. I always used to think he was too young to follow me, then all of a sudden he would be asking 'how come' this, and 'how come' that. He'd focus on the most unusual things."

Nevin smiled. "Well, to start with, he's now grayer than either of us – it runs in the family. And as to what he's like, the fastest answer is he's Oren all over again. Capable, determined to the point of stubbornness, the same gift of getting people on line to back him. But there's a bit of Gemma too."

Chelan nodded, satisfied. He had liked the Oren and Gemma even if they hadn't stayed in touch.

Nevin hesitated. He didn't want to talk about the trouble Dreen tried so hard to hide, and Dreen and Mitra were adults. Still, he and Chelan were two fathers talking, and if it was his daughter, he would want to know. He said, "You should know, there was a little spot of trouble with Dreen at university. He got caught hacking and did military service to pay for it."

Chelan shook his head. "He's as bad as Niki. What is it with young men and computers?"

"Niki was a hacker?"

"Not that. He turned out to be more of a mathematician than Roween or I imagined. He came up with this complicated chaos theory model that would let him cause large run-ups in a market with minimal investments. Rather like the agricultural markets now, but it's not him this time." Chelan collected himself. "Anyway, to make a long story short, the regulatory board was not happy and he got his license pulled for a while. I think he was really hurt. He was sure he was being clever, not criminal." And talking of Niki reminded him that he was getting closer and closer to when he should leave.

Chelan said, "Well, thanks Nevin for telling me both about Dreen and the lawyers." He added, mildly aggrieved, "Mitra could have told us about the lawyers and saved us all a lot of worry."

"I don't think she knows. When Chett saw her –"

"And who is Chett – just a fast answer please." It was another repeat of a name.

"Chett Linderson, Dreen's former Vice President of Field Operations. He's now running Nemizcan while Dreen is on Drezvir. Anyway, when Chett saw Mitra right after the accident she was very worried about her legal position, but by the time Dreen got to Drezvir, she wouldn't even talk about it. Juttar suggested not worrying her, that talking to her could wait until closer to a trial date."

"So Dreen is or was an Drezvir?"

"Is. Apparently Chett thought that was his responsibility, but Dreen wanted to be with Mitra. So they traded off."

Dreen sounded like a much nicer man than Mark. And Chelan was glad Mitra had someone with her. He knew C.C. was there, but for some reason that was beyond him they had drifted apart as adults, after being so close as children. Then too, terraformers didn't exactly stay put. He thought for a minute. Did the fact this Dreen was there change the fact he wanted to go? No, he decided, it didn't. It might if he knew him well, but he didn't.

He said firmly, "Now Nevin, I do have the meeting with the Interplanetary Judiciary coming up, and I do need a Genie."

Nevin smiled. "Will the Allegro do?"

Chelan's eyes widened "Are you serious? It isn't an urban legend?" The legend was that some Genie that could outfly anything on the racing circuit had been built, and that was why Jon Melcrist, Rhea Enlis, and Arn Torson had quit the racing circuit.

"Oh, the Allegro is real enough, and Jon Melcrist really does fly it. It belongs to Joran, and I'm sure he'll be glad to make the loan."

Another repeat name. "And who is Joran? I asked a moment ago."

"Joran Lantonnel," Nevin said, then frowned at Chelan's totally blank look. "Chelan, surely you remember Joran? You must have worked with him designing Crescent Bay. He owns most of the land in that area."

"No." Chelan was firm. "I worked with a lovely young woman – her name escapes me, but she was killed in a tragic accident. Jorgus took over after that."

"Oh. Well, Maillie was Joran's wife."

Chelan vaguely remembered her apologizing at intervals for a husband who was too busy to even be present by holoconference. He nodded.

"Now," Nevin said, "just one thing before we call Joran. Did you see the Anton concert?"

Really, this was no time for social chat, even if Nevin was as fanatical a fan as Roween! Hoping to end this one fast, Chelan said, "Certainly not! I can't stand the man and his antics. Roween watched some of it, but I went to bed and got some sleep."

"And Roween?" Nevin persisted.

"She said there was a lot of fooling around and it wasn't up to his usual standards."

So they hadn't made the connection. "Chelan, I really think before we call Joran you have to listen to one song in the concert."

"Why?" Desperation made Chelan blunt.

"Because Joran is Anton." He had to spell that out or Chelan would never get it. "He's Dreen's best friend, and he went out of his way to make a first-class exhibition to the entire galaxy of the fact he's madly in love with your daughter. I think," Nevin concluded mildly, "if you don't watch this you'll accidentally put both feet in your mouth."

"Oh, dear." Chelan subsided.

***

Chelan sipped his coffee. The performance was much better than he would have expected from Anton. There were no mask-like faces, no jumpsuits, no jumping around. The man just sang, and it really was a beautiful love song and beautifully performed, with intense and honest emotion. Unfortunately, the fact it was dedicated to Mitra did slightly impair his enjoyment.

Once the song was finished and Joran walked offstage, Chelan returned his focus to Nevin. "And you say Anton – Joran – is Dreen's best friend?"

"Yes."

"And Dreen and Mitra aren't engaged, he just hopes to be?"

"That's right."

Chelan sighed. In a tone as close as he had ever come to parental disapproval of his darling daughter he said, "It would appear that my little girl had herself a quite vacation."

***

They did not get this Joran chap. Chelan sat, nervous, as the call was transferred.

"Oh, Bojo. Is Joran up to his old tricks and not answering calls after a concert?"

Chelan looked with some interest at the young blond man with an unfortunate deformity. He just nodded.

"Look, Bojo, we need to talk to him now, and borrow the Allegro. Some complications have come up on Drezvir and not wanting to sound melodramatic, they put Mitra at physical risk. Her father feels he has to be there ASAP."

"Hell! And he's hung around up north after the concert and I'm back in Crescent Bay." Bojo restrained himself from some creative profanity. "Look, it will take about five minutes, because as you guessed, Joran is back to not taking calls. He took a couple from the lawyers from Johnny Sun's label, but then he and Johnny started planning the album. Now he has a new song in his head. If I was in the same city, I would just go get him, but as it is I'll have round up one of the Anton go-fers to go up to Joran's apartment, let himself in, and disturb him."

"Fine, we'll wait."

Bojo disconnected.

Assuming it was a personal secretary of some sort Chelan said, "That seems like a pleasant, competent young man."

Nevin was amused, given Chelan's obvious aversion to the Anton Band. "He should be. He's the number two man in AntonCorp. He's also Mrail"

Chelan's eyes widened slightly, trying to reconcile the nice young man in the worn out T-shirt with the demon face and black jumpsuit on stage. "Most interesting," he said. He'd never known any celebrities, and he'd never really thought of them in his historical research. Had that been a mistake? Did they influence history? He would have to consider that, but right now perhaps he should reassure Nevin that he was making progress on the next city, even if he was slower than usual.

***

It was closer to ten minutes before Joran called back. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I didn't know how long this would take, so I called Jon and told him to round up the crew, and get their collective asses to the spaceport. Then I called the spaceport to get them to fast-track preparing the Allegro. It is Plenata you're on?" he asked the rather shabby looking little man who was apparently Mitra's father. "I figured I could fine tune who exactly they were picking up and where after I'd talked to you."

It would appear he had his Genie. Chelan said, "Yes, it's Plenata. And thank you very much." He hesitated. "What am I supposed to call you anyway?" This man, not exactly young, but not what Chelan considered middle-aged either, was unlike either of the Antons Chelan had seen. His T-shirt was a match for Bojo's in the worn-out category, his hair could stand combing, and if he looked anything, it was really concerned.

***

Joran stared at the space now devoid of images, a slight smile on his lips. Mitra's father was quite the old lad, not half as wooly as he acted if he was designing the historical cities. Should he kick himself for not figuring out the Professor Kael Maillie had thought was so sweet was a relative of Mitra, her dad? Why bother. They'd found Mitra ages ago and today there wasn't just good news but really good news. Neither Mitra or Dreen had screwed up. He pulled one leg up on his chair, wrapping his arm around his knee. He really should call Dreen and tell him what was up, but ... Joran chewed his lip. They had agreed that Chelan would call him back after his meeting with the Judiciary to firm up plans. If he called Dreen, then the old lad called, then he finished confirming the plans with Jon, he could throw his song out the window. It would be gone. But if he worked fast, he could at least capture the essence before Chelan called. And then too, Joran rationalized, he'd have something more definitive to tell Dreen. He got up and headed for his keyboard.

*****

Chapter 18

Dreen watched as C.C. went over to where a cluster of people were watching the last assembly being tested. He talked to Mitra, and a minute or so later, he left alone. About five minutes after that Dreen tried his own luck.

"Are you going to be able to break for lunch?" Dreen had to raise his voice over the shriek of the metal sheath being cut.

Mitra shook her head, eyes on the testing, hands deep in her coat pockets. "The test will be done in an hour, maybe less. We'll scrounge something then. I think I still have space glop in my room."

"If you don't, I do. Do you want me to wait for you?" Dreen was watching her face, the intentness, the stillness.

"No, get something hot." Mitra was tired, but she turned and tried to smile up at him. She just wanted this testing over. If they kept at it maybe the testing for this last assembly could be finished today. Then it would all be done and she could just tell Azlo she screwed up. "Supper maybe? Your room?" She would need comforting then, someone to hold her after she talked to Azlo.

"That would be nice." Dreen might have said more, but Mitra had already refocused on the test. He touched Azlo's arm. "May I have a brief word?"

Azlo hesitated, but Dreen would not be interrupting with something minor. He nodded, and by mutual consent they walked to the noisiest spot in the shed, the one that had become the conference area.

As succinctly as possible, Dreen told him both what the hackers had done, and what evidence would have been left since the computer powered down before anyone could get back in and clean up. Brys and Vennbir were relatively confident that even with time all traces couldn't be erased, but Dreen wasn't sure he believed that.

Azlo looked at Dreen for a long moment, his face shocked out of its urbane blandness for once. "You know what you're saying." His intelligent brown eyes searched Dreen's face.

"Yes." Dreen met those searching eyes.

"You can't have had your hackers looking for this kind of thing randomly. Do you want to tell me why you suspect sabotage?"

Dreen hesitated. He knew perfectly well why he suspected sabotage, but he didn't know for sure if it had occurred. He would not put Leeth and C.C. through the nightmare of proving innocence unless Tranngol's team came up with something. Slowly he looked away and shook his head.

"Sorry."

Azlo studied him a bit longer. Something was obviously going on, but what? In his long career he had only dealt with two sabotage cases before, and in both the finger pointing had been immediate. "Well, you no doubt have your reasons. I'll push for a name if checking out your idea finds anything."

***

Dreen had already finished his bean sprout and nuts salad when C.C. and the terraformers came trooping in for lunch. He stopped eating to watch, trying to decide which one would be Leeth Kembel based on Milton Trave having pointed out one man as having a prison record, and his own memories from the trial. There weren't likely to be two with a prison record on the crew. It was impossible to be sure though. His memory of Leeth Kembel was of a scared young man with brown hair and a pale face. The man Milton had pointed out was sunburnt, and tough looking with a muscular physique and lined face. All that was similar was brown hair and the general build. If this was Leeth Kembel, life had obviously been hard on him.

Dreen watched him start down the selection of food, honestly still not sure if this was the man, and if it was, what he should do. Should he wait until Azlo had done tests – or might Brys and Vennbir be wrong, and the hacker have been able to cover his or her tracks? Should he confront the man and see how reacted? If he didn't, was he making a mistake, like he had with Mitra and C.C., being too passive.

Squaring his shoulders and jaw slightly, Dreen rose and headed to where Leeth was approaching the cashier. What did he say? 'Are you the man I sent to jail years ago' did not seem an auspicious conversation opener, but if he was stuck, he'd use it.

"Leeth Kembel?"

Leeth started at the voice. He turned, then his face darkened and his eyes hardened. "Pendi. What the hell do you want with me?"

Well, he had his answer. This was the man. Dreen said, "I'd like to talk to you for moment."

"And I wouldn't like to talk to you." Leeth started towards the terraformers' usual table.

Dreen took a step to stand in front of him. "Are you up to your old tricks, Leeth?" he asked grimly.

Leeth froze. He can't possibly trace a thing I've done back to me, he reminded himself.

"Leeth!" C.C. called impatiently from the table. "We're waiting." They needed to talk out the next stage in the simulation he and Leeth were doing on particulate dispersion.

Shit. "I'll join you in a minute," Leeth called back. Then to Dreen, "Pendi, we're blocking traffic. Let's go over there." Leeth pointed to a group of empty tables.

Dreen nodded. It was as likely to be an unmonitored area as he'd get, short of his rooms, and he had no intentions of being alone with this man. He followed as Leeth led the way to a table and carefully put down his chipped gray tray, then sat. Dreen joined him, folding his empty hands on the table, not sure how to start.

"All right, Pendi, just exactly what do you mean?"

Dreen hesitated. Except for that one minute when he froze, the man had acted naturally enough. Unfriendly, not wanting anything to do with him to be sure, but wasn't that natural? And did that moment of shock mean a thing, or was it just that, shock at the unexpected confrontation? All he had were suppositions. Logical argument after logical argument piled on each other in the middle of the night. Hadn't he already caused this man enough grief? Look at him. Life had definitely not been easy on Leeth Kembel. Dreen couldn't find his tongue.

"You're wasting my time." Leeth started to rise.

"No. Hear me out." Dreen thought of Mitra, and of the problems neither of them could find. Of the trial that would happen next if there had not been a hack. Right or wrong, he had to make his accusation and watch Leeth for any reaction. It was like the trial though. He couldn't stare Leeth in the face.

"I've been looking and looking for a computing problem that could have caused the overpower, Leeth." Dreen's voice was hard, stressed, cold. "Then the other day, someone put it in my mind it could have been a hacker. But it didn't make sense. Why would one of the miners kill off a bunch of friends, and put themselves at risk of freezing over the winter?

"Then I thought about who besides the miners could care one way or the other about this project, and I came up with your boss. C.C. has a record of being strongly opposed to the transportation of biohazards." Dreen was covertly watching Leeth while he seemed to be talking to the hands he had folded on the table. "That's what they were doing in the mine, wasn't it, a trial run with empty plugs to fuse into the wall." He would not mention that his team thought they knew what the hacker had done too, exactly how the hack was done.

Leeth was openly staring at Dreen in horror. He could feel icy sweat starting to form on his back. He thinks I hacked the reactor? How could Pendi have decided that?

"C.C. doesn't exactly like Dellmaice Power either, does he?" Dreen continued. "News of this accident has pretty well killed the Plenata project and he's been trying to do that one in for years. But he couldn't do this himself, Leeth. He'd need someone good, very good." Dreen looked up at last. "Someone like you. And there would be a bonus, wouldn't there, if you could pin it on me."

"You're insane!"

"Am I?" The man's fear was palpable. Dreen could feel it, smell it.

"Yes, you are." Leeth was angry now, furious. "What's the matter Pendi? Are you finally in a situation you can't buy your way out of? Well, you can just find out what it's like to have no one but yourself for once. Don't drag me into your mess!"

Dreen wavered, and Leeth saw it. It was just a paper tiger then, a lot of supposition. He rose. "You can't prove a damned thing Pendi. You're just talking."

Dreen rose too. "Don't bet on it. I've got a damned good team of hackers trying to reproduce what you could have done."

"Nice try, Pendi." With extreme care Leeth picked up his meal and walked off.

There had been a definite change in the man at the end as he walked away, Dreen decided. Bravado? Or was Leeth convinced there was nothing to find?

***

Leeth walked over to the table where the terraformers were eating and making their usual ruckus. He carefully placed his tray on the table at the space C.C. had saved but didn't sit down.

"What was that about?" C.C. asked, concerned, wondering what Mitra had said to Dreen about Leeth. She'd been hysterical. He should have insisted on going back with her.

"Nothing," Leeth replied. "I'm not hungry, so I'm going to go see the chickens. If anyone wants this they can have it." Not that they were likely too. The terraformers did nothing but criticize the Drezvir food, and unfairly in Leeth's opinion. It was simple, nutritious food and well prepared, a lot better than he'd grown up with, to say nothing of prison food. And now that there was a shortage it shouldn't be wasted. He gave it a moment. When no one moved to take anything on the tray, he said to C.C., "Give it to Ginny and Tessa." He knew that families only got a basic meal each as a benefit. Extra servings had to be paid for and the girls were at the growing fast stage and had to be hungry.

"Are you all right?" C.C. was alarmed now. Leeth hadn't eaten in advance like the rest of them, and the tray held a full meal.

"I'm fine." Unless he had to stop in a toilet along the way and be sick. His stomach was heaving.

***

C.C. gave Leeth fifteen minutes to get whatever his problem was sorted out in private. Then he headed for the habitat they were using as the chicken coop, their first project on Drezvir, introducing a protein for the miners and manure for the too sterile environment. He found Leeth in the third room he checked. He was just sitting there, squatted on his haunches, back pressed to the wall. He had a bucket of food pellets in front of him and had scattered a few on the floor. A cluster of eight ugly half-grown chickens were pecking at them, and they seemed to totally occupy Leeth's attention.

C.C. walked over and squatted down too. "What's wrong, Leeth?"

"Like I said. Nothing."

"And I'm the Easter Bunny. Try again."

Leeth had no idea what the Easter Bunny was. C.C. was always talking weird stuff, but he got the message. C.C. wasn't buying.

Leeth returned his gaze to the chickens. "Pendi told me he intends to try to pin the reactor accident here on me," he said in a flat tone.

"He what?" C.C. stared.

"The bastard's stuck, that's all. The options are narrowing down fast and Pendi sure as hell isn't the type to take a fall. He's proven that already. So he's grabbing at straws. He's going to try to prove a hacker got at the system." Leeth tossed a few more pellets on the ground. He was pleased that there was no visible tremor in his hand.

"But that's ridiculous. Why would he imagine you would want to sabotage a Dellmaice reactor?"

"Not me," Leeth said in the same flat tone. "You." Then with real pain in his voice, "I'm so sorry C.C." Sitting there, staring at the chickens, he repeated Dreen's arguments.

"I see," C.C. said slowly. He could see why Leeth hadn't touched his food. He wished now he hadn't eaten. The smell of the chicken coop was suddenly nauseating. "Or, at least I see the arguments he's using, and how they look. But what I don't see is why he told you."

"To watch me squirm," Leeth said bitterly. "There are people who are like that. It isn't good enough to just get away with something. They have to see the other guy get hurt."

"Yes." There were people like that. C.C. tried to reconcile this with the little he knew about Dreen Pendi, but really all he knew was from Joran and Mitra. Mitra. Boy, could she pick them. He remembered hearing about the real bastard she got tied up with at Dellmaice Power. But if Leeth was right, this was worse. Oh Mitra!

Oh Mitra? Get your priorities straight, C.C. told himself, but his brain was having trouble accepting the arguments Dreen had pieced together. Just how had he managed that exercise in creative thinking? C.C. stared unseeing at the chickens. At last he roused himself. Wondering how was futile. Just accept the fact. He looked sideways at Leeth's impassive profile, wondering how to choose his words.

"Leeth, just how good a hacker is Dreen? Is he capable of finding – or for that matter fabricating – evidence that a hacker got at the system?"

"Completely. He's the best."

C.C. slumped against the wall swallowing down nausea. "Want company watching the chickens grow?"

*****

Chapter 19

"And Collan Rydler's firm will provide independent substantiation of this analysis?" Ceb asked.

Chelan was watching his old friend more than he was listening. It must have been - oh dear - a decade or so since he'd seen Ceb in his Judiciary office. He didn't like the office so he avoided it. It was so impersonal, cold, and rather intimidating in the way bureaucratic offices could be. Time slipping like that distressed Chelan. Even more distressing though was the fact the office suited Ceb. Chelan had always thought Ceb would be something exciting, maybe a trial lawyer like that Juttar Kommur they hadn't got. No, had got. Oh dear. He was having to rearrange too many thoughts all at once. Chelan refocussed on Ceb and realized with resentment that his light blond hair had gone dark sand. Surely it had no right to do that just because he wasn't paying attention. Of course he saw Ceb, often daily, but he never really looked. And Ceb's face was too grave, too serious. Although that might be because they were talking about Mitra. Ceb had always wanted another child, a girl, but it hadn't happened.

Niki let himself breathe. Ceb was going to take his concerns seriously then. "Yes sir." Niki reached into his belt pouch and produced a memory pac. "I don't know what this says, but Collan said he came to the same conclusion I did. The details are all here. The pac was sealed before I got there and it has the security seals both of the firm and Collan personally."

Ceb might be a neighbor and Uncle Ceb at home, but this wasn't home. This was a very formal Interplanetary Judiciary office and Niki wasn't about to make any mistakes using familiarity.

"Thank you." Ceb accepted the memory pac, placing it on the desk in front of him. He would examine it later but he didn't doubt the contents. "What you are suggesting, Niki, has rather alarming implications."

Ceb had reached the same conclusion Niki had. This accident was a little too convenient for the startup Farolavo Power. And Farolavo Power had tried way too hard to hide Durstin Fallor and Olan Rostin's involvement. The accident might be a fortunate coincidence for them. Coincidences did happen, and they would be fools to not capitalize on one. And hiding Olan Rostin and Durstin Fallor's involvement might simply be a delaying tactic to avoid going head to head with Dellmaice Power too soon, and most likely going head to head in court, Ceb thought dryly. It sounded like the design they were marketing was slightly derivative at best, and an outright copy with minor modifications more likely.

But it was more probable the accident was simple industrial sabotage with Mitra intended to take the blame. And if so, would someone who had already caused two deaths and jeopardized the colony in his care hesitate at a third death? A suicide from remorse on Mitra or Dreen's part would provide a very satisfactory ending to the case. Ceb was concerned, but less concerned, about the other two Outsiders still there, Tina Kern and Milton Trave. They looked likely to be cleared in testing. But Niki's briefing, and the worries Chelan had confided since the accident analysis began, made it plain neither Mitra or Dreen could prove innocence. And how many ways could a planet manager fake a suicide?

Ceb frowned. "You say the analysis is almost over, Niki?"

"Yes sir. I think they will be finished today, maybe tomorrow."

"Then it would not be prudent to delay. If the analysis was still in early stages there could be time for diplomacy." Ceb made a grimace. "And diplomacy is a problem here. If we weren't talking about the Farr Sector, the situation would be relatively straightforward. I could call my counterpart and they would arrange for protective custody for Mitra and Dreen until the analysis was over and any involvement in the accident by Olan Rostin or Durstin Fallor had been investigated.

"The Farr Sector changes all that. I don't have a counterpart there. Also, the role of the Interplanetary Judiciary in cases like this where non-Farrese citizens are involved has been made rather clear by the Farrese. We don't have a role." Ceb sighed. "And as if that wasn't enough, there is currently a power struggle between the Farrese Judiciary and the Farr Sector Mining Guild." Ceb stared meditatively at the wall. "Although that power struggle may be the only point in our favor, an excuse to intervene." There was a long pause then Ceb said, "If you'll forgive me, I think I have to do some consulting on this one. I'll have tea brought to you."

***

The wait only seemed interminable. Their tea was still steaming in the fine porcelain cups when Ceb returned, now brisk and businesslike.

"Chelan." Ceb rewarded his old friend with a smile. "For once you are going to see me do something other than desk work. If there is a problem with Olan Rostin, there is simply too much danger involved in transmitting the documents to the Farrese Judiciary representative on Drezvir. If Rostin wasn't the planet manager..." Ceb shrugged. "But he is. And sending them to the Farrese Judiciary headquarters on Estoff has the potential for the documents to take root on someone's desk." Actually, it was a certainty. They would not appreciate interference. "So, since the documents are in my hands and I've been following the case, I'll take them."

There were a number of other reasons why Ceb was going, but he sincerely hoped the fact he was an old friend would suffice and he wouldn't have to make explanations. As a senior member of the Interplanetary Judiciary he did not go chasing across the galaxy for two individuals, as much as he might care for one of them. If he did, he would have been on Ennup 10 a week ago.

The main reason for going was the potential for a major diplomatic incident. If the principals in Farolavo Power were guilty of nothing more than the dubious business actions they, the Mining Guild, and the Farr Sector Judiciary were all going to be rightly furious. By now Ceb had the experience and seniority to smooth that over as well as anyone could. The other reason he was the right person to go was that if Olan Rostin were guilty, he might well choose to eliminate an interfering Interplanetary Judiciary representative. The Mining Guild had fully armed militia and right about now they were looking for an excuse to use them. Again, Ceb had the experience, a totally different kind of experience, to handle the situation.

Ceb watched as Chelan beamed at him. Niki looked startled, confused, and then thoughtful. He kept his mouth shut though, to Ceb's relief, and Ceb continued before he could open it.

"My first act will be to put Mitra and Dreen in protective custody using a message that will have this Rostin thinking we are acting against them if he intercepts and opens it." Ceb allowed himself a wintry smile. "He'd better not be able to intercept it or our security is lousy, but we have no access to security and counter security developments in the Farr Sector so I don't know. I won't take chances. It will say evidence is being delivered. If he is guilty, he will just assume they are capable of law breaking too and were up to some sort of fraud, and we're helping the Farrese Judiciary to gain status with it.

"I'll send that message as soon as we're finished here. So that brings me to the problem of how to get there. An Interplanetary Judiciary spaceship is out of the question. It would be stopped at their borders and cause a galactic incident. And I understand from C.C. that Drezvir is worse than in the middle of nowhere.

"The question then becomes is it better to charter a yacht here on Plenata, or to go to one of the mid-route space stations and pick up something faster there. Plenata is pleasant, but not exactly a commercial center. The yachts I've chartered here haven't been great." He gave another small smile. "Pity one can't just have a Genie pop out of the bottle, but there you are. The local commercial lines would never get cost recovery on one of those." Ceb stared off into space assessing the options. By now he was much, much too familiar with interstellar travel.

Chelan picked up the fine porcelain teacup and admired first the gold geometric pattern and then its transparency. "Actually Ceb, I've been looking into that," he said mildly.

Ceb came back out of his mental review of space stations and the likely private charters available. "Have you now?" He knew that innocent tone of voice. "And?" he prompted into the silence.

"Well," Chelan said vaguely, "I talked to a friend, and he put me in touch with a very nice young man. He's offered me the use of his yacht and pilots. It's a Genie and I understand from him it's a very nice one."

"Indeed." Ceb was only mildly surprised. Chelan made the most remarkable friends. "Pity the new friend of yours doesn't own a racer level Genie and have racing pilots too, but then they can't use racer Genies for passengers anyways." He winked. He knew perfectly well that the rule was broken occasionally, but not often. The racer class Genie was damned uncomfortable.

"Oh." Chelan looked confused. "But I thought it was a racer, or at least very very fast." He was starting to dither. "He talked that way, and I did think, I mean I don't watch Genie racing, but I did think the pilot - oh dear -"

"Chelan ..." Ceb looked at his old friend suspiciously. "Are we talking about the Allegro with Jon Melcrist as pilot?"

Chelan beamed at him. "How you remember all these names amazes me. Yes, that's quite right."

"And then your new friend would be Anton?" Even for Chelan that was remarkable.

Chelan thought about the garishly made up figure on Roween's album covers and the one concert she had made him attend. "Actually, yes," he admitted reluctantly. "Only when I talked to him just now he seemed just a nice young black man, about Niki's age." Chelan smiled. "He was wearing the most worn out T-shirt I've ever seen, and said he had been busy composing." Chelan sighed with mild envy. It would be nice to be in T-shirt weather. His face still hurt where he'd frozen it. "He said his real name is something like Loren, or Narron, or -"

"Try Joran," Ceb said dryly.

"That's right!" Chelan said as if that settled the issue.

Ceb looked about to ask a question, but Niki got his in first. "What did you get yourself into this time, Dad? I mean, I do watch Genie racing so I know exactly who Jon Melcrist is, but the Allegro? Is it real?" he asked, echoing Chelan's earlier question to Nevin.

Chelan looked at Ceb for the answer. Ceb had that slightly vacant look he did when he was organizing his facts so Niki waited patiently.

"Yes, the Allegro..." Ceb spoke to the wall across from him. "The Allegro was purchased as a top of the line Genie 310C by AntonCorp. That class is the fastest non-racer. It was licensed for business use by AntonCorp and as a pleasure craft for that corporation's principal, Joran Lantonnel." He gave a sideways look at Chelan who looked extremely pleased with himself. Niki was grinning broadly.

"The main pilot, as you said Chelan, is Jon Melcrist from the early Genie racing days. So far, so good. It's a bit peculiar that Jon suddenly quit racing." He shrugged. "But peculiar things happen. Especially when there is a lot of money, and Joran has a lot of money. It was more peculiar when Arn Torson, Rhea Enlis, and Eli Heron also quit racing and joined him.

"Since then the Allegro has undergone two system replacements that have been outlawed for a racing class Genie. The first was an overpowering of the propulsion system. It was made illegal in racing for the obvious reason that a lapse in judgement by the pilot in the heat of a race could be fatal, and in fact was in several cases before we outlawed the overpowered systems. As for the Allegro, since as far as we know no one has ever accused Jon, Arn, Rhea, or Eli of having judgment, the possibility of a lapse in judgment is perhaps a moot point." Ceb gave that little smile that accompanied his occasional forays into humor.

"The second modification was of more concern. Joran arranged for an entire redesign of the AI system that supports pilot operation of the Allegro by Voomoxa Robotics. In layman's terms, the pilots spent several weeks with specialists monitoring their every motion, expression, and eye movement to teach the AI system to anticipate their meaning. I shudder to think what the custom design and testing cost Joran, but it's his money. The resulting system speeds things up to where it is almost possible to just think commands. It's also damned dangerous!"

Niki looked up startled. Ceb never swore.

"It was never tried on the racing circuit. We got there first. We almost went after the Allegro, but we decided to leave them alone. As long as no one else repeats this stunt, it's the more cost-effective route." Ceb could imagine the Interplanetary Judiciary lawyers and Juttar Kommur arguing in court for years while Joran enjoyed the Allegro. "And no one will. There are joint patents between Jon and Joran and Mercan Oondo at Voomoxa on all modifications made to the AI system with the obvious intent of suppressing any other attempt.

"We now know why Jon, Arn, Rhea, and Eli are out of the racing circuit. Their being out of the circuit, especially Jon and Eli, is a blessing in itself. Jon and Joran are big boys, they know what they're doing and if they want to live dangerously so be it. So, Jon Melcrist is one happy pilot and Joran thinks he's thumbing his nose at us, something he delights in, so he's happy too."

"Oh dear! I'm afraid I have rather made a mess of things, haven't I this time?" Chelan asked, mortified.

"I don't know about that," Niki replied. "A ride in the Allegro!"

"But really, Ceb," Chelan ignored his son and plowed on, determined to try to make amends, "I can't ask you to ride in something unsafe like that. I'm sure we can find something else." Although he didn't know what. He was also unsure how Joran would take the addition of a member of the Judiciary to his passenger list if he and the Judiciary were at odds.

"And miss the chance of a lifetime?" There was nothing wintry about Ceb's smile this time.

Chelan recognized the conspiratorial gleam in Ceb's eyes. He knew it from when as lads they used to sneak away to do a little forbidden hot dogging on snowboards. He hadn't seen it for a while. That had worried him. He had never been comfortable with Ceb's career choice. The Interplanetary Judiciary might sound very powerful and important, but as far as Chelan could see what it amounted to was spending weeks on end trying to decide how to add three words to some sentence to make the meaning so clear that no matter how stupidly thickheaded or cleverly creative the myriad citizens of the galaxy were, they had absolutely no excuse for undertaking some particular piece of stupidity. In his mind it was about as exciting as working out the sewer system for one of his historical cities, but at least his work had fun parts to balance the drudgery, and moments of real excitement as well.

With real pleasure he returned the smile. "You rather make me wish I could come."

"So why don't you? There'd be room."

Chelan sighed. "I really intended to. That's what I told Joran I was doing. But Niki talked me into sending him instead. Besides, it isn't really a time I feel I could leave Roween."

Why was it he never felt it was the time to leave Roween? She had no trouble traipsing all over the galaxy without him. But that wasn't really the issue. It was just a polite excuse. He and Niki had talked over the idea of his going while driving to Ceb's office after Niki had picked him up at the hotel. Niki had asked rather bluntly how he would get away without explaining to Roween. He hadn't had a good answer, and telling Roween had the potential of disaster as far as Mark was concerned. Chelan accepted this, but it rankled.

"It's best that Niki is the one going," Chelan said more firmly, trying to convince himself. "In fact Ceb, that was why I got a Genie, not for you. Someone in the family should be with her if it's dangerous. I honestly never thought you'd go." He better come clean. "And I'm not sure what Joran will say about you coming."

"He won't say anything. From what I know of him, he'll laugh his head off." Ceb succumbed to curiosity. "By the way Chelan, how did you get it with this crowd?"

"Is this confidential?" Chelan asked, but he was looking at Niki who nodded. "Well, you see, my old friend Nevin..."

*****

Chapter 20

Trebur Auta, Farr Sector Judiciary representative seconded from their Environmental Protection Agency, looked at the message on his compad with a mix of incredulity, annoyance, and just the smallest beginnings of alarm. It told him to be prepared to take a Security Level 7 timed message in ten minutes. He knew what one was, of course. Any holodrama thriller addict did. That was what the hero got a couple minutes before the majority of the bad guys in the galaxy decided to annihilate him. He'd always thought that they were a made-up thing though.

That thought cheered him up a little. Maybe this one was too. It was exactly the sort of stunt the coffee crowd back at the EPA would decide was a really amusing way to scare the shit out of him. If so, he wondered who he'd end up talking to, or if they'd use text only. Trebur took one more look at the compad in his gloved hand before shoving it back in the pocket of his overstuffed EPA issue parka that made him look like a walking ball with a round face. Good thing he'd been listening to music with earphones or he would never have heard the call tone. Brent was making one hell of a racket cutting metal. He would have hated to spoil the fun back at the EPA.

And then again ... maybe it was legit. That brought the alarm back, full force this time. Trebur wondered what Security Level 7 meant. They always glossed over that part in the holodramas. Did it mean he had to have security clearance to Level 7 to read the message? If so, he didn't have it. He had Level 5, which meant that in the course of his work he could read isolated segments of top-secret documents as long as someone with a higher level of security, Level 6 or above, signed their life away saying it was their fault if he used, or even talked about having so much as seen, that information.

Or did it refer to some kind of fancy encapsulation that he probably didn't have the decryption software to handle? He rather liked the stuff the Farr Sector Judiciary had given him, and the fact it was Outsider software from SPYWORKS appealed to his sense of irony. But Trebur wasn't assuming the SPYWORKS software was all that great, or that the Mining Guild's wasn't as good, or better and couldn't break it. Rostin was hard to read on what he was doing about security, and Trebur was good at reading people. Whoever was sending this could think the same thing, that there was a risk and be using custom encryption.

Or did Level 7 mean the message was from someone with security clearance at Level 7? Who would possibly have that kind of clearance? And how did you 'prepare to receive' one? Holodrama heroes were usually hiding in the woods, surrounded by enough equipment that the location could not possibly be secret unless everyone in a hundred kilometer radius had been anesthetized for ten or twelve hours while the equipment was delivered. Otherwise the heroes were at a military command base, or flying a Genie on their own with enemy troops in hot pursuit.

He was standing in the middle of the accident analysis shed waiting to talk to Tranngol and Azlo about an assumption he couldn't understand in one of their codes that used fuzzy set theory to allow for expert opinion where data couldn't be collected in a meaningful way on a certain nano probe that Tranngol had used to investigate some of the plumbing mess in the reactor hall. Tranngol and Azlo however were busy watching the testing of the last instrumentation assembly. So he was watching too and listening to his favorite Let Us album, until they were free.

One thing was sure from the holodramas though, you couldn't take the message on a compad. There were always sophisticated biometric scans, and a favorite plot twist was to have the hero, or more likely the heroine, flunk the biometrics and immediately be killed by their until then trusting partner. That twist had always amused him. Until now. Anyway, the ten minutes to be prepared less the time he'd stood around here with a stupid look on his face just gave him time to get back to his office.

Trebur touched Azlo on the shoulder. "I have to take a call in my office."

"Right." Azlo didn't even turn around.

***

If the coffee crowd had mocked this up they'd outdone themselves, Trebur decided with appreciation. He watched as Interplanetary Judiciary seals appeared at last after extensive biometric identifications. There had also been a delay while he was told that a security scan of his computer was being done, and special software that would disappear was being installed, which he of course knew was not really happening. Then another series of seals appeared that Trebur had never seen and he was sure no one else at the EPA had seen either. His heart sank. This was real.

Focus time, Trebur told himself. If those holodramas were right you had to be a fast reader or listener. Pretend this is a friendly poker game that turned serious and the stake is six months salary.

Compared to the screen after screen of seals, the text message was short. "Interplanetary Judiciary representative en route. In interim immediately detain Dr. Mitra Kael and Dr. Dreen Pendi under house arrest. Interplanetary Judiciary status B5WR9. ETA 80 hours."

Trebur just had time to read that Judiciary status alphanumeric again when the message and presumably all records of it were gone. He checked. He couldn't find a trace of anything. So the holodramas had that much right anyway.

So what in the galaxy was that about? The little frown Trebur had when thinking hard crossed his plump bland face. First off, what was the Interplanetary Judiciary doing butting in? He supposed it must have something to do with Mitra and Dreen not being Farr Sector citizens. That could explain why an order to arrest them came from the Interplanetary Judiciary, not the Farr Sector Judiciary who had initiated it. All the same, he thought aggrievedly, if the Farr Sector had stuck him here with all the headaches of being the Farr Sector Judiciary representative, not just an analyst from the EPA overseeing the analysis, that same Farr Sector Judiciary could have at least warned him first. They might even have asked his opinion on moving to an arrest. It would have been simple. Don't do it.

Well, they hadn't asked, and he'd have to live with that. Trebur still didn't know the Farr Sector Judiciary well enough to know who to complain to. For sure he was not going to complain to his contact Cana Gregor. In fact knowing her, the arrest could be her idea. But if they weren't talking to him, damned if he was talking to them. If he could. Could you even talk about a Level 7 message to a different Judiciary? Trebur sincerely hoped the Interplanetary Judiciary had told the Farr Sector Judiciary about a B5WR9 status, whatever it was, because he wasn't going to tell them that either. This wasn't because he was pissed, it was because there was too much risk of interception.

So, what now? Suddenly aware that he was sweating, Trebur unzipped his parka, took off his cap, and sat there thinking. He was pretty sure the message had said immediate house arrest. Take that as a working hypothesis. What was the equivalent of house arrest in one of these habitats? They were all connected and flowed into each other. If he took a habitat to equal a house, Dreen and Mitra would continue doing exactly what they were. That was obviously not the intent of the message. So maybe he had better translate house arrest into confinement to their own apartments. It was only for eighty hours, so being in the one tiny room with a toilet on the side shouldn't be too bad. But what about food then? The cafeteria wouldn't deliver and he really did not want to have to ask his sergeant to carry trays. Well, Dreen and Mitra both seemed to have supplies of space rations, so he'd ask, and if there was enough they could eat those. Hell. This simply should not have happened.

Well, it did. Trebur pushed himself out of his chair and walked to the door.

"Sergeant!" The sergeant of the guards assigned to him was bound to be just outside the door. He seemed to consider it his job spec to just hover around not doing much. "Sergeant," Trebur repeated as the door opened. Trebur hated using that title, but the poor man drooped visibly if he was called anything else.

The man assigned to him was Max Giobo, a career military man in his late forties. He was solidly built with chestnut skin, dark hair, and an angular face. Trebur had tried calling him Max and being friendly, and had been thoroughly rebuffed. And somehow, every time he looked at the man's face he couldn't bring himself to say 'Hey, Giobo'. So, sergeant it was.

"You are to place Dr. Mitra Kael and Dr. Dreen Pendi under house arrest in their respective quarters." He presumed the sergeant had to be told about the alphanumeric code part. He could do something wrong otherwise. But if it was that secret, presumably Olan Rostin shouldn't be hearing it, although for the life of him Trebur couldn't figure out a reason for this cloak and dagger stuff. So even though he had turned his jamming device on when he entered the office, he leaned towards Max and whispered in his ear. "Interplanetary Judiciary status B5WR9." He backed away, looking at Max. "Do you know what that means?"

"Yes sir!" Max was positively beaming as he reached for his compad to summon additional guards. This had been the tamest, most boring assignment of his career. He'd been sure with Outsiders around it would be exciting, but there had been nothing to do except rub the miners' noses in the fact they weren't running the show. But a B5WR9! He'd never had one of those.

"Good." I'm glad one of us does, Trebur thought with his face at its impassive poker game best. At the look of pure delight on the other man's face, he felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Dreen and Mitra. He had tried to stay impartial and cynical. But while he couldn't be sure either of them hadn't caused the accident by a design fault, he was sure they were innocent of intent. This turn of events did not bode well for them.

Sergeant Giobo approached Dr. Auta. "Sir?" It was almost a whisper.

"Yes?"

"To maintain a B5WR9," he was now whispering in Auta's ear, "I'll need additional troops."

"I authorize the request," Trebur said, suddenly sick of this whole farce. Max could ship in as many troops as he wanted. "But you are on no account to mention the status requiring it."

"Thank you, sir!" Max all but saluted, and went to arrest Dreen and Mitra.

*****

Chapter 21

"Dreen!" Joran was in a singularly good mood. He had good news to give Dreen, the song was shaping up very nicely, and he liked Mitra's father and brother. He was also intensely amused that an Interplanetary Judiciary member, C.C.'s father no less, was hitching a ride on the Allegro with Niki. That could come in very handy the next time they went out of their way to spoil his fun.

"I just met your future father-in-law and brother-in-law. I really like the old lad. Acts a little wooly." Joran tapped his for head. "But he's kind of sweet."

"Don't count on the in-law." Dreen's voice was flat. He felt at the end of his tether and totally out of options.

He was arrested, very politely to be sure, but arrested. They'd even put thick metal sheathing on the room's one window, as if there was anywhere to escape to on Drezvir without an oxygen cylinder. He felt claustrophobic, in a cage, despite the scene of a grassy plain running on Joran's holoprojector. It had happened so suddenly too. One minute he was working at his desk in the analysis shed. The next he was between two armed guards. He had not been allowed to talk to anyone, but Dreen had seen Mitra about half the shed ahead of him, also between armed guards. There hadn't even been a chance to catch her eye, to try to give her some sort of false reassurance in a smile. Well, more realistically a nod. He was flat out of smiles. Then about ten minutes after he was in his room, Trebur Auta had come in and said he was confiscating those damned Anton albums everyone was so tired of and did he have enough to eat.

So Dreen had been sitting there on the hard kitchen chair, listening to M's album and thinking. Thinking he should call Juttar. Thinking he should call Joran. Thinking he should call Chett. But before he placed any calls Dreen wanted two things clear in his mind since it all would be recorded for his trial. Could he bring himself to voice his suspicions of Leeth? Or was it time to say he'd screwed up, not told Mitra, and then he'd tried to hide it? But his mind was so numb it wouldn't even go around in circles. It flatly refused to budge.

"Oh oh!" Joran's eyebrows rose. "You two fighting? Don't let it get you down," he said consolingly. "You're both stressed out."

"It isn't that, someone from her past has resurfaced. She's decided she prefers him." Dreen couldn't remember if he had mentioned C.C. to Joran or just to Chett. It was too hard to bother to think. "C.C. Windegren. I may have mentioned him, I don't know."

"C.C.? You mentioned him. Are you still playing dead? I told you not to!"

"Did you?" That nudged at a memory, but not enough to make it surface. "Well I haven't played dead. But she left with C.C. at the concert and didn't come back that night." Even saying that didn't seem to make the effort of being upset worthwhile. But it did remind him he needed to know about C.C. as a hacker. Maybe Joran knew something. "How well do you know him anyways?"

"C.C. did a lot of the work on Gingezel, especially on my property near Crescent Bay. When Maillie was alive we had him at the house the odd weekend. Weren't you ever there when he was?"

Dreen shook his head.

Joran's face clouded. "In fact, he was around for the last weekend she and I were together."

"I'm sorry." Dreen made a helpless gesture.

"Don't be. I've got to learn to talk about her death, and actually all the memories of that weekend are good. We all laughed a lot, and did silly fun things. C.C. really knows how to enjoy himself." Then defensively at Dreen's expression, "Well what do you want me to do? Lie? He's a nice guy."

"I know." Dreen was totally flat. He was starting to remember going down this road with Joran earlier. It didn't lead anywhere.

"And you're rolling over and playing dead!" Joran repeated with disgust.

Dreen found he had some energy after all, enough to be angry. "Sure, and what am I supposed to do? Go ask the guard to let me go talk to her? Make a recorded call, which by the way you can assume this is? They arrested us so fast we didn't even have a chance to say a word to each other."

"Arrested you?" Even while that shock was sinking in, the fact Dreen was not playing one of the altered albums also registered. With a sinking feeling Joran wondered how much he would have said that he shouldn't have if they hadn't got off talking about Mitra. He understood there was to be protective custody. But by the way Dreen was acting, and if those albums were confiscated, the arrest was for real.

Dreen nodded. "Arrested me."

"When?" Something was definitely wrong. Who had made the arrest and why?

Joran now wished desperately he knew more than vague words about probable industrial espionage and the Interplanetary Judiciary coming in. He assumed there was some real danger because of the change from Chelan going to be with Mitra to the brother Niki. Niki had impressed him as being quite capable of handling most situations.

"I'm honestly not sure. I've been sitting here more than an hour and less than two."

"I think," Joran said slowly, "you'd better not say another word to me or anyone until I talk to Juttar."

Joran broke the connection before Dreen could even say goodbye. What in the galaxy was wrong? Should he call Chelan? No, he decided. The old lad probably knew just about his much as he did. Whatever had gone wrong had obviously gone wrong within the Interplanetary Judiciary, and he wasn't stupid enough to touch that one. At least he hoped it was within the Judiciary. He hoped it was not an action by someone on Drezvir. He would have to call Juttar, and fast, but one thing first.

***

Mitra forced herself to take her compad out of her bag. She gave it a dirty look. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She'd been sitting on the lumpy sofa working herself up to calling home and telling her parents that she needed that lawyer. Now! The problem was that she didn't think they had got her a lawyer. She hadn't heard a thing.

She looked at the identifier. Joran? Hell! She was not going to talk to that man! No, rethink that. Just maybe the mood she was in was exactly the right one to be in to say a few things to him.

"Hello, Pretty Lady." Joran wasn't going to waste time. "Did you dump Dreen?"

"Did I what?" Mitra was incredulous.

"Dump Dreen."

"No I did not dump Dreen! He has been totally avoiding me." She added acidly, "And that is all your fault with that damned song you dedicated to me. We were watching the concert together. Then you... you ..." She couldn't find the words to let him know how furious she was.

"Sang to you," Joran said helpfully. He had very mixed emotions about that performance of M's song, and about being in love with Mitra, but embarrassment and regret weren't on the list.

"I tried to tell him I never encouraged you, but he didn't believe me. He's frosted me ever since."

Joran thought about it, tucking his legs up and chewing his lip. At last he shook his head. "That doesn't fit. He and I had it out in university over a girl and he didn't even care for her that much. He called me every name in his vocabulary, and I taught him a few shouting back." He grinned. "We took a few swings at each other too. Then she dumps both of us for some geeky little mathematician. Women!"

Mitra couldn't give a damn about Joran's university experiences, but she felt the beginnings of hope. "You mean he might have believed me?"

"I don't see why not. First, he hasn't come after me. Second, he's blind enough in love to believe anything you say. And third, even if he wasn't, our potential relationship has suffered from a singular lack of opportunity."

"Joran," Mitra said slowly and distinctly, "you and I have not had a relationship and we never will, potential or otherwise."

Joran shook his head indulgently. She was absolutely adorable furious like that. With luck the visual connection would last, but he'd better move it. "Mitra, I'll make allowances. You're all upset locked up like that. But don't worry. As soon as I get through talking to you I'll call your lawyer. Juttar will sort things out."

"You'll call who?" That got through her anger.

"Your lawyer. Juttar Kommur."

That was a name Mitra knew. Niki had said he was the best to defend her, and she had so desperately wanted to hear Niki had hired him. But if the family had actually got him, surely they would say so?

"Joran, I think you're mixed up."

"No, Pretty Lady. Juttar is your lawyer. Some of us lined him up for you, but we didn't want you worrying about such things so we didn't say."

"Oh." That was all Mitra trusted herself to say. What the hell else did they, whoever 'a few of us' were, think she'd been lying awake worrying about? She started to say so then shut her mouth. She tried again, feeling dazed. "Thank you."

"You'll like him. He's a great guy," Joran continued briskly. He didn't have all day. "What Dreen is claiming is you dumped him for C.C."

"C.C.?"

There was no questioning that tone of voice. C.C. wasn't even on the list of contenders. "Okay," Joran said, relaxing. "Let's sort the mixup out. Let's start with the concert. I sang to you and..." He paused hopefully.

"After that scene there was no way I was sticking around to have everyone stare and point." Mitra gave Joran a disgusted look.

"And?" He prompted again.

"I knew Dreen would want to watch you, so I asked C.C. to get me out of there. He's a friend from when we were kids."

Joran nodded. "And?"

"We went to the terraformers' complex. I didn't want to go back to the mining complex until everyone was in bed, thanks to that little exhibition of yours!"

"You just aren't used to having an artist around," Joran said soothingly.

He was impossible. If anything, Mitra got the impression he was pleased with himself over that performance.

"And?" Joran prompted into the silence.

"So I got busy on this simulation I've been helping C.C. with. He was in the lounge watching you." She almost mentioned Darwin talking to her and that he'd scared her suddenly passing out and starting hibernating, then remembered the call was being monitored and the fact the Pikkant were sentient was being kept a secret. "Eventually C.C. came to help and we got into an argument about how far seeds of various sizes and shapes could be distributed in a really good gale here with no soil to trap them." At the puzzled look on Joran's face she explained, "I've run terraformer simulations since I was a kid. Beti used to give me summer jobs. C.C. has been nice and letting me distract myself."

"Okay. You scientists got carried away. Then?"

"Eventually C.C. couldn't stop yawning and he told me to go home to Dreen. So I did."

"But you didn't."

"I tried! I pressed the door contact until my finger went numb, and I could hear the tone so it was working. He wouldn't let me in." The memory still smarted and that showed.

"Wouldn't or couldn't?"

"How couldn't? He has legs," Mitra added sarcastically.

"Mitra, what time was it? Joran asked patiently.

"About 3:00 AM, maybe later. Why?"

Joran shook his head. "Have you ever tried to wake Dreen up?"

"No. He gets up earlier than me. Why?"

"Believe me on this, as his ex roommate and frequent houseguest. A door tone definitely would not wake him up. Blowing the door down might, but I wouldn't swear to that. My first band used to practice with the amps on in the same apartment. He'd be asleep when the guys showed up, and his breathing wouldn't even change. We'd go in between songs to look at him. That fascinated one of the guys who was studying pre-med. So he was always checking Dreen's pulse and stuff like that.

"On the other hand Juttar would go nuts. First he would just yell at us to tone it down, which wasn't do-able. It wasn't tone-down music. Then he'd say to feed into headsets, but that's no fun. Then he'd try earplugs. Then he'd get mad and get out of bed and get dressed and go to the library." Joran looked virtuous. "All that extra study was great for his grades. Dreen would just get up in the morning, rub his eyes, look at the mess, and say 'Were the guys over?'."

"Oh ..." With the enlightenment came acute embarrassment. What must Dreen have thought?

Joran provided her with a reasonably good guess. "And no doubt, you got touchy and said fine, if that's what Dreen wants to be like, that's his choice, and went and had breakfast or lunch with C.C. confirming his suspicions." Joran felt rather like one of those lonely hearts advice columnists. "So," he said briskly, "now that we have sorted out that you're both idiots, do you want to cohabit? I can't swear Juttar can do much about your being arrested, but cohabiting is the sort of thing he'd better be able to arrange with the money he's getting paid."

The sudden switch to briskly businesslike had Mitra disoriented. "Well, yes," she admitted, wishing she were talking to almost anyone but Joran. "But what about Dreen?"

"Don't ask him," Joran advised. "Do like I do. Just show up carrying your overnight bag and tell him he's stuck with you. He's not going to argue with a guard standing there. He usually gets over being stiff backed and cranky in a couple days. Meantime play computer games or whatever." His expression softened. "And take very good care of yourself, Pretty Lady. Now, I've got to talk to Juttar."

*****

Chapter 22

Sitting quietly in his office, Olan Rostin looked old, faded, and insubstantial. HIs hands were simply resting on the worn desk, its scratches barely visible in the dim reddish light from the window. His khaki Mining Guild coveralls hung loose on him. He had been making himself eat a bit. Durstin was an example there. The man had pushed himself to collapse. But Olan had lost weight he couldn't afford to. And he was tired, so very tired. There had been one demand after another since the reactor accident. Steady pressure, decision after decision. And now this, the two sudden arrests.

He had given explicit instructions that he was not to be interrupted for anything less than an emergency, and his secretary obeyed instructions. So he had a little time to think, not much time, but a little. He went back to re-listen to the first of the two conversations with this Joran on Gingezel who must be Anton. It was a relief that Dreen was no longer playing that Anton album. Confiscating it was the only useful thing Trebur Auta had done since his arrival on-planet. AntonCorp definitely meant the usage warning on the label that playing it at too loud a volume could cause equipment damage. His technician hadn't managed to make out a single conversation when it was playing in the background for fear of that sort of damage. The music behind the conversation he was listening to now was loud, but the conversation was intelligible.

Unfortunately both the conversations with Dreen and Mitra were rather boring discussions of Dreen and Mitra's love life. Olan had hoped that since this was the first outside contact either had had since their arrests, at least one of them might cover some useful material. He really needed to know what plans they had each made for this eventuality, what kind of defense they intended. Still, the conversations had their potential. Surely their being lovers greatly strengthened the argument of collusion.

Olan had experienced mixed feelings ever since he had found out about their affair. Right up to the moment of their mutual arrest he had harbored hopes that the analysis would clearly point to an error in design by Mitra, not Dreen. Farolavo Power had attracted all the investors they needed and could go ahead. He personally believed Nemizcan Computing displays would be a real enhancement to their systems. Still, if the accident was proven clearly to be a fault of Dreen's personally, not Nemizcan Computing in general, that might not be a problem. Chett Linderson seemed to be running the company well and he was a pragmatic man. Of the two though, Olan preferred Dreen to Chett. Still, what could you do? It was coming down to the stage where blame for the accident had to be assigned to someone.

Where Mitra was concerned, Olan had no qualms. That woman had been a problem ever since she set foot on Drezvir three some years ago. He did not share Durstin's grudging admiration that she was brilliant. Competent certainly, but not brilliant, and her competence was definitely overweighed by her disruptiveness. Now, that new geothermal unit design Mark had come up with was brilliant. As a miner he could appreciate just how much easier it would make seating the geothermal units. Yes, that was brilliant.

Taking a sip of fruit electrolyte beverage, Olan made a face at the strange Outsider flavor. Still, he was grateful that so many supplies had been shipped in to the colony. Shifting to the second conversation, he nodded to himself. Yes, an argument of collusion was definitely strengthened. All in all, it was probably good the Judiciary had arrested Mitra now. When Durstin had a lucid interval, he would tell him. It might prevent his sliding into a complete breakdown. Dr. Brikel was becoming seriously concerned about the man's long-term mental health, and was keeping him mostly sedated.

That thought had Rostin frowning as he stared out his window at the lifeless, waterless landscape that gave no clue that it had shifted to biting cold from summer heat. A strong gust of wind brought a cloud of dust with it, obscuring the view. Was another red blizzard blowing in? That was all they needed. They were still reeling from the last one. It was going to be a bad winter for storms this year, not that Drezvir ever had a good winter.

From what Dr. Brikel had told him, Durstin seemed to be feeling that he was personally responsible both for the miners' deaths and for the hardships the colony had suffered from the loss of the power grid and therefore the hydroponics units providing much of their food. That was patently ridiculous! If Ken Kwan had not deliberately violated orders and they had not been fusing plugs into an unstable section of the mine wall, the worst that the mine crew would have suffered was a long unpleasant wait until the backup power was restored.

His face hardened. If Ken Kwan's daughter Ginny hadn't gone out in the hills and got herself lost when that red blizzard was rolling in, so many of the town's people wouldn't have been traipsing around trying to find her. There would have been enough staff on call for Durstin to get power at least partially restored before the hydroponics shed lost everything. And everyone would have been inside and relatively warm, not at risk of freezing to death. Well, Ken Kwan would get what was coming to him at the disciplinary hearing next week. At least the Judiciary was butting out of that, and the fancy Outsider lawyer who would be holoconferencing could say whatever he wanted. It wouldn't make any difference. If Ken Kwan wanted to waste what little money he had that way, it was up to him. It would make no difference, the man was finished.

Perhaps the hearing plus the fact arrests had been made and blame assigned for the accident would ease Durstin's mind. Olan hoped so. Durstin was a good man even if he was an Outsider, and no one could have worked harder to restore power. Without him they all would have died from hypothermia. Olan knew that with a certainty.

Well, the arrests must mean that this totally unnecessary and unwanted post-accident analysis the Judiciary had forced on him was winding down. And that must mean that soon, and five minutes ago would not have been soon enough, that self-important little Judiciary rep Auta and his guards would be out of here. Looking at things that way, the only reservation he had was that Juttar Kommur was representing both Dreen and Mitra. Even in the Farr Sector everyone had heard of Juttar Kommur. That was a bit of a shock, and certainly something Ari Dellmaice had never mentioned. If he knew... Now that was an interesting question. Did Ari know? If not, what stronger evidence of collusion and anticipating trouble could there be? The argument could be made that Mitra and Dreen had lined Kommur up to protect them if they were found out, but had not dared tell Ari for fear of raising suspicion. An interesting angle. Olan's face grew meditative.

***

Trebur absentmindedly took one of the confiscated albums from the pile on his desk and began tossing it and catching it, tossing it and catching it. I wonder... I just wonder. He knew that Olan Rostin figured the problem was simply that this was one of those Anton albums that had caused a lot of people grief ruining their equipment. He had his doubts. For sure if Dreen was playing it here all you got was distorted unintelligible conversation no matter who he was talking to. And the album had always used distorted unintelligible conversation as an alternate instrument. But having just listened to the confiscated album he thought that amongst the random voice sounds recorded there were some he didn't remember in his own favorite song, the seventh selection on the second album in the series. Maybe, or maybe it was his memory playing tricks.

Trebur carefully adjusted the volume on his compad to match the volume he had just played the confiscated album at and played the version he had listened to for years. Then he replayed Dreen's album. Then he repeated the sequence, then he listened to them both yet again. He still wasn't a hundred percent sure, but he didn't have a musician's ear. At the last he made up his mind. It was worth sorting out, and he knew just the person to do that, Jeena Cavella.

Jeena was a saucy thirtyish Latina that he fancied a bit and had taken out to supper once, but she had made it clear she wasn't interested in him as more than a friend. She was also a sound expert. There wasn't much she didn't know about seismic or investigative or diagnostic uses of sound. She loved the stuff. He had asked her once when they were both working late if she loved sound so much, why didn't she become a Sound Master in the music industry? It was much more lucrative and glamorous than being stuck in the Farr Sector. He found out that she had been. Then he'd got a fifteen minute diatribe about some unnamed son-of-a-bitch singer who had dumped her for a redhead, and if she ever had to master his sound again she'd... she'd...

Actually, Trebur had been impressed by her rather incoherent fuming. She'd had long enough being bored on Estoff to have come up with some creatively vindictive ideas, so maybe it was just as well she was stuck in the Farr Sector. At the time he had wondered if she had tried one of her threats, and got herself sacked and blacklisted in the music industry. Anyways the music industry's loss was his gain at the moment. If anyone could tell him if the Anton albums were altered, Jeena could and he finally had the actual albums, not recordings of the albums being played plus conversation.

He placed his call. "Jeena. How would you like to be back in the music industry for a change?"

*****

Chapter 23

There was absolutely no sense telling Joran there were times he could wring his neck. When Joran was composing, he was composing. The fact that he, Juttar, just might have liked to know that the Interplanetary Judiciary were poking their noses into the Drezvir investigation had no doubt entered Joran's mind. But it would not have received any priority until the song was done. At least once Joran had called Dreen up to chat and he'd found Dreen arrested, he'd had the sense to watch his mouth and finally made the call he should have in the first place.

Joran was watching his friend's face. "You're counting to ten and I screwed up."

"You said it, I didn't."

"I didn't know things would go wrong and Dreen and Mitra would get arrested. They're supposed to be in protective custody. I mostly just called because I figured Dreen would be bored already."

"It's a good thing you did." Juttar had a pretty good idea why Dreen hadn't called him. He was trying to decide whether or not it was time to take that fall. Damn! "Look, Joran, this may take a little sorting out, and right now I have to call Dreen and tell him to keep his mouth shut until it is. Okay?"

Joran nodded and disconnected, not at all reassured.

***

"Dreen." It was Juttar at his most solemn. "I am assuming that this, and all your conversations, are being recorded. For once in your life, you will listen to me, and you will not, I repeat not, say one word about your technical position or your legal position until I've sorted out exactly what charges you're facing. You will not discuss anything more controversial than the weather, or a soccer game. Agreed?"

They locked eyes in a battle of wills, both knowing exactly what Juttar was saying. He was not to take that fall. Dreen lost, simply because he didn't have the energy to win. "Agreed."

"Good." Juttar relaxed. Dreen's word was good. "Now, when you were arrested, were you told in any detail what for?"

Dreen shook his head. "I asked Auta, but all he would say was that it was at the instructions of some superior who would be arriving in a few days."

Screwup, major screwup. That superior had to be Ceb Windegren. It was extremely unlikely that the Farr Sector Judiciary would issue a countermanding order within minutes of the one from Ceb, and they wouldn't take days to get someone to Drezvir. But with conversations being monitored there was no way to tell Dreen that until he had some idea of who, among the multitude of people involved in the accident, Ceb Windegren had felt Dreen needed protection from. No. Felt was an inaccurate word and Juttar demanded verbal accuracy. Ceb Windegren would be the last person in the galaxy to get the wind up. If he was acting, and risking straining relationships between the Farr Sector and the Interplanetary Judiciary in the process, he had concrete evidence. Juttar would give a lot know what it was.

Dreen had obviously missed something since he saw a fall as his only real option. Or did he with this hacker thing? Were Dreen and Ceb playing the same game and Dreen had been too reserved to talk without proof? Well, they were all irrelevant speculations until he could speak freely with Dreen. And the next thing to do was to assess the likelihood of that.

"And you have had property confiscated?"

"Yes, my earphone/microphone unit and some Anton albums I was playing as background."

Juttar suppressed a smile. That had been creative on Dreen's or Joran's part. Even with the warning on them, those albums had cost Joran quite a bit in small damage claims. It was nice they were finally being useful. Neither Dreen nor Joran had enlightened Juttar about the alterations to the album. If they had, he would definitely not be suppressing a smile.

"I'll make a request they be returned." It wasn't likely to get anywhere though as long as Auta saw this as an arrest.

Dreen nodded. He wasn't any more optimistic about their return than Juttar was.

"Now," and this time Juttar was smiling, "I have a message from Joran who insists it be a direct quote even if it is recorded. He says to tell you quote 'you're a damned idiot and any man who doesn't open his door to his lady at 3:00 AM is asking for worse than getting frosted' end quote. So," Juttar's smile broadened, "since it is Mitra's preference, would you prefer to cohabit?"

***

Another call? Mitra got stiffly to her feet so she could pace around. She supposed it was the tension, but her tailbone hurt. If it was Joran again, so soon –. The thought died as the identifier read Juttar Kommur. Two conflicting thoughts raced through her mind. The first was not so much a thought as a sensation of pure panic. The second was that he really must be her lawyer then. This was accompanied by acute relief. The combination produced a rather peculiar lightheaded, knotted stomach feeling she decided, as she accepted the call.

This was not a good way to first meet a client Juttar admitted. He had made a serious error in judgment in not insisting on speaking to her earlier. He had intended to really push Dreen this week, with the analyses winding down, but obviously he was too slow. The trick now would be to try to not scare her any worse than she already must be, while at the same time not emphasizing to eavesdroppers the fact they'd never set eyes on each other. Joran had said he let slip on that fact, but only minorly, so it might not have been caught amidst a bunch of love-life talk. If anyone had picked up on the fact, it was hard to say what they'd make of it. He'd decided the best approach would be to simply plunge in and see if she played along.

"Mitra," Juttar began as soon as there was an image, "I've just talked to Dreen, and I want to say to you what I've said to him. Please assume that from now on this and every conversation you have will be recorded." He was watching Mitra carefully. Despite seeing holograms of her and Dreen together, he still hadn't been prepared for her being so tiny. She looked like she felt rough too. All the same, there was more life in her face and eyes than there were in Dreen's.

Mitra nodded, not sure what she should say to this stranger, and in all honesty more interested in what she thought of him than what he was saying. When Niki had talked lawyers early on she had recognized the name Juttar Kommur, but couldn't put a face to the name and hadn't been inclined to bother to look up an image. The man talking to her was definitely not handsome, although he looked like he might have kind eyes if they weren't so worried looking. She couldn't decide if that worried look meant things were bad, or he simply felt awkward like she did. Well, she'd let him take the lead.

The silence bothered Juttar, and he changed what he was going to say. "Mitra, are you all right, or should I be requesting medical attention for you before I say anything more?" Maybe she was in more shock than he'd thought.

That required an answer. "No, I'll be all right. Didn't Dreen tell you I busted my tailbone? I think stressing out set it off again."

That was calm enough. "Well, I'll let you be the judge, but please do get any medical support you need." Juttar braved a smile. "No heroines please."

Mitra nodded again unenthusiastically. She was tired of Dr. Liberty, and the woman had stayed handling her case. Still, it was kind of this man to worry. Haran Barloth had never so much as asked how she was doing. "I'll be fine," she repeated. "Thanks for your concern."

Juttar nodded. "I'm sorry I can't tell you exactly what you're charged with, or what your legal position is, but to be quite honest I think I'm going to have to do some chasing through the bureaucracy to get it straight. That may take a few days." He assumed Mitra had the usual antipathy to bureaucracies. If she assumed she was simply caught in a bureaucratic mess, it should keep her relatively calm until Ceb and her brother arrived. "Until then, I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Dreen. Put everything on hold and don't say a word about anything more than the weather, or fashion."

There was real amusement in Mitra's eyes. "You can't possibly have asked Dreen to discuss fashion!"

It was contagious, and Juttar found himself smiling back. Mitra also went up a few points in his estimation for being able to find something to laugh at at a time like this. "No, in his case I said soccer. But seriously Mitra, do not enter into any discussions on your own that could possibly have legal implications. If someone insists, simply ask them to wait and call me to conference. Don't even bother to look up the relative times – I'm used to Joran having a real knack for needing a lawyer at 4:00 AM, or mid-meal."

If the circumstances had been different and she wasn't terrified the hyperweb link would fail before they were finished, she would have asked how he stood rooming with Joran. As it was, she wasn't quite sure this was for real. First she had no help, then help was available twenty-four hours on call. If she ever saw Dreen again in a situation where she could speak freely, he was going to hear about this stunt. Playing strong and silent and letting her scare herself silly!

All the same, Mitra felt very, very relieved. She had been telling herself if she just did what she could technically to support the analysis, nothing else mattered. But her mind had developed this nasty little trick since she was really arrested for replaying scene after scene and asking her rather desperately 'what did you actually say'? She couldn't remember at all. But now she would take Juttar up on his offer for sure.

"Thank you," Mitra said simply, tears glistening.

"And Mitra, this includes discussions with your legal counsel at Dellmaice Power. I've had my secretary inform Haran that all future discussions must be conference calls, and I'll speak to him personally later to reinforce that. But if he 'forgets', once again, simply call me."

This time the tears that stung her eyes threatened to overflow. No more getting bullied, no more veiled threats. Somehow, she was very sure you could not intimidate Juttar Kommur.

The tears were not lost on Juttar. So Chett and Dreen weren't exaggerating. Well, he'd deal with Haran and Dellmaice Power when and if he had time. First things first, and Haran Barloth and his games were way down the list.

"Now Mitra, this has to include technical work too. Until we understand your position, I do not want any technical discussions."

Mitra stared. "I'm sorry Mr. Kommur, but that is completely impossible. The reactor was my project, and if I'm not available Azlo and Tranngol will be wasting time."

Interesting. He hadn't had so much as a protest from Dreen about that. Either the protest was coming as soon as Dreen was less numb, he'd totally given up, or he had simply agreed because it was easiest. If so, Dreen would keep the letter of his word, but not the spirit by shifting technical contact to Chett and Jann back at Head Office. Juttar raised a call to Chett to next priority. There were a couple other things to discuss with him anyway. "You realize the authorities may not allow contact anyway."

"That's different. But if there are technical questions, I'm answering them." Mitra's chin came up.

