Such a house should not be here, not this far from both the village and the garrison.

Despite his physical fatigue, Jules felt a surge of renewed energy charging through his

body. He and Vonnie had come to Gastonia looking for something that was not quite

right, and this house in the wilderness certainly fit that description. He would have to

investigate it more closely and he would never have a better cover story than the truth,

that he was a hunter lost in the storm and needing help.

He picked Li up once more and started off toward the house. The strangely clear air

after the storm had a deceptive effect, and the building turned out to be farther away

than it looked at first. Jules found he had to trudge nearly two kilometers before it

seemed appreciably closer. He kept walking, though, and the house appeared even more

magical the nearer he came. In the long, fading shadows of twilight the windows lit up,

and the house took on the aspects of some grand castle in a fairy tale.

There was a small stand of trees at the base of the hill, and from out of the shadows,

before Jules could think to hide, came a guard. He was a tall man, wearing clothes that

had obviously been made off-planet ... and he tamed a blaster. Jules noted that

particular detail with a great deal of interest indeed.

"Stop!" the guard ordered. He did not have to reach for his weapon, confident that any

normal Gastonian would not be armed well enough to fight him. "What are you doing

here?" "Looking for help," Jules said. "My comrade and I got trapped in the storm. He's

badly hurt, and I'm not in such great shape myself."

"Why did you come here?"

"We got lost, separated from the rest of our hunting party. After the storm, I saw this

house. It's pretty fancy; how did it get here, and how did you get that blaster?"

"I'll ask the questions around here," the guard said brusquely. "Come this way-and stay in

front of me at all times."

Jules walked in the indicated direction, still carrying the unconscious Li. Fifty meters up

the hill, behind a large boulder, was a guard station. Two other men were currently on

duty there-and both of them had blasters, too. Jules decided to play the role of a rube,

and gawked blatantly at the station's equipment, which consisted largely of an intercom

back to the house and an infrared scanner to survey the valley at the bottom of the hill.

No wonder they spotted me so fast, Jules thought. They probably had their sights on me

all the way across the valley.

One of the other guards had noticed his staring, and took out his blaster in a threatening

gesture. "Hey, you, stop looking where you ain't supposed to."

"Sorry." Jules quickly looked down at his feet in a gesture of abject apology. "I just never

expected to see a setup like this here on Gastonia. Where'd you get it all, anyway?"

"Shut up!" The guard who'd brought him here gave Jules a hard backhand slap across

the face. The agent's anger rose, but he kept it under control. This was not the time for a

fight out until he learned more about what was going on here, and what odds he had to

face. "Didn't I tell you not to ask questions?" the guard continued.

Jules remained silent, and the three guards conferred among themselves about what to

do with these interlopers. Finally one of them said, "We might as well call up to the house

and find out what she wants to do with them."

Mention of the word "she" quickened Jules's pulse slightly. Could they be referring to

Lady A? Was she here on Gastonia? Was he finally going to meet her face to face-and if

so, how could he turn such a meeting to his advantage under these circumstances?

His hopes were dashed, though, when the woman to whom these men owed allegiance

replied over the intercom. Jules had heard Lady A's voice before, on a tape, and this

voice, though strong, did not have the same tone of imperious command as the

conspiracy's ringleader. There was something familiar about it, though, Jules would have

sworn he'd heard it before, although the precise memory escaped him at the moment.

The chief guard explained to his boss how he had found the prisoners, and repeated

Jules's story. The woman at the other end was silent for a moment, then said, "Bring

them up to the house. I'd like to have a look at them."

The guard turned to Jules. "You heard what she said. Get moving."

Jules walked out the door of the station, still carrying Li on his shoulders, and marched

up the steep hill to the big house. The guard followed a few steps behind him. Even had

he wanted to make an escape attempt, Jules could not have dropped Li's body and

turned to fight before the guard could have drawn his blaster and fired. Of course, Jules

desired no such thing; at the moment he was delighted to be getting an escort into the

house.

As he walked through the door, he was greeted by a sensation he hadn't felt since he'd

arrived on Gastonia, a feeling he'd almost forgotten existed-warmth. This house was

heated efficiently, and did not need to rely on the uneven heating of the crude fireplaces

in most Gastonian dwellings. To Jules, who had now spent more than a month living

under the cold Gastonian conditions, it was almost uncomfortable to be comfortable.

He was ushered into a room that could have passed for a wealthy salon on any civilized

planet-comfortable furniture, carved wooden tables, circular carpets, indirect ceiling

lighting, even a sensable set in one corner. Anywhere else, Jules would not have thought

twice about the decor-but on Gastonia it was an anachronism for which he had to find an

explanation.

A woman walked into the room from another hallway. She wore a red caftan covered

with gold beadwork, silk slippers trimmed with fur and a dark blue fur-edged cape. But

when Jules got a look at her face, his heart froze. Coming across the carpet toward him

was Tanya Boros-former Dowager Duchess of Swingleton, former heir to all of Sector

Twenty ... and the only daughter of the infamous Banion the Bastard, pretender to the

Throne until a couple of years ago, when the d'Alemberts thwarted his carefully laid

conspiracy.

Although the harsh climate of Gastonia could age a person quickly, Tanya Boros looked

as beautiful and young as ever. Her years of exile on this world had been gentle with her,

and Jules was sure she could not have spent much time in the village. But life within this

villa could not have been what Stanley Ten had had in mind when he commuted her death

sentence to life imprisonment in exchange for her renunciation of all titles and a renewed

vow of loyalty to the Empire.

Jules cursed himself as all kinds of a fool for not expecting to run into her here. It had

been his actions that condemned her to this planet, and yet he had scarcely given her a

thought in the intervening years. Partly it was because he'd been too busy with other

things-but also, he knew, it was because there was a tendency to think of someone on

Gastonia as already dead. Now he was learning how wrong that assumption was.

He had to think quickly. Tanya Boros had met him years ago as duClos, an ex-Puritan

masseur and bodybuilder. He had moved with an athletic spring to his step and affected

a prissy, supercilious tone, sneering at her nobility and insulting her to her face. He had

been smooth-shaven save for a pencil-thin mustache and had spoken with a slightly nasal

twang.

Since there were no shaving implements on Gastonia, his face-like that of every other

male here-was half hidden by a thick growth of beard; that would help. He let his

shoulders sag slightly under the load they were carrying, and he hunched in his neck so

that his chin was almost even with his shoulders. He reminded himself to speak in a slow

drawl. He wanted there to be as few clues as possible to remind her of anyone she

might have known.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply. From her tone, she might still have been

one of society's leading lights questioning a disobedient servant.

"Well, gospozha, I didn't mean to come," Jules said. He was putting on an act, creating a

character as different from duClos as he could make it, staring abashedly at the floor

and shuffling awkwardly from one foot to another. "Me and my friend here, we're just

hunters from the village, and we got lost from the rest of our friends in the storm, and. .

."

"Look at me when you speak."

"Uh, yes, uh sorry, gospozha. Anyway, we was lost and my friend collapsed, so I started

carrying him, and then the storm stopped and I saw your house up here, and I thought I

might ask for some help, and I . .."

"You carried him all the way up the hill?" Boros's eyes narrowed and she looked more

closely at Jules.

The agent gave her a broad, toothy grin. "Why yes, gospozha, he ain't that particularly

heavy. When you get used to draggin' wallowers around in the marsh, you don't think

much of luggin' a little guy like him."

The woman was staring at him, now, examining his face closely-too closely for his

comfort. "What did you say your name was?" she asked.

"Brecht, gospozha, Ernst Brecht. Can I put my friend down somewhere-he is startin' to

get a mite heavy."

"No, you may not." She walked around him, observing him from all angles, then came

back to face him again. "Tell me, Ernst Brecht, when were you last on Earth?"

"Oh, I ain't never been on Earth, gospozha. No, never been there in my life. How could I

afford it? That's for the rich folks and the nobles."

"Then where could I have met you?" The question was only half directed at him; the other

half was to herself.

"Don't know, gospozha. I'm sure I'd remember someone as pretty as you. Ever been to

Islandia? That's where I come from."

"I've never even heard of Islandia."

"That's too bad, gospozha. It's a really nice place. I wish I was there right now-all bright

and warm and sunshiny. I wish I'd never left. I sure wish now I'd never done them

things..."

"Oh, shut up!" Boros snapped peevishly. Jules could tell she was emotionally as childish

as ever-a fact he'd been relying on. She had little patience for anything that didn't play

the game the way she wanted it played.

Turning to her henchman, she said, "This imbecile's no threat to us. Wait until it gets a

little darker, then take him back in the copter. Drop him off near the rest of his friends

and let him walk the rest of the way. Don't let them see you."

She turned back to Jules. "One thing you'd better keep in mind, Gospodin Brecht. I know

everything important that goes on in the village. I have people keeping me informed. I

don't want you to start talking about this house, is that clear? If you do, I will be very

upset. and I may have to take steps to silence you permanently. Do you understand?"

Jules gulped noisily. "Yes, gospozha."

The guard who'd brought Jules in looked at Boros in amazement. "Why don't we just kill

him now and be done with it?" he asked. "No one would miss him."

"I gave you your orders. Carry them out." Tanya Boros stalked huffily out of the room

once more.

The guard was a bit perplexed, but he knew better than to disobey instructions from that

woman. Taking Jules roughly by the arm, he said, "This way, snowslusher."

Jules was equally puzzled by Boros's action. Although she had never, to his knowledge,

committed murder as part of her father's plot-she was much too lazy and self-indulgent

to care about such things-he nonetheless did not believe such things were beyond her

capabilities. If he'd been in her place, he'd have killed the trespasser in an instant. He'd

been prepared to put up a fight immediately if it became necessary-but he was most

thankful that it wasn't. He would rather have the opportunity to make more careful and

detailed plans. He would not look past the molars on this particular gift hone.

But he was still worried as he was escorted out of the house. Tanya Boros might not

have recognized him this time, but he knew they would meet again-and anything might

happen then.

Chapter 10

Betrayal

When Yvette left the Paradise on the planet Bromberg, she took with her a great deal of

specialized equipment-including a miniaturized nondirectional subcom transmitter. The

pirates' appetite had been whetted by their disastrous attack on the Bavols' vessel, but

the interest would have to be maintained. Left to his own devices, the pirate leader might

decide that the Paradise was not worth the effort for further forays. It was Yvette's job

to convince him otherwise-and for that, she needed inside help.