The tone was totally non-negotiable. That was that. Juttar touched a contact. "I appreciate your position, but once again, I want someone conferencing in every discussion, night or day. Can I introduce you to two staff members I would like to have do that? Neither are engineers or scientists, but both have worked with Azlo Mirelle on legal cases, using him as an expert witness. I'm sure he won't object to their being observers."

"Fine." Mitra was feeling dazed again. But no new faces joined them, and Juttar was frowning. Her stomach started to knot again.

"One moment Mitra. I know if we get off on this, I'll forget the most important thing. Is Joran right? Would you prefer to cohabit with Dreen?"

"Yes, but if it's a problem –"

"Leave that one to me. It's manageable. And –" This was why he was frowning. He was not sure what this message meant, or how it would be received. "Dreen wanted to know if you're coming, could you bring your sleeping bag. Tina has his."

To his relief she smiled. "That was good of Dreen."

*****

Chapter 24

Juttar wasn't kidding. Somewhere there was a major screwup. Chett leaned back and asked quietly, "And you are sure Dreen won't do something stupid like decide this is the time to take that fall?"

Juttar knew he and Chett did not have a comfortable relationship. From Juttar's perspective, he would have been a lot happier if Dreen had not handed total control of Nemizcan over to Chett. He should have at least left legal and preferably financial control with a third-party, preferably himself or if not him, Joran. He would also like to understand the extremely strange dynamic between Dreen and Chett anytime Mitra was discussed.

Juttar had tried to bounce that one off Joran, but all he'd got was that Chett Linderson was one so-and-so piece of spaceflot, and a real son-of-a-bitch. That had not been exactly reassuring, and it had added to the confusion too, since Joran and Chett seemed to work together well. The confusing answer had prompted him to do a background check on Chett though, and while he might not know as much about Chett as Ghen Kulgalu did, he knew a lot.

'Is the time to take the fall' was, from Juttar's perspective, an interesting and unwelcome first comment. Was it a shrewd guess, or a fishing expedition? He said flatly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

From Chett's perspective, the relationship was a lot simpler. Juttar was both Dreen's friend and counselor, and he knew Juttar did not trust him at all. That was fair enough, but now was not the time to be fencing with each other.

"Look, Juttar, I'm not trying to take your friend's life, or his business for that matter." Chett leaned further back, stretched out his legs, and wondered just how inappropriate it would be to send Arla for a milkshake. A nice sugar lift and serotonin high would help right now. "So let's stop snarling at each other. I know perfectly well I'm the one who should be on Drezvir, and everything you've just said reinforces the fact it should be me, not Dreen. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't tell him he couldn't be with Mitra."

"How reinforces?" Juttar was still reserving judgment.

Chett curbed his impatience. "Fair enough, Juttar, but if 'twenty questions' doesn't work, how about we just agree to dislike each other and get on with it. Time must be critical. First, when I got back, I told Dreen I smelled a rat, simply because a project of Mitra's shouldn't have gone wrong. She's too good, too dedicated. But that has a flip-side. She assumes everyone else is like her. I grant you I never thought industrial sabotage." Part of his light-speed brain was still tossing that one around and getting only one uncomfortable answer. "What I thought was that she was wide open for fraud – falsified QA, that sort of thing. I told Dreen if I went, I'd see something like that faster than he would. I've done enough kicking around the galaxy to have a dirty mind. But," he added sharply, "it doesn't mean I play that way."

"I never said you did," Juttar said mildly.

"Or said I didn't," Chett observed dryly. "Anyway, the second reason is the situation that's happened now. Presumably the arrest of Dreen isn't personal – as the Nemizcan rep I would have done. Let's not pretend. Dreen could perfectly well just decide to quit and take a fall. I wouldn't.

"I love Mitra." He watched Juttar's face, but didn't expect to see anything. He didn't either. "But not the way Dreen does. I'd be fighting like hell to get her out of it, but I'd fight as hard, or probably harder, to get me out. And when it came right down to it, I honestly don't think I'd know until the last second whose skin I'd save. Not wanting to know that kind of thing about myself would have me working damned hard to solve the problem."

Chett stopped suddenly and shrugged. "Maybe that says something not very nice about me. I don't know. Maybe if Mitra had reciprocated on the emotion, like she does with Dreen, I'd be feeling different. I don't know. And," he looked at Juttar with cold tired eyes, "Dreen knows all of this. I told him and offered to transfer control back, because I didn't see how he could trust me."

"I only have your word for the latter."

"That's right." Chett's voice had an edge to it now. "Would it help if I made the same offer to you? Transfer control to you right now to hold for Dreen?"

Chett obviously wasn't bluffing. In fact, he looked like it would be a relief. Well, Juttar thought, I now have the explanation for some very strange dynamics. Aloud he said, "It wasn't a waste of time Chett. Are apologies accepted? All I knew was you and Dreen weren't comfortable at times, and that wasn't reassuring."

Chett shrugged. "It wasn't something Dreen would have talked to you about."

Juttar looked sharply at Chett, but it apparently hadn't been a reference to his past with Dreen, his marrying a woman Dreen loved. Just a statement that Dreen was a private person. Juttar nodded. "So you think you might see trouble faster than Dreen would." He'd believe that. "I know you said you weren't thinking sabotage, but if you were now – or Dreen for that matter ..." he paused a moment as the thought crossed his mind. "Chett, do you think that was what Dreen meant with the hacker idea? I thought he was just grasping at straws – you know – keeping his hopes up. But could he have had a specific party in mind?"

Chett considered. "Quite possibly, but this isn't the time to put words in his mouth. He's there and I'm not and he may be thinking someone totally different than I am. He didn't say."

"But you are thinking someone. Just thinking, or more than that?"

"More. Motive, and opportunity in the sense of physical presence. The stumbling block is capability. I simply don't know on that ."

"Who?" Juttar asked bluntly.

"Given intervention in the situation by Ceb Windegren, you aren't going to like the answer. His son, C.C."

*****

Chapter 25

Ceb Windegren was not particularly surprised to hear he had a call from the Juttar Kommur. Juttar was flat out of luck though. Ceb did not intend to give him any information until his investigations on Drezvir turned up something definite. While both the information Niki had dug up and the trouble gone to to hide it were disturbing, they were not automatic proofs of guilt. If Rostin was guilty of the accident, Dreen and Mitra were in a very dangerous situation. An engineered 'suicide' driven by guilt would be the perfect way to permanently divert suspicion. Hence protective custody. But Olan Rostin might not be guilty of anything more than opportunism and rather dubious business ethics. Drezvir would tell.

Still, Ceb wanted to discuss with Juttar where Mitra and Dreen could be moved to from Drezvir and still be in custody, but be safe. Also, Juttar might know something he didn't know about the Mining Guild and the Farr Sector Judiciary feud. So he told his secretary he would take the call.

"Juttar, how are you? It's been a while." Ceb decided Juttar looked like he hadn't slept for a few nights. His brown eyes were bloodshot and there were lines of fatigue.

Juttar knew Ceb Windegren well enough to be able to read him. He looked the way he always did, grave, austere, and at the moment unperturbed. He was not the source of their problems, so the question was, who was? Give Ceb time to put his mask on, and he'd never find out. So Juttar dispensed with civilities.

"My clients have been arrested."

"By who?" The question came out sharply.

By who? And who but the Sector Judiciary had that power? Apparently, on Drezvir, the Mining Guild did. Juttar had not known their power could extend that far over non-Guild members, especially Outsiders, and Juttar thought he knew as much as anyone did about the Farr Sector. Perhaps he should talk to Ghen Kulgalu's lawyers after all. Fast. He filed that thought away and focused on Ceb's slip.

"By Trebur Auta, Farr Sector Judiciary representative on Drezvir."

Ceb relaxed. "No, Juttar. They're under protective custody. I issued a B5WR9".

It was Juttar's turn to shake his head. "No they are not. As you no doubt know by now, Dreen Pendi has been through the arrest process before. He knows the difference. He has also had personal property confiscated."

Ceb did not make the mistake of asking Juttar if he was sure. Juttar did not get things like that wrong. Instead he said, "When?"

"I don't know the time to the minute, but roughly the time you sent your order to put them into protective custody. Any chance the Farr Sector Judiciary could have looked at the same facts you have, whatever they are, and jumped in a different direction?"

"No." Ceb was frowning. He had no idea what was wrong.

"May I ask a direct question?" Juttar inquired.

"Yes. No guarantees of an answer."

"Who did you contact?"

"Dr. Trebur Auta, the man in charge." Ceb saw no reason Juttar shouldn't know.

Juttar's face cleared. "That could explain it, depending on your message. He's a tech type Ceb, his degree is in physics, fluid flow. He's just assigned to the Farr Sector Judiciary for the Drezvir analysis. Could he have misunderstood your instructions? My reading of the man from my limited contact just now, trying to arrange for Mitra and Dreen to cohabit, is that he is way out of his depth."

Juttar waited patiently while Ceb thought.

As last Ceb said,"It would appear he must have."

"So are you going to correct things?"

There was another more substantial pause. "No Juttar. Not until I'm there. Mitra and Dreen are just as well protected as it is."

Juttar mentally raised his eyebrows but he kept his mouth shut and his face impassive. The danger must be significant.

As last Ceb said dryly, "Are we spending all day waiting each other out?"

Juttar smiled. "No. I was just hoping for volunteered information. If I ask what the vague words 'industrial sabotage' mean, will I get an answer?"

"No. And if I ask you if your clients have any evidence of the same, or even suspicions, will I get an answer?"

"Yes, but you won't like it."

***

Chett was nowhere near as convinced as Juttar was that Dreen would wait events out and not take that fall. Dreen had given his word, but would he stand by it if there was an imminent threat to Mitra? Chett did not want to risk finding out. While Juttar was focusing on sorting out the screwup he would focus on Dreen. It would be tricky with the eavesdroppers, but he would see if he could convince Dreen to relax and somehow convey that things were better than they looked.

Chett thought about that while someone, he wasn't sure who since he'd just volunteered the first person he saw in the hall, got him that milkshake. Arla had gone home an hour or so ago and Lindy flatly refused to learn the way to the Scoop. Then he made a visit across the office to Lindy, one down to Vennbir, and a call to Brys looking for distractions to talk to Dreen about that couldn't possibly be related to Drezvir.

***

"Dreen." Chett took one look and agreed with Juttar. Dreen had totally withdrawn within himself. "Should I be saying hi to Mitra too, or is she being a typical female and taking hours to decide what to pack?"

"Mitra?" Dreen hadn't heard a word from anyone about anything. "She is coming?" He hadn't dared call Mitra. He didn't know what he would do to if she needed him and he couldn't go to her.

"That's what Juttar said. If she's not there yet, assume a couple dozen forms are being filled out. Or she's lost her favorite lipstick and is emptying all her drawers to find it. It will turn out to have sunk to the bottom of that tote of hers where she first looked." That brought some semblance of life to Dreen's face, and even a hint of amusement at the mention of her tote bag. No doubt Dreen had been the victim of that black hole a lot more times than he had. "So let's not waste time and let's go over some things."

That brought reality crashing back. "I'm not allowed to talk to anyone about anything." Dreen's voice was flat, not resentful.

"Except soccer. I know, I got the lecture. That's crap!" Chett said firmly. "Juttar means to protect you but I intend to take the 'only talk soccer' as intent, not a direct order. As long as we don't say anything that has any possible implication to Drezvir, life and function at Nemizcan have to go on. Now, I can't feed you any of Lindy's cookies." Chett held up a chocolate chip cookie he'd helped himself to from her fridge. He had no idea how Lindy found time to bake now that she was VP of R&D but a fresh supply had arrived yesterday morning. "So why don't you go and get whatever you've got that's next best, while I connect with the nice young woman Juttar has assigned as my watchdog since he can't do everything at once. She's been eavesdropping but agreed to stay out of things until we said hello."

"I'm not hungry." The mere idea of food was nauseating.

"Maybe not," Chett said in a gentle voice as he stretched his long legs out underneath the desk. "But all the same, you're going to get up and move around and get something. You have to get over being frozen, Dreen. Otherwise how will you be able to take care of Mitra?"

Frankly Chett expected it would be the other way around. Mitra would take care of Dreen. When Dreen first got to Drezvir he had taken care of her, but not now. For what ever reason, and Chett didn't blame him because there were plenty of reasons, Dreen had lost heart. Mitra on the other hand was exhausted, cranky, but by all accounts hanging in there. Once she got to Dreen's apartment, she'd probably alternate between babying him, snapping his head off, and generally tuning Dreen up.

Even in the remote eventuality, or was it remote? Anyway, if there was a physical threat, he'd lay odds on Mitra handling it. Chett had done mat work with both of them, and he'd bet Mitra would take Dreen four out of five times. Dreen was obviously well-trained at some point in his life and had kept that training up, but he was slow. Just slow enough you could use that against him, and he didn't compensate for that. Mitra on the other hand was fast and really used her tiny size as an advantage. After the third time he'd ended up flat on his back with her laughing down at him, Chett had started asking questions. He had learned Mitra had been a serious martial arts competitor until she turned eighteen and had liked the open class category where she took on a range of sizes of either sex.

Saying that Mitra would take care of him however, would not motivate Dreen. Chett let an edge of impatience creep into his voice. "Move it Dreen. I've got a ton of stuff to do before I pack it in for the night, and I had intended to collect Loana on the way out." That did get a smile. Good.

"And work never did interfere with your love life." Dreen obediently rose. It was starting to get through to him that Chett was not showing any signs of being seriously upset. He wasn't happy, but he was in his 'let's get this cleaned up and I'm out of here' mode. But if anyone knew the Drezvir situation it was Chett. So maybe something was going on he didn't know about. And maybe he was wishful thinking to the point of fantasizing. All the same, the chocolate bar he found looked good and Dreen brought two back to the little table.

***

Mitra was not packing as Chett had expected. She hadn't heard anything either, and she didn't want to jinx anything. She was moving restlessly around the room deciding what to pack, and cursing her tailbone. She was stuck on two items. The first was that damned necklace! Should she take it along since it was so valuable, or leave it here and hope it was stolen? What was Joran thinking giving her something like that, an exact duplicate of what he wore on stage, just sized for her being tiny. The second problem was her favorite of the night gowns Joran had sent. It really was warmer than her flannel nightie and much prettier. But was it a bad move? After all, the fit was perfect. Could Dreen decide to take that the wrong way?

Mitra paused, placing her hand on her hip hoping that might make the pain less. It didn't. It made it worse and seemed to strain her tense back. She gave the covered window a dirty look. Not that you could see much but dust with the red blizzard that had blown in over the past hour, but she needed to be able to look outside. Why did another blizzard have to come so soon? Everyone had to be frightened, afraid the power would fail again. She was too, even though she knew Martine had the grid as stable as it could be. But as stable as it could be was not stable. Another gust of wind slammed into the wall. Mitra hugged herself.

She supposed she should call her family and tell them to stop looking for a lawyer, that she had Juttar Kommur. Juttar was rather sweet too. But if she called she would have to tell them she was arrested, and Mitra didn't think she could handle that. Maybe later when she was with Dreen. Or maybe later still when Juttar had sorted things out. She turned back to the pile accumulating on the sofa. Should she take all three nighties from Joran?

*****

Chapter 26

Brys was staring at her screen, her pretty face intent and frowning, her blond hair escaping from its ponytail. Evrit was watching her across the room with an 'I told you so' look on his narrow face. Vennbir was just watching Brys as he holoconferenced from Tranus. He hadn't even remembered to brush the hair out of his eyes. They had all lost track of how late it was.

It had been Evrit's idea to just let the hacker into the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb this time and simply watch what he did. They were all quite convinced now that they had two hackers, but as Evrit had firmly said, being convinced wasn't proof. They needed scientific evidence. And the best evidence would be to log the behavior of the hackers since they couldn't catch them with their current trace. Two styles of work equals two hackers.

"But ..." Brys found then lost her voice. She swallowed hard trying to force down her fear and tried again. "Whoever it is, they are using the custom Nemizcan library like they know it inside out." She watched as another call was being added to the program the hacker was putting together. It was going to do a lot of damage! It would take days to put the system back together. "Please – Evrit! It's time to throw them out."

"No." Evrit's voice didn't hold room for argument. "I'm not as stupid as you and Vennbir think. I can see what they're building. And," he looked at the screen and then back to Brys, his pale eyes unnaturally hard, "we're letting them finish."

"Evrit –" Brys set her jaw.

"Hey," Vennbir intervened, making them both jump. "I don't think you're stupid, Evrit. I was kind of hoping for a job on that thesis project of yours."

Evrit shifted his focus to that corner of his screen, expecting Vennbir was making fun of him.

But Vennbir was sincere and it showed.

Slightly mollified, Evrit said, "All right, Brys thinks – Galaxy! Look at that!"

"Where did they learn that trick?" Brys demanded.

"Did a lot of snooping around before they attacked us and we noticed them?" Evrit suggested. But he didn't really believe what he said, and it showed on his long face. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they'd better stop this before –

"Maybe it's someone from one of the hubs – or Head Office," Vennbir suggested. "Do they code much at the hubs?"

"Maybe it's that hacker Chett fired getting even," Brys suggested. "But I don't care. He's out of –" Brys never finished the sentence. The code was deleted and the hacker was gone. She blinked at the screen and demanded, "What was that about?" The screen didn't have any better answer than she did.

***

Klarak Voroth stared at his now inactive compad, a meditative frown marring his handsome face. That session was wrong. All wrong. He'd been working fast, as fast as he could before he got caught and booted out. He had wanted to really take the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb beta down this time, smash it, give that bastard Chett Linderson a serious problem to deal with. Let him find out he wasn't as smart as the thought he was. But nothing had happened. Nothing. He'd had the beta to himself. That was wrong. His nerves had got the better of him and he'd pulled out. Now he had to figure out what Brys and Evrit were up to. They were not stupid. He had learned that, and this cat and mouse game was fun only if you didn't get caught.

His mind still on Brys and Evrit, Klarak returned the call from Zloenni, then walked across the lawn from his guest house to her villa. The tropical heat was oppressive, the air thick. The tropics of Pendrae were fast losing their appeal. Klarak ran a hand over his dark curls, patting them into place as he approached the door. He kept telling himself he should totally ignore Zloenni and show up a mess, but he didn't have the nerve.

The door opened to his palm print and retinal scan, and he started down the entry hall, went to take the door on the right since she had said to join her in the atrium, and froze. The door wasn't there. Klarak looked around, frowning. Nothing was the same. He was reasonably sure he wasn't insane or hallucinating. So what was going on? Klarak arbitrarily opened the first door and knelt, running his fingers along the marble. Yes. There was a track when you knew what you were looking for. Clever. Zloenni probably had this whole place made of movable walls. That was an interesting approach to security. What was really impressive though was how quickly she'd changed it. He'd been here five or six – Klarak checked his time strip – no make that seven hours ago. And now the new configuration looked like it had always been here. He did not want to speculate on the need for the change.

"Looking for something?"

The voice made Klarak start. He stared up at a large, muscular, dark skinned man in the household staff uniform.

"No. Just admiring Zloenni's handiwork, and wondering how to find her now." By way of explanation he added, "I'm the houseguest – the guy that lives in the garden house."

"This way."

The man, who was obviously a servant/bodyguard, was a stranger. This did not surprise Klarak. The 'bodyguards', with the exception of that creep Cobyn, rarely lasted two weeks. Klarak had no illusions as to why. What puzzled him was where Zloenni got the seemingly inexhaustible supply. As to how she managed to get the ones she dumped to keep their mouths shut, he assumed that detail was left to Cobyn.

Klarak would have sworn they were going the wrong direction, but after several turns a door opened and he was at the atrium. Presumably it and the kitchens were fixed locations in the residence.

"You will find Zloenni in the tub."

There was not the 'sir' that the situation warranted, and the tone was barely civil. The man obviously considered him competition, which had to mean Zloenni intended to play games. Suppressing a sigh, Klarak said resignedly, "Thank you. I know the way from here."

Zloenni obviously did intend to play games. She was lounging in the hot tub, her frizzy red hair loosely pinned up so tendrils escaped, her beautiful creamy shoulders just showing above the water. Her face as always was perfectly made up accentuating slanted and cat-like eyes. For a fleeting moment Klarak wondered if his brother Mark had ever seen her without makeup, or if she slept in makeup, got up in the morning, showered in private, and reapplied it before reappearing. Most likely. On a table beside the tub was a carafe of wine, and two glasses. Damn!

As he approached she sat up straighter, making it obvious she was topless in the tub. There was no point looking modestly away. That would just amuse Zloenni, and they would move to the next stage of the game. She would be all over him.

"Hello, Klarak. Do join me."

Klarak gave her and the beautifully shaped breasts an indifferent look and said, "Don't waste your time, Zloenni. I'm not my brother. Remember?"

For a moment irritation tightened Zloenni's lips and hardened her face. "Apparently not." She slid back down into the warm caressing water and watched Klarak standing there. He intrigued her. Men rarely turned her down, but he had consistently since his arrival. At one point she had decided he must be gay, but Cobyn had corrected that assumption. He had quite deliberately pointed out that Klarak had lived with a blonde mistress on Tranus. Cobyn did not like Klarak at all.

"So, are you joining me?" It was an inviting purr.

"No."

This time the irritation wasn't passing. The green eyes flashed and she stood up, letting Klarak have a good look at the fact she was bottomless too. "Then hand me a towel!"

She was furious, Klarak realized with alarm. Zloenni was dangerous enough when she was happy. He said placatingly as he reached for a towel, "Tell yourself it isn't your fault I only go for blondes." That had the advantage of being true too. "And," he added with a smile as he held up the towel for her to wrap around herself, "tell yourself you probably aren't missing much."

That bit of self-deprecation brought a gleam of amusement to Zloenni's eyes. "If you say so." She tied the towel around herself and sat gracefully on a low stool by the table. "A glass of wine, Klarak?" She knew what the answer would be, if he dared give it, and watched his discomfort.

Klarak had a firm rule on his visits to Zloenni. He didn't eat anything that was not from a communal bowl when he was forced to dine with her, and always left a layer on the surface of his plate. On non-dinner occasions he ate food he'd bought in town before coming over, and if he got unbearably thirsty he excused himself to the toilet and drank tap water from the cup of his hand. They could well have been pure fabrication, but he'd heard too many stories from Cobyn. With her furious though, he didn't know what to do.

Zloenni laughed and picked up not the glass but the carafe, tipping it to her lips and taking a hearty swallow. She paused, then took another. "The level has dropped – check it." She held out the slender necked carafe for inspection.

"I believe you." Klarak sat down on the other low stool. "But if you don't mind I prefer to be sober discussing business. That is what you said you wanted to do."

Zloenni shrugged. "Ah yes, business." She looked at Klarak, who was both like, and unlike his half-brother Mark. The physical resemblance was strong enough she found Klarak as attractive as Mark. The dark brown hair, the fair skin, the intelligent watchful eyes, the well shaped bodies. And they were both hard-driven, competent men. But there the similarity ended. Klarak had an air of self completeness Mark would never have, and she was never quite sure what Klarak would do. That made her nervous, and Zloenni did not like being nervous.

"I rather think Klarak, that it is time you disappear." The eyes that were watching her did not so much as flicker.

"Why Zloenni?" Zloenni was not prone to nerves.

"The situation on Drezvir has moved to the next stage. Mitra Kael and Dreen Pendi have been arrested. I do rather think," she purred with a malicious gleam in her eyes, "that that's a cause to celebrate. Don't you?" She held the carafe up again.

*****

Chapter 27

"I don't intimidate!" Joran broke the contact. Actually, that lawyer was damned good at intimidation. Breaking Johnny's contract was going to end up in court, and of course Juttar was tied up with Dreen. In fact, Juttar would just give him shit and say he and Johnny could perfectly well have waited a few months until they knew what was going on with Dreen. Juttar just didn't understand.

Joran opened the patio door and stepped out. It was still hot, but the air was sticky now and smelled of the ozone of an approaching storm. He couldn't breathe. It was like the whole sky was crushing down on him. He had to get out of the city to breath. Joran stepped back in and took out his compad. He couldn't even use the Allegro. It was en route to Plenata to pick up Ceb Windegren and Nikki Kael. He called the spaceport.

"I would like to charter a jet for immediate departure."

"Certainly. Where to?"

"Crescent Bay." He could breathe there. Maillie wouldn't be there, but he would feel her presence in each thing she had lovingly chosen for their apartment. Maybe that would help him get through. Maybe. Instinctively Joran's hand went to the pocket that no longer held his drugs. No! He stopped, appalled. Dreen deserved better than that. He deserved better than that.

***

The flashing light let Joran know there was a priority message waiting for him when he returned from walking the length of the Crescent Bay beach. He checked the identifier. Lindy. Hell! Something else couldn't have gone wrong already, could it? Not just in the length of time he had taken for a walk after the flight. Could it? He tried to think what the disaster could be. He'd been talking mostly to Chett, not Lindy recently, because Chett was running things. Lindy hadn't minded. She said she didn't want to be the middle person and distort messages. So what could be so wrong Lindy called? And why Lindy, not Chett, or for that matter, Juttar?

Well, speculating didn't solve anything. Joran called up the message. Lindy's face, when it appeared, was nervous. That didn't help. He froze the message. If something was really really wrong, like Dreen was dead, Lindy might be the one they volunteered to tell him. But surely she would be crying then? He kept both shaking hands on his compad so they couldn't stray to that empty pocket and restarted the message.

"Joran, I'm not sure if it's my place to be calling, and at a time like this –" She sounded nervous too. Joran swore, and froze the message again. He was starting to not like today. Yesterday had been lousy too, with Dreen and Mitra arrested, but at least there had been a good start, even if it was a false one. Today had been lousy from square one. Dreen and Mitra were still in limbo, he'd tried to push Juttar to get them to be in custody here on Gingezel and got a pretty lukewarm response, and getting Johnny Sun sprung was going to the lawyers stage so fast his head was spinning. He paced the length of the long living room, and looked out at the bay. Were all those holiday-makers hiding problems behind their smiles?

Joran sighed and returned to the message.

"– but I'm being an interfering in-law. Do you remember Mikey from the night we went to that club? His band has made a demo up, and they had a big fight about whether or not they dared send it to you. They finally decided not, it would be presumptuous, taking advantage of your being nice to them that night." She swallowed and played with the platinum blond hair at her temple.

"If you can find the time though, Joran, could you watch it as a favor to me? I'm not a pro, so I could be wrong, but I think it's good. If I am wrong, I'll just apologize now for wasting your time." There was another nervous smile, and Lindy was gone.

Did he remember Mikey? What a stupid question. The guys in WinSome obviously did not realize it, but Mikey and his friends had turned things around for him after The Anton Band walked out. In the years after Maillie died, he'd truly forgotten what it was like to be young and excited and really love music. But those couple of hours of fooling around with the kids – no, he was aging himself using those words. Keya's girls were kids. He was on his third band, the one that gelled into The Anton Band, minus Bojo of course, by Mikey's age. Anyway, those couple of hours had been precious. He'd give a listen, and if the demo was any good at all, send it along to someone who could help them. What a night that had been with Lindy ... Joran let himself slip into reverie.

***

"Joran." Lindy touched his arm. "I wonder if we should go?" Her eyes darted around the rather flashily opulent, dimly lit lounge.

He looked at her, mildly surprised. He was just starting to relax and settle in and intended to enjoy his first night out in public since being delivered stoned out of his mind to Dreen's apartment by Jon and Arn. Lindy had tricked him on that, telling him to arrive at her place dressed up and he'd been pissed at the trick. But that hadn't lasted through the appetizers in that quiet little restaurant, so he had asked the manager to book them a table at a club. The environment here wasn't bad at all, and the band was pretty good. Good enough in fact that he was thinking about asking them if they had any material of their own. So far they'd been doing requests.

"Why? You getting tired?" That was fair enough. She had to work in the morning. He didn't have anything until his afternoon appointment at that rehab clinic in the slums. He'd picked it both because the doctor was good, and because it was somewhere Dreen would never have heard of.

"No. But I think you've been recognized. At least, a man has been staring at you for a few minutes, and he said something to his table and they all turned and stared too."

"Who?" As long as they weren't going to make a scene he didn't want to leave.

"Three tables that way, the man in the bluish suit beside the woman in a full length wine gown."

Joran twisted around, deliberately meeting the elegantly dressed older man's eyes. They were icily hostile. Joran turned back to Lindy with a grin.

"If he's recognized me, he sure isn't a fan. My guess, since I'm dressed all wrong for this place, is he figures I'm a hired stud and he's getting up the nerve to complain to management to get me strong-armed out of here."

Joran was wearing Dreen's best tweed jacket, which wasn't exactly wrong anywhere, anymore than it was exactly right anywhere. But he'd put it over a washed out purple metallic sweater and old casual pants. It had been the best Joran could come up with on zero notice. When Lindy had decided to pull that little trick of telling him to wear a jacket, he had assumed wrongly she'd meant supper at her place with an event like a birthday party for the grandkids, not that she had decided he had to get out in public sometime. They were now, thanks to an obvious misunderstanding with the restaurant manager, at a secluded table in a lounge Lindy said you only took your mistress to. Joran had decided by the clientele that they were expensive mistresses of business types. Lindy on the other hand fit in perfectly, elegant and blonde in basic black and diamonds.

"Joran!" Lindy would have been appalled if Joran didn't obviously find the idea hilarious.

His grin broadened. "Want to really give him something to complain about?"

That was the first real flash of the old Joran Lindy had seen all night. She didn't want to discourage him but ... "Like what?"

"Have you ever danced the Ixunnga?" It had cropped up about one and a half years ago on Tamara.

"I've only seen it on holovision," Lindy said, starting to smile too. That would definitely give everyone something to watch.

"So do you want a lesson? I can go negotiate with the band." Joran looked across the room to where they were having drinks at a table on a break.

He was obviously thoroughly amused by the idea. "Why not? It's only a dance."

Joran's eyes became wary. "Uh, Lindy. Were you paying attention to that holovision, or busy playing with the grandkids? That dance is about as close as you can come to having sex in public with your clothes on."

Lindy laughed. He really looked worried. "Joran, I'm not sixteen, and I was married for over twenty years." She doubted it had anything on a couple dances going around when she was a girl, but she didn't want to date herself by naming them.

The grin was back. "All right, I just don't want to lose a friend. And ... umm," Joran searched for a tactful phrasing, "let's hypothesize that I ... umm ... despite the purest of thoughts I assure you ... umm ... hit an involuntary and uncontrollable reaction we just both laugh and say oops, I don't get my face slapped on the dance floor?"

Lindy's lips twitched in amusement. "It's that bad?"

"It's that good. Should I go talk to the band?"

"By all means." This should be very interesting. Lindy watched as Joran crossed the floor with something approaching his usual animation.

***

As he crossed the room, Joran studied the four members of WinSome sprawled in chairs around a table working on beverages. The man Joran had decided must be the bandleader since he chose and introduced the songs was a pleasant looking fair-skinned man with brown eyes and a medium build. He was probably brunette, but his hair was dyed turquoise and matched an extremely cut shirt. His speaking voice was good, his baritone singing voice even better and he played a mean keyboard – crisp and fast, no slop.

Sitting next to him was the lead singer and their bass player. He reminded Joran of Johnny Sun, both in the pale café-au-lait coloring and the pleasantly ugly looks. He was taller though and more intense. He was also the only one Joran judged as having that undefinable extra it would take to go solo, not stay in a band singing harmony. He'd opted for dark purple hair, and a purple sweater that could well have been a cheap ripoff of the one Joran was wearing.

Next to him was the drummer. Joran's lips twitched slightly into a smile as his eyes rested on the man. Every band needed someone with an attitude to keep life lively, and he would definitely do that. The drummer was a bone thin oriental, probably so skinny because he put so much energy into his playing. He'd been drenched with sweat part way through the first song and hadn't let up. His long samurai style hair was bright orange. So was his sweatband. The sweatband had oriental characters printed across it, and there was also a line of oriental characters embroidered down the front of his loose fitting sweat-stained orange shirt.

Between the drummer and the bandleader was the lead guitar player and second tenor. He was a gentle giant type of man, and Joran had noticed him stooping onstage to not tower over the bandleader. He had the rather light clear voice men his size so often had, and he could make his guitar sing as well as he did. As a guess Joran would say the spiky pink hair was probably blond. The ruffly pink shirt was brand-new, so either he was a new band member, or a very long time member of the band who had worn one costume out.

Joran approached them with mixed feelings, because bands tended to vary a lot on what they thought about interruptions in breaks. Personally he hated them. Still, the faces that turned to him as he approached looked friendly, not studiously polite, and he imagined he might have seen the flicker of recognition. It was improbable, but once they saw him approaching they'd all exchanged glances.

"Sorry to interrupt your rest, but do you happen to know what good Ixunnga?" He doubted it. That's why he was tackling them on a break.

"No, I'm sorry, sir," the bandleader took the role of spokesman. "It hasn't caught on in this part of Tranus yet."

Joran put on his best smile. "Can I negotiate a compromise?"

"We'd be honored, sir." The bandleader was on his feet, indicating Joran should take his chair.

The rest of the band were rising too, and Joran hastily waved them down as he took the vacated chair. He didn't want a scene. "When did you place me?" he asked with curiosity as the bandleader pulled up a chair for himself.

"About three songs after you got here. Anyone in this place who bothers to listen gets our attention. Then we had the 'it couldn't be him' argument."

Joran decided he had an engaging, modest grin.

"I mean Anton just doesn't walk into somewhere you're playing, right? But it had to be." He shrugged, tipping his head to one side and brushing turquoise hair out of his brown eyes.

Joran nodded. Other performers were usually good at seeing past the stage makeup. This group was wearing quite a bit themselves and had opted for a startling look in the makeup as well as with the hair. "So why didn't you come over when the set was done?"

"You've got the same rights to a private night out as the next guy," was the chorus accompanied by a kaleidoscope of nodding hair.

Joran decided he liked these men. "That was decent of you. Now, down to business. Do you know Johnny Sun's 'My Laurion Love'?" That got him a rather offended 'of course'. It was one of those instant classics that got requested at least half a dozen times a week in every lounge on every planet.

"Great. Now, Mrail came up with a variation on the chorus that makes it work as an Ixunnga number. Here's what he did." Joran sang the alternate chorus as soft notes, not words, beating out the new tempo with his finger on the table. "Got it?"

"I think so. Correct me if I'm off." Their bandleader and keyboard player repeated the melody while the drummer beat it on the table, spot on. "By the way, I'm Andy. This is Fitch." He nodded at the bass player and lead tenor. "That's Kanji on percussion –"

"Kanji?" Joran asked. He had the feeling the name should mean something to him, but he didn't think he'd met the man. Kanji wasn't exactly someone you'd forget.

Kanji waved a hand at his sweatband. "Kanji letters. I've got a dozen of these with different letters so that's what they call me. My real name is Ron."

"Stick to Kanji," Joran advised. "It's memorable. Keep the sweat bands too."

Andy grinned. "He'd quit if we told him to get rid of them."

"Couldn't see the drums either, sweating like that," Fitch threw in.

Joran relaxed. It was comfortable banter.

"And this is Mikey." Andy nodded to the gentle giant. "So did we get the variation right?"

"You've got it. What do you think?"

"I like it, and it'll work for sure." That got nods from Kanji and Mikey, and a frown from Fitch, who would have to sing most of it.

Joran grinned. "Screws up the lyrics, doesn't it?"

Fitch nodded, lost in thought.

"You the type who likes to ad lib, or do you want my version?"

"Yours, please." It was going to be bad enough performing a request for Anton they hadn't rehearsed a hundred times or so. The idea of thinking up new words at the same time made him feel slightly sick.

"No problem." Then Joran frowned. "Let me amend that. Do you have a language clause in your contract?" That got him a snort from Kanji.

"In a place like this?"

Joran grinned. "All right, stupid question. So, how do you like this?"

The lyrics got him grins all around the table, except from Fitch, who forgot he was intimidated by Anton.

"You expect me to sing that?!"

Joran shrugged. "Suit yourself. It suits the music."

"Uh huh. And Johnny Sun's heard them?"

"Of course. I came up with them at a party at his house."

"And?" Mikey prompted, openly curious.

"Johnny laughed. Sinda came down on me pretty good though. That's one lady with no sense of humor." Joran shook his head.

"You wrote that about Sinda?" This time it was Andy. "Excuse this from a stranger, but are you suicidal at times?"

The guys laughed and Fitch explained, "He just married a redhead."

"They do seem to have a price tag," Joran agreed. "And of course it's about Sinda. Who else is Johnny all over when he gets the chance?"

"Look." It was Andy again. "I really hate to break this up, but we've got to get back on stage. If we're slow we get docked, and we can't afford it."

Joran nodded and rose. "Thanks." As the band climbed on stage he distinctly heard Mikey say 'I dare you!' to Fitch.

Fitch snapped back, "You want to hear it, you sing lead for this one!"

This should be good.

*****

Chapter 28

Joran returned to his table, and with a malicious grin at the business suit, said in a voice calculated to carry that far, "Ma'am, may I have this dance?" He gave Lindy his best formal bow, and extended a hand.

Lindy sighed. Oh well, I can always pretend I'm an actress whose leading man has decided to amuse himself by trying to get a rise out of her. She smiled sweetly. "Thank you, dear." After all, no one here really knew her. She'd recognized a few faces from charity parties. That was about it.

That 'dear' got her a look from Joran that said she'd just upped the ante. He led her right under the only spotlight, of course. As they got there the band started.

"Joran, this isn't an Ixunnga."

"It will be when they hit the chorus. Bojo rewrote it. Meanwhile, let's see if we can dance together." They could. Joran liked to be a strong lead, and he decided Lindy was one very good dancer, not that that surprised him. "All right Lindy. This is the basic step." He described it, then took her through it. "As for style, I'm supposed to be whispering sweet nothings in your ear. As it is, we'll settle for whispered instructions."

"Good."

"And you get style points for maintaining eye contact when I'm not whispering sweet nothings." His grin was challenging. "And you lose them if you burst out laughing."

She almost did too. That man loved to tease. "Joran, are you making these rules up as you go?"

"Would I do that?"

"Yes."

He was spared deciding if that even deserved an answer by the change of tempo. "And here we go."

Lindy found two strong hands at her waist as Joran closed the distance between them, pressing her hard to him. Lindy in turn did what she'd seen the girls on holovision do, put her arms roughly at Joran's elbow height, her forearms up his arms, her hands on his shoulders.

"You were watching that holovision. Good for you, now just follow my lead."

"I have a choice at this range?"

"Sure. You can get stepped on and have a broken toe if you'd sooner."

Lindy had expected the full front hip to hip contact, but she discovered Joran wasn't kidding about being stepped on. The dance step that had seemed simple when they were separated was now one tangle of legs, mostly sliding between each other. That took some working out by someone, she decided while she focused on keeping her feet intact.

"Joran. Did he just sing what I thought he did?" She risked a sideways glance at the tall lad with pink hair dyed to match a formal dress shirt.

"Probably. I rewrote the lyrics." Good for Mikey. His voice was excellent as lead singer for this sort of song too, sexy nuances.

"And Johnny Sun is speaking to you?"

"Lindy, that's unkind!"

"Style points Joran. You lose them if you laugh."

"You do, I don't." He was laughing now.

"I told you you were making the rules up as you go!" She was getting enough confidence about keeping her toes unbroken to relax, and the hip motion was easy. It was just a case of matching Joran's and following the pressure of his hands. The kids must love this, she decided. And speaking of kids – "Joran!"

"Mm?" It was unfocused. He was drifting to the music.

"Move that hand right now or I'll get even!"

He focused. His hand had definitely strayed. Quite a ways.

"I dare you to get even." He kept his hand where it was.

"I wouldn't." Lindy slid hers down to match where Joran's was on her lower hip and gave him a solid pinch.

He involuntarily stiffened and almost lost the rhythm. "I asked for that, didn't I?" His hand slid back up to her waist.

"Yes."

"You just have such great legs, Lindy."

"We aren't talking leg, Joran. Check the pinch mark when you get home."

He was laughing again, and decided a twirl was a good idea, if rather tricky pressed together the way they were.

It was, and Lindy concentrated on not tangling her legs in Joran's so badly they ended up in a sprawl on the floor. They came out of the twirl noticeably apart, which she didn't think was in the script, and gave Joran a questioning look. He looked as close to embarrassed as she'd ever seen him.

"Oops?" she suggested.

"Sorry Lindy. I've hit that before. I think it's the legs sliding around."

"Most likely," she agreed, although she might have voted for the hip motion he was using. That however, was not something she intended to debate on a public dance floor with Joran, which was exactly where he'd cheerfully debate it. So she said practically, "So, is it quits, carry on, or invent a new style? You've got an audience." He did too. Most of the room had decided they were more entertaining than conversation.

"I shrug if you do."

"So shrug."

Joran gave an elaborate shrug and re-closed the distance. "You're a great sport, Lindy."

"Thank you, Joran. What's next? More of the same?"

"Now I get to kiss you passionately."

"You do not! That was not on holovision and you're just making it up to make a scene for that man."

"I am not!" Actually, he was, but it wasn't uncommon at this stage of the dance either.

"Jo –"

Joran took the practical approach of smothering opposition until he decided he was really pushing his luck. "You really are a great sport, Lindy." He gave her ear a perfunctory lick for good measure, then his tongue came back exploring. "Hey, Lindy. How come your perfume tastes good? Usually I hate the stuff."

It was Lindy's turn to shrug. "How should I know? It's Celestial. Maybe it's because the dominant notes are citrus and spice."

"Mmm."

The tongue was tickling her neck now. "Joran, what are you doing?"

"Figuring out what spices."

"Buy yourself a bottle and leave my neck alone!"

"Spoilsport!" The song was essentially over. "If you're being a spoilsport I suppose you don't want to end this right."

"What's right?" She was wary again.

"You kiss me back. Ideally, it's a parted lip invitation to finish what started on the dance floor, but that doesn't go with the current circumstances."

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Lindy murmured as she ran a hand into Joran's hair and pulled a startled but willing Joran into another kiss.

He decided to simplify life on the spin that should accompany that finale. He simply picked her up and did his best to make them both dizzy. "Are you steady on your feet?" he asked solicitously as he put her down.

Lindy did not make the mistake of answering that before she'd tested it out. But standing seemed reasonably steady, the room wasn't spinning, and a trial step worked. "Seem to be."

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Joran's eyes were glowing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done something like this, not to forget, but just to have fun.

"Yes, it was."

It was fun too. Definitely not her style, but Joran loved crowds and clowning. And it was so good to see him simply living for a while, not thinking and brooding. As a widow she wanted to tell him that as a widower eventually things would get better, but she couldn't bring herself to speak for Joran. Their circumstances were far too different. She'd had so much – children, grandchildren, a city full of friends, her thoroughly enjoyable job - to see her through when she lost dear Brayden. But as far as she knew, except for Dreen and Bojo and maybe Johnny Sun, Joran was on his own now with Maillie dead. He'd never fathered a child, and Dreen had let slip once that Joran had been totally estranged from his family since he chose a career as a performer, and it had got worse with his increasing success. Also, he must be a prime target on everyone's eligible bachelor list even though he was still obviously far from that stage. No wonder he'd slipped into a wild partying crowd when Maillie died. It had gotten too wild though, so he'd ended up with almost nothing, not even the music he loved when his band had walked out on him.

"I'm serious, Lindy. You're wonderful."

He leaned forward to give her a kiss that was so fleeting it barely touched her lips, and was very tender. It was also the potential start to something they'd both thoroughly regret. "Thank you, Joran." Lindy touched his cheek, acknowledging the kiss, but not encouraging him. "Now, shouldn't we thank the band?" she said briskly. "I'm not a pro, but I thought that wasn't bad for a first try at an arrangement."

Lindy was right. Dumb move. Joran accepted the change of topic. "Actually, it was damned good. Those guys can play."

***

"Say, Lindy. That was quite the show!" It had taken Mikey about halfway through the dance to recognize Lindy. This wasn't the kind of place he expected to see her, and he had no idea she knew Anton. But then he had only been at her place a couple times.

Lindy looked at the spiky pink hair, the makeup, and the neon pink shirt, and didn't get anywhere. The amused eyes and the smile were familiar though ... It took a moment. "Mikey? I didn't recognize you with that hair! When did you change bands?" This would be his fourth or fifth. Lindy couldn't remember although Kati always had amusing stories about the various bands.

"About a month ago."

"Do you two know each other?" Joran mentally winced. Lindy hadn't said a thing about knowing the band.

"You've met my daughter-in-law Kati. Mikey's her brother."

"Oh oh! Lindy, did I just ruin your reputation with the family, clowning around out there?"

"That was clowning?" Mikey's eyes were round.

"Of course that was clowning!" Joran was firm. He didn't want Lindy to have to live this down.

"Man, what are you like when you're for serious?" Kanji demanded.

"Presumably he has the sense to behave himself," Lindy said, "but I wouldn't swear to it."

"Thank you, Lindy." Joran pretended offense, but he was only half following the teasing banter. He was looking at the beat up equipment on stage, and remembering the first couple bands he'd run at university.

Andy was watching his face. He wouldn't be a good band leader if he couldn't read faces. "Want to come up? I know we're not the caliber of backup your used to – but –" He shrugged apology and invitation.

"No." Joran was firm. "Publicity I don't need. But," he added partly on a rush of nostalgia, partly because of the look of disappointment the young man didn't quite hide, "I'd like to fool around for a while when this place closes – unless that would cause you grief on the domestic front?"

By the exchanged looks, it probably would, but he got a course of 'greats'. Obviously there were going to be a lot of upset spouses to placate in the morning, but he'd have made the same choice at that age.

"Then let's do it. If I take Lindy safely home and come back it should be about right."

*****

Chapter 29

Mikey shifted his weight, trying to decide just how much longer he should stand here. The wind was bitingly cold, and he'd already had to explain to one building security officer who knew him by sight, and to one police officer who did not know him, that no he was not soliciting, and no he was not loitering. No, he was not trying to line up prostitutes for the band. No, he was not waiting for a drug dealer. He was waiting for a representative from a music company who wanted to talk to the band after the show. The man had said he'd come back, and he had been too stunned and stupid to give him his call number. He had then had to agree he was most likely going to wait forever. Unfortunately they were probably right. Anton had most likely forgotten the idea five minutes after he left. Either that, or he hadn't been fooling around with Lindy. That brought a temporary smile, but after reflection Mikey decided to keep his mouth shut about that, not scandalize his prissy sister with the story.

He had also had to tell three groups of women and one man he wasn't buying anything. The women were obviously prostitutes. The man could have been a pimp, a prostitute, or a drug dealer. He didn't want to know which. Now another pair of women were rounding the far corner, looking at the traffic streaming past. Mikey kept his eyes straight ahead on the traffic, hoping they would take the hint and leave him alone. That was all he needed, to have Anton drive up while he was trying to brush off some hookers.

The women noticed Mikey, as intent on the traffic as they were and swore. The bastard had claimed the best spot on the street with that light and the partial wall breaking the wind. It was their spot, it had been for three months. Still, he was a pretty big guy and he didn't look good tempered at all. If they ended up shoving each other around and yelling, the building security guards would be on them and they'd all get run in. Better to live and let live, for one night anyways. They positioned themselves in the second-best spot, scanning the traffic, trying to make eye contact with the drivers and trying not to shiver.

Mikey was getting mesmerized focusing so hard on the traffic like that. His brain was numbing to the rhythm and starting to make it into a song. He was so lost in the new song that he didn't pay any attention to the taxi that pulled up closer to the women than him.

They noticed though, and turned with welcoming smiles as a tall black stepped out. Nice, very nice. He looked like money too. As the smaller woman took a step towards him, he looked down the street toward their spot, their spot mind and cupped his hands and yelled.

"Mikey. You half frozen yet?" The makeup was gone, but the pink hair was recognizable. Joran took a good look at the makeup free face as he approached and liked what he saw.

The women exchanged looks. Wouldn't you know. This just wasn't their night. Still, this would get that guy with his pink hair out of their spot for an hour or so.

***

"Sorry to keep you waiting, but the damned taxi driver didn't wait while I saw Lindy to her apartment, even when I told him there was a good tip in it." It had been too late at night to comfortably or safely walk to Lindy's, or back alone, even though they had walked to the restaurant and lounge earlier in the relatively mild dusk. "Then when I got down, besides him not being there, there wasn't one at any of the nearby stands either, so I had to wait while the doorman called one. Galaxy, either that apartment complex she lives in or the hotel across must be prime cheating territory."

Mikey interrupted his patiently activating the automated building security to ask, "How do you figure that?"

"What else causes a run on taxis after 2:00 in the morning? It's not a shift-work change time, and who's going to pay taxi rates to get to or from work anyway with good mass transit? And why would you get out of a nice warm bed and the thought of champagne breakfast unless you intended to head home to the loving whoever and try to fly a crisis at work?"

"Oh." The door opened and they stepped inside to a blast of warm air. Galaxy that wasn't a minute too soon! Another ten minutes and he would have been frozen solid. Mikey wondered first if he could play with numb fingers, and second how bands that regularly played outdoor concerts did it on really cold days even wearing those gloves.

"Personally I don't understand it," Joran continued. "I mean, why take the trouble to get married if you aren't going to be monogamous? I take cheating as an empiricism, but it seems wrong when it isn't the person getting the thrill that's at risk of getting hurt. The cheaters should stick to high risk sports." That morality lecture out of the way, he focused on the fact they were nearly at the lounge and he could hear music. It was unfamiliar, and he stopped, cocking his head to listen.

Hell! The guys would have to be working that new song of Fitch's just now. The music stopped. Kanji beat out a rhythm solo, then they backed up, and started again. They all knew that passage was wrong, but the fix wasn't obvious yet. To hide his embarrassment and to distract Anton, who was getting a little frown on his brow, Mikey said a little more loudly than he had intended, "We didn't know if you'd want anything, this time of night you know." Anton's frown had deepened so he hurried on, "But we were starved, so we ordered an extra pizza with six different toppings since none of us could remember ever hearing your favorite – if you even like pizza that is."

Pizza! Joran relaxed. For a moment there he thought it was an offer of drugs, and if so, talented kids or not he'd have turned around and walked away. It was a temptation he was not prepared to face right now. The rehab clinic had got him to admit that. But pizza, that was a different matter. Pizza, the universally available, usually edible, twenty four hour comfort food. How many thousand had he and his first two university bands consumed? These kids must be that age – and he'd better mentally clean up his language he reminded himself again. He'd slip up yet and say 'you kids'. That would have made him furious at that age. He had been sure he was a man, a man who knew exactly how to run his life. Well, he wished these young men, as he firmly made himself call them, enjoyment of that stage. The doubts and mistakes would come soon enough.

A smile replaced his frown. "Believe me, by now I've eaten every kind there is. I'm not fussy. When I was your age and living on the stuff I just carried a shaker of hot spices in my pouch and tuned up whatever I got." He pushed the door open and the music stopped. "You probably missed out, waiting outside though."

Mikey sniffed, then looked around. There wasn't the usual mess on the table. "Hey, what happened to the pizzas?"

"They're waiting for you to get them," Kanji announced. They never bothered the pizzeria to deliver. Normally they took turns on jobs like getting them, but they were still, in a friendly enough way, giving Mikey a shakedown as the new member. One of the main reasons they'd split with the last guy was he'd thought he was a real big shot. The rest of them knew he, and they, weren't.

"I called the owner, and he said he'd get them all ready, and to call and they'll be cooked by the time you get there." Kanji did the ordering since he was the pizza fanatic and very fussy about them. He knew the owner quite well by now, and that man understood pizza. Kanji transferred his gaze to Anton. He had to have heard them in the hall, but how much? "We thought they'd better be fresh and hot so we've been practicing."

"Right." Mikey cheerfully headed back to the door. The hot boxes might thaw out his hands. He knew he was getting a lot of the dirty work, but not all of it, so he didn't mind. He liked WinSome. Besides being talented, none of the guys were stuck on themselves. Mikey figured once they were sure he was staying they'd pitch in, equally shares on the chores.

Joran swung himself up on the stage. For a moment he just stood there. It felt good. So good. He hesitated a moment, then decided there was no used dissembling. They all knew he wasn't deaf. "Was that one of yours you were working on when I came in? It sounded like you're polishing up a rough spot."

Andy nodded, and Fitch added candidly, "More than polishing. It came into my head the other night, but that part's all wrong. We've been struggling."

Joran had figured that out in the hallway, and he knew how to turn it around, but he kept his mouth shut. They'd figure it out for themselves, and those first few songs that came so hard were precious. Instead he said, "You'll get there and it sounded worth the work. Have you got any good enough for me to listen to when Mikey gets back?"

"No," Andy said firmly. They had two others, one of his, one of Fitch's, but none ready for this caliber of critic.

Joran accepted that. In fact, it was the kind of professionalism he preferred over hearing amateur efforts. "So, while we're waiting for Mikey, do you want me to show you a more complicated version of that variation Mrail did? I kept things simple earlier, because the change of rhythm was enough for you to have to pick up on one run like that. But this is real smooth and sexy." He took the rapidly vacated seat at the keyboard.

"This might work too." Before he had time to hesitate, Joran launched into a variation of Bojo's rework that had come into his head while he was sitting there playing. It was only a minor variation, but it had been spontaneous, the first sign that the block he'd had since Maillie died would ever lift. He was glad his synesthesia was strong tonight, that the colors his mind laid over the white keys were brilliant, not barely there. Dancing with Lindy the synesthesia had started, strong enough that he wanted to tell WinSome they were all wearing wrong colors. He hadn't though. They'd have thought he was nuts. Now the synesthesia made it possible to play despite the tears blurring his vision. Joran kept his head bent, shielding what might be showing from the band as well as he could with his hair. Andy wouldn't be able to see his face. He was standing beside him, totally intent on his hands. Fitch was just sitting there though, openly staring. So was Kanji, although his hands insisted on being busy, softly beating out an Ixunnga with his silk tassel on one of the larger drums.

Mikey returned, carrying a stack of pizzas, an industrial restaurant sized spice shaker carefully balanced on top. As Joran shifted to a second variation, he just stood there, staring. How could he just do that? It would take them months to come up with something like that. No wonder no one could touch him.

"I could hear you down the hall. You mind playing those variations again once we're fed? I'm starved."

***

Joran started the video. As he'd expected, it was the song he'd heard from the corridor. But now he was really glad he hadn't helped them. They'd almost started over, stripped the song right down to basics, and reworked it. The result was clean, fresh, crisp, and a sound he would never have thought of in a million years. What would he have done to it? He would have taken out the rough spots – he could still remember every note of that first version, and – Joran played out his version in his head. And he listened to the demo again, swore, and froze it with the band playing the final chord.

He walked not to the balcony overlooking the bay, but to a smaller one that overlooked the town. How many people lived here in Crescent Bay, lived on Gingezel, lived on the inhabited planets in the galaxy? No doubt he'd heard numbers, how many billions of billions, but he couldn't remember. Just make it a lot, an awful lot. And how many of them were blessed with a gift of true creativity? More than you'd expect, he was learning. Creativity came in surprising packages. But while it was more than you'd expect, it wasn't many. And how many did anything with that gift? What was he doing with his gift? He'd learned that his music was a gift, truly a gift, when it had disappeared when Maillie died. But what had he done with it? What would he do with it now that it had returned?

If he'd touched that song, he'd have made it a success, a standard Anton commercial success, and totally, totally ruined it. Was that what he was becoming, a formula writer, geared to commercial success? There had been standing ovations at the concert but were they earned? Was there a song he'd written on his new album, other than M's song, that was as good as what he had just heard? Joran sat down on a lounger and hugged his knees. Slowly his eyes filled with tears.

*****

Chapter 30

What now? Bojo hastily swallowed a bite of sweet roll. Joran was standing at the end of the walkway from the hotel to the beach, obviously looking for him as he scanned the beach. "Excuse me Brys. I'd better go see what Joran wants." If he had walked over from his hotel rather than just call, it must be important. Well, at least important in Joran's eyes, Bojo amended. Then as a Brys started to put her uneaten peach in the bag Bojo added, "Finish your breakfast. I won't be long."

Brys hesitated. Although he was too kind to say so, Brys knew Bojo was on a gentle campaign to help her with her agoraphobia and to get her more relaxed by herself away from the hotel. "All right." She took another bite of her roll, took his roll from him, put it carefully in the bag, and gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. Her Bojo. It still didn't seem real.

Good. Brys really was trying. Bojo rose and crossed the stretch of white sand to where Joran was standing.

"Those idiots at Johnny's studio! They have the nerve to say we're going to pay full rates for a Johnny Sun performance! And they are threatening to sue both AntonCorp and Johnny for an unauthorized recording! They won't even discuss his breaking his contract!"

Bojo listened with a deepening frown as Joran kept talking, both hands waving. It certainly had moved to the studio heads backed by lawyers stage quickly, and not a single one of them was being even vaguely cooperative. It looked like they were going to have to involve Juttar, bad timing or not. They were just getting into the meat of the problems when Joran, who could see Brys and the beach beyond her, stopped mid-sentence.

"I think you have a problem."

Two of the Tamara Octagla team further down the beach had defected. Joran had been half watching the team as they did calisthenics to Trevarr's pacing. They were all showing an increasing lack of enthusiasm. After scanning the beach the defectors were making a direct line for the most attractive distraction, Brys. Joran had to admit she looked lovely this morning. Her hair was loose and blowing slightly in the breeze, with the pale blond highlights she had added to go to the concert catching the morning sun. The cold front the night of the concert had been followed by a heatwave, and for the beach she was wearing a hot pink sun top and blue shorts obviously bought by Bojo, not Brys. No way would Brys voluntarily wear that skimpy a top or that high cut shorts. Sitting the way she was she looked all legs.

Joran could empathize with the guys. He squinted into the sun glare. He would guess by the small size that Superstud was one of them. His eyes moved on to the group that were still working out. Trevarr was standing watching the defectors backs with his hands on his hips. That did not bode well for the pair when they got back to the Sports Medicine Clinic.

A problem? What Joran was talking about? Bojo turned, then stood for a moment shading his eyes and trying to make out the pair clearly against the glare of the sun and the lake.

"Damn! It would have to be Superstud and Sidekick." Superstud was the nickname commonly attached to Daron Soimvell, galactic superstar and the first string center on the Tamara team. Sidekick was Roban Barranb, insider left-winger on the same line, and Daron's closest friend.

Joran frowned. Bojo was just watching. "Aren't you going to do anything?"

"Not unless they upset Brys. They're harmless."

Right. Superstud was about as harmless as a Pendraean tigelera, but Joran knew what Bojo meant. Once Maillie had made her choice between him and Johnny, he had never once worried about her even when she was home alone for months. For that matter he had never looked at another woman.

Bojo shifted to where he could keep an eye on things. "What do you think the response would be if we offer ..."

The discussion became technical and legal until Joran moved from being upset to losing his temper.

"This is ridiculous! Just call them Bojo. Ask which they would sooner do, lose one artist or the whole damned studio! And really rub their noses into the takeover we are doing with Dellmaice Power."

Bojo stared, then started to frown.

Joran grinned. "No, that wasn't drugs talking. I discovered that the tough stance can be beneficial. It worked with Ghen." His grin broadened with the memory.

"It's worth a try". Bojo shrugged and wondered what Joran would do if they called his bluff. By the look on his face, he'd attempt the takeover. Then his mind was occupied by a more immediate problem.

"Okay. That's it! They just scared her." Brys was suddenly in her closed posture, hugging her knees to her chest. "Sorry Joran." Bojo headed towards the threesome at a trot, wondering what Superstud had just done. Knowing Brys, it might not be much of anything.

***

"When you get right into the cove where the horses are, there is a stream flowing through a meadow. I'd wanted to see a waterfall, but there wasn't one. I don't know, are there any on the coast near here?" The small dark-haired man had asked her if she sailed. Maybe this was good enough, telling him about being out in one of the big yachts for a trip down the coast.

Her question about waterfalls required a response, at least 'I don't know', and there wasn't one. Maybe she was boring them. Brys braved a quick look at the sandy haired quiet man who was the least intimidating. He was just sitting there watching her, apparently not paying the least bit of attention to what she was saying. But she wasn't sure about that because he never answered his friend either. She quickly averted her eyes then stole a look at the dark haired one through her lashes. As she accidentally caught his eyes, he smiled. Brys was experienced enough now to be pretty sure she didn't like that smile. What was she supposed to do?

Brys turned her attention back to the water, tucked her legs up close, and hugged herself as she assessed the options. Surely they wouldn't really bother her here on the beach with people all around. So the question was how to get rid of them. Would they just get bored and go away if she stopped talking and ignored them? Should she get up and leave, or would they follow her? Where was Bojo anyways? She would have to twist way around to see if he and Joran had gone in, and she didn't want to do that. The dark haired man was sitting too close and she would touch him.

It took Daron a moment to realize this woman had stopped talking since he hadn't really been paying attention. Well, obviously this was his cue to say something. But between the way she was hugging her knees and the cut of the shorts she was wearing, there had been a rather distracting view of lower hip. Her legs were lovely too, just the way he liked them. And on her ankle was an unusual tattoo like an anklet. It looked new with the skin a bit red and irritated.

"Motor yachts are fine, but to really explore the coast you need a sailboat. Roban and I are both good sailors." He had enjoyed teaching farm boy Roban in the season break last year. "Would you like to go out with us?"

"Are these two clowns giving you trouble?"

Brys started at Bojo's voice behind her, bumped into the dark haired man, and jerked back. Thank goodness Bojo was here!

He'd better keep walking to where Brys could see him. Bojo personally wasn't the least bit intimidated by either of the two jocks, and it might be amusing to run them off. Superstud had a quick temper though, and a mouth. Sidekick was polite and docile on his own, but he tended to follow Superstud's lead when he was with him. So while it might amuse him, the likely exchange of insults would probably terrify Brys. And being realistic, running them off wouldn't do any good. Daron and Roban would just come back sometime when he wasn't around, and hunt until they found Brys. Daron hadn't so much as taking his eyes off her to look at him. Roban had given him a quick dismissive glance with no recognition in it and immediately turned back to Brys. So he had better teach Brys how to handle the pair.

"It's a public beach, buddy!" Daron announced without looking up.

"I never said it wasn't, Superstud," Bojo said easily. "I just wanted to make sure you and Roban aren't giving Brys a bad time." He tried to catch her eye and give her a reassuring smile but he was still too far back. "So move your ass a meter or so Superstud, so I can step past." Daron twisted around at that, and he got a hostile hostile glare. It looked like Daron might be inclined to shift to an 'I think I'll make something out of this' mood.

The complete absence of recognition was interesting though. Daron should have known him between chance meetings on space stations that usually turned into going for a drink, the night Daron and Roban had provided muscle at that one party of Joran's back when Joran had his serious drug problem, and the occasional pickup Octagla game they played together. And he was only wearing a fraction of the makeup he had worn on stage.

"Bojo? Bojo Camrail?" Roban asked uncertainly, judging by voice not looks.

Bojo nodded.

"I didn't recognize you," Roban said as he moved to to let Bojo past. Daron obviously wasn't budging. He'd never seen Bojo looking relaxed and happy like this, and his face was drastically different. But how? "Did you go in for another round of reconstruction after all?"

Stepping past, Bojo sat down in the vacated space on the other side of Brys and put a protective arm around her. Superstud could have at least moved a couple millimeters. "No, it's strictly paint pots." He lifted up his hair to show the pale old scars.

"Impressive." All Octagla players dealt with facial injuries of varying severity.

Bojo acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. "Brys, you are an Octagla fan. It's hard to recognize them off court, but these two are members of the Tamaran Octagla team."

"Oh!"

The wide-eyed pleased look went down very well with Daron and Roban.

"This dark-haired nuisance is Daron, their center. He thinks he's great. Unfortunately he actually is, so he's a bit hard to put up with at times. He's known as Superstud to most of his friends and all of his enemies - all jealous males. The reason has to be obvious by now. He's probably been majorly coming on to you." Bojo turned to Brys with a reassuring smile. "If I were you, be bothered by that. It's become a habit with him." Out of the corner of his eye, Bojo saw Roban's hand suddenly cover his mouth and heard a rather fake sounding cough. Daron looked more amused than offended.

"The quiet blond one is Roban, Tamara's inside left-winger." Bojo did not use the common nickname Sidekick. It was as accurate as Superstud, but not meant to be complementary, and he knew Roban hated it. "He has the best moves the league has seen in a decade or so, on the court that is. Off the court the honors go to Superstud."

"Lay off, Camrail" Daron gave him an amused grin.

*****

Chapter 31

"Daron and Roban, this is Brys Toleman. First off, and please listen very carefully, Superstud, she's my girlfriend, fiancée to be accurate."

As far as Bojo was concerned, with the tattoos yesterday and an application filed to register their union, they were now legally espoused. But he had finally got it out of Brys that she wouldn't think so until there were the appropriate ceremonies on Ennup 10, attended by both families. That would be a very interesting event. The two sets of parents would find they had a lot in common - they were both furious. Unconsciously his hand went down to his own tattoo, an exact duplicate of the one Brys was wearing.

Roban's eyes followed the motion, and the exact match of the tattoos didn't escape him although he didn't know any details of the meaning in Bojo's culture. Presumably they meant something very serious though. Bojo would not follow a fad. "Relax, I think even Daron can figure that out." Besides the tattoos, this pretty Brys was snuggled as close to Bojo as she could get.

So, Bojo thought, SideKick is learning to talk. He waited for the inevitable reaction from Superstud to this warning off, to say nothing of that bit of mouth from his friend. But it didn't come, all that happened was that he got a lazy smile.

"I hear you. And by the way, congratulations." Daron had no intentions of upsetting Bojo by going after his woman, even though he usually took this situation as a challenge. Bojo was a nice guy, quiet, soft-spoken, someone you could talk to when you were feeling lonely or in trouble. But more importantly three sources he really listened to, his father, his mother, and Ghen Kulgalu had seriously talked to him before he took on the job of being an enforcer at Joran's party. They had made sure Daron understood that anyone who used the fact Bojo was a nice guy against him and tried to take advantage of him was in for a very very nasty surprise. Given the sources of the information he was not going to test his luck.

It was that easy? Bojo gave Daron a long look, shrugged, and turned to Roban."How is the hand coming?" Roban's hand had been shattered winning the playoffs and had been rebuilt. Trevarr was trying to bring full function back.

Roban made a face. Bojo extended his own strong, supple hand and after a moment's hesitation Roban extended his own, placing it in Bojo's.

"Can I use pressure? Is it safe?"

"Oh yeah, it's safe. It just doesn't work."

Bojo tested the strength. There was nothing so bad that it couldn't be rebuilt. "That's not bad."

"It's the motion."

Bojo released Roban's hand and put his own through the flexibility exercises he used as a keyboard player while Roban tried to follow. Bojo could see why Roban was not optimistic. "What are the specialists saying?"

"Six months." Roban's voice was leaden.

"Well, don't give up yet. I remember when I was first smashed up and my jaw was immobilized and I was being fed through tubes. All I wanted to do was hide in my music, but I would stare at my keyboard and my brain didn't know what those white and black things were.

"Besides, I know you're proud of that one pass no one else can figure out how you do, but a lot of your other good moves don't use that hand as much, so you can learn to compensate." Bojo knew both from watching the pro games, and from playing pickup with him that Roban could pass either side equally well. "I had to totally relearn how to play, and it came out different. I listen to cuts from before my accident and now, and I can't say which is best. They're just different. If anyone can bring that hand along, Trevarr can."

Daron knew that expression on Roban's face. Bojo meant well and he'd never heard him open up about his own problems like this before, but Roban wasn't ready. He had better intervene.

"Not Trevarr, Mai." A smile lit up his face.

Mai? Bojo had the feeling he should know that name. He frowned.

"The tiny Oriental at the clinic with the cute baby."

"Oh, that one!" She had an even cuter three-year-old, and was Trevarr's partner. "What has she got to do with Octagla?"

"Another sucker! I made that mistake too, last week. Trevarr tells Larr and me we're going up to the space station to maintain our free-fall reflexes."

Larr was a journeyman, a utility player on the team. While not outstanding like Daron and Roban, he was a solid experienced player who had done his time on pretty well every team in the league. He was a bigger man than Roban, big enough he could slip back and help out the defense in a crisis, but usually he played a wing position. His appearance was striking combining black skin from his father and blond hair from his mother. He was friendly, outgoing, and good-natured as long as no one mentioned his hall of fame father.

Daron shifted a bit away from Brys so he could see Bojo's face. "Going up to the space station was great, way overdue. We needed that after all this damned sand. So we pack our stuff and who is waiting at the spaceport but Mai. So we think she's the one with the light schedule and she's got a list of what to do from Coach Isley or Trevarr.

"We suit up and go into the court and there is Mai waiting for us, all suited up. The cutest little thing you've ever seen! Well, Larr and I smile at each other. I mean, everybody has fantasies about playing Octagla right? So we're thinking we'll play along and humor her." Daron made a disgusted face. "We should have taken a really good look at just how beaten up that stick of hers was.