Naval Intelligence had already managed to infiltrate the pirates' hierarchy with one of

their own men, a Commander Paul Fortier. The Navy's spy had worked his way into the

position of the pirate leader's chief lieutenant, and was sending back useful information at

irregular intervals-whenever it was safe to broadcast-that had allowed the Navy to keep

the pirate menace at least under control. The Navy had been on the verge of closing this

gang down for good when Fortier sent word hinting at a larger organization extending

throughout the Empire. The decision was made back at Headquarters to allow this gang

to continue while Fortier probed deeper into the subject of the overall conspiracy. At

about this time the Gastonian connection came to light, and now SOTE was involved as

well. Yvette hoped to work with Fortier to smash this treasonous network before Edna's

ascension to the Throne. There was not much time left.

Once she had set up her base of operations in a small hotel room on Bromberg, Yvette

set about the tricky task of signaling Fortier. This was not easy, because the naval

officer could not stand by his subcom unit waiting for calls. His communicator was

probably well-concealed somewhere on or near the pirate base, recording all incoming

messages. Whenever it was safe to do so, Fortier would play them back and learn what

was expected of him. In this case, Yvette gave him instructions in a high-level code to

rendezvous with her as soon as practical at The Black Hole Caf‚ on Bromberg at ten any

evening. She described what she looked like and told him she'd seen his photo, so she

could identify him.

With that accomplished, there was nothing to do but wait. As an important officer in the

pirate force, Fortier would have more freedom of movement than most of the men-but

even so, he could not come and go as he pleased. To avoid suspicion he would have to

wait until there was a logical reason for him to go to Bromberg-either to sell some of the

pirates' stolen goods, to buy supplies or to recruit more people for their band; then he

would have to find a reason to slip away from his companions and meet her at the

designated spot. It could be days or weeks before he showed up, but Yvette forced

herself to be patient. She knew all too well the hazards of an agent working in the field,

and she knew Fortier could not afford to hurry; it was his neck on the line, after all.

Yvette became a steady customer at The Black Hole Caf‚, coming in regularly every

night at eight-thirty and staying well past eleven. After the first week, the manager began

setting aside a special table just for her, off in one dark corner where she could have the

privacy she requested. Sometimes the caf‚'s staff wondered about this beautiful,

mysterious woman who sat by herself and ate dinner, rebuffing the advances of the few

men who tried, at first, to pick her up. Eventually no one bothered any more, and Yvette

became as much a fixture in the caf‚ as the paint stains on the baseboards or the faded

paper on the walls.

Finally, after more than three weeks of waiting, Yvette looked up one night to see Paul

Fortier enter the caf‚. He was a short, muscular man with black hair, brown eyes and a

thin mustache. He wore an open-necked white shirt with a gray vest and pants, boots,

and a short gray cape with red velvet appliquds. On his head was a small red skullcap.

He glanced around the room a moment; then, seeing Yvette sitting in her corner, he

came to her table and sat down.

"I understand the dinner for two is better than the a la carte," he said, delivering the

pre-arranged recognition signal.

"It ought to be; it costs more," Yvette replied with the countersign. Then, identities

established, she continued, "I've acquired something of a reputation in here for dining

alone; it wouldn't be wise to break character now. There's a bar called the Vortex two

blocks away. I'll meet you there in an hour, if it's convenient."

For-tier gave a slight nod, then stood up to play out his part for the rest of the caf‚'s

patrons. "Khorosho, be that way," he said, loudly enough for all to hear. "It'll be a cold

day in hell before I waste my time on you again."

An hour later they met at the bar under more relaxed circumstances. "How did I do back

there?" Fortier asked her. "A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but it served its purpose,"

Yvette smiled back.

"What's the assignment this time?"

Briefly, Yvette explained about the problem of Karla Jost and the apparent connection

between Gastonia and the pirates. Fortier listened and nodded slowly. "There have been

some high-level recruits coming into the upper echelons without working their way

through the ranks. I thought something was suspicious but there wasn't any way to hook

myself into them. Now that you mention this, though, it all starts to make sense."

Yvette then went on to explain that she and her partner had been assigned to work on

the case with Fortier from the pirate end of the operation, and that they were behind the

Paradise. The commander whistled. "You don't do things by halves, do you?"

"My partner has a ... shall we say, flair? At any rate, you'll have to convince your boss to

tackle it again."

"After losing a whole ship that badly, and not even knowing how it was done? He's given

up on it, at least for now. The possible reward isn't worth the sacrifice."

"That's where I come in. As Mila Farese, I was in charge of keeping all the customers

happy-and I was the owner's mistress. I know the defenses of the ship backward and

forward. The situation as you will explain it to your boss is that my boyfriend and I have

had a colossal fight, and I left the ship. You found me here on Bromberg, and I was only

too happy to get revenge-as long as I get a substantial enough cut. And of course, you'll

have to bring me back to the base with you so I can discuss it with him personally. Think

you can manage that'?"

Fortier pondered. "The Paradise is a rich enough prize that he might just consider it worth

another go if he had inside knowledge. Yes, I think he'll bite. I can give him a subcom call

tomorrow and argue the case. Where can I reach you?"

Yvette gave him the name of her hotel, and they completed the arrangements for

communicating the next day. With business finished, Yvette leaned back in her stool and

attempted to satisfy some personal curiosity. "You've got a high-grav body," she said,

"and the name Fortier sounds definitely DesPlainian. Are you?"

Fortier shook his head. "My grandfather was, and all his line before him, but he left

DesPlaines for a Navy career. He married a woman from Soleban, a normal grav world,

and settled there. Both my father and I also followed naval careers-but by the time the

genes got down to me, all I've got is the short, stubby body and the thick bones. There

are plenty of times I wish I did have the speed and the strength, but ... no, it wasn't to

be. You, I take it, are a true DesPlainian. What's your name?"

Yvette hesitated for just an instant. Her deeply engrained instincts as a secret agent told

her not to give her real name to anyone, not even an ally; she was too high-ranking a

weapon in SOTE's arsenal to give her identity lightly. If Fortier were captured and

subjected to nitrobarb, her cover would be blown-and possibly even the cover for the

entire Circus. She thought of giving her code name, Periwinkle, but that was a SOTE

code name, and would be meaningless to a Naval Intelligence officer. "For now," she

said, "why not just call me Mila Farese? That way you won't have to worry about

conflicting identities."

As a secret agent himself, Fortier nodded and gave her a quiet smile. "Khorosho. Along

those same lines, you'd best forget the name Fortier. The pirates know me as

Rocheville. And I'd better be going now-I've been away from the others in my group too

long as it is. I'll be in touch with you tomorrow with the results of my call." The two

agents shook hands and Fortier left the bar. Yvette waited fifteen minutes to avoid having

it look as though they were together, then returned to her hotel, pleased with the

outcome of the night's work.

Fortier called her the next day at midafternoon to tell her that he'd arranged for her to be

taken back to their base for a meeting with his boss, Admiral Shen Tzu of the "alternate

navy," as Shen was fond of calling his pirate band. Shen was at least willing to discuss

the possibility of another raid on the Paradise, and was looking forward to the

acquaintance of the beautiful woman Fortier had described to him.

Yvette met Fortier and the other pirates the next day at the spaceport, and was taken

aboard their ship-a small unarmed personal yacht that could hardly be suspected of

being a pirate's vessel. The pirates did not bring their loot personally down to the planet;

they had it waiting in a ship orbiting this sun far beyond the path of its outermost planet,

and prospective buyers were ferried out for inspection. The buyers, many of whom were

otherwise legitimate businessmen, could then bring the contraband in as part of their

honest import trade, and no one would be the wiser.

The pirates, having concluded their business dealings, were ready to return to base. Out

in deep space they and Yvette transferred to the larger ship and set out quickly for the

uncharted pirate world.

"It's a jungle planet that doesn't seem to be on any of the charts," Fortier explained to her

as they traveled. "They've got the base and the ships hidden away just in case the

Empire happens to stumble across it-but there's been no problem so far." He shook his

head. "Hundreds of ships-some of them almost destroyer size-and over twenty thousand

people to man them. Even a large pirate organization would only need five or ten ships at

the most. They's why I told the Navy to hold off their mop-up operations; this base must

be part of some larger plan. I've tried to find out more about it, but apart from some

rumors about other similar bases elsewhere, I haven't come up with anything definite."

He looked at her with a forlorn smile. "Maybe you'll have more luck than I did, coming at

it from a different angle."

It took them three days at top speed to travel from Bromberg to the pirate planet. Yvette

was never allowed in the control room, so she did not learn the world's location-but she

was sure that was unnecessary. Fortier had probably learned the coordinates long ago

and forwarded the information to the Navy. The information she needed was much more

subtle and far more important.

Immediately after landing, Fortier escorted her to Admiral Shen's office. Yvette decided it

would be perfectly within Mila Farese's character to gawk at the decadence of the

Mongol tent office and at the enormous size of the man inhabiting it. The only person

she'd ever met who was bigger had been Marchioness Gindri of the gambling moon

Vesa-a pale, indulgent slug with only a passing resemblance to humanity. Admiral Shen,

however, for all his large bulk, was not soft; there was a cold, hard set mouth above his

multiple chins. Yvette had few doubts about this man's ability to handle his obviously high

position within the conspiracy.

Shen's eyes were traveling approvingly up and down Yvette's body. "Well, Rocheville,"

he said to Fortier in a deep, gravelly voice, "what morsel have you brought me this time?"

"Her name is Mila Farese, and she claims to have the key to the Paradise's defense."

Shen stopped his ogling and looked instead straight into Yvette's eyes. "Is this true?" he

asked.

"You bet it is." Yvette worked up a good show of righteous indignation. "That little weasel

has two-timed me for the last time. I'll show him he can't. . ."

"Excuse me," Shen interrupted, "but which little two-timing weasel are we talking about?"

"Brian Sangers, the tonkarat who runs the Paradise. I was his top lady until he started

fooling with a little jamtart who has less brains than a flea's left foot. I practically ran the

whole ship for him, and the only thanks I get is a quick boot in the rear. I'll show him not

to mess with a Farese."

"A very commendable spirit, my dear," Shen said calmly, a broad smile illuminating his

face. "I presume that is where my organization and I come in."