"She gets us doing a standard free-fall passing drill and she watches. Then she gets us doing wall work and joins us, saying to lob the passes to her and she'll fire them back and stretch us a bit. So Larr lobs one to her, making sure it lands in the center of her net because he doesn't think she can catch it. Whomp! it's coming at me and talk about stretching us! It's wild enough I almost lose footing trying to reach it. I lob it back right into her net. Whomp! Larr almost loses his head. We looked each other. I figure she's so out of it she's dangerous. But she's also so damned cute, so we keep it up.

"Then she says enough of that. We sure weren't going to argue. I had pulled muscles I felt for a week. She says it's free-fall time again, the same passing drill, but she'll run interference trying to block me. All right, I figured that means she's just going to position herself close to me so I have to throw and catch around her. I have the ball, and that's what happens on my pass to Larr. Then I notice she's closing in. Fine... That makes it harder for Larr. Then he's passing and I'm watching the ball not Mai. All of a sudden I get the sweetest little hip check that starts me rotating and I miss the pass. Of course Larr is laughing his head off."

Daron was grinning at himself. "We're keeping it up, and I'm reassessing my options fast. This woman is a nuisance. I don't want to hurt her and she is crowding so close I can't pass around her. If I try to reach past she checks the ball out of my stick. Receiving isn't much better. There hasn't been anything fancy after that hip check but there have been a few crosschecks that Larr thought were pretty funny. So I'm getting more than a little cross. I sign to Larr the pass I want. It's one we use when I'm getting overcrowded, and maybe if she looks bad she'll back off. But to catch this one I have to really focus on Larr for a second or so, and just as he throws part of my mind says I can't see Mai. The rest says good, it's tired of her.

"A split-second before I net the ball I get this check from the rear that almost knocks my teeth loose, and of course the pass goes right past. Then there is Mai giving me this dead serious lecture about how I can't lose focus like that. If she'd made a dirty check, I could have been hurt. Dirty?! That little beauty she gave me would have got her twenty minutes even on a night when the both referees were blind. Of course Larr thinks it's hysterical.

"Mai says that's enough. She'll work Larr now. I'm figuring that's one real good idea, because I've never hit a woman in my life, but another check like that and she's going to get her bell rung but good. Maybe Larr won't find the receiving end so funny.

"So she gets over there, and I'm settling in to watch the show. Then it's say what time. She isn't covering Larr. He's covering her and she is going to pass to me. Now, I'm asking myself, where's the joy in that for me? But I cheer up once we get going. She's really fast, and he's being the gentleman. If he can't do a really clean, gentle stick check, he won't check. So he's not managing much, and he's getting pretty hot under the collar.

"Then Mai catches my eye and gives me some sign. I don't know what the hell it means, but it's obviously heads up time. She makes this deke out move that Roban here would be proud of and Larr suckers. As soon as he has momentum she's twisting herself and the stick for a totally different shot while he floats past looking like an idiot. Not only that but somehow on the follow-through, and we went over the recordings for days and we still don't know how she did it, she just 'accidentally' butt ends him in the solar plexus. Now I'm the one laughing my head off.

"Mai decides that's it for the day which is just as well because Larr is doubled up just barely breathing. On the way down planet-side we ask her where she learned to play like that. It turns out she was center for the Pendrae Nebula in their planetary pro women's league." Pendrae and Tamara consistently led the galaxy at Octagla. "She had the offer to go galactic pro, but she decided she didn't want the interplanetary travel schedule. She said she had seen too much of that when her brother was a pro. So of course we have to ask who, and she says Torin. Torin! If you can believe it! I mean Torin has to be the best center ever! No one else has been a Hall of Fame inductee at the end of his third year." Who knew where he would have ended up if he hadn't got his neck broken during a slingshot play. "I had never made the connection since Mai has taken her husband's name. But when I was about seventeen I hero-worshiped that guy. He was the best, dirty too. No wonder Mai plays like she does."

Daron stopped abruptly. He had almost said too bad Torin only lasted three and a half years before he was totaled. That was not what Roban needed to hear.

There was no awkward pause because Bojo, looking past Superstud and Sidekick, forcibly said, "Damn!!"

*****

Chapter 32

Trevarr decided to take a break. As soon as he flopped down on his back on the sand, the team decided to see just what was worth Daron and Roban risking Trevarr's wrath. They were now coming down the beach, making a considerable racket in the process. Bojo gave Brys a reassuring hug.

"It looks like you're getting to meet the whole Tamaran team, not just these two clowns."

The introductions took a while, then there was a disjointed conversation consisting of a mix of questions to Brys and speculation on how much trouble Daron and Roban were in. Bojo patiently answered the questions because Brys was flatly refusing to open her mouth in this sized crowd.

"Trevarr's all right," Superstud insisted. "He'll let us know he's boss, but he's not the type to get mean or nasty about it."

"I hope you're right." Larr was looking down at the beach to where Trevarr had decided that as far as he was concerned that had been all the break they needed. He was walking their way and he looked mad.

Daron and Roban exchanged nervous looks and stood up, walking slightly beyond the group in Trevarr's direction.

Trevarr took his time, taking a good look at the pair. He was angry with them for sure, but mostly he was deciding how much of a problem he had on his hands. He knew and they knew that every last team member could buy a few dozen of him and never notice the cost. That could complicate the fact that his job was to get them in shape for the season, kicking and screaming all the way if necessary. And the new season was approaching fast now. He had to know if he had an open rebellion on his hands, or if Daron was just goofing off. He wasn't particularly worried about Roban.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourselves?"

"It was time for a break, Trevarr. Besides," Superstud smiled back at Brys, "the scenery was distracting."

"I bloody well set the breaks, not you, Superstud!" Trevarr clenched his fists on his hips. "And damned if I'm moving sessions inside because you have an attention deficit problem. Do you both hear me?" So far he wasn't getting a feel for Daron. Just that cocky smile.

Roban exchanged a look with Daron that was worried this time, not just nervous. This was the first season Trevarr had conditioned them and they hadn't expected the good natured Trevarr to be quite so angry. Roban tried to catch Trevarr's eyes as he nodded acquiescence, unsure what to say.

Trevarr totally ignored him, focusing on Daron. "Do you damned well hear me, Superstud?" Trevarr knew the nickname but hadn't used it until today. Now he loaded the term with sarcasm. He wasn't yelling, but he made sure the whole team heard him.

"I hear you," Daron said quietly.

Trevarr's expression didn't change, but he heaved a mental sigh of relief. There hadn't been a fight. No delay in Daron's response, no seeing who could win the eye contact game. Daron had just been pushing his luck like he always did. "Roban?"

"I hear you." He was starting to seriously regret this. He liked Trevarr, and was relying on his help to retrain his hand. Like Bojo said, if anyone could, it was Trevarr.

"Good. Since you have both had such a nice rest, you won't mind a little run in the sand. It's good for your legs. See that boat down there?" He pointed to one at the far end of the beach. "I want you to run - and I mean run - to it and back. Then come on up to the clinic. The rest of us aren't wasting time waiting on you. And no goofing off! If by the tremors in your legs and the way you're sweating when you get back to the clinic I think you've haven't been running, you'll do a shift on the treadmills instead."

"Come on, Trevarr! That boat is in the next county." It was a routine protest, one expected by his teammates. Actually Daron thought Trevarr was being fair enough. Besides, you needed legs like iron to play Octagla with the weird wall stride of one foot always stuck down, to say nothing of the strength it took to launch yourself free of the wall to mid-court with any kind of velocity.

"Tough." Trevarr recognized the complaint for what it was and didn't escalate the conflict. "Move it."

They took off at an easy run.

"Pick it up."

There was a marginal increase in speed.

Trevarr cupped his hands and yelled, "I said move ass!"

This time Roban really picked up his pace. Daron lagged behind to shout something over his shoulder that probably fortunately didn't carry. Then he took off after his friend. He kept going past Roban, turning it into a race. Trevarr watched for a minute then turned to the team.

"Okay. It's back to the clinic for the rest of you. Sprint to the edge of the sand. I'll give you that much head start then lap you and set the pace to the clinic at a lope."

That got the usual grumbling. Trevarr had sited the clinic what he, as a marathon runner, considered a nice up hill run from the beach. The team didn't exactly agree with him, or on what was an easy lope.

Still, they set off, all except Maras. He knew he was not allowed to run or even walk that far yet. He would be driven back to the clinic just like he had been driven down, and he would be put in that hot tub again. Maras looked wistfully around the beach. He was a big black, big even for an Octagla defenseman. Tamara was the first team that had used him as anything other than an enforcer and fighter. He'd liked that because he loved Octagla. The guys were mostly all right to him too. Maras knew he didn't fit. He wasn't a rich man's son like Daron, or from an Octagla family like Larr. He wasn't even smart. He was just a big dumb nobody who had caught the eye of a coach when he was fourteen because he was already bigger than most eighteen-year-olds.

And now, he thought bitterly, just when things was better than he'd ever thought they could be, he'd fucked up and ruined his leg. He hated that. He had hated his stupidity. He had hated the hospital, the clinics, the pity.

But somehow, today were different. He didn't hate anything. It sure were a pretty day. There were lots of people already, and the shoreline had clusters of children playing in the water. He liked kids. "Trevarr..." It was tentative. Trevarr were already pissed, and Maras didn't want him mad at him again. He was finally getting it through his head that Trevarr's patient approach to his leg was the right one.

"Yes Maras?"

"You going to put me in that tub again?"

"That's right, Maras." Trevarr said testily. He was getting tired of the ongoing battle of wills. Maras had been a pain since he set foot in the clinic.

"Can I just go sit in the lake instead? Get some rays and watch the kids? I won't do nothing I'm not supposed to."

Trevarr blinked and stared. It was the first time he had seen Maras anything but hostile or aggressive. The face that stared back at him was calm though, if a little nervous. There was even a hint of a smile as shouts from the waterline caught Maras' attention and he turned to watch a pair of blond teenage boys, obviously brothers, starting a really noisy water fight that was showing signs of being designed to drench some girls sunning on the beach a little further along.

Well I'll be damned. Miracles do happen. Feeling more optimistic than he had all morning Trevarr said, "That's a good idea, Maras. Just take the walking in stages. Okay?"

Maras nodded solemnly. Now that he were buying into Trevarr's approach he were going to do it right. "How about I go there first?" Maras pointed to a cluster of empty chairs. "An' I sit and check out that sand castle?"

Three children, a chubby little girl of eight wearing a pink swimsuit and with brown braids that were already coming undone, a cocoa colored lad perhaps a year older wearing cutoffs, and another lad who was so skinny it was hard to place his age but was definitely mongrel, were building an elaborate structure complete with turrets and a water filled moat.

"Then I can take a chair into the lake and sit."

Trevarr took time to judge the distance. "The lake is shallow here. That's why they direct all the kids here. Walk out in two stages. Do you want me to have the hotel bring you lunch there?"

One of his rare grins spread across Maras's face. The idea of lunch on a floating tray out in the lake sure sounded good after nothing but hospital rooms and clinics and being inside hotels. There might even be fish. Nah. The kids would've scared most of them off. Fish was good though. One vacation on Laurion he was snorkeling and some fish come up to see what he was doing. They were cute little buggers, yellow and orange about the size of a kid's fist. They decided to check him out, not biting or nothing, just poking. It had tickled, and it was one of his happiest memories.

"Thanks." Maras nodded, hair tubes flashing in the sun. He turned to Bojo, solemnly extending a massive hand. "Real good you're being engaged, Bojo."

"Thanks Maras."

Maras hesitated, looking at Brys, not sure what to do. It was real nice Bojo found himself a nice girl. Maras liked Bojo. He never frosted you. "It were real nice to meet you." Maras started to extend his hand, hesitated and pulled it back.

To Bojo's surprise, Brys extended her own. "It was nice to meet you too, Maras."

Maras engulfed her hand between the two of his for a moment, then turned and began his slow painful way towards the chairs and the children.

Once Maras was out of earshot Trevarr turned to Brys and said in a low voice, "Brys, I'm sorry Superstud came and made a nuisance of himself. It's just about impossible to ride herd on that whole team at once."

"That's all right." Brys was getting used to Trevarr now that he came along to the computing office most nights when Wayd made his check on how the night staff was doing. He usually came over and visited so it wouldn't seem like he was watching Wayd. Brys had been tongue-tied the first few nights, then relaxed. She braved a question. "Is Superstud really what everyone calls him?" She had thought Bojo had just been teasing Daron.

"It seems to be. I have no idea if it's sarcasm or if it's warranted."

"Oh, it's warranted."

"Thanks for the warning, Bojo." Trevarr wasn't exactly responsible for the team after hours, but he was responsible for more or less keeping them in line until Coach Isley arrived. He took another look at Daron and Roban who were still racing each other flat-out. "They'll feel that," he observed. Superstud was all right, just a little full of himself at times. He looked the other way. The team was nowhere in sight. "Time to go."

He set out after the team with what appeared to be an effortless lope that would rapidly close the distance.

"Where did he learn to run like that?" Bojo asked in admiration, not expecting an answer.

"He's a marathoner." Brys was pleased to know something Bojo didn't. "He's entered in one in six weeks, and is that ever making Wayd cranky."

"Why?"

"Trevarr says he isn't getting enough training with the team here, so he's got Wayd up an hour early every morning to run with him."

"That would do it," Bojo agreed. They seemed to be a happy couple, but they sure had different temperaments and likes. "Look Brys, I'm sorry, but I think I'd better go help Joran sort out the next snag with Johnny Sun." Otherwise Joran would make the call, threaten a takeover, lose his temper when they laughed at him, and actually try one. "Then I'm due for a session with Chett and Hoffner." They were at a critical timing stage on the Dellmaice takeover. "How about I walk you back to your room?"

Brys looked up and down the beach. It was a gorgeous day, and she wasn't even vaguely sleepy. If she went back to her room, she would just worry about Dreen. Her eyes came to rest on Maras' broad back. He wasn't quite at the sandcastle yet, but the children had noticed him and were pointing and whispering. Somehow he looked incredibly vulnerable as he plodded along dragging one leg.

"Maybe I could just go and help Maras? Get him settled in his chair, get him things if he needs them? It might be fun to sit in the water too and watch the kids." Brys gave a tentative smile. It was something Bojo had never mentioned, whether or not he even liked kids.

Bojo's mind however was largely on Joran and how to keep both the takeover and the Johnny Sun problems under control, and he missed this very oblique opportunity for a first discussion of whether or not to have a family, something he had wanted for years but had given up dreaming of. He did hear, or at least thought he'd heard that she wanted to go take care of Maras, when she was so nervous outside she couldn't take care of herself. "Take care of Maras?" he asked disbelievingly.

Brys immediately withdrew. "I don't have to."

"But you'd like to." Bojo stroked her hair. "I think it's very nice of you. You surprised me, that's all. I mean, you just met him." He couldn't say he couldn't imagine her trotting down the beach to fetch a towel or drinks.

Brys looked to where Maras has stopped his progress. The little cocoa boy was standing in front of him and they seemed in earnest conversation. She shrugged. "He just seems so lonely."

So Brys was the kind who would do things for strays that she wouldn't do for herself. Bojo wasn't surprised. He thought about Maras for a moment, usually on the fringe of any crowd like Brys was. He said gently, "He probably is and you're sweet."

*****

Chapter 33

"Sorry about that!" Bojo said as he let himself in. "Joran?" There was no reply. He tried louder. "Joran!" Nothing. Well he hadn't had time to go far. Bojo started to prowl through the places in the apartment Joran usually lost himself in. Unfortunately since it occupied the entire top floor of the hotel, there were a lot of places. On his way past the media center he noticed the image of a band and paused for a moment frowning. Should he know them? Bojo shrugged and kept searching.

"There you are." Joran was on the small balcony overlooking town, sitting sideways on a wicker two seater. His arms were around his knees like Brys in her closed posture.

"Is Brys okay?"

"Yeah." Bojo was bemused. "Believe it or not she just met the whole Tamara Octagla team." He grinned. "I suppose it was inevitable that the rest of the guys would come down as soon as Trevarr took a break."

Joran frowned, alarmed. "How did she hold up?"

"Kind of dazed, shaking like a leaf but she stuck it out. Then when Trevarr came to round them up, Maras wanted to go soak that bad leg of his in the lake." Bojo shook his head. "Brys decided he needed help, so she is sitting in the lake with him. I've never got her into the water!"

Joran grinned. "Better watch out!"

"I'm sweating."

"So what happened to Superstud and Sidekick?"

"They are sweating. Trevarr has them running the length of the beach like good boys. Have you called Johnny's studio back?"

"Huh?" Joran had completely forgotten about Johnny.

"All right," Bojo said patiently. "What have you been doing?"

"Watching a demo. Bojo have I copped out?" Joran asked, his face intense. "Do I just write junk now?"

Bojo shook his head. "M's song is the best you've ever done."

"I know. It was straight from the heart. I think instinctively that was why I recorded it so fast, before I ruined it. But on the rest of the album, the only good stuff, really good stuff is yours."

Bojo didn't argue. He didn't totally agree with Joran, but he didn't totally disagree either. It was hard to stay fresh. Tricks became automatic. But he didn't want to pull Joran down, not when he was finally composing again. "So who is so good you got the attack of conscience?"

Joran's face brightened. "Their name is WinSome. You've got to hear them! And to think we haven't known about talent like that when he was underfoot!"

"Who Joran?"

"Mikey." Then at the blank look on Bojo's face "Lindy's daughter-in-law's brother."

Bojo placed Lindy's son anyways. "Lindy's son \- the guy married to the girl with no kids yet, right?" He identified Lindy's children by how many grandkids they brought in the door with them. "I don't think I've heard about a brother called Mikey."

"He looks like his sister, blond, but he's a really big guy. The last time I saw him his hair was pink. His band was going for the shock look. But he's blond again and slimmed down for the demo."

Bojo was starting to piece together the conversation. "The band frozen on your media center? You've heard them before?"

"At a flashy booze and mistress club Lindy and I ended up at by mistake. They were only doing the standard covers, not to say they weren't damned good! Lindy interfered and sent a demo they made up. Come on." Joran uncurled.

***

"What do you think of the look?" Joran asked before he started the demo. The shock look was gone. Everyone's hair was cropped shorter than Mitra's and they wore pastel suit jackets over white T-shirts and white jeans.

"Interesting," Bojo said. "What do you want to bet that the jackets are rented for the demo?"

"And kept safe on hangers until the last minute," Joran agreed. It was an interesting way to hide the fact you were broke.

"And the demo?"

"Superb sound, mediocre camerawork, all shot on a really sparse looking sound set. Not one chick in sight, no fooling around."

"So they are selling music, not image."

"Great music. Listen."

They listened. Twice.

"I'm going to sign them, Bojo."

Bojo did not instantly agree. This time he had to say it. "Could you keep your hands off?"

Joran was offended. "Do you think I would ruin something like this? I almost did. I heard an earlier version. So I'm warned."

He obviously meant it, at least for now. And all in all the band could do a lot worse than Joran when it came to advice and interference, Bojo decided. "So sign them."

***

Maras was perfect company, Brys thought contentedly as they sat in their chairs with the water lapping just below their waists. He hardly spoke. He just sat there, big and quiet and reassuring. But his eyes he didn't miss a thing, and now and again he had nudged her and pointed. Once he said 'look there.' They'd watched the boats and the tourists. Starting to finally get sleepy for the day, Brys shut her eyes and let herself be lulled by the water and the gentle breeze.

"Brys."

She opened her eyes. Maras nodded to where the two blond teens were starting another water fight and working in their direction. The older made a massive splash that caught her and instinctively she flinched.

"Clear out, eh!" Maras said.

Brys expected a scene. The older brother gave her a smile which she ignored. His younger brother pulled on his arm, then pulled again harder. The older teen shrugged, gave her another smile and left.

When they were out of earshot Maras chuckled. "You handled him real good."

"Who?"

"The older brother. He's been eyeing you since we came to sit here, but you haven't been lookin' back. He can tell we're just friends like, and he were out to get your attention. You'd squealed an we'd never got rid of him." Tired by that long speech Maras stared at the boys with his usual scowl. The younger tugged his brother a little further down the beach. Good.

"You watch. The kid is gonna try next, with the brunette babe." Maras nodded towards where three girls had recently stretched out in the sun.

"The one at this end?"

"Nah. The one with a touch of cinnamon to her."

How had Maras reached that conclusion? Brys watched as the brothers started bouncing a beach ball around. A few moments into the game the younger deliberately missed and the ball landed near the girls. He retrieved it and squatted down, talking to the girl Maras had described as having a touch of cinnamon in her. She was smiling.

Maras continued in a low rumble. "The brother what tried with you will try for the blonde next. He ain't scoring there either. He'll get stuck with the other brunette."

Since she seemed as attractive as the other two, Brys had no idea why Maras used the word stuck, but the scene played out exactly the way he predicted. Satisfied he was right, Maras turned his attention to a flock of birds wheeling around. Brys kept watching the young people without being obvious about it. She still didn't understand how Maras knew what was going to happen. She jumped when his big finger prodded her side at the waist.

"Brys, you're looking kind of funny. You forget your sunscreen?"

Forget? She had never been out long enough or late enough in the day to even own any. The only time she had been outside for long was the day she had been out in the boat with Bojo, and they had stayed in the yacht cabin. She hadn't even thought of sunscreen.

***

"Say Juttar, I -"

Juttar cut Joran off, his voice alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing has far as I know. I just -"

"Joran. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Haven't the slightest, I've been composing." Actually Joran knew perfectly well he'd be waking Juttar, but it always had been so easy to get a rise out of Juttar when he was half asleep that it was just too tempting to not try again. Joran looked innocent. "You just told me you personally wanted to listen in if I was going to talk to Dreen, and I'm going to talk to Dreen."

That was true. Of the multiple contacts Dreen had who could say something wrong, Juttar trusted Joran the least. "Okay, okay. Let me get some coffee." Juttar started to rise then sat down again. "What about?"

"Dreen was making me a painting composition package based on my synesthesia before he took off with Mitra. I want it." This was starting to be fun.

"Dreen was making you a painting composition package - whatever that is - and you want him to go back to working on it?"

Joran nodded approval. "You're waking up. You don't really need that caffeine. You'll never go back to sleep if you drink it."

Juttar ignored the advice and started walking to the cater unit. "You want Dreen to start writing software for you now?" His voice was incredulous.

"Not start, finish. He is already working on it. You weren't listening after all."

"Can I ask why?"

"Sure." Joran was grinning now. "I'm going to sign a new band to AntonCorp. They're really good and they brought out my competitive streak. I want to see what I can do with the package."

"Joran, even for you this is ridiculous! You wake me up and then you're going to bother Dreen at a time like this when you can compose at a keyboard? I'm going to bed!"

"Okay. I'll call him without you."

"Joran!!"

Juttar really should get his blood pressure checked. Joran relented. "Sorry Juttar, but you have to admit you're awake now. Seriously I could use the package but it isn't crucial. But I really don't like the idea of Dreen brooding. I know you pushed and got Mitra cohabiting with him, but they can only spend so many hours watching holodramas and playing games. They won't have a love life with the whole planet eavesdropping."

***

"Ouch! How did you do that Brys?" Trevarr took an experienced look at her sunburn. He crossed the computing room towards her desk and took a better look.

"I stayed out too long on the beach with Maras. "

"Is that what he's upset about? I had thought that sit in the lake was a great idea. But he came back in a perfectly foul mood. Even Mai couldn't handle him."

"I'm truly sorry. I don't know why he thinks it's his fault. But when I woke up there was a message and he sounded really worried." Not that she had slept much. She'd mostly tossed and lain there awake. The doctor had said she didn't need a prescription, to just use her favorite post-sun moisturizer. But she didn't have one, and she had no intentions of going into one of the fancy cosmetics shops all red and feeling stupid.

"And as soon as I used the cater unit the hotel must have known I was awake, because chocolate and flowers arrived." This was a new event in Brys's life. No one had ever fussed over her being sick before, although once the old lady she had stayed with on Tranus had made her a cup of tea when she had a virus. And no one had ever given her flowers or candy except for Bojo. She had been nervous about that, thinking Bojo would be jealous, but he'd just said, 'That's decent of Maras' and eaten most of the chocolate.

"So what are you doing for it?" Trevarr knew pretty well all of the lotions on the market by smell, and he couldn't smell anything.

"Nothing special. Bojo said I had to see a doctor so I did and he said it will go away."

"Do you want me to send something to your room to help?" Trevarr knew that despite Bojo's influence Brys was still very shy and probably wouldn't have the nerve to ask for help in a cosmetician's or a drugstore.

"Does it really matter?" Brys was busy. The hacker had taken down the Gingezel system again, but this time he had really been destructive, not just a nuisance.

"Did you sleep today?"

"Not really."

"Then I'll send something to your room. Just read the labels, Okay?"

"Thanks Trevarr." And how exactly had the hacker realized he could do that?

***

The timer sounded and Brys reluctantly eased herself out of the spa style bath and sat on the tiled surround. That wasn't too bad. She hadn't bumped anywhere that hurt. She took a thick towel and gently patted her upper trunk and thighs, then toweled her lower legs with her usual vigor. Then she went and inspected herself in the full length mirror to study the demarcation lines between the areas of her flesh that were the usual creamy white and the angry red. Was the sunburn a little faded or was it worse? She honestly couldn't tell and she had forgotten to ask the doctor how long she'd stay red. He had meant to be reassuring. He'd said since it was morning and there was a breeze she hadn't been out long enough for heatstroke. And she was unlikely to have a serious headache or nausea. She probably wouldn't blister but she would peel. That was all rather alarming to a megacity girl.

The top of her shoulders and her nose were starting to peel. Brys made a disgusted face. She did not have the slightest idea how she had sunburnt her face since some nice man from the hotel had brought her and Maras big floppy hats when the sun started to get some strength. The doctor had said it was the light bouncing off the water. Maybe. Maybe if she couldn't sleep again this afternoon she would research that.

Oh! Brys sighed with relief as she slid the lotion soaked cotton ball along her arm. As the sensation of coolness spread, Brys mentally thanked Trevarr just as she had when she slipped into the mineral laden tub. Slightly happier she reached for the moisturizing lotion that went on next. It felt good, but it didn't look like it was going to stop the peeling at all. Poor Bojo. He was worse than Maras, acting like somehow it was all his fault that she hadn't thought. She suspected he would feel better if there was something he could do. But Trevarr had got her all the nice lotions, and Maras had already got her candy and flowers. So there wasn't much Bojo could do but keep his hands off her until things quieted down. Brys kind of felt bad about that but what could she do? It wouldn't be too many more days.

Lotioning complete, she reached for the hostess gown by Neselli Bojo had given her the night of the concert and she had been sure she would never wear. It still seemed shockingly transparent, but it was cool and light and silky, and it covered her head to toe. She had discovered that this was important. She couldn't stand a waistband, and if her prickly skin stuck to a table surface it hurt to pull away. The sofa cover now seemed unbearably rough. And wearing a see through gown didn't really matter in her room. It was hours before she had to go to work, and when Bojo came over the fact she was wearing the gown would please him. Brys let her hair down and started brushing it.

*****

Chapter 34

Dreen's knee brushed Mitra's. "Sorry."

She jerked and accidentally kicked him. "Oh hell!"

They were sitting opposite each other at the tiny scratched kitchen table and there wasn't exactly knee or anything else room. For that matter, with the table folded down from the wall there was not enough room to fold out the bed. Either you rested, or ate.

"You just killed me off! Damn!" Mitra didn't take her eyes off her screen or remove the headset. The cacophony of boos and catcalls were subsiding.

"Do you want to play another round of Don't Come Crying?" Marin 12's voice asked her.

"Yes."

It still rankled that Darwin could beat her so easily. Even more, it rankled that she was definitely not improving with practice. She admitted that as a rodent he had a dexterity advantage with those tiny paws of his, but there was more to it than that. The little Pikkant had been downright devious when he played. And C.C. had tried to fly that Darwin wasn't sentient. Mitra snorted. As far as she was concerned Don't Come Crying went so fast at Darwin's Master level all she had time to do was react, not think. Maybe she should go back to her own level and work up slowly if she lost again. No. She started the game.

"That's nice." Dreen said, completely focused on the second last module to finish coding for Joran's music package. He had no idea why Joran suddenly wanted it finished yesterday. Probably to keep him busy. That was fine, the distraction was working, and the complete isolation was giving him the focus he needed. The code was just falling into place.

They continued in companionable silence, broken only by Mitra's swearing as she lost another game. A prompter came up reminding Dreen to catch the news. He hesitated. When Mitra had arrived two days ago, complete with sleeping bag as requested, they had gone over how to survive living together in such a cramped space. They were used to traveling together so the list of potential disasters was relatively short. They had agreed they'd just deal with differences as they came up. But one major problem existed. Mitra flatly refused to watch or listen to the news. She had announced firmly that they had enough problems and she was not going to add the galaxy's to her list.

The way news had been earlier today Dreen was in a mind to concede her point of view. He cancelled the prompter and kept working on the music software.

He couldn't do it! Too many years of habit were being broken. Dreen picked up his earphones and shifted to the news. He'd missed the political and disaster session, which was fine with him. He settled in to enjoy the sports. All right! His favorite soccer team had taken another game. They'd end up third or better at this rate. And the pass setting up the goal was amazing. He and the galaxy watched the freeze-frame replay.

They shifted to the business news. There were still very strange behaviors in the agribusiness market and similar swings were now showing up in metals as well. That was one reason Mitra was not watching the news. A similar story had come up, and she had said it was probably that idiot brother of hers and his chaos theory code, and that he was asking to get arrested this time, not just get his license pulled. Dreen had wondered exactly what she meant by that, but it did not seem to be a conversation that should be recorded for posterity.

The young oriental man giving the business report looked at some monitor and nodded. "And a just breaking story. The hostile takeover of Dellmaice Power Systems by Nemizcan Computing has been successful. We have Chett Linderson, the Head of Nemizcan Computing."

Dreen saw Chett's image appear. Galaxy, what he wouldn't give to be there with him!

"Mr. Linderson, there has been a lot of speculation as to why Nemizcan Computing has chosen to enter the public market through this takeover, and why you've gone after Dellmaice Power rather than an information technology company, particularly since the offer was not well received by Dellmaice Power."

"Mitra – I think you –" Dreen began.

"Dreen, I told you! I'm not watching news. Period!" Mitra's voice was testy, and she didn't take her eyes off the screen. That interruption had just killed her off again and the game had been three-quarters played out, her best yet.

Chett smiled easily. "There's always speculation, isn't there? As you know, Nemizcan Computing is a private corporation and will remain so. This move simply suited our objectives at this time. I can assure you, it will be profitable for us, for our backers, and for the shareholders of Dellmaice Power Systems. Nemizcan is one of the best run, most profitable corporations in the galaxy, and we will be carrying these business practices over to our acquisition."

"The takeover was hostile, and Dr. Ari Dellmaice in particular was violently opposed to it. Will he be continuing as President of Dellmaice Power?" the young man asked.

"No. He will not. His management style would not integrate well with Nemizcan."

"Then may I ask who will?"

"I will for the foreseeable future. I know and have worked with all of Dellmaice Power's partners, and my background prior to Nemizcan was in the energy sector. Now, if you'll excuse me." There was another polite smile and Chett was gone before the inevitable questions of wasn't he spreading himself thin, and where did Dr. Pendi fit in, and what was happening on Drezvir could be asked.

Dreen was rather surprised that the newscaster left it at that. But he apparently took the interview from Chett as more than he expected anyway and moved on to the next story. His call tone sounded. Chett. All right! Dreen removed his earphones and activated the sound as Mitra looked up. She was very nervous about calls she couldn't hear. He'd made that mistake on a simple question from Joran about the software package and had heard about it for twenty minutes or so afterwards.

"Dreen. Sorry about that. I meant to call you first, but the newscaster –"

Dreen shook his head, and cut across Chett. "We don't mention news here. Mitra has put a firm moratorium on that."

Chett raised his eyebrows. "She has to deal with reality sometime."

"When we're out of this room is soon enough."

Chett shrugged, but he didn't argue. "You know what's best. I'll put you straight through to Lindy then. She has some good news about Mikey and his band."

But before Chett could go, Dreen gave him a grin, and a thumbs-up that the screen blocked from Mitra's view, and they spent about half a minute just grinning at each other like idiots. They'd done it! Revenge felt so sweet.

***

And that, Ari thought in a totally detached manner, was that. He knew the reality of the situation, the impotent fury, the having to cope, would come later. There would be a lot of coping to do. Reassuring suppliers there would be continuity, reassuring clients there would be continuity, arranging interim management, dealing with that damned Chett Linderson. The first wave of anger hit and Ari swore, slamming his fist onto his desk. Damn that man! Why did Dreen ever have to link up with him much less give him control of Nemizcan?

The wave was short lived though, and detachment returned. He looked around the office that was technically no longer his, and his eyes came to rest on Sander's painting. The lurid colors and the ugly space monster looked even worse here than it had in his kitchen, and Ari grinned suddenly. Good for you Sander. Just keep going, keep following whatever it is that keeps that grin on your face. He touched the contact for his secretary.

"Please cancel the remaining appointments for this morning." Ari was surprised. His voice sounded normal, calm.

She bit her lip. This was definitely not a good time to cross Ari but – "Can I remind you that you and Haran have a conference call in an hour with Juttar Kommur to discuss Mitra's arrest?"

"Postpone it until mid afternoon." He was going home. He was going to have lunch with Naura and Sander and Erlin, and maybe help Sander paint an even uglier picture than this one. His grin twisted and broadened. Barloth could take the damned call. He wasn't the one arrested for the Drezvir accident, Kael was. And as of now, the whole Drezvir mess wasn't his problem. He would shock Naura by keeping Erlin out of school for the afternoon, and he and the boys would start building another space station. He took one last look at the drawing, at the office that represented what he had spent his whole life creating. Just start walking and keep walking. Keep walking. Damn that Chett Linderson to hell! Ari shoved his hands in his pockets and balled his fists.

*****

Chapter 35

"Hi Trebur. You have been having fun, haven't you?"

Trebur decided he had never seen Jeena looking like this before. She was usually determined looking, or analytical and serious, occasionally teasing. He knew a couple of the other guys found her very attractive too, with her long dark hair, olive skin, and slender figure, but she was egalitarian. She frosted all the guys in the coffee group equally.Today there was a sparkle to those pretty dark eyes, and an animation to her face that made her almost beautiful.

"You've found something, Jeena?"

She nodded. "You've got a pretty good ear, Trebur. Those are not from the original Anton masters. They've been changed, quite a bit actually, and someone went to one hell of a lot of work in the process."

"How so?"

"They sound remarkably like the originals. In fact, I'm surprised you picked up the difference. But the actual sound sequences here and there have had a bit of –" She paused, frowning. "Sorry Trebur. I'm hunting for words you will understand. Randomization at a digital level, insertion of randomization based on human voice, that sort of stuff."

He nodded. "Specifically done to mask conversation?"

She grinned. "Come on Trebur. I don't sucker that easily. How do I know why it was done? Anton has always marched to his own drummer. Maybe he simply woke up at 3:00 AM – he has insomnia you know – re-listened to the masters and decided they stunk."

"But they do mask conversation?"

"Beautifully. We've all tried it, plus used a few conversations off the hyperweb to get a range of voices. It isn't one hundred percent, but it's good."

"Mmm." It had certainly been good enough to stop monitoring here.

"So what is interesting is, who did it?" A look of intense regret passed over Jeena's mobile face. "I've been out of the game too long, Trebur. It changes so fast. All I know is it isn't Timoth's work."

"Who's Timoth?"

That got Trebur the same pitying look that he, as an Octagla fan, would have given her if she asked who Daron, or Roban, or Jaik, or Maras were. "He's the Anton Sound Master."

"And how do you know it wasn't him? They came directly from Anton. I was in the cafeteria when Eli Heron delivered them."

Jeena moved her shoulders restlessly. She couldn't explain. "It just isn't his style."

"Sure, Jeena," Trebur said, not believing her. It was easy, if you'd been on the fringes of something, to make like you were center stage. He doubted Jeena had even met Timoth, much less knew his style intimately.

***

Azlo's face was grave as he walked into Trebur Auta's office. Tranngol, following behind him was harder to read. All Trebur could be sure of was suppressed excitement. So, they had found something at last. It was interesting too, that they had chosen to report here, not in the work shed, where they could show him what they had found. Interesting, but it probably meant something unpleasant was coming.

"Well, gentlemen?" Trebur rose, and indicated chairs.

"We have the conclusive cause of the accident," Azlo said.

Trebur, who had been mentally listing what had not been ruled out, was sure he'd misheard. "Conclusive?" he asked sharply. There wasn't anything left that was conclusive. They had been chasing more and more remote probabilities for some time. "You mean you missed something?"

Azlo nodded. "Yes, and it's something that probably would have stayed that way if Dr. Pendi hadn't put us onto it." Azlo told him the evidence they had found that the system was hacked.

Trebur heard him out, having him repeat parts. Then he sat there, bland faced, thinking, while the two risk analysts waited. "You say there is no doubt Azlo, so I'll believe you. But this moves us out of the realm of criminal negligence into deliberate damage. There is no way those alterations to the algorithms could have been done accidentally. It required intent, and knowledge."

"That is correct."

Tranngol entered the conversation. "So that means Dreen was right, it's some outside party. He, and Mitra, aren't implicated." What had seemed like premature action by the Judiciary arresting them really bothered him.

Trebur thought about arrest instructions from the Interplanetary Judiciary, the doctored albums, Dreen's record of previous arrest for hacking, the news that the takeover was successful. "No," he said firmly. "I'm only buying that if you can prove this couldn't have been something latent installed by Nemizcan staff to activate when fuel was shifted." His look was far away. "Or that it isn't something he could have done now, here, sometime when the computer was repowered, to throw you off track. I understand Dr. Pendi is a very talented hacker himself. And if it could have been done post accident, it isn't a conclusive cause is it?"

Tranngol stared, aghast.

***

Even for Ceb, this was slow. C.C. decided it had been a while since he'd talked to his mom anyway, so he'd call home. He really wanted to know whose story was true. Leeth's, or Dreen's. The fact Mitra was arrested, and even more so, the fact she had chosen to cohabit with Dreen really bothered him. He'd gone to talk to her, but the guards had said they weren't allowed to talk to anyone. He had come away replaying and replaying that conversation with Leeth in the chicken coop in his head. Had Mitra got herself mixed up with a worse guy than that fellow at Dellmaice Power Systems? Some women were like that, perpetual victims. The fact a lot of people liked Dreen didn't necessarily count either. Apparently that Dellmaice Power guy had been very charming.

"C.C.! How's it going?" There was delight in Beti's voice. She adored her son, and still couldn't quite believe they were sharing careers.

C.C. grinned. "Uh uh. First I talk to dad, or we'll get carried away. I asked him to look some stuff up for me, but I think he needs reminding." C.C. did not intend to mention Leeth, given Beti's intense dislike for the man.

"No doubt he does, but it will have to wait C.C. He's off on another business trip."

"Where to? I can catch him at his portel."

"I have no idea." Beti smiled with resigned tolerance. "He would have you think some things he did were the highest interplanetary negotiations, or," she giggled, "espionage, instead of pushing documents. Still, it makes him feel important." She pushed a lock of hair back with the back of her hand. "If you have the energy you can try to weasel the information out of his secretary."

Beti sounded like she definitely didn't to C.C. "I'll pass," C.C. said. It would wait a few days. "Are you okay, mom? You sound tired."

"I think that's all it is," Beti said, trying not to sound worried. "I've been feeling a bit peculiar lately, more than menopause can account for. Now there is a virus going around that no one counted on, so they didn't immunize. Chelan has it rather badly. But I don't feel viral. And you know Linda." Linda was her doctor of long-standing. "She's convinced I must have picked up a pathogen on Actigulla." Beti sighed. "I told her we were exceedingly careful during our whole stay after the preliminary reports were so iffy, but she's making me do a whole workup anyway."

Catching some pathogen was one of the major occupational hazards of terraforming. C.C. took a better look at Beti. She had lost a bit of weight, and looked drawn. "It's probably good for you. Now, did I tell you Mitra and I have been having a great time working on shoreline tree simulations?"

***

"Chelan." There was an edge to Roween's voice as she shook her husband's shoulder. "Oh Chelan. Do wake up!"

Chelan surfaced reluctantly. He was feverish, his throat was sore, and he ached all over from coughing. "Mm?" The eye he opened felt dry and scratchy.

"Oh Chelan, Beti just called. Mitra has been -" Roween gulped and tried again. "She's been arrested!" It was a wail.

"I know," Chelan said indistinctly. He'd been feeling a little better earlier in the day and had the nicest chat with that Joran lad. He said there had been a bureaucratic screwup, but that the expensive lawyer Juttar was keeping an eye on it until Ceb got to Drezvir. Ceb would sort it out then. Chelan like Joran. He was very easy to talk to, and he'd suggested a herbal pastille that a lot of the singers swore by. Chelan had had some delivered, and they were very nice, honey tasting.

Where was he. Mitra. Oh yes. "Mistake," he mumbled indistinctly. "Lawyer will fix." And he went back to sleep.

*****

Chapter 36

The arrival of the Allegro on Drezvir eighteen hours ahead of schedule did not so much as raise eyebrows. The spaceport officials were getting used to deliveries from Anton, and if this time the delivery was Mitra's brother Niki, not supplies, that was fine. In fact, they were glad she was going to have family here. The colony sentiment was strongly against her having been arrested. They figured that was probably why the Sector Judiciary had brought in more armed guards – to prevent a civil insurrection. The only reaction, other than to authorize Niki's entry was that one official called his brother-in-law who was on rest shift from the mines. He had missed the chance to see the Allegro on its last visit because he was down in the mines doing cleanup from the accident.

The process achieving the Allegro arriving eighteen hours ahead of schedule had done a lot more than raise eyebrows with the various space traffic controllers en route. Whenever communication wasn't ignored, the controllers had demanded to know what the hell they thought they were doing breaking every rule in the book. Jon, Arn, and Rhea, in their respective turns as pilot had transmitted valid Interplanetary Judiciary authorization to the incensed individuals, said 'No we aren't breaking rules with this authorization! Look it up!', and taken the next hyperspatial jump before anyone could. They were, collectively, extremely pleased with the run. It may have been a galactic speed record, even if it never would go into a record book.

The fact that C.C.'s dad had hitched a ride was a bit of a surprise. After all, Drezvir wasn't exactly a vacation spot at the best of times. But then again, the terraformers were still comfortable in their habitat, and C.C.'s dad had probably heard the news and was checking on him. So the only response from the Customs and Immigration official was 'lucky you', because there wasn't a spaceport official who wouldn't have given a couple years salary to hitch a ride on the Allegro. And it was nice for C.C. to have a family visit too.

When Ceb started to lift up his metal, unscanable case, with its diplomatic seal and said wasn't that life, he'd had to bring desk work to chip away at when C.C. worked, he got sympathy and was waved through. No one tried to look at it. They customs officials were a little touchy about over inspecting visitor's cases. They had been severely reprimanded for causing trouble with Dr. Kern.

No one, Mining Guild customs official, or Sector Judiciary guard, associated him with the unnamed official due the next day. This suited Ceb perfectly. He did not want to strain relationships between the Farr Sector and Interplanetary Judiciaries more than he had to. If he could arrive quietly, and tell this Trebur Auta he was an idiot privately, so much the better. Also, the less time the planet manager Olan Rostin had to get edgy about Ceb's presence, the smoother it would all go.

Ceb still had no idea if the man was a villain, but villain or not, by now he must be getting very unhappy with the current situation. There seemed to be an excessive and deliberately offensive Sector Judiciary military presence. Even an innocent man could decide enough was enough, and Ceb had no desire at all to find himself imprisoned by the Mining Guild on some sort of grounds of interference. In addition to the fact it would undoubtedly be a most unpleasant experience, he did not want to have to explain that one to the rest of the Interplanetary Judiciary later.

As it was, if someone did choose to arrest him prior to his visit to Trebur Auta's office, he was simply a tourist and would ask to protest to Trebur Auta. Either way, he would see Auta and after that the probability of arrest or staying arrested was remote. So Ceb leaned back in the transport provided and studied the barren landscape.

***

After kilometers of staring at dust-shrouded barren rock Ceb remarked, "C.C. certainly has a job on his hands."

"That he does," the driver agreed, and lapsed into silence until they pulled into a sealed garage. "I think you'll have to get permission to visit your sister, sir." The driver was apologetic.

Niki stood looking around the enclosed area. The air must be very low in oxygen. On the drive they had all used trickle tubes. Now it looked like you couldn't even walk from a vehicle parked outside to a building.

"I'll come with you, Niki," Ceb said conversationally. "See how you fare and such. C.C. will be busy now." Ceb had to give Niki credit. He acted like that was an expected remark.

"Thanks, Ceb. Moral support would be great." He turned to the driver. Judging by his coveralls and Mitra's comments that she never wanted to see coveralls again, he must be Mining Guild. "Can you show me to wherever I get permission?"

A heavily armed guard stepped forward. "You'll be wanting to see Mr. Auta. If you'll come with me?"

***

Trebur Auta looked at his visitors with a degree of alarm he sincerely hoped he wasn't showing. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Presumably, by the way Sergeant Giobo had set things up, Mitra and Dreen were supposed to be kept isolated. But did that exclude family? Could you even legally deny a family visit? And how did he find out and not look stupid to these strangers? If he could stall them until tomorrow and the Interplanetary Judiciary rep got here, it would be his problem.

Partly to stall for time, partly out of automatic politeness, he extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kael, Mr. Windegren."

As Ceb took Auta's hand he asked, "I assume this room is shielded?"

Trebur was startled into looking at the paperweight on his desk. Ceb followed the look. Probably adequate, but he didn't intend to trust Mitra's security or his career to it.

"Do you mind?" Ceb asked politely, opening his attaché, extracting the shielding device he preferred, and activating it. "There." He continued reaching into the attaché as he spoke. "When I sent you the B5WR9, I simply expected you to place Dr. Kael and Dr. Pendi into protective custody." He had to give Trebur Auta credit, the expression on his baby face didn't change as he extracted the first weapon. Good at poker, he'd guess. "I had not expected a formal arrest. Still, you are the best judge of the situation here, and if that caused the least suspicion and gave them the maximum protection, that's good."

Ceb had now deployed about his body a number of objects that caused a tingle of anticipation down Sergeant Giobi's spine. The Interplanetary Judiciary chap was ready for trouble, serious trouble. Fantastic!

The same procedure had a markedly different effect on Trebur Auta. His stomach knotted and he gave serious consideration to whether or not he now had enough field experience to apply for a nice, safe academic post. He didn't care about the pay cut as long as the job was safe. Nice and safe.

Niki simply watched with growing curiosity, and the realization he had seriously underestimated the older generation. First there was his dad, meek little Chelan, designing most of Gingezel. He couldn't decide there which impressed him most, the brainpower required or the nerve to con Roween. And now Uncle Ceb was playing super-spy like he did it routinely.

"This," Ceb said with a slight face and holding up his wrist, "was activated when I put it on before I left Plenata. It will record all conversations and defeat your blocking unless there is a lot better technology in this sector than I think. I cannot remove it. It requires the biometrics of two of five other Interplanetary Judiciary members." He was a sixth of that group, but you could not undo a cuff you sealed. Ceb did not like the cuffs, the removal protocol, or the fact that it was easier to remove a hand than cut through the cuffs. Still, if he was undertaking an action that would probably be seen as seriously risking relations with the Farr Sector he wanted a record for posterity of what he'd done.

Ceb turned to Niki. "I know you will want to be with Mitra while Dr. Auta and I sort things out. I will need you to wear a cuff too, Niki."

Niki reluctantly extended a hand. It was fine for Uncle Ceb to play super-spy, but he wanted no part of it. With the cuff on he'd be afraid to open his mouth. Trying to lighten the situation as the cuff was sealed, he said, "And I suppose if things go wrong, it's my hand that gets cut off, not the cuff?"

"That's right," Ceb said matter-of-factly.

"Thanks for not telling me first."

Ceb gave Niki a quelling look.

He had it! Trebur's mind rejoiced. The name of the young man who had dated his sister for five months, not that he would be all that young now, Trebur amended. The alumni newsletter from his old alma mater had said he was tenured now, a full professor of contemporary literature. They'd always got along, which was more than he could say for the guy and his sister, but then her boyfriends tended to get a rough ride. Maybe, if he contacted the man, he would give him some insider tips on how to land an academic job. That was what he needed. Lectures and term papers, a wife, kids, a dog. He could take up something harmless, like birdwatching.

"Dr. Auta." Ceb continued to be polite. Nothing was gained by embarrassing the man in front of the sergeant he might well have to command. "I understand you confiscated certain property of Dr. Pendi's."

Trebur was pleasantly surprised to find he still had a voice, a relatively steady one. "That's right." He looked at Niki, not sure how much Niki should know. "Some Anton albums that were interfering with monitoring conversation and a highly specialized auditory canal microphone and speaker unit."

"Very reasonable to enforce the illusion of an arrest," Ceb said. "But I think that now that Niki is wearing recording equipment, we might keep all records of their conversations to us, not the Mining Guild. I take it the albums were effective since you confiscated them?"

"Very." Trebur's tone was dry.

This was not lost on Ceb. "So perhaps they could be returned, and your sergeant," he nodded respectfully to Sergeant Giobi, who stiffened his already erect carriage, "could escort Niki to see his sister? The visit of a family member is normal under the circumstances. Then," Ceb added quietly, "you and I can have a little talk."

***

The door opened, and both Dreen and Mitra tensed. It was not mealtime.

Then Mitra was on her feet, running and forgetting her tailbone. "Niki!" There was an incredible note of joy in her voice as she hurled herself at him.

Hell, Dreen thought as he rose as well. Who this time? Was he going to spend his life watching Mitra hurl herself at handsome men?

Niki caught the look, and over Mitra's head gave Dreen a reassuring smile. "I'm her brother." He turned as best he could with Mitra clinging to him and said to the sergeant, "I don't think you're needed now, with the guards outside the door."

"Sir." Sergeant Giobi nodded and stepped outside to tell his colleagues about the arsenal he'd seen before returning to Dr. Auta's office. This was getting more exciting by the minute.

With his free hand Niki tossed Dreen an album. "Why don't you play my favorite? The third cut."

Dreen caught it, looked at the cover, raised his eyebrows and got a reassuring smile from Niki. "Sure." He inserted the album.

"Niki!" Mitra pulled back. "I'm sick of that."

"So be sick of it." Then as the music started he added, "I understand it masks eavesdropping."

"You too?" Mitra made a disgusted face.

"Me too," Niki confirmed, then grinned. "Mad at me already?" That got him another hanging on for dear life hug.

"Of course not! But Niki why are you here? How did you get here?

"I'm here because I got worried about you, so I hitched a ride on the Allegro."

"You what?"

"First things first." Niki disengaged himself. "Mitra has obviously forgotten her manners." He took a step towards Dreen, extending his hand. "I really am Niki Kael, Mitra's brother. And you must be Dreen Pendi. I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances."

Mitra watched as they shook hands formally. It seemed totally bizarre to her, but it obviously made the two men feel more comfortable. Then they surveyed each other, apparently liking what they respectively saw.

"Are you two quite finished?" Mitra went to turn the sound down at least a bit. She hated this album, and who cared if the whole galaxy listened to family news.

"No, Mitra." Niki intercepted his sister and turned her around. "Go sit down so we can talk." He turned to Dreen. "You'd better hold her for this one."

Again Dreen raised his eyebrows, but he didn't say anything. He just put an arm around a thoroughly resistant Mitra and led her to the couch.

Niki grabbed a chair and followed them, putting it close enough his knees touched Mitra's.

"Niki." Mitra was exasperated. "Keep this weird stuff up and I'll wonder why you came!" Then she realized what she'd said. "Why did you?" This obviously wasn't just an 'I love you' visit.

Niki wanted to stall a little longer, to give Ceb time. "Ask me again how I got here."

"You said you came in the Allegro. But how do you know Joran?" Mitra asked. Even Niki wouldn't have the nerve to call him and ask for the Allegro on the basis of that stupid M's song even if he'd connected it with her. She had assumed, in the small blessings category, that he hadn't since he hadn't called to snoop and give her a rough ride.

"I don't. Dad does. So when we wanted family here, he more or less called him up to borrow it."

"Dad doesn't even like Anton!"

"I know. I think once he finally sorted out that Joran is Anton, he's been rather embarrassed about that. He knows Joran through Gingezel."

"Okay Niki. I'm way too tired for your games. Dad's never been to Gingezel and isn't likely to be."

Niki grinned. "I told you you'd better be sitting down." Although this wasn't the part he'd had in mind. "It appears we have a deep dark secret in the family. Dad's been conning Mom for who knows how long. He's the designer for the Gingezel historical cities." Niki turned his attention to Dreen. "I believe Nevin Pennell is a friend of yours, and he's also a friend of our father's since they were in their twenties. Nevin is the one who talked Chelan, our father, into the idea." He turned back to Mitra. "Dad's been having a great time."

Mitra's eyes widened as she absorbed this, then she grinned. "I'll bet he has." She thought of the 'academic' simulation he'd been currently working on so happily, and wondered where it was scheduled to be built. Candi Dua, the tropical historical city she and Dreen had visited, stretched around that gorgeous bay was really fantastic. For that matter, was Crescent Bay classed as historical? It was terrible that Chelan hadn't seen his cities, which brought her to her mother. "And Roween will kill him."

"I know, so she doesn't learn it from us. And Mitra, I don't think the people who own Gingezel advertise it around who they are. So keep your mouth shut about Joran and Nevin Pennell. Okay?"

"Promise." She put out her hand for their usual handshake. "Now, can I turn that damned album off?"

Dreen had been watching Niki. This was a stalling tactic, fascinating though it was. He had known Nevin had done a lot of the construction on Gingezel. He was a natural from the point of view of the size of the projects, the quality demands, and the speed they were done at. But he'd never once thought him a consortium member.

He caught Niki's eye, then said to Mitra, "I don't think so, Mitra."

*****

Chapter 37

"And now, Dr. Auta," Ceb said then paused deferentially, curious to see what the man would say.

Trebur looked at the door Niki had just left through, then at C.C.'s father. There was, he presumed, no sense doubting that Ceb Windegren was the official he was waiting for. There was no other way he could have known the B5WR9 was sent. Then too, there was that attaché, and its contents. That hadn't felt like a show put on to impress or intimidate him. Ceb Windegren had acted like a man doing his routine job. Trebur took in the sparse, late middle-aged figure, the quiet face that looked like it might mask a dry sense of humor, and surreptitiously pinched a thigh. No, he was awake. It wasn't a bizarre dream.

The game was up. Trebur said, matter-of-factly, "I think you'd better know something. I didn't arrest Dreen and Mitra to be clever. I didn't know what a B5WR9 is. I'm just a scientist who got assigned as Judiciary Rep because everyone thought this job would be a case of technically hearing things out. If I got lucky and didn't mess things up, I'm glad, but it was sheer luck." He stopped, waiting for the reprimand that he deserved. It didn't come.

Ceb simply nodded. If the man was admitting his errors, why rub them in? "I'd wondered. I should have researched your background prior to sending that message, but the B5WR9 was routine."

Once again Trebur wondered just exactly what this man did if that was routine. He thought of Sergeant. Giobi who had been euphoric ever since the message. Routine. All right.

Ceb continued. "I started to wonder, when their lawyer, Juttar Kommur, called complaining."

The question slipped out. "But how did he know it was you – or did you have to tell him? I mean, I didn't even know who to contact in response or if a response was appropriate."

"No, I was not required to tell Mr. Kommur, and I did not. Since I was going to be a passenger on the Allegro, Mr. Kommur heard about that from Anton – they're old friends." Ceb saw no reason to say Joran was funding Juttar. "And Mr. Kommur figured it out."

Ceb paused, considering Dr. Auta and revising his earlier opinion. The man wasn't an idiot, or incompetent. He simply didn't know what he was doing. But since Ceb had walked in the door, Dr. Auta hadn't missed a thing. He had also followed every cue given him, and been upfront about his mistake. Ceb said, "Going back to your arresting Mitra and Dreen, actually it may have been the right move under the circumstances. Has Olan Rostin ever mentioned Farolavo Power in the course of your investigations?"

None the wiser, Trebur shook his head. "No." Presumably it was some company where there had been a similar accident. But, if so, why hadn't Azlo or Tranngol mentioned it, and why did Ceb ask about Rostin?

"And what about Dr. Fallor? Has he?"

"He's not exactly in the position to be mentioning anything. He hung in there long enough for the Dellmaice Power ships to arrive with help, then totally collapsed. He's been pretty much out of it since, either sleeping, just staring at the wall and hardly eating, or getting really upset, saying no one should have died, that is was all his fault, or saying the hydroponics shouldn't have been lost. They've had to sedate him quite frequently." Trebur shook his head pityingly. "The guy really tried. It's a shame to see him taking personal responsibility like that and coming unhinged."

"Or," Ceb said quietly, "he may simply be trying to tell you all the truth."

Trebur stared at Ceb.

"You see, Olan Rostin, Mark Laratte, and Durstin Fallor are the principals behind Farolavo Power, although they have gone to an exceptional amount of trouble to hide the fact. The company is using the accident here to market an energy system very similar to the hybrid, but with a toned down and presumably safer reactor, and a different geothermal base unit. If Niki Kael is to be believed, the design for the new geothermal base was stolen from his sister."

"And that's both why you came, and why you wanted the only two serious candidates for causing the accident protected." Galaxy, had he got it backwards. Trebur looked down at his hands, wondering what else he might have done wrong.

"Yes. There was nothing conclusive. They may only be capitalizing on the accident, and at the moment it's only Niki's word on the theft, but the situation was too dangerous if they did cause the accident. And what you say about Dr. Fallor is certainly disturbing."

"To say the least. We've all been assuming Durstin is seriously imbalanced."

"Which may or may not be the case," Ceb agreed.

"Can I ask who the third person you mentioned is?"

"Mark Laratte is a former Dellmaice Power Systems staff member and Mitra's former fiancé. He was fired, and he's always claimed she stole his project. Not this one, but another."

"I see. As you say, suggestive." Trebur returned his meditative stare to his hands. "I may have come closer to messing up than you think. When what I thought was an order to arrest Dr. Pendi and Dr. Kael arrived, I was angry. I thought someone was acting prematurely, because I was becoming convinced that while either could have made a design mistake, there was no intent on either part. Since then though, I've come to suspect Dr. Pendi."

"Because of his using Anton albums to mask conversation? Actually, that's creative."

"That's what I thought at first. He was being totally open about anything to do with the analysis, and I figured if he was the type who was obsessive about privacy in his personal life, it was a creative solution. Then one passage sounded wrong to me, wrong in a way that conversation behind it didn't account for. So, I sent it for analysis once I had a reason to confiscate it."

"Indeed." Trebur Auta definitely was not a fool. "And?" Ceb prompted.

"We have a staff member, Jeena Cavella, who I understand was a Sound Master of some type. If she can be trusted, the album was altered, and very competently." Trebur came to a full stop.

"So," Ceb said softly, "this is where Jeena came to hide until everything blows over. Well, you can certainly trust her. No one in the business knows more than Jeena. And I have the feeling you suppressed something because you weren't sure of her credibility. Did you?"

Trebur nodded. "The album came, along with a lot of others direct from Anton, hand-delivered by Eli Heron. But Jeena claims that the alterations aren't the work of some guy called Timoth, their Sound Master. I didn't think she would know."

Ceb shook his head. "Joran, Joran. What games are you playing with us now?" He sighed. "Oh, Jeena would know if anyone did."

Trebur knew it was probably none of his business, but he was curious. "You mean she was good? And, if I can ask, how do you know her?"

"Jeena. Oh yes, she's good." Ceb considered. If he spoke he wasn't about to disclose anything about Jeena that wasn't public record if you knew where to look, although she had obviously been trying to hide her past. And the next while would go a lot better with Dr. Auta's goodwill. "As to how I know her, that young woman went to extreme lengths to try to get herself in serious trouble. You see, the Interplanetary Judiciary takes a very dim view of the use of subliminals. So when she plastered them all over that now notorious Also Ran album, we had to get involved."

Ceb shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. "Still, no matter how we analyzed the album, we couldn't find anything that was politically or morally subversive. Oh, every last subliminal was sexually explicit, but nothing implied violent or deviant behavior. They just, well," he looked at Trebur, "well, did you get curious and buy the album?"

Trebur couldn't help it, he was having trouble not laughing. Kit Garlan, galactic superstar and sex idol of the under twenty-five set was the one Jeena had her knife in? No wonder no one at work was scoring with her. "Sure. Kit isn't my idea of music, I'm the Anton type, but I was curious like everyone else."

"And like everyone else, you ended up sitting there laughing at the guy. So we really couldn't do anything. Kit, or his label, could have gone after her for libel, but that would have caused him a lot of embarrassment and loss of image. People would probably then have assumed that he really was sexually incompetent. As it was, Kit decided to claim the idea was his, a joke. Of course he got record sales, and everyone decided a guy who could laugh at himself like that probably was really something."

"And Jeena ended up in the middle of nowhere, cooling off." Trebur shook his head. "Poor Jeena, no wonder she still has it in for the guy, him turning it all around on her like that."

Ceb nodded. It was time to get things back on track. "So, we can take Jeena as an expert witness. The Anton albums were altered, and not by Timoth. They were delivered from Joran, and used by Dr. Pendi. That definitely needs explaining. It may simply be a misguided bright idea on Joran's part on how to help a friend, and he did the work himself because he knew Timoth would refuse. Joran is prone to misguided bright ideas. Or, there may be much more disturbing implications." Ceb did not elaborate. Instead he asked, "And your other reservation about Dr. Pendi?"

"Shortly after his arrest, Dr. Mirelle and Dr. Cebron came to me very disturbed. They are convinced they have found evidence that someone had altered – hacked – the system prior to the accident by some pretty fancy computing so that the shift to new fuel wasn't recognized. Azlo Mirelle took that as evidence of the accident being deliberate. Which it would be – if he could prove conclusively that the alterations existed prior to the accident." Then at the puzzled look on Mr. Windegren's face Trebur added, "You see, the computer has been powered up since the accident at times for testing. Dr. Pendi is an acknowledged hacker and the designer. He could have essentially faked the evidence to get everyone chasing red herrings. So Dr. Pendi looks like the most likely candidate for the hacking, although I can't think of a motive for him creating the accident."

Ceb sighed. "I can think of a couple." His mind went to the takeover. "It also seems likely that Dr. Fallor might, by the end of the technology transfer have been quite knowledgeable. And," another deep sigh, "I have to admit I would be happier if you hadn't told me there was now definite evidence of tampering, not just suspicions. You see, there is a third party with motive, opportunity, and expertise."

"Yes?" Trebur felt lost again.

"That son of mine. We are going to have to have a long talk with that boy. But first, I think things must be arranged so that, if he is culpable, Mr. Rostin can do no harm." Ceb stared morosely at the wall. "I can always apologize later, and will no doubt have to the way things are going."

*****

Chapter 38

"Mr. Windegren, I'm pleased to meet you. We are very pleased with your son's work." Olan Rostin was at his genial best, sincerely hoping the unexpected and unwanted visitor would not stay. He was busy. There was a lot that needed to be done before the Interplanetary Judiciary representative arrived. He remained standing after shaking hands, hoping Mr. Windegren would take the hint.

"If you're pleased with C.C.'s work, that's good," Ceb said, "but this is not a social visit, Mr. Rostin."

"Indeed?" Olan tried to remember if C.C. had mentioned what his father did. Was he in some way peripherally related to terraforming, a supplier perhaps? "Please sit down, Mr. Windegren."

Ceb took a chair as Olan Rostin returned to his desk.

"So what can I do for you, Mr. Windegren?"

But Ceb was already sliding his identification across the desk. "I'm with the Interplanetary Judiciary, Mr. Rostin. I was hoping you could help me with some questions about the accident you've had here."

"Indeed. I was expecting a member of the Interplanetary Judiciary, but not today." Olan did not just give the identification a cursory look. He examined it minutely. So, Ceb Windegren was not just a member, but a very senior member of the Interplanetary Judiciary. He returned the identification and folded his hands on his desk. "I was hoping when you arrived to have an explanation of the interest of the Interplanetary Judiciary in our problem."

Olan sincerely hoped the Sector Judiciary had finally gotten out of line enough they were getting disciplined, preferably permanently, and the Mining Guild could go back to running itself in peace. That optimism was reflected in his face.

So, he's not anticipating problems, Ceb decided. Well, it would be interesting to see if that changed. "Oh, there are a number of aspects that extend beyond this sector. I was hoping we could discuss them with your Sector Judiciary Representative. He's waiting in your secretary's office."

Olan misconstrued him. That pompous little meddler Auta was going to get his. Good. "By all means. I'll have my secretary send him in."

Hands in his pockets because Trebur knew he fidgeted with them when he was really nervous and not holding a hand of cards, Trebur came in and sat down. When he had asked Ceb what they were doing, and more specifically, what could conceivably be expected of him, all Ceb had said was that he hoped not much. If that had been meant to be reassuring, which Trebur sincerely doubted, it wasn't.

When Trebur was seated, Ceb turned to Olan Rostin. "Mr. Rostin, I must inform you that this conversation, indeed my entire visit here, is being recorded in its entirety. The sections where you are involved will be made available in their entirety by the Interplanetary Judiciary. Your are however welcome to make your own recordings and in fact I recommend it."

This was getting better and better. "Thank you." Olan activated the appropriate recording equipment. While he had been routinely monitoring anything and anyone possibly of interest in the accident investigation, he had kept the vast majority of his own conversations private and unrecorded.

"And of course," Ceb continued, "you are welcome to have your lawyer participate by holoconference."

Olan's genial smile faded somewhat. "Is that standard Interplanetary Judiciary practice? In this sector it would mean that I am being warned of my rights prior to some sort of charge being laid."

"Not prior to a charge being laid. There are however some questions related to the accident I want answered. What happens after that largely depends on the answers."

Olan had his smile back in place. "I can assure you that I, my staff, and the Mining Guild have done everything possible to assist in the investigation. I hardly need a lawyer to say that."

"Yes. I understand that. It is in your best interest for that investigation to be concluded expeditiously. The questions, Mr. Rostin, concern Farolavo Power."

Olan's smile faded. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mr. Rostin, you, Dr. Durstin Fallor, and Dr. Mark Laratte, are the principals behind Farolavo Power. It is target marketing a power system remarkably like the Dellmaice Power Systems hybrid. This fact was not disclosed to the analysts, or Dr. Auta. Your participation in the company, has, in fact, been hidden to the greatest extent legally possible. It seems a distinct possibility that your company would have benefited from the Drezvir accident."

Olan was affronted. "Are you accusing me of causing the accident? That's outrageous. You could never prove such a thing!"

"In this sector, I wouldn't be laying charges. Dr. Auta would. The onus would be on you to disprove such a possibility. I believe that could be difficult."

Trebur tried to suppress his panic. Lay charges against Olan Rostin? That amounted to arresting him.

Olan Rostin had not successfully run three mining planets without learning a few tricks, among them not to be thrown by sudden turns of events, and not to be suckered by fishing expeditions. He looked at Ceb Windegren who met his eyes steadily, and Trebur Auta, who did not. So, this was Windegren's show. He would try to figure out how and why Windegren fit in later. For now he would deal with the current situation.

"And you wish this ridiculous speculation to be the topic of our conversation?" he asked coldly.

"Yes. I have a number of questions."

"Then there will be a delay while I contact my lawyer."

"Certainly." Ceb made no offer to move and allow private conversation first, and assumed Olan Rostin would not have the nerve to push for it. That might, after all, be seen as implying guilt. He was curious however to see who the lawyer was, if it was anyone he knew.

The wait wasn't long, and the face he saw was too well known. Alene Greenstone. Interesting that Rostin should have such immediate access to a non-Farrese lawyer, and this particular lawyer. Could this explain the large block of funding for Farolavo Power that simply could not be traced? Was the source Zloenni? Or was it simply coincidence that a little startup company had ended up using the same lawyer as that drug queen? The link was suggestive, Ceb thought meditatively. Zloenni was reputed to do some supplying to the Farr Sector while Kulgalu wouldn't ship other than four or five legitimate pharmaceuticals. But then she'd always had more nerve than he did. Or it simply might be that Alene was an expert on Farr Sector legalities from covering Zloenni's rear for her.

Olan Rostin was at his most formal. "Mrs. Greenstone, I'm having a discussion with the Interplanetary Judiciary representative, Mr. Ceb Windegren, about Farolavo Power. He seems to have the ridiculous idea that we could be responsible for the accident."

"We know each other." Alene inclined her head. How the hell had Windegren poked his nose into things? "You have no status in the Farr Sector, Ceb, so what exactly are you up to?"

"Simply raising some questions that have inter-sector implications."

"Such as?"

"This startup company, Farolavo Power. Why was no disclosure made of it at the time the investigation began?"

"Because," Olan Rostin said firmly, "its existence or nonexistence had no impact on the accident investigation. Accident," he repeated firmly.

"Not necessarily." Trebur found he had a voice. He realized that if Azlo Mirelle had not specifically come and told Rostin about the tampering, Rostin wouldn't know. And why should Azlo? "There is now evidence that the computer system has been tampered with." He had the sense to keep quiet about his doubts as to when. He was watching Rostin's face. The man would be good at a poker table. Good, but not great. Something showed for a moment, but what?