"Sure. You want to crack it open and get inside, and I've got the knowledge to help you

do it. There's millions of rubles floating free in there, if you've got the guts to go for it."

"My, my, Hell certainly does have no fury, does it? And you offer me all this out of the

goodness of your heart and your desire for revenge, is that it?"

"Hell, no. I take one-quarter, off the top."

Shen placed his two palms together almost in a position of prayer and buried his face

behind the joined hands. "That's a rather high commission, don't you think'! I have

expenses of my own to meet, after all-there's a payroll and overhead for maintaining this

base. The people who go out on the raids always get a percentage of the take-it's part

of my incentive program. They wouldn't be happy with me if I gave away such a large

share to such a little woman."

"Without me, you ain't ever going to get in," Yvette insisted.

"And without me, you won't have the manpower to complete your revenge," Shen

countered. "But I'm a generous man. I'll give you ten percent of the net, after operating

expenses are deducted."

Yvette hesitated for effect. "Twenty percent," she said at last.

"Fifteen percent net." "Fifteen gross."

Admiral Shen considered her latest counter-offer, then slammed an open palm down on

his desk with a resounding clap. "Done! It's a pleasure doing business with you,

Gospozha Farese. Now, tell me about those defenses."

Yvette shook her head. "I may not be no admiral, but I ain't stupid. If I tell you now, you

won't need me at all. I'll go along with your raiders, and I'll give them instructions as they

need them."

Shen's smile broadened still further. "Well, well, ever the practical little businesswoman.

Khorosho, have it your way. When this raid is over, maybe you would consider joining

forces with me. I could find a position for a beautiful woman with the brains to match her

looks."

Sure, I'll bet you could, Yvette thought as she noticed the lecherous look in Shen's eyes.

I'll bet it's a horizontal position, too.

But to voice her sarcasm would not be in keeping with the looser, more worldly character

of Mila Farese. Instead, Yvette smiled sweetly back at him and said, "I'm afraid you

couldn't afford me, honey. As soon as I get my take, I'll be long gone to a life of ease

and respectability."

"Suit yourself," Shen said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'll have one of my other men

show you to your quarters, I have a few details to discuss with Rocheville."

Yvette went with her new guide, leaving the two men alone. The next step of the plan

was up to Fortier, It would be his job to alter the deal Shen had just made with her, by

pointing out that this Brian Sangers must be an exceptional person if he could devise a

pirate defense system that worked so well. Fortier would suggest that they capture

Sangers and offer him a job in their organization.

Shen must have been impressed by the way the Paradise defended itself. It shouldn't

take much salesmanship on Fortier's part to switch him around to that way of thinking.

Yvette reached her small cabin and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. So far,

everything had been going according to plan-and for some reason, that disturbed her.

You're too used to having things go wrong, she chided herself. Lean back and enjoy

them when they go right for a change.

But she found the advice easier to give than to follow.

Chapter 11

Traps

"You told me to keep my eyes open for anything suspicious," Tanya Boros was saying,

"and this certainly was, or I wouldn't have bothered calling you."

A three-dimensional image of Lady A's head filled the screen of Boros's subcom unit. The

former Duchess of Swingleton had been a little worried about calling her superior on this

matter; Lady A's temper was legendary within the organization, and disturbing her for

some trivial purpose was not a recommended practice. Tanya Boros did not think the

matter of this interloper was trivial, though, and she hoped Lady A wouldn't, either.

Lady A seemed to be in a good mood today; her expression was almost warm as she

looked back at Boros from inside the box. "Explain what happened," she said.

"A man, one of the villagers, came up the hill and was brought into the house by a guard.

He looked and acted harmless enough, but there was something about him that was

vaguely familiar. I would have killed him outright, but I remembered your instructions so I

just let him go and warned him not to talk about this house to anyone. After he was gone,

I checked his file with the computer.

"He claimed to be Ernst Brecht from Islandia, and that much did check out-but if he is

Ernst Brecht, he can't be nearly as stupid as he acted here. According to the file, Brecht

and his wife, acting solely by themselves, took over the entire colony world of Islandia

and held it for several days before SOTE captured them. Yet with me, he was practically

drooling in his shoes."

"There does seem to be a disparity," said Lady A. "Let me see a picture of him."

Boros obliged. "This is one the guards took of him when he was at their station. The

other is from his official prison file, showing him without beard and mustache. He looks

even more familiar to me that way, but I just can't place him."

Lady A studied the pictures for a moment, and a smile spread slowly across her face.

"Yes indeed," she said, half to herself.

"You know him, then?"

"I've seen him once, at Edna's wedding. He was the rather athletic young man who

swung down from the ceiling on a rope and spoiled our little surprise."

"Athletic?" Boros slapped her forehead with her right palm. "Bozhe moi, of course. He

was an athlete, a bodybuilder... what was his name? DuClos, that's it. I was taking

training from him just before . . ."

Her eyes narrowed as the picture suddenly swam into focus before her memory. "Then

he's the one who ... and I did it. I betrayed my father and mother. It was all my fault they

lost." Her eyes began to fill with tears. Some were actually for the memory of her dead

parents-but even more were for having blown her own chance to be heir to the Throne.

Lady A let her cry for a moment, an abnormally tender expression on her face. "It was

hardly your fault, child. Your father's plot was not really intended to succeed."

Tanya Boros looked up quickly and drew a sharp intake of breath. "What? How did you

... you planned it to fail?" She could hardly believe the implications of what Lady A told

her. She had grown up with her father's plans for the takeover of the Empire, had seen

him work them out with meticulous detail. Never had there been any mention of anyone

higher up.

"Not as blatantly as you state it," Lady A said. Under any other circumstances she might

have become annoyed at such rude questioning by an inferior, but with Tanya Boros she

was strangely subdued. "I had hoped, right up to the last, that he would succeed-and his

failure hurt me more than you can guess. But I never really believed he could make it. His

attack was much too frontal, and the threat he posed to the Empire was much too

obvious. SOTE had been looking for both him and the Patent for over sixty years; it was

only a matter of time before they found him. Frankly, I was surprised it took them as long

as it did-but then, your father did inherit a certain amount of native cunning from both his

parents."

She paused a moment for breath, then continued softly, "No-Banion was at best a feint in

the true plan, an obvious decoy set out to keep SOTS busy while we worked the real

plan behind the scenes. We now reach into every sector of government, in ways that not

even SOTE will realize until it's much too late."

-But. . . ,

"Enough of this," Lady A said, suddenly snapping back into her normal behavior. "There

are more immediate problems concerning us. It seems you have a SOTE agent on your

tailor possibly two, since you mentioned he had a wife. How do you propose to cope with

him?"

"I'll have him killed immediately," Boros replied.

"No, you will not!" Lady A's voice was cold and stern. "I've waited too long for him to get

there; I was almost beginning to think he wouldn't show up at all. You will keep a close

watch on him, certainly, to make sure he doesn't do anything we can't handle. Other than

that, we will make him come to us. I'll be out there myself in just a few days, and we'll

set a trap with bait he'll never be able to resist."

"What bait is that?"

"Me," said Lady A, and broke off the transmission.

The hunting trip proved to be a total disaster from the standpoint of most of Jules's

companions. More than one-third of the total party was killed during the freak storm, and

the one wallower that they had managed to catch had been lost, buried somewhere by

the blizzard. Jules and Li had been set down about a kilometer outside the camp by the

copter, and Jules managed to carry his companion back to the group. Li was at least still

alive, and after he came around he was most grateful to Jules for saving him. He had

absolutely no recollection of the house or the meeting with Tanya Boros, and Jules-as

he'd been ordered-did not discuss it; it was not that he feared what Boros might do, but

rather that it was none of these people's business what had gone on there.

Disheartened and discouraged, the hunting party trudged back to the village

empty-handed, arriving well after nightfall the next day. Jules collected the minimal pay

allotted for such a disastrous expedition and hurried back home to Vonnie.

After their lingering welcome-home kiss, Vonnie started talking quickly to apprize him of

what had happened during his absence. "There's a lot more here than meets the eye,"

she said. "There seems to be a copter somewhere on this planet . . ."

"I know," her husband said with a slight smile. "I rode in it."

After a line like that, he had to elaborate. He recounted briefly his adventure in the

blizzard, spending much more time relating what had happened at that fantastic house.

Vonnie had never met Boros, and only knew of her vaguely from Jules's abridged tales of

his previous exploits, but she knew full well that Boros's presence here on Gastonia was

both a threat and a promise-a threat to possibly expose Jules's cover, and a promise

that they were indeed closing in on the mysterious happenings they'd come here to

investigate.

When Jules had finished, Vonnie continued her own story of events back in the village-of

the copter she had heard going overhead, of the discovery that there were native

Gastonians who seemed to be the "forgotten people" of the Empire, and of the offer she

had received just yesterday from the mysterious stranger who wanted to challenge the

village leadership and establish himself at the top.

Although Jules was tired after the events of the past two days and the long hike back to

the village, he knew that time was short. Edna's coronation would be drawing near, and

with it came the threat of disruption by Lady A's conspiracy. There were no accurate

timepieces on Gastonia and, although the d'Alemberts knew that a day here was about

twenty-eight hours long, they had lost track of how time here related to the official

Imperial Time which was kept at Earth standard. The two agents stayed up most of the

night discussing the possibilities their discoveries had opened.

"If the copter flew over the village, it means Boros or one of her people was visiting

someone here; if they were visiting someone at the garrison instead and wanted to keep

their presence on this world secret, they'd have flown around the village," Jules mused.

"The most likely person for Boros to contact here would be Tshombase, since he

controls most of what goes on in the village. That would tie in with what she told me, that

she would know if I talked much about her house to anyone back here."

"That seems to make it more important than ever that we integrate ourselves into the

village leadership," Vonnie said. "If we can't do it through Tshombase, it'll have to be with

this other fellow who asked for our help. From what you've told me. I don't think Boros

will be picky about who's in charge of the village; she'll deal with whoever is the mayor,

and he'll have to go along because she has the guns and the resources."

"Yes, we'll have to make some plans," Jules said. "When did this guy say he'd talk to you

again?"

"He didn't. I just told him I'd have to talk it over with you, and he said he'd be in touch. I

imagine it will be within the next couple of days. He seemed pretty eager."

"Eager, eh? I don't like that." Jules paced nervously over the floor. "If he's in too much of

a hurry, he may make sloppy mistakes that could cost him when he makes his play for

the top. Of course," he added with a smile, "there may be ways we can use that to our

advantage as well."