"What are you talking about? I've heard nothing of this." Rostin's voice was sharp.

"Why should you be told? You're planet administrator. I'm in charge of the investigation," Trebur told him firmly. "Your staff would have had both the expertise and opportunity to do the tampering, wouldn't they?"

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Trebur was finding this easier than expected. "Then perhaps you will have no objection to Dr. Fallor being taken out of sedation and questioned. It has been assumed that he is hysterical, coming unhinged saying the accident was his fault. Perhaps he's only trying to tell us the truth."

Ceb was dividing his attention between Olan Rostin and Trebur Auta. Those two men did not like each other at all. He was beginning too, to appreciate why Trebur was here. He might not fully grasp the details of the legal side, but he had the basic idea down pat; that the Farr Sector Judiciary had pretty much had it with an autonomous Mining Guild. And Auta wasn't giving a micron. He was also doing as good a job as he could of upsetting Rostin into a slip, which suited Ceb.

"That is impossible," Rostin said firmly. "Durstin Fallor is a dedicated, hard-working, sensitive young man. He exhausted himself emotionally and physically holding this place together, and he is now recovering. I will not have that recovery set back by ridiculous accusations!" He glared at Auta.

So, Durstin Fallor was out of bounds. Because of the reason stated, that Rostin was worried about his health, or because he would crack? Ceb couldn't tell. It was however time to intervene. Auta was rapidly getting out of his depth.

Ceb said smoothly, "And nor should you, Mr. Rostin. We will of course ask permission of Dr. Fallor's physician prior to questioning him."

"You won't get that permission."

Rostin was very sure of himself. So, since he undoubtedly knew the doctor well, they probably wouldn't. Ceb inclined his head. "Very well. All the same, it is imperative we have his version of events. If his condition is that fragile, then the route to go will be to arrange for assessment and questioning by specialists who can assess unstable patients and will not disturb his balance."

"I will not have him subjected to that." The glare was now leveled at Ceb.

"You may not have a choice," Alene informed her client. She gave Ceb a cold look. "Have you the necessary authorization?"

"No. I did not anticipate Dr. Fallor's grave condition. So there will be a delay, and an additional delay if the specialists feel Dr. Fallor would be best cared for off-world, away from the accident site. However, we are only talking a delay."

Alene inclined her head. She still didn't know why the hell Ceb was nosing around, but he usually got what he wanted. If he wanted a medical authorization, it would be signed by both the Farrese and Interplanetary Judiciaries. Still, she wasn't about to concede the point. "We will discuss that when and if you get the authorization. Have you anything further to discuss with my client?"

"Yes. In investigating Farolavo Power, there is a significant block of funding that can only be traced so far. I would like to know whose money it is."

This time it was Alene that answered. "You can like as much as you want, but everything done in setting up the corporation is perfectly legal."

"You won't tell me."

"I don't see how it can possibly be related to this discussion."

"It potentially has direct relevance." If that funding was Nemizcan Computing, if somehow they were trying two routes into the energy sector, Dreen Pendi probably was the one who had altered the system causing the accident.

"You won't tell me how?"

It was Ceb's turn to shake his head. "No. Impasse?" he suggested with a wintry smile.

"Impasse," Alene agreed. "Any further questions?"

"Yes. I would like Mr. Rostin's comments on the claim that the geothermal portion of the design Farolavo Power is marketing is stolen from Dr. Mitra Kael."

This time there was a reaction. Olan Rostin's face turned purple and the tendons stood out in his scrawny neck. "That design is Mark Laratte's! He worked on it for months. Has she had the nerve to claim it – to try to steal another one of his designs?"

That was sincere shock and fury, Ceb decided. Which meant what? He knew Mitra. She might be capable of a crime of passion, but not theft. So, either Niki was wrong and the designs weren't that similar, or two people had independently had the same idea, or there was not honor among this particular bunch of thieves and Mark Laratte had lied to Olan Rostin.

He said, "It's her brother who makes the claim. I'll be speaking to Dr. Kael shortly."

"I sincerely recommend you do so." Alene's voice was dry. "Keep this up, Ceb, and for once in your life you'll get yourself in trouble. This is bordering on slander and harassment, and my client happens to have a mining colony to run, one that has a few problems if you haven't noticed." She looked from Ceb to Trebur Auta. "I strongly suggest that if you haven't anything more substantial than these fabricated allegations, you let him get on with that."

Ceb coughed, almost apologetically. "Unfortunately, there is something more. As your client was informed at the time he decided to call you, there is direct evidence of tampering prior to the accident, tampering that would mean sabotage. Given Mr. Rostin's direct material benefit from the incident and his position –"

Alene cut in. "Mr. Rostin is not the only party to materially benefit."

"I acknowledge that, and Dr. Pendi is already in custody. However, until such time as the uncertainty can be resolved –" Ceb paused marginally.

My cue, Trebur thought. "Until the situation can be resolved, the Sector Judiciary is placing Mr. Olan Rostin into custody as well."

"You can't do that! The Sector Judiciary has no such authority over Mining Guild autonomy!" Rostin was, if anything, even more purple as he slammed his hands down onto his desk.

"It most certainly has!" Auta fired back. At least I hope it does. This contingency had definitely not been in his briefing. Still, it was too late to back down now. And, the best way he could think of to avoid a debate he might possibly mess up in was to simply do it. He rose decisively and turned to summon Sergeant Giobi and his guards, who were no doubt busy chatting up Rostin's secretary.

It was inconceivable. He was going to be placed in custody in his own office on his own planet. That was impossible. It simply was not going to happen! Rostin reached for the contact to summon his guards. Since the intoxicant supply to the planet was carefully controlled, about all the guards had ever had to deal with was the odd angry miner. But that didn't mean they weren't kept trained and in condition. They were the backbone of emergencies. And too, every now and again a pirate ship tried its luck in the periphery. They had not succeeded yet on a planet he ran.

"Don't!" Ceb's voice was sharp with authority.

But it was with a note of panic in Alene's "Olan!" that stayed his hand.

Trebur, assuming the 'don't' was aimed at him, stopped short of the door and turned.

Both stared at Ceb, standing now, left hand slightly extended, a metallic object in it that Olan didn't recognize but assumed was a weapon.

"Is that Interplanetary Judiciary practice?" Olan asked sarcastically. "To shoot a totally innocent man in his own office?" His hand started towards the contact again.

"Olan! Don't!" It was Alene, and she was watching Ceb, not Olan. "Mr. Windegren," she was suddenly formal, "that is a Level 9 restricted weapon you have aimed at my client."

"Yes, it is, isn't it," Ceb agreed. "And I'm fully trained and authorized to use it. You will no doubt want to see that authorization, but I'm left-handed and that hand is occupied at the moment so please be patient, Mrs. Greenstone." He continued conversationally to Olan Rostin, "Your counsel is a little edgy because of certain aspects of this weapon used in lethal mode. I have, I assure you, no intentions of using it in that way. It is less commonly known that there are nonlethal modes. Apparently your counselor has, in the stress of the moment forgotten. She must know, because she routinely defends various of Zloenni's underlings who have 'mistaken' settings." His voice was intensely sarcastic on the 'mistaken'. "The mode I have it set for will simply incapacitate you until Sector Judiciary guards can be summoned to restrain you. That would however be singularly unpleasant, so I really wouldn't recommend it."

This flow of dry, legal words had the general effect not of calming Olan, but of convincing him that he was staring at a weapon in the hands of a lunatic. He very carefully withdrew his hand from the vicinity of contact and placed both in clear view on the desk.

"That's much better," Ceb said. "Now, what I'm doing is preventing you from being so rash as to start a conflict between the Mining Guild guards and the Farr Sector Judiciary's guards. That would be an unnecessary and disturbing event for the poor citizens of this planet. They have already faced a lot, I'm sure you'll agree. And I'm also sure on reflection that you will realize your Guild would not appreciate your escalating tensions. You are much more likely to face a disciplinary hearing than get a bonus.

"So I strongly recommend you agree to custody while things are sorted out. It can't take that long if the good Mrs. Greenstone does not fight examination of Dr. Fallor, and you must have trained subordinates who can run things for a few days. Then, if," and Ceb let a note of doubt creep into the 'if', "things are resolved in your favor, you will receive a formal apology for the inconvenience."

Olan looked at the weapon, at Ceb's face, at his lawyer, back to the weapon, and resigned himself to the inevitable. "When this is resolved in my favor, I will see more than an apology, Mr. Windegren."

"No doubt." Ceb sighed. "Now Dr. Auta, please get your guards."

***

"What now?" Trebur asked.

"The hospital, although I'm not optimistic there. But first we'd better visit the Mining Guild guards. I really think we should personally acquaint them with the change in command, and try to convince them that they should take orders from you. If they veto that, I will use the authority of the Interplanetary Judiciary and ask them to simply sit on their hands until the Mining Guild sorts out alternate management. What kind of a mood are they in anyways?" The mood at the spaceport hadn't been the best, but Ceb had seen and dealt with worse.

"Nothing great."

***

"Questioning the patient is completely out of question," Dr. Brikel said firmly.

Ceb didn't argue. Dr. Brikel did not look like the type to have his professional opinion questioned. He would just dig in his heels and be less cooperative. "I appreciate your position completely," Ceb said in his most deferential tone. "What I would like to do is put you in contact with specialists who are used to dealing with unstable patients whose testimony is needed. They will not in any way jeopardize his health. They may even have some suggestions on how to stabilize him."

Ceb had already arranged for a guard to be present in Dr. Fallor's room so no accident, or for that matter real suicide attempt from remorse could happen. Dr. Brikel had only been given the suicide reason, and had bought in. Ceb suspected fears of a suicide attempt were a large part of why Dr. Fallor was being sedated, not collusion with Olan Rostin. At least that was a relief.

Dr. Brikel unbent slightly. "Well, I'd be glad enough if they had suggestions. Galaxy knows I could use them. Who do you usually work with?"

*****

Chapter 39

There wasn't going to be an easy way to do this, Niki decided. He had rehearsed maybe twenty different things to say but now that he found himself looking at his sister sitting there so pale and haggard none would come out.

"You have something more to tell us I think, Niki." Dreen said quietly. It wasn't good news either. That didn't surprise him. Niki wouldn't have borrowed the Allegro to pass on good news. He might have come just to to be with Mitra now that she was arrested. But no, that didn't wash either. She had said she hadn't told her family, and when he had chided her about that, she'd pointed out that he hadn't called his mother either. He had said that it was different and when she had said how, they had spent a couple hours skirting around the edges of a really good fight that neither of them wanted to brave. So presumably it was something Niki and Joran felt had to be said in person. Dreen put a protective arm around Mitra's shoulders.

Niki started obliquely. "Have either of you ever heard of Farolavo Power?"

Dreen shook his head immediately. Mitra took a moment, going over a list of energy companies in her head. She knew a lot. "No," she said at last. "Why?"

Niki looked down at his hands and saw Ceb's cuff riding above his own. "Hell! Look, I forgot I was wired for sound and that everything we are saying is being recorded by the Interplanetary Judiciary. I'm not sure what I said before that shouldn't be recorded for posterity, but this should be recorded properly. Dreen, could you answer no, not just shake your head."

The Interplanetary Judiciary? Dreen looked at Niki, then at the sound system where the doctored Anton album was playing. So their very intimate conversation was being recorded by the Interplanetary Judiciary, but the Farr Sector's Judiciary and the Mining Guild weren't to hear anything? "First, I think you had better tell me why you are wired for sound."

"Not by choice, I assure you." Niki looked at the cuff with distaste. "I'm not even sure the damn thing comes off. I asked Ceb about that. He wasn't exactly reassuring."

"Uncle Ceb is here?" Mitra was confused.

"Believe me, Sis, he is not Uncle Ceb on this trip. He is Mr. Ceb Windegren, Interplanetary Judiciary Member, and a lot more senior than you or I realized by the way he's acting." Then to Dreen, "We're talking about C.C.'s dad. Mitra and I grew up in their house as much as in ours, so we call him uncle but we aren't relatives. So when I, well, I found out some things I didn't like about the Drezvir mess, I didn't know who to go to. So I went to Ceb. Apparently it was the right thing to do, since he has taken over."

"I'm sure you mean well, Niki, but I really think Mitra and I should holoconference our lawyer into this before you go any further."

"I don't know if you should." Niki bit his lip nervously. He hadn't thought to ask Ceb about that. Then at Dreen's frown, "Look, I don't care, although I'd worry about electronic eavesdropping on the call. That's why I've been sitting close and talking quietly even with the album playing. But I honestly don't know if it's okay with Ceb or not. I kind of got the impression he told Juttar Kommur all he intended to tell him before we left Plenata."

"Juttar Kommur knew this was going to happen?" Juttar was going to hear about this minor omission in his conversations, Dreen vowed.

Niki nodded. "Yeah, he got involved when there was the screw up and you got arrested by mistake. He and Ceb talked it over and decided it was safest to leave it that way."

"We got arrested by mistake?" Mitra's eyes were wide. "Niki, what are you talking about?"

"It was supposed to be protective custody, but somewhere along the line there was a screwup."

"Niki! Start at the beginning and try to make sense. You know you can when you really put your mind to it."

Dreen nodded, then corrected himself and spoke. "I think you'd better try, Niki. We'll just say that if the conversation gets to where we should have a lawyer, Mitra and I will just reserve comment, all right?"

"Sure, but if you've figured out a way to get Sis to watch her mouth, you're ahead of the rest of the galaxy."

Dreen smiled. He could get to like Mitra's brother. "There's an energy company neither Mitra or I know of?" he prompted.

"Yes, I was checking them out. When I got to reading their prospectus, they're marketing a system almost identical to the hybrid."

"Niki!" Mitra was appalled. "You're supposed to stay out of the energy sector. You'll get in trouble."

"I wasn't going to invest in them, Mitra." Then at Dreen's puzzled look he added, "I'm a financial analyst. I've been warned that with Mitra's position at Dellmaice Power trading in the energy sector would be seen as insider trading."

"That was because Niki had his license pulled once already, and since they couldn't understand what he was doing, they figured it might be insider trading," Mitra elaborated.

"Thanks Mitra. I needed that recorded somewhere in the annals of the Interplanetary Judiciary. Anyways, the reason I looked at the company was that Collan Rydler insisted I look." Then for Dreen's benefit, "He's a venture capital analyst. He didn't like the way they were capitalizing on the Drezvir accident. I mean, they were bound to make the best of it but they were too fast off the mark with the kind of sensational campaign you can't pull together fast."

"Chett's rat." Dreen said slowly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Chett Linderson, the man currently running Nemizcan for me. When he got back from Drezvir he said the situation stunk, but he couldn't figure out exactly how. He just said to keep my eyes open."

"Dreen, you're being ridiculous!" Mitra was tired of this, they had been over this ground too many times before. "It was an accident, a mis-design somehow - I don't know how." Mitra ran her hand through her bristly hair. "Just somehow."

"It's not that ridiculous, Mitra." Niki had to get the worst part out first. He'd tell her about the stolen geothermal unit later. "You see, when I finally sorted out who is behind Farolavo power, it's Olan Rostin and Durstin Fallor, and -" Niki stopped abruptly. He simply couldn't say it.

One of Joran's better oaths was recorded for posterity in Dreen's voice. Grim faced he shook his head. "Even Chett wasn't thinking in that direction, and he has a much more suspicious mind than I do."

But Mitra was watching her brother's face. "And who Niki? Who are you afraid to tell me about, Niki?" Her voice was sharp.

He took a deep breath. "Mark is the other partner."

"Hell!" Mitra couldn't help it. Tears stung her eyes. Wouldn't she ever be free of Mark's ghost?

Dreen felt her trembling. He tightened his grip on her shoulders and half turned, tenderly kissing the top of her head. "It's all right love, it's all right."

Niki watched the action, Dreen's expression, heard his tone of voice. He really loves her. Niki had never been sure Mark was capable of loving anyone but himself. He answered the question in Dreen's eyes. "Mark Laratte. He and Mitra were engaged."

The son-of-a-bitch from Dellmaice Power he and Chett had wondered about. Dreen felt a wave of total helplessness. She still cared. "Come here." He pulled Mitra to her feet. "If I keep holding you like this you'll hurt your bottom again." Dreen folded Mitra into his arms. This time it was Dreen who answered the blank look on Niki's face. "Didn't she tell you? She broke her tailbone a few days ago."

"C.C." Mitra said succinctly into Dreen's shirt.

To Dreen's surprise Niki laughed.

"Do you mean he can finally throw you? Do you have any idea how you used to mess up his ego? I mean no self-respecting seventeen-year-old man likes to lose one hundred percent of his rounds to a less than forty kilo girl."

"You mean that's what happened?" It just slipped out before Dreen could stop himself.

"More or less." Mitra felt it prudent to totally omit C.C.'s proposal. "What did you think? Sometimes I think you're going to spend your life jealous of every man I know."

"Quite probably," Dreen murmured into her hair. "I'm sorry he's still hurting you so much."

That took some working out since Mitra's mind was still on C.C. For a moment she thought he meant her tailbone, then she pieced it together. "Mark? I don't want to ever see him again!" She stepped back, far enough that she could look up at Dreen. "I won't pretend I didn't fall for Mark. He can be very charming when he wants to be. But when things go wrong..." She shrugged. "Maybe I was just lucky to find out what that side of him was like early on."

"But you still care. That's all right." Dreen wiped a tear.

"Those are frustration, or fury, you idiot! Take your pick." This time she was the one to give Dreen a reassuring hug. "Don't you ever just feel like you'll never see the last of someone or something?"

Yes, like Drezvir. Dreen focused. "What else is it that you want to tell us, Niki?"

"Mitra are you okay sitting back down for the rest?"

"It's getting worse?" Her tone was flippant but there was worry in her eyes. As Niki didn't answer, she slowly came over and painfully sat down. Dreen followed, wondering what could possibly be worse.

*****

Chapter 40

"Do you remember when you were visiting home, and you were all excited telling me about your idea for improving seating the geothermal units."

Mitra nodded. "I've told myself I should get back to it, cooped up here, but..." She trailed off and shrugged.

Niki gave her knee a sympathetic squeeze. "Anyways, I didn't one hundred percent focus, I'm no engineer. But every now and again you were just so excited I did tune in, and you know my memory is good."

Mitra nodded, anger rising. She knew what was coming. Damn that Durstin, underfoot like a puppy dog, asking questions. Just spying!

"As far as I can tell, they are marketing your new design."

"No doubt" Mitra said with resignation. "Have you got anything I can look at?"

Niki handed over the memory pac with the prospectus and other documents on it. Mitra put it in her compad and gave it a quick scan. All of the improvements they were claiming were the ones she had been excited about. She handed it back to Niki with a sigh. "Well, at least you can say Durstin was thorough. It's all there."

"Do you have any proof it is your design Mitra? Or is it all in your head?" Dreen asked.

"I'm still carting the memory pac around. Since I never went back to Dellmaice Power, I worked on it now and again on Gingezel when you were busy."

"You were working on a design on your holiday?" She had certainly fooled him.

"I didn't say. I thought it might be a turnoff."

Having retrieved her tote, Mitra was rummaging through it tossing items that were in her way onto the couch. She came to Joran's necklace in it's beautiful jeweler's box and, smiling a wicked smile so like Niki's, handed it to him. "Catching up on family news, this is from your hero Anton."

"Mmm." He cautiously eased up the lid. On Chelan's advice Niki had re-watched Anton singing M's song with his sister in mind. Given the present company he wasn't sure what to say. That was one impressive necklace though, an exact match of Anton's if his memory was accurate.

Dreen gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm used to Joran by now. It doesn't mean anything."

"If you say so," Niki agreed doubtfully. Either love was blind or Dreen had slept through that song.

Another handful of stuff, mostly nut packs and half eaten candy bars hit the couch.

"Sis, this stuff is half petrified. Don't you ever clean that thing out?"

"No. The last time I cleaned it out, I threw away a bunch of stuff then needed it." Mitra dug right down to the bottom. "Here it is!" She produced the memory pac.

"Then you can probably prove the design is yours." Dreen said. That was one thing he had learned about Mitra. Her work, if not her life, was organized. She always had documented reasons behind each idea with full notes and dates.

"I don't know how much it matters. I figured out a totally better way to do it." She gave Dreen a tired smile. "But I haven't documented the new idea." She looked at the memory pac in her hand. "I suppose I really should quit playing computer games and try to get the new idea down and ship it to Ari so he can get someone started on it."

"Sis ..." Niki looked from one to the other and gave up.

"She has been flatly refusing to listen to the news," Dreen said to Niki. "I honestly did try to tell her."

"Tell me what?"

"Let me do the honors," Niki volunteered since Dreen looked acutely uncomfortable. "You don't work for Ari Dellmaice anymore."

"Of course I do! He hasn't fired me and you said the arrest isn't for real."

"No you don't. You're standing beside your new boss and Ari is the one who was fired."

"Not funny, Niki."

"Not a joke, Sis. I mean it. Nemizcan Computing took over Dellmaice Power and has announced they are turfing Ari.

Mitra still didn't believe Niki. "Dreen..." She turned to him with imploring eyes.

"Actually, you work for Chett for as long as he's running Nemizcan. But the rest is right," Dreen said apologetically. She looked really upset and he could feel her shifting position every couple seconds.

"You've taken over Dellmaice Power?" It sounded bizarre, but Dreen did look like he meant it. Despite the pain it caused Mitra twisted further to see his face better.

"That's right."

Well, that didn't really bother Mitra. Business stuff was always happening. But the news about Ari did. If she wasn't, if they weren't all working for him... She was too tired, too confused. Mitra blinked back tears. "But why get rid of Ari? Ari is Dellmaice Power."

"Because." Dreen's chin was set, and his tone was totally inflexible. "Because there is no way I'm letting my wife work for that son-of-a-bitch!"

Mitra said, "Your wife? Dreen, are you finally proposing to me?" She had her hands on her hips and looked totally exasperated. "Or are you just jumping to conclusions?"

Dreen shifted her elbow until it wasn't poking him then lifted Mitra's chin with his hand. "Am I jumping to conclusions, love?"

"No." Mitra was lost in his smile, the look in his eyes. She slid her arms around his neck for a kiss that was awkward enough she probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight or sit tomorrow and passionate and tender enough she didn't care.

That was rather nicely done, Niki thought. And it confirmed his suspicions that the few romantic holodramas he'd been forced to watch weren't at all like real life.

They certainly weren't like his proposal to Sanja. In fact, that had been an accident, a result of talking out loud when he was thinking. He had always been quite sure if he ever proposed to a woman, and that wasn't high on his list of priorities, he would do it properly with wine, flowers, soft music, and a pretty ring. But it had been a singularly nasty, sleety, depressing morning just after Chelan got sick. It had felt like the Allegro was taking forever to get to Plenata, and he'd been cooking them an omelette for breakfast. Niki had heard himself saying, "I don't ever want this to end."

He had put down the spatula and turned to Sanja who was sipping orange juice and checking her morning email. "I don't want the temptation of going back to my apartment and my old lifestyle." There was no sense lying. They both knew perfectly well that given time to drift he would. "Will you marry me?"

She had stood up, come over to him, and said very sensibly, "Pay attention. You're going to burn the omelette. Give me the spatula." Sanja had added herbs, folded the omelette, waited until it was the perfect almost still liquid but not quite anymore stage and split it. Then she had shoved him aside with her hip because he had been getting in the way nuzzling her neck. She had put the omelettes on their plates and garnished them.

Only then had she turned to him, pushing a lock of her hair out of her face and looking at him with those beautiful almond eyes. "Niki, how much do you mean that and how much is stress talking?"

"I mean it."

They had kissed then, eaten the omelettes, and gone to work. Niki had arranged to do it properly that night. He had canceled one of the few appointments he had anymore and braved the storm to buy a ring. Then he had booked a private table at the best restaurant in town. But he knew when he was an old man he would remember the omelette breakfast not the supper later.

The sound of the door opening brought Niki out of his reminiscences. Mitra and Dreen were still oblivious to anything, so he stood to tell Ceb what was going on. But this wasn't Ceb.

A stern faced guard looked disapprovingly at Dreen and Mitra, then said, "Dr. Pendi is to come with me."

*****

Chapter 41

Looking at the serious, almost grim expressions on the faces of Trebur Auta and the stranger he presumed was Ceb Windegren, Dreen decided that Niki had been misleadingly optimistic. He was definitely not out of trouble yet. "Gentlemen?"

Trebur rose. "Please sit down Dr. Pendi. This is Mr. Ceb Windegren from the Interplanetary Judiciary, and I would appreciate your answering some questions from him. You may, of course, have your lawyer present by holoconference."

Niki had definitely got it wrong. Very wrong. This was the most formal treatment he'd had since the day he arrived, barring his arrest of course. "Thank you. Would you please arrange that holoconference?"

In an apparent attempt to pass the wait civilly, Ceb said, "Dr. Pendi, I understand from my son, C.C., that you are both friends of Joran Lantonnel. I had the good fortune to ride here in the Allegro. Fascinating experience."

Since as far as he knew half of the mods done to the Allegro were illegal, Dreen contented himself with a nod. Fortunately, Juttar's image arrived at that point.

Ceb spoke before he could. "Mr. Kommur, we are having a series of formal, recorded interviews, the current one with your client, Dr. Pendi. He has requested your presence prior to the questioning."

Galaxy. What was the screwup this time? Ceb hadn't called him Mr. Kommur in the better part of a decade. "We are always cooperative with either the Farr Sector or Interplanetary Judiciary, Mr. Windegren. How can we help?"

Trebur was inclined to take issue with the use of the word cooperative. Since he'd had no idea whether or not Dreen and Mitra were to be kept separate, he had wanted to err on the side of caution and keep them apart. This Kommur man had given him a very rough ride. As a consequence, perhaps more aggressively than necessary, he said, "Dr. Pendi, you have been using certain Anton albums to prevent recording of your personal conversations. We now have evidence that these albums have been deliberately altered to enhance the masking of such conversation. In the situation you have been in, that is deliberate obstruction of justice. Can you explain this?"

Juttar looked at Dreen, and didn't like what he saw. He said, "What proof?"

"That of one of the galaxy's most competent Sound Masters," Ceb said. "We can wait while you spend however many days confirming the analysis, if, of course you don't already know all about it." His tone was dry.

"I know nothing about it." Juttar was not pleased with whatever game Dreen and Joran had got themselves up to. "Dreen?" Juttar still didn't like that look.

"I have no comment." He couldn't betray Bojo's trust.

Ceb said, "Am I to take it that you did not know about this, and the responsibility rests solely on Joran Lantonnel, or others at AntonCorp.? Our expert says Timoth didn't do the work."

Dreen had to think that one over. He didn't want to get Joran in trouble by saying it was all his fault, but he didn't want to start down the slippery slope of admitting he knew all about it. He'd no doubt end up saying something he shouldn't and give Bojo away.

Ceb gave him a few moments, then continued conversationally, "Dr. Pendi, is this your idea of cooperation? We know the albums are altered. We know they were hand-delivered from Joran Lantonnel. Either he made them for you, or he had them already and was simply opportunistic. If the latter, since they originated on Gingezel I have some serious questions about whether or not he's playing fast and loose with civil rights there. And, if so, I have some even harder questions for their Head of Security, Ralin Heusgar. At the very best he's looking at a Charter Review."

Now what was he supposed to do? Dreen said, stalling, "I'm fully prepared to cooperate on any technical issues."

"Dreen," Juttar said, forestalling complaints from either Auta or Ceb, "I don't know what you're up to, but obstructing justice is a serious charge and you are already in enough trouble. Keep up this current behavior, and you'll prejudice both of these gentlemen against you and be looking at charges. After all, I'm your lawyer and you're prejudicing me. Let's try it again, Dreen, and I want an answer as much as they do. What game are you and Joran playing?"

Dreen gave up. "I think you'd better call Joran."

"And if he's no more cooperative than you are?" Juttar asked.

"Then we'll have to go with the current situation."

Terrific. Dreen was not going to budge a micron, that was obvious. And Joran? How should he know since they hadn't bothered to tell him about this little stunt in the first place. Juttar gave Dreen a 'you're going to hear about this' look, then said formally, "Would a slight delay be acceptable? I would like to contact Mr. Lantonnel. Unfortunately he has been composing lately, so that may mean contacting Mr. Camrail, who unfortunately is also composing, to go and disturb him."

"Please do so," Ceb said. "Your speaking to Mr. Camrail first would be preferable in any case. But please make sure he knows I wish to speak to Mr. Lantonnel and Mr. Heusgar, and that full security is required on all transmissions."

That was an order. So Ceb wanted Bojo in the loop. Well, he could think about the implications of that while Bojo ran around. "I'll arrange that, sir," Juttar said, and broke connection.

***

Dreen decided that Juttar and Joran must have had one of their really vicious fights. Where he personally tended to be tolerant of Joran to the point of making excuses for him, Juttar wasn't. And when those two went at each other they knew how to make it hurt. Joran looked – Dreen search for the word – and rather to his surprise came up with scared. Juttar looked sullen, so Dreen was guessing all he got out of Joran was an agreement to be in on the conference call. Ralin Heusgar was looking stiff, formal, and totally displeased with events. He was a middle-aged man with regular features, blue eyes, and curly blond hair that had darkened over the years. He was mid-height and in good shape. There was no sign of Bojo.

Introductions were made, and Ceb said, "Mr. Lantonnel, first, may I thank you for the use of the Allegro."

"No problem." Joran's nod was as wary as Dreen's had been about the Allegro. Then his chin came up. If there was trouble, he may as well get through it. Juttar had said Dreen was doing his clam routine. "Look, I understand there's trouble about those albums of mine. Using them on Drezvir wasn't Dreen's idea. They were already in my possession, and I thought it would be a good idea." Joran looked straight at Ceb Windegren. "I don't like eavesdropping."

"Joran." Juttar's voice was repressive.

"Well, I don't." Joran looked from Ceb Windegren to Trebur Auta and added, "But if it was a dumb idea and I caused problems for Dreen, I'm sorry."

Trebur wasn't inclined to let it rest at that. "Dr. Pendi started using those albums the moment they arrived. That implies he knew of their existence, and their purpose." Then, when there was silence, "Dr. Pendi?"

Dreen looked at Joran, who nodded imperceptibly. Screwing around with the Allegro was one thing, but he'd learned from setting up Gingezel that you didn't cross the Interplanetary Judiciary on big stuff.

"I knew of their existence because I, or more accurately staff members of mine, did the work on them at my request. I take full responsibility for that work though," Dreen said. "The staff members were just working to my instructions."

"And they were deliberately modified to mask conversation?" Trebur asked.

"Yes."

"Look," Joran intervened. "I'm prepared to come clean, but not to an audience where it really isn't their business. I swear sending them to Drezvir was pure opportunism. So, no offense intended, but could Dr. Auta possibly take a coffee break?"

Ceb said, "Mr. Lantonnel is probably right, Dr. Auta. If these discussions concern the Gingezel charter, you should not be privy to them. When the focus returns to Drezvir, I'll call you back immediately, so please don't go far."

Rather disappointed both because he was actually talking to Anton live, and because he'd love to snoop about Gingezel, Trebur left. He probably wasn't even allowed to say Anton was part of the Gingezel consortium.

"You too, Juttar. Get lost!" There was an edge to Joran's voice. If Juttar had a few things to say privately to him later, well, he had a few things to say back.

Juttar honestly felt bad. He knew he'd thrown in a few threats, like if Joran wasn't going to tell him what was going on, he could get a new lawyer, but they'd just been threats. Surely Joran knew that, and that he wouldn't leave him high and dry. "Joran, it really sounds like you need me."

That got a half smile. "Duty winning, Juttar? No," there was no edge now, "I mean it. You weren't mixed up in this and you shouldn't be now. Clear out."

Juttar gave an appealing look to Dreen.

"Joran's right. There is no way you want to hear this, Juttar."

Juttar looked from one inflexible face to the other.

"Look," Joran said, "we can out-wait you, but Mr. Windegren here will get pretty cranky. Goodbye."

Juttar gave the pair one last look that did not bode well for their next conversation and said, "I'll be waiting here until I hear from someone," and broke contact. Then Juttar allowed himself one of his rare lapses into profanity. What were those two up to?

*****

Chapter 42

Ralin Heusgar's bearing was ramrod stiff as he gave Joran a stony stare. "If there has been any possibility of a compromise to the security of Gingezel, or the civil liberty of the citizens as provided under the Gingezel charter, you aren't getting rid of me Joran."

"I know Ralin." Joran turned appealing eyes to Ceb Windegren. "I honestly don't know if I did something wrong or not. I'm not that great at legal stuff. That's why Juttar and Ralin here ride herd on me. But I realize that if I did screw up, it's a first-class screwup this time. You weren't part of setting up the charter, Mr. Windegren, but you're senior enough at the Judiciary," Joran had got around to finally doing that research once Ceb was already on the Allegro, "that you should know about it. And I didn't mean to violate it.

"I made the revised albums here, and we deliberately – actually worked damn hard – to have them mask conversation. But the only reason we did them here is because this is where my equipment is now. I didn't even think about it being Gingezel, or the Gingezel charter because –" Joran came to an abrupt stop, realizing what he had almost said.

"Because they weren't meant for use there?"

"Hell!"

"Joran, the appropriate phrase is 'no comment'," Dreen reminded him.

"No it isn't." Joran shook his head. "I was afraid this would happen if I opened my fucking mouth – no offense. I'm no good at this stuff, and I'll say everything wrong. Look Mr. Windegren, can I just let someone else talk to you?"

"I think that's a good idea," Ceb said, suppressing a smile. Joran Lantonnel was turning out to be pretty much what he'd expected from talk around the Interplanetary Judiciary. Totally candid, heart in the right place, and an extraordinary amount of trouble.

"He is here." Joran pressed a contact. "Bojo, would you please come in here and bail me out!"

Bojo stepped into sight. "I wasn't leaving you in a rough spot, Joran. I just wanted to be sure you were through talking about the Gingezel charter. Are you?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't even know how badly I fucked up." He looked at Ceb Windegren. "You're calling it."

Ceb sighed, mentally echoing the general opinion around the Judiciary of 'what do you do with this man?'. "I believe you that you didn't think. The next time you're tempted to pull a stunt like this, talk to Mr. Kommur or Mr. Heusgar. They are both sensible men and would have had you contact us. As it is, if these albums don't keep cropping up where they weren't intended, I'll take this conversation as belatedly doing what you should have done initially."

Joran blinked. "You mean that's it? I'm not getting locked up or anything?"

This time Ceb had to smile. "No Joran, no more than you will be with the Allegro as long as you and Jon sit on those patents. But you could try talking to your legal counsel now and again."

"I do, but Juttar's a pain. But right now, I think you have things to talk to Bojo about, and is it all right if I just leave? I mean, I support Bojo, but I've got too big a mouth. I try real hard to stay ignorant."

"Probably wise," Ceb said dryly. "Please just stay where I can contact you instantly for an hour or so in case any more questions crop up."

"Will do." Joran nodded with relief and was gone.

Ceb turned to Dreen. "I think you are in the same position as Mr. Lantonnel, Dr. Pendi. It would be just as well if you were not party to this conversation. If you could wait with Dr. Auta? As you appear to be a much more cautious man than Mr. Lantonnel, I trust there isn't much risk of your discussing your present situation without my being present."

"No." Dreen smiled apologetically. "I am sorry, I wasn't trying to be difficult. I simply wasn't in a position to speak. Now, if you'll excuse me." He left, sincerely wondering how much trouble he'd got Bojo into.

Ceb turned his attention to Bojo with considerable curiosity, content to let him take the lead. If Joran had a reputation around the Judiciary of having a talent for trouble, Bojo Camrail was an enigma.

Bojo was in turn studying Ceb Windegren. He knew of him of course, but there had never been a natural reason for them to meet. Now he saw a nondescript, faded man in his sixties, a man like tens of thousands of other men in the galaxy. "You are Mr. Ceb Windegren, Interplanetary Judiciary?"

"That's correct, Mr. Camrail. By the way, may I compliment you on the start of your solo career. You have an extraordinary voice."

"Thank you." Bojo hesitated for only a moment. "Before we proceed, I request full biometric confirmation of your identity."

"Bojo!" Ralin was mortified. "You can't ask that from a senior member of the Judiciary." While varying degrees of biometric identification were a part of everyday life, accessing the full, highly secure central registry that contained full, not partial biometrics, plus a lot more information about who the average citizen was than they realized, was rarely done. Indeed, it was seen as an invasion of privacy by most, and an extreme insult by some. It was also slow and expensive.

Ceb intervened. "Mr. Camrail's protocol is correct under the circumstances. I request the same for both of you." He didn't know how else to not insult Bojo Camrail. He couldn't imagine anyone allowing the surgery required to make him a body double for Camrail, but the man was probably sensitive to his deformity.

Bojo nodded gravely. "I consent."

Ralin, with more reluctance, accepted as well, and the process was completed.

"Now, for the record," Bojo said, "I did not eavesdrop on your conversation with Joran. I'm assuming though he told you Dreen didn't know he was getting those albums until they arrived."

"More or less."

"I'd better make it clear that I was the one who put the idea in Joran's head. I knew Dreen would be responsible and cooperate fully with the investigators on all technical issues. At same time I knew he had a major corporation to help run whether or not Chett was in charge, and," Bojo's grave expression lightened, "an ongoing romance. He's a private person and I thought he'd be uncomfortable being monitored in either case."

"You're another objector to eavesdropping?" Ceb asked, thoroughly expecting yes as an answer.

"The morality never entered my decision. I simply never thought anyone would pick up on the albums being altered."

"I see," Ceb said, then looked harder at Bojo. "Or do I?"

"I quit thinking I have magic answers on social structure some time ago," Bojo said matter-of-factly. "If the legal structure there works for the Farr Sector citizens, and they are happy, it's their choice. I simply knew it wouldn't work for Dreen."

"And the original intent for the albums?"

"Ennup 10." Bojo's expression was grim again. "They're doing another housecleaning, rounding up dissidents and innocents. I know of two deaths, good people. A lot have been arrested, scared thoroughly, and released. There are another six I simply can't find out about. For their sakes I hope they're dead. Do you happen to know from our mutual friend?" That was as close as Bojo intended to come to saying he knew Ceb had a group of operatives on Ennup 10. He personally only knew Witieral was the leader, and it was safer if he didn't know the rest.

Ceb's expression was a match for Bojo's. "No. I know less than you do. I had no figures on the arrests. Our friend is sixteen days late reporting in."

This was not good news. "Do you want me to try to find out? To be honest, the idea worries me if he's just lying low. I'm not exactly above suspicion and I don't want to aim any his way. In theory he has a legitimate reason to be snooping a bit, but..." Bojo let that trail off. If Witieral hadn't reported to Ceb that he was checking out all of the Bojo's factories on the pretense of endorsing some merchandise, he shouldn't say. And Ralin was listening. And who knew what security breaking technology the Farr Sector might have.

"Leave it another couple weeks. He's resourceful." And what was this legitimate reason for snooping? Ceb made a mental note to talk to Bojo once he was safely out of the Farr Sector.

"I hope so." Bojo made a face. "I feel so useless. I'm simply not in a position to make any political moves yet. I suppose that was why I made those albums. I thought it was practical help and I've distributed as many as I could without drawing attention to the fact. But if it's obvious they're altered, I've made things worse."

"I don't think obvious."

"Someone there spotted it. I mean, I know there are a couple spots with marginally different sound, but if there's conversation, you think it's the conversation. I really thought it would take a Sound Master to tell."

"It did, the best, no offense to Timoth."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Dr. Auta is a suspicious man. He gave them to Jeena Cavella."

A slow warm smile transformed Bojo's face. "Jeena? You mean she's been hiding out in the Farr Sector?"

"Apparently she's a technical sound analyst for their Environmental Protection Agency."

"Jeena!"

*****

Chapter 43

"Niki," Mitra demanded bluntly, "are you sure you aren't the one who's screwed up? I don't know why Dreen had to go talk to Ceb, and this is taking way too long."

She was starting to get really scared. At first, the way Niki was talking she'd let herself think things were fine. And then Dreen had proposed, and she'd known, just known they were finally going to get out of this nightmare. She'd jinxed them, being stupid like that. She never should have let herself even hope until she was on a spaceship. No, until they were both on a spaceship. She wasn't leaving without Dreen.

None of this was Dreen's fault. If anyone had made a mistake in design, it was more likely her than him. It was so hard to be sure you had covered every possible operating state of a reactor when it came to reality, not theory. Maybe she should just say so, and get all of this over with. Maybe she should have days ago, and not been stupid, hoping against hope they would finally find a fault. They hadn't. They wouldn't. So Niki could talk against Mark as much as he wanted to, but Mark couldn't have caused the accident. If he had, Tranngol would have seen it. Mark was a thief, that's all. She was the one who'd screwed up. She should just go say so. Telling Uncle Ceb wouldn't be as bad as telling that Auta, and then Dreen could leave with Niki and –

"Mitra! Did you hear a thing I just said?" Niki was watching his sister with alarm. She was looking really panicky.

"Of course." Maybe she should call the guard now and –

"All right. What did I say?" There was no response and Niki repeated, "All right, what did I say?"

"That you screwed up and we're still in trouble."

"I said no such thing." So that was what she was thinking. "I said that I checked everything out twice myself, then had Collan Rydler check it. Ceb took it seriously enough to come here. Now, I know you're scared but –"

"But Niki, if you're saying Mark or Durstin caused the accident, why didn't Tranngol find it? I –"

Niki put a finger to her lips. "Mitra. Let be. You're going to say something you shouldn't just because you're scared. If you do, it's going to get recorded." He cast frantically for a distraction. "Look, while we're waiting how about you tell me if you've seen any of Dad's historical cities. You didn't exactly keep in touch."

"Niki, you can't talk vacation now."

"Have you any better ideas? Do you want to play a game?"

"No, I do not want to play a game! I also do not want talk vacation!"

"But you're going to. You can't just sit there worrying. Now, do you think Dad designed that first place you went to? What was it called?"

"Crescent Bay. I don't know... I've been wondering, I mean it was right out of a historical drama, but it wasn't like anywhere particular." Mitra took a slow breath. Niki was right. She'd try to calm down.

***

Ceb expected to find Trebur and Dreen sitting in uncomfortable silence, but when he stepped out Trebur was explaining how he would never in a lifetime have guessed Jeena was Sound Master for Also Ran.

They had got there by way of his asking Dreen how long he'd known Joran, and whether or not any bands had preceded The Anton Band. It seemed to Dreen a harmless way to be civil, and he'd been telling Trebur about various short-lived bands while they all roomed together.

"Gentlemen."

Dreen and Trebur started rather guiltily.

They filed back into Trebur's office where a very subdued Juttar Kommur was already present by holoconference. He hadn't pieced things together until he put Bojo, not Joran, at the center of the mess. Then he'd come up with a reasonably accurate picture, including the reason why Ceb had implicitly put Bojo in the loop. And Ceb was right. It was totally inappropriate for him to know what the Interplanetary Judiciary was or wasn't doing on Ennup 10. So he'd swung from being furious with Dreen and Joran to not wanting to compound problems.

"I think," Ceb began, "that if your client is prepared to be more cooperative on issues directly relating to the accident we can say that the album incident was simply a misguided move by all concerned." He allowed himself a smile. "Mr. Lantonnel is singularly prone to them."

Juttar wasn't sure if this was a swipe at him, at Joran, or an attempt to take the focus off Bojo. He said stiffly, "I do try to restrain him."

"I know." Ceb allowed another wintry smile. "He's on record now saying your a pain, so he must at least hear, if not listen. But we digress." He turned his attention to Dreen. "Dr. Pendi, have you ever heard of Farolavo Power?"

"Not until Niki Kael told me about them just now."

"For your benefit Mr. Kommur, Farolavo Power is an energy company launched by Olan Rostin, Dr. Durstin Fallor, and Dr. Mark Laratte to market a system very similar to the Dellmaice Power hybrid installed here on Drezvir.

Juttar's face stayed expressionless as this missing piece of why Ceb was interfering fell into place. It certainly explained protective custody, and why he left an arrest as an arrest. It did not explain why he wanted to continue talking to Dreen now that the albums were sorted out. That was coming though, if he knew Ceb.

Ceb said, "Now, Dr. Pendi, this may seem like a non sequitur, but why did you ask Azlo Mirelle to look for evidence the system here had been hacked?"

"I'd put a couple of my staff members onto the possibility that the system had been hacked into, and they said they'd found a way to cause the accident."

"That begs the question somewhat. Why did you put your staff members onto it?"

"Initially, I was pretty much grasping at straws. Hackers were on my mind from trouble we were having with the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb beta system." Dreen really wanted to cooperate, but he didn't know what Ceb's relationship was to his son. Also he still couldn't bring himself to get Leeth Kembel into this 'prove your innocence' nightmare he was in.

"Initially? And then?"

Dreen gave an appealing look at Juttar. He wanted to cooperate, he really did, but he did not intend to insult this man. He now desperately wished he'd discussed all this with Juttar. He also wished he and Juttar were even a fraction as good at nonverbal conversation as he and Joran were. But those years of estrangement over Jiane, and Juttar's years of wearing a courtroom mask had taken their toll. Dreen wanted to say Juttar looked encouraging, but he couldn't honestly tell.

After a moment's silence Juttar said, "Mr. Windegren and I have already discussed Chett's suspicions of C.C." He was not going to put words in Dreen's mouth. Chett might be flying solo on this. "In that discussion Mr. Windegren was candid and said there was a hacker, a Leeth Kembel on the terraformer staff." Dreen's face answered that. He knew Leeth Kembel was on Drezvir, so Chett probably wasn't solo. Still, he'd better let Dreen speak for himself. "Do you share Chett's suspicions?"

Trying to be honest Dreen said, "I don't know. I realize C.C. is on record opposing a lot of the plans for biohazard waste storage on Drezvir. And I know that Leeth Kembel is, no," Dreen stopped himself, "that's inaccurate – was – the caliber of hacker that could have broken our system. We didn't go to the sort of trouble we might have for a non-standalone system, so it's not that hard in one way to hack. What's hard is to cause an accident the operators or the ContSaft system wouldn't catch. I honestly don't know if Leeth Kembel is still that good.

"But even if he is, that doesn't mean he did cause the accident or that C.C. wanted him to. There's a very big jump between talking a lot to the press like C.C. does, and engineering the kind of fatal accident that happened here. And, to be candid, I'm not very comfortable with this conversation. I've already caused Leeth Kembel a lot of grief in his life. I don't want what could be pure speculation on my part to put him in the situation I'm in, of trying to prove innocence. That is if there ever is positive evidence the system has been hacked. It would be an even worse nightmare to have to prove you didn't hack the system in some way that left no trace."

Trebur was about to both ask what relationship there was between Dreen Pendi and Leeth Kembel, and to say that the hacking wasn't hypothetical, that Azlo had found evidence, but a barely perceptible shake of the head from Ceb stopped him.

Ceb said, with an audible sigh, "That is a remarkably succinct and accurate statement of the situation with my son. Has C.C. finally gone beyond the mouthing-off stage? Believe me, Dr. Pendi, my son and I will be having a very serious talk later today, and the fact he's my son won't get him any favoritism."

Ceb reflected for a moment that actually, it might be to C.C.'s disadvantage. He was getting remarkably tired of that boy. At times he suspected C.C. would turn out to be more trouble than Joran Lantonnel. He knew as a certainty he'd been alarmed when C.C. started hanging around with Joran. The potential that pair had for messing up was mind boggling. But, as Beti had repeatedly reminded him, although it was an honor to work on Gingezel, it really was just fine tuning an already beautiful planet, allowing humans to introduce their favorite species without imbalance. And nothing disastrous had come of it.

Ceb forced his mind back to the present. "There is however, another possibility we have to explore, Dr. Pendi. If anyone was in a position to know how to hack the system it would be you, or one of your staff members."

That brought Juttar to life. "What possible reason would Dreen have for doing that?"

"Not reason, reasons. One would be to have done it recently, to throw suspicion onto someone else."

"To frame your son? You have to mean that since I didn't know Farolavo Power existed." Dreen was shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I couldn't do that to a total stranger, much less someone I like, like C.C."

"The other reason would be purely financial and presume you planned the accident." Ceb waited to see who said something first, Dreen or Juttar.

It was Dreen, looking slowly from Ceb to Trebur. "I see. You're presuming our takeover of Dellmaice Power was pre-planned, not opportunistic."

"Major changes of corporate direction of that magnitude usually are."

"Yes." Dreen rubbed his face. "And I don't suppose it will get anywhere to tell you it was sheer vindictiveness on the part of Chett Linderson and me."

Ceb mentally raised his eyebrows at that. That was quite a case of vindictiveness, if true. "If you were determined to enter the energy sector, you might have had a dual approach in mind, that was why I asked if you knew of Farolavo Power. I'll repeat my question. Farolavo Power has a large block of funding that can't be traced. Their lawyer refuses to reveal the source. Is it Nemizcan Computing, or a backer of Nemizcan Computing?"

"No." Dreen shook his head, totally appalled. If he thought his previous situation was a nightmare, it was nothing compared to this.

"Gentlemen." Juttar's voice was stern. "Aren't we straining things here, piling hypothesis on hypothesis?"

"Not hypothesis," Trebur said in response to the nod from Ceb. "Tranngol Cebron and Azlo Mirelle have found the evidence Dr. Pendi said to look for."

"Did they?" There was excitement mixed with wonder in Dreen's face. "Then Vennbir really was right." He shook his head. "I've had plenty of time to think and think, and I was starting to decide the kid was nuts."

Ceb and Trebur exchanged puzzled looks.

"What you mean by that Dr. Pendi?" Ceb asked.

"The young man who had the idea of how to hack things. I haven't worked with him enough to know how his mind works, not that experience with him would necessarily help. It doesn't with Brys. But all I got from my staff was the bottom line essentially, what they had looked for. I intended to go over it with them later in the day when they were available –"

"Dreen, you're confusing them again."

"Oh. Sorry. I got the call midday from Gali. Dr. Gali Nellar, a senior staff member. But the actual work was done by two young hackers on staff, Vennbir Kaladay and Brys Toleman, and they work night shift by preference and had gone to get some sleep. So I was going to match my time to theirs since Brys is a bit incoherent when she's sleepy. But then I was arrested, and Juttar here told me to sit on my hands and watch soccer, which was reasonable advice, so I have been. But I've been thinking too, and for the life of me I don't know where Vennbir is coming from. Not," he added resignedly, "that I expect you to believe a word of that either."

Actually that totally unguarded flow of comment had done quite a bit in his favor, but Dreen didn't realize it. He was staring moodily into space. "Let me think."

"Take your time," Ceb said agreeably, wondering what was coming next. This day was turning into an interesting study in personalities.

At last Dreen said, "Look, if you distrust me you must have equal reservations about Chett Linderson, since he was here, and he's been the mastermind of the Dellmaice Power takeover. I can tell you right now that he's no hacker, for that matter he's no great computer analyst, although he's improving. He wanted a technical management role on Drezvir, so I gave it to him. But I had Jann Denari ghost every decision and piece of work he did to make sure it was right. Jann's one of my top analysts and has been since we started. But I realize the fact Chett couldn't have done it himself won't count since he has access to our staff.

"So, what I suggest is I call him up. Ask him the same questions you have me, and any others you have. Then I suggest we call Brys and Vennbir and have them go over what they've done. Bring in Sam Ieono, and Tranngol and Azlo for that matter and you can all watch and decide if we're playing games."

Trebur looked at Ceb.

Ceb nodded. It was a delay, simply because it was more cooperation than he'd counted on, but it would be interesting. "That's reasonable Dr. Pendi. Any objections Mr. Kommur?"

"None at all."

*****

Chapter 44

"Chett." Dreen tried to keep his voice and face neutral. "We're having some discussions with the Farr Sector and Interplanetary Judiciaries and you can help out." He wasn't sure what else he could say.

"Sure," Chett said feeling his way. "What can I do?"

"Perhaps you could answer some questions for me, Mr. Linderson. And by the way, I'm Ceb Windegren, and I should tell you all this is being recorded. I assume Juttar Kommur is your counsel as well as Dr. Pendi's?"

Uh huh. Those kind of discussions. Chett put part of his mind to work on what was wrong now, while deciding what to do about the fact Juttar most definitely was not his counsel. They had agreed to dislike each other, help Dreen, and get through this. That was it.

"That's correct," Juttar said firmly, making eye contact with Chett. More players were not needed in this discussion.

"Very good," Ceb said. "Now, Mr. Linderson, have you heard of Farolavo Power?"

"Yes. I wouldn't have heard of them except that with the takeover of Dellmaice Power I've really been watching the energy sector. They have inadvertently been very helpful – doing a real negative PR number on Dellmaice Power." By the look on Dreen's face that was the wrong answer, but why?

"You know who they are?"

"No. It's impossible to find out about them."

"Not quite impossible. The principals are Olan Rostin, Dr. Durstin Fallor, and Dr. Mark Laratte," Ceb said.

Dreen saw Chett's eyes widen. Then Chett sat back in his chair, staring off into space.

"I see," Chett said at last, then to Dreen, "and I never once smelled a rat in that particular direction. I'm losing my touch. Who, by the way is Dr. Mark Laratte?"

"A former manager at Dellmaice Power," Ceb provided.

"Mitra's former fiancé," Dreen added.

"The son-of-a-bitch?" Chett asked.

"You've got it," Dreen confirmed.

"No doubt this is a digression, but how is she taking this?"

"Initially furious, then resigned."

Chett nodded. "So far, so good, or bad, whatever. But how can I help?"

"There is a large block of unaccounted for funding at Farolavo Power," Ceb said.

"And you want me to have a shot at finding out who's it is? I'll admit I'm good, that's one reason why Hoffner uses me, but I'd have thought you were better at the Judiciary." Then Chett grinned, pure mischief. "Then again, maybe you aren't. I found a couple companies at Dellmaice Power that were fronts for Ghen Kulgalu that I assume you would have squashed if you knew about. He wasn't much pleased with me."

"Have you passed this on."

"No, but I will if you give me a name. It's not the sort of thing one wants to give to the wrong person. But if you can slow Kulgalu down, great. It's not my idea of the best corporate situation having him all over the place at Dellmaice Power."

"And he is?" This interested Ceb.

"When you add up all the companies he's invested through, he's number three. To be fair though I understand he doesn't interfere at all."

They were definitely getting off track. Dreen said, "I think they're looking for an easier answer, Chett. Like we knew perfectly well who Farolavo Power is, we're the money. That we've been planning for some time to get into the energy sector. So we engineered the accident to discredit Dellmaice Power and take it over, presumably to merge the two companies somewhere down the road. You see, Vennbir was right – there's evidence of the hack now, and who's better qualified than us to hack our own system?"

"So we're prime rat candidate," Chett agreed, not pleased by the turn of events but not especially surprised either. It was a road he'd seen possibly coming, although not in this exact form. "Well," he said briskly, "if it were true it would have saved you a lot of that agonizing you've been doing about taking a false fall using computer quantum effects. All you'd have had to do was confess how you planned the accident and no one would be trying to pin a design mistake on Mitra."

And that should at least eliminate the danger of Dreen trying exactly that sort of stunt using Vennbir's evidence instead, Chett thought. It got him a cold look from Juttar and and even icier one from Dreen.

"Now," Chett continued in his softest voice, stretching his legs, "let's get off fantasy. Are we the rat? The question on Farolavo Power is easy, and you're tired Dreen or you would have seen it. Gentlemen, please audit us. Our accounting practices are extremely straightforward and transparent. They were good when I got here and I've tightened them up a lot. You have to be that way when you're as far-flung as we are. It's damned hard for a manager to even buy a boat or keep a mistress at our expense, although it's been tried now and again. So there is no way we could hide a significant investment."

"Thank you." Ceb looked at Dreen. "With your permission I'll arrange that."

Dreen managed a tired smile. "Not with my permission. Chett's in charge. But it's a good idea, one I should have thought of."

Chett was pursuing his own line of thought. "Actually, I like the idea. We haven't had a good tax audit for a while. It should be really interesting to see who gets nervous about one by the Interplanetary Judiciary."

That did get a rise out of Dreen. "Chett!"

"Dreen is one of those naïve sorts who thinks everyone in the galaxy is honest like him," Chett explained, "and to give his hiring credit we do well. Me, I've knocked around enough to be suspicious." He continued softly, "The question though is how do we demonstrate we didn't do exactly the same thing without Farolavo Power in the loop, engineer the accident to get Dellmaice Power."

"You're tired Chett," Dreen threw Chett's earlier tone of voice back at him, "or you would have seen at least a partial solution. We wake up Brys and Vennbir, and get Gali all holoconferencing with us and go over the hacking. Whoever these gentlemen want can watch us and record whatever they want however they want and analyze it however they want. I don't know about you, but I don't know how the hell Vennbir got where he went, and I'm happy to sort it out in public."

***

Dreen was in one of his cranky, inflexible moods. The audience had been long forgotten. He was focused on Vennbir and he couldn't understand him. His arms were crossed on his chest, and he was frowning.

"That," Dreen said firmly, "doesn't make sense, Vennbir."

"But it works," Vennbir protested.

"I don't give a damn if it works, I want to know why you did it!"

"I – I don't know." Vennbir couldn't explain. He'd just known what to do.

"Are you expecting me to believe some other hacker just lucked out too, or intuited this design?"

While Dreen might have forgotten his audience, Vennbir hadn't. He flushed.

"Back off Dreen," Chett said in his soft dangerous tone.

"Are you telling me you understand that?" Dreen's tone was acid.

"Hell no. My brain quit ten minutes ago. But I don't see where badgering Vennbir will help him explain himself."

Gali startled them all, speaking quietly. "Let me give it a try Dreen. You, or Vennbir, correct me when I get off track." He backed up to the start of the current section and started through line by line, giving the reasons just like he would at a design review meeting. For a few minutes Dreen's face cleared, then it started to cloud over, about the same time that Gali stopped, frowning. "I'm sorry Vennbir, I have to back Dreen. This next move simply doesn't fall out of that line of logic. I know they say the evidence you've predicted is there, but I can't get there either."

Vennbir gave Brys an appealing look. He'd done his best, but all he'd done was get Dreen really upset, something he didn't want to do.

Brys sighed. So far she hadn't opened her mouth. That had seemed the best way to stay invisible to these legal people and she really wanted to stay invisible. Besides hating the situation and fearing any sort of authority, she was in the transparent hostess gown Bojo had given her. But it was obviously time to jump in. Dreen looked a couple minutes at most from exploding, not that that bothered Brys at all. But it might these authorities.

"All the same, Vennbir's right," she said firmly.

"And Gali and I are just stupid?" Dreen demanded.

Brys gave him a flippant smile. "You said it, I didn't." That got her a long glare she didn't take seriously. "Actually, I think it might be the fact that it's a long time since you and Gali seriously hacked. There's a couple common structures going around – tricks if you want – that shorten an otherwise really long bunch of code. After all," her smile was back, "long is dumb, right?"

"Do you think you could possibly give us old guys the longhand version of that one unit of Vennbir's?"

"Sure."

***

There was no doubt in Ceb's mind that everything he'd seen was open and above board. The young man had shown up in pajamas and half asleep. He hadn't got far explaining himself, but that wasn't for want of trying. He just wasn't the kind who was good with words. The young lady had shown up in quite the gown over a peeling sunburn. It was slightly more than a negligée, but not much. Ceb had thought she had less to say for herself than the young man. Then she got going and she was very articulate – and feisty. As for Dreen Pendi, he had obviously gotten totally lost in the subject he loved, and all the material was new to him. Chett Linderson? Out of his depth, but trying. And as for the quiet man, Gali, his role seem to be to ride herd on the younger two.

Still, Ceb wanted the opinion of the experts. He turned to Sam Ieono. "Did you follow that?"

Sam hesitated, biting his lip. "About seventy five percent of what Brys said. I think I'm going to have to go meditate for a few hours, then spend the rest of the night talking to her and Vennbir." He turned his attention to Brys and Vennbir. "Did you know you two major in cheap and dirty tricks?"

"We're hackers," Brys said cheerfully. "What do you expect?" Once she'd got going, she'd been enjoying herself.

"Any gut feeling this was something worked out months ago and used by Nemizcan?" Ceb asked Sam.

Sam shook his head. "None." It was all too spontaneous. The older staff members were as lost as he was, and Brys and Vennbir were simply very pleased with their collective cleverness.

Ceb continued around the circle of experts, getting agreement. This wasn't a cover up.

Tranngol was still offended though that Dreen was being implicated in sabotage. "They've all been fully cooperative and open, like they've been from the start of the investigation." He gave Auta, the source of this nonsense, a disgusted look.

*****

Chapter 45

Bojo was more disturbed than he liked to be. He was worried about Witieral, about Dreen, about getting Joran into trouble, about all the people who had trusted him on Ennup 10. Not a single one of the relaxation techniques he had learned after his accident, and re-learned when Joran got into drugs, was helping. What he really needed was a consoling friend, but he knew he was pretty much out of luck. Joran's mood was even edgier than his and he was off in the atrium playing his keyboard. Brys was in some incredibly long conference call with the Interplanetary Judiciary. He had no idea why. But that meant that when it was over she would be the one needing comforting.

So barring being comforted by a friend, what would help? Some really good news. In that connection, an idea had been slowly forming in his mind. He'd give Kit a call and tell him he'd found Jeena. First though it might be prudent to call Jeena and see if she wanted to be found. She had certainly gone out of her way to get lost. Bojo didn't think that it would get either of them in trouble with the Judiciaries if he kept it social. So before he could change his mind, he placed the call.

"Jeena! Long time no see." She had gained a bit of weight, Bojo decided and it became her. So did her current casual hairstyle. Jeena had tried too hard towards the end with Kit for a glamor she couldn't pull off.

Jeena gave Bojo an unfriendly look. "Trebur Auta has a big mouth."

"Come on, Jeena. If you want to stay lost, you can stay lost. But don't take Kit out on me. We used to be friends."

"Sorry Bojo." Jeena relaxed. Bojo was all right. "I wasn't expecting a call and that was knee-jerk. Can we start over? That was a great performance of yours. I would love to master your albums." She was sincere, and her face softened, eyes misting slightly. It was so brave of Bojo to be trying this solo career.

"If you decide you're tired of life on the periphery, consider the offer accepted. We're going to have too much going on for Timoth to handle."

"Come on, Bojo. You already have another Sound Master. You can't expect me to buy that Timoth did the remastering of those albums."

"Jeena, I'd rather not go down that road. This is a social call."

"No names, hmmm? All right, we won't talk that kind of shop. I'm out of touch anyways. But if you need another Sound Master, who is it in support of? Is Joran finally opening up the AntonCorp label wide, not just to include you as well as him?"

"He wants Johnny Sun, if we can spring him."

Jeena nodded, unenthusiastic. Johnny Sun was excellent, and boring because he was too consistently good. She liked a challenge, a bit of the erratic.

"And a young band at the development stage. They haven't even released an album at the planetary level."

That was more interesting. "They're that good?" They had to be to get to Joran's attention without even an album out.

Bojo smiled. "You cut all your ties to your old label? We don't want them getting counteroffers."

"Shredded them," Jeena said firmly.

"Then take a listen." If anything tempted Jeena to AntonCorp it would be WinSome, not him.

"Only a few bars. I've probably used up a half of my discretionary hyperweb time allowance for the month talking to you this far."

It was more than a few bars, but not much. Just enough to hook Jeena.

"Wow!" Jeena was stunned. "How did you find them?"

"An interfering relative sent us the demo."

Jeena shook her head. "Bless one interfering relative!"

"You tempted?"

"Yes, and no. How the hell do I come back and avoid Kit?"

"Do you have to avoid him, Jeena? He's been scouring the galaxy to find you."

"Sure, Bojo. Your sweet, but you're pushing credibility. He's probably been too busy changing partners to do anything else."

"You're wrong, Jeena. He's in love with you and he's been driving himself crazy trying to find you."

"Bojo, I watched how crazy he was about me with Lynn, Meryl, Angie, the groupies -"

"Okay, so he was a slow learner. But he did get there. For the past eighteen months all he's talked about is you and he's always asking everyone if they've seen you. A lot of the guys are starting to avoid him."

"As long as the gals aren't, he'll survive."

Bojo studied her. "You've changed, Jeena. Kit hurt you, but you used to be classy. So you don't like him. Fine. But after that beautiful apology he wrote you, do you have to keep taking the cheap shots? I thought it would have at least touched your heart, if not melted it."

Jeena stared blankly at Bojo. "Apology?"

"What else would you call 'Jeena's Gone'? It's got to be one of the most poignant lost-love songs of the decade."

Jeena blinked. "I... I wouldn't know Bojo. I haven't listened to so much as a note played by Also Ran since I left." That had been easy. She had deleted every last note and there was no easy way to download something new. They were seen in the Farr Sector as a good example of what was wrong with Outsiders.

"Then listen, Jeena. He really put his heart and all of his pain and love into writing it."

"Bojo," Jeena said firmly, "you used to be one of the really sensible no-nonsense guys in the business. So have you gone romantic, or is Kit running a con even you bought? I'll grant you he has the voice to make anything sound amazing, but he can't write. He might have hired any of a dozen people to write for him and somehow conned them into letting him claim it, but he can't write."

"This time you're wrong. Maybe he just needed the incentive. But it's all his. Lyrics, vocal arrangements, instrumental line -" Bojo held up a hand to forestall the objection that was coming. "And no, he didn't try to play a note. But he personally chose the musicians. I know because I did the keyboard and vocal backup. He handled all the production by doing it in a small time indie studio.

"Then there was one hell of a fight getting his label to put it in his album Wild Night on Tamara because it didn't fit. But he insisted. He wanted it first on the album, with full promotion as the lead single."

"And the studio bought that?" This was starting to sound more and more like a creative fiction, and Jeena was starting to wonder if Kit had put Bojo up to this.

Bojo's voice was dry. "Kit came up with a singularly effective negotiating strategy. He said he wasn't setting foot on stage until he got his way and sue him." Bojo's face was serious. "I honestly don't know what happened between him and the studio, but Kit did a no-show for two back-to-back concerts. At the second one they had to call in the riot police, but the stadium got trashed anyways. You know the kind of crowd Kit attracts."

Jeena nodded, her face concerned. She knew Kit's demographic base only too well.

"And," Bojo concluded, "the only other thing I know is that Kit won. Jeena's Gone is the first song on the album and it got the whole treatment. So why don't you listen to it since he's gone to so much trouble?"

Jeena stared out the window, wondering how much of this was true, not wanting to wonder. "I might ... but what's all this to you, Bojo?"

He took a moment, wanting to be honest. "I suppose I wanted one nice thing to happen today. And since I found out where you were, I thought I'd like to call Kit. But if I can't, I can't. I suppose I am getting romantic on you, Jeena." Bojo gave her a self-conscious smile. "I got myself espoused. That's what all my not being continuously on stage at the concert was about."

"Really?" Jeena's smile was one of genuine delight. "To anyone I know?"

"Only by her work modifying those albums" Bojo said, forgetting they weren't talking about that. "She works for Nemizcan Computing."

"Really? What a waste with an ear like that. Now, let's finish using up my hyperweb allotment for the next couple months. Show me some images of her! And after that I want to hear the whole demo by that group."

*****

Chapter 46

"You've been forever!" Mitra had her arms around Dreen as soon as he was through the door. "What happened?"

He knew she meant what was wrong, so Dreen answered the question she hadn't asked. "It's all fine. Mr. Windegren is just making sure he understands the situation. In my case it was first making sure Nemizcan Computing was not putting money into Farolavo Power. Then he wanted to be sure that I, or my staff here, hadn't hacked the system."

"Dreen!" Mitra was exasperated. "Why do you keep at that? You're upsetting everyone, and they're spending a lot of time chasing nonsense."

"Not nonsense. Tranngol and Azlo have found evidence the system was hacked. The reason the safety system acted like the trips weren't there is that the system got fooled into thinking that the fuel hadn't been changed."

"But how can you do that?" Mitra stared, too stunned to think. There ... there was a cause? She hadn't screwed up? Her eyes asked Dreen that question.

"That's right, love. You or I didn't make a mistake." He gently traced the line of her cheek. "Sometime when you've got a couple days I'll try to explain. Or being realistic I'll have the two hackers on my staff try to explain because I don't totally understand myself. Anyway, this Mark must be very good with computers if he was the one to do it." If it was Mark, not Leeth. "Is he?"

Mitra bit her lip uncertainly. "I don't know. I remember once him saying he had trouble deciding whether or not to go into computing or engineering." She shrugged. "Probably. At Dellmaice Power he was strictly a user."

"So it's possible. Or he could have hired the right people." And Dreen thought, remembering the trouble he had finding Brys, that's not easy. Maybe it was Leeth. "Anyway we can talk more later. Right now Mr. Windegren wants to talk to you."

"Me?!" Mitra's reaction was sheer panic. Her earlier desire to just give up and call it her fault was forgotten. Dreen's having just said it wasn't her fault was lost in that overwhelming wave of fear. So was the fact she had known Ceb all her life. She had been locked up, only house arrest to be sure, and with Dreen, but she had been locked up. And now the authorities wanted to talk to her. "What about?" Her voice cracked on that.