It was two days later when the scar-faced man contacted Yvonne again. She was

walking to work in the morning when she heard her name hissed out from an alleyway,

and there he was, still partially obscured by shadows. "Well?" he asked impatiently.

"We're in, if you still want us," she said quietly.

"Good. There'll be a short orientation meeting tomorrow night about an hour after

sundown at 47 Snowbound Lane. Come unarmed. If you and your husband aren't there,

you're dropped from the list."

"We'll be there," Vonnie promised.

Without even waiting for her reply, the man had started slinking away, and within

seconds he was gone. Yvonne shrugged her shoulders and continued on her way to

work. The plan had now begun to move, however slowly; tomorrow night should be very

interesting.

The d'Alemberts arrived at the given address at the appointed time the next night. At

Yvonne's knock, the door opened a crack and a man behind it gave her a quick glance to

make sure she was one of the ones to be admitted. When her identity had been

established, the door swung open wider, and she and Jules were permitted to enter.

There were fourteen other people in the room. Scarface and three of his beefy

bodyguards stood at the front, while eleven others-probably new recruits like the

d'Alemberts-sat on the floor facing them. Jules and Yvonne were searched for weapons

and, when it was determined they were unarmed, they were invited to sit down with the

others.

The d'Alemberts were apparently the last expected arrivals, because as soon as they

were seated Scarface began to talk. He welcomed the recruits to the new organization,

and promised them all good jobs when he replaced Tshombase as the new mayor of the

village. He explained to them how he had studied Tshombase's organization, and knew

who and where all the other's people were. The new organization was still a little ways

from completion; when Scarface judged they were ready, they would attack throughout

Tshombase's network simultaneously in a complete top-to-bottom coup, leaving not a

single one of the old mayor's men alive to stage a counterrevolution.

He had just begun explaining the roles each of them was to play in his insurrection when

there was a sudden colossal pounding at the door. Scarface stopped speaking, and the

three bodyguards drew their long knives and turned to face the possible threat. After a

second there was another loud pounding, and the door began to splinter inward. The

recruits in the audience were becoming very nervous, and they all waited quietly to see

what would happen. They were only too aware that they were unarmed.

At the third pounding, the d'Alemberts sprang into action. Leaping to their feet, they

bounded over the other startled recruits and raced to the front of the room. The

bodyguards, facing the threat from the door, barely saw them coming. The two

DesPlainians grabbed the men's wrists and twisted the knives out of their grasp, Jules

handling two to his wife's one. Vonnie disarmed her bodyguard, then turned her attention

to Scarface. The rebel leader had started into the next room for an escape attempt

through a back window. With a flying tackle, Vonnie caught him and dragged him to the

floor.

The door broke apart completely at the fourth impact of the battering ram, and in

charged a host of Tshombase's men, all well-armed with knives. They were expecting

resistance, but found little. A few of the unarmed recruits tried to make a break past

them and out the door, but were stopped by the threats from Tshombase's men.

Sullenly, the would-be rebels returned to their places on the floor.

After a moment, when he was sure it was safe, Tshombase himself strode into the room.

The big man put his hands on his hips and looked around, a humorless smile on his ebony

features. His eyes fastened on Jules, and he nodded. "You were right, Brecht," he said.

"A rat's nest indeed."

The recruits and the bodyguards alike turned to glare their hatred at the two newcomers

who had betrayed them. Jules ignored them and looked directly at Tshombase. "I told

you we could be of service to your organization."

Scarface was cursing Yvonne loudly as she held him pinned down and helpless.

Tshombase turned in that direction and grinned at the man who thought to replace him.

"So it's you, Luis. I thought you were smarter than this. Why must I always be

disappointed in people?"

He nodded to some of his men. "Take our friend Luis to the office and see if you can't

persuade him to tell us who else has been playing his little game."

Tshombase's troops herded all their prisoners out the door, leaving the mayor alone with

the d'Alemberts. The big man looked at the two DesPlainians and said, "I really had my

doubts about you, but you delivered as you promised. Why did you decide to go along

with me instead of Luis? He would probably have offered you a higher position."

"I prefer to bet on a sure thing," Jules said, looking unafraid straight into Tshombase's

eyes. And, in part, that was the d'Alemberts' real reason. By proving their loyalty to the

present mayor, they were sure they could land a job of some sort in his organization,

which was already set up, rather than having to wait for Luis to arrange his own

administration-assuming that first he succeeded.

But there was more of a reason than that. Tanya Boros must already have contact

established with Tshombase, with regular channels of communication. If a new mayor

came into the village, there would be delays while new channels were created-and the

d'Alemberts had already had their fill of delays. That was why Jules had secretly

approached Tshombase and told him of the meeting tonight, to help him smash the revolt

before it even began.

Tshombase looked from Jules to Yvonne and back again. "I like the way you two work,"

he said. "Starting tomorrow, I'm going to make you the guards outside my office. It's a

simple job-you just stand by and make sure nobody gets in to disturb me while I'm

working. Think you can handle that?"

The SOTE agents were thrilled; that was a far better assignment than they would have

dared hope for. It would put them right at the center of village activity, and allow them to

see exactly who went in and out of Tshombase's office. "All smooth," Jules said

confidently. "No problems."

"Good. I don't like problems. Report to duty first thing tomorrow-and you'll be working at

double your present salaries, by the way. Tshombase treats his people right. In the

meantime, get some sleep; you've earned it."

Over the course of the next few days, though, the d'Alemberts began to doubt whether

they'd been as lucky as they originally thought. Their job of guarding Tshombase's office

turned out to be quite monotonous. They never had any trouble with unauthorized visitors

trying to intrude; perhaps people had learned long ago that Tshombase did not relish

interruptions. Those visitors who did come were either members of Tshombase's gang,

with whom they were already familiar, or else villagers who came by to ask the mayor

for some favor or another. The walls of the building were thin enough that, by straining a

little, the d'Alemberts could hear every word said within the office but the business was

usually so trivial that there was no point. After a while they stopped listening to

everything, and only paid attention when there was a chance something important might

occur-but nothing important ever seemed to happen.

On a couple of occasions when Tshombase was out and the office was empty, Jules

took the opportunity to search the room while his wife covered for him outside. But the

searches proved as fruitless as the eavesdropping. There was very little paper of any

sort on Gastonia, and Tshombase had no incriminating evidence or useful information

lying around. His business dealings were all verbal; he knew full well that no one dared

double-cross him, so why bother to keep track of promises?

After more than a week on the job the d'Alemberts were beginning to despair that

anything would come of the promotion they had worked so hard to obtain. Then, when

they were standing guard one evening shift, they heard a distant humming sound that

made them exchange startled glances. As the sound grew closer it became more

distinctive: the low buzz of a personal copter coming in for a nearby landing. At last

Tshombase was going to have an important visitor.

As the copter landed outside and its motor turned off, Jules and Yvonne drew

themselves up to full attention. Moments later two people walked through the door and

up the stairs to Tshombase's second-floor office. Both were clad in boots and slacks,

with heavy hooded parkas of thick white fur. The first woman Vonnie did not recognize,

although she assumed from her husband's description that it must be Tanya Boros. She

paid little attention to the erstwhile Duchess of Swingleton, however, because the woman

behind Boros was far more important to them. On the other side of the doorway she

could almost feel Jules tensing while Lady A walked right up to them as though she

owned the building, and perhaps the whole planet. Vonnie had seen Lady A once before,

on Earth, but she'd been following someone else and hadn't known Lady A's importance

then. She did now.

Tanya Boros stopped before the door and stared at Jules for a moment. "You're the

hunter who came to the house, aren't you?"

"Yes, gospozha." Jules was uncomfortable at having her attention focused on him.

"Why didn't you tell me you worked for Tshombase?" "I didn't, then."

"Congratulations on your promotion," Boros said cynically. Lady A snorted. "Stop wasting

time with the hired help," she said. Brushing past Boros, she opened the door to

Tshombase's office and strode confidently in, without either knocking or waiting to be

announced. She was obviously a woman used to going where she chose without

opposition. Neither Jules nor Yvonne made any move to stop her.

Tanya Boros followed her leader into the office, and closed the door behind them. Since

there was no one else in the hall to see them, the d'Alemberts had no qualms about

listening in on the conversation through the thin walls.

"Have you got the people I asked for?" Lady A demanded of Tshombase without

prelude.

It was amazing to hear Tshombase, the arrogant mayor of the village, speaking in

respectful tones to a woman half his size. "Yes, I've arranged it with the Governor. When

do you want them?"

"I'll be staying at the house until the day after tomorrow. They can come on the ship with

me when I leave. I'll send the copter over to pick them up sometime that morning."

"Yes, Your Ladyship." Tshombase paused, as though hesitant to continue. "Uh, Your

Ladyship, about my own transfer..."

"You'll stay here for now," Lady A said coldly. "When a person does a good job for me. I

keep him on there to continue doing a good job. When we are successful, the rewards

will be worth the wait."

"I know, Your Ladyship," Tshombase mumbled. "It's just that this planet is so miserable

and cold. . ."

"And safe," Lady A chided him. "At least here you don't have SOTE checking down your

throat every few minutes. I don't think they'll ever know how important Gastonia has been

in our plans. They gave us a freedom here that we'd never be able to get on any ordinary

world."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Tshombase said, having been properly upbraided for his mild

insolence. "Who will be on your list for next time?"

"There won't be a next time." Then-probably in response to some unvocalized

expression-she added, "That's right. Operation Annihilate is almost ready. You won't

have to worry about staying here that much longer."

"That is good news, Your Ladyship."

But not to Jules and Yvonne. As they stood at their posts watching Lady A and Tanya

Boros leave, they realized how desperately close they were cutting their margin of

safely. Lady A had sounded most confident that her uprising against the Empire would

succeed-an uprising to be launched by a campaign known ominously as Operation

Annihilate.

Chapter 12

The House on the Hill

The d'Alemberts had a great deal to discuss when they went home from duty that night.

"Tshombase mentioned the Governor," Vonnie mused aloud. "He must be on Lady A's

payroll, too."

"He'd have to be," Jules agreed. "From the way they were talking, Lady A visits Gastonia

fairly regularly. I doubt whether any ships could take off or land here without people in

the garrison knowing about it-nor could they have built that big house without attracting

someone's attention. The only explanation is that the Governor and some of his staff

were paid to look the other way."