"Mr. Windegren said he wanted to talk to you about the geothermal design. Whether or not Farolavo Power might have stolen it from you." Dreen suspected it was also a case of making sure it wasn't the other way around, that Mitra hadn't been the thief. There was no sense upsetting her on that score though. "So have you got that memory pac, or has your purse eaten it again?"

"It's here, but I told you it doesn't matter. I have a better design."

"Good, now tell Mr. Windegren." Dreen aimed her at the door. When she didn't budge he said, "Mitra, it will be fine and Juttar will be present by holoconference."

The guard who had been waiting patiently added, "You really should come now, Dr. Kael."

***

It was extremely disorienting to think of Ceb as anyone other than C.C.'s dad and Beti's husband even though he did look rather intimidating sitting behind Trebur Auta's desk. Mitra wasn't sure why he was looking intimidating, since he was wearing exactly the sort of subdued business suit he always did, and he had the same quiet expression he always did. Perhaps it was because she kept thinking that he held her and Dreen's fate in his hands. But anyway, it was disorienting. After a couple of awkward tries when she said Ceb then corrected herself to Mr. Windegren, then less than a minute later had to correct herself again, Mitra gave up. Ceb was Ceb, and she contented herself with trying very hard to not call him Uncle Ceb.

"Mitra," Ceb saw no sense calling someone he had diapered Dr. Kael, "how did you get into the geothermal side of design? You've always worked on the auxiliary power units before, not the geothermal base." Ceb figured that if anything gave him a feel for whether or not it was her design, asking her how she got her design idea would tell him. People had the strangest sources of inspiration. Later of course, when he had been located, he would ask the same thing of Mark Laratte. If medically possible, he would ask Durstin Fallor. But Mitra was the one available now, and so far all that he had decided was she was somewhere between nervous and scared stiff. He wondered what, if anything, Dreen had told her about the hacking.

Mitra looked at Ceb with relief. He had asked something easy. "It was the day we were positioning the fourth geothermal source. The first three had gone well, and everyone was starting to take it as routine. The novelty had worn off for me too." Then because Ceb looked confused, "You see I'd never really been involved in a geothermal seating before, only watched it as part of my training at Dellmaice Power. Of course our experts were on Drezvir, but it was my project so I really focused. The first two installations fascinated me. I think I was a nuisance crawling all over the place looking. By the third installation, I knew what should happen. By the fourth it was just hot sticky sweaty work and I wished it would go faster."

Mitra paused for breath, and Ceb fully expected her to say that impatience was the driving force.

"Then we had what the seismologists here call a little seismic event." Mitra couldn't suppress a shudder. She managed a weak smile. "If an earthquake just rattles dishes rather than rearranges the ground by a few meters, they don't get very excited here. But it was enough of a crust shift to jam the unit about halfway down. We got out of there fast, and we all kind of waited at ground level by the elevator to see if life was going to get really exciting. But after about twenty minutes when nothing more had happened and the seismologists said it looked like that was it for the time being, we went back down and tried to get the unit unstuck. No luck, up or down. It was going to stay where it was.

"So Andy, he's this real muscular guy on the crew, looks at Ken Kwan, the Section Head, and says, 'Why does machinery only work when everything is right? You want me to see if I can cut the unit loose?' and Ken Kwan nods. But as soon as Andy gets behind the robotics that are holding the geothermal unit, it's obvious it's too tight a fit for him to move. Then JoJo laughs and says, 'Why when they need muscle, is it always the little guy's muscle?' He's a real wiry little guy with a monkey face." Mitra stopped and swallowed hard, thinking of them now in the hospital ward, and thinking of the other crew members that didn't make it. She forced herself to continue. "So JoJo was having a shot at things, and all of us from Dellmaice Power were standing there feeling useless and learning a good miner's vocabulary. JoJo got the cut partly done, then he's trying to crowd into a space too cramped for him.

"So I said how about I try. And the miners objected that I had no idea how to cut, much less how to do the fine adjustments needed. And I said 'So show me. Can I make it any more stuck than it is?' Blayne saw the logic in that and he and Ken talked it over." This time she couldn't hold back the tears. "I'm sorry." Mitra dabbed at the tears with the back of her hand. "But Blayne -" She couldn't finish."

"Blayne was one of the miners who died. His wife is a good friend of Mitra's," Trebur said quietly.

Ceb nodded. "Take the time you need, Mitra."

"It's all right." She took a couple steadying breaths. "Blayne gave me cutting lessons for the rest of the afternoon while everyone else worked on Unit 5. Eventually he declared me as competent as I would get, and everyone quit working to come and watch and laugh. Now, ever since the unit had got stuck, I'd been wondering how common that was and if it was possible to have the shape and mass distribution different so there was more room for a miner to get around the robotics moving it. And then when I started trying to cut a little space around it, I realized how much the geothermal units are optimized for geothermal efficiency, not to make the miners life easy, and I started thinking about that too."

Mitra decided she was nervous and talking too much, and probably boring everyone. "Anyways, the damn thing is still stuck but I came up with this." She reached into her tote where the memory pac was still miraculously on top and handed it to Ceb. "You can keep it, because it's not really of much use. While I was on Gingezel I realized that while it's an improvement, it could be a lot better. I've got an even easier shape, or at least I think so. I still have to talk to some solid-state heat transfer experts and then some miners."

*****

Chapter 47

C.C. was furious as he approached the door to Trebur Auta's office. When a guard, an unnerving armed guard, had to come to escort him to see his father, C.C. had assumed Dreen had been low enough to say he suspected him and Leeth of causing the accident. His anger over that had driven any wondering he might have had about what his father was doing here out of his head. On the walk through the connecting snake, his mind had kept replaying the scene with Leeth in the chicken coop, when Leeth had said Dreen would try to pin the accident on them. How the hell could they disprove it? Leeth was a known hacker. Hell, what was Leeth doing every night in his room anyways? C.C. felt a wave of intense fear chill him, only to be replaced by another of fury.

"It isn't right you know!" he said as he stormed in the door. "Leeth and I didn't have anything to do with the accident, and Dreen Pendi has no right to say we did! He's just trying to blame someone else, to watch us squirm, just like he did to Leeth at his trial. I -"

"Are you quite finished?" Ceb cut across his son's flow of words. "Because if you aren't, you should be. You have apparently prejudged the situation as always, and with your usual inaccuracy." He gave his son an icy glare that he hoped would silence him before he said something for the record that he should not. To his relief C.C. subsided.

"Now please listen carefully. This is a formal judicial hearing. I am present representing the Interplanetary Judiciary. Dr. Auta is the representative of the Farr Sector Judiciary. Both positions are due respect. Respect that to date you have not shown.

"Now, C.C., I wish to inform you of your rights. As this is a formal hearing everything you say is being recorded both by the Farr Sector Judiciary and the Interplanetary Judiciary. No charges are being laid at this time, but the questions we have to ask you could result in such charges. As such, you are free to have your lawyer present by holoconference, and in fact you are advised to do so."

Lawyer? Possible charges? C.C. stared at this stranger who was his father. The stranger stared back impassively. At last C.C. found his voice. "I would like to arrange to have my lawyer present."

"Very good." Ceb inclined his head towards Trebur. "Dr. Auta, would you arrange the holoconference."

His lawyer, John Cleary was suddenly another stranger. John, whose idea of a meeting was to take him for a drink and ask about whatever exotic planet he had been on last, and laugh at the stories. Suddenly his round face was completely without its usual humorous acceptance of the foibles of life. Even his close-cropped blond hair, something practical for an amateur jock, suddenly looked deliberately severe. C.C. tried to smile at him. It was not returned.

"Now, the first thing to do, C.C., is to make it completely clear that Dr. Dreen Pendi has not said one thing against you or Leeth Kembel. In fact, he has gone out of his way to be fair, perhaps to the extent of risking prejudicing his own position. What he did say was that it was a big step from talk to action." Ceb steepled his hands. "We will have a talk, C.C., about just how big a step that is for you."

C.C. winced at the posture and the tone, but kept his mouth shut. His father was obviously not finished.

"But first we will finish dealing with the Dr. Pendi. I have investigated his and Leeth Kembel's account of Mr. Kembel's trial." Ceb turned to Trebur. "I don't know how thorough your background is on Dr. Pendi. He and Mr. Kembel have crossed paths before when Mr. Kembel hacked into the military installation Dr. Pendi was working at."

C.C. interrupted. "Wait a minute. If we are talking about Leeth I want him here." He appealed to John. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

"I believe my client's request is reasonable."

With obvious reluctance Ceb said, "Dr. Auta, perhaps one of your guards would get Mr. Kembel."

The time while the guards walked to the terraformers habitat and brought Leeth back was an eternity to C.C. Neither his father nor Trebur Auta said a thing. They just watched him like a specimen and he could suddenly relate at an emotional not intellectual level with the Pikkant having faked a passive to the point of being judged stupid response during their sentience testing. But at last Leeth came.

"Mr. Kembel. Please take a seat." Ceb indicated the chair beside C.C. "As I have told C.C., this is a formal inquiry and the results of it could lead to charges being pressed. Does Mr. Cleary represent you, or do you have separate counsel you wish to have present?"

Leeth gave the C.C. an agonized look.

C.C. answered for him. "John represents both of us." This would be news to John, but he couldn't leave Leeth to cope without a lawyer.

"Very well." Ceb inclined his head. "Mr. Kembel, I don't know if you are aware of the fact, but C.C. asked me to de-archive the records of your trial and to clarify certain discrepancies between your story and Dr. Pendi's. I will not review the whole trial unless Dr. Auta prefers. Dr. Auta?"

"No, please proceed." Please, please! Get this over with.

"Very well. On the first point, that Dr. Pendi deliberately gave evidence to cause you to have a less lenient sentence than you might have had, records show that he was considered an extremely hostile witness by the prosecution, and as such they requested and were granted the request that he be attached to lie detection equipment while on the stand.

"On the second point as to who funded your legal defense, the legal records only indicate that the public defender was replaced by a private lawyer from the firm of Steed, Winston, and Smythe, experts in computer crime. I had to contact them and request they tell me who retained them. Obviously they were under no obligation to do so, but they said that given that the trial was so many years ago and their client was deceased, they felt they could do so. Your lawyer was retained by Oren Pendi, Dreen Pendi's father."

"Dreen's father?" Leeth stared. Then he put a hand over his ashen face. "Galaxy! What a fool I've been."

"In exactly what way, Mr. Kembel? By hacking the reactor safety and control system here as revenge?"

"No! No! I don't even know how it works!"

"Do you mind if we verify that?" Trebur asked. "I'd like you to talk to Tranngol Cebron, Sam Ieono, and Jennifer Harken.

Again, C.C. sat through an interminable wait of perhaps seven minutes. Then there was a totally fascinating technical session C.C. did not follow at all. Apparently the system had been hacked, something to do with some time or timing algorithm. It started with questions to Leeth he had no idea what they implied. Then suddenly Leeth was intrigued to the point he forgot where he was and started responding with questions of his own. He ended up trying to figure out how the hack could have been done. He had a singular lack of success, and his efforts must have been seen as sincere, because eventually Sam Ieono said he didn't think Leeth had done it.

"Very well. My thanks to all of you for your assistance." Ceb indicated that the analysts could go with a brief nod towards the door. "And I believe you can go now as well, Mr. Kembel. There is no need to ask you to remain accessible. There is nowhere to go on Drezvir."

Somehow, C.C. did not find that comment reassuring.

"Thank you sir." Leeth rose. Then standing formally correct, he asked, "Might I have permission to go see Dr. Pendi? I have some serious apologies to make."

Ceb hesitated, then slowly inclined his head. "Very well. But Dr. Auta, would you make it clear to the guard that escorts Mr. Kembel that he is not to let him alone with Dr. Pendi.

*****

Chapter 48

Sergeant Giobi himself opened the door to Dreen's room. "There's a terraformer to see you, sir. We've searched and scanned him, he's unarmed. But since he isn't family that arrived with the Interplanetary Judiciary representative, like this gentleman," he nodded politely at Niki, "I'll have to accompany him. Shall I let him in?"

"Of course," Mitra answered for Dreen. "He's almost family." Ceb and C.C. must have finished talking. When she left Ceb, he'd thanked her rather formally for cooperating, then he'd said grimly, "And now that son and I are going to have a little talk that's been coming for a few years."

That had really been bothering Mitra. Ceb couldn't possibly think C.C. was somehow involved in the accident could he? Dreen had implied when she got back that C.C.'s possible involvement was exactly what Ceb had to find out about since C.C. had the motive, the expertise, and the personnel on staff. But it was crazy. C.C. might sound off a lot, but he would never hurt anyone. But if C.C. was here to visit, it must all be sorted out. Mitra smiled in relief.

Sergeant Giobi looked at Dreen.

He confirmed Mitra's statement with a nod and a singular lack of enthusiasm. Although he acknowledged C.C. was likable, the way C.C. kept coming on to Mitra it was going to take him some time to get along with C.C., much less consider him family. He told himself philosophically it took Gali five years to be able to stand Joran after Joran's making a pass at Keya. However it wasn't C.C. who came through the door. It was Leeth Kembel.

"Oh, Leeth." Mitra couldn't mask her disappointment.

Leeth stopped just inside the doorway looking awkward. Another guard was behind him in the doorway, making it impossible to close the door. "I'm sorry to intrude at a time like this, and with family visiting," his eyes moved to Niki, "but C.C. asked me to come say he'll be about another half hour. He's still talking to his father."

"Oh, that's fine." Mitra was recovering now and was determined to make amends by being polite. But she was worried again if C.C. was still with Ceb. "Come in so the guard can shut the door. Leeth, this is my brother Niki. Niki, Leeth Kembel from C.C.'s team."

"I don't expect you remember," Leeth said to Niki, "but we met once at your mother's house."

"I remember." Niki made a face. "It was one of those hideous dinner parties Roween gives now and again where she invites the wrong mix of people, then wonders why no one is having a good time." The only reason Roween had conned him into that one was it gave him a chance to get a close look at C.C.'s criminal friend, so of course he remembered Leeth. "You were smart, staying out in the kitchen talking to the parrots. I had to do my duties as host since Chelan was away."

"How are they – Meg and Basil I mean." Leeth did not find it inappropriate asking about the parrots, not the Kaels.

"Fine," Niki said cheerfully. "They're at the kiss and makeup stage. Basil got stupid a while back and tried to fly into a simulation and beaned himself on the wall. Meg gave him the cold shoulder for quite some time, but all is well now." He amended, "Or as well as it will ever be with a dummy like Basil."

Leeth transferred his attention to Dreen. "I was hoping I could have a private word with you." He didn't know what to call Dreen, so he left it at that. He looked uncomfortably around the single room. Where in his quarters there were doors to the study and the bedroom, here there was a solid wall with one closet. It looked like the only other room was the lavatory.

Dreen followed the look. "That's our choice. I'm sorry, but if you really want to talk, that's it. I don't know what happens when I leave here." Dreen had no idea what Leeth Kembel could want to say to him and he couldn't ask Mitra and Niki to go wait in the lavatory. Dreen assumed, no he hoped, things were fine, that the interviews had gone well, and that things would return to normal. They would get back to finishing off the accident analysis, or if Azlo considered the evidence of the hackers conclusive, maybe even leave. Niki implied that was possible. But he wasn't counting on anything until it happened. It wasn't inconceivable that there would be some weird twist and they would stay arrested.

"If you don't mind then." Having nerved himself up this far, Leeth wasn't going to stop at some additional embarrassment.

Dreen shrugged and walked in and down the two pace length of the lavatory then turned back to face Leeth. Leeth followed and Sergeant Giobi crowded in behind him, blocking the doorway. It was going to be very cramped. Dreen leaned back on the shower door and folded his arms on his chest, brushing Leeth in the process.

"Sergeant, is this really necessary? Couldn't you just hover a few steps outside the door or something?"

"Sorry Dr. Pendi, but my orders are to protect you and I couldn't do that there."

Dreen shrugged. He thought the interpretation of those orders was being overdone, but he had learned not to argue with military types. "Suit yourself." He transferred his attention to Leeth. "I don't know about you, but to me it feels too much like visiting hour with him standing there." Then back over Leeth's shoulder for the sergeant's benefit, "We both did time in our youth for hacking." That was received indifferently by Sergeant Giobi, but Leeth stared.

"You did time? There's no record of it."

"No. The record is suppressed. I did two months while there was a P2 psychiatric and psychological assessment prior to my three-year non-voluntary military stint."

"Oh." Leeth frowned. "That's another thing I got wrong. You see," he made himself look directly at Dreen a few hand spans from his face, "that's why I'm here, to apologize. All these years I thought you were just some conceited rich brat who believed there were two sets of rules, one if you had money, one if you didn't, and you set me up. I just found out from C.C.'s father – C.C. had him check some records – that you were the one who paid for that fancy lawyer I had. Mitra told me that's what you said – but – I'm sorry – but I've spent so many years hating you I couldn't believe it until the Judiciary confirmed it."

"Don't worry about it." At the moment Dreen was feeling magnanimous. He'd been expecting more trouble of some sort, not an apology.

"But I am." Leeth was more than worried. He was feeling terrible. "The only thing I can say for myself is I was just a stupid kid. This new lawyer walked in the door and I assumed he was the same as the first." He shrugged. "I didn't know anything about law back then."

"Me either!" Dreen said. "I wanted you to get the same break I did and tried to sell it to the military base. I used the line they might get permanent staff. When that got a hostile reaction, I thought of a better lawyer for you. And believe me Leeth if I'd known what that lawyer stunt would cost me, I'd have felt sorry for you but you'd have been on your own."

Leeth frowned. "What do you mean? Are – oh hell – are you trying to say I caused you serious money problems?"

"No. You did not cause me serious money problems. I caused myself serious money problems. I was as dumb a kid as you, and I was so used to corporate lawyers around I took them as an everyday sort of thing a person could afford. I had some money from my grandmother. I figured helping you out would use some of it, but I'd feel better." Dreen gave a wry smile. "When I got out of the military my dad gave me the bill. It was three times my inheritance."

"What did you do?" Leeth wasn't feeling bad now, he was horrified.

"Spent a lot of years in a worse dump than this," he waved a hand, "while I paid him off."

"You could have told me."

"Why? You didn't ask for help, and it sure didn't do much good, did it?" The conversation was getting too serious. "Forget it, Leeth."

Leeth was shaking his head. "And all the time I thought of you as this corporate big shot having a great time."

"So, keep that image if it's easier." Dreen thought of Gingezel, of his vacation with Mitra. "I've had my moments."

"I can't. I'm ashamed of myself. Here – why didn't you say to the authorities I caused things? I know you thought so. You made that plain enough. But C.C.' s dad said that you flatly refused to point a finger when he talked to you." Leeth had to know.

"I won't deny that I suspected you. And I won't deny I didn't think about going to Auta with my suspicion. It gave me better odds of getting off and I did not want to face a prison again. But suspicions aren't proof, are they? And let's be realistic. With the jurisprudence here even with considerable resources behind me, I'm in serious trouble. What kind of a chance would you have with no resources? When it came down to it, I simply couldn't set you up again." Dreen was really uncomfortable now. "So if anyone should apologize, it's me for thinking you could have engineered the accident." He was assuming that whatever C.C. and his dad were talking about, it was not Leeth Kembel's guilt. If there was the slightest question of it, Leeth would be detained like he and Mitra and Rostin were. So why wouldn't Leeth let be and leave?

Leeth couldn't let be. Not with Dreen's face about three hand spans from his. He'd felt bad enough coming here, and now from what Dreen said, he felt immeasurably worse. Instinctively he stepped back, onto the sergeant's foot. "Sorry." He stepped forward again. Sergeant Giobi winced but didn't move a millimeter.

"Why don't we just let it be Leeth? It's getting cramped in here. Sergeant –"

"No, wait –" If he didn't get it out he never would. Leeth started talking desperately to what looked like an apricot nail polish stain on the wall but couldn't be because the miners did not use cosmetics. "You see, after finding out how good you've been to me, I feel like dirt. All my life I've wanted to get even, and when I found out you –" He broke off.

That was exactly the logic Dreen had used to mentally condemn Leeth for the accident. But now, looking at the haggard face, his mind made a different jump. "When you found out I had the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb contract?" he prompted softly. Leeth didn't need to answer. He looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock. Dreen started to smile. Talk about irony.

"You're our hacker." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Leeth just waited. Waited to hear how cheap a stunt that had been to pull on someone who had gone out of his way to help him. Waited to hear that if he thought he'd been in trouble for hacking a military site, just see what kind of trouble the rich guys at Gingezel could make. It didn't happen. Reluctantly he looked at Dreen. If his mind could have accepted it, he would have said Dreen was beaming.

"Do you have any idea how much you've helped us debug that system?" Dreen asked. "We thought about posting a thank you somewhere in the code, but we were afraid whoever it was would quit then. I won't pretend you haven't driven us crazy too, but mostly you've helped since until the last two times you've been fairly nondestructive. I assume the real number you did the second last hack was because I threatened you in the cafeteria?"

Leeth stared. "I don't know what you're talking about. You really scared me. I haven't touched the system since then."

Dreen studied the worn face. He believed Leeth. "Then, I think we have another hacker, and one with no scruples," he said slowly. "So thanks for the help so far – it will help us deal with whomever."

Leeth hadn't thought of it that way at all. He rubbed an embarrassed hand over his face.

Then Dreen saw the first hint of a smile he'd ever seen there.

"I suppose I have been useful."

"Uh huh. Systematically working through every feature we have with a fresh set of eyes."

There was a sudden flash of a smile that startled Dreen.

"Should I submit a bill?"

"Sure." Dreen found he was smiling back. "Or would you rather have a job?"

That wiped the smile back off Leeth's face. "You would do that?"

"Conditional to your passing a P3 like the whole Gingezel team, yes. You're damned good."

"Aren't you afraid I'll just sabotage the system but good?"

Dreen shook his head firmly. "No. You're good enough that if that was what you wanted you would have done that a long time ago. You just wanted to show the team – me," he corrected, "that you're better than I am."

Leeth nodded. "When it came down to it, I couldn't totally destroy it. I thought of maybe half a dozen ways, but I couldn't. Not all that work." He hesitated then added, "Really good work."

"Then come work for us – we need to know those half a dozen ways."

But Leeth was shaking his head. "I can't leave C.C. stranded mid-project. I owe him, and laborers are hard for terraformers to get."

"So, does he care if you use your brain too? If we can qualify you, you could work from here." Dreen grinned suddenly. "And if we can't, I suppose you can still hack."

*****

Chapter 49

C.C. slumped into the chair at his desk and buried his head in his hands. It was a nightmare. Ceb had always been able to tell when he was lying or holding something back and Ceb had sensed that he wasn't being open about something. He had tried to trap him from different angles, over and over again. Asking about this aspect of his being an environmental activist. Asking about a different aspect.

But how could he say 'Look, back off! I'm not doing anything on Drezvir except terraforming it. It's just that I can't keep from imagining how much worse than this it would be for me if you found out that I've been suppressing knowledge of a sentient species on Gingezel from the Interplanetary Judiciary.' That would make a little industrial sabotage look as innocent as a kindergarten picnic. Hell, it violated the most basic rule of interplanetary exploration.

Then too, C.C. had been trying to not think about Leeth. He believed that Leeth had not hacked the reactor. But he was also very sure the apology Leeth had to make was not only for unkind thoughts. Leeth had been scared when Dreen accused him in the cafeteria and C.C. knew now it wasn't only of the current situation. Sitting there with Ceb, Trebur Auta, and John Cleary watching him C.C. had suddenly been sure that Leeth had been hacking the Gingezel UltraSecure HyperWeb.

A noise at the door brought him out of his misery. Leeth. He straightened and turned.

"Are you all right, C.C.?" His boss looked terrible.

C.C. ignored him. "Are you in trouble?"

Leeth stepped in, shutting the door.

C.C. repeated his question sharply. "I said, are you in trouble?"

"No. I'd probably feel less lousy if I was. But Pendi was decent about everything." He leaned against the door. "I told Pendi I truly didn't know he tried to help me. He even tried to make that easier by shrugging it off." Leeth was tracing patterns in the carpet with his toe. "Apparently he had an inheritance from a grandparent. It cost him that and a lot more, and his dad made him pay back every credit. He made a joke of that too. He said that if he had known how much it would cost, he probably would have not helped and just felt bad."

"And now you feel guilty," C.C. observed. "Was it easier being bitter?"

Leeth nodded.

"And at that point did you stop talking, or did you tell him about the hacking?" C.C. was watching Leeth hard as he made to this guess.

Leeth didn't even bother to look up from the carpet. He did idly wonder exactly when C.C. had put two and two together, but whenever he did, he had added it up right.

"I told him."

"And?" This was getting to be uphill.

Leeth looked up with a brief smile. "He said I was doing a first-class job of debugging for them, and to keep it up."

"You're damned lucky!" C.C. said. "I was laying odds your compulsion to confess would get you back in prison. For that matter, you're probably lucky you tried that confession on Dreen not Joran. Joran is pretty touchy about Gingezel and he sets a lot of the rules. Somehow I don't think he'd find your going after his system amusing."

"Maybe. You're the one who knows him."

"You don't agree? Why?"

"The Anton Band site. It's a hacker's paradise. Joran has spent a small fortune turning it into one of the best games on the hyperweb, and it changes weekly."

"Really?" C.C. was almost diverted, but he would get back to that. Right now Leeth was hiding something. He'd swear to it. "Tell me about it after you tell me the part you're trying to not tell me."

Leeth could feel the sweat on his back, but he couldn't get the words out.

"Leeth!" C.C. was getting exasperated. "You aren't en route to prison, so what's the catch?"

Leeth spoke to a far corner of the room. "He's offered me a job. Gingezel if I can clear security which I doubt with my prison record. But a job anyways."

"And you took it of course." C.C. would hate to lose Leeth, but computing was his love in life. I'll miss you, but -"

"No. I didn't take it."

C.C. stared. "Are you crazy? You like mucking fish tanks and chicken coops?"

Leeth smiled at that. "Sure. It's a real high point. But seriously C.C., I need time to think and..." He hesitated. It was stupid being embarrassed. "And you made me part of the team here. I've never been that before."

C.C. nodded slowly. "So take your time. But be realistic Leeth. You know I'm easing you into simulations, but to give you full credit for them and for you to have credibility as more than a low-grade assistant, you would have to go to university and get an advanced degree. A couple more years and you'll have the experience where that wouldn't be hard. But you aren't young anymore. That may not be how you want to spend your time.

"I expect Dreen runs a nice place to work at and you would be doing what you're already an expert at. So before you say no, go meet the people and see if you could team with them. I'm not trying to get rid of you. I just want you to be happy, not," C.C. said good-naturedly, "getting your computer fix hacking after hours. I don't need to worry about legal problems, not of course that you would deliberately let yourself get caught twice."

Leeth looked at him warily. They had never openly discussed his hacking before, only implicitly when he had passed on the message that Dreen thought he and C.C. had gone after the reactor. Now he said, "Are you alienated by the hacking?" He realized that was why he was worried, that his confession had burned two sets of bridges.

"Not particularly," C.C. said. "Like I said, I think you are pushing your luck going after Gingezel when you've already done time, but in principle -" C.C. shrugged. "I can't fault you for doing what I spent a lot of my youth doing it can I? Besides, if you aren't destructive and don't get caught, it's a hell of a lot less trouble for me than that metal sculpture!" C.C. shuddered. "I still have nightmares about that project."

"You weren't the one who had to move all the metal into place, and it wasn't even my project," Leeth reminded him. "It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't turned out ugly as sin." Curiosity got the better of him. "You hacked?"

"Only as a kid. Once I figured out I wasn't great and was pushing my luck, I found other distractions like girls and parties. It was pretty stupid to keep hacking with a father in the Judiciary. I suppose at a certain age that was part of the thrill though."

His smile disappeared as mentioning his father flashed him back to the conclusion of his interview. He could not say it was exactly acrimonious. They had both adopted an attitude of icy reserve, an attitude that came naturally to Ceb, and not to C.C. All the same, C.C. had been deeply hurt to realize his own father thought him capable of something that destructive.

To distract himself C.C. said, "I'm still tempted to hack though, so tell me what Joran has done to his site."

"I thought you were going to go see Mitra and her brother."

"My father," C.C. said in an icy tone, "made it very clear such a social visit would be totally inappropriate at this time."

Leeth took his time studying C.C. Usually C.C. was the one nothing bothered, the one with a joke or light comment that made everyone smile and smoothed over the rough spots. This was the first time Leeth had seen him seriously upset. At last he asked, "Are you in trouble?"

"Over Drezvir?" C.C. shook his head. "No. I'm just really insulted Ceb could seriously think I could do something like that. But I'm not in trouble. We obviously convinced him we didn't do anything, or believe me we wouldn't be walking around loose."

"And is that what he thinks? That you're destructive?"

C.C. considered. "Not exactly destructive maybe. I think he grants that I'm intrinsically creative. What he sincerely doubts is my judgement and my ability to see the consequences of my actions. Since it was all being recorded we said things very nicely, but that's the gist of it." And perhaps what hurt the most was that Ceb might be right. He had never thought of the consequences to Mitra when he started the negative PR on the reactor accident.

Talking to Leeth was helping though. C.C. half smiled. "I think what was driving him crazy was some parental sixth sense that I was up to something that I wasn't telling him. He knew I was clean on Drezvir, but that I had a bad conscience." C.C. nodded towards his bedroom where Darwin was peacefully hibernating, dreaming whatever dreams pikkants had. "Mentioning our friend to Ceb is out. So I left him as angry as I was. And he'll have to stay angry, because the Pikkant don't want their sentience known."

Leeth nodded. They had repeated that very serious discussion dozens of times and it always came out the same. Respect the Pikkants' wishes and take whatever consequences that led to. It looked like they were starting to see the consequences. C.C. had alienated his father.

"Now, firmly changing topics, tell me about Joran's site." C.C. thought a moment. "Or better still show it to me. I need a laugh."

"I'll give you some hints, but the you know the rules. You have to hack in and figure it out for yourself." Leeth moved to lean on the wall. "To be quite honest, I haven't visited it since the band walked out so I don't know if the mood has changed. But up until then the mood was upbeat, even when his wife died. Now," Leeth added, "there's an unwritten rule here that since he's gone out of his way to make the PR site fun, you leave the business site alone. I doubt you could hack that anyways, it's one of the most secure around. All I know is that the word going around is that it's a big mistake to try. Okay?"

"Leeth, I'm not looking for trouble. I'm just looking for a little fun and I'm curious because Joran is a friend."

"Then have a go at it. There's all sorts of stuff going on. To start with, there's a lot of smart mouth comments in the you're hot/cold category on finding the good stuff, insults if you've done something dumb, and the occasional really impassioned entreaty here and there to leave stuff alone. The main highs come from being smart enough to find the hidden stuff. There are a lot of alternative lyrics to songs, some with Joran singing."

"Bad?" C.C. asked. "I mean he went through a streak where he released clean/not clean dual albums. Are these worse?" They had made him uncomfortable and if these couldn't be released he didn't want to hear them.

"Not really. There's nothing crude. They're mostly poking fun at things, largely himself. They make you laugh."

Well that sounded good. Joran could be very witty. "Anything else?"

"There are really good cuts of various bloopers they've made doing recordings and videos. They are hilarious, but if language bothers you ..." Leeth hadn't realized profanity or crudity might bother C.C. since no one on the team was unduly careful about it. "Just approach with caution. Joran can get pretty disgusted after the fourth or fifth time he messes up."

C.C. found he could still laugh. "I've heard him lose his temper before. His vocabulary doesn't bother me. It was just a couple of those albums that made me uncomfortable. I don't know why. Yes, I do. He's capable of really beautiful stuff, so why be crude? But anyways those bloopers sound good. What else?"

"When a concert is on, there are free tickets. And there are a lot of touched up unreleased images of them traveling and backstage. I mean I assume they don't travel in that makeup junk so they touched them up. Or maybe they do. And there are booby traps.

"Such as?"

"You'll find out!"

*****

Chapter 50

"Juttar, would you please be so kind as to explain to Joran that just because he owns the place, he cannot change the rules on a daily basis to suit himself." Ralin Heusgar, Gingezel Head of Security, kept his voice polite and civil. His face was an interesting study of control and suppressed exasperation, but his well-trained body was betraying him. The tension was much more obvious in it than his face. Ralin was of course, quite used to Joran by now and Joran's style, and he had known that sooner or later Joran would really push his luck and they'd clash, but that didn't mean he was enjoying the process.

Joran didn't wait for Juttar to speak. "Ralin, what the hell is the use of setting up a planet, and agonizing for galaxy knows how long about how to make it a safe place if my own best friend can't come to it to be safe!?"

"Your friend happens to be facing serious criminal charges."

"That is a technicality. You know damned well they'll be dropped."

This was old ground. Ralin happened to like Dreen Pendi and truly regretted this situation, but he did not share Joran's confidence that everything was over except paperwork. He'd seen too many strange twists in legal proceedings by now. "I do not know. I hope, but I do not know. And I expect every criminal in the galaxy hoping to get out of trial would be prepared to make the same claim.

"Joran, get this through your head. The legal structures of Gingezel, and the Criminal Class Visas in particular, were designed specifically so that anyone currently facing charges is not welcome, and if they slip through our screening, they are subject to deportation. Otherwise this place doesn't work. And there can't be exceptions."

Joran looked mulish. He studied Ralin. "Maybe, if being Head of Security, you aren't clever enough to figure out how to make an exception for someone innocent, we need a new Head of Security."

"Fine," Ralin snapped. "I'm sure your friend Ghen Kulgalu can recommend someone to suit you."

Joran stared, wide-eyed. "And what the hell does that mean!"

Juttar had been watching with more interest than concern, but it was obviously time to intervene. "It means you just pushed Ralin too far, Joran. Think about it. You hired him for being honest. Don't shit on him for it now."

Joran rounded on Juttar. "And whose side are you on anyway?"

"Dreen's. He happens to be my friend too, remember?" Juttar gave Joran a quelling look. "But Ralin is right. Things aren't over until who did the sabotage is proven and charges are formally dropped. If things go sour, you won't have done Dreen any favors by having him involved in bending laws. That could really damage his position, Joran."

"Right." Joran gave Juttar a disgusted look. "Am I supposed to just keep him and Mitra in space somewhere on the Allegro for a few months? Since no one seems to know who or where all the real bad guys are, where the hell else are they supposed to go?"

"I would prefer Gingezel. That was why I agreed to discuss it with Ceb Windegren for you if we can come to a reasonable proposition to make to him. But I want it to be legal, and something Ralin is comfortable with. So, would you like to count to ten, or whatever you're currently doing Joran, then apologize. I told you to think about it, but I believe you missed the point. Joran, if Ralin would bend the laws for you, how could you ever trust him after that to not bend the laws for someone else – someone you want sectors away from Gingezel?"

There was a significant pause while Joran turned to the wall and apparently took Juttar's advice. Then he ran a hand over his face, through his curls, and turned back to Ralin. "Sorry Ralin, Juttar's right, and thank you for being honest. I'll probably even be really grateful when this mess is over. Right now, I'm just feeling trapped."

Ralin gave a curt nod. "Understandable."

Juttar turned to Ralin. "And what about your crack about Ghen? I honestly need clarification on that one. I mean, I know the way Joran was pushing, he was asking for something, but you took a direction I didn't expect. You have to know Joran's dislike of rules and limits by now, but beyond that, are you saying you now question his basic honesty? Or were you simply mad and saying if he wanted someone to cheat to hire someone dishonest?"

Ralin gave a rueful smile. "Oh, Joran's honest enough once you get used to him." He turned to Joran. "My turn to apologize."

Joran shrugged it off.

Ralin continued, "By the way, has Juttar always been like this?"

Joran grinned. "No, he's mellowed a lot. You should have roomed with him. Besides the behave yourself lectures and picking over every word you said, he used to make cases and quote precedents. Personally I never listened, but he and Dreen would argue for hours."

"Which we don't have, Joran." Juttar was trying to get back on track.

Ralin and Joran exchanged 'he can talk about us but we can't talk about him' looks but focused.

"Thank you," Juttar said dryly. "Ralin, I have a few questions for you, and please be candid and don't mince words. You know Dreen from working with him and you have his P2. If there was a legal way to get him there, would you be uncomfortable under the circumstances?"

"No, I haven't any problems with Dreen. What I have problems with is the precedent leaving us wide open for trouble later."

"Fair enough." Juttar nodded. "Now, Mitra would be part of the package. Can you comment on her?"

Ralin shook his head. "I can't honestly say I ever noticed her around, much less thought about her. If you're working up to something, just assume she's part of the package."

Juttar nodded. "All right. And would you tell me exactly what happens if someone arrives at a Gingezel spaceport when there are currently criminal charges against them?"

"They are denied access, and held in detention at the spaceport until they can be deported. We deport them in the manner whoever is after them wants. Sometimes they ask us to deliver the person, sometimes they ask us to hold them until they can ship guards."

"And what happens if they say 'please, don't deport them'?"

Ralin stared. "Why would someone do that?"

"I'm not thinking of violent criminals. I'm thinking white-collar crime. What would you do if someone said 'so that's where the son-of-a-bitch, or bitch as the case may be, is. We thought bail was set high enough they'd say put, but they took off and we've being searching the whole damned quadrant for them. Prosecution says they need six to eight weeks, or months to be realistic, to complete their case. Could you please just let them holiday and keep an eye on them until then? If we get them back, their so-and-so lawyers will just soft talk some judge into letting them out again until trial. Then they'll just take off again, and it'll cost us another fortune to hunt them down again."

Ralin was incapable of that kind of spur of the moment speculation. "It's never happened."

Juttar didn't push. "What does happen?"

"It doesn't happen very often. Most people are smart enough to read the passport conditions where it says that if they show up with criminal charges currently against them, they'll be deported to whoever's after them. But when someone tries it, we do exactly what we said we would. We deport them to whoever is after them."

Juttar nodded. "So, both in the letter of the rules, and the practice, it's assumed some jurisdiction wants this person."

Ralin nodded slowly, finally appreciating the direction Juttar was heading. "And in the case of Dreen and Mitra, it's exactly the opposite. Actually, the authorities want them safely out of the Farr Sector while they sort things out. They would even be in the company of a member of the Interplanetary Judiciary for their protection." He nodded. "It might be all right that way. If later someone on Drezvir objects, it's the Interplanetary Judiciary's fault as much as ours."

Ralin liked that. Even though he knew it came with the position, there were times when he felt like all the other law enforcement agencies in the galaxy were just waiting for him to screw up.

Unfortunately, he was wrong, and Juttar knew it. He was trying to figure out how to set Ralin straight without totally destroying his case when Joran plunged in.

"Sorry Ralin, but you're out of luck. I'm no legal type but I got the impression that C.C.'s dad is stretching it a lot to even go to Drezvir, and he and the Interplanetary Judiciary will both be glad to see him out of there. And as for coming here, if he can, I think it would be an excuse for a long awaited vacation."

"Oh." Ralin's face fell.

Juttar smiled. "I told you when it comes right down to it, Joran's honest, even if it hurts him."

"Is he right?"

"More or less. The situation between the Interplanetary Judiciary and the Farr Sector Judiciary is strained at best since they have declined to join the galaxy, so it's very arguable just what the Interplanetary Judiciary powers are if any in the Farr Sector. So I think Ceb Windegren would like to be in and out of Drezvir before his presence is an issue. Leave it as a situation where he did them a minor favor because of the inter-sector implications, and use the goodwill later when he needs it."

Ralin nodded, not at all pleased with what Juttar was saying. Still, he was starting to buy into what Juttar was arguing. No one was chasing Dreen and Mitra. They had permission to leave. And the rules didn't say they had to deport someone with charges against them. They said they would if asked. It was a fine distinction, but it was a distinction.

Juttar let the silence lengthen, signaling Joran to let Ralin think. He didn't know the man well enough to know which way he'd jump. But he was quite sure he was the type to not be hurried, or he'd dig his heels in, like he had with Joran just now.

At last Ralin squared his shoulders and looked from Juttar to Joran. "Well, having someone else to blame or not doesn't change what's right, does it? I can see the sense in what Juttar is saying, and we'll do it that way. Dreen and Mitra can come and we won't deport them unless someone asks us to. But Joran," his look was uncompromising, "they are criminals until charges are formally dropped. I can't make exceptions on how they are treated – they will be processed coming in and wear monitoring equipment."

Joran thought about protesting. Dreen and Mitra had been through enough already. But Ralin was right. He couldn't start making that sort of exception at all. Word would get around. "Fair enough."

"Rules are rules, right?" There was a slight smile at the corner of Juttar's lips that Ralin missed.

But Joran knew his old roommate inside out. "All right, Juttar, how did we just set ourselves up?"

"Don't you remember the rule that everyone traveling in the party of a criminal is subject to a Criminal Class Visa and the same processing and monitoring?" His smile broadened. "So, rules are rules. You just decided to give a senior member of the Interplanetary Judiciary a Criminal Class Visa, and only let him enter with a strip search, confiscation of personal effects, and monitoring. Now, I'll give Ceb that call."

"Hell!"

*****

Chapter 51

"Well." Ceb rotated his tight shoulders and took a grateful sip of the steaming hot liquid he assumed was tea. He took another sip. "This is rather pleasant, Dr. Auta. What is it?"

"One of the few sector specialties. It's made from a combination of grains indigenous to the second planet settled. They're roasted and ground, and blended with one of the smoky-flavored teas the settlers brought with them and established."

Ceb took another sip. "It would be received well as an export I should think. Has that ever been tried?"

"Not seriously. This sector rather prides itself on self-sufficiency and isolation. I think a halfhearted effort was made when contact was first established and trade set up, and when the export failed everyone was pleased.

Ceb nodded, content with this respite and the small talk. He asked a number of other lifestyle questions about the Farr Sector, about their tendency to like relatively low slung connected buildings, the education system, how relaxation seemed to focus within the family unit and to not include theater. The Farrese had remained remarkably unknown to the rest of the galaxy, and it was uncommon to find an Outsider here like Trebur who had known both lives. As the discussion moved from generalities about the sector to specifics about the hardships of living on Drezvir, he found himself wondering how Mitra, who was after all an intrinsically elegant comfort loving little thing, had tolerated it. And that thought brought him back to reality.

Ceb put the empty cup down and declined a refill. "I think that we may well have collected all the information we can at this stage, but you're the man on the spot. What do you recommend?"

"I feel on the spot," Trebur said with feeling. He'd rather thought that Mr. Windegren's having to pull a weapon on Rostin was the low point of the day and things would improve. Now though he decided he had been most uncomfortable sitting through that father-son confrontation. He and his own father had the warmest of relationships and he felt sorry both for Ceb and C.C. and he did not want to discuss that meeting at all. "I feel like I shouldn't be here, that there should be a senior Judiciary rep. But no one anticipated this sort of criminal problem. We all saw negligence, at worst."

"Well, that rep will be here soon enough, but you can't change the fact you're the man here and you know the players. Your rep will rely on your judgment, just like I am. How did you end up here by the way, if that isn't being too personal? I mean beyond your obvious technical expertise."

"You really want to know?"

"Yes, but I can't insist on an answer."

"Oh, I don't mind. My bosses might, but right now they aren't exactly in my good graces. They never said explicitly, but," Trebur's lips twitched in the briefest smile, "I think it was because I have the highest aggregate winnings in an ongoing poker game that's run about fourteen months now."

"I see. Someone expected this might well be a game of bluff. Well, they weren't far off the mark, were they? You're seriously uncomfortable giving an opinion?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Well, if I soliloquize for the recorded record, will you correct me if your opinion counters mine?"

"Possibly," Trebur said guardedly.

Ceb allowed himself one of his rare smiles. "If I get that son of mine out of the way will you relax a bit? He's where my judgment is most likely to be flawed, and you're most likely to not want to comment." Ceb steepled his hands and sighed. "C.C. is up to something. I'd swear to it, but I don't think it has anything to do with Drezvir. He simply has a guilty conscience and it showed. It may not even be anything illegal. He knows perfectly well I disapprove of a large percentage of his legal activities, but he in turn considers me a dry old document pusher, so we're about even. But Drezvir is the issue. I honestly think he was both offended and appalled that he was even considered a candidate."

Trebur nodded, still feeling sorry for both of them. "I think he was really shocked that anyone would take his anti-waste talk as more than talk, and he was appalled at being a candidate for something destructive."

"And Mr. Kembel?"

"That man has been hacking something for sure, and he thought he was in trouble for it." Trebur didn't even realize that he'd started talking freely. "But it wasn't the Drezvir system. Are you going to pursue that?"

"How can I? It's a big galaxy. Where hacking is concerned, someone has to complain first, and be prepared to press charges. If no one does, he's been lucky this time. Even if someone does, it has to be traceable to him under galactic jurisprudence.

"So that brings us to the principals in the case," Ceb continued. "If you prefer I can call Dr. Mirelle back, but I gathered he and Dr. Cebron are prepared to accept hacking, that is deliberate sabotage, as the source of the accident?"

That was a technical question and one Trebur was comfortable with. "The last remotely likely physical causes are ruled out. The final detector assembly from the reactor has been tested and found to have been all right. The Tranus Dynamics representative was free to go home yesterday, and he left. Largely for her own peace of mind Tina Kern – she's ContSaft's rep and a company owner like Dreen is at Nemizcan – is having Tranngol run a series of more sophisticated tests on her components on that assembly for her. If they do find anything wrong, it won't have been enough of a malfunction to cause the accident – that's already been tested and ruled out. She simply wants to know exactly how her equipment held up to the accident conditions."

"So you're saying if the hacking hadn't been found, you would have been left with an accident that couldn't have happened but did."

"Not couldn't have. Systems are extremely complex and improbable events can happen. What we were left with was the possibility that Mitra did not get the power distributions correct at the design stage so the safety system was mis-designed, or that an un-allowed for quantum effect in the Nemizcan computer corrupted the ContSaft control and safety system despite all the protective measures they had in place to prevent it. Both are extremely improbable, but not impossible."

"So if there hadn't been the hacking, one of them would have been held culpable?" Ceb asked.

Trebur said, "Now you've come to a question I would sooner not answer. Personally, after working with them I don't think either is capable of making a design mistake on purpose, but as you say, the accident is real enough."

"And the fortuitous discovery of the hacking solved that problem. The easier one first. Could Mitra have set the hacking up, post accident, to clear herself?"

"I don't think she has the expertise."

"I know her background better than you, and I agree. But could she have asked Dreen Pendi to, and would he have agreed? I don't know if you picked up on it, but Mr. Linderson made an allusion to the idea that Dr. Pendi had considered taking a fall, presumably either to protect his employees, or more likely Mitra." Ceb frowned. "We may as well couple two questions. Could Dr. Pendi have hacked the system to protect Mitra, of his own initiative?"

Trebur shook his head. "That's one I refuse to touch, Mr. Windegren, the philosophical issue of how far either of them would go for love. But it's irrelevant at a practical level, so we don't have to consider it, do we?"

"How so?" Ceb thought he knew what was coming, but he preferred to have Trebur Auta formulate his own thoughts and put them on record.

"Dreen Pendi is justifiably proud of his competence in the computing field. He likes to think he's good, and he simply wasn't following those two young people of his. The result was he was furious, and he wasn't faking that. He simply didn't know how the hacking was done."

"I agree. which brings us to Olan Rostin."

"And the probability that poor Durstin Fallor has been trying to tell us the truth all along," Trebur added. He shook his head. "Poor man, what a nightmare."

Ceb was not sure he agreed with that last statement, but he didn't want to dry up the flow of comments from Trebur. Instead he said, "At least it is reassuring that the physician in charge agreed to specialist telemonitoring immediately. That both means that Dr. Fallor should be available for questioning relatively soon, and that we don't have to worry much about his medical safety. Between the specialist monitoring and the full time guards no one should try anything. I didn't dare give the doctor the real reason for the need for a guard for fear of alienating him. If he assumes potential suicide, fine."

"You honestly mean someone might try to kill him?" Trebur was still appalled by that thought. Then he remembered the weapon Ceb carried.

"They haven't so far," Ceb said matter-of-factly as he stared out at the dusk and the strange Drezvir landscape. He suspected that meant Olan Rostin wanted Dr. Fallor well and did not expect anything he said to be believed. "And now we have protection in place." The quality of Sergeant Giobi and the other Farr Sector Judiciary guards had impressed him. They would be careful about anything ingested by Dr. Fallor, and the monitoring specialists would question any medications. "The ones I'm still worried about are Doctors Kael and Pendi." Again they were protected by the guards at their door but there was more incentive to be creative where they were concerned and he was coming to realize just how strong Olan Rostin's control of the planet was.

The reds were deepening to purple, and a moon, presumably the larger one C.C. had said was called Sinnia, was already hanging in the sky. The Sector Judiciary and the Mining Guild had long ago been contacted and had officials en route from the nearest planetary systems. He would have time for some rest before they got here, and Ceb hoped sleep, but he doubted it. He knew Niki was staying overnight in C.C.'s habitat but he had declined. Ceb felt he should stay physically present in the miners' habitat to reinforce Trebur Auta's authority. Also, it was better if C.C. and he had a bit of distancing. Sometime too he should eat, but he wasn't hungry. All he felt was old and tired, tired of the multitude of people in the galaxy and their infinite capability to cause each other grief. Maybe when this was all sorted out, he should make peace with C.C. and come back to the terraformers' remote seaside habitat. He would like that, somewhere almost lifeless, away from people.

The silence lengthened to the point where Trebur became uncomfortable. He didn't know if Mr. Windegren had more to say or not. But one thing was certain. The man looked as tired as he was, and he had to be hungry too. "Mr. Windegren, shall I have the guard bring trays in? Or would you prefer to eat alone?"

"Pardon?"

"You must be hungry. Would you like trays brought in for us if there's more to do, or would you like to be taken to your room and have some privacy and rest?"

Ceb looked at the younger man who had held up remarkably well, all things considered. "I suspect we could both use the rest. If you can wait a few more minutes, there's one thing more to discuss. I realize it won't be your decision, but I would like to sound you out. As I said, I am more worried about Dr. Kael and Dr. Pendi's safety than Dr. Fallor's. If either one of them could be made to look like they were responsible, and considered themselves 'caught out' and killed themselves, well," he shrugged, "that could be attractive to some people. It would mean I was wrong, and free Mr. Rostin. It would eliminate the need to question Dr. Fallor. If it were acceptable to you as the Judiciary representative, I would like to seriously consider the offer from the authorities on Gingezel to take them, and extradite them back this sector if necessary. Should I call Gingezel?"

*****

Chapter 52

"But I can't just leave!" Mitra's eyes were wide and her tone was that of shocked disbelief. She looked at the circle of faces, Dreen, Niki, Ceb, Trebur Auta. At the moment their expressions mirrored hers.

"Mitra, it really would be prudent," Ceb said firmly.

It didn't work like it had when she was six. Mitra turned on him. "Really Uncle Ceb! No one is going to hurt me, and if everything is sorted out," her mind hadn't quite come to grips with that, "then I can get busy again. There's so much to do, and –"

"Like what?" Niki demanded. "Get out of here while the going's good, Sis."

"Niki! Really!" Mitra's censorious tone sounded remarkably like her mother.

"Yes, really! Things aren't a hundred percent sorted out, a guard –"

Dreen stopped Niki with a shake of his head. He knew what Niki was trying to say, but he'd either get an explosion, or scare Mitra silly with the idea that she could be at risk. "Mitra, what all really has to be done before you can leave?"

"Millions of things!" She'd been so busy, and then just cooped up going nuts, and now she could get things done.

"Well, get out your compad and start dictating the list so we can figure out what the million things are and how long it will take."

"Dreen, I want to get some sleep." The day had been exhausting. "Tomorrow is soon enough."

"Everyone wants to sleep, but before Dr. Auta and Mr. Windegren can, they have plans to make. And you are those plans. No one is going to force a decision on you, but they really do need to know what you have to do. So start at the top of the list." Dreen honestly thought he'd kept his tone calm and patient, but he got a glare.

"Don't use that patronizing tone on me!"

She was so cute. In spite of his best efforts, a smile played on Dreen's lips.

Mitra caught it, and smiled ruefully in turn. "I need patronizing?" She didn't mean to be difficult. There was just too much to do. She sighed. "All right. First, this was my project. I can't be irresponsible and just take off when Tranngol still needs me. For starts, I don't even vaguely understand this hacking stuff, and there's still other stuff to be tested to be sure he can cross them off the list."

Dreen said, "I think it might take quite a while for you to understand the hacking. I can try to explain, but I'm not sure I understand it all myself. All the same I'll be happy to try – on the Allegro. And when we get to Gingezel you can sit down with Brys for as long as you want. On Gingezel, Mitra. Try calling her from here and I'll tell her she's not authorized to talk to you."

"Dreen!"

"Don't 'Dreen' me Mitra. There's no reason to stay here for that software. Unless," he turned to Trebur, "there is still some doubt that hacking caused the accident? Is there still testing of other aspects to do?"

"No, there's no doubt," Trebur said firmly. Was Mitra crazy wanting to stay here? "Who did the hacking is uncertain, but that's the cause."

"And chasing loose ends. Do you know how much more Tranngol has to do?" Mitra was feeling stubborn.

"Very little. The last testing on the instrumentation assembly was completed and Milton Trave went home yesterday."

This time Mitra was truly offended. She felt like a criminal for the first time since being locked up. Her voice shook slightly as she said, "No one told me the test was finished."

"I didn't think I should be having you continue to work until Mr. Windegren got here."

"Quite proper," Ceb said, since Trebur seemed as distressed at upsetting Mitra as he had by any of the other events of the day. "I believe you told me earlier there was only one lady wanting more use of some equipment for her own benefit?"

"That's right." Trebur turned back to Mitra and Dreen "Tina wants some additional tests done on her part of that last assembly. It won't affect anything. She just says it's a good chance to see some destructive test results."

"So only Tina is left?" Mitra was staring. "I mean besides Tranngol's crew?"

"And he's sent for transport."

"So Mitra, do you really need to watch the last of Tina's tests?" Dreen asked. He wouldn't mind himself, but he'd happily settle for Tina sending them to him. He wanted out of this place.

"No ..." It was a reluctant, stretched syllable. She wasn't a computer expert. They wouldn't mean that much. She'd just been so hopeful that something would be found majorly wrong with that last assembly.

Dreen turned to Ceb Windegren. "I realize we are still formally under arrest and will be treated as such until this is all sorted out. So I will ask formally, may I please have a few minutes in private with Tina before I go?"

"May I ask the reason? I would prefer all your conversations stay recorded."

Dreen was not about to cause trouble when things might be going to resolve themselves. "It's personal, not business related. She and Andrai are old friends of mine, and she admitted the Drezvir situation was straining their relationship. I gave her what I hoped was good advice, but," he shrugged, "that's always uncertain, isn't it? I wanted to see if I compounded things or not. But I can wait. I can settle for just seeing her to say goodbye, on record and not intrude on her privacy. We can talk later when things are resolved."

"Then please do," Ceb said approvingly. At least one of them was being reasonable.

Dreen turned back to Mitra. "So, it sounds like they don't need us here for anything technical, and we can get on with our regular lives. What else was on your list?"

Mitra still wasn't buying the fact things were over. It wasn't possible that what she had focused on so hard it seemed like she'd done it forever was over, just like that. She sat there, not really seeing the faces around her, trying to rearrange her thoughts.

"Mitra," Dreen prompted, "what has to be done once the analysis is finished?"

The rephrasing helped. "A new hybrid reactor has to be built and got up and running, and reintegrated with the geothermal base. And if," she looked from Niki to Ceb, "it really does turn out Durstin was the problem, we have to redo the technology transfer."

"Do you want to do it yourself again?" Dreen asked carefully. He desperately wanted Mitra to not say she was disappearing to the periphery for years again, but he also wanted to give her the right to please herself.

"No." Mitra made a face. "But it won't be my choice will it?" Ari would probably just send her back.

Relieved, Dreen smiled. "My guess is that you'd be much more useful working out that better geothermal design. Or," his smile broadened, "the better still one you think of halfway through, or the better still one that comes after that." He had a pretty good idea of what kind of a researcher Mitra would be.

"Dreen, don't tease." Mitra was frowning.

"Who's teasing? Chett will be calling the shots, and I think that is the way he will see it." Dreen wasn't sure Chett had thought it out yet, but that was the way it was going to turn out. Chett was going to run Dellmaice Power. Dreen intended to get back to running Nemizcan as soon as he was confident charges really were going to be dropped. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed running the place. And his first action was going to be to bring in some of the ContSaft people plus Tranngol's software team as consultants to tuneup their designs and QA. Since Dellmaice Power was likely to be without in-house management that could run it Chett would have to actually do what he'd told the business reporters he intended to do, run the place. Chett would love it. He loved tuning organizations up.

"I think you'll agree your place is in R & D. All you'll have to do is tell him who should do the installation. And," he added hastily as he could see the wheels starting to go around on that problem, "you can think of that all the way to Gingezel and have a nice long conference call there."

Niki grinned. "I think you've finally met someone who can handle you, Sis. What else is on the list?"

Mitra ignored him. "Chett?" She'd totally forgotten Dreen telling her he now owned Dellmaice Power. From her perspective it was the least important thing that had happened today.

"Well," Dreen apologized, "I can't really run two companies, and sometimes I think I can only run Nemizcan because it's mostly computing. Chett, on the other hand, is a born manager and organizer. He loves to sort things out – he'll love your research style where there are new ideas all the time. It will be a challenge for him." Then his tone changed. "You will be able to work with Chett?"

Mitra was starting to vaguely remember part of what Dreen and Niki had said. "Oh, yes, of course," she said quickly, feeling embarrassed for being stupid.

Dreen misunderstood the embarrassment. "I'm sure we can work something out if that isn't what you want." He was hurt though. He'd wanted Mitra to be indifferent to Chett.

"No." If Dreen could read her mind, she could read his sometimes too. "Chett and I'll manage just fine. I'm just getting disoriented with too many changes all at once. I'd honestly forgotten he was going to run Dellmaice Power and I feel stupid."

"Fair enough." Dreen slipped an arm around her shoulders. "So, is there anything else on the list?"

"Only something personal. You wanted to see Tina for a few minutes. I really want to see Lilla and Tessa."

"That's the lady who was your friend while you did the installation, and her little girl, isn't it?" Niki asked for Ceb's benefit.

Mitra nodded. "I can't just leave." She sighed. "Lilla is being so brave and just carrying on. I keep expecting her to just collapse – she lost her husband in the accident," Mitra explained since Ceb looked puzzled. "But she doesn't. I suppose she has to keep going for Tessa. Poor Lilla. Her dream was for Tessa to one day get to Gingezel. That was unlikely before. Now it will never happen."

"Why not?" Dreen asked. "We haven't exactly had a chance to discuss actually getting married, but I had meant to ask you on the way what you thought of getting married on Gingezel. Why can't Lilla be an attendant of yours and come?"

"Oh, Dreen, that's a nice idea, but she could never afford it! And to be quite honest, I'm not sure I can either. I'm not much good at saving money." She looked at her brother. "Niki, you're my financier. Can I afford it? A booking for Lilla and Tessa on one of those liner spaceships, and the hotel on Gingezel?" She hoped he'd say yes. It really was a great idea, even if it cost all her spending money. She could always earn more.

"How should I know? I'm still waiting for the bills from your last Gingezel vacation to show up."

Dreen did not think this was the time to say there would hardly be any. He did not think the arrangements for the holiday were any business of the Farr or Interplanetary Judiciary. Instead he said, "I wouldn't worry much about the hotel part. I expect Joran will insist on putting everyone up in his. And if you'd like, I can send the Exec – that's my business yacht – for her."

"That's an imposition, and I'm not sure Lilla would be comfortable and accept." She frowned, thinking, then smiled. "Of course! I'm stupid. She can hitch a ride with C.C."

"C.C.?" Ceb frowned.

"He was going to Gingezel in the next few weeks anyway. Some kind of follow-up work." C.C. didn't want Darwin hibernating outside of his normal environment any longer than necessary so he was making a quick trip to Gingezel. Mitra was quite sure however that Darwin had never been mentioned to Ceb other than as a pet. Otherwise C.C. would not be going on about this Darwin isn't sentient nonsense. "Since I'll want him to be bridesman, he'll be staying for the wedding. Then he'll be coming back here so she'll have a ride back too."

"Great," Dreen said with a singular lack of enthusiasm. C.C. as bridesman.

*****

Chapter 53

This departure from Drezvir was totally unlike Mitra's previous one. The last had been businesslike with no one to see her off since she'd said goodbye to Lilla the night before. This time, despite her protests, Lilla had insisted on coming to the spaceport.

"Lilla, let go!" Lilla was holding her and crying. "You'll catch up to me in less than two weeks."

"I'm sorry." Now that tears had finally started they didn't want to stop. It wasn't fair to Mitra though. She'd have her cry out in private. Lilla made a valiant effort, sniffed loudly, and let Mitra go. "I honestly can't believe I'll see you on Gingezel." She managed a watery smile. "It's wonderful of C.C. to take us."

"He adores Tessa. You know that. Now, I do have to go." Maybe it was just like last time after all. There was this nightmare feeling she'd never leave. The reasons were different, but the gut reaction was the same. Lilla let go and Mitra thought she'd escaped, but she hadn't gone three steps before Martine tried to crush her, and Martine was big enough to crush her.

"If you're going off to Gingezel to get married and leaving me stuck on this dump," she drawled, her black face full of mischief, "so help me I'll never speak to you again if I don't get the full video of the long dress and everything!" Martine released Mitra, took one look at Mitra's face and laughed. "Horrors, right?"

"Horrors," Mitra agreed. They both had an aversion to formal weddings.

"Well, off with you then – before something happens to make you stay."

Those were her sentiments exactly, and Mitra took Martine's advice. She put her arm through Dreen's and pulled him towards the door.

***

"Welcome aboard." Rhea stepped forward to kiss each of Dreen's cheeks.

"Me too?" Niki asked with mock wistfulness.

"You bet." Rhea kissed him too. "But weren't you saying something about a fiancé?"

"So?" Niki grinned. "Dreen and Mitra are engaged too."

"Are you!" Rhea was delighted. Dreen got kissed again and Mitra got hugged. Then Mitra got kissed and Dreen got his hand shaken by Jon and Arn.

When that chaos was over Mitra turned to Niki. "At the risk of embarrassing myself, who did you get yourself engaged to?"

Arn raised his eyebrows. "Niki, is the list that long?"

"Not anymore." He turned to Mitra. "Sanja."

Mitra barely knew her. In fact, she wasn't sure she was attaching the right face to the name. "From your office, right?"

This time it was Jon who laughed. "Definitely a long list. It sounds like you two keep in touch about like my sister and I do. How about we get into space, and then Niki can spend the rest of the trip telling you how wonderful she is." He turned to Dreen. "Your Second Skin is still in its locker. Going to come up front with Rhea and me once we clear planet?"

He'd love to. That had been an incredible experience. Dreen started to say yes, then looked at Mitra, so tiny and exhausted beside him. "Thanks, but I'll keep Mitra company this trip."

Mitra had seen his face. "I don't need my hand held all the way," she said to Jon. "Of course he'll fly with you."

"It doesn't have to be a problem," Rhea said. "Joran had us pick up a Second Skin your size when we picked up our passengers on Plenata. You aren't agoraphobic?"

Mitra was lost.

"They like to fly unshielded," Dreen explained. "Transparent all around. That's why they need Second Skins."

"Oh! No, I'm not agoraphobic. I'd love it."

Niki and Ceb exchanged longing looks. That was something you'd talk about the rest of your life. It would be an imposition to the point of rudeness to ask though, although if they had thought it an option both would have risked being rude on the way to Drezvir.

Arn caught the look. "Niki, Ceb, we didn't think to arrange anything for you." Actually Joran had said to keep Ceb off the bridge since he was Judiciary. But Arn didn't buy that. The Judiciary had to have read every patent for the Allegro so many times they had memorized them. "But if you don't object to wearing cleaned Second Skins from the band, we can probably fit you." The whole band could not travel on the Allegro. It was too small to take more than two or three passengers plus the pilots, and with the four passengers they were taking back to Gingezel it would be cramped. But the band members all loved the Allegro and handled the problem by an informal rotation between flying on the Allegro and traveling with the equipment and entourage. So they all stored Second Skins aboard.

"If it isn't an imposition." Ceb was beaming.

"Not at all. Now, let's get going and get rid of this damned red dust," Jon said. Rhea and Jon headed for the bridge.

There was a minor problem for the others though. They were being polite and waiting for Mitra to go first. She headed in the direction indicated by Arn, got to the doorway, and froze.

"Oh!" This was a sitting room, more luxurious than any she'd had in various suites on Gingezel, and they had been very classy.

"Pretty fancy, hmm?" Niki observed from behind her and gave her a push. "Move it, Sis."

Mitra stepped in. "But where do we sit?"

"Anywhere. At takeoff foot rests and strapping will appear and the chairs will orient themselves." Arn was looking at Mitra. "Cancel anywhere. You're smaller than I remember. You'd better claim Rhea's chair," he pointed, "or if that still feels too big, stretch out on the couch. I've seen Joran so wiped he's asleep before we clear atmosphere."

*****

Chapter 54

Roween stood at the cooktop stirring a pot of homemade soup. She was feeling very much like she had been left holding down the fort. She rather liked that anachronistic phrase, it was better than most that Chelan found in his historical research. Chelan was sick. She occasionally wondered if teaching at a university with a large off-world population was the best career choice for someone whose immune system seemed extremely susceptible to off-world viruses. And he was impossible about antiviral agents. He dutifully took them, but he said it was just to keep her happy for the course of the virus and they had no effect. Roween was sure that caused an inverse placebo effect, and if he didn't keep telling himself they didn't work, they would. Then he could keep going, instead of lying around the house like he had been the last few days. After all, it wasn't even like anything particularly serious was going around.

Then just after Chelan got sick Niki suddenly announced he had some off-world business and simply left. He hadn't even said where he was going or when he would be back. He had just kissed her goodbye and said to take care of Chelan. Niki never had off-world business. He worked with the hyperweb. She really and truly hoped he wasn't in trouble again with all of the market volatility they were having in the agribusiness sector. That idea had preyed on her mind until she finally got worried enough to call that nice girl Sanja. But all Sanja had said was she preferred not to discuss Niki. That left Roween with two worries to choose between. Was Niki in trouble at work, or had he and Sanja had such a serious fight that he felt obliged to be off-planet until she calmed down. And Roween had allowed herself such nice hopes that this might finally be something serious for Niki.

She couldn't even walk down the street for a sympathetic talk with Beti. Ceb was off on another one of those Judiciary trips, and Beti had left yesterday to visit her mother while she waited for results from lab tests. Well, at least nothing new was wrong with Mitra. They hadn't heard from her since a day or so before Chelan got sick, and he had insisted they not worry her by calling until he was well. At least that was sensible on his part. Maybe now Mitra was settling down and trying to figure out what she had done wrong, instead of wasting energy on this silly fussing about lawyers. Everyone knew what lawyers cost! And Dellmaice Power had a full and competent staff of them. Roween gave the soup another stir. A few more minutes of simmering and it would be ready, a lovely clear broth. Just what Chelan needed, nothing too heavy.

"Roween dear, there is a call for you in the library." Chelan was standing in the kitchen door wrapped in his shabby plaid robe, his wispy hair all over the place since he had scratched his head.

"I can take it here. Supper is almost finished." The fancy holoprojector was in the library, but her compad was adequate for a call.

"No you can't, dear," Chelan said firmly. "This will take a while, and you will want to concentrate. Stay here and you will have half your mind on cooking."

That had an ominous sound to it, and for a moment Roween wondered if something was wrong with Niki, or Mitra. But Chelan didn't look upset. In fact, he looked better than he had for days. But he did look determined. Giving in to the inevitable, she untied her apron. "Who is it?"

"Anton from the Anton band."

"Really Chelan, who is it?" He must be feeling better to tease.

"It is Anton, and I do really wish you'd go, dear. He said he would wait rather than you call back, but he is on Gingezel, not down the street." Actually Chelan knew with the dedicated Gingezel hyperweb it was like he was just down the street, but he was feeling just the slightest bit a coward. He wanted Roween to go ask questions to Joran, not him. Somehow he didn't feel strong enough yet. He was absolutely delighted that Joran said Mitra was safely on the Allegro with Niki and Ceb and Dreen, but even telling that to Roween would lead to a lot of questions he would sooner not answer.

Roween shook her head indulgently. Chelan did love to work up the most elaborate practical jokes for her. She wondered who he had conned into helping him this time. Well, she would humor him. She started for the library then paused. She did want to play along well since he had gone to the trouble. "Do you know why Anton is calling?"

"To tell you Mitra is fine, and on her way to join him on Gingezel. He wants to know if we are coming too." That hadn't been that hard to get out after all. Chelan looked straight at his wife. "I really should tell you I've already said 'yes thank you', but that I couldn't speak for you."