He smashed his palm with his fist. "Lady A was right; the Service provided her with the

perfect breeding ground for her conspiracy. We rounded up all the prospective recruits

and located them here, in one place, for her to take her pick. The planet was so quiet

and well-run that we hardly ever thought about it, a person sent here was as good as

dead, so we forgot all about him. It's obvious now that they kept it that way on purpose.

Where would be a better place to hide a conspiracy than among a group of former

conspirators who are now presumably defused and harmless? It makes me so angry that

they've fooled us so badly for so long."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Yvonne couldn't help smiling slightly. It was

hardly Jules's fault that this operation had continued this long; someone else in the

Service should have reasoned it out long ago. But her husband so identified himself with

SOTE that he felt personally responsible for every slip the Service made. But then, she

realized, it was that very dedication to his ideals that made her love him so deeply.

"The problem is, though, what are we going to do about it?" By asking her question,

Vonnie was hoping to nudge her husband gently onto a more positive line of thought.

"We can't let Lady A escape again, not when she's this close."

"I agree. But she's only going to be here another day and a half; we'll have to move

quickly. Once she's off-planet, we won't have any way to get her."

Jules nodded. "We'll have to attack the house tomorrow night, before she leaves."

"Is there time?" Vonnie wondered. "We don't have a copter to take us there, and from

your description it's easily a full day's march away. Plus you mentioned guards with

blasters and an infrared scanning system. If we were on a civilized planet we could find

the equipment to get around all that-but what do we do here on a world where stone

axes are the ultimate weapon and running water is but an idle reverie'?"

"We improvise, ma cherie, we improvise," said Jules-and the smile on his lips told

Yvonne he was already formulating a plan.

They had little time for sleep that night, just a couple of hours between the time they

thrashed out their attack strategy and the time they needed to leave. It was still long

before sunrise when they left the primitive hovel they'd called home for the past few

months. Whatever the outcome of their impending assault on Lady A's citadel, they knew

they would never be coming back here again.

The initial part of their plan was one that gave them a great deal of satisfaction-stealing

the sleigh from old Zolotin, the driver who had cheated them on their arrival. It was a

simple enough matter to break into Zolotin's barn and hitch the docile yagi to the sled.

With any luck it would be several hours before the theft was discovered. There was little

they could do to hide the sleigh's tracks out of the village, but they figured there was little

likelihood that anyone except Zolotin would be eager to follow them. Other people had

their own work to do, and there were more profitable ways to spend their time than

chasing into the hills for a stolen sleigh.

Once they were several kilometers away from the village and dawn was beginning to

glow in the eastern sky they relaxed and got the rest they needed before their big

adventure that night. They took turns, each driving the yagi for a few hours while the

other caught some sleep. The yagi was slightly faster than they remembered it, but still

not the speediest of beasts; they could have walked more rapidly, but then they would

have arrived at their destination exhausted. This way they would be fresh and ready for

action when they arrived.

They stopped twice during the day for the yagi to rest and browse on some of the low

scrub vegetation in the area. Jules had been tracing the path from memory, hoping he

remembered the various turns and twists in the trail his hunting party had taken-and also

hoping he could recreate his wandering pattern during the blizzard. The land started

looking more and more familiar, and just as the sun was setting he spotted it. "There!" he

cried, pointing at the distant hill where the house reflected the light of the departing sun.

Yvonne squinted until she, too, could make it out. "It's still awfully far away," she said.

"Their scanners have quite a range," Jules said. "We should be safe enough here. We'll

wait until nightfall and then move in closer."

Even after it was dark, the house could still be seen as a glimmering light too steady to

be a star. Quickly, then, the two agents prepared their makeshift apparatus for fooling

the guards' scanners. Yvonne lay face down in the sleigh and Jules covered her over with

a fur blanket they had brought with them. After covering the blanket with a layer of snow,

he took the reins of the sleigh firmly in his hand and crawled under the blanket with his

wife, disturbing the snow as little as possible. Gently, then, he urged the yagi on its

plodding way, leaving just enough room out of the top of the blanket for him to see out

and guide the beast in the proper direction.

The d'Alemberts were hoping that, because of Gastonia's technological backwardness,

Lady A would not have bothered to install one of the more sophisticated infrared

detection systems, relying on a simpler one to suit her needs. Infrared detectors worked

by sensing the heat difference between an object and its surroundings. If they had

chosen to move ahead on foot, they would be radiating energy at the normal body

temperature of thirty-seven celsius, and would stand out easily against the much colder

snowdrifts around them.

By covering themselves over with snow, however, they hoped to mask their radiative

effect. The more sophisticated infrared systems would not be fooled, but a simplified

detector would see no further than the snow that covered them. There was no way to

similarly disguise the body heat of the yagi but then, they didn't want to. The yagi was

part of their plan.

Minute by minute, meter by meter, Jules drove them closer to the hill and to the guard

station at the bottom. If his plan was working correctly, the guards would see on their

screens the image of a yagi drawing an apparently empty sleigh, yet coming unerringly

toward them. He was hoping that would pique their curiosity enough to come and

investigate what was happening.

There was a small stand of trees near the base of the hill, and that was where Jules

stopped the sleigh. There were three guards manning the station, and at least one of

them would remain at his post while the sleigh was being investigated; if the sleigh were

out in the open, he would see two figures suddenly jump out, and he could send the

alarm before the d'Alemberts could stop him. But infrared could not see through objects

like trees, so whoever stayed back at the station would have no way of knowing what

happened here.

Jules and Vonnie waited.

If an empty sleigh had seemed suspicious, its sudden stopping would appear even more

so. After ten minutes of silence, the d'Alemberts could hear the sounds of two people

crunching through the snow toward them. The guards came slowly, not wanting to take

any risks; they probably had their blasters drawn, though the SOTE agents couldn't see

them, and they were approaching from both sides of the sleigh to avoid a possible

ambush.

Jules carefully gauged the sounds of the footsteps and, at his whispered command, the

two DesPlainians leaped into action. They tossed off the blanket that had covered them,

sending a fountain of snow rising into the air and startling the two men who'd been

approaching them. Even as the guards' attention was momentarily distracted by the

shower of white, the d'Alemberts jumped out of the sleigh to either side. The two men

could not react half as fast as their DesPlainian adversaries; within seconds they were

lying unconscious on the ground and they had not even had a chance to fire their blasters

or in any way warn their comrade back at the guard station.

The SOTS agents exchanged their crudely made village furs for the better parkas worn

by the guards, then gagged the men and tied them to a tree. The d'Alemberts took their

blasters and felt a little more relieved now that they were again armed with modern

weapons. Jules also took one of the guards' pocket phones and, leaving the visual

transmitter turned off, called back to the station. "The damned thing's empty," he

reported, cupping his hands over his mouth to disguise his voice slightly. "We'll bring it in

for a more thorough inspection."

He and Vonnie got back in the sleigh and drove openly toward the boulder that concealed

the guard station. The one guard left in the station would see only the two warm figures

sitting in the front of the sleigh, and would assume they were his compatriots.

He paid for that assumption-with a solid blow to his head a few minutes later. The

d'Alemberts were in sole possession of the guard station-and not a shot had been fired

to warn the occupants of the house that they were under attack.

"From now on it gets risky," Jules said. "We can't just walk in the front door, and I have

no way of knowing whether the windows are wired for alarms or not."

"We'll just have to chance it, then. We've played slash and-grab before, if it comes to

that. It might help if we could grab Lady A as a hostage; they wouldn't shoot at us if we

had her for a shield. Where do you think she'd be?"

"Third floor, more than likely," Jules surmised. "On a world without copters, the top story

is naturally the safest."

Under cover of darkness, the two agents crept up the steep hill until they stood beside

the large house. Silently they walked around it, observing its construction with a

professional's eye for detail. When they reached the back-a part Jules had not seen

before-they found both the copter pad and the small launching site for Lady A's

spaceship. Both copter and ship were waiting there, for which the d'Alemberts were

grateful; they would have their choice of transportation out of here.

Finally spotting an ascent route that looked a little more promising than the others, Jules

started his slow climb up the outer wall of the house. The mixed construction materials of

brick, stone and timber gave him narrow finger- and toeholds; even so, he needed every

scrap of his circus training to cling to the building and make his way up three stories to a

perch beside a darkened window.

Yvonne stood by on the ground below, blaster in hand. If Jules's attempt to open the

window should set off an alarm, she was prepared to race into the house from the

ground floor while Jules was entering from the top, creating havoc from two directions at

once and hopefully confusing the occupants . enough to let the DesPlainians triumph. But

she was hoping such heroics would not be necessary.

Jules inspected the window carefully. A gentle touch proved it was locked, but the lock

was merely a mechanical latch, not an electronic mechanism. He saw no wires or

electrical connections of any kind around the window -a hopeful sign. With a sigh, he

braced himself for the worst and, using the full strength of his DesPlainian muscles, he

gave a sudden intense push against the latch.

The latch snapped with a light spring and the window gave the meagerest of creaks as it

opened, but other than that there was no sound. The alarm may have been a silent one,

keyed to go off only at one specific location, but after waiting at his position for another

minute Jules could hear no indication of hurried activity within the house. Maybe they had

been lucky after all; maybe Lady A had felt that no one could get past the infrared

detectors without special equipment unavailable on Gastonia, and had not bothered with

alarms on the house itself. Jules slipped inside the room and looked around.

He found himself in an auxiliary bedroom, currently unoccupied. Crossing to the hall door,

he opened it and looked out. The corridor beyond was well-lit but deserted. Jules closed

the door again and locked it temporarily, assuring himself some momentary privacy in

here.

Stripping the sheets and blankets off the bed, he fastened them together into a long rope

that he lowered out the window to his waiting wife below. She tucked her blaster into her

parka and scrambled up the makeshift cord; within seconds she was standing beside her

husband, who then pulled the rope up after her to avoid leaving telltale signs of their

entrance.

Unlocking the bedroom door once more, the d'Alemberts checked to make sure the

hallway was still deserted, then slipped out of their bedroom and along the corridor. They

went in separate directions, trying doors along the corridor as they went. Most of the

doors were locked, and they chose for the moment not to force their way in; if someone

was inside, the SOTE agents might not be able to silence him before he gave the alarm

to the rest of the house. They would try the unlocked doors first.

Vonnie found an unlocked door and signaled her success to Jules, who came over to join

her. There was no light coming from under the sill, so they quietly opened the door and

slipped into the room beyond.

As their eyes grew accustomed to the dark they could see that they'd found an office of

some sort, with a desk and computer files standing about the room. With the door closed

behind them, shutting off the light from the hallway, the only illumination in the room came

from the double windows, where dim starlight filtered in. There'd been no pocket flashes

available in the village, of course, and working in this darkness was impossible. "We'll

have to risk turning on a light," Jules whispered.

Both agents squinted against the glare as Jules palmed the wall switch and the room

was suddenly alive with light. The DesPlainians stood motionless for over a minute,

listening for any sign that the light had betrayed them, but when there was none they

breathed a little easier. By unspoken agreement, Jules began a quick search of one side

of the room while Yvonne concentrated on the other.

Jules's area had a telecom unit and a computer file. Turning on the computer memory, he

started playing with it, cuing it almost at random in the hopes of finding some important

clue. He had no way of knowing in advance under what headings Lady A and Tanya

Boros filed their information, but he could check a few references. He asked the

computer for information about Gastonia's Governor, and was rewarded with a long

personal file detailing not only the Governor's life and background, but also his

involvement with the conspiracy. To Jules's chagrin it dated back more than a decade,

almost from the day he was assigned here. Checking some of the listed

cross-references, Jules learned which of the Governor's aides were also involved. It

turned out to be nearly a third of the garrison's total staff-a dismaying thought indeed.

Yvonne, meanwhile, was searching through the drawers of the desk, and found an item

of interest-a small vial of nitrobarb, the most potent truth serum in the Galaxy. Lady A

probably kept it on hand in case one of her trusted servants turned out to be a spy from

SOTE and she needed to question him. In any case, Vonnie pocketed the vial against

possible future need and moved around the desk to a spot behind the door.

Just as she did so, the door flew suddenly open and Lady A stood in the threshold. She

had a stun-gun drawn and pointed at Jules before he could reach for his own weapon-but

Vonnie was behind the door and out of the woman's sight.

"So," Lady A said coldly, "we have a visitor after all. When Tanya told me about her

uninvited guest of a few weeks ago, I thought it might be someone from SOTE, so I set

a little trap. I knew you'd be here eventually. I've got a vial of nitrobarb ready for you."

Lady A stepped forward, past the edge of the door. As she did so, Vonnie reached out

quickly and knocked the gun from her hand. The instant his wife made her move, Jules

made his. Racing forward, he grabbed his adversary, spun her around and gripped her

neck in a hammerlock. At the same time Vonnie closed the door once more and locked it.

Lady A apparently had been alone, and they wanted to make sure no one else joined the

party.

"I've got a few questions I'd like to ask you, too," Jules said. He held his blaster with its

nozzle up against Lady A's throat.

Lady A held her nerve. With a voice carved from glacial ice she said, "You know you

don't dare use that on me. I know too much that you want to find out."

She was absolutely right, Jules knew, but he had to play out his hand. "I can make life

damned unpleasant for you if you don't talk."

"Your puny tortures mean nothing to me. I presume you know that some wills are too

strong to be broken by mere physical pain. Mine is one of them. In the end you would

merely kill me, and that would avail you nothing."

"It would sure put a crimp in your plans, though, wouldn't it?"

"My personal ones, yes. But as for saving your precious Empire, my death won't matter

in the slightest. The plans are already set, and they will go forward now whether I'm alive

or not."

It was painful for Jules to admit that a woman whom he held at gunpoint had him over a

barrel, but the situation was close to the truth. Calmly, refusing to be angered by her

needling tone, he considered his alternatives.

He might try torturing her to get the information he needed, despite her boasts that she

wouldn't crack. He couldn't torture her in the house, though, because her screams of pain

would bring everyone running-and if he gagged her to stop the screaming, she wouldn't

be able to talk. Even if he assumed that he and Vonnie could somehow get her away

from the house, they could not guarantee the woman would tell them the truth, even

under torture. Lady A, he was sure, was quite capable of constructing smooth lies to

mislead them and stall until her plans were already in operation and it was too late to do

anything. Even if, by some miracle, they could get Lady A completely out of the house,

into her spaceship and off to some other world, the closest planet to Gastonia with a fully

equipped Service base was more than a day's flight away at top speed. There would be

facilities there for questioning her more thoroughly-but invaluable time would have been

lost.

Vonnie could read her husband well enough by now to know the processes going on in

his mind. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the vial of nitrobarb and held it up for

Jules to see. "Perhaps this would help," she said, speaking for the first time. "She'd

obviously been planning to use it on you."

The existence of the nitrobarb changed things considerably. It was the strongest truth

serum ever invented; no one under its influence could lie or withhold information. The

drawback, though, was its side effect-the drug proved fatal fifty percent of the time.

Lady A was a veritable mine of information; it would be a shame to waste much of it if

she should die after only one session. He knew, too, that he and Vonnie were not

equipped to give Lady A the most thorough cross-examination; the experts at

Headquarters, with all their computer references to back them up could make each

answer solve a dozen separate questions. Using nitrobarb on Lady A here would be

squandering a potentially valuable resource.

Still, he had little choice. They had to learn more about Operation Annihilate, and it had to

be in a hurry. Wasteful or not, there was no other way to learn the truth before it was too

late.

Jules looked at the vial of clear fluid and nodded. "We'll give it to her," he said grimly.

He could feel Lady A stiffen as he led her to a chair and forced her to sit down. "No

wonder your side will lose the struggle," she said haughtily. "You make too many

mistakes. The pawns make their own decisions, and even when they capture the

opposing queen they don't know how to use her."

Vonnie had gone back to the desk drawer and found a hyposprayer to administer the

nitrobarb. "And what would you do in our position?" she asked sweetly as she returned

to the prisoner.

Lady A laughed coldly. "It's not my business to give you advice."

"Then don't criticize, either," Jules said as his wife administered the injection.

Lady A said not another word. She simply smiled at Jules, a cold and evil smile that

vanished from her face only when she fell into the stupor that was the first stage of

nitrobarb's effect.

It would be another twenty minutes before Lady A passed into the second stage and

was ready for questioning. Jules and Yvonne spent the intervening time by continuing the

search they'd begun before Lady A had interrupted them. Jules asked the computer files

about C, but received no information at all. either the computer had no information about

the conspiracy's mysterious leader or else it was filed under a special codeword that he

would never guess.

He asked next for information on Karla Jost and received a complete readout on her life

story-including the fact that she had left the planet under the auspices of Project

Resurrection. Checking this cross-reference provided him with a wealth of

information-most particularly the names of the people who'd been removed, the dates of

removal, and the planets to which they'd been taken. He asked for, and received, a

printout of the list, and tucked the paper into a pocket.

Vonnie, meanwhile, had found nothing new in her search of the desk, and by this time

Lady A was starting to come around again. The two agents crowded up close to her so

as not to miss a word she said.

"Who is CT' was Jules's first question.

"I don't know his real identity," Lady A said slowly. "Is he the leader of your conspiracy?"

"Yes."

"Where is he based?" "I don't know."

Jules was gnashing his teeth in frustration. This was the hard part of questioning a

person under nitrobarb; the subject had to tell the truth, but he told no more than the

precise answer to the question asked. Knowing the proper question was an art in

itself-one that his sister Yvette had been better trained in that he had. "Tell me exactly

how you communicate with him, then."

"He has a series of telecom numbers in various sectors that relay through a subcom link

directly to him, wherever he is. You call him through those numbers; if he chooses to

respond, his answer is printed out on your telecom screen."

A clever way of operating anonymously-and almost impossible to trace, Jules thought.

Still, if SOTE could learn the particular subcom frequency C used, they might be able to

tap in and monitor some of the calls. "Tell me the telecom numbers," he said.

Lady A rattled off a string of numbers, and Jules copied them down on the back of the

Project Resurrection printout. When she'd given him all that she could, the woman

stopped abruptly, and it was up to Jules to think of a new question.

"What does C look like?" he asked.

"Tall and thin with thick black hair and gray eyes. High cheekbones, sharp chin, crow's

feet about the eyes. He dresses well, but is not very muscular or athletic."

That description narrowed the search down a bit, but it was still far too general. "How old

do you think he is?"

"Middle fifties, I'd say."

"Do you have any other superiors?"

"No, he's the only person above me in the organization." Jules next started a series of

questions about Lady A herself. Her name, she said, was really Gretchen Baumann and

she came from the planet Kiesel. She was forty-three years old, and had been a

member of this conspiracy for the past eighteen years, slowly working her way up the

organizational ladder until she reached this exalted position. Her chief asset had been

that she'd had no criminal record of any sort, no way for the Service to trace her

activities.

The purpose of the conspiracy was quite simple: to destroy the Stanley dynasty and to

place C on the Throne as the new Emperor. It was not yet decided whether Lady A

would marry him to become Empress, or whether she would take a secondary post as

Chancellor. The conspiracy had a navy and armed forces of its own, well-trained and

waiting for their cue to move in and take over.

"How do you know what's going on in SOTET' Jules asked. "We've had hypnotic

instructions implanted in the minds of most top-level secretaries within the Service," Lady

A said. "Every few days-or whenever they learn anything of vital importance-they phone

a special number and relate everything they've learned since their last phone call. Then

they completely forget they've made the call, and go on about their business as normal."

That was a chilling thought. No wonder it had been so hard to trace down the leaks-all

the people who betrayed the Service honestly thought they were being loyal and, short of

administering-tough mind probes, they would test out truthfully when asked whether they

were traitors. Jules wanted to ask for more specifics, such as key names of those under

such hypnotic compulsion, but time was pressing and there was still another crucial topic

he had to cover.

"Tell me all you can about Operation Annihilate," he said. "Operation Annihilate is the

code name for our attack on the Empire. Our entire navy will rendezvous at a point in

space and attack Earth in force. We have more than enough strength to wipe out the

fleet normally stationed there. Our own fleet is commanded by Admiral Shen Tzu, who is

currently operating as an ordinary pirate. Our original plan was to attack during Princess

Edna's wedding. The robot duplicate of Lady Bloodstar was supposed to kill both the

Emperor and the Princess, leaving the succession in doubt and causing chaos at the

court, while our ships massed and destroyed the Imperial Fleet stationed at Earth. It was

you who stopped the assassinations, and somehow the Navy prevented Captain Ling's

contingent of ships from achieving its rendezvous. Full implementation of Operation

Annihilate was delayed until a better time."