Roween's smile faltered. If this was a joke it didn't seem very funny. She wondered if Chelan had caught something bizarre and was feverish, maybe even hallucinating. "And why, dear, would Mitra be going to join Anton on Gingezel, not coming home to us?" If he was feverish and all mixed up, she wasn't going to remind him about the problems on Drezvir, but she was going to take his temperature and call the clinic and see exactly what was going around. Perhaps whatever it was he caught was linked to that rather strange rash on just one spot on his face. He had said to ignore it, but maybe that was a mistake.

"Roween, if after finally quitting complaining because it was a romantic concert and listening to the last Anton concert twice, you haven't figured out from M's song, age is creeping up to you." Humming that pretty new song Joran played for him yesterday, Chelan turned to get his apron. Now, why wasn't it where it should be?

Roween gave him a confused look and left. M's song? M's song? Chelan couldn't mean? The thought simply refused to form.

Chelan watched his wife's retreating back. He sincerely hoped Joran knew what he was doing with his 'just leave her to me' line. He had become rather fond of the lad these last four days. They had spent hours and hours just talking while Roween was at the university. It was a way for them both to kill the time of waiting. Those visits had surprised Chelan. Once he realized Joran not only sang, but wrote his own music, plus ran AntonCorp, he had worried he was keeping him from business. But Joran had said not to worry, so they talked. They had dreamed up ideas for wonderful semi-historic, semi-fantasy cities. Joran had suggested that maybe with Chelan's experience with the historical cities he could now re-create some from Joran's favorite fantasy novels. They had remembered nice, funny things about Maillie. Joran had told Chelan a lot about Dreen. And he had arranged for some excellent lozenges to be delivered for his scratchy throat, and when Chelan thanked him, Joran said a lot of the singers liked them. So then they had talked music. The only topic they had studiously avoided was Mitra being on Drezvir.

Chelan uncovered the soup pot, took an experimental stir, and made a face. Really! Roween had been feeding him pap like this for days now and he was hungry. He opened the junk drawer and extracted Meg's little chef's hat. Then he tied on Roween's discarded apron since he had no idea what had happened to his, wrapped the cord around his waist twice, and walked to the parrots cage.

"Come on Meg, help me fix up the soup." Meg seemed to have got the message she was not welcome to actually walk in the food or peck it, and he needed company. He helped her into her hat, then with her positioned on his shoulder went to explore the possibilities of the refrigeration unit. First he checked the vegetable crisper. There was of course garlic and onion and celery and those lovely snap bean derivatives they had developed on Tamara. That planet just seemed to cause food to thrive. His hand hesitated over the beans. No, he was really hungry. He would go for those plain old-fashioned Terran navy beans they had discovered in that really ancient illustrated cookbook three years ago. He had yet to find any evidence in his research as to why a white bean was called navy. Chelan meditated on this while he programmed the cater unit that Roween had reluctantly installed for him to use on those nights she wasn't home, or those nights when she simply wasn't feeling inspired. Those were increasing.

Rock hard beans tumbled down the appropriate slot. He had no idea how to cook them himself, but Roween had done a wonderful job of coming up with a program for the cater unit. He might not be a good cook, but he was a good chopper and Chelan set to work on the onion and celery and garlic. Once he had a respectable mountain of them he scraped them into the soup pot. That looked much better. And meat? Surely there was still some of that really spicy dried sausage in vacpacs somewhere around? Niki had given them to him as a birthday present along with a couple of jars of prepared tomato sauce. Now that was an idea ...

By the time Chelan found the sausage and tomato sauce shoved to the very back of the lower cupboard, the cater unit had done its thing with the beans. He dumped them into the pot and opened a vacpac, sniffing appreciatively. That was a sausage. He went to work slicing, first popping a good sized chunk into his mouth. One sausage should do it. Chopping finished, Chelan opened the jar of tomato sauce and cautiously tasted a spoonful. You had to be careful with Niki and sauces. He tended to be overdo it on hot and spicy. It wasn't bad though. How much? Chelan looked at the useless label. What the hell. He dumped the whole jar in.

***

Roween stopped in the kitchen door, sniffing the air. What had Chelan been up to! She opened her mouth then firmly shut it again and walked in.

Chelan heard her and turned with a beaming smile. "I finished up supper."

"Thank you." Roween didn't trust herself to say more. "Chelan Kael, I think we have to have a talk."

Chelan looked at his wife. He said mildly, "Yes dear, we've needed to have a talk for some time now. But are we going to talk, or are you just going to tell me your opinions and expect me to agree?"

***

It was late. The dining table was littered with the remains of supper: soup, bread, and a bottle of red cooking wine. The cooking wine was the closest Chelan had been able to come to a nice bottle of plonk, and the only thing in the house that would stand up to his soup. He was still rather proud of that soup.

Roween took another mouthful of wine, too distressed and confused to even taste it. She sighed, looked at Chelan, then at the debris on the table. She was glad, intensely relieved that all appeared to be well with Mitra, but of course she had never once thought the accident was Mitra's fault. But the number of bitter pills she had been forced to swallow! Chelan, her dear sweet Chelan, had been systematically lying to her for a number of years. Why, he might as well have been keeping a mistress, a possibility Roween found only slightly more upsetting than his intellectual deceit. And her Niki was no better. He hadn't so much as trusted her with the fact he was going to Drezvir.

Worst of all, she had been wrong, not once, but twice, and majorly wrong. She had been wrong about that charmer Mark Laratte, but Roween found she couldn't be too hard on herself over that. She suspected a lot of women were wrong about Mark Laratte. But she had been wrong about something that mattered more, Gingezel. When Anton - she simply couldn't think of him as anyone else - had openly challenged her about not approving of Gingezel, she couldn't lie. She had told him that it was wrong to spend a fortune like that on frivolous entertainment, no offense of course, when there was so much important scientific research that needed funding.

Her cheeks, already flushed with wine heated as she remembered his response. Anton had laughed, actually laughed at her! Her mind replayed the mortifying scene.

***

"Dr. Kael," Joran had no intentions of being less formal unless asked to be. "Have you ever spent any of your money on frivolous entertainment, like one of my albums or attending my concerts?" He'd been primed by Chelan that Roween was an avid fan.

"Well of course I -"

"And how much money, I mean how much of your own money not grants, have you put into research?"

Roween simply stared. She got grants. She didn't fund research.

"Exactly. That's the way money goes, Dr. Kael. We want Gingezel to have the best, and that includes the best research facilities, but first we need cash flow. Research doesn't generate a relatively instant cash stream. Tourists, bless them, do. So we are concentrating on getting them.

"But it won't be long before we can start thinking beyond that. My own idea is to have the equivalent of super science centers, where kids can learn, and businessmen or potential investors, can get some hands-on experience if they want. But not just have a show-and-tell of results. Have real galaxy class research going on here, with researchers on sabbatical from various institutions. Myself, I want a really good orbiting telescope array that I can muck around with. I started out to be an astrophysicist you know."

She hadn't, and Roween was startled into speechlessness for once in her life.

***

Her blush deepened but fortunately Chelan didn't seem to notice. Why she had only nodded acceptance to the invitation to visit Gingezel herself and talk over how to do that sort of thing with Nevin and a few people. How rude Anton must have thought her!

"I think I'm starting to understand, but I'm still totally lost on one point." Roween hesitated, then said plaintively, "Is or isn't Mitra involved with Anton?"

"Joran would like it if she were, but no dear, she isn't. She's involved with his best friend, Oren and Gemma Pendi's son, Dreen."

"Oh dear!" Roween poured herself another stout glass of wine.

*****

Chapter 55

"Well, that's the best smile I've seen in a few days," Joran observed as Bojo let himself into his sitting room. He was going to have to get Bojo out of the habit of just coming and going like the place was his. "Brys letting you touch her again?" That had been one hell of a sunburn Brys had been suffering through.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Bojo's smile broadened. "She's enough improved she had me drive her over to the Sports Medicine Clinic to let Maras inspect her. He's been driving her crazy worrying."

"And you aren't worried this inspection will be hands-on?" Joran could tease because Bojo was so obviously content.

"No," Bojo laughed. "And could we drop my love life as a topic? That wasn't why I was smiling." Bojo was helping himself to a glass of juice.

"All right, why were you? And could you get me some too?"

"Sure, sorry." Bojo looked at his glass, hardly aware it was there. He returned to the cater unit.

"Sorry I asked for anything if it makes you stop talking. What's got you all disoriented?" It was the most accurate word he could think of. Bojo was acting like he didn't know where he was or what he was doing.

"I was thinking about WinSome."

"That's a reason to be happy," Joran agreed. They'd finished the first round of negotiations, if you could call them that, last night. It was a good thing he wasn't out to screw WinSome, because they were so dazed they were saying yes to everything.

"And," Bojo's grin was back, "I was thinking how they'd sound with Jeena as their Sound Master."

"Great fantasy," Joran agreed, sharing it for a moment. He let an imaginary track run through his mind. "Thanks for that thought."

Joran held out his hand for his drink since Bojo had forgotten he was holding it. The way he was acting Joran would have said Bojo had got some bad news about Ennup 10, except that he looked excited, not crushed.

"How would you like it to not be fantasy?"

"You mean it?! You've found Jeena?! How?"

"She's been hiding in the Farr Sector, and that guy Trebur Auta somehow got suspicious about those albums." Bojo temporarily frowned. "I'd still give a lot to know how he got suspicious." Then he shrugged. "Anyways, Jeena picked up the doctoring in a flash."

"I wondered what happened there, and you've totally avoided the topic. Are you in serious trouble?"

"Ralin is extremely upset with me for what he sees as a violation of Gingezel neutrality, but the Interplanetary Judiciary isn't going to fuss unless they show up again off Ennup 10."

That was as good as they could hope for Joran supposed and felt some tension evaporate. "And you found Jeena!" That almost made the scare worth it. Almost.

"Found her, and asked her if she'd like to come and work at AntonCorp. Since she has no contact with her old studio –"

"I wonder why," Joran observed dryly.

"I showed her the WinSome demo." Bojo finished the interrupted sentence.

"And?"

"She was as excited as we are."

"So why the delay, or is she thinking about how to ask for six times what's she's worth?"

"Kit. They can't exactly avoid each other if she's working for us."

"Why not? If they're ever at the same award banquet I'll tell the hosts to put them at opposite ends of the room."

"Well, that's one solution. Jeena is opting for another. They're trying it again."

"Hell! I thought this was supposed to be good news."

"It is. What's wrong with that?"

"Has getting espoused addled your brain? Kit and Jeena will blow sky high in two months, then what do you have? A half mastered album and she's taken off again. And in the meantime what does she say when Kit asks her what she's doing? Say 'oh, nothing'? News about exactly what WinSome is doing will get out at best, his studio will steal them at worst."

"I saw it playing out a little differently. Kit's contract is up in seven months. We hire him."

"Bojo!" Joran put his glass down with a thump. It appeared they were having one of those little talks right now. "Get this clear. AntonCorp is never degrading itself by signing an over promoted, no talent stud like Kit."

Bojo was watching Joran's face. "You really don't like Kit."

"That's right."

"Why?"

"You deaf? He's an over promoted, no talent stud."

"Jealous?"

"What?!"

"His market share is better than yours was at his age."

"All hype."

"Crap!"

"You suddenly the head of the Also Ran fan club, Bojo? Maybe when you walked, you should have kept walking and joined Kit."

Bojo let that one hang in the air for a few moments, then he said quietly, "You don't mean that, Joran."

Joran ran a hand over his face and through his hair. At last he said, "No. I don't. We have a lot of things to talk about – sorting out how to work together again. But I never thought it would start with a fight over Also Ran."

"Does it have to be a fight? And by the way, I'm only talking about Kit. He's outgrown Also Ran and that demographic."

"No way. Kit's still in kindergarten."

"Joran, you can't deny he has a voice. He can sing."

Reluctantly Joran nodded. Kit had the kind of voice that made anything sound fantastic. Unfortunately, that was what he sang, anything the studio put in front of him.

"But that isn't enough, Bojo. Everybody here has to pull their own weight. You've got your own career. You can't write all his stuff, manage him..." Joran trailed off in thought. Bojo was right. Kit did have a voice.

"Joran. You said we're on shaky ground. I agree. This next question may offend you. Did you pay attention at all to the song he released, Jeena's Gone? You were –" Bojo didn't know how to say it.

"Totally dysfunctional at the time?" Joran proposed as a phrasing. "No. I don't listen to Also Ran."

"Well, you're listening now."

Joran was starting to get curious. Bojo could be maddeningly stubborn, but he usually had a reason. He sat, listened, watched. "Run it again, Bojo." This time Joran shut his eyes. He couldn't deny it. The song was hauntingly beautiful.

Bojo didn't have to ask Joran's opinion. It was written all over his face.

"Again."

"What are you doing? Memorizing it? That usually doesn't take you three tries."

"Figuring out who the musicians are. It sure as hell isn't Also Ran. They are strictly a stage band. And it isn't Kit's usual studio musicians."

Bojo grinned. "How would you know? You said you never listen to him."

Joran threw a cushion at him. "Just replay the damn thing!" Joran sat, eyes shut again. Then he opened them. "I'd swear that Missed Chord Chuck is on bass." That wasn't his initial nickname, but after he totally muffed playing at an award ceremony it kind of took. "And I heard Red Hat Rita, Fastfoot, and," he looked at his friend, "Mrail is on keyboards."

Bojo's smile was slightly embarrassed. "I always was a sucker for romantic causes."

"Where did you all record it?"

"A little studio in the southern hemisphere of Terra."

"You get paid?"

"Surprisingly enough, yes. Now, if you're through with the questions, please focus. That is all Kit's work. He wrote the music and lyrics and handled the production."

"With just a little help from you and a few other people."

"Nice try, but dead wrong. He had a very definite vision in his head of what he wanted, and he was all over us until he got it."

"And you think he can keep doing this?"

"Yes."

"I'll think about it."

Bojo grinned. That equalled 'yes'.

*****

Chapter 56

Waking felt different this time, like he might actually wake, be able to think. Durstin cautiously opened his eyes to find the room filled with strangers. He shut them, waiting for the drug that would force him back into oblivion. He was too tired to even try anymore. Why try anymore?

"Durstin?"

The voice had a strange but familiar intonation. An Outsider.

"Are you capable of talking to me? I want to talk to you. I want you to talk to me." Trebur looked to the holo-image of the mental health specialist for approval. Even with a couple hours of coaching he was afraid of messing up, of damaging this man's delicate mental state. He got a nod of approval and just waited as he had been told to do.

Durstin only opened his eyes a slit this time, then cautiously wider, trying to decide who spoke to him.

Trebur took a step forward. "I am with the Judiciary, Durstin. I want to talk about Farolavo Power and the accident. There is an Outsider doctor watching on holoconference so I don't tire you. Your lawyer is holoconferencing too."

Durstin nodded and shut his eyes. They filled with tears of relief. It was over then at last, the nightmare.

"What do you want to know?"

***

The vibrations changed from atmospheric turbulence to the Genie's drives adjusting power for landing. Soon there would be the solid but not jarring impact of solid earth. We are safely here, Mitra repeated in her mind. We are safely here. In a few moments they would land and the webbing would release and she could step out into Gingezel sunshine. Arn, who was piloting this last shift, had said they would arrive a little after 2:00 PM Crescent Bay time to a sunny day.

Mitra tried to make herself enthusiastic about this arrival. She was off Drezvir. She would be in Crescent Bay. It didn't work. Before they left Drezvir Joran had explained apologetically that until charges were dropped they had to be on a Criminal Class Visa. Niki and Ceb too because they were with them. This meant they had to wear monitoring equipment. Mitra had tried to ignore this fact with varying degrees of success during the trip, but once they entered the atmosphere it kept running through her mind. She simply couldn't face it.

Niki had laughed at her when she'd tried to talk to him and said what difference did it make? He was wearing monitoring equipment until Ceb got hold of two of his colleagues and they agreed to meet somewhere and remove it. But that was different! He knew his would be removed. Would hers ever be, or would something go wrong and the nightmare start over again?

Dreen had asked, more sympathetic but honestly confused, why she was upset since she had more or less ignored being monitored on Drezvir. But that was totally different too. She couldn't see the room monitors there. So she could just assume everyone was being paranoid and there weren't any. This would be something she could see, and touch, and not escape, not even in her mind.

Well, she would just have to keep herself distracted, take it one step at a time, and cope. It wasn't like there was a choice. It had been easy to stay distracted on the trip. Sitting up with the pilots was incredible. That one time when they came out of the hyperspatial jump and swung around, and there was this binary star -

"Message for Dreen and Mitra!" Arn said curtly since he had no idea what the message was. The Controller had just said it was voice only and to put it on the intercom immediately. He had visions of being told to turn around and fly them all back.

She knew it! Coming to Gingezel was a total waste of time. It had all gone wrong. Mitra tried to twist in the webbing to catch Dreen's eyes for reassurance. All she could see was a stony profile as he stared down at his knees looking about the way she expected she did. Mitra shut her eyes wishing she could move her arms and plug her ears.

"Dreen, Mitra!" It was Joran and you could hear his smile. "The charges are dropped! We got word just now as you're spiraling down. We'll fill you in at the terminal, but I didn't want you to worry an extra second!"

"Dropped?" Dreen couldn't quite keep his voice steady. He was sure he'd heard wrong, but no one corrected him. Then an incredulous grin spread across his face, and he tried to catch Mitra's eyes, but they were shut and tears were trickling down her cheeks.

***

There was a small group clustered in the lounge. They had come to give Dreen and Mitra moral support and to reassure them that the charges would no doubt be dropped in time. Since the charges had not only been dropped, but had been dropped while they were standing around waiting, they were prepared to celebrate. Joran had ordered champagne as soon as he finished telling Dreen and Mitra the news. That plus festive foodstuffs had arrived about ten minutes ago and no one saw a reason to wait.

Gali and Keya were there with their daughters Gia and Tafi, and Pinky the micro cat. Neither Gali nor Keya would have thought of not being there, and the girls had known Dreen all their lives. As for Pinky the micro cat, Gali had flatly refused to give him who knew how many hours alone in the apartment to hide himself, and the girls had tearfully refused to constrain him even just to the limits of the bathroom floor. So he was in Tafi's arms.

Wayd and Trevarr were there. Wayd had said there was no need for Trevarr to disrupt his schedule when the Octagla team was entering their final stages of reconditioning, and Trevarr had said, 'Wasn't there?' Considering all Dreen had done for them, changing the site of the Gingezel Nemizcan office from the megacity to Crescent Bay so they could stay united as a couple, Wayd hadn't had an answer. So Trevarr was standing beside Wayd with a big smile on his face and a glass of grape juice in his hand.

Lastly, and looking least comfortable with the festivities was Ralin Heusgar. He had intended to meet the disembarking passengers and apologize profusely for their having to have Criminal Class processing. He hadn't been looking forward to that, in particular having to tell a member of the Interplanetary Judiciary that he was being treated as a criminal. In fact, Ralin had hardly slept last night, and he still hadn't quite come to grips with the fact he no longer had a problem.

The group might as well have not been there. Dreen walked into the lounge, his arm around Mitra, and the only person he saw was Joran.

Joran had a big grin on his face, but it disappeared as he saw how strained and exhausted Dreen and Mitra were.

Mitra stopped when Dreen did, about a meter from Joran. Dreen was just looking at him. Then after what seemed like an eternity to Mitra, Dreen gave her shoulder an apologetic squeeze, let go, and stepped forward. She watched as he put an awkward hand on each of Joran's arms.

"Thanks. For everything."

"That's the best you can do?" Joran moved in for a rib cracking hug. "Galaxy, Dreen! I really thought you'd done a number on yourself this time. Don't, don't ever scare me like that again!"

"Not to worry!"

Then they were both talking nonsense at once, neither letting go of the other. Mitra watched them, feeling touched and left out at the same time. It was Joran who stopped mid-sentence, something about Bojo, and let go of Dreen with one arm to hold the other out to her.

"Come here, Pretty Lady! I need to touch you to be sure you're real."

That brought a hint of a smile to Mitra's face. "You promise that's all?"

"Promise." Joran reached out to touch her cheek where there were tear tracks. "You all right, Pretty Lady?"

"Of course."

She wasn't. In the one-armed hug Joran could feel her trembling, and there was nothing to her. Dreen wasn't shaking, but Joran could feel tension in every muscle. "Look." He took a quick survey of the room. "You two must need a few minutes privacy to come to grips with the fact everything is all right. There's a smaller lounge just off to the side here." He was walking as he talked. "I'll play host. Take as long as you need."

Joran touched the panel and more or less shoved them into the room he had been using before Trevarr arrived with his bright smile. Joran had got nervous alone in the larger lounge imagining disasters. Well, at least he tried to shove them in. Dreen was playing the large immovable object.

"What does 'all fine' mean, Joran?" Dreen demand. He still couldn't believe the charges were dropped.

"That an unsedated Durstin Fallor had rather a lot to say. I expect Juttar can get both of you access to what Durstin said if you want. If it was me, I'd just forget all of that. Now in!"

This time Dreen went.

***

"Do you think things really are fine?" Mitra asked as soon as the door was closed.

"You really don't trust Joran, do you?"

"No," Mitra conceded. "But mostly I can't figure out how charges were just suddenly dropped, and why Joran should know it was because of what Durstin said."

"I doubt he was the one who was told. I expect the authorities in the Farr Sector called Ralin. But I assume it's for real since Ralin is here and we are not getting criminal treatment."

"Who's Ralin?" Mitra was suddenly exhausted by generating this simple series of questions. But she had to ask. Nothing made sense. She looked around the reassuringly small space. The elegant room contained two sculpted chairs with a table between them and what was obviously a cater unit. She took a step towards one of the chairs, but Dreen caught her.

"Come here." He pulled her towards him.

"Dreen." The name was a protest.

"Joran isn't the only one who needs to hold you to be sure you're real." Dreen was stroking her back, kissing her bristles of hair, reassuring himself. He would have kissed Mitra properly if she would just tip her head.

"Dreen, who is Ralin?" It was reassuring to be held, but she couldn't relax until she was convinced the nightmare was over.

Dreen gave up. She had obviously forgotten a name again. "Ralin," he said patiently, "is the Head of Security for Gingezel. He's the middle-aged blond man."

"With the thinning hair?"

"No, that's Gali Nellar. He works for me. Ralin has the crisp curly hair."

"But he isn't wearing a uniform or anything," Mitra protested.

"No, I've never seen him wear one. For that matter, I know quite a few of the security people. The only ones who wear uniforms are the guards so the tourists can identify them easily. Now what will it take for you to accept things and relax?"

"This would do for a start." Mitra tipped her head up for a kiss, a real kiss, with no worries about someone watching.

*****

Chapter 57

Joran returned to where the other two new arrivals on the Allegro were patiently waiting. His professional host smile in place and at his formal best he said, "Mr. Windegren, nice to meet you personally. Ralin will want to tell you all the details, but perhaps that can wait until Dreen and Mitra have had a few minutes to themselves? They may want to hear the news too."

"Of course." Ceb took a glass of whatever the hostess offered him and sniffed, then raised an eyebrow.

"Imported I'm afraid," Joran said. "We haven't a local champagne yet. This is Terran."

"Ah, Terran is something I have always wanted to try." Ceb took a sip. "Excellent."

Joran noticed that Niki had not taken a glass. "Would you prefer juice or a caffeinated drink, Niki? Even if I didn't know that you have to be Niki, I would have guessed. You look like Mitra."

"I do?" No one had told Niki that before.

"The smile, and the hairline." Joran was good at faces. "Now what can I get you?"

"Nothing until my stomach unknots." Right now everything had an air of total unreality to Niki, including standing talking to Anton, and Anton fussing over him.

"Then let me introduce you to the prettiest blonde on Gingezel. Unfortunately, she's married, but one can't have everything."

Keya was a natural hostess and would keep Niki content with small talk while he figured out how in the galaxy to pass the message on to Ceb Windegren that Bojo had interrupted the holiday he and Brys were taking to call about. Bojo had emphatically insisted it must be delivered immediately. Immediately so that there was zero, repeat zero, chance of his forgetting. That might have offended Joran except for the fact he was the first to admit he did forget things. The hard part was that Bojo had also insisted this information had to be passed on normally in casual conversation.

Joran looked at the cluster of people and wondered just exactly how Bojo had envisioned this casual conversation. Why couldn't he just take Ceb Windegren aside and say 'hey, that operative you and Bojo were worried about is due in three or four days, so relax.' If Bojo wanted his opinion, which he had made it very clear he did not, Bojo was making this spy stuff way too hard. He'd fuck up and have Bojo all over him.

"Keya, this is Niki, Mitra's brother. Niki this is a Keya, Gali, Gia, Tafi, and Pinky, the micro cat. Didn't you say Pinky was a male, Gia?"

Gia nodded, feeling shy with a stranger, a very handsome stranger present. Joran didn't really matter, he was sort of family like Dreen. Over the last six months she had developed an acute sensitivity to the male of the species. The fact they were starting to notice her didn't help either. Gia had fared well in her inheritance. She was showing signs of having Keya's looks, and Gali's brains. Tafi unfortunately had ended up the other way around. She would end up even plainer then Gali, and she was definitely no intellectual.

"Why the hell did you call a guy Pinky?" That had been bothering Joran.

Gia blushed and shrugged.

Tafi had no such inhibitions. "Because his nose is pink." Her tone clearly added the word 'dummy'.

"Right." Joran accepted the correction with good humor. He turned to Niki. "Ever seen one of these things before? I hadn't."

"No. Roween helped with their genetic engineering, but they haven't been approved for import to Plenata yet. I saw holograms of them at the time she was working on them and I thought they were really cute. May I hold him?" Niki asked Tafi.

"Sure." Tafi smiled. "Pinky really likes it when you turn him over and tickle his tummy."

There was something in the smile ... Niki said very politely, "Do you mind terribly if I get a second opinion on that advice?" He turned to Gali. "What are the claws on this thing like?" Most cats he'd met turned tickling into a mock fight.

"Razor-sharp skin shredders" Gali said dryly as their eyes met.

"Umhmm. I think I'll pass on the tummy tickling. Does that mean I don't get to hold Pinky?"

Niki taken care of, Joran turned his attention to Ceb. "Mr. Windegren, let me introduce you to a friend of C.C.'s. This is Trevarr Hendor. He manages our Sports Medicine Clinic. Trevarr, C.C.'s dad."

Trevarr extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you. I think C.C. said you're a runner too?"

Ceb smiled as he took the offered hand. "That must mean you're saying you're a runner. I've never got C.C. to keep me company running, not even around the block."

"I've never met him, but I think I could like C.C." Wayd said.

Joran smiled. "And this is Wayd Meeran, the Nemizcan hub manager for Gingezel, Trevarr's spouse, and definitely not a runner."

"You wouldn't possibly enjoy getting up about 5:00 AM on your holidays for a nice dawn run?" Wayd asked Ceb. "I'd love to stop feeling chronically short of sleep, even for a few days."

Ceb smiled again. "Delighted. I take it that outdoor running isn't hazardous here then?"

"Not in this area. However there are some places on Gingezel with insect problems," Trevarr said. "Just stay off the roads where the tourists are driving. They tend to be gawking at the scenery and lose focus. But that's not a problem with the network of trails, and most roads have a side path for runners. The most interesting paths are through the forest though. I'd be glad to show them to you."

"Watch out about taking him up on that offer!" Wayd said. "You have to be a cross-country hurdler to enjoy some of them!"

This was his chance to say something. Anything. Sound natural. Joran froze.

"I'm afraid I'm not," Ceb said. "I admire the cross country runners, but I'm a city man used to flat tracks and pavement."

He was missing his cue. Hell! He had never missed a cue even when totally stoned on stage. Joran mentally cursed Bojo for overdoing the well meant advice. Bojo had him choked.

"If you admire cross country runners, and you're staying around for a few days, Witieral is arriving to spend some time at the clinic," Trevarr said with a note of awe in his voice. Witieral, a galaxy class cross country runner, was a hero of his. Trevarr had been ecstatic when he had called saying he had injured himself training on Ennup 10, and had bruised ribs and a strained knee that he would like to have under control for the competitions on Pendrae next month. "That is one man I've always dreamt of meeting!"

"Indeed. It would be a pleasure to see him." Ceb kept his voice pleased, admiring, and he hoped otherwise neutral. He hoped his intense relief that Witieral was still alive and walking, if not running, didn't show. Obviously if he was going to be at the sports medicine clinic he was injured, but if he was traveling it couldn't be too bad. Most importantly somehow he had gotten his space yacht off Ennup 10. "Will you have him training anywhere I can discretely watch?"

Trevarr shook his head. "I'm afraid this next few weeks are damage control on some fall he took. He rather did a number on himself. But you're likely to see him in a restaurant or around town. Busain from Ennup 10 caught a ride with him and is taking a holiday here before the Pendrae competitions. He will want to keep in shape so he will be running daily, if you're a fan of his."

So, that was how he got off planet. Busain was the local hero on Ennup 10, and no one would stop him, or Witieral if they were traveling together. "That would be something in itself. He is another runner I admire, and I think in the next few years he will become established as galaxy class."

Bless you Trevarr and that gossiping mouth of yours. Joran could relax now. He didn't have to pass on the message. He had to admit Ceb Windegren was impressive. The man had done nothing to indicate the name meant anything to him other than as a sports celebrity.

"Joran, Witieral tends to like to compete on Ennup 10. Bojo was from there. By any chance do you and Bojo know him?" Trevarr was doing his best to keep conversation going until Mitra and Dreen reappeared.

Damn that mouth of Trevarr's! Now what did he say to get talk off Witieral's link to Ennup 10? "Casually yes, but I can't say we are friends. When he's competing our paths cross now and again, space stations aren't that big." Joran knew he was floundering and going to say something he shouldn't.

Then inspiration struck. He turned to Ceb. "The ones it seems we're always on the same route as is the Tamaran Octagla team." That should do it as a distraction.

It did. Ceb was as glad to change topics as Joran was. "Now that is a group of men I would love to be able to say I saw out of the court. In my travels I've managed to see three games live, and each was the high point of the trip."

"They're here now, since Trevarr is putting them through their preseason paces. They show up on the beach about 8:00 in the morning," Joran said.

"Are you?" Trevarr went up in Ceb's estimation. "I'll do that, but I'll keep my distance. Otherwise I'll do something gauche like start asking for autographs."

Trevarr laughed. "Don't worry about that. Except for Maras, they love it. He won't sign for anyone older than a six-year-old. Just let me get through with them first."

*****

Chapter 58

"I suppose we should go before anyone starts worrying about us."

Mitra made no attempt to move though. It was comforting just sitting here on Dreen's lap, his arms around her, her head on his chest. It actually didn't hurt. The combination of a few extra days healing plus weightlessness had done marvels for her broken tailbone. She had never taken a trip with so much of it weightless before, but Rhea explained Jon preferred it that way.

They both had fruit drinks on the table, but only a few swallows were gone. Neither of them felt like food. All they wanted was to be together and to be still, and absorb the fact that things really were fine.

"I suppose we should." Dreen made no attempt to move either. He stroked her bristly hair. "What do you want to do now anyways?"

"When we get to the hotel?" Mitra hadn't thought that far. It didn't fit with her 'I'll survive this one step at a time' mind frame.

"That wasn't what I meant. I think I mean do you want to pick up that vacation we were in the middle of?" He smiled down at the top of her head. "But you can start with the hotel."

Mitra ignored the hotel. Not wanting to spoil things already, she said cautiously, "Is that what you want? To finish up the vacation?" She didn't think she could. She was too tired, too tense. There was no way she could recapture the mood, and to try would spoil that very precious memory. She didn't want to spoil it. That memory had seen her through a lot of rough spots.

"If you do." Dreen was being equally cautious. All he wanted to do right now was take care of Mitra and see her a little less fragile, a little less taut. Then what he wanted was to reestablish comfortable old everyday routines, to start to feel back in balance. Once he felt like he was more or less in balance, he wanted to take over day-to-day charge at Nemizcan so Chett was free to focus on Dellmaice Power. Chett was stretched too thin also. Later he would enjoy a vacation, not now.

"Dreen?" Mitra twisted to look up at him. "Are we going to try to second-guess each other and end up with something neither of us wants?"

"You mean you don't want that holiday?" He couldn't hide his relief.

"No. I couldn't relax yet. I'm tired, but not holiday tired. I need everyday routine. Not a push, just routine. I know everyone says it's all over, but there will still be those things I worried about on Drezvir related to getting their new power source created and stabilized. And that geothermal design is really on my mind now." She had distracted herself with it a lot on the way back. She gave Dreen an affectionate smile. "Besides, you can't run Nemizcan in those couple hours you're up before I am. There has to be a huge amount to do now."

"You honestly never figured out what was going on?" Dreen still had trouble believing that.

"Not a clue. I wasn't curious then. But you're changing topics. Do or don't you want that holiday?"

"I'm like you." Dreen stroked her cheek. "I'll relax eventually but it will take time. I'd like to go back to routine too. But here please. I'm not budging from Crescent Bay until we get married. I'm not letting you slip through my fingers again."

Dreen meant it. He was afraid that if Mitra went off to work on Pendrae even for a week or so, one thing after another would crop up, and she would stay on and on. Someone from her past, Chett for instance, would claim her.

"That's nice." Mitra smiled, then she sighed. "I suppose we have to invite family."

"In my case, that's my mother. And yes, I want her here. Your family is up to you. Niki is here already." As far as Dreen could tell Mitra was very fond of her brother.

She made a face. "It isn't my brother I'm thinking about." Then she brightened. "My mother hates to even talk about Gingezel. She'll refuse to come. So that's fine."

"Suit yourself. Now, we really do have to go, and I can't move with you sitting on my lap." He nuzzled her hair.

"Is that supposed to encourage me to move?" Mitra laughed as she slid off his lap. "What do you want to do at the hotel? I can't sleep. I'm too overtired."

"How about a nice long bath -"

"Shared?" Mitra asked hopefully. "I assume the tub will have plenty of room for us both to stretch out."

"It's bound to since Joran designed the place. Then what about a walk down to the harbor and supper in that first restaurant we ate at?"

It sounded perfect, perfect enough that Mitra found herself thinking about later in the evening, much later, and hoping that walking with gravity didn't set her tailbone off again.

***

"Feeling better?" Joran asked solicitously as Dreen and Mitra walked up to join the group.

"Yes thanks," Dreen said. "A bit of time alone was a good idea."

"What do you want to do now? I asked Ralin and Mr. Windegren to wait for you to talk about what happened with the charges getting dropped."

Dreen could feel Mitra tense. "Thanks Joran, but I think for once in my life I'd like to be in avoidance. I'd appreciate Juttar having as full a record of what has happened as he is permitted to have. And no doubt in a few weeks I'll want to know details. But right now I want to think future, not past."

Mitra nodded, relieved. "Me too." Personally she didn't want to ever know what Mark had been up to. Not a couple weeks from now, not ever.

"Fair enough." Joran was studying Dreen though. That was as unlike Dreen as he had ever heard. Dreen was Mr. Bottom Line, tell me exactly what is going on, no matter how bad it is, and tell me now. Feeling his way cautiously he said, "Then I think we can all head into town. At least you all aren't having to go through Criminal Class Visa processing."

"That's a pity," Ceb said. "I was rather looking forward to that. There is some rather interesting gossip floating around the Judiciary about it." But it was only gossip, since they had no way to require Gingezel to let them look at it.

"We can run you through anyways, if you want," Joran said with a grin and got a totally appalled look from Ralin.

"Now, I realize I'm classifying myself as a very peculiar tourist, but that could be the highlight of this stay. I understand your equipment is state-of-the-art."

"Good enough to get this thing off me?" Niki held up his wrist. He was being philosophical about being recorded, but it would start getting tedious pretty fast, especially when he was having fun, not working with Ceb.

"No sweat," Joran said.

At the same time Ralin said firmly, "No."

They looked at each other. At last Joran said, "Ralin, do you mean you won't touch it since it's property of the Interplanetary Judiciary, or we can't get it off?"

"Both. It's not the kind of design you think, Joran."

Joran looked at the circle of faces around him. They were largely blank, except for Keya's kids who looked like they figured the grown-ups were finally talking something that wasn't boring. Largely for their benefit he said, "Sometimes we get bad guys who try to smuggle something onto Gingezel inside jewelry, claiming it's sealed and he or she can't unseal it." Joran grinned. "So we asked what happens if we try. Usually they say something horrid, like it will blow up, so we say okay, we'll put you in a safety box room, use remotes, and only you will get hurt." Joran laughed. "Usually they remember how to unseal it in a hurry."

"And if they don't?" Tafi was all eyes. She was imagining someone getting blowing up, maybe in a room just down the hall.

"I want to know too," Niki said. "So far you have almost convinced me I would sooner have the bracelet, not the help."

"If they don't remember, or truly don't know, we give them a choice. Go home, or get in the damn safety box. We get about an even split on how people jump. So far we haven't hurt anyone, just scared a couple."

Joran took Niki's wrist in his hand fingering the wrist cuff riding above Niki's own. "You tell me this one is different Ralin? How do you know?"

Even when he was refusing to come to Gingezel because it reminded him of Maillie, and later when he had been largely dysfunctional on drugs, Joran had kept on top of Gingezel security. When it came right down to it, he didn't trust Ghen Kulgalu. Now that he was on Gingezel, he had been touring the facilities and meeting the staff. He found it all fascinating.

"Joran! You can't expect me to answer that."

"No ... I suppose not." Joran was turning the bracelet around and around on Niki's wrist, playing with it. He turned to Ceb. "Will this thing hurt Niki if we fool with it?"

"No. It simply won't come off."

"Can we try? I'd love to see how good our equipment and staff is. We can put a good shoreside supper on the line - Gingezel smarts versus Interplanetary Judiciary equipment."

"Joran!" Ralin's voice was repressive.

Ceb however was both amused and intrigued that they thought themselves that good. "I'll take that bet on one condition."

"What?" Joran wasn't jumping blind.

"Put one of yours on me when I leave, and we'll see at the Judiciary if we can get it off. You should get an outside assessment of how easily your monitoring equipment is removed."

"It isn't." Joran was confident. "And if you're wrong and our equipment stays on, you get a trip back to get it removed. That's not bad for a loser. If I win, what do I get?"

"A little less Judiciary scrutiny over your easy criminal access policy," Ceb said dryly. "If it can be removed easily, you're in trouble."

"Hey, the policy is not easy! You'll know that in a couple hours. And you'll have as much trouble removing our cuff as we do with yours."

Niki was getting curious. "Can I see the process too? Not just have this cuff taken off, or remain on." He wasn't sure who he would back on the bet. Probably Ceb.

"For all of our saying it's civilized, you get manhandled pretty good including a strip search," Joran warned. "I know there wasn't a choice earlier, but I don't want you bad mouthing this place later. Mr. Windegren is a professional. He'll understand the necessity of the procedures."

"I'll survive. Do I get a pretty girl for the strip search?"

"No." Ralin had heard that question too often to be amused by it. "We do have two middle-aged matrons, and one gray haired grandmother who used to instruct in martial arts who will work with males."

"Now, the grandmother might interest me," Ceb volunteered with a smile.

This unexpected humor from Ceb brought a bark of a laugh from Ralin. "Shall we go then? Joran, are you coming?"

"Am I?" Joran asked Dreen. "I thought I'd drive you into town."

"Please escort Ceb," Dreen said sincerely. His nerves weren't up to Joran's driving just yet. "Mitra and I are planning to spend tonight alone anyways. We thought we'd relax a bit, then walk along the waterfront and have supper."

"Of course," Joran said. "That's just what the doctor ordered. So I'll be showing you around, Mr. Windegren." It was just a shade too hearty though, and the smile didn't reach Joran's eyes.

Dreen missed it as he pulled Mitra a little closer. He was too relieved not to have a scene over the driving.

Mitra didn't. Joran's hurt, she thought. He has worried and worried about Dreen and me, we're just here, and he's getting cut out. She said hastily, "Actually Joran, do you have to hold their hands for too long? The night alone was my idea because I thought we'd still be under charges and too stressed out to be good company. Since the charges are dropped, I've been rethinking it. I was hoping you could give Dreen a drink or something for an hour or so while I made myself feel feminine again. I don't know how bad I stink this time, but I'll need a lot more than a bath to feel like I'm over Drezvir."

"You do stink. Real bad!" Tafi said. "Dreen too."

"Tafi! Where are your manners?" Keya chastised her daughter. "None of us care," she assured Dreen and Mitra. "We're just glad you are safe and here."

"That's very kind of you -" Mitra hesitated. Joran seemed to assume she knew everyone from Nemizcan and Dreen had obviously forgotten the concept of introductions.

"Keya." Keya volunteered. "And this is my husband Gali. We've known Dreen since he started Nemizcan. It was just him and Gali for a while. And these are my daughters Gia and Tafi."

"Monsters masquerading as angels," Joran informed Mitra, but his smile was real again as he messed up Tafi's hair. He'd enjoy those couple hours with Dreen, and he could ask where all this avoidance was coming from. He suspected Mitra was the reason, and that right now Dreen was agreeing to anything she said. "And this is Trevarr."

"We know each other," Trevarr said. "Welcome back, Mitra."

"And this super efficient guy is Wayd. He somehow keeps all of Dreen's systems going on Gingezel."

Somehow that embarrassed Wayd. He just nodded.

"And I'm Ralin Heusgar" Ralin volunteered since Joran had ignored him. He put out a hand. "I'm glad to meet you this way, not officially."

"Sorry," Joran said. "I assumed you knew each other." He returned his focus to Mitra. "So you're going to make yourself more beautiful. How long does that take you? Maillie was usually about an hour and a half or so."

"Factor in a welcome home massage for both of them," Trevarr said. Both Dreen and Mitra still looked taut enough to snap. "I'll do Dreen first then he can join you."

"That sounds wonderful," Mitra sighed. Trevarr had amazing hands. "But are we imposing."

"Not at all. Do you want to ride back with us then? Gali has a full load. I can give Dreen his massage while Joran is here." Trevarr turned to Joran. "You can stop in at Dreen's suite and collect him when you're done".

"Sounds good."

"Thanks." Mitra looked at Niki. "So you really are going with Ceb?" Niki did crazy things some times. This was right up there. She could understand professional interest from Ceb, but otherwise?

"I wouldn't miss it," Niki said. "I may regret it, but I wouldn't miss it. And don't worry about later. Ceb and I will go out on the town. Dreen didn't exactly get a chance for a romantic-style proposal on Drezvir. It was pretty basic. He needs a chance to redo things properly."

Joran froze. Proposal? Come on, he told himself. This is exactly what you wanted from the beginning, isn't it? Weren't you the one who pushed Dreen to take Mitra on that vacation. Didn't you want him to have the chance to be as happy as you and Maillie were? Didn't you shit on him once for not proposing. He put on his best stage smile. "So you finally quit stalling did you?" he asked Dreen.

"I wasn't stalling. I just didn't think much of the atmosphere on Drezvir." Dreen smiled into Mitra's eyes. "But I did get there."

"Well, I'm happy for both of you." Joran gave Dreen a bear hug, and Mitra a chaste kiss on each cheek. Then he stepped aside to let everyone try to shake Dreen's hand and kiss Mitra all at once, and to try and ask when the wedding was.

*****

Chapter 59

A motion at the door caught Joran's eye. Jon, Arn, and Rhea stepped in and they certainly did not look festive. Jon had on his blackest scowl and Rhea looked ... the only word Joran could find was terrible. Pale, totally flat, exhausted. Even Arn didn't have his usual smile. Joran touched Dreen's arm, "Can you excuse your best man for a minute? I've got to talk to the crew."

Dreen nodded, hardly hearing him. He was totally overwhelmed by the fuss over the wedding.

The crew had stopped, not sure what to do with all the noise and confusion. Joran walked to where they were, nodded to Jon and Arn, and went to stand in front of Rhea. "Did I make a big mistake, Babe? Really blow it?"

She had been fine when they got back from delivering Dreen to Drezvir, elated even. Obviously there had been time for reaction to set in. He knew the signs. She had been like this for two months after Eli got married. Maybe he should have never used Eli to do the I.C.E run to Drezvir with the modified albums. But who else could have done it in the time he did?

Rhea shook her head. She did not want this conversation.

"You didn't blow it, I did." Jon's face was hard. "Idiot that I am, I let Rhea set out a racing run and talk me into her and Eli taking the Allegro out alone. So what happens? They get back six hours late. After timeout for fun and games at the end of the course they were both so unfocussed that ThinkThere wouldn't let them take any risky jumps and forced a baby's pace."

Rhea returned Jon's glare. "Jealous?"

"Easy Rhea," Arn's voice was soft and placating. "Jon and I were terrified there had been an accident or a system malfunction that disrupted communication when you weren't responding. That's all."

Jon was the one who ignored the warning signs. "Eli Heron is a son-of-a-bitch!" he said explosively. "I'm glad we didn't need him this run. He knows better than to get near me!"

Joran noticed Rhea didn't raise her usual objections. "Okay. I have no problems with that description. But is it something more than the run they did with the Allegro?" Actually he did have a few problems, like who the hell to use for his fourth pilot, but Jon usually cooled off.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Arn said. "There was a message waiting for Rhea just now. She won't say what's in it, but look at her."

Joran did. There were no tears, but there would be as soon as she was alone. And there would be a strong shot of the first thing her hand found in the bar fridge. And then another. Joran knew that cycle all too well. "I really did blow it."

"No." Rhea shook her head. "It was good, the best. But it was bittersweet. Galaxy, it was bittersweet!" Why the hell did Eli have to send a picture of him playing with his son just now?

Oh Rhea. You must know how much of a dead end that road is by now. Eli can never give you what you want, equivalent status to his Tribe wife. Or children. Joran knew that to marry Eli as a second wife Rhea would have to be sterilized. It was an extreme measure, but the Tribe was too heavily genetically engineered to do their deep space construction work to allow non-engineered children. But he could also understood how Rhea would not accept that after their being the love story of the decade, maybe the century. Joran found tears stinging his eyes.

Rhea saw the sympathy in Joran's face. "It's one hell of a galaxy sometimes, Joran."

"Tell me about it, Babe." Instinctively he held out his arms, then wished he hadn't since Rhea could be touchy. But she didn't reject the embrace. She came into his arms, and he folded them around her. She held on like she was trying to gain some strength from him. Sturdy, practical, vulnerable Rhea, shaking in his arms. He nuzzled her hair, her cheek, patted her like she was a big dog. He wasn't stupid enough to say it would be fine. It would never be fine.

"Why don't you stay right where you are, for as long as you want." Joran slowed down the petting and started nuzzling the lobe of her ear. His hands slowly moved down to her hips. Oh, she felt so good.

Rhea pushed him away. "I'm not a charity case, Joran!"

"I know, Babe. I am." He looked down to where everyone was talking and laughing all at once.

"So have you thought at all about where to have the wedding?" Trevarr's voice carried the length of the room.

He couldn't help it. Joran stiffened, and as he averted his head some of those tears escaped. He looked back, tipping Rhea's face up, his eyes pleading.

"Still got a bad case?" she asked.

"Bad enough to not want to go through these next few days alone, much less be the best man. We could spend a few days together, maybe a week?"

Rhea considered. Joran was not offering love or even a relationship. He was just assuming she needed what he did, someone who understood and to not wake up alone for a few days. He wasn't far wrong.

"I won't get caught in one of your downhill spirals, Joran," she warned.

"I know. That's why you'll be good for me. You won't put up with any nonsense."

"If I say yes, what will we do?"

"Do?" Joran was wide-eyed innocence. "You mean we're getting out of bed?"

"Joran!" But she was laughing.

"See, we're good for each other already. Do?" Joran chewed his lip as he stared blankly at the wall opposite, then a smile spread across his face as inspiration struck. "I've always wanted to windsurf, and the current weather is perfect. Let's con Rori into giving us lessons." Rori was Trevarr's partner Mai's husband, and he worked with one of the charter boat services. Joran's smile was suddenly devilish. "The band will have fits. It's not long until we start touring."

"Bojo will be down on you like a ton of bricks," Rhea warned.

Joran shook his head. "As soon as he could after you all cleared the Farr Sector, he and Brys took off on holiday."

"Did they?" Rhea was pleased. She still couldn't quite believe Bojo had found the right woman and sorted his problems out. She was glad though. If anyone deserved some happiness it was Bojo, and from the little she knew of Brys she liked her.

"So, we'll laugh a lot," Joran said.

"And swim in the lake when we aren't windsurfing," Rhea proposed.

"And finally find time to study the spectrum of that white dwarf," Joran added.

"And work out one hell of a run for the Allegro," Rhea grinned.

"Oh no you won't!" Jon protested.

"Shut up!" Rhea and Joran replied simultaneously.

"And have sex all night," Joran added. "For the whole week."

"Uh huh." Rhea was skeptical. "Well, we can try. And don't, don't, let me gain weight!"

"Promise," Joran said solemnly. He figured the aftermaths from Eli put Rhea on a starvation diet three or four times a year.

Joran draped an arm around her shoulders. "So, let's practice smiling and go join the party for a few minutes. After Dreen and Mitra leave I'm showing Niki and Ceb how security works. By the time I'm done with that, you should be ready to head into town too."

Arn cleared his throat. "If you'll excuse a minor reality check, just exactly what happens about the Allegro and such when this little bright idea blows sky high?"

"It won't," Rhea assured him. "Joran and I understand each other."

"I might buy that if you were both functioning adults." Jon threw his unasked for opinion in. "Joran never has been."

"Look," Rhea gave her colleagues an exasperated look, "neither of you has a claim on me, and Eli isn't here." She decided to lighten this up. "If the pair of you wanted to butt into my sex life, you had a great chance at that sex clinic when we were assessed as part of determining our responses for ThinkThere. We could have skipped the surrogates." She tried a smile. "Not that they were half bad as far as things medical went."

Arn recognized a warning off when he heard it. "Hey, there was no insult to you at the clinic. We just both got curious about the menus of choices."

Rhea laughed. "So, clear out and find out what flight crews are in town."

Jon and Arn looked at each other and shrugged. They knew when they had lost.

"Well?" Joran tipped Rhea's face up with one finger. "Is this on then?"

"It's on."

He kissed her gently. "Then let's go join the celebration."

*****

Chapter 60

The very ordinary looking door that led to the security area where visitors on Criminal Class Visas were processed was just a few meters away.

"And besides seafood, Michael's has excellent pasta. I'm not sure I have a favorite restaurant. It varies day to day, but the last three times I've eaten at the harbor, it's been at Michael's." Joran knew he was talking too much, but he was nervous.

"You're pretty sure you're going to win this bet, aren't you?" Ceb asked.

Joran shrugged. "We'll try."

Bets with the Interplanetary Judiciary! Every micron of Ralin was radiating disapproval at this bright idea of Joran's as he walked silently ahead of the three. You did not invite any Interplanetary Judiciary scrutiny that you could avoid. You did not joke with Interplanetary Judiciary members. And you definitely did not place bets with Interplanetary Judiciary members. Ralin was quite aware of who was boss, but there were times Joran had the brains of a gnat. Then again, that might be insulting gnats. On his home planet they were very effective pests. Joran was simply a pest.

Walking stolidly down the hall, Ralin was forced to admit two things. Joran meant to do this, and he meant to do it thoroughly. He didn't simply mean to walk Ceb Windegren through on a guided tour. That had been done with the occasional planetary dignitary who wanted to upgrade their security systems. Joran meant to have Niki and Ceb totally processed. Hence their baggage trailing behind with a porter. It was insane! But it was happening. Ralin had been reconciled to everyone having to be processed while charges were outstanding against Dreen and Mitra. But those charges had been dropped. So why was Joran pushing his luck?

It wasn't that Ralin didn't have confidence in Gingezel security. He did. But various opinions existed on the most effective techniques and what were acceptable techniques. Mostly though he really and truly believed when it came right down to it neither man would appreciate being processed. They might be curious, but being curious and satisfying that curiosity were not the same thing.

With resignation Ralin pressed a palm against the touch panel for the door. That was all that differentiated it from the door to any other lounge. It required biometrics to enter, and every criminal whose personal effects were stored here had their biometrics on file to get in. Ceb had been this far before, because this was where his diplomatic case was stored. Interplanetary Judiciary seal or not, nothing that could not be scanned came unopened into Gingezel, so it had been placed in a locker. That case was going to be a problem. Ralin was sure of it.

They stepped inside and Niki stood in the middle of the lounge looking around. It looked like the waiting area of any spaceport, only more luxurious. There were several styles of chairs, tables, cater units, holovision. One wall was lined with lockers. There was absolutely nothing institutional or prison-like about it. "Classy," he observed.

"Money," Joran replied economically.

"Sorry?" Niki asked, confused.

"You're looking at an area used by very affluent criminals. Smalltime crooks can't afford and don't visit Gingezel. What we get are the very rich who want somewhere to come with their family. They expect this."

"Like Ghen Kulgalu," Ceb observed dryly.

"That's right," Joran agreed neutrally.

They were in front of the lockers now. Ralin said resignedly, "I suppose you're both still serious about this?"

This time it was Ceb who said, "That's right."

"Well," Ralin squared his shoulders, "if you want to know how we treat criminals, not Interplanetary Judiciary members, let's start here. There's no way that attaché would get this far unopened, and it only did this time because of the Interplanetary Judiciary seal. So, if we're doing it right, it joins the luggage."

"Fair enough," Ceb said, stepping towards his locker.

As he extracted the attaché, Ralin asked firmly, "Am I looking at trouble there?"

Good question, Niki thought, thinking of the contents and the fact no one on Drezvir even questioned the attaché on their arrival there.

"Let's say an interesting test of the system," Ceb said, not placing the attaché with the luggage but keeping it in his hand.

Niki had a question too. "How do you keep someone from coming in here and getting something they shouldn't from a locker?"

"All action in this lounge is monitored. We know when an locker is accessed. You can't go out the door we came in, even if someone coming in holds it open. Sensors monitor the direction of motion. Try it if you want. There's an armed guard by the door there," Ralin waved towards what looked like a solid wall but in reality was a sliding door to a booth, "watching us and the corridor."

Niki thought about the contents of the suitcase and what a Gingezel guard might carry. "I'll take your word for it."

"I won't," Joran said. "That's a part of the system I haven't thought to try. Can I have that case for a second?"

Ceb hesitated, then gave it to him.

Joran walked to the door they had entered through. There were no obvious contacts, but there was bound to be away to force it in emergencies. He tried the plain old slide it with the flat of the hand approach. There wasn't much give. He pushed harder.

"Excuse me sir, that isn't an exit." The guard kept his voice very polite. He didn't have the slightest idea what Ralin and these people were up to. The grip on Joran's shoulder however was steel and his other hand held a weapon. "If you would like to rejoin your friends?" He forcibly turned an uncooperative Joran around, then looked at Ralin for guidance.

"Good response time," Ceb said approvingly.

Ralin nodded curtly at the officer. "That will do. Back to your post. Now Joran, would you please give that attaché back! Then we'll get on with this."

***

This room was definitely functional. The only furnishings were a desk with a cheerful looking young man behind it, two chairs along one wall occupied by what were obviously guards although they didn't wear uniforms, and a guard dog.

"The guard that stopped Joran had a uniform, these don't. How come?" Niki asked.

"We don't want to scare young kids traveling with their parents," Ralin explained,. Then he turned to the young man at the desk. "Athor, Mr. Windegren from Interplanetary Judiciary is going through after all. He wants full processing to see how we do it."

"Does he?" Athor rose. Standing you realized he was a bigger man than he looked sitting at the desk. His light brown hair was cropped short and his snub nose was freckled. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Windegren. And what about Mr. Kael?"

"I was hoping you could get this off me." Niki held up his wrist. "Then I told Ceb I'd keep him company."

"Well, you can't do that," Athor said. "We process everyone individually. Is this the new tourist thing? Or would you like to wait in the lounge area you just came from and have some refreshment once we deal with that cuff?"

Niki was finding the stark room, the guards in the chairs, and the guard dog that seemed to be watching his every move unsettling. Processing, as they seemed to call it, sounded a lot less amusing than it had at the arrival party. "I'm a coward. I'll wait in the lounge."

"No problem," Athor said. "It's comfortable and well furnished – everyone takes different lengths of time and families usually like to collect there and leave together." He looked at the cuff, then at Ralin, then at Mr. Windegren. "Are we allowed to take this off?"

"If you can," Ceb said.

"We have a bet on," Joran announced.

"That's nice." Unlike his superior Ralin, Athor was unperturbed. "Then we'll have to see what we can do to hold up the Gingezel end of things, won't we?" He was typing on a view-shielded screen as he spoke. "Oh, she's still here – just unlocking her vehicle as a matter of fact. So it won't be ten minutes. If you'd like to sit down gentlemen?"

The two guards obediently vacated their chairs to stand erect by the wall.

"Please take the seats," Joran said. Ralin had explained that throughout the facility there was minimal furniture to throw around, just in case someone decided to lose their temper. He tried to move to an angle where he could see the screen, but couldn't.

"Who are we waiting for?" He hoped it was the right answer coming or he was out one supper, to say nothing of going to be embarrassed. If Athor intended to use someone else ...

"Creola. If she hadn't been here, I'd have sent for her and just kept you all waiting longer. Trying to break an Interplanetary Judiciary seal isn't for just anyone."

"Creola," Ceb said. "Is that a proper name or nickname?"

"Nickname, I think. She's Terran and I gather it has ethnic significance there."

Ceb gave Joran a stern look. "That was a fixed bet if you knew she was here."

"Aren't they the best kind?" Joran asked, not at all perturbed. "Why do you think I was telling you all my favorite places to eat? And it wasn't totally fixed. When Creola heard you were coming she wanted to say hello, but when you weren't going through she might have gone home to the kids again. Daytime isn't her usual shift."

"Really?" Ceb was unimpressed. Athor just said he would have called her. Still, the games were true to form from what he knew about Joran. Ceb looked at Ralin who was mentally counting backwards from one hundred twenty seven in threes and thinking black enough thoughts that the exercise was neither calming nor distracting him.

Ceb looked back at Joran. There was a question he really wouldn't mind recording the answer to. So, perhaps now was the time to ask it, since he had no doubts Creola would get the cuffs off. After all, she had designed the originals. Of course they'd changed them significantly when she left, or more accurately chosen not to return from maternity leave, but she was very, very good. So, now was the time to ask the question. But would Joran answer?

"So, congratulations on luring Creola away from us. I'm beginning to see why you say your security is the best. I understand that as well as the actual staff," he gave a deferential nod to Ralin who was still counting and didn't notice it, "that you used some interesting consultants."

"We used consultants." Ralin came out of his reverie to answer in a tone that clearly indicated this was the end of the discussion. He tried to catch Joran's eye and make sure Joran was on board on that. He was only half successful. He caught Joran's eye, but Joran just made an exasperated face at him.

The exasperation was real. What was Ralin trying to do with this clam routine? The Interplanetary Judiciary could be all over them anytime they wanted, so why ask for it? The best way to keep them off their back was to be open and cooperative. So dammit Ralin, cooperate! That attempt at telepathy obviously didn't work, because Ralin wasn't talking.

Joran mentally sighed and said conversationally, "Not consultants. Just one consultant, Ghen Kulgalu. And we only use his advice on smuggling, specifically drugs."

"That's an interesting choice." And a rather upfront answer, Ceb thought. Well, we'll keep this conversation going as long as possible.

Joran shrugged. "He's an expert, isn't he? I mean, you haven't shut him down yet."

Ralin winced visibly.

Ceb said, "Not for lack of trying. I don't suppose you know anything to help us?"

"No." Joran shook his head. "We stay away from those sorts of topics. He got hired on a very specific contract, to establish and maintain a screening system to keep illegal drugs off Gingezel."

"Aren't you just giving him carte blanche? Or do you trust him?"

Joran gave Ceb a level look. "We aren't that stupid. Of course we don't trust him. We've got it set up so it's in his best interests that the system works."

"That's a little hard to swallow, Mr. Lantonnel."

The sudden formality was not lost on Joran. "Well, I'll run it past you, and your colleagues." Joran waved at Ceb's cuff. "I do assume you started asking me before Creola got here so that you could record my answers without making a fuss about it." He caught the gleam of amusement in Ceb's eye. C.C.'s dad was all right.

"So, here goes for the record. Ghen's old man hasn't much time left in him, four, maybe five years at most –"

"Do you know that as a fact?" Ceb asked sharply

"I haven't seen medical records." It was Joran's turn to use a dry tone. "But Ghen's pretty busted up. He loves his old man. The old guy might be conning Ghen, but I don't think Ghen is conning me – on that anyway," Joran amended. You never really knew what Ghen was up to. "Anyway, when the old man goes, he wants out."

"You're losing credibility fast," Ceb warned Joran. To his surprise, he saw real anger on Joran's face.

"Am I? You haven't been on the receiving end of one of his lectures on how stupid drugs are. He hates the stuff." Joran made an attempt to regain balance. "It's no secret I screwed up and used the stuff, so we may as well keep this candid. He was making some real interesting threats about what he'd do if I didn't clean myself out."

"Are you prepared to press any charges?"

"No, and that was a stupid question, wasn't it?" Joran took a long slow breath, then another, and tried to regain control of his temper. He said in a more reasonable tone, "Is it really impossible for Ghen to want out, to shift to his legitimates? That's plenty to keep him busy, and he hasn't a taste for the dirty work like his old man."

"His personal attitude to you may be totally unrelated to his working position," Ceb warned. "But take it as a hypothesis. He wants out. So what?"

"So, he'd like to live long enough to enjoy himself and not hide in a fortress. That means living on Gingezel. He's already bought a sizable estate and started building. So, we kept the contract extremely simple. If any illegal drugs get smuggled in, no matter how small an amount, we don't look for who's behind it. We assume it's him, and he's turfed for life. No compensation, no estate, no starting a family with his new wife, no safely holding a party to watch Ranga play pro. Goodbye dreams and we hope Zloenni or whoever settles old scores with you the minute you're off planet."

Simple, brutally effective. Joran, or someone in the consortium, wasn't all that dumb. That had taken nerve, too. "Well," Ceb said noncommittally, "I'll be interested to see what he came up with."

*****

Chapter 61

"Hello Creola." Ceb extended his hand in greeting as a visibly pregnant, dark woman closer to Niki's age than Mitra's came through the door. Then he added as she came closer, "Should you be working?"

Creola laughed. "I'm not as far along as you think. It's just twins this time." She was mid-height and normally slender which made pregnancy more obvious.

"How many will this make it?"

"Five. We'd intended to quit at four." She laughed again. "Such is life."

The good humor and relaxed attitude were new to Ceb. He had always thought of Creola as intense and competitive. "Life seems to be agreeing with you."

"Crescent Bay is a great place for families, and I'm not really working on any regular schedule. I have my lab to design security devices for the consortium. I try to keep one step ahead of anyone who is trying to figure out how to remove or duplicate them. And I come down now and again if someone comes in with a device that needs removing. I just came down today to say hello, then decided I'd catch up with you in town later rather than wait indefinitely when plans changed."

Creola shifted her focus to Niki. "And you want me to remove your cuff." She looked back at Ceb. "I have full authorization? I don't want charges laid against me."

"You're authorized. Leo and Jean are en route to release it, so they'll be making a trip for nothing, but since it's Gingezel I don't think they'll mind. And if you succeed, I'll have you remove mine as well."

"No, they shouldn't mind," Creola agreed. "Well, come along with me." She motioned to Niki and headed for a door, then stopped. "You haven't added any nasty tricks that could hurt this gentleman?"

Niki felt rather like a patient being ushered by a technician into some test that might be harmless, but was definitely going to be unpleasant. Despite Ceb's earlier reassurances, he wished he'd kept his mouth shut, and waited the three or four days for his colleagues. Well, it was a little late now.

Creola was watching his face. "Relax, even if there was, I haven't hurt anyone yet. It just makes it trickier, neutralizing any arming sequence while I muck with the 'key'. If I'm not succeeding, I quit. So far, I've only scared myself and some poor girl."

"Why poor girl?" Niki asked. "I thought anyone processed here asked for it."

"Not totally. We do families, and in this case she was stupid, or deliberately blind, going into her relationship. I honestly believe she didn't know exactly who this great new guy with all the money was until he started getting jealous and laying on the muscle. He was monitoring her because he didn't trust about half of the males she knew. The cuff had a vicious little trigger – I couldn't do a thing for it – so we sent her home. Poor thing. I told her to go straight to the police and get him to deactivate it and then get a restraining order, but I don't know if she was brave enough. Now, come along."

***

Creola returned dangling Niki's cuff from her fingers, a relieved Niki behind her. "Very nice, Ceb. My replacement is more than competent." There was just a hint of a question, a fishing expedition in that statement, but since Ceb chose to ignore it she extended her hand with the cuff. "I assume you want this."

"Thank you." Ceb took the cuff in his free hand.

"And you want yours off next?"

"Actually," Joran intervened, "can you call your sitter and stick around? Ceb wants to go through the processing, and keeping the cuff on will save him having to make a bunch of notes in a hurry at the hotel."

"So you're testing the system are you?" Creola's amusement showed. "Have fun."

"Someone who appreciates my attitude," Ceb said. "But am I keeping you, Creola? I have a good memory."

"Keeping me? I wouldn't miss this now that I'm here."

The sense of the conversation suddenly hit Ceb. "But surely you would have been called back anyways to open this?" He lifted the attaché.

"No. I strictly remove personal devices."

"But then how..." Ceb frowned.

Athor rose. "The briefcase is my problem. If I may, sir?" He held out his hand.

Ceb handed him the attaché.

"This is locked, sir. Would you please open it?"

"And my options if I don't?"

"You are free to return to your home planet. We have a comfortable private room complete with a bed where you can stay until a flight is available or your space yacht is serviced. It's furnished by one of the hotels, and the cater unit is well-stocked. But you may not enter Gingezel, communicate with anyone, or move into an unsecured area of the spaceport."

"And may I remind you that I am not a criminal but a senior member of the Interplanetary Judiciary and the case you are holding bears a Judiciary seal."

Niki had heard that tone on Drezvir and took it as his cue to leave. A scene was coming if Athor didn't cooperate, and he simply wasn't interested. This 'civilized' but prison-like environment had him thinking not about his sister and Drezvir, but his own skin. He had decided halfway through having his cuff removed that he would spend at least six hours a day while on Gingezel trying to find out who was behind the current market problems. Then he'd nail the son-of-a-bitch.

If that looked like a totally futile exercise, and it probably was, he intended to prove it couldn't have been him. And he'd start now by checking the markets in that much more civilized lounge. Then meditate on a question he'd have to ask Roween about. Could you mathematically do the equivalent of 'reverse engineering' a chaotic stochastic process, going from what the markets did back to what the input parameters – initial investment – must have been? Or was he going to have to use brute force – keep feeding inputs into his model until he got the right result? That would be tedious even when coded, especially since he had no guarantee whoever had exactly the same model he did. And with the chaotic regime there would be variability, but the strange attractors, the settle points should be similar if not identical. He'd try it if he had to. After all, that kind of brute force was what computers were for. With luck he'd prove his model couldn't have been used, that whoever was playing the market used something else.

"If I can interrupt." Niki noticed everyone started when he spoke. "I'd like to go to the lounge now and relax."

Joran took his eyes off Ceb. "Sorry Niki. You must be exhausted from stress. You can't get lost – it's the only door that will open to you on this corridor, and I'll stick my head in in a minute."

"Thanks." He left.

Ceb waited until the door closed behind Niki, then turned back to Athor. "As I was saying young man, you have no authorization to tamper with Judiciary property."

"No, sir," Athor agreed, adding an additional deference to the 'sir'. "And I won't. What I do have is full control over who comes into Gingezel when processing them on a Criminal Class Visa. When you chose that processing, you became subject to those rules. And," Athor met his eyes calmly, "one of the rules is that all, I repeat all, personal effects are to be examined."

"I would like to speak to your superior."

Athor's eyes flicked towards Ralin, Ceb's towards Joran.

"I've tried out the overnight room for the hell of it," Joran said. "It's not bad but really boring because there is no hyperweb and no calls are allowed. Just watching holovision and staring at the incoming flights." He avoided the impulse to lick his lips like he did when he was nervous. He didn't know if this was a test, or if Ceb was really upset. It didn't matter. Rules were rules. Juttar had shoved that forcibly down his throat about Dreen and Mitra. "You'd be a lot happier having supper with Niki and me, but it's up to you."

Ceb waited a long moment to see if anyone gave in, then unlocked the case.

"Mmm. That lock is new, isn't it?" Creola asked from her chair. "Can I get a good look?"

"Not right now," Athor said in a tight voice, looking at the arsenal in the case. "We have just a little problem here."

The guards moved closer as Ralin gave a sigh of admiration. "Beautiful."

Joran had never heard that tone in Ralin's voice. He stepped forward to join the cluster staring at the suitcase, and his stomach lurched. He said in a strained voice, "Then Mitra and Dreen were in real danger on Drezvir."

"They could have been," Ceb said noncommittally. "I wanted to cover that option."