"And when is that better time?" Vonnie interrupted. "Right after the Princess's ascension

to the Throne," Lady A said emotionlessly. "SOTE will be expecting us to attack during

the ceremony, so we intend to wait thirty-six hours and hit them after they relax a bit.

Confidence in the new Empress's abilities to command will be a little shaky, and she may

make tactical mistakes out of inexperience that will give the victory to us. Again, our

ships will come from bases scattered throughout the Empire and rendezvous at a given

point in space on the day before the ceremony, then depart as a group for Earth."

"Where is the rendezvous point?" Jules asked.

Lady A gave him a string of numbers, which he again jotted down. "How many ships are

there in your fleet, and what sizes are they?"

"We have one thousand and fifty-eight. Most are small personal fighters, but we have

twelve Galaxy-class cruisers, fifteen Constellation cruisers, fifty Nova superdestroyers. .

."

A sudden uproar in the hall outside interrupted the proceedings. "There must be an

intruder in there!" the d'Alemberts heard Tanya Boros cry. "Blast the door in, quickly!"

The door to the room began glowing as blaster beams from outside concentrated their

enormous power on it. Within seconds there would be nothing between the SOTS agents

and an army of unknown size waiting to gun them down.

Their visit at this house was coming rapidly to an end.

Chapter 13

Pias's Offer

The three ships drifted in subspace, waiting for their quarry to arrive. The word "drift"

was a relative term, for they were really moving at more than a hundred times the speed

of light; nonetheless, compared to the speeds that were possible in subspace theirs was

a veritable crawl. They didn't want to move too quickly and possibly overshoot their

target.

Ordinarily the bridge of a pirate ship was no place for idle visitors, and Yvette would not

have been welcomed. But as the woman who had the specialized knowledge of how to

combat the Paradise's defenses, she was able to insist most forcefully that she indeed

belonged here; and since Fortier/"Rocheville" had been put in charge of this particular

operation, she had an ally able to accommodate her demands.

They were cruising between the planets Hsoli and Kuragana, waiting for the Paradise to

come by on its regular run. Its route was known as precisely as though it were on tracks,

so there was just the question of waiting for it. This time, much as Yvette hated to think

about the loss of money and effort they'd put into it, the Paradise would not escape the

pirate trap.

There was a blip on the long-distance scanners, indicating the Paradise had shown up

exactly on schedule. Fortier barked a command and the trio of pirate vessels speeded up

to match their target's velocity, simultaneously converging on its position. Coming as they

did from three different directions, the Paradise would have no option; it could never

hope to outrun all of them, so its only choice was to drop back into normal space and

play the standard game of pirate and prey.

At first, events followed the same pattern as before. All the ships left subspace at

precisely the same moment, and the pirates began their interference pattern to prevent

the Paradise from beaming a message to the Navy. At the same time, the Paradise

withdrew its engines into the body of the ship, as it had done before.

"That's a crucial spot right there," Yvette pointed out to Fortier and the other real pirates

on the bridge. "As long as the engines and the power source are working, he's in

command."

"But we can't use our ships' guns to destroy the engines without blowing holes in the

Paradise," Fortier said. "We want to take it intact."

"Then send some of your men up inside there with hand weapons," Yvette told him.

"You've got to cut his power and particularly you've got to stop him from turning on the

ultragrav. All his crewmembers are DesPlainians, and they'll outmaneuver your fighters

every time under high-grav circumstances."

Fortier nodded and gave the appropriate orders. One of the other ships sent out a team

of men-not to the open airlock as had happened on the last attack, but to the underbelly

of the Paradise. There, in their protective sheath, the ship's engines were withdrawn and

silent. Using even high-powered hand blasters was not the most efficient way of

destroying them, but the pirates did not want to suffer the fate of their sister ship that

had been captured and humiliated. If this slow, painstaking work was the way to win, that

was the way they'd do it.

It took nearly an hour of concerted effort, but eventually the pirate forces burned their

way through the tough plating of the Paradise and were able to dismantle her drive and

power systems. Assured, then, that the ultragrav could not be used against them when

they entered, attack teams from each of the three ships swarmed through the airlock into

the Paradise itself. At Yvette's suggestion, though, other pirates remained back on their

ships to guard against incursions from the Paradise's defenders.

Suddenly the unexpected happened. Like a plant shooting off spores, the Paradise

suddenly shot off more than a hundred lifepods in all directions. In essence, Pias was

surrendering the Paradise itself in exchange for the safety of its passengers and crew,

knowing how fearsome were the odds against it. The move took the pirates completely

by surprise-and Yvette pretended it surprised her as well, though she'd known in

advance precisely what would happen.

Fortier now had a choice. None of the lifepods was equipped with a subspace motor,

meaning they could only travel at less than light speed; each one did have its own

automatic subcom unit, however, transmitting a repeated distress signal and location for

the Navy to pick up. Fortier could set his ships to the task of rounding up the pods, since

they were moving so slowly-but since they were radiating outward in all directions that

would be a very time-consuming job ... and in the meantime, his ships could not jam all

the subcom transmissions the pods- were emitting. The Navy could be on its way here

before he'd collected even half the pods, and this mission would be as much a failure as

the last.

Fortier chose instead to go after the Paradise itself. (In actuality the choice was not

hard, since it was part of Yvette's plan, but it was good to have a solid reason behind his

action when Admiral Shen questioned him about the matter later, as he surely would.)

Although the passengers had gone and probably taken most of their money and

valuables with them, the ship and its furnishings had an intrinsic value in themselves, and

would keep this expedition from being a total loss.

The boarding party was quite surprised, however, to find that an auxiliary generator still

maintained a one-gee field within the Paradise, and that one lone figure was waiting for

them. Pias Bavol was calmly seated in the central casino, playing out a game of solitaire

at one of the card tables. He looked up, tipped his hat and waved as the pirates entered.

"Good day, gentlemen, I've been expecting you."

"Who are you?" asked the leader of the assault team. "Brian Sangers, at your service;

owner and operator of the once-proud and now temporarily defunct Paradise gambling

ship. Please be so kind as to inform your captain that I offer him the privilege of making a

deal with me."

The pirate waved his blaster at Pias. "You don't look in much position to deal with

anybody."

"Oh, put that silly thing away, it's liable to go off. Killing me will gain you nothing. I am a

man of small personal fortune, all my cash being tied up in this enterprise. The money

and important guests have all departed in the lifepods, and there's no one who'd pay

much ransom for me. The Navy will soon be coming in response to the distress calls from

the pods, so since you did such an effective job of ruining the Paradise's engines, and

since all three of your ships combined couldn't tow this one very far-you'll have to leave

my vessel here for salvage. The drapes and furnishings are all quite expensive, but

subject to horrible depreciation; if you simply strip the place bare you won't receive even

one percent of what it's all worth. The only asset you'll find of any great value is my

intellect, and that requires my willing cooperation before it does you any good. So stop

pretending you can bully me, and escort me to your captain."

The pirate was stunned. Never before had he encountered anyone with so much raw

nerve as the dandy who sat across the room from him, grinning confidently. People in his

position were supposed to be terrified, not demanding. Unsure precisely how to react-but

not wanting to seem weak in front of his men-he said gruffly, "You'll see the captain,

that's for sure. This way." He made a big show of motioning with his gun, even though

Pias was obviously not afraid of it.

Pias donned a spacesuit and accompanied the assault team leader back to the main ship

while the rest of the pirates were scouring the Paradise for anything of value they could

find. As Pias was marched onto the pirate bridge, his gaze locked onto Yvette's. Though

each was delighted to see the other after such a long separation-the longest since they

were married they had their own particular roles to play that did not allow for tender

reunions.

"My dear Mila," Pias said, "you appear to have lived down even below my expectations

of you. Small wonder these blasterbats were as successful as they were. They had the

queen of treachery as their guiding star."

"Still mouthing off, aren't you?" Yvette retorted. She looked to Fortier. "This guy's mouth

will still be working weeks after the rest of him's dead and rotting. He's a stinking

liar-don't believe a word he says."

"Coming from you, my dear," said Pias, "that's a high compliment indeed."

Fortier stepped between the two to put an end to the bickering. "I understand you've got

something to say to me, Sangers."

"Yes, if you're the man in charge. Your organization is obviously in need of new blood.

Your first attempt to take my ship was a dismal failure, and your second attempt, even

with inside knowledge, is not going to turn out much better. You lack the imagination and

inventiveness to change with the times; you're still doing things the way your grandfather

did."

"And I suppose you think you're the man to do this for us, eh?"

"Of course, or I wouldn't be here. I could just as easily have escaped in one of the

lifepods, along with everyone else." "Then why didn't you? You could always have

started up another gambling ship."

"The profit margin was too small. Why should I content myself with a meager five or ten

percent when, in a pirate organization with talent and imagination, I could rake in far

more?"

"I don't have the authority to deal with you on that level," Fortier said.

Pias gave a loud snort. "Then take me to someone who does. I hate doing business with

underlings."

In due course, Pias was taken before Admiral Shen and given a chance to explain his

plans more fully. He gave a variation of the speech he'd given to Fortier and the other

pirates on the bridge, but this one was even more filled with boasts of his intellectual

abilities. Shen sat back and listened to this bombast with a barely concealed grin. "So

you're offering to become my master tactician, are you?" he asked when Pias had finally

finished.

"Not at all," Pias replied. "I'm offering to let you become my partner."

"As simple as that, eh?"

"Why not? People sometimes make business relationships much too complicated. I'll

accept your handshake."

Shen's grin was broadening. "By Fross, I like you. I don't know when I've been so

entertained. If I were a nobleman I might even keep you around as my official jester."

"Then it's you who would be the fool for passing up what I have to offer. With my ideas

and your resources we could easily double your income in the next year."

"Do you have any idea what my resources are?"

"Only the vaguest. I imagine a hundred men and maybe a dozen ships."

"Then it's your imagination that's too small. Your numbers don't even begin to approach

the actuality."

"I merely estimated what I thought would be standard for a pirate operation like yours.

My imagination is quite elastic it can expand to fit the resources put in."