"I don't know a damn thing about weapons," Joran said, "but it looks like you were covering a lot of options." He looked at Ceb. "I take it from Ralin these are exceptional." He assumed to these guys weapons were like musical instruments were to a musician. "So this time I really am sorry, but they're going." This was said firmly before anyone drooling over the case, especially Ralin, could change their minds on 'rules were rules'. Weapons were not allowed on Gingezel and that was that. To Joran's surprise, Ralin spoke.

"I rather think Mr. Windegren has been anticipating the weapons' destruction."

Joran stared. "You knew what was in the case?"

Ralin shrugged. "I knew what would be in the case if I'd been the one going to Drezvir."

Ceb gave an appreciative nod. "Mr. Heusgar is right I'm afraid. This has been a bit of a test." He looked at the weapons. "Pity, but they are replaceable. What I want to be assured of now is they can't go astray before they're destroyed."

Ralin permitted himself to smile. "They travel about six meters down that corridor." He nodded at a door. "Everything is monitored as is the actual destruction, and a spectrographic record is taken and compared to that expected for the weapon put in. Three reliable employees are present at all stages. It would take a lot of bribery and computer smarts for anything to go astray."

***

"I do expect I've kept you too long, Niki. But that was fascinating. Absolutely fascinating." The case Ceb was carrying only had his and Niki's cuffs and some memory pacs.

"I'll take your word for it." Niki rose, trying to get a festive mood back. There had been trouble on two commodity exchanges while he was out of touch.

"Tired?" Creola asked sympathetically. "Wasn't it your sister in trouble? Well, keep telling yourself she's safe, and see if you can sleep. I offered a ride into town to Ceb, and he accepted. There's room for you too."

"Thanks."

*****

Chapter 62

It was almost like their first evening out, but not quite. It was hotter, almost intolerably so after Drezvir. The air wasn't exactly sticky, but there was a sultry touch to it as Dreen and Mitra sat on the terrace of a harbor-side restaurant sipping drinks and watching storm clouds building on the horizon.

"Do you think it will hold off until we're through eating?" Mitra asked.

She was wearing the same blue green spaghetti strap dress she'd worn for that first date, the same turquoise earrings, and her precious shawl, Dreen's first gift to her. They had all been in her bags on Drezvir and the valet service had done a rush clean and press job on them. Trevarr's massage had done wonders, and there had been a long long soak in a scented bath while Dreen was with Joran. Then a facial, then almost a half hour with cosmetics, wonderful cosmetics. Her hair was too short though, almost nonexistent, and Mitra knew she was too thin.

"It doesn't matter. We can eat inside. They have plenty of inside seating."

Dreen was in a comfortably worn out pair of tan summer pants and a brand-new short-sleeved shirt in a soft beige color. The pants, along with all the other things he'd left behind and hardly thought of, had been waiting in Joran's apartment. The new shirt was a concession to the fact this was an important night. So was the jeweler's box in his belt pouch. He checked the time-strip on his wrist cuff.

"It's almost time for our supper reservation. Are you ready to go?" Yes, the restaurant would be the perfect romantic spot.

***

This time the handwritten menu listed barbecued chicken, mushroom and bacon pasta, and two entire meal salads. The fountain still splashed down the wall of the walkway, but the flowers in the pots had been changed to vivid oranges and yellows and reds heralding the end of summer.

"Dreen, how good to have you back. Are you here for a long stay again?" asked the redheaded hostess. Like everyone who knew Dreen in Crescent Bay, she had followed his troubles on holovision, but it would be tactless to mention them.

"A couple weeks at least, maybe a month. I haven't had a chance yet to find out how long it takes to arrange a wedding here." Now that there was a wedding actually coming up, Dreen found himself telling everyone, whether or not it was any of their business.

"A wedding!" The hostess beamed. "Congratulations." She suddenly smiled an impish smile. "There's going to be a problem though. I'd love to have the wedding supper here. It would be so romantic – I can just see it. But of course Joran will want to host it at his hotel."

She was still embarrassed by how many times she'd gone to see the steel band and never realized who Joran was.

Mitra looked around the courtyard with its vine covered walls, little tables, and splashing fountain. The lady was right. It would be very romantic, just her and Dreen, Joran and Rhea, Lilla and C.C., Dreen's mother for his family, Niki for hers. They could all sit at that big table in the corner. That was a perfect wedding, tiny with no fuss. "Do you think we could have it here?" she asked Dreen. "I'd like that if Joran wouldn't mind."

Mitra was still treading cautiously where Joran was concerned. Like Maillie she was smart enough to realize Dreen and Joran came as a package, and it would take time to adjust that package to include her. She was willing to be tolerant – as long as Joran left her alone! She was not getting into some weird triangle. But that wouldn't happen. Joran had been very pleased they were getting married, so he must be over his silly idea that he fancied her. And his fancies must change almost daily. Today's fancy was Rhea.

"Joran's a romantic. He'd love this setting," Dreen assured her.

"Well, just let us know when you set the date and my husband will cook something wonderful," the hostess assured them. "Now, tonight do you want to be by the fountain, or at a quiet corner table?"

***

They were seated at a corner table, working on their pasta. Mitra had surprised him by ordering and eating a huge salad first since she had avoided them on their earlier stay on Gingezel. They were both craving fresh food. The hydroponics on Drezvir still hadn't been producing enough greens and sprouts to feed the population more than tiny portions when they left.

Now that Dreen had the engagement ring in his belt pouch, he didn't know when or how to give it to Mitra. He'd meant to give it to her at the terrace cafe, but the place had been crowded and noisy, and he wanted somewhere romantic. He had told himself the restaurant would be perfect. It was too. The light was soft and golden, the tables occupied by couples like themselves, looking for a quiet romantic evening. Dreen had found one excuse after another to stall though. They'd had to choose their meals. The chef had come to tell him how the kids' soccer team he'd helped with was doing in the standings. They were hungry and needed to concentrate on eating.

He was using any excuse he could think of to delay the moment, because he was afraid that when it came right down to committing herself, Mitra would change her mind. She had said yes on Drezvir, but that situation was unreal, so full of stress. To him, tonight and accepting the ring was the commitment. Dreen knew he was being ridiculous since they'd talked about getting married between themselves here and to lots of other people. That counted. Mitra had even said a wedding supper here would be nice. All the same, he was nervous. Dreen toyed with some pasta. Maybe later at the hotel in their suite would be better.

Mitra took a break from stuffing herself on her first really good, all fresh ingredient meal since she'd gone back to Drezvir. Dreen was way behind her. He'd hardly eaten a third of his meal and was just playing with the little pasta bows. That had to mean he was worried, because she didn't think he was sick. Tired yes, but not sick. No one had changed their mind about the dropped charges on Drezvir, or they would be back at the spaceport being 'processed', not here. And she knew he was really looking forward to getting back to work. He might, she supposed, be a bit nervous about telling Chett he wasn't running things anymore, but Mitra couldn't see why. Chett had known it was just an interim thing. Besides, Dreen was good at compartmentalizing work and his private life. Better than she was, that was for sure.

A very unsettling thought entered Mitra's mind. Maybe now that they were here, and life was returning to normal, he didn't want to get married. He'd been trying the idea on since they arrived in town, talking wedding to everyone. Maybe it didn't fit. After all, Dreen had been a bachelor for a long time. But did it matter as long as they were together and happy? Mitra thought she wanted to be happily married, but she'd settle for the happily part. She slid her foot out of her sandal and ran it cautiously up his leg. Her tailbone seemed to be handling it.

Startled out of his reverie, Dreen looked up relieved to see she was smiling.

"Dreen, if it's giving you nerves, we really don't have to get married. Being happy together is all that really counts, isn't it?"

"What brought that up?"

"You aren't eating."

"Oh." Dreen looked at his plate in mild surprise. "I guess I've been thinking." He smiled and reached into his pocket. She definitely wasn't looking or acting like a woman who wanted out. "I was trying to decide when to give you this." He handed across the jeweler's box. The ring wasn't the traditional diamond. It was a blue-green stone unique to Gingezel. The ring also probably wouldn't fit. The jeweler had attached some snap-on thing to make it littler and assured him that sizing it down was no problem.

"Oh." It was a sigh of pleasure. Mitra took the box in her hand. She was very sure this was the kind of small package that held lovely things.

"You're supposed to open it."

"I'm anticipating." She ran her foot up his calf again.

"Don't overdo it until I'm nervous again."

"Spoil sport." Mitra opened the box. "Dreen, it's beautiful." She held the ring against her dress, testing the color. "Perfect. But I want you to put it on me." She carefully put the ring back in the box and gave it to him, and held her hand out.

"So, do you still want to marry me?"

"Can you doubt it?"

He didn't intend to answer that one. Dreen slid the ring on, gave her hand a slow caress, then asked, "What do you want to do when we're finished?" The restaurant suddenly seemed very full of people, and the sidewalks would be worse.

Mitra smiled, guessing his thought. "We could always go for a walk in the forest." They had done that on their first date. It would be romantic and should suit her very private man. Her smile warmed as she remembered their first walk there and the exploring they'd done that had absolutely nothing to do with scenery.

Dreen was smiling back remembering the same thing. "Yes, we could."

This agreement was met by an ominous roll of thunder. The hostess hurried past, a worried look on her face. "You might have time to finish your plates out here, but dessert will have to be inside." She continued without stopping, intent on moving the diners at the more exposed tables inside as quickly as she could.

"Or," Dreen suggested, "we could just have dessert later at the hotel."

Mitra slid her foot up his calf again. "Later," she agreed. "Much later."

*****

Chapter 63

"You don't know how good it is to see the pair of you safe!" Chett still couldn't quite believe he was looking at a suite in Joran's hotel at Crescent Bay, although he'd got the message of their safe arrival the day before from both Wayd and Joran. He took another survey of the stylish turquoise and white decor. This definitely was not Drezvir.

"Chett," Dreen began, "I don't know how to start to thank you –"

"Then don't. You'll just embarrass both of us. Instead, how about giving me a fast answer to a question. I'm still fighting deadlines while you two rest and recover."

"Sure." Normality was wonderful.

"What are you going to do with the next stage of your life? Head over to Dellmaice Power and run it so you can be with Mitra, or come back here and take over again?"

"That's a fast question?" Mitra asked, astounded.

"Yup," Chett told her with a grin. "You just don't seem to get used to our working style."

It was something Dreen had carefully avoided talking to Mitra about in any great detail, although in his own mind he wanted to get back to Nemizcan and was sure he'd be lousy at running an energy company. Still, Chett had brought up an aspect he hadn't thought of too hard. It might be leaving Mitra stranded and feeling vulnerable. For sure, it would give them an inter-planet commuting marriage and he didn't want to stress her now. Also, he wasn't sure it had got through to her with any sense of reality that Ari Dellmaice was history and Dellmaice Power was now the joint property of Nemizcan and AntonCorp.

But suddenly, looking at Chett in his – he now considered it his, not Chett's office – he knew without any doubts or reservations. "I'm coming back." He turned to Mitra, stroking her cheek. "Unless you mind that is. I'm not a power systems engineer – I'd be useless there." That was a minor lie perhaps. He wouldn't be exactly useless, but he would be only an administrator with no R&D to keep himself happy with.

Mitra gave him a tender smile Chett wished he hadn't seen. "Of course you're staying with your computers. They're your life."

"Well, that's settled," Chett said briskly. "And it's pretty well what I expected. And, that means it's off to Dellmaice Power for me for the next month or so to stabilize things. We can start by seeing if Dellmaice and I can be in the same room without going at each other's throats." Rather to his surprise, Mitra was frowning at the shot at Ari, so Chett shifted ground slightly. "Not, Dreen, that I'd have minded the other way. With everything going wrong at once this job wasn't as boring as I thought it would be."

"Uh huh." Chett was working up to telling him something, and he couldn't guess what. "Are you telling me desk work appeals now, and I'm in the market for a new VP of Field Operations?"

"Not exactly." Chett stretched his legs and leaned back. "You've had a new VP of Field Ops since yesterday. I asked my interim replacement to take the position permanently as soon as the charges against you were dropped, and the answer was yes."

Chett wasn't only working up to something, he was nervous about it. Dreen could think of two things. He started with the easy one. "That's your prerogative, isn't it? As long as you are running Nemizcan you call one hundred percent of the shots, and it stays that way while I have my R and R."

Chett nodded at that, but he stayed sprawled. So Dreen kept going. "What about you? Are you wanting to permanently run Dellmaice Power? I'd miss you, but you'd be one hell of a lot better at it than I would."

Chett relaxed. Dreen might be exhausted, but he wasn't slow. "I'm seriously tempted by it, and a couple other things too. The main question at Dellmaice Power would be if I could adapt to their culture because it's way too big a place with too much inertia for it to adapt to me." He straightened up a bit. "And I was hoping to talk to Mitra about that, plus a list Ari gave me of who he considered key staff. It may be valid, or," Chett grinned, "it may be somewhere between mischief making and outright sabotage. Right now he hates my guts."

"Of course." Mitra was not enthusiastic. She was exhausted, and she had very mixed feelings about the changes at Dellmaice Power that she didn't want to sort out.

"Stick around if you want, Dreen," Chett said, "but if you aren't vitally interested Gali wants to talk to you. We've had a very cryptic communication from someone who claims to both be our hacker and to have a job offer. Does that mean anything to you?"

Dreen's face brightened. So Leeth hadn't needed that long to think after all. And, even more amusing, Chett was obviously lost. "Want to make one of those bets you make with Lindy that you won't get this one even with hints?"

"Forget it, I'd lose. Who are we talking about?"

"Leeth Kembel."

Chett mentally kicked himself for stupidity. Aloud he said, "The guy you put away. I've been so busy thinking of him as the number one candidate for the Drezvir accident I never once thought of him hacking the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb."

"My mistake too," Dreen said. He was about to commiserate with Chett on their mutual stupidity when Mitra rounded on him.

"Dreen! How could you and Chett say things like that about Leeth when there's never been a shred of evidence against him, only your imaginations?" The poor man. She felt sorry for him every time she thought of someone obviously that talented thinking he was lucky doing dirty manual work for C.C. And if Dreen had started rumors –

Dreen's jaw tightened. "I have never said a thing about my suspicions to anyone but you, and don't worry, you've made me thoroughly regret that. I even defended him to Ceb." Mitra was being totally unfair, not even giving him the benefit of the doubt. Hadn't she just heard that Leeth told Chett he'd offered the guy a job? How much fairer did she want?

"Sure, then how come Chett –"

Mitra hadn't really heard the part about the job. She wasn't exactly focusing. The phrase 'number one suspect' got through because it was old territory, but the rest simply wasn't processing. She was still disoriented, not quite sure things were fine and that she was here. And while last night's lovemaking had been wonderful, a confirmation of the future and a release from all the stresses, her sleep hadn't been. A series of thunderstorms had kept her awake. At the time she'd been happy to just relax, curled up to Dreen, but now, come morning, she was tired and quite prepared to shift from simply tired to tired and cross.

"Hold it!" It was obvious that for some reason Mitra had appointed herself Leeth Kembel's champion and Dreen didn't like it.

The voice was loud enough both Dreen and Mitra jumped, and turned startled focus to Chett. He ignored Dreen and caught Mitra's eyes. "How about giving both Dreen and me some kind of credit? You know damned well that Dreen isn't a liar. If he says he only talked to you, he only talked to you."

"But, you called Leeth –"

"The number one suspect. That," Chett said flatly, "is because he was. Now, the credit I'd like is for some kind of intelligence. I've spent the major part of the last month trying to save –" he turned to Dreen for a moment, "excuse me Dreen –" he turned back to Mitra, "your pretty little butt."

"No problem." Dreen was listening to this exchange with what had started with alarm and was rapidly becoming amusement. He'd never heard Chett use a tone remotely like this with Mitra. It was coming perilously close to a verbal slap in the face.

"And," Chett continued as Mitra opened her mouth, "don't bother to tell me you didn't ask for, and didn't need, help, because you damned well did and you know it. So I've been looking at every last supplier you had, and everyone on Drezvir to see who might have had it in for the project." I did a lousy job, he admitted to himself. He'd never caught the Mark Laratte/Durstin Fallor link. Now that he had the link he had researched them together and he knew they'd been undergrads at the same university. But when thinking about who could cause the accident, even though he'd heard a lot more intimate details of Mitra and Mark's fiasco than he'd wanted to that night they'd walked and walked outside on Drezvir in Sinnia's moonlight, the man had never had a name. However he didn't want to mention Mark now.

Chett held Mitra's eyes. "When you do that looking Leeth Kembel is the man whose stands out. So how about a couple apologies?"

Dreen swung back to alarm. Every now and again Chett took offense at something and came down on the person like a ton of bricks, but this was not the time to pull that stunt. They were all tired and everyone's nerves were raw. He waited for the explosion, but it never came. Mitra opened her mouth, looked at Chett, flushed, and shut it again.

"Well?" Chett wasn't sure why, but he wasn't giving a millimeter on this one. Maybe it was that she was backing this Leeth Kembel before she even said thank you. And if this Kembel hadn't done the Drezvir job, he was still no saint. He was pushing for charges of criminal mischief at the least for his hacking of the Gingezel hyperweb.

No. Chett had a sudden flash of insight. He was pushing Mitra to get her to blow up and tell him to go to hell. He needed that, that evidence there was nothing left. No holds on each other, no caring, just the indifference and/or open hostility a stranger would get if they stepped as far out of line as he was right now.

Chett, Mitra thought, could be a real pain when he worked at it, but he was also right, damn him. She looked at the fine, taut face just daring her to open her mouth. There were lines there she would swear she'd never seen before, and despite his sprawl, he looked like every muscle in his body was taut. He's as exhausted as we are, she realized. Maybe worse. While we've had the trip back to just sleep, Chett's kept going. And while we take a break here, he'll keep going then too. She looked at the dark smudges at the corners of his eyes and wondered if he was even sleeping.

"I'm truly sorry Chett." She wished she was there or he was here, and she could give him a big hug and tell him what a great job he'd done, and how grateful she was. "I didn't mean for things to go off track. What I meant to do was tell you how marvelous you've been, and that I'm sorry we'll have to wait a bit so I can give you a big hug and a kiss to thank you properly."

That, Dreen thought with a mixture of pride and admiration was very prettily done. Chett, he realized, was actually blushing, a soft pink under that pale skin of his. He couldn't remember seeing Chett blush before.

"That's all right, Mitra," Chett said softly. "The apology and thanks are accepted. We're all tired, that's all." Then, in that same soft voice when she didn't do anything, "Don't you have one more apology to make? The one that matters."

Oh Chett. To Mitra's surprise tears were stinging and she looked down for a minute. Then she turned to Dreen. "Chett's right. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

They must all really be exhausted Dreen decided. She looked all teary like she really felt bad about snapping at him. He touched her cheek again. "I make allowances." Then in an effort to get things back to normal, he smiled. "I vaguely remember snapping back, too."

Mitra smiled at that understatement. "Well, I make allowances too."

"Now," Chett said firmly before things reached a point he couldn't handle, "before we all get maudlin, I did not call just to stop you from unpacking and settling in." He focused on Dreen. "It's just that if I'm going to be on Pendrae to handle the transfer of Dellmaice Power personally, not holographically, I have to be on the Exec. It's prepped and ready at the spaceport." His eyes were stony. "And I intend to be there, and watch, and have that son-of-a-bitch Dellmaice have to personally deliver those documents to me. And then I intend to escort him off the property."

Dreen was in total accord. "I'm sorry I can't keep you company Chett but –" He shrugged.

There was no time to try to catch up with Chett, even if there wasn't the wedding coming up. He literally had not considered that option, because he'd been sure he and Mitra were confined to Gingezel indefinitely while the slow moving Farrese Judiciary decided if they really were through with them. Totally dropping charges, just like that, was atypical. Durstin Fallor must have had a lot to say. He would have to call Juttar in the near future and find out the details.

Mitra shook her head, but kept her mouth shut. This particular bit of male vindictiveness was beyond her. She had initially been furious with Ari for his saving his own ass first policy, but once she calmed down, she had to some extent just accepted it as part of the package that was Ari. Wanting to destroy him for it was simply not in her nature, but it obviously was in Chett's, and Dreen's.

Chett grinned. "Come on, Gingezel is one hell of a step up from Drezvir. So now that there is no pressure, take a vacation and don't fret. But I do need Mitra's time now. Are you staying or going to see Gali?" He asked it as a question, but it was rhetorical.

Dreen looked guilty. Chett had done so much, and now he was taking on Dellmaice Power as well. "Gali," he said. He'd been wanting to walk down the road to the Nemizcan Computing office for almost a half hour now, but Mitra had said she wanted to come too and meet everyone, so he'd been waiting on her while she did her makeup.

"Good. You can answer questions about Kembel. I can't. If I don't talk to you before then, for sure I'll call after my session with Dellmaice."

Dreen nodded and left, before his conscience became too much of a nuisance.

*****

Chapter 64

"Well?" Chett demanded, looking pleased with himself.

"Well what?"

"Did I do a good job of getting rid of an unwanted spouse?"

"And why is Dreen unwanted?" Mitra asked warily.

"Because," Chett's voice was light, "you and I have to have a little heart-to-heart talk about whether or not we could spend the next five or six years working together."

"We do work together – what else have we been doing for years?"

Chett shook his head. "Not all day, every day, with Dreen on another planet. I know you've made your choice and you won't have a problem. What I have to decide is if I will."

"Chett." Mitra was trying to be gentle. "What you're talking about –"

"Is ancient history. And things don't always turn out the way you want. I know. Joran and I had an interesting little talk about that topic."

"You what! Chett – how could you!" Mitra was somewhere between appalled and furious.

Chett was unmoved. He'd thought this one out. Normally he would never have mentioned that sort of a conversation to the lady discussed. For that matter, he did not make a habit of discussing the women in his life in a way they could be identified. But given what Joran was, erratic at best, and who he was, Dreen's best friend, he had decided it would not be a good idea for Mitra to be ignorant. And, no matter how it came out, she'd be furious and rightly so. It was probably best if she was furious with him, not Joran. So he simply said, "That's twice today you haven't given me much credit for brains. Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to voluntarily discuss something like that with Dreen's best friend? But I can't always completely guard my expression and Joran is fast on the uptake."

He had decided to leave Lindy out of the explanation since it amounted to the same thing either way, and he was not laying odds on Mitra and Dreen's VP of R&D even vaguely getting on. Glacial was the most optimistic scenario he could come up with, with a very confused Dreen in the middle of it. He didn't want to make it worse by trying to explain it was Lindy who had guessed, and it was Lindy's face Joran read.

"Our relationship came up at a point when there was no choice. Joran and I had to work together, and that difficult process would not have been helped by my trying to fly an obvious lie. So I didn't. What I did eventually get through to him was that it was just what I said now, ancient history, and that it wasn't your fault I had trouble letting go." He hesitated then added, "I should warn you. Joran is very territorial and possessive where you are concerned."

Mitra sighed. Joran. Well, at least he'd more or less behaved himself at the spaceport. She said earnestly, "Chett, I have never done a thing to encourage that man!"

"Surprisingly enough, I believe you. And if you've managed to fly that one by Dreen, he and I are probably about the only ones in the galaxy who believe it after the way he sang M's song at the concert."

Mitra winced. Chett was right there. C.C. and Niki sure didn't believe her. She shook her head. "I don't know what I'm going to do about Joran."

"Do you want some free advice?"

"No." That remark always preceded something you didn't want to hear.

Chett grinned, reading her mind. "You get it anyways. Do absolutely nothing. No matter how much he cares for you, Mitra, he's Dreen's best friend and in Joran's head that will always come first. You'll just have to live with him." He hoped she was listening. He'd heard how Larna had come to grief on that score, and she was very docile compared to Mitra.

"And take that more literally than you meant, Chett." She sounded martyred. "Did you know Dreen says he shows up every time something goes wrong, or he just gets fed up with life! Just moves in until he feels like leaving." A half smile played on her lips. "From what I'm learning about Joran, that must integrate out to his being there half the time. And," the martyred look again and an exaggerated sigh, "he will no doubt have to practice. Knowing Joran, that will be whenever the mood hits him, including," there was the half smile again, "the middle of the night. I've told Dreen the first thing we do when we get back on Tranus is totally soundproof whichever is Joran's favorite bedroom."

Chett had been watching that smile come and go. "You like him."

Mitra considered this. At last she said, "Yes, I think I do. He is very much in my bad graces for that concert stunt where he sang M's song, and no doubt he'll drive me crazy, but I like him."

"Well, you'll probably survive then as long as Joran never figures it out."

Mitra stared. That was ridiculous. She was going to marry Dreen, and Chett was jealous of Joran? She said tartly, "He's Dreen's best friend, remember?"

"Yes."

There was something in Chett's voice that had Mitra feeling like she'd missed a step or two. She waited, but Chett seemed to think he had explained himself. So she had to say, "I'm not following you."

"Don't you ever visit the celebrity gossip sites?"

"Sometimes," Mitra admitted. "But I've never cared about the Anton crowd."

"Well, check them out sometime. You'll learn that if Dreen is Joran's best friend, Johnny Sun is his second best."

Mitra nodded.

"Well, Joran's wife Maillie was Johnny's spouse, although they weren't married yet when Joran came back from touring and went after her." He'd looked up this history after that version of M's song Joran and Johnny sang together at the concert, learned essentially nothing at the gossip sites and had asked Bojo for the full story. "So, consider yourself warned, that's all."

"Thanks." She thought about it and shrugged. "If he's a real pain sometime when I'm on Tranus I can always invent some work crisis that takes me back to Pendrae early.

Which, Chett thought, takes us full circle to Pendrae. Well, at least he had made up his mind. He would be absolutely insane to go to Dellmaice Power permanently. The last five minutes had convinced him of that. Mitra would be exactly what she was. Candid, impulsive, talking to him about any and everything, assuming he was only her friend. He couldn't handle it.

"Speaking of Pendrae, are you up to going over those names? Essentially I just want an opinion on competence and personality – team player, loner, whatever. I can fill in the details when I get there. The most important would be who could work with you to keep a strong R&D program going. Ari's role will have to be split I think, and you are the one Dreen and I know and trust on the R&D side." He did not ask her what kind of a role she wanted in R&D – to run it or be on a team running it. He knew for sure she was like Dreen, she had the flow ideas that would keep the products competitive. He also knew for sure she'd need someone even more competent than Lindy to keep her organized if she wanted to be at the top. But she might not want to be. That might be a level of responsibility she wouldn't touch. She might want Gali's role, the number two person, leaving her much freer to focus on her creative ideas. It was too soon to ask her. Drezvir had shaken her confidence and she would underestimate herself. He'd ask that question in two or three months.

Mitra nodded.

"But would you also look for anyone who is a candidate for the top on the admin side? If Ari was a 'keep the competition out' type, we can approach headhunters, but someone who knows the ropes would be best." He met her questioning stare. "That's right. I've decided not to go that route."

"Because of me," Mitra said bitterly.

"No. Because of me. You'd be fine. You'd be sweet, fun to work with, in fact great. And every day I'd go to work scared. Scared that someday everything would go wrong, and you'd turn to me. For sympathy, that's all. Or, worse still, you'd come back from Tranus just furious with Dreen, and be looking for a shoulder to cry on. And I'd be there. And I'd offer that shoulder and the sympathy, but that wouldn't be it. I'd push things for all they were worth. So one of two things would happen. We'd make a lie out of everything I've worked to do to keep you and Dreen together, or, more likely, you'd have to tell your boss to get his damn hands off you and keep them off." He shrugged. "Believe me, it isn't worth it. Let's keep ancient history ancient history." Chett tried to lighten it up. "Besides, I was a nonstarter anyway in that race."

It didn't work. He was too tired and some of the pain showed through. To his absolute horror Mitra's eyes filled with tears.

"Oh Chett, don't talk about yourself like that." He was such a sweet man. "Our timing was lousy, that's all. I wasn't looking for a relationship when I met you."

Mitra, please, shut up! I don't need this. It's bad enough thinking I never had a chance, that it was all in my head. Chett kept his mouth shut though.

"Who knows if it had been different. Maybe I wouldn't have been looking when I met Dreen." Looking at his face, she added hastily, "I was though, and that's that. But you're very special Chett, and I'm sure –"

"Mitra, so help me, if you are about to try some variation on someday I'll meet a woman who will really appreciate me, I'll never speak to you again." He meant it.

"All right, I won't." There was a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "But you will. And ..." She couldn't resist. Chett was so easy to tease when he tensed up like this. "I'll bet you that you weren't in Dreen's apartment for two weeks before you'd moved someone in with you." The look on his face! Mitra couldn't help it, she burst out laughing.

Chett kept her company. It was easiest that way, to help Mitra relax because they would have to work together for months. He would miss Loana while he was on Pendrae. His relationship with her wasn't the same as Mitra, but she was sweet.

"So take one of them seriously sometime!"

*****

Chapter 65

"Well, I can see why Dreen thinks you're useful." Gali used his driest voice. He wasn't sure he approved of Dreen's enthusiasm for this tough weatherbeaten man. "You really did a number on our system this time, and we may need you to undo your dirty work."

Leeth stared, appalled. "Dirty work? You mean someone really damaged the system?" It was a work of art, a work of art he had a chance to be part of.

Gali stared back. "It wasn't you?"

"No." Leeth shook his head violently. "I haven't touched the system since I talked to Dreen about a job. And I told him then, and I'm telling you now, I was a nuisance but I never really wiped the system out. I knew how to, but I didn't."

They stared at each other. It was Gali who broke the silence.

"Then we do have a second hacker. A vicious one."

"The second hacker ..." Dreen nodded slowly. This was what Leeth had said earlier on Drezvir. He had wanted to believe him then, but had been uncertain. He believed him now. Leeth would not harm his chances at this job.

"We've been wondering," Gali said. "There seemed to be two styles of attacks evolving. We have all been getting convinced there were two people." A brief smile touched his lips. "Brys will love having been proven right, she was the most certain."

"Brys isn't here?" Dreen frowned. Had someone mentioned Brys yesterday? A blur, and not the first one today. His frown deepened. These memory gaps bothered him. He knew more than intellectually that a traumatic incident could do that. Galaxy knew his memories of that first arrest for hacking were a mix of crystal clarity and impenetrable fog. But these new gaps bothered him.

"As soon as you were clear of the Farr Sector, she and Bojo took off on holiday. I understand it's sort of a honeymoon." Gali shrugged. "She gave Keya a long explanation of the marriage practices on Ennup 10 that didn't survive translation. So I tackled Bojo. He says they are legally espoused but Brys won't consider it real until there is a civil ceremony on Ennup 10."

Dreen nodded. He more or less remembered Joran saying that. All the same, he was disappointed. He had really looked forward to seeing Brys. He returned his attention to Leeth. "You can only meet Evrit and Vennbir then. If you decide to join us, they'll be your coworkers."

***

Feeling very guilty because he had lingered so long at the Nemizcan offices, Dreen let himself into their suite, then stopped frowning. Surely Chett and Mitra weren't still talking? He took a few steps down the hall. They were. He stopped, listening. Chett would give a name, then Mitra gave her opinion of the person. Her comments were telling, but she was off in a dozen directions at once. There wouldn't be a sound from Chett, then suddenly he would say, 'Let's see if I've got this one right' and give a succinct summary. Dreen listened as they discussed three people, then stepped into the room.

"I've been eavesdropping. I take it Ari didn't give you all duds on the management candidate list?"

Chett shook his head. "He's obviously placing his responsibility to his clients first."

"Good. Maybe he learned something." Dreen was still not feeling the least bit charitable towards Ari Dellmaice. He came forward and stood behind Mitra, resting his hands on her shoulders. "You and Mitra will make a good team."

"Except I'm not staying on at Dellmaice Power," Chett announced. "I won't suit their corporate culture."

Dreen didn't argue. Every now and again Chett's snap decisions were way off base, as he suspected that this one was. But if you challenged him he really dug in. Leave him alone and somewhere down the road he cheerfully admitted he screwed up.

"So, have you any idea what you will do? You know I'll work things around whatever you want."

Chett leaned back. "I want a role at Nemizcan, yes, but I need to think about it."

He had the concept, but there had been no time to flesh it out, much less create a comprehensive business plan. All the same it would be exciting. But he wasn't going to talk to Dreen yet. Strange, everyone at Head Office was still trying to figure out how to market the security work being done on the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb without making it less secure. They weren't seeing the only twist that worked; don't market fragmented aspects of the system. Market the hackers themselves as security consultants. Spinoff a company. Vennbir and Brys for sure. Maybe this guy Leeth. But that would keep.

"When I am finished seeing Ari Dellmaice off the property, and the company is reasonably settled down, Bojo has a venture coming up on Ennup 10. He'll be touring, so he asked if I would be interested in helping." He met Dreen's eyes. "It could be fun."

Out of the frying pan into the fire. He looked at Chett's face alive with suppressed excitement. "You'll probably enjoy it, but I'll miss you."

"Oh, I'm just giving you a break. I'll be back after that like the proverbial bad credit. What I want to do after Bojo's little job is talk you into a spin off from Nemizcan with me running it." Whoops. That's just sort of slipped out. He was still off balance from Mitra.

"A what?" Dreen wasn't rejecting it. He just had no idea where Chett's head was at.

"Oh no! Not now. I hadn't meant to say that, and I have to stay in your fiancée's good graces." Then more seriously, "Give me a couple months while I'm at Dellmaice Power to refine the idea, Dreen. Right now it's nebulous, just an idea I got visiting Rodd a couple days ago. By the way, he really is recovering, enough that we dared tell him about all the excitement. But if I tell you my idea now, you'll do all the planning and not focus on Nemizcan and the wedding. Let me. I want ownership of it."

"Thanks a lot." Dreen made a face. "I can spend my time trying to guess instead."

"You can spend it relaxing, can't he Mitra?"

She just smiled. That wasn't likely.

*****

Chapter 66

Dreen was not at all sure he was looking forward to meeting his in-laws. He suspected his reservations were about half Joran's fault because Joran had been briefing him about them, and half because Mitra really did not want her mother here. He had tried obliquely to question Niki about that. Niki had laughed and said he couldn't blame Mitra. He and Sanja thought they would try telling Roween they were married a couple years after the fact, and then only if they were deciding to start a family. Otherwise they might just get married and never tell her. So it appeared he was headed for mother-in-law problems.

Still, Dreen told himself as the elevator progressed towards the lobby, it sounded like his future father-in-law was both personable and brilliant. The door opened and he stepped out, scanning the lobby for his own mother. Gemma had suggested they have a little walk on the beach, then a glass of lemonade on the terrace before they went to the spaceport. Mitra had thought it was a great idea their having some time together. Dreen suspected she wanted to sneak a little more work in on the geothermal unit before her parents arrived and kept her busy.

No, Gemma was definitely not sitting in any of the groupings of chairs and sofas between the elevator and the doors to the terrace. She was not sitting in the cluster of chairs near the desk either. Two family groups, one with teenage boys, and one with three children ranging in age roughly from six to ten were assembled there, obviously getting ready for some outing. Totes were being checked and one of the fathers was trying to get them all out the door.

Was the gift shop a possibility? It was quite busy and not all that easy to see into. Gemma had said she was going right down and would wait for him in the lobby, but knowing his mother that was not necessarily the case. Right down could mean after she finished watching something, or fixed her hair. Or once here, she could have decided she needed something from the shop. Dreen moved a little closer for a better look. There were a couple of older women in the shop that for a moment had him thinking he had found her because from the rear each had the slender faded blonde look she had. But when they turned they were strangers.

Dreen was about to leave and resign himself to waiting where he could watch the elevator when a man stepped out from behind a rack. He had a shoulder length mane of unruly brown hair. The hooded eyes, the prominent nose, the full lips were unmistakable. Ghen Kulgalu. Before Dreen could hastily turn, Kulgalu recognized him and broke into a delighted smile.

"Dreen!" Ghen left the shop. "How good to see you looking so well after your ordeal."

Dreen couldn't think of a thing to do but to take the extended hand.

"I hoped I would have the chance to tell you that Ranga is absolutely delighted with the computer system you recommended. Every minute he isn't in an Octagla court or watching his heroes play, he's using it."

"I'm glad it worked out." Dreen was sincere. He'd felt sorry for both father and son on their visit to Gingezel.

Ghen nodded. "I was just deciding if I should call up to your suite or if that would disturb your rest. I heard you were coming to Gingezel, so I decided to come see for myself how you were holding up." Perhaps he should soften that a bit for Ralin's benefit. "Besides, I like to come inspect progress on my estate at irregular intervals. No warning. I'm sure everyone on Gingezel is relatively trustworthy, but I've seen too much life. It's made me a cynic."

This statement on moral philosophy combined with the implication Kulgalu had come to Gingezel just to see him left Dreen temporarily speechless. Then the question posed itself. "How did you know I was on my way here?" Gingezel security was pretty lax if they let that slip, and Joran was going to hear about it.

"Bojo. We got into the habit of keeping in touch when the takeover was happening."

The two family group was finally ready for their outing. They had enough equipment for a major expedition. As they headed their way, Ghen took Dreen firmly by the elbow and steered him to a secluded corner. He really needed to know if proper use had been made of that information he sent Niki Kael, or if Mitra's brother had just ignored it and Dreen was still in trouble. If so, this was his chance to pass the information on to Dreen directly.

All Bojo had said was that Dreen and Mitra were still in custody, but it would be on Gingezel, not in the Farr Sector, and they would be subject to extradition. Of course, if he told Dreen the registry number Ralin would have the fact on record, but so what? It would mark Dreen as a close enough friend that he would probably have to have Criminal Class status on future visits, but that beat extradition for manslaughter. His friend's life came first.

As Kulgalu released his arm, Dreen positioned himself so he could see the elevator.

"Are you meeting someone?" Ghen asked.

Dreen nodded. He was not mentioning his mother to Ghen Kulgalu.

"Then I won't keep you." He would keep things oblique as long as he could. That was better for both of them with everything being recorded. "Bojo has kept me apprised of the takeover. I stayed right out of it," Ghen stated firmly for the record. "But as one of the larger Dellmaice Power shareholders I was concerned about what was going on. I was glad it went quickly. That sort of thing is always bad for investor confidence and employee morale if it drags on. But the timing seemed off with you stuck on Drezvir."

Ghen looked at his friend and shook his head. "That was a really stupid move, Dreen, even for a woman. I don't touch the Farr Sector except for a few hospital pharmaceuticals they can't produce and can't do without."

Well, Dreen thought, that was one point in favor of the Farr Sector Judiciary. He said mildly, as aware as Ghen was that this was all being recorded, "It wasn't just for Mitra. I take responsibility for my work and my decisions, and it was right that I was there."

"An honorable man." Ghen nodded solemnly. The more he knew Dreen the better he liked him. "All the same, I thought you were stuck there and I was worried about Dellmaice Power. Then Bojo said you were en route here but still subject to extradition, and you and Chett Linderson would sort out who did what when you got here. Was Bojo right?"

"Pretty well." Dreen couldn't see why Kulgalu shouldn't know the facts and as a major Dellmaice Power shareholder he probably had the right to know them. In fact, now that he thought about it, he should make sure the dropped charges got as much positive press coverage as the charges had received negative coverage. Celeste would be good at this, very calming, reserved, radiating quiet competence.

"Actually all charges have been dropped both against Dellmaice Power and Nemizcan Computing."

"Excellent!" Ghen beamed. Then Niki Kael had used the information well. "Does that mean you will be heading to Pendrae then?"

"No." Dreen was watching the numbers of the descending elevator. "Chett will."

"I see. Then -"

The elevator door opened and Gemma stepped out along with two businessmen and a teenaged girl in a swimming suit. "If you'll excuse me," Dreen started to step away from Kulgalu.

But Gemma's quick eyes had spotted him and she gave her son a smile. Then she paused for a moment, a slight frown on her face that turned into a beaming smile. "Ghen Kulgalu! I never expected to see you here," she called in a voice that carried across the lobby.

Heads turned and the family group stopped their progress towards the door, openly listening.

"That peach tea rose of yours that received the honorary mention in the Laurion horticultural competition last month is superb! How soon will it be available?" Gemma asked as she approached, hand outstretched.

"To the public it may be a few years. It's very tricky to breed." Ghen took her outstretched hand. "For you, Mrs. Pendi, anytime you want. I have so enjoyed your irises over the years. Mother has every last one you have ever bred in her garden."

The eavesdroppers lost interest with the horticultural talk. It was a big galaxy and there was bound to be more than one Ghen Kulgalu. It must be very awkward for this one to resemble the drug lord though. He really should have changed his name, or had cosmetic surgery, or at least adopted a shorter hairstyle. But perhaps short hair was ridiculed on his home planet.

Dreen was looking at his mother, wondering if she could possibly be so naïve as to not know who she was still holding onto and beaming at.

"Does your mother?" Gemma asked, her eyes misting slightly.

"Every last one," Ghen assured her, wondering how Mrs. Pendi could be so modest. She must know how respected she was as a plant breeder.

"Well, that's does say something, doesn't it?" She asked the air between the two men. "Your mother always was the sweetest woman, but things being what they are..." She trailed off, acutely aware the conversation was being recorded and not wanting to embarrass Ghen.

Gemma had been given a preparatory lecture by Nevin as to what to expect as a mother joining her son traveling on a Criminal Class Visa. No matter what Nevin said, the treatment was appalling. Still, she had intended to be a lady about it and not fuss, and then it hadn't happened after all. But Ghen must be processed as they called it every time he visited, and now he must be wearing a recording device. Unconsciously she looked at the various items of jewelry he was wearing.

For once someone had managed to outdo Ghen on confusing hints. Ghen looked at Dreen, but he was just staring at his mother equally puzzled. Reluctantly, because a nice lady like Mrs. Pendi wouldn't know about things like monitoring devices and could say something awkward, he said, "I'm very sorry but I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well," Gemma gave it another try. "I always thought your mother was one of the nicest women, but the way things were with Oren and your father, having my irises is rather daring of her. That was one thing I never thought of her as - daring." She sighed. "Still, people always surprise you. Life does for that matter." She smiled at Ghen and Dreen. "Like you two. No offense Ghen, but you being what you are, and Dreen being so much like his father, I would never have thought you two would get together again. But here you are, friends."

"We are not friends." Dreen said firmly.

"Again?" Ghen asked at the same time.

The full impact of what she was saying hit them and they looked at each other, then back to Gemma.

"Mother," Dreen said very carefully, "I think you had better explain yourself. "

"Yes dear." Gemma sighed. "I suppose I should but you'll get all stiff backed and not like it." She realized now she had made a big mistake assuming Dreen and Ghen were friends, but they looked so natural standing there. "We were going to have a drink of lemonade on the terrace. Won't you join us Ghen?"

*****

Chapter 67

"Mrs. Pendi." Ghen felt awkward, something he rarely did. "Before we start this conversation I have to tell you it will be recorded."

"Yes." Gemma's lips pressed together. "We all thought Dreen would be under criminal charges, so I know all about that." She looked curiously at Ghen's bracelet. It was handsome.

He followed her look. "No." He touched an ear loop.

She nodded. "Oh well, I suppose you are used to this even if I'm not. And I'm not going to be telling anything that isn't on record somewhere or another if someone looks hard enough.

"Actually it's a simple enough story. When you were five years old Ghen and you were a little over four Dreen \- the two of you are ten months different in age - Mr. Kulgalu came to ask Oren about some processing problems he was having in a drug factory. They were getting explosions. Nothing serious yet, but troubling and he was beginning to believe they were just that, industrial process explosions, not sabotage. It was a type of process Oren was an expert at."

She sighed. "Of course Oren threw him out, but he came back two or three times." Gemma looked at her son. Dreen was going to have a lot of trouble with this. "At last Oren decided to help. He told me he couldn't approve of the drugs and the potential harm they would cause to someone down the road, but if he didn't help some workers would be killed for sure in one of the explosions. By then Oren had figured out the type of problems they were having and it was sheer luck there hadn't been a fatality so far. Mr. Kulgalu had made it clear that the operations would continue, hazardous or not."

Gemma looked at Dreen, trying to read his face. "I don't know if Oren's logic was right, dear, or how much of the truth he told me. I do know that for him to help a lot of details of the drug manufacture had to be passed on."

Right. Dreen's jaw tightened. My father wanted the authorities to really lock me up for simply hacking, nothing destructive, just looking. No shades of gray. Black and white. Then he rationalizes assisting galaxy wide drugs. The hypocrite!

"Anyways," Gemma was talking to Ghen now, "there was one summer when he brought you and your mother to Tranus. It was a hot year and it seemed terrible the idea of you being cooped up in a hotel in the city, even in one of Nevin's beautiful buildings. So you and your mother would come out to the estate in the mornings and the men would go on to the plant."

She smiled at Ghen. "You had discovered soccer that summer and were trying to teach Dreen to play. His coordination wasn't that bad for someone his age and he picked it up. The two of you spent the summer racing up and down the lawn." She turned back to Dreen. "Do you remember that at all? I think I still have that first soccer ball. You wouldn't let me throw it out."

Dreen nodded slowly. "I think so..." He was trying to reconcile a half remembered playmate with the man sitting beside him. He hadn't ever really thought of that first soccer loving friend one way or the other. They'd had fun. It had started his lifelong interest in the game. But that was all he had ever thought in the once in a decade or so that the bit of childhood resurfaced in his memory. A lot of his friends had come and gone. While his family was tied to the estate and Pendi Industries, their friends were a highly mobile professional group. He didn't have any idea what had happened to most of his childhood friends.

Still, perhaps that fact explained why he kept feeling that if Kulgalu wasn't who he was, he could like him. But he was who he was, and Dreen had no intentions of liking him. He would not compromise himself like his father had. His expression darkened.

Ghen on the other hand had gone from thoughtful concentration as he tried to dredge up any possibly useful memories to a delighted smile. He said to Gemma, "I think I remember you!"

Actually, he remembered a pretty slender young blonde woman who barely resembled this woman, but it would have been tactless and cruel to say so.

"At least, I remember a hot summer day and playing outside, and you bringing us lemonade." He raised his glass. Perhaps the taste had triggered the memory. Lemonade was something he never drank. "And cookies and telling us to come rest in the shade for a while." He paused doubtfully. "I want to say that you actually baked the cookies, that you didn't get them from the cater unit or have your cook bake them for you." He added, "I'm probably wrong about that."

But Gemma was beaming at him. "Fancy remembering that! I've always loved to bake."

"I had never seen cookies just out of the oven before."

Dreen had no comparable memory, perhaps because his mother's baking was something he took for granted. However he could imagine his mother baking cookies for two little boys. To her a child would be a child. Oren should never have put her in that situation. "Excuse me." Dreen rose abruptly. He turned and started towards the water.

Gemma watched his retreating back. "Poor Dreen. I knew he wouldn't take this well. He's more like his father that he realizes. He hero worshiped him although he would never admit that to himself." That led naturally to wondering just how much the man beside her was like his father. Without thinking Gemma asked, "Didn't you ever want to be something different?" Then realizing what she had said, Gemma reached out to touch Ghen's forearm. "I'm sorry Ghen, that was none of my business."

It certainly wasn't, and it wasn't a question Ghen would normally have answered if anyone had ever had the nerve to ask it, which they hadn't. But looking at the gentle quiet face he found himself answering, "Of course. Actually, I had two dreams. One was to be a soccer player, not that I had much of a chance. I simply wasn't that good. I mean I dreamed of it, and I worked myself up to the top tier of an industrial league, but scouts weren't exactly falling all over me." He looked at Dreen walking at the water's edge. "What about Dreen? He certainly follows the game."

"He had his dreams too." Gemma replied with a hint of sadness in her voice. "In his case he was on the University team and as a mother I thought doing well. But plans were, um, interrupted." By his being arrested for hacking, but that was something she simply never spoke of. "And the other dream?" She asked gently, prompted by a soft faraway look on Ghen's face.

"Oh, that one almost worked. It was a little more realistic. Or," he amended, "at least I thought it was realistic. I married young and my wife and I were going to cut ties from our families and make a go of it on our own. In her case it wasn't a choice." The distant look was sad now. "They disowned her when she married me. In my case it was a conscious choice. I wanted out. We weren't doing that bad either, going for professional degrees, maintaining scholarships, not sleeping much, juggling our schedules to care for Ranga."

"Ranga?"

"My son." Ghen smiled. "Maybe he'll be the athlete. He's quite an Octagla player."

"Really." It was only polite though. Gemma was not a sports fan. She was much more interested in how this very every day, achievable dream went wrong. "So why didn't things work out?"

Ghen shrugged. "This conversation is being recorded, Mrs. Pendi. Please remember that. My father was arrested and convicted. I suppose you heard. It got enough press the whole galaxy must know. I was needed desperately at home by my mother. She was very distressed." No way was he saying anything that remotely implied he took over the business. "I went, but my wife saw that as breaking my promise to her. She dumped me, and Ranga. And that," he said firmly and made extremely uncomfortable by the pity he was seeing in her eyes, "is all there is to the story."

Gemma swallowed hard, a lump in her throat. Poor dear Oren. He tried so hard all his life to do the right thing, to be an upright honorable man. No doubt his decisions had helped countless strangers she would never know. But he had certainly done a lot of harm to his own son, and to Ghen. Ghen had been such a cute child, so serious and with such an oversized nose.

She said with a tremor in her voice, "I wish now I hadn't asked."

"Mrs. Pendi, I assure you I have a completely happy life. Things happen none of us anticipate. We get past them. After all," Ghen added since she still looked upset, "it's nothing to do with you."

But it was. Obviously Ghen didn't know. Gemma hesitated. Should she leave it that way? Was that safest? Or would he find out some time and think her a liar. She looked at Ghen, but he was watching Dreen, an unreadable expression on his face. She said, "Ghen, are you an honorable man like your father?" Honorable seemed a ridiculous word to use, but obviously Ghen's father had kept his word to the point of not even taking his son into his confidence.

Ghen turned a puzzled face to her. "I'd like to think so."

"Would you honor a commitment of his?"

"No." Ghen said bluntly. "He's made too many over the years I want no part of. Why?" Was this some kind of test?

"It's just something I think you should know. I... I suppose I want to apologize to you. But, I'm very sorry Ghen, but I'm also afraid of you."

"My dear Mrs. Pendi. You have nothing to fear from me. In fact, I was just thinking about calling Mother and saying I ran into you. She might want to call you."

She had to say something. Otherwise Ghen would place his mother in a very awkward position. Gemma said as calmly as she could, "And Dreen?"

Ghen frowned, so that was it. "You disapprove of our friendship? I assure you I would never hurt Dreen." He was tempted to tell her just what he had done for Dreen to get him out of the Drezvir mess. But he would just as soon that wasn't for Ralin Heusgar's ears. Instead he said, "I value Dreen as a friend."

"Yes..." Gemma said slowly. She probably did disapprove now that she thought of it. Still, she remembered Dreen's firm 'We are not friends' that Ghen hadn't heard and she found she felt sorry for this obviously lonely man. "I think then Ghen I will hold you to your word that neither of us have anything to fear from you, and tell you something you have the right to know."

Gemma looked away to watch her son. Dreen was well down the shore now. "By the time Oren was finished he knew a lot about making certain drugs. Enough to make trouble for your father. He agreed not to go to the authorities. I think..." She looked back at Ghen. "To be quite honest, I think your father threatened Dreen and me if he did, but I have no proof. But Oren did say that the condition of his help was that if he was ever asked a direct question by a legal authority he would tell the truth, and your father would leave all of us alone.

"That day eventually came, and it was Oren who sent to your father to prison. He was a protected witness so you would not know that. I cannot say I'm sorry for what happened. But I am sorry for the cost to you, Ghen."

"I see..." Ghen turned to watch Dreen again. At last he said, "Well, it appears your husband was an honorable man as well. He kept his tongue for almost fifteen years."

"You had no idea?"

"No." He was still watching Dreen. "Will you tell Dreen?"

"Sometime. Right now I think he's worried enough about meeting his mother-in-law."

"The illustrious Dr. Kael." This brought a smile to Ghen's full lips. "I'm inclined to sympathize. She's arriving soon?"

"We're headed out to meet her at the spaceport."

Then he would have a chance to see this woman Mitra that both Dreen and Joran had fallen for. "Then I won't keep you." Ghen rose. "Just tell my greenhouses when you want that rose and I will I.C.E. one to you."

*****

Chapter 68

Reluctantly Mitra acknowledged the alarm tone on her wrist unit. She'd actually managed to focus and get something done. Three or four more sessions like this and she would have something to talk to Chett about on the geothermal unit. She still had to consciously remind herself it was Chett, and not Ari she would talk to. She looked back at the screen. It wouldn't take ten minutes to clarify that one point on ceramics. The tone sounded again.

"All right! All right!"

This time Mitra stood up, feeling virtuous about that. The odds of sitting down again were small, so she turned the alarm off. Still, she knew it was always wise to physically separate herself from her work. She moved to the window and looked out at the lake. Crescent Bay was definitely outdoing itself to look good for Chelan. There was enough of a breeze that the sailors had been tempted out, and fluffy white clouds were drifting across a deep blue sky. She knew Chelan wouldn't care if it was sleeting, or a day with fog and drizzle. All he would care about was that he was actually here in one of the cities he created. Still, she was pleased he would have a good welcome.

Her eyes turned to the shore and she saw Dreen slowly walking away from the hotel. He was nervous. Well, that was fine. So was she. He'd better not walk too far though. Gemma was too sweet. She'd just let him wander off. So, she had better go retrieve him and tell him Roween only sort of bit. Joran was no help at all either, telling them he had it all under control. Personally, Mitra was quite nervous wondering what Joran's idea of 'all under control' was. But trying to find out what he was up to had got her nowhere. She really had tried too.

With a dejected sigh and trying to focus exclusively on her father, Mitra went to adjust her makeup.

***

Ghen found a seat where he could watch the elevator, but Dreen wasn't likely to see him when he returned from his walk. He rather suspected Dreen needed a little distancing from the news their families had known each other. As for himself, he was delighted Dreen had been a childhood friend. His memories of that interval were much clearer than Dreen's, but then the interval had been atypical for him, one of freedom in a usually rigidly controlled life.

Sitting where he was, he couldn't see the entrance to the café, and he was absorbed enough in his childhood memories that he wasn't aware of the man behind him until he felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Kulgalu."

It was an unmistakable voice. The voice of a legal official. Ghen controlled his automatic reaction almost as fast as it started. But not quite.

A slight smile touched Ceb's lips as he moved into Kulgalu's line of sight. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Ceb Windegren, Interplanetary Judiciary."

Ghen did not rise, but he nodded civilly. "Mr. Windegren. Are you by any chance a relative of C.C.'s?" He knew of course that Ceb was.

"His father," Ceb said, suddenly feeling at a disadvantage. "You know him?"

"We met at Joran's, and we've run into each other off and on here on Gingezel. He's a very competent young man." Ghen was enjoying Ceb's discomposure.

"Thank you, I think," Ceb added dryly. That was another event C.C. hadn't mentioned. It really was unfortunate his and Joran's paths had ever crossed. He shifted off C.C. "I came to tell you I asked to go through the Criminal Class processing here, and was allowed to do so. It's impressive. You made a very competent consultant."

"Thank you, I think." Ghen threw back Ceb's exact tone. Then with an engaging smile he asked, "Can you tell me what Mitra Kael looks like?" He'd forgotten to ask Gemma.

***

Mitra was late when she stepped out of the elevator. They were all supposed to be collecting in the lobby by the door to go to the spaceport. She looked for the expected group of people at the door, all cross with her. She'd decided she really did have to capture that idea about the ceramics, but it had taken a little longer than she expected. However the only people there were two very elderly women and what looked like a nurse attendant. Terrific. She'd hurried like crazy and no one was here. Mitra took a quick look around the lobby to confirm that she was right, not that they had got tired of waiting for her and gone and sat down. No, she was the first here.

Wait a minute. Mitra's eyes went to the far corner. Was that Ceb sitting there deep in conversation with some man with one hell a mane of untidy hair? Yes. That was definitely Ceb. Well, she'd at least corner him and put him to work making sure anyone that wandered into the lobby stayed put. Otherwise they'd be chasing each other all morning.

Mitra walked over. "Am I interrupting, Uncle Ceb?"

"Not at all dear." Ceb rose, nodding to Kulgalu but not offering to introduce Mitra since she showed absolutely no sign of recognizing him. "I was just getting some advice on renting a boat." The conversation had gone in that direction. While he had a reason to talk to the galaxy's drug lord, Ceb had been exploring his personality.

"Oh, are you thinking about taking Aunt Beti sailing?" That was a nice idea. She was leading Ceb towards open space where everyone could see him.

"Well, the weather seems perfect."

"That's nice." Maybe a cruise would be a way to keep her mother busy. "Ceb, could you possibly just stand here and collect everyone who comes through? I was sure I'd be slowest, and if we keep wandering off we'll never get to the spaceport. By the way, where's Niki? I thought he was with you, otherwise I'd have stopped by his room."

"He was, but when there was no sign of you when we came out of breakfast he went window shopping for a present for Sanja. He said he wouldn't go far. I'll call him."

"Please." Mitra rolled her eyes. Window shopping yet! They'd never get off.

"I could ask you where Dreen is," Ceb said mildly.

"He and Gemma came down for a drink on the terrace. I saw Dreen walking on the beach so I'll go get him." Mitra was already heading off at a trot.

She was looking better this morning Ceb decided. There was a little color to her, and a sparkle to her eyes. She was obviously excited her parents were getting here.

***

So that was Mitra Kael, the woman all the fuss was about. Ghen watched her head out to collect Dreen. He honestly couldn't say she was his type. He liked calm, placid women with a figure to them. Still, he had to admit she had a presence, and he could see where a man could fall for her. She presented herself well, too. Now that makeup job was truly excellent. The bronzer and blusher hiding the pallor almost looked real. Ghen was a man who had studied various forms of deception, including cosmetics which were currently largely, but not exclusively, a woman's art. In this case he approved of the artistry. She looked good. It really was a pity though that both Dreen and Joran had picked her. He hated to see his friends fight.

***

Mitra, Dreen, Niki, Ceb, and Gemma stood clustered in front of the first monitor in the Arrivals hall of the spaceport staring at it blankly. The flight they were to meet was not listed.

"We aren't that late!" Mitra said defensively. "Maybe the flight isn't in yet."

"Yes we are," Niki said. "Mitra, why did you have to pick this morning to work?"

"So? You went window shopping." They glared at each other.

An attendant approached. She had been shown holograms and asked to watch for this group. "Dr. Kael?" she asked Mitra.

"Yes."

"I was asked to tell you that the reception for your parents is already underway, and to escort your party there."

"Reception?" It was a groan from Dreen. He hadn't been able to get any more out of Joran than Mitra had.

"Yes sir, in VIP lounge 2C. Now if everyone is here, would you follow me?"

There were somewhere between fifteen and twenty people in the lounge, plus serving staff carrying trays of food and presumably nonalcoholic beverages given the early hour. Roween was holding court, that was the only way to describe it, in the center of one group. She didn't even notice them come in. Beti, in the same group, had her back to the entrance. Chelan, in the center of a larger group at the far end of the room, saw them and gave his children a delighted smile, a wave, and an apologetic shrug. An intense looking young blond man had him firmly by the elbow.

Joran bent over, whispered something in Chelan's ear, and headed towards them, his arm negligently around a glamorous looking blonde. Joran himself was in his full Anton persona. He had on the purple necklace he'd worn at the concert, and the same sweater. His hair was done and he had on noticeable makeup. About the only toning down from the concert was that the pants were purple suede, not silk.

"Who are these people?" Mitra demanded, fists on her hips, as Joran slowly worked down the room, apparently stopping to talk to everyone.

"I know a few," Dreen said. "That's Nevin Pennell beside the blond talking to your father. I don't know who the blond is. But one of Nevin's senior managers is beside him – the one with the dark hair and white sideburns. And I think I've seen that bald man with the beard at Nevin's." He shifted his gaze to where Roween stood. "And the elderly man talking to your mother is Jorgus Brenya."

The crowd by Chelan shifted, showing a smartly dressed silver haired woman. "That's Marti," Niki added. "Remember we saw her on the beach watching her team train." Marti owned the Tamaran Octagla team.

"And – wait a minute." Mitra watched a lean café-au-lait man facing Roween turn to talk to the man beside him. "Oh! I was right. That's Bruce Oondo!"

"A roboticist definitely outranks Octagla, Sis? Remember, he might just be visiting Mercan."

"Mercan?" Mitra frowned. What did the galaxy's leading roboticist have to do with the Tamara winger?

"He is Mercan's father," Niki said mildly.

"Really?" Mitra was uninterested.

"Really. If you are into robotics, you must know about Vmooxa Robotics. Mercan set that up in competition to his dad."

Joran and the woman had stopped to collect Sanja. She was standing on the outer edge of the crowd around Chelan looking a little lost. She'd started towards Niki when they came in, then stopped to wait for Joran.

The threesome were halfway across the intervening space when Dreen recognized Rhea. She looked totally different from what she had at supper last night, still dressed in the clothes she had been windsurfing in. Her cropped hair was curled and highlighted, her makeup was as good as Joran's, and she had on a loose-fitting dress that accented her ample curves while a Second Skin or casual sportswear just made her look dumpy. All of a sudden Dreen could see why she and Eli had been the hottest item in the galaxy.

Rhea saw the belated recognition and grinned, suddenly looking very much Rhea. "I clean up pretty good, huh?"

"You look absolutely fantastic, Rhea," Niki assured her.

Rhea poked her head around Joran to be able to see Sanja. "Do you have a full-time job keeping track of this guy?"

Sanja didn't answer. There was just a hint of a smile touching her lips, that was all.

"Not anymore," Niki assured Rhea, and went to retrieve Sanja from Joran's grip.

Suspecting Niki's fiancée would like a change of topic, Dreen said, "You're looking pretty spectacular too, Joran. I thought you usually saved this for evenings."

"Yes," Mitra said, not at all amused by the deliberate repeat of that damned concert getup. "Why did you have to show up looking like that!"

"Easy, Pretty Lady." Joran mocked backing up from her anger. "Your mother loved it."

"I bet she did too!" Niki said. He knew all of a sudden he was thinking of Joran as Anton again and was somewhere between impressed and intimidated. He had relaxed during that first supper with him into thinking of him only as Joran. "But I think you've intimidated Sanja." He pulled his totally silent spouse closer to his side.

"Have I?" Joran was honestly worried and surprised. "I'm sorry Sanja. I just thought you were the really quiet calm type who never said a word. I promise. Tomorrow it's chinos or sweats, and a bottle of wine on the beach, okay? Or a nice picnic up the hill and we can all be real people. This," he was grinning at Mitra again, "is just something I do when the occasion warrants it."

"The occasion does not warrant it! Did you have to wear exactly what you wore at the concert?"

*****

Chapter 69

"Why not wear it?" Joran was amused. Was she still mad at him over M's song? "It's sexy. And besides, when I go on tour in a couple weeks you'll see it every time you turn on the holovision because this is my new look. The best you can bargain for is different earrings." He touched the studs. "You like hoops better?"

"Joran!"

"What's the matter, Pretty Lady? You don't like surprise parties? Try relaxing."

Actually, Mitra adored surprise parties. She'd organized several in the course of her life, but this was the first that had happened to her. She told herself firmly that this was Chelan's day, and he really did look delighted. She also reminded herself that from now on Joran was part of her life, so she might as well get used to him. Besides, if he continued to get a rise out of her, he'd just keep baiting her, because that was exactly what he was doing – baiting her. He was enjoying it too.

Mitra put on her sweetest smile. "The next surprise party, you're the victim. Actually," she stepped across and kissed his cheek, "it's sweet of you, Joran. My parents don't mean anything to you, so you really didn't have to do this."

"That's better. But you're wrong on one thing, Pretty Lady. Your dad is a very important man here. We are all absolutely delighted he is finally going to see his cities, not just images of them. We were all calling each other back and forth and scrapping about it. Chelan will have to stay with one of us in this city so he can see it, and another in another city, and it was getting to be ridiculous from a logistics point of view. So, since we were all on Gingezel anyway, we decided the sanest thing to do was simply to all be here and greet him. Then we could tell him how we love the cities. And then your dad can suit himself traveling around."

"We?" Niki asked. He thought about the faces they'd placed. Jorgus Brenya, Marti, Nevin Pennell, Bruce Oondo. And Joran.

"The Gingezel Consortium." Joran answered the unasked question. "Jorgus, Nevin, Marti, Bruce, and I. Plus the senior construction engineers and architects Nevin has building the cities. Which," Joran was totally serious now, "brings me to a very serious request. There aren't many outside the consortium who know who all of us are, although I expect each of us has told one or two people in their own circle about their involvement. For sure every employee signs a nondisclosure agreement. So please don't talk around, okay?" He turned to Ceb first. "Jorgus assures me of your discretion."

"I'm flattered," Ceb said gravely.

"And obviously we trust you, Dreen, or you wouldn't be working on the hyperweb."

"Not enough to give me the names of who I was working for before." Dreen was amused. "But I won't talk."

"Not even to Chett?" Mitra asked.

"That's right," Joran answered for him. This was none of Linderson's business. "And what about you, Pretty Lady?"

"I'll try to remember not to," Mitra said.

That was not exactly reassuring. Joran looked at Dreen.

"Relax. She's lousy at names. A week from now she won't remember them. That's why she always has a facilitator attached to her staff."

Mitra gave him a dirty look, but Joran relaxed. He turned to Niki and cocked an eyebrow.

"Sanja and I wouldn't be much by way of financial advisors if we talked what we knew, would we?"

"Fair enough. Then let's go rescue Chelan from that overzealous architect. Then," Joran's smile was malicious, "you can meet your mother-in-law, Dreen."

They all started forward except for Gemma. Dreen gave his mother a questioning glance.

"Go ahead, dear. You know I don't like crowds and strangers. I'll be along in a bit."

Joran, who was leading the return stopped and turned, frowning. "Gemma, what's wrong? You and Nevin are old friends, and Mitra's dad was quite disappointed you weren't already here when they arrived. He really wanted to see you again."

"Yes." It was a doubtful syllable.

Ceb tactfully took Sanja by the arm. "Come along, Sanja. Since you're a financier, you'll want to meet Jorgus Brenya. Why don't you charm him and ask for an autograph like he's a sports figure?" They'd better let immediate family sort out the pre-wedding jitters.

"I might." Sanja laughed.

"If you don't, I will." Niki fell in with them.

Rhea eased herself out of Joran's loose embrace. "You never asked for my autograph," she teased Niki as she joined the departing group. She didn't really know Mrs. Pendi so she had better tactfully leave too.

"Would you have given it to me?"

"No." Rhea laughed.

"There you are," Niki said, laughing too. Rhea was a good sort.

Joran watched them leave, then turned back to Gemma. "Well?" he demanded.

Gemma was embarrassed now. She felt like she'd caused a scene. "It's nothing really, Joran. It's just that when I knew Mitra's parents, we were all young, younger than you are. We were all so full of dreams, wonderful things we'd do. And look at Roween. She's gone on to fulfill all those dreams and then some. And what about me? I've been a housewife and raised a few plants."

"Crap!" Joran said firmly.

Dreen gave him a dirty look. Gemma did not like profanity. Besides, she'd been honest enough to open up to Joran. He should be respecting her for that.

Joran caught the look. "I mean it. Crap! No disrespect to your mother, Mitra, but what single thing has she done to make this galaxy a lovelier place to live in? More useful, yes, but lovelier? No. But look at you Gemma. Everyone loves your irises. I love your irises. They're my favorite colors. Our garden," he could say that now, "was full of them. As you'd know," he gave Gemma a stern look, "if you'd accepted a single one of those dozens of invitations Maillie sent you."

Gemma smiled. Joran really was recovering. She'd been worried, but this was the real Joran, the brash, cheeky, outrageous, adorable kid who had come home with Dreen that first semester break. She had always tried to be a second mother to him, especially once his own disowned him. There were times when she'd sympathize with this unknown woman, but she had always kept her home open to Joran.

Now Gemma said mildly, "Joran, I don't fit with your friends."

Joran looked at Dreen, grinned, and said "I won't say it again, but it is. You'll just have to make it up to me for being so ridiculous, that's all."

"How?" Gemma asked warily. She'd learned a very long time ago to not give Joran blanket agreement on anything.

"You have to make my garden on my new place here pretty for me."

"Joran!" Gemma was appalled. "I'm not a landscape architect!"

"So, tell me one you've always admired and I'll hire them and you can boss them around. Just make sure there's lots of purple. Now, come on! You'll insult Chelan."

***

Chelan had convinced Roween that after the rigors of travel and the excitement of the arrival, she should relax, have a long soak, and perhaps even a nice session with an esthetician. Although how anyone could consider the space yacht Joran had arranged for them a rigor, Chelan didn't know. It hadn't really been that hard a sell. Roween adored laying there with goo all over her, and when she had found that the hotel staff had someone who not only did facials but whole body wraps in your room, she had admitted reluctantly that yes, perhaps she was just the least bit over stimulated. The combination perhaps of the last hyperspatial jump and the reception, but he was right. She should let herself rest.

So now, having been reassured by the esthetician that this restoration would take hours, Chelan was free to explore Crescent Bay. This was exactly what he had been doing for the last forty-five minutes. He hadn't done any of the touristy walks, or looked at the town with tourist's eyes. He'd headed straight for what was the center of town for the residents, asking himself with each step, asking again as he turned the corner and saw a new vista 'Is this right?' Each resident he met he asked, 'How do you like living here?' That had been a real concern to him. How do you create a historical city that isn't hell to live in on a practical, day-to-day basis? But everyone had said they loved it, that they wouldn't live anywhere else. So Nevin's architects, like that young blond man, had been very clever, blending the new with the old so you didn't pick it up.

Now though, Chelan was starting to let himself relax and be an ordinary tourist. Chelan did not consider himself a galactic traveler like his wife. They had lived on Tranus those few years as a young couple, and he had attended the odd off-world conference over the years, but when he added it all up, the list was pathetically short. But here he was, on a new world, new to him, new to settlement. He found himself trying to sense differences. Gingezel was a bit closer to average in all parameters than Plenata, so if he was sensitive he should feel slightly less gravity, and perhaps sense the slightly different atmospheric mix. Chelan tried. He stood there on the street corner looking down towards the harbor and tried. He couldn't tell anything though. All he knew was that the warm late summer sun felt heavenly after the winter cold snap he'd left, and that the wind on his back blowing down from the hills smelled foreign and vaguely pine-like.

Chelan smiled to himself, finally admitting he was really here. What he would do now is take his time and walk back to the harbor, find a nice restaurant, settle down with a large fruity drink, and call Mitra and Dreen to join him. She'd said they would anytime, when he was through his look around on his own. Trust Mitra to understand that he needed that. Now though, he needed to spend some time with them when they weren't in a crowd, to be sure his little girl was happy.

She seemed to be, although at the spaceport she had acted like she was mad at Joran about something, but she seemed basically happy. That was good. And so far, he liked Dreen, not that that mattered as long as Mitra liked him. Still, he liked him and that was good too. There seemed to be a lot of Oren in him, and he had always liked Oren. He was a man you could count on. But Dreen was more personable. Feeling remarkably satisfied with life, Chelan started to hum under his breath, something Roween hated him to do, and began his leisurely downhill stroll to the harbor.

***

Roween did not allow herself to frown. That would crack her mask, something she did not want to do at any cost. Mentally she frowned though. Really, lately Chelan's behavior had been totally inexplicable. How could he possibly justify not having told her about his involvement in Gingezel before now? She would have met the consortium earlier, and they could have started planning science centers. When she thought of the wasted time, the valuable research that could have been done, she was quite cross with her spouse. Quite cross. He just wanted all the attention and funding for himself, that was all. The way they were all fawning over him when all he had done was design some cities. They were historical cities, Roween granted Chelan that. But when it came right down to it, so what? A city was a city. All that fuss, that time and trouble, could have gone into the science centers.

Roween frowned.

"Dr. Kael," the esthetician asked solicitously, "are you uncomfortable?"

"Fine," Roween tried to say without moving her lips.

"Then please be still if you can."

Roween tried to calm herself by thinking of the supper invitation she had accepted on their behalf from Jorgus Brenya. He was a charming man. Chelan had said something silly about supper with Mitra and Dreen, but that was ridiculous. They could supper together anytime. She lost herself in visions of the ultimate bioengineering lab.

*****

Chapter 70

A call tone sounded. Ari glared at Haran Barloth beside him, the obvious source of the disruption. All he wanted was to get this over with, leave the place to an obviously gloating Chett Linderson, and go home. Home, immediately. Otherwise he was going to flatten Linderson's face.

"I'm only permitting priority calls," Haran said mildly, looking at the identifier. "This one is the Interplanetary Judiciary. Excuse me."

Without waiting for permission because Ari would want to hear the call, he left. He needn't have. It was short and succinct. Haran walked back into the meeting room.

"They have arrested Mark Laratte trying to leave planet using false identification."

Ari stared. "Mark was here on Pendrae? Farolavo Power is Calixa based."

"South Keys Islands spaceport," Haran said economically.

A grudging smile of admiration spread across Ari's face. He shook his head. "Galaxy, that man has more nerve than I do!"

"Should this mean something to me?" Chett asked, not expecting an answer.

"It's the spaceport closest to Zloenni's island." Ari's smile broadened. "I think you just found your missing block of funding, Linderson, if you dare walk down that road!"

Since Ari had actually opened his mouth, not just glowered, Chett risked a second question.

"Honest opinion please. Could Mark have done the hack? You know how good he was or wasn't."

Ari didn't hesitate. "He could if he wanted to. He was one of those people with more than one gift, and computing was his second. But my guess was that he was too damned busy stealing Mitra's design. He probably roped in his brother."

Ari was looking at him like he should know what that meant. Chett had a sinking feeling. He stretched out his long legs and asked softly, "His brother?"

"Klarak -"

"Voroth." Chett finished for him, adding a string of profanity.

"You didn't know."

"No I bloody didn't know!" Chett met the amusement in the other man's eyes with pure ice. "And to save you asking, yes he was a Nemizcan employee, and yes, he was on the Drezvir project for a week subbing for sick leave." He remembered that from scanning Klarak's file before firing him. The next day he had asked Jann because it bothered him that he couldn't place the face in relation to the Drezvir work. "That was all he would need, wasn't it?" Chett rose abruptly. "Excuse me, I have a call to make." Ari's laughter followed him out of the room.

***

Chett's tone sounded on Dreen's compad. He said apologetically "Chett wants to say something about Ari Dellmaice." He knew it was socially unacceptable to leave call tones on at meals, especially at an intimate supper with friends like the one he and Mitra were having with Joran and Rhea in Joran's apartment. But ever since he had missed that crucial call from Mitra, priority call tones stayed on all the time.

"I'll take it in the living room."

Joran grinned. "Can I come too? I've been waiting to see how that meeting went."

"Sure." Dreen returned his ear to ear grin.

"Let's use my videoconferencing center."

They headed off, Joran's arm around Dreen's shoulders. Mitra hesitated, then pushed her chair away from the table. She still wasn't sure she wanted to hear Chett gloat, but she supposed she should be there just in case she had said something wrong during that quizzing he had given her on staff, or if he had more questions.

"Excuse me, Rhea."

"Do you need moral support? That looked like it was turning into very much a man's scene."

Mitra smiled, reassured. She was getting to like Rhea. "If I'm not used to men's scenes by now, I've got problems." Chelan had said that female involvement in power systems engineering had varied tremendously over the centuries, and now was sort of middling. If so she would have hated to see the low spots, and would really love some time to work on an all woman team.

"All right, then I'll finish my dessert and give you all some privacy."

***

Chett appeared, and Dreen's smile faded. Chett was furious. He had seen him mad before, but rarely like this, hard eyed, tightlipped, an angry flush on otherwise white cheeks. Usually that had been about Ari.

"Problems with Dellmaice?"

"Dellmaice?" Chett shook his head blankly for a moment. "Oh, no. Dellmaice is fine. Trouble with bloody Drezvir!"

"Drezvir?" Dreen's stomach knotted. Wouldn't it ever be over?.

"Drezvir," Chett repeated grimly giving Mitra who was now standing beside Dreen a very icy glare. "I realize that on Drezvir that you were busy trying to sort out possible energy distributions and a lot of engineering problems, but you might have noticed that Dreen was in trouble as a likely candidate as the hacker once they decided the system was hacked."

"He was in no worse trouble than you! Or me!" Mitra's chin went up and her eyes flashed. "So what's your problem? I didn't do anything."

"Exactly!"

"What was I supposed to do? I'm no computer genius." Mitra was confused. "And I still don't understand the hacking stuff. Vennbir tried to explain it. But I got lost," she added plaintively. Vennbir really was bright and cute, but he was very confusing.

"But you said to Dreen you thought Mark Laratte could have done it." Chett's jaw tightened.

"I said he probably could." Mitra glared right back. She'd never seen Chett like this, but the give-it-right-back approach usually worked with Ari. Oh, I hope I said probably. Because it looks like I was wrong. Had they found Mark and had he totally denied any hacking? Were they right back at square one with no solution to the problem? All defiance went out of her and she started to shiver.

"Was I wrong?"

"Yes you were bloody wrong!"

Mitra frowned. Chett said that like she should know who it was, if it wasn't Mark. "Am I opposed to make some miraculous guess? I told you, I'm no computer scientist."

"No, but you almost married Mark Laratte. I assume at some point he might have discussed, you might even possibly have met relatives?" Chett's sarcasm was biting.

Mitra started to feel distinctly uncomfortable. "His parents came for a visit once." She was acutely aware of eyes watching her. "And of course his brother used to call."

"Mark's brother?" Dreen's voice was almost as cold as Chett's. Mitra had never once mentioned Laratte having a brother.

"In the interest of someone being accurate, half-brother." Chett said. "He never visited? Is that because they only sort of got along?"

"Oh no, they were quite close I think. It was just that he worked on another planet and was always as busy as Mark was. I think they always planned to meet on vacation but just never got the timing right." Mitra was uncomfortable again. "How should I know? He wasn't my brother!"

"Do you at least know where he worked?"

"I - I'll try to think?"

"Don't waste our time," Chett said acidly. "He worked at Nemizcan Head Office, R&D." At Dreen's shocked stare Chett added, "We're talking about Klarak Voroth. Ari assumed we had known all along that he was Mark's brother."

Chett wasn't sure which had him angrier. The terrifying thought it could well have been proven Mark knew nothing of the details of the hack, so it was back to square one. Or the fact area Ari had so thoroughly enjoyed deriding his ignorance.

"I see," Dreen said in a still icier tone, giving Mitra the coldest stare he ever had.

"Mark's brother works for you?" Mitra was starting to feel as cold as the stares. She may not have been as focused as she might have been on Drezvir, but at the moment she was and she could see the implication.

"Worked," Chett said curtly. "I fired him and he hates my guts."

"Oh," Mitra said weakly, taking hold of the back of a chair for support.

"Why didn't you mention him at the time on Drezvir, Mitra?" Dreen asked with a note of resignation. He knew the answer.

"I - I never thought of him. I don't think I really knew what he did." That wasn't going to go over well, was it?

"No, you wouldn't!" Chett was disgusted.

"Come here, Pretty Lady" Joran opened his arms to hold Mitra and she fled into them. "It's all right." He tried to calm her like she was a frightened animal. "You screwed up pretty good and everyone's mad at you. I know what it feels like. I screw up all the time."

Dreen and Chett totally ignored this side play. Dreen said grimly, "I'll contact Ceb Windegren. He and his wife took C.C. and Lilla and Tessa out for supper. They arrived today. But with the little girl -" Dreen stopped shocked by the time strip. Where had the night gone? Tessa would have been in bed long ago.

He frowned. "You aren't calling me before you go to this last session with Ari at Dellmaice Power, are you?"

"No. We've been meeting for three hours, going over final details with Haran Barloth and a roomful of other lawyers. But when Ari mentioned Klarak I called a recess."

At the mention of lawyers Mitra started to shiver.

"Come on, Pretty Lady. You don't need to listen to this." Joran led Mitra out of the room.

Totally focused on Chett, Dreen nodded. "Do you have a few minutes to talk then? I think there is a chance we found our other hacker as well - Klarak."

"Other hacker?"

"Apparently Gali and Brys have been convinced recently we've had two troublemakers going after the Gingezel system. Leeth, doing his work through the system but not being totally destructive, and someone really vicious. Gali accused Leeth of the last vindictive attack, one while I was en route back from the Farr Sector. It totally destroyed the system." Dreen paused significantly. "Leeth denies it was him and I believe him. He hated me but he loves software."

"And Klarak is capable of being both vindictive and ruthless," Chett said softly. "I warned him off ever using Nemizcan interfaces or I would prosecute. I never thought of the Gingezel UltraSecure HyperWeb." Chett frowned. That had been a serious lapse of focus.

"You can't think of everything. It never crossed my mind either. But something has crossed mine, right now. We're going to do a full set of audits now that we know who we are looking for, to see if there is any evidence at all that Klarak got at the Gingezel design documents at Head Office. And I will talk to everyone who has been involved in any way and see how curious he was."

Decisions made, Dreen shifted to what was really interesting. "So how has Ari been?"

Chett let himself smile. "He's constrained by at least three lawyers all the time. I suspect they eat with him, go to the toilet with him. It will be very interesting to see what he does when he steps off Dellmaice Power property this afternoon and they no longer control him. Very interesting." Chett rather suspected he would enjoy that scene.

***

"Where are we?" Mitra blinked at what looked like a piece of the tropics, not that she knew much about the topics.

"The atrium. Maillie designed it with all of her favorite plants." He could come in here now, and thank her for this, but not feel overwhelmed by her memory.

"It's beautiful." Mitra took her mind off her problem for that long, but that was it. She turned to Joran, tipping her face up in the moonlight. "Joran, how could I have been so stupid?" Her eyes misted with tears. "And now Dreen is furious with me."

"It will be all right." Joran gathered her in his arms and felt tears wet his shirt. "Okay. It won't be all right for a bit. I don't know Chett that well, but when Dreen's that mad it takes a while for him to calm down. I wouldn't push my luck until about noon. But he will calm down. And when he does, he'll see there was no reason for you to make the connection."

Her head shook denial against his chest. "Okay," Joran agreed again. "You want me to say you screwed up real good, and that you should have got it? Probably you should have. And you know it. But me, when I screw up like that I rationalize for a day or so. Then I give myself shit for a day or so. Then I get on with it."

He tipped her teary face up so he could see it. "You like to start on the giving yourself shit sooner? Suit yourself." This was a big mistake, holding her like this. All he had to do was bend down and put his mouth on - forget it! One big mistake for the night was enough.

"Come on. I'll show you something." Joran led her to the center of the atrium where there was a fountain splashing into a pool, all softly lit in purples and blues. There was a cluster of wicker chairs and sofas. He carefully seated Mitra in a wicker chair with only room for one, and wrapped a big fluffy turquoise blanket around her.

Then Joran reached behind the love seat and pulled out his old beat-up lucky guitar. "I'll play for you. Anything you like that isn't mine but I'm likely to know." That should get her thinking.

Mitra did. At last she hesitantly suggested, "Beautiful Nights are Gone." It suited her mood.

"So you're one of Sinda's fans are you? Well, to be honest you got me there. I never liked that one well enough to learn it. Too mushy and mournful. How about 'Azuramer Goodbye'?" It was one of Sinda's all-time great 'I'm out of here' songs. "I even have better words."

"Clean ones?" Mitra asked warily.

"Of course not, but they're funny."

***

It was almost an hour before Dreen joined them. Rhea had wandered in about a half hour earlier and was sprawled on a rug staring at the stars.

"Are you still mad at me?" Mitra asked warily from her fluffy turquoise nest.

"No. Just tired. I've been talking to Ceb and taking care of a few things." Dreen had decided it was time to quit humoring Mitra and to end avoidance. Since Juttar was unavailable en route, he had asked Ceb if it was possible to watch the transcript of the interview with Durstin. Ceb had said that was fine, that Juttar already had a copy. So he had watched. The man's link to sanity was very tenuous, but there was no doubt Durstin and Mark arranged the accident. There was no direct mention of Klarak, but Ceb had the Interplanetary Judiciary put out a warrant to detain him for questioning.

Dreen slumped into a chair. "Would you play for me for a while too?"

*****

Chapter 71

Mitra went storming into the private elevator to Joran's apartment, letting herself in with his access code.

"Joran!"

"In here," came over the intercom.

"Where is here?" The apartment took up the entire top floor of his hotel.

"The atrium. Remember how to find it?"

"I'll get there."

Mitra found Joran stretched out naked on a padded bench while Rhea, dressed in a ruby red silk kimono, rubbed oil onto his back.

"Sorry. I'm interrupting." Mitra started to turn.

"Not at all, Pretty Lady." Joran turned his head towards her. "What can I do for you?"

"Cancel that pre-wedding party you are planning!"

Gemma had just tentatively broken the news to her that Joran had taken over planning for the wedding eve supper. Just when Mitra had thought she was doing so well keeping things toned down! The supper after the wedding was going to be at the restaurant where she and Dreen had had their first date, and it was going to be beautifully romantic. Mitra and the redhead hostess were now good friends and they'd had a wonderful time working out the details. It was not going to be as small as she had hoped, but at least it wasn't the several hundred her mother would have insisted on if the wedding had been on Plenata. Still, Mitra consoled herself that she had done well to firmly ignore Roween's displeasure because she wouldn't wait until dozens and dozens of friends and relatives could fly in, and that she had kept the plans very subdued.

And now this! Chelan explained that the tradition of the wedding eve supper being the groom's responsibility could be traced back to Terra. But Dreen was totally absorbed in getting Nemizcan back running the way he, not Chett, liked it. So of course Joran had taken over and Gemma was too sweet to argue with him. Well, she wasn't!

"What do you -" Joran started to roll on his side so it was easier to talk, but Rhea gave him a noisy slap with a cupped hand and he flopped back onto his belly.

"Sorry Mitra," Rhea apologized for Joran. "Joran and Arn are just alike. They have this total indifference to clothes. I think they'd both be happier as nudists." She filled the cupped hand with oil and moved down to work on a muscular thigh.

"Would not!" Joran said.

"Uh huh." Rhea was unconvinced.

"Clothes are sexy," Joran announced. "And taking them off someone is even sexier. Bare skin all the time would be a bore." He started to roll again. "So what's your problem \- Oof!" Rhea had shoved him back down again. "Lay off, Rhea!"

"Look Joran, if you want to get up and talk I'll get you your robe. You dropped it somewhere around here."

"MmmMmm." Joran stretched luxuriously. "I'll behave. Just don't stop what you're doing." He hadn't felt this good since he couldn't remember when.

Rhea laughed. "Then behave. What's the problem, Mitra? You aren't happy with the party plans? Nothing is totally set yet. You can change it."

"Good, because I really just want something quiet, not a circus." She was working hard on focusing on Joran's face and ignoring his glistening torso.

Joran was suddenly serious. "That's a really bad move, Pretty Lady. I've spent my life dealing with crowds, large ones and small ones. I know that everyone there will be your and Dreen's friends - well mostly," he amended. "But you've got too much a mixed bag. Not everyone is comfortable with everyone else. Like Sanja. I still can't get her to open her mouth when I'm around. Or Gemma and Roween when they're together. Your mom does all the talking and Gemma doesn't open her mouth, even though Gemma knew her way back." He deliberately did not mention the fact Dreen and C.C. were still very very icy since Mitra seemed totally oblivious to the fact. It would be even less tactful to remind Mitra that she had turned ghost white when Juttar walked in last night and hadn't even looked at him once, much less spoken to him or thanked him. The poor thing was obviously still freaked out over Drezvir.

Still, as far as Joran was concerned Juttar was a better second groomsman then Chett would have been. It was a really good thing Chett had had the sense to go to Pendrae and find excuses to stay there. He wondered if it was a good or bad thing that Jiane hadn't come with Juttar to see Dreen get married and finally close that part of their lives. But she was very pregnant with twins, and a lot of women wouldn't risk hyperspatial travel when they were pregnant.

"Keep things quiet and it is going to get really tense and awkward, and my guess is sooner rather than later. It's a lot better to keep everyone busy partying."

"But some of them aren't good at partying." Mitra was trying to reconcile what Joran's idea of what a good party was probably like with one of her mother's elegant suppers.

"So they can watch the rest of us. I'm good at partying, and so is C.C. For that matter, Dreen can get going pretty good if he lets himself relax. And SuperStud is the best partier I know." Joran grinned at a private memory.

"SuperStud! How does he come into my wedding eve party?"

"Well ..." Joran was temporarily uncomfortable. "It turns out that the Tamaran Octagla team already has the lounge I want booked that night for their pre-exhibition game party. It's the only lounge with the right stage for the bands I want."

"Bands?!" Mitra was aghast. Gemma hadn't told her anything about bands.

"Bands," Joran confirmed and smiled at her. "It's a really big lounge, so there's plenty of room for all of us. And Tamara is a great bunch of guys. Now, Mitra, I never thought I'd say this to you, but please go away. I want to roll over and let Rhea finished what she's doing, and I don't want an audience. So goodbye, okay?"

Mitra left, but about halfway to the elevator she thought of a couple good arguments to try. Bands? Tamara?! She hesitated. Should she risk disturbing Joran again?

Joran's voice floated out to her. "Galaxy, Rhea! You have incredible hands. Does Eli have any idea what kind of a fool he is?"

Mitra left.

*****

Chapter 72

Mitra had to admit that Joran was right. If she ignored all of her romantic images of a wedding eve, she liked a good party. And this was showing all of the signs of a good party; it was pure chaos. At the moment The Party Band was playing and a few people were reluctantly starting to go to tables and settle down so the restaurant staff could think about serving meals.

It had taken a while for her to realize that The Party Band was this band's name, not a description of them. Joran had said that for entertainment Johnny Sun would show up later in the evening, that Let Us, the women's band who had covered for him at that concert when the Anton band walked offstage would play too, and some kids that Dreen knew might play. Also Joran said he would sing. That had temporarily soured Mitra but he announced that Tessa was picking the song. So that should be relatively safe, and it was sweet of him. But the main entertainment would be The Party Band. After going in circles with the conversation, which she was quite sure was deliberate on Joran's part, he had relented and explained that The Party Band was the actual name of this band.

Mitra had said she had never heard of them, and Joran had said that wasn't surprising since they only did parties. Apparently they had started out as a club band, enjoying touring the galaxy cheaply, but they didn't have the energy and charisma for stadium concerts. At that time they'd had some clever name or other, and they might have stayed exactly what they were. But one night when a club manager finally decided that a good party or not, it was time to pack it in, a rich guy had asked the band if they would mind finishing the party off at his place. True artists, they had asked 'How much?'

The figure was three times what the club was paying so they had grinned and said sure. And that was that. The resulting party was legendary and people started asking how they could get hold of the party band. The band knew a good thing when they saw it. They enjoyed their music and playing crowds, not studio work, but they knew they would never be superstars. So they changed their name to The Party Band and acquired an incredible repertoire of covers, since for the kind of money they had started asking you did not tell your host or hostess you couldn't play their favorite song. Now instead of discount tickets and cheap portel rooms, they had their own Genie and knew more than any gossip columnist about the lifestyles of the rich and famous.

Pearl, the cute oriental girl who sang lead, finished her song. "I don't think anyone heard me. The chef wants to serve now, and your tummies will regret it if you upset the artiste." She patted her own minute waist. "So how about everybody sits down and we play soothing supper music." The rest of the band cut right into one of their most raucous numbers. Pearl turned with an exaggerated kill it swipe across her throat. To general laughter from the crowd she said, "Okay, let's try that again."

There were about thirty assorted musicians with tables by the stage. Now a voice came from the larger of Johnny Sun's tables. It was Hank, the band leader and a violinist. Like everyone with the Johnny Sun Band he was in formal dress.

"Pearl, supper music is more in our line. How about we do a shift? Besides, we've got to start earning our keep with Anton now."

Pearl's smile was radiant. "Does that mean you've all signed?"

"Legal documents were waiting for us when we got here!"

"Wonderful!" Then she hesitated, frowning. Although they did supper music all the time, she didn't mind Hank saying his band was better. They were. Besides, The Party Band's motto was Go With The Flow. But she hadn't seen Johnny Sun arrive. She gave the room another scan. "Is Johnny here yet?"

"Yes and no. We collected Sinda en route and they are officially having a nice private celebratory 'supper' upstairs." That got laughter, mostly from The Party Band and Johnny Sun's band. Those like Chelan who were totally unfamiliar with that on-and-off-again union had puzzled frowns.

"So it's anybody's guess when or if they show. So how about we back you and George?"

George was a lean tough looking guitar player who occasionally sang duets with Pearl. His voice was deep, mellow, and gentle in contrast to his looks.

"It would be an honor," George said and the bands started trading off. The crowd really did take the hint this time and headed for the tables.

"I suppose I should go sit down," Mitra said to Trevarr and Wayd. Trevarr had just introduced her to Superstud. He had flown some girlfriend in for the night, and Mitra vaguely recognized the tawny blonde from holovision. "Do you have any idea where Dreen has got himself to? He wandered off with Joran."

"Well ..." Wayd was the tallest in the group. "He's not with Joran now. Joran was talking to that young band, and now he's seated at your table."

"WinSome." Hidi supplied. As a celebrity reporter it was her business to know these things. She'd spent all of yesterday sorting out who these newcomers were.

Trevarr said, "I think I see him down at the far end with his mother." He turned to Wayd. "I'll see you after supper."

"You aren't eating together?" Mitra asked.

"No. I'm with the Octagla team like the rest of the clinic staff that worked with them." Trevarr nodded towards a cluster including Mai, her husband Rori, Coach Isley, and the team owner Marti. "Wayd is at the Nemizcan table with Gali and Keya."

"Well, that's on my way to collect Dreen," Mitra said. She slipped her arm through Wayd's. "Let's go."

*****

Chapter 73

"Come in. I'm decent." C.C. called in response to the tentative knock. He was standing examining his reflection in a mirror before joining Lilla and Tessa in the suite sitting room. The door opened and Tessa came in looking awkward and bony kneed in a dress. C.C. looked at her nervous face and said, "Don't you look pretty tonight! I love that color of green."

"Do I?" Tessa couldn't remember ever wearing a dress before. She didn't think she looked good at all, not like the women who wore dresses on holovision. And it felt funny, cold and drafty.

"You'll be the best looking young lady there." That wasn't too much of a fabrication since she'd probably be the only young person there. Joran had asked if he should invite Gali's kids for company for her, but Tessa was totally intimidated by them. So he had said it was a bad idea. All the same, C.C. didn't want to stretch the truth too far, so he asked, "Is Lilla ready yet?"

Tessa shook her head. "She's just kind of sitting there, not doing anything. And I'm getting hungry," she added plaintively.

C.C. was inclined to side with Tessa. They were running late. "How about I go see if I can hurry her up?" That got him an uncertain look. "You can check on Darwin's vital signs for me while I do that. That was what I was going to do next."

The first thing he had done on arrival was to return the hibernating Darwin to his Pikkant colony. But C.C. wanted to monitor him to make sure the hyperspatial travel hadn't disrupted his biorhythms too much.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Tessa was worried. "All the rest of the colony was sleeping and we just left him in one of their little homes."

"I think it'll be fine. They'll be surprised to see him, that's all. They'll find out when they wake-up midwinter. They do that. They harvest, stuff themselves, hibernate for a while, wake up, eat most of the supplies they put away, then sleep again until spring. But we'll keep an eye on him. You go check."

***

Lilla heard the door of her bedroom open and started to turn, "Oh, Tessa, will you go tell C.C. -"

"Tell me what?" C.C. asked, but he had a pretty good idea from her posture.

Lilla nervously stood up. "Oh! C.C...." Her voice trailed off.

She looked incredibly lovely, C.C. thought. Her pale blonde hair was hanging straight, and she was wearing the dark green silk sheath he had talked her into letting him buy for her. Lilla hadn't been comfortable with that, but there hadn't been much of a choice. The matron of honor's dress Mitra had bought for her had to be saved for the wedding. And the very few items of clothing she owned other than Guild coveralls would have been embarrassing to wear at this kind of party. So he had taken mother and daughter shopping and got both of them green dresses. Her only makeup was a touch of rose lipstick. C.C. suspected that was because Lilla wasn't competent applying more than that. But he liked the resulting effect. She looked rather sweet.

"Tell me what, Lilla?" C.C. asked again.

Lilla said apologetically, "I'm sorry C.C., I just can't go down."

"Stage fright?" C.C. asked. "You don't have to worry you know. Between all of the acts Joran has laid on, and Mitra being center stage you can just sit and watch the show." It was likely to be quite a show too. C.C. was really looking forward to a good party after Drezvir.

"Yes..." Lilla fingered her dress nervously. C.C. had been so good to her and Tessa, getting them here, then helping out when it was all so foreign she couldn't do anything right, not even run a cater unit so they could eat. The ones in the suite here were so fancy she just stood and stared. Should she lie and tell him she had a headache, she felt unwell, she had to rest for tomorrow? She didn't want to lie to C.C. though.

C.C. had been watching her face. He came a little closer. "You don't have to tell me Lilla, but you know you can if you want to."

"It's just that I've been thinking of Blayne. What would he think of all this?" She waved an arm at the room.

Her room alone was larger than their apartment in the habitat. And some of the rooms in the suite were so grand. And the way they squandered water! Lilla realized intellectually looking out the window at the lake that they had water to squander, but that didn't change the fact that the bathroom was just plain sinful. Water simply was a luxury everywhere in the Farr Sector. Even on Estoff with their incredible reservoirs every drop was accounted for because any surplus was exported to other planets like Drezvir. If Mitra and Joran hadn't decided coping with the different culture would be easier with C.C. in the same suite, she and Tessa would be huddled in some little corner afraid to move.

"He'd be glad you had a chance to come. And," C.C. grinned, "he would probably be overawed like you are." He truly could not imagine her dead husband on Gingezel, or anywhere more luxurious than the most basic space station portel room. He said gently, "You aren't ready for a night out yet, are you?" It wasn't really a question.

"I'm sorry C.C. Tessa and I can have dinner up here. Go down and enjoy yourself." She knew he had really been looking forward to the night.

C.C. hesitated. In his mind he was hearing a skinny little girl in a green dress two shades lighter than her mother's saying 'I'm hungry'. Tessa had talked about nothing but the party for two days. The fact she could see live bands was the most exciting part to her. And when Joran had said he would get up on stage and sing a song just for her she had gone all shy like Lilla did, but you could tell how excited she was. Joran would sing for her too, and get a kick out of it. He had taken a liking to Tessa. He said it amused him the way he she kind of hummed, kind of whistled through the gap in her teeth.

"Lilla, let Tessa have her night out. You and I'll have supper here." She obviously should not be alone, and if Joran was recovering there would be plenty more parties.

"But -"

"You know how she's been looking forward to this. I'll just take her down now before she misses her supper. You don't have to worry about her. I'll tell my parents to look after her when supper is over, and to bring her back when she gets tired. And I'll make sure Niki sits beside her and keeps an eye on her supper. He may not look like it, but he's good with children."

With a reassuring smile C.C. headed for the door, then paused. "And please order me some food from the kitchens. I'm hungry too." That would keep Lilla busy and talking to a person. He knew the cater unit terrified her.

Lilla watched the disappearing back and shook her head. C.C. had been talking her into things since she set foot on his space yacht. She simply didn't know how to say no to him. He meant well, she was sure, but he was very disruptive. Oh well. She went to study the menu. He was very good to Tessa, and Tessa really had been wanting to hear the music. She had spent most of the day listening to Joran and other artists, wondering who she would hear. And C.C. could go down later. No doubt the party would run half the night.

***

"Are we finally going?" Tessa turned as she heard C.C. come back into the living room. She had been carefully studying the monitor, watching Darwin's respiration and pulse. Now she had an expectant smile on her lips. She didn't want to miss anything and she was hungry.

"Your mother doesn't feel up to going."

"Oh." Tessa turned quickly back to the monitor. "Darwin is fine. Everything is just the way you showed me it should be."

C.C. came to stand behind her, putting a hand on her bony shoulder. "But you are going. Lilla and I will need someone to tell us what happened."

Oh! But -" Tessa was confused and alarmed. She turned. "Are you staying too?"

"I'm having supper with your mother."

Somehow Tessa didn't like that, but she wasn't sure why. She let that pass and focused on the much more real problem. "I'm supposed to go there alone?" Her eyes were huge and terrified.

"Of course not, silly." C.C. gave her an affectionate little shake. "I'll walk down with you, right to your table. Mitra will be there, and Joran, and Niki. And you like my mother don't you?"

Cautiously Tessa nodded. Beti was kind and quiet.

"Well, I'll ask her to take special care of you, and whenever you want to come back she will walk up with you and we'll all have a little drink of juice." C.C. was not exactly getting the enthusiastic response he expected. He studied Tessa's face."You know you can stay up here in the suite too. We can have a real nice supper, the three of us. We can sample the next ice cream flavor." He was helping Tessa to work through all of the flavors she had never had before, which was the entire list except strawberry. "I just thought you wanted to go down."

She had. Somehow knowing they weren't getting rid of her helped. Tessa said cautiously, "Do you really think Joran will sing for me?"

"For sure. If he said he will, he will." When he wasn't stoned, Joran's word was good. "Have you decided what you want him to sing?" Tessa had been agonizing over this all day.

"No." She sighed. "I've got it down to two but I just can't decide."

"So ask him for them both."

"C.C.!" Tessa giggled. Unlike her mother she was getting to be a pretty good judge of when C.C. was teasing.

"That's better. Let's go then, or you'll miss supper and starve."

*****

Chapter 74

"And there," Joran said nodding towards the door, "is walking proof there is hope in love for every man."

Bojo was standing in the doorway looking about as happy as a man could.

Brys was standing beside him, her arm through his. She was perfectly groomed and wearing the same little black dress she had worn to the concert. This time she had extremely high heeled sandals to show off her anklet. At her neck was the necklace Joran had given her. She looked just a smidge self-conscious and wobbly.

"Mrail?" Mitra recognized him now, so her question was rhetorical. All her attention was on the stunning blonde. "Who is she?"

Dreen was staring as hard as she was. "Brys?" It was barely a whisper. Intellectually Dreen accepted the fact Brys and Bojo were espoused and had told himself he would have to remember to congratulate them the first time he saw them. But he was totally unprepared for the transformation in Brys.

"Wow! Look at her!"

"You said it," Joran agreed with a grin. He had deliberately not warned Dreen so he could watch the look on his face when he first saw Brys. Stunned was the closest description he could come up with.

"Excuse me." Dreen pushed his chair back and rose, heading for the couple.

A quiet smile of welcome was on Bojo's face, and Brys was beaming with pure delight at the sight of Dreen. She had honestly been afraid she and Vennbir would fail and she would never see him again.

"How do I thank you for everything, Bojo?" Dreen had no intentions of underestimating Bojo's part in the takeover. And he still felt terrible at the near disaster when the reworked albums were discovered to have been altered to mask voices.

Bojo looked mildly embarrassed as he shook Dreen's hand. "It's good to see you in the flesh and safe."

Dreen turned his attention to Brys. "And I don't even know where to start thanking you, Brys. If you hadn't been so brilliant -" the smile temporarily left his face as he thought of the alternative.

"Don't think about it," Brys said firmly. "You're celebrating tonight."

Dreen's smile returned. "And I understand congratulations are in order to the two of you."

"And to you. We came back early to not miss the wedding." Brys was beaming again.

To Dreen's intense amusement, she stepped forward and kissed his cheek. Brys certainly had been learning the social graces in a hurry. He looked at Bojo who was beaming his approval and wondered if he just praised Brys when she did the right things, or gave her formal lessons.

Brys stepped back. "So has anyone missed me at work?" She expected 'no one has' as the answer.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Someone really took the system out, and even with Leeth unofficially contributing his ideas, Vennbir and Gali can't figure out how to prevent it happening again." Leeth was already in the process of getting clearance to work on the project.

"Leeth?" Brys asked.

"One of our two hackers is identified. He said you would recognize him as Plantman."

"Plantman ..." Brys assessed this revelation.

With this obviously going to be more than a few minutes conversation, the man standing slightly behind Bojo put a hand on Bojo's arm. "I'll go talk to Joran."

Bojo nodded. "Good luck!"

***

"Who is she?" Mitra repeated her question. Dreen had said something before he left but she hadn't caught it.

"Brys," Joran said as though the name was self-explanatory.

"Brys?" Mitra had this feeling she should be able to place the name, but it wasn't ringing bells. She watched as the beautiful woman kissed Dreen.

"Dreen's hacker." Joran deliberately did not mention that she was espoused to Bojo. They were trying to minimize the publicity on that, and while he was reasonably sure Bojo wouldn't mind Mitra knowing, this was a very public place. He would tell her later.

"Dreen's hacker?" Mitra said it very very carefully but no one paid attention because at that moment the couple standing behind Brys and Bojo stepped forward.

"That's Kit!" From Tessa it was a squeal. She had discovered him midmorning and rather guiltily spent two hours listening to him instead of Joran. From Sanja it was more of a purr.

Joran lost interest in Brys and focussed on watching the two ecstatic faces at his table. Now that was a really interesting split demographic, in age, background, and income. If these two were typical, it was quite possible that Bojo knew what he was talking about.

"Who is that with him?" Sanja asked.

Rhea was staring. "Jeena?"

Joran nodded.

"Jeena! Jeena!" Rhea was up and waving.

"Jeena? Is that the lady in the song?" Tessa demanded. She didn't look at all special. Her hair was plain brown and she was more ordinary than pretty.

"That's right, sweetie," Rhea said.

Niki was looking at Jeena with totally different eyes. He was seeing the way she walked, her smile, the look in her eyes when she looked at Kit. There was something special there all right.

Rhea noticed him. "Watch him Sanja. He's drooling."

Niki wasn't at all embarrassed. "How often do I get to see a woman who has inspired a love song?" That didn't sound quite right, given M's song, so he amended, "One I'm not related to that is."

That got him a dirty look from the Mitra. Please. Joran don't sing that song. Niki, don't give him ideas!

***

Mikey was quite pleased with his seat. He could see the stage, most of the room, and the door. He was watching the girl band, Let Us. They had gone onstage when the meal was about half over to give Johnny Sun's guys a chance to eat. Mikey had been working on his meal, but the fact they were going on stage for the next set with Joran and the whole Tamara Octagla team in the audience was on his mind. So his appetite wasn't the best; being just plain scared had never helped it.

A motion at the door caught his eye. Mrail. Was the whole galaxy going to show up for this 'informal debut with a few friends' they were having? With their luck Johnny Sun and Sinda would show up while they were on stage. He turned to the band. "Mrail just showed up."

There was an exchange of nervous looks, then the guys went back to watching Let Us with definitely more than professional interest. They realized they ranked below the Octagla team, but they might be able to use the fact they were fellow musicians to their advantage. Mikey watched Mrail.

"Terrific," he muttered under his breath instantly recognizing the man who was talking to Mrail.

"Huh?" Kanji the drummer asked. The little black on the drums was really something and he wished Mikey would just shut up. He was making him nervous. Kanji loved the way she scowled on a tricky roll, and she was singing away but there was no pickup on her voice, so it was probably lousy like his. That had to give them something in common, didn't it? He might try talking to her when the Party Band did another set. He doubted he would have much luck though. Larr had been chatting her up all night, and she obviously liked it.

"The competition just walked in the door."

"Mrail isn't competition. He's out of our league." Kanji wasn't taking his eyes off the cute drummer.

"What about Kit?"

"Shit!" The lady drummer was forgotten and Kanji and the rest of the band turned to watch Kit walk across to where Joran was sitting.

"Can you see anyone else outside? I mean, is it just Kit, or is the Also Ran band there as well?"

"I think just Kit. Isn't that bad enough?" Mikey asked. He got a consensus of tense nods. "I think I feel sick."

***

"Jeena!" Rhea gave her a bear hug. "I thought I'd never see you again. Where were you hiding yourself?"

"Nowhere you'd know. The Farr Sector."

"Wrong. I did some runs to Drezvir for Joran for Dreen and Mitra. If you'd been reasonable and not dropped out like that, I could have visited you."

"So, who's reasonable?" Jeena laughed. It was good to see Rhea again.

The reception Kit was getting was considerably less enthusiastic. Joran stood up, extended his hand, and said, "Hello Kit. What are you doing here?" The question was aggressive, not welcoming.

"I'm sorry if I'm party crashing," Kit said politely, watching Joran's face carefully. "Bojo said it was a good chance to see WinSome. He's wondering if I could do a guest cut on their album, strengthen it a bit. But I can always hear them another time."

"I see." Joran's face was a mask. He had already decided the album would have a guest cut, but he had planned on it being himself, not Kit. He and Bojo were going to have another one of those little talks! Still, the business part of his brain said, 'Be fair. Kit is the better candidate for their demographic.'

Joran said evenly, "Fair enough. I'd like them to get a strong launch, so if you can work with them, it might be interesting."

Kit gave him a shrewd look. "Planning on using yourself? No offense, Joran. You're the best. But the kids who will buy WinSome don't like you. You're their parent's music."

That stung. Joran gave Kit a cold look. "So, get up on stage and prove you're the right one. Then, we can discuss your moving to that 'parent's' demographic. If you're wanting to try that, you'll need a little bolstering too."

"I know," Kit said candidly. "All my material so far has been juvenile."

"Except Jeena's Gone." Joran corrected.

"Yes." Kit was wary, not sure where this was going.

"So let's re-record it. You and me."

Kit stared. Joran wanted to to record with him? "But -" he stopped cold, then braced himself. "I wrote it Joran, so I know. It won't work with your voice."

Joran suddenly grinned. "Tell me about. Even being in the shower doesn't help."

Kit stared. "That was a test?" Then it hit him. "You liked it enough to try it?"

"It's a good song." And Kit had passed the test. He wasn't jumping for money. He cared how his work sounded and he stood up for himself. Joran had always had the impression the situation was the opposite, he would sing anything with anybody for the right price. Maybe he was just territorial about Jeena's Gone since he wrote it. If so, that boded well for the future. If he were to move to the AntonCorp label he would have to write a lot of his own material.

Joran continued, "But as we've agreed, it's not for me. So suggest one you think we can sing together. Exclude your work, anything I wrote even if someone has covered it, and anything of Johnny's or Bojo's."

The next test. Instinctively Kit took a look at Bojo. A warning and time to think would have helped.

Joran followed the glance. "No, he couldn't have warned you. If Bojo has thought of who else could go on your album, he's bound to have been thinking of a sexy duet with a woman. He won't have thought of me at all because he knows I don't like you."

Kit's face was as impassive as Joran's. So it's up the pressure a notch and see if I squirm time is it? He said, "This may take a bit."

"Take your time." Joran did not resume his seat or offer Kit one of the vacant chairs at the table. Given the way the hugging reunion between Rhea and Jeena was going, he would get saddled with the pair for the rest of the night. He had no intentions of spoiling a nice evening that way. He stood there watching Kit as he went over a mental playlist, sometimes frowning, once almost grinning and shaking his head.

At last Kit raised his eyes to Joran. "How about Maiden Fern?"

Joran's impassivity broke. He stared, incredulous. "Why did you pick that?"

It wasn't that it wouldn't suit both of their voices. It would. They would sound fantastic. It was simply that it was pretty much the last song in the galaxy he would have thought would appeal to Kit. He wouldn't have even thought he knew it. It was new, less than two months old, and it was by a woman singer-songwriter who was thought of as a woman's composer. She had never been even vaguely mainstream. It was a lovely song though and he knew every phrase of it two days after it was released.

Score one for me, Kit thought, but he did not make the mistake of gloating. He said simply, "I haven't got your talent Joran. My albums will never have more than half my own compositions. So I've been thinking about what I want to record that isn't mine. From that list, Maiden Fern is the best duet for our voices."

"And the idea that almost had you laughing?"

Kit just shook his head. "Well?" It was a challenge. "Do you know Maiden Fern?"

"Yes. This is a friendly audience. Let's go on stage and see how it sounds."

"Right now?" Kit was used to rehearsing heavily before he faced an audience.

"No. The girls can finish their set."

Kit looked at the bands, wondering which might know the song. Not the Party Band for sure. Probably not Let Us either. Johnny Sun's band?

Joran followed his look. "None of them will know it. For some reason Johnny doesn't like her stuff."

Kit's eyes moved on to the table where the Anton Band was sitting. Bernie and Laurence were watching them with interest, and Paulo had turned his chair around so he could watch too. When Kori saw him looking, she transferred her attention to her plate, but she had obviously been watching the exchange. Only Uth was cheerfully focussed on eating what until now had looked like a delicious chicken and rice casserole to Kit. He rather suspected that now he was starting to understand how Bojo felt, and he wondered just how hard Joran would laugh if he did a bolt and run for the toilets.

Joran saw Kit looking at the Anton Band. "No bail outs, Kit. Let's see if you can sing. We'll do it a cappella."

To hell with humoring Joran. That was insane. They rarely even spoke to each other, and they were going to get up there and do a demanding song a cappella?

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kit said firmly.

"You aren't signed yet, Kit. Either we can work together, or we don't sign you. You chicken?"

"I don't like sounding lousy, if that's what you mean. And," he added looking straight at Joran, "I'm not worried about me. I've been working on the song."

"I can out-sing you on anything, so don't worry!" It was not the bantering tone he used with Johnny Sun.

*****

Chapter 75

"You mean Vennbir is really here?!" Brys started scanning the room and spotted him. There he is, beside Keya." She tugged at Bojo's elbow. "Come on!"

"I'll join you later. It looks like Kit needs rescuing."

"Why?" Brys gave a cursory glance at the two men. "You knew they would fight." She gave Bojo's face more than a cursory glance. "Okay. Go try to sort out your friends, but you'll just end up in the middle and neither will thank you."

Dreen said, "How about I divert Joran and you clear - Kit is it?- out."

Bojo grinned. "I take it you don't know any screaming fourteen to eighteen-year-old girls. He's Kit of Also Ran."

"Just Keya's, and they're a bit young for that."

"Don't count on it."

***

"Vennbir! I can't believe it's you, not an image!"

No one else had risen from their meal when Brys approached, but Vennbir felt obliged to, being singled out like that. The minute he did Brys gave him a hearty hug, not a handshake or a social kiss that just missed his cheek. She let go, stepped back, pushed the hair out of his eyes, then hugged him again. "We did it! And now you're real. I can touch you and smell you."

"I pass the test I hope." His eyes were sparkling. "You sure do. What is it you smell like?"

"Glorious," Brys said.

"I agree. Does that mean you won't tell me?"

"That's the name. How long have you been here?"

"A couple days. Evrit has been showing a provincial guy like me the ropes for a classy place like Gingezel." He pointed at his chair. "Sit down, I'll get another."

"No thank you, we're sitting with the bands."

"We're sitting with the bands." Vennbir made a face at Evrit. "Is she always putting you in your place too, or is it just me?"

Evrit just grinned. He hadn't expected to like Vennbir at all, but now he wished he had been here for the whole project. He had missed having a guy to lunch with, and Vennbir had him doing more extra things in these last two days than he had all stay. They'd gone swimming and watched the girls on the beach. They'd walked around the harbor and checked out the outdoor cafés to see which attracted the best girls. And yesterday evening they had hiked up the escarpment because Vennbir wanted to see the bay from high up. And it was such a relief that Vennbir didn't prefer to work night shifts, although that would probably change now Evrit thought sourly. Personally he was glad Brys couldn't join them. They'd been having a good time watching Let Us and discussing each Octagla player in detail. The season opening exhibition game had been last night between Terra and Pendrae at Pendrae. They'd watched it together after their hike, and Pendrae looked really strong. Tamara was going to have a tough year, especially with Roban and Maras not starting the season.

Brys was hurt by the crack from Vennbir, and it showed. "Vennbir, you know I'd never put you down." Her voice was soft, her eyes troubled.

They were not going that direction Vennbir told himself firmly. Not tonight with her looking that amazing, not tonight with Mrail half a room away. Not ever. Well... Anyways, not tonight. He said briskly, "I was teasing, Brys. If you can't join us, go get something to eat and I'll see you later. Are you coming to work?" If she was he would stay up.

Brys brightened. "Dreen said one of the hackers is Plantman."

Vennbir nodded. "He's really good. But even with his having figured out all those ways to take out the system, he can't figure out how to protect us from an attack like the other hacker did while you were gone."

"We'll get it sorted out now that we know there were two hackers!"

"Don't look so optimistic. It isn't that simple and we do have to protect the system. The first part of brilliant Evrit here's dynamic firewall may be our saving grace. But how do we implement it yesterday!"

"I'll be in around 2:00 AM or so," Brys promised.

***

Brys still was uncomfortable alone in a crowd of strangers although Bojo kept telling her how safe Gingezel was. She was halfway to the safety of Bojo's table when Maras rose laboriously to his feet.

"Hello, Brys."

She waited patiently as he slowly limped over. It took a while, but his gait looked more natural. "Hi, Maras. You're sure walking better than when I left."

That got Brys a beaming smile. "Think so?" He'd been feeling down all night because the team were leaving him behind for a couple weeks. Roban weren't right yet, but they was taking him. That had Maras wondering if he were getting cut from first string.

"For sure."

"All the same, gotta stay longer. So I were wondering. Since you're back and it's still hot, you wanna sit in the lake again?" As Maras got the long speech out, he was studying her bare pearlized shoulders. Now he reached out and touched one. "That looks kinda funny, Brys. You still got problems from the sunburn?" Then he inspected his black finger. Now it were white and shiny too. He frowned.

Brys are blushed. "That's makeup, Maras."

"Then you can put on sunscreen and come out with me?" Maras asked hopefully.

He really was a sweet man, Brys decided of Octagla's toughest enforcer. "Sure Maras, but tomorrow is the wedding. How about the next day?"

"Real good. I'll call you before you quit work for the night then. You wanna have breakfast?" That would be real good.

"Thanks Maras, that would be nice." He was sweet, and shy, and lonely. Brys knew all about that. She stretched as high as she could and kissed his cheek. "I've got to go eat now."

With a satisfied grunt and a nod Maras turned and laboriously plodded back to his seat. Sitting in the lake like that with Brys were real good. She didn't talk a lot.

He was totally oblivious to the look on Daron's face. Superstud couldn't believe it. Maras had just had the nerve to try to pick up Bojo's spouse, right in front of Bojo. Something he would never have had the nerve to do in a dozen lifetimes, even though Brys really had the looks. And he had succeeded.

***

Mitra watched Brys's progress as Dreen returned smiling, still looking half stunned to the table.

Dreen shook his head in wonder. "Brys!"

Joran grinned. "Not bad, huh?"

"Not bad? I'd say incredible."

Dreen never called her incredible. Mitra frowned. This was the little hacker who was so bright Dreen couldn't follow what she had done to sort out the Drezvir problem? Mitra was prepared to accept that fact. She had gone out to the spaceport with Dreen to meet Vennbir and there was no doubt how good he was. She had assumed Brys was like him, a cute, shy kid in jeans and a T-shirt. But this woman could be a model. The men were falling all over her too, and she obviously preferred the really creepy type like Mrail and Maras.

"Why didn't you tell me what Brys was like?" Mitra asked. Dreen's expression had not been lost on her.

Dreen considered telling her that this was not Brys, and that was why he was so surprised. But by the look on her face, he didn't have a chance of flying the truth.

He had to think of something, anything, plausible to say that might be believed before she got really upset.

"Careful, Dreen. Little sister has her claws out." Niki hadn't been able to see much from where he sat, and to be honest he had been busy eavesdropping on Joran and Kit. Now he turned around to watch Bojo carefully seating Brys at the table by the stage where the rest of the Anton Band was. "Nice, very nice," he said judiciously.

"Come on, Pretty Lady," Joran teased. "You can't expect Dreen's employees to all be male or over sixty-five or ugly." He added thoughtfully, "Not that Lindy probably won't still be fantastic in her seventies."

"Thanks," Dreen muttered and gave Joran an exasperated look. For some reason Mitra and Lindy weren't hitting it off all that well.

"I don't." Mitra's tone was pure ice. "All I want to know about is this one since you were together on Gingezel for months before I got here and you never mentioned her."

Dreen was suddenly acutely uncomfortable. He had never talked about Brys when they were on Gingezel because he had never thought about her other than as an employee. Now though he had the sinking feeling that that explanation wasn't going to go over at all without a real scene. He hated public scenes.

"Well?"

The caustic tone suddenly cut through Joran's amusement. Mitra wasn't just joining in the teasing and giving Dreen a bad time. She was jealous as hell. He couldn't believe it.

It hit Niki about the same time. "Come on Sis, what's up? What have you got your claws into this one for?" The girl had been pretty enough, but so what? Even if there had been something going between Brys and Dreen, which he sincerely doubted, there was no doubt who had Dreen's full attention now and for forever.

"Why have I got my claws into this one?" She rounded on Niki. "Don't you have eyes? Can't -"

"Hey, Pretty Lady!" Joran interrupted her by grabbing one of the waving hands in his. He was truly concerned. He had been teasing, not making trouble. He shook Mitra's hand, not gently and turned her towards him. "Mitra." It was stern.

Mitra stopped open mouthed and stared. Joran never used her name and he had never used a tone like this with her.

He kept hold of her hand and held her eyes. "Listen to me, Mitra. I was here every day that Dreen was. There was nothing, I repeat nothing, going on. I'm not stupid about that kind of thing and I know Dreen inside out. I'm sorry. I thought you could take a little teasing."

She didn't look too receptive to the apology and he suddenly felt sorry for Dreen. The little idiot couldn't expect him to have had no relationships before her could she? The pressure on her hand was gentler now. "Come on, Mitra. I mean it. This one isn't part of Dreen's romantic past. But you can't expect him to not have had one."

Mitra smiled at the absurdity of that. She couldn't believe Dreen hadn't had a longer queue of interested women than Niki. The thing she couldn't understand was why he had settled on her.

"No. I'm sorry, Joran." She turned to Dreen at her other side. "Sorry Dreen, it's just her -" she looked towards the stage-side table where the girl and Bojo were laughing at something. The girl bent forward almost spilling out of her dress. Mitra couldn't help it. Her stomach was in a knot again and it showed.

Dreen, Joran, and Niki exchanged totally confused looks. This was not the way tonight, the night before the wedding was supposed to be going, but they didn't have the slightest what was wrong. Three sets of male eyes turned first to Sanja, then to Rhea hoping for female insight.

Sanja gave them a little smile and an apologetic shrug. Mitra obviously had a jealous streak. But if Niki had no idea what triggered it, she was even less likely to know. To her the girl had been a pretty blonde. Nothing to get excited about. She had been much more interested in seeing Mrail. She adored his playing and had been hoping later she might ask to be introduced, if she could think of some way that wasn't embarrassing that was.

Rhea echoed Sanja shrug. So what, Brys was Brys.

Joran decided to try again. After all, it was his fault. "Hey Pretty Lady. What's special about Brys?"

*****

Chapter 76

"What's special about her? Look at her!" All heads obediently swiveled, and if her voice got much louder, most of the lounge would follow suit. Dreen looked around uncomfortably. If her brother wasn't here, he'd shush her a bit. But he wasn't sure how Niki would take it. Maybe they were all loud when they were excited. Some families were.

"To start with -"

"Hey! Hold it down." Niki had no such sensitivities. "You want the whole place to listen?" He turned to Dreen at her side apologetically. "She was born with a great set of lungs. None of us slept much for a year. She has fine tuned it making herself heard by a crew at the other end of the reactor hall. Claims sometimes there's interference on voice units."

Joran said judiciously, "Good pitch and breath control. There would be no trouble carrying to the end of an auditorium without a sound system. But I agree, it's not for the lounge."

Mitra was sure she was scarlet to her hairline. "Thanks, Niki. I needed that." But she pitched her voice low and soft.

"No problem." He waved a negligent hand.

You are going to pay for that sometime, Niki Kael, Joran thought to himself. He turned back to Mitra. "So what is going on with Brys?"

"Everything!" Mitra exploded, but quietly. "She's perfect. Start with that dress. I would swear it was a Neselli original." She turned to Sanja for confirmation.

"I've never seen one other than on holovision, but I would think so with that cross over at the waist and the uneven hemline. Gorgeous."

"And," Mitra continued acidly, "that would set her back one hell of a lot more than I make a year. That's not even including that jewelry. Do you pay those kinds of salaries, Dreen, or is she rich and just working for fun?" And until now she had treasured the simple shawl she was wearing. Right. He gives other women Neselli.

Dreen suddenly felt sick and it showed.

Mitra took that as confirmation of her suspicions. And she had been so sure Dreen was different, not like Mark with someone else at the same time as her. Love blind? "I see," she said quietly, feeling sick herself.

Dreen didn't hear or see her. He was thinking about Brys and the dress. One dress could cost more than Mitra would make a year? He looked at the couple by the stage, no longer amused. "No. I do not pay that much." He turned to Joran. "And I am very sorry about Bojo, but if that little hacker has been funding herself to look pretty for him, she's finished."

But Joran was grinning. "Don't stress yourself out Dreen. By the way, I take it our young friend is, shall we say, capable of being creative?" He made it sound like a compliment.

"Yes. That's one way to put it." Dreen did not make it sound like a compliment.

"Good for her. But this time Bojo, or I suppose I should say Bojo and I got the dress. You see, she had nothing to wear to the concert, and Bojo just wanted to make her feel really special for once in her life. You know, dress her up, show her a good time. Galaxy that woman is thrifty. I think if you didn't have her on a per diem and insist she use it, she still wouldn't be eating properly."

He had learned rather a lot about Brys since she started spending time with Bojo, the poverty she came from on Ennup 10, the family she tried to support. "But Bojo doesn't know the first thing about that kind of women's stuff. So he came to me. I remembered that Maillie went to Neselli when she wanted to feel real special, so I called him up. The result was that dress." He added proprietorially, "I think it turned out pretty good."

"Wonderful," Sanja breathed.

Niki was watching her with amusement and speculation. He had never heard of Neselli, but obviously his stuff was part of female culture. And by the look on Bojo's face, he might have just stumbled onto a good thing if he could afford to buy anything of his for Sanja. He would have to ask Joran how you got in touch with Neselli. He doubted he was available to just anyone on the hyperweb.

Dreen was less happy. He was intensely relieved Brys wasn't funding a new lifestyle from who knew where. But while he was no more familiar with the name Neselli then Niki was, he was pretty sure given Mitra's passion for clothes and her competitive streak this was not going to help her warm to Brys.

It didn't. "Fine. Men give her Neselli dresses." She was so glad it hadn't been Dreen though, and felt guilty for thinking it could have been. Guilt did not improve her mood.

"So?" Joran challenged. "I gave you three nightgowns, and they were Neselli too by the way. But I told him to leave the label off since I wasn't sure how the cleaning staff on Drezvir would take them being designer. You didn't exactly refuse them."

"Joran gave -" Niki started but Sanja pressed his knee and gave him a dirty look.

Mitra was scarlet again. "They were..." She trailed off, stunned. Neselli nightgowns? She'd got used to them on Drezvir, treated them as every day and was just glad they were warm. Hell, she'd even forgotten those nightgowns were a gift from Joran.

"Hey, if you're jealous about a dress, that's easy to fix." Joran continued, "Do what I do if I find some guy has something I'm jealous of - a nice space yacht say. Go out and buy one better." He smiled at Mitra. "It's too late for a Neselli wedding dress, but have Dreen get you a honeymoon present." That kind of extravagance was definitely not Dreen's style, but Joran expected right now he'd do almost anything. "Not that there is anything wrong with the dress you are wearing. I love the way you look." Joran was sincere. It was throat high at the front, waist low at the back, and his favorite shade of turquoise.

"I am not jealous of a dress!"

"Okay, then what is it?"

"It - it's just that everything that is wrong with me is right with her."

Joran's eyebrows rose a fraction, but all he did was ask mildly enough, "Such as?"

"If you really want to know, starting at the top, there's the fact that the top of her is a decent height above the ground. A man won't have to double up to kiss her, or get a crick in his neck. Then there's her hair." She sighed looking at the thick wavy cascade down Brys's back. "First off, it's a wonderful blonde look, all various shades like that. And," as Joran looked about to open his mouth, "don't tell me a good beautician can fix that if that's my problem. I've tried it. Short of also bleaching my eyebrows and lashes and wearing too much makeup, with my coloring blonde looks terrible. By the way," she added vindictively, "her hair isn't naturally like that either.

"But it's the length mostly." She sighed. She was still very touchy about the fact she'd had to cut her hair off again on Drezvir. "I mean, I don't purposely wear it short, but even at its best mine doesn't work below shoulder length. It's so fine it just hangs there in limp strings. It's best between ear and shoulder length and sort of curly." She paused and took another look at Brys.

"Then, there are her eyes, they are that lovely blue that is almost gray that some blondes have. And they have a wonderful blurry bedroom look. You know," she added seriously, "like you've just woken up and aren't quite here."

Dreen resisted the temptation to say that was probably the case. For Brys being around at this time of the evening was for most people like being woken up at 5:00 AM. Somehow he didn't think it would help if he admitted he knew Brys's sleeping habits.

"Then moving down." Having started this Mitra was determined to finish. "She has a figure. A wonderful full figure, all soft and curves. Look at her cleavage. And legs, there are kilometers of them right down to the strappy sandals." She turned to Joran. "Is that list sufficient?" she asked acidly.

Joran's eyes met Dreen and they shook their heads in wonder. When she got things wrong, she got things wrong.

"Oh Mitra ..." Dreen began softly.

But Mitra wasn't listening to him. All of her attention was on Joran. If he had forced her into that humiliating list, he was damned well going to answer her.

"I asked you if that list is sufficient." She was getting angry again.

"Oh Mitra," he echoed Dreen's tone. "Don't you realize that everything you listed as wrong with you is right?" By the look on her face she definitely did not. He shook his head. "Pretty Lady, you need straightening out."

Before Mitra realized what he intended, Joran reached out and traced the line of her shoulder to her neck, then ran his hand up into the just growing out hair, tangling his fingers in it. Then quite deliberately he tipped her head back and bent forward and down to kiss her. It was definitely not a casual friend's kiss. It was soft and exploring. For just a moment his tongue touched her lower lip.

Just as Mitra was deciding to do something undignified, like squirm or more likely kick him if he tried that tongue stunt again, he let her go. Mitra found herself lost in a pair of dark eyes she couldn't make herself stay angry at.

Joran took a deep breath, and looked at Dreen. There was nothing teasing in Joran's eyes now. They were slightly cautious, but mostly they had that soft pleading 'please understand me' look he realized Dreen must know too well by now. Their eyes met for a long moment. Joran decided Dreen had his 'okay, you're pushing it, but let's see where it goes' look on. At least he hoped so. Otherwise he was in deep trouble. He didn't have the slightest intention of looking at Mitra's brother, or Juttar.

Returning his focus to Mitra, Joran said, "That was so you know where I'm coming from. The next bit is for Dreen so I have a reasonable chance of living till morning."

Joran smiled and looked across Mitra's head to Dreen. There wasn't the faintest hint of an answering smile. Definitely not good. Well, he'd started it. He'd better finish. Mitra's totally bewildered eyes were as safe a place as any to look.

*****

Chapter 77

"Do you remember the first time I saw you? I had nothing on my mind except the composition package and the fact Dreen was late and there wouldn't be much time to talk about it. Then I saw you, and something happened I didn't think would ever happen again. There was this woman standing there, and I forgot all about the software. All I knew was I wanted to be with her."

Seeing Mitra's expression change and not for the better, Joran hastened to add, "I don't mean it was a case of here is a sexy little thing, I wonder..." He let it trail off expressively. "I'd reached that stage of healing a while ago, and one night stands were easy on the Anton tours. What I mean was I thought here is someone really special. If all those little things that matter go right, we could possibly, just possibly make a future that mattered. Instinct took over, and I came on to you.

"But there were two real problems. Dreen had obviously got there first. Usually that wouldn't have mattered. We have pretty much the same taste and have squared off over women before. And by the way, it's never been over a buxom blonde. Our taste doesn't run that way." Joran was too intent on Mitra to notice the mixture of embarrassment and regret that brought to Rhea's face.

"But more important was the fact I'm still a long way from over Maillie's death. Like I said, I amazed myself by wanting more than a one night stand. But at the same time I couldn't have given you one hell of a lot more. A vacation romance at best." He shrugged. "You deserve more than that, Pretty Lady. And even then Dreen had forever written all over his face. So I backed off.

"I told myself I was truly happy to see how well it worked out. I've never seen Dreen like he was with you. And you were obviously enjoying yourself too, Pretty Lady. At the same time, I was going through hell every time you two drifted into the restaurant around noon with obviously one thing on your minds. I don't know ..." Joran frowned. "There was a lot of confused thinking about Maillie in there too. The only thing I know for sure was that after all of those years of anesthetizing myself I was glad to be able to feel, even if it was pain. But eventually I got to where I couldn't stand it. So I did what I always do. I worked it out in music. I'm not good at words."

I'd say you're not doing too bad with them," Sanja murmured gently.

Joran gave her a startled look. He'd literally forgotten her or anyone else sitting there. Then he turned back to Mitra. The next part was going to be harder to say. He gave her an appealing look. "I polished and recorded M's song before I could chicken out. Don't you see? I had to start recording again. Then I authorized the distribution, and signed it over to Dreen. I told him to use the money to make some memories before he lost you."

There was real pain now in Joran's face. "Somehow I keep feeling like that move jinxed you. That my bright idea was why Dreen did almost lose you. At the time I just didn't want him to be stupid like I was with Maillie, not make enough memories. And besides, if you were touring I wouldn't have to see you together. And I truly thought there was a good chance you'd just disappear home. I knew you were happy, but I wasn't sure it was a forever thing with you." He was watching Mitra's face.

Suddenly Joran said explosively, "That's crap isn't it, Pretty Lady? Should I say it was obvious you were as far gone as Dreen was, and I just hoped you'd go home so we'd both lose you? That doesn't sound so good, does it? But then you really were gone and we didn't know where. I saw Dreen in agony, and I've never felt so cheap. After all that, all that mattered was finding you. And now, you've both been through hell, and it's over, and you're together, and you've got that chance to do something special with your lives.

"And," he shook his head in disbelief, "on your wedding eve you get it into your silly little head to get jealous over someone neither Dreen nor I could fall in love with. I won't be stupid and say Brys is no one. She's a good person and she's had one hell of a childhood, and Bojo thinks she's heaven. But I don't, and take my word for it, Dreen doesn't.

"And you ..."Joran pointed at Mitra but carefully did not touch her. "You are the incredible one. Do you know how much I've tortured myself dreaming of doing what I just did? Running my hand along your bare shoulder and tangling it into that short dark hair, and bending over and kissing you. It would," he added in mild reproach, "have been an improvement on the fantasy if you'd responded instead of getting ready to belt me."

Belt him? Dreen felt the icy knot in his stomach relax a little. All he had seen of the kiss was that dark hand tangled in her hair, Joran's head bent over Mitra, and the tremor all across her shoulders that he had been terrified was a sexual response. He'd thought of Maillie and Johnny Sun, and Joran's poaching there.

"You think Brys is gorgeous?" Joran challenged. "Don't you realize you have the most perfect little breasts? And that tiny waist. A man could circle it with his hands. And below that, a surprising round little bottom. Do you realize how many times I've woken up dreaming about putting my hands around your bare waist and lifting you up and –"

"Um." There was a gentle pressure on his elbow. Joran frowned and turned.

"I really wouldn't," Rhea said gently, nodding not at Dreen but at little Tessa who, oblivious to the adults, was staring entranced at WinSome who were filing onto the stage. All the same, Rhea firmly believed kids heard and remembered everything.

Joran gave her a rueful smile. "Yes, given the present company, let's delete that part. Suffice to say, Pretty Lady, do you have any idea at all what effect you have on the poor male of the species?"

"Coming out of three years of enforced celibacy could have had something to do with it," Niki said under his breath. Sanja slapped him under the table.

"No," Mitra said, totally confused.

Joran threw up both hands in total disgust. "I give up!" He looked over her head at Dreen. "I can truly finally say you're welcome to her. I couldn't cope. Is she always this difficult?"

"More or less," Dreen said complacently. "Blind spots you could fly a space yacht through."

"Always been like that," Niki contributed.

"Personally," Dreen said, turning Mitra to face him, "I like her that way." And then it was his turn to tangle his fingers in her hair and kiss her, which of course was exactly what Mitra wanted.

That tense, half sick feeling of Mitra's started to be replaced by happiness and contentment. How could she possibly have been so stupid as to doubt Dreen? As he broke off the kiss, she slipped her arms around him and kissed him back, an intimate kiss in public that her very private man didn't seem to mind. It promised how they would end the night.

Chelan, seated beside Roween and Gemma at a table just too far away to eavesdrop, had been watching his daughter. The conversation at their table was between Roween and Bruce Oondo and Jorgus Brenya and it was all about research labs. Totally disinterested, Chelan had been letting it flow past him as he watched the young people. He had been more than slightly alarmed by the events with Joran. But now he smiled and caught Gemma's eye. She looked at the couple, and returned his smile. It was so nice to see their children together.

***

"You may kiss the bride."

That was not the universal conclusion to a wedding ceremony, but it was in 64.7% of the heterosexual cases, and Chelan preferred it to any of the others he had discovered in his research on wedding ceremonies. Slightly misty-eyed he watched as Dreen tipped Mitra's face up, and stooped to kiss her. It was good to see his daughter so loved, and in love.

###

About the Authors

Co-authors Judi Suni Hall, PhD. and Donald S. Hall, PhD. have shared their lives and careers since marrying as undergrads. They both did PhD.'s in theoretical physics, then moved into industry and worked at AECL, Canada's nuclear research lab. As Technical Director of AECL's risk analysis consultancy Judi worked with a number of industries, including the Canadian Space Agency. Don's research on expert systems led to collaboration with some of Canada's top AI researchers.

Their lives were changed by a severely disabling virus and 10 years were a write off. Don now runs Apps & More Software Design and has the caregiver role as Judi is still severely disabled.

In addition to writing science fiction, Judi and Don are internationally published haiga poets, fine artists, and surface designers.

*****

Please visit the official Gingezel Sci Fi site www.gingezelscifi.com. to see our art depicting the various planets and to find vignettes filling in bits of history. There is also a character list with a brief biography of each character.