Shen gave another laugh. "No matter how elastic your imagination is, it would still stretch

beyond the breaking point to learn of the plans in which I play a major role. In less than a

week, I shall be totally beyond the need to play the game of pirate any longer-and so

your puny little schemes don't interest me in the slightest."

He pressed a button on his desk and three men, all armed with blasters, entered the

room. "I'm sorry to make our acquaintance so brief," Shen said. "You've amused me for

a while, but now our ways must part." Then, to his guards, he added, "Take him out into

the jungle and dispose of him."

Pias doffed his hat and held it over his chest. "I assure you, Admiral, you're no more

sorry than I am. We could have made a pile of rubles together."

Then, before anyone else in the room could move, Pias whipped out the ministunner he

kept tucked away behind the rose on his hatband. The tiny gun gave a maximum stun of

six hours, but Pias only had it set on number four-a two-hour stun. With three quick

bursts he was able to fell the pirates who had come to take him away. He turned back to

Shen, but found himself facing down the muzzle of the blaster that had been disguised as

the handle of Shen's scimitar. "Good work," said the pirate leader. "Ordinarily after a

demonstration like that I might indeed offer you some post in my organization. But time is

very short, and I just won't have the chance to run a thorough security check on your

background. My original plan still stands, I'm afraid. Would you be so kind as to hand

over the stunner so I don't have to burn a hole through you and my office wall'?"

Even with his quick reflexes, Pias knew there was no way he could stun Shen before the

admiral could blast him. With great reluctance he let the stunner drop from his hand.

Shen smiled and called for several more pirates to take Pias away and to clear the

unconscious bodies out of the office.

As Pias was escorted out, there was a sinking feeling in his stomach. He'd been sure

Shen would offer him a post in the organization. True, the pirate leader had dropped a

vital clue that the strike against the Empire would be coming within a week-but unless

Pias lived to let SOTE know about it, that clue would do no one any good at all.

Chapter 14

Escape from Gastonia

The attack on the door interrupted the d'Alemberts' interrogation of Lady A, and they had

to think quickly of a way out. There were no other doors in the room, just a pair of

windows overlooking the landscape, offering them a three-story drop to the ground. A

ten-meter fall, however, was still preferable to a gun battle against unknown

odds-especially since they now possessed information vital to the defense of the Empire.

They had to get out with it alive.

They glanced at the windows and the same idea occurred to both of them. But Vonnie

still hesitated. "What about her?" she asked, nodding in Lady A's direction.

"We'll have to leave her, I'm afraid," Jules decided. As much as he would have liked to

take their high-ranking captive with them, it would have been difficult under the best of

circumstances; and now, with the two of them under attack and Lady A still deep under

the influence of the nitrobarb, it was flatly impossible.

Then the door to the room burst inward, and there was no time for further conversation.

As a squad of guards poured into the room, the d'Alemberts made their leap for

freedom. There were two simultaneous crashes as the DesPlainians smashed through

the twin windows with their arms over their heads to prevent facial injuries. Then they

were out in the open air, falling free three floors to the snowy ground below them.

The fall seemed quite slow to their reflexes, trained as they were under high-grav

conditions. Jules in particular was an acrobat par excellence, and could twist his body

around for the best landing position. Yvonne had not been raised in the Circus, but she'd

known by her late teens that she would be marrying Jules and entering the Service at his

side; as the daughter of a baron, she'd had plenty of leisure time to learn the necessary

tricks of staying alive. Her movements as she fell now were not as graceful as her

husband's, nor as effortlessly performed-but they were just as practical, and achieved

the same ends.

The D'Alemberts hit a level patch of snow without any protruding obstacles. They turned

the forward momentum component of their leap to their advantage, rolling over in a

somersault that left them, finally, springing to their feet and facing away from the house.

They were bruised from the hard landing of their fall, but no bones were broken and no

muscles sprained. As the guards appeared in the windows from which they had just

leaped, the two SOTE agents began running at top speed.

There was only one destination in both their minds: the small landing field behind the

house where both the copter and the spaceship were sitting. There'd been no need to

discuss that in advance; it was the only transportation around. Trying to leave on foot or

by sleigh would be suicide.

Blaster bolts were sizzling the air around them, melting deep pockets in the snow near

their feet. They ran a random, zigzag pattern to avoid being shot, but some of the beams

were hitting very close anyway. As soon as the guards realized where the two fugitives

were heading, however, most of them stopped firing and started racing down the stairs

to head them off.

The small landing field came into view as the d'Alemberts rounded a corner of the

building. The copter was at the near edge of the pad, with the spaceship more than thirty

meters away at the far side. Nevertheless, Jules gasped, "Ship," to his wife, and Yvonne

nodded. Taking the copter would be easy, but they would still be stuck on this planet with

no way of getting the information to SOTE Headquarters on Earth. They would have to

find some way of breaking into the garrison and convincing the officials there that they

really were SOTE agents-and since many of those same officials were in Lady A's pay,

that route was not a safe one, either.

As the DesPlainians sprinted across the open field, some of the guards appeared behind

them, blasters drawn and ready to fire. Jules, checking over his shoulder for just such

pursuit, saw them appear and took a second to stop, turn, draw his own blaster, and fire

at the guards. The small knot of pursuers scattered in search of cover while Jules raced

on. The DesPlainians took turns firing back to keep their enemies honest as they ran

desperately toward the spaceship that was their only hope of escape.

They reached the side of the ship and Jules stood guard at the base while Vonnie

climbed the ladder into the vessel. It was a small ship, built to hold no more than a dozen

people; the d'Alemberts were hoping it was empty at present, and fueled for a quick

takeoff. It would do them little good to get inside and find the-ship cold and completely

shut down; starting it up again could take several hours.

Vonnie had reached the top of the ladder and paused there to draw her own blaster once

more. Now it was Jules's turn to climb, an exposed target on the side of the ship, hoping

that his wife could keep their attackers busy enough evading her fire that they'd be

unable to get a clear shot at him. He used the strength of his powerful arms to pull

himself up three rungs at a time, but on the last few pulls his hands were sweating so

much, despite the cold, that his grasp almost slipped. At long last-less than ten seconds

from when he started-he reached the airlock level beside his wife, and the two of them

ducked inside and slid the door shut behind them.

They had gained a respite, but it would be a very short-lived one unless they acted

quickly. They raced through the ship with guns drawn, on the chance that there might be

crewmembers still aboard, but they found themselves alone here. While Vonnie continued

the search through the small vessel, Jules went straight to the control room to check the

ship's takeoff status.

He was happy to see that the instruments were in the standard format, and that there

were controls for weapons as well as for flight. Lady A had a rather sleek little craft

here, and he approved wholeheartedly. His eyes quickly scanned the rows of dials,

noting their reactions as he flipped some of the toggles. By the time Vonnie returned

from her search with the happy news that they were alone in the ship, Jules had

completed his systems analysis. "All smooth and roaring to soar," he said happily.

Vonnie slid onto the acceleration couch next to his. Turning on the external field monitors,

she said, "We've got company, though. They're not happy about our being here."

Jules glanced over at her screen. The ground around the ship was swarming with

guards, trying to figure out some way of getting inside. "Can you use the ship's guns on

them?" he asked.

Yvonne checked her gunnery board. "No, they're inside minimum range."

"Then I'll have to get fancy. Hold onto your boots." The ship was not yet ready for

takeoff, as it still lacked a course plotting and systems coordination-but, to scare the

people around the base, Jules made a quick motion to turn on the engines for a fraction

of a second. The roar from the base of the vessel was enough to send Boros's guards

fleeing in all directions. The ship shuddered, but stayed where it was as Jules quickly

turned the motor off again after he'd made his point. Anything more than an instant of

unguided reaction could send the ship toppling over on its side.

Boros's army was scattered around the ship now at a respectful distance, but not

abandoning the fight entirely. As Jules continued to run quickly through the preflight

systems checkout, Vonnie watched the scene outside with a dubious eye. "I really think

we should give them something to keep them busy," she mused. "Do we need that house

any longer?" Jules smiled. "I really don't think so."

With great glee, his wife set about lining the building up in her sights. "Stationary targets

aren't much fun," she muttered, "but they're better than nothing."

The ship's guns roared, and the upper floors of the house exploded in a burst of flame.

Vonnie aimed again, and more of the structure was demolished. "Think that finishes Lady

A and Tanya Boros?" she asked.

Jules didn't look up from his instruments. "It's a nice thought," he said, "but somehow I

doubt it. They probably hid in a bomb shelter the instant we got in here. That's what I'd

have done in their place."

The display of force from the ship finally caused the guards to scatter altogether and

move back toward the house to put out the fires now burning there. With the external

pressures removed, Jules was able to finish up his necessary operations in less than ten

minutes. "Strap yourself in," he warned needlessly, for Yvonne had done so long ago.

"We are about to take our leave of beautiful Gastonia."

The rockets roared beneath them as their ship lifted skyward with effortless efficiency.

Minutes later they had cleared Gastonia's atmosphere and were speeding at top velocity

away from the prison planet. Vonnie kept her eyes resolutely on the scanner screens,

looking for any sign of pursuit from the garrison, but nothing came after them. Perhaps

Tanya Boros and the Governor could not mobilize their forces in time; or perhaps-more

likely, in Vonnie's opinion-they didn't want to find themselves in the midst of a running gun

battle with this particular craft. Yvonne could tell from studying her instrument board that

Lady A's ship was as well-armed and deadly as the d'Alemberts' own Comete Cuivre.

The instant they were far enough away from Gastonia's gravitational influence, Jules

slipped their little vessel into subspace. He did not make a long jump, just enough to get

them away from the Gastonia system so that their position couldn't be traced. As soon

as he was positive they were safe from detection, he dropped back into the normal

universe and began warming up the subcom set. He and Yvonne had a long report to

send back to Earth -a report that SOTE Headquarters would want as quickly as

possible.

The Service, meanwhile, was having plenty of problems just coping with the routine

security arrangements for the Coronation that was now just four days away. They had

thought that the security arrangements for Edna's wedding the previous year had been

difficult-but those were child's play compared to the logistical monstrosity that confused

them now.

Only once before in the more than two-hundred-year history of the Empire had a

monarch abdicated in favor of a successor. Most of the Stanleys came to sudden. violent

ends, and the ascension of their heirs was a much more spontaneous affair. Although it

was a tradition to publicly broadcast the Coronation from Earth to every planet in the

Galaxy, few people were privileged to be on hand to attend such an event in person.

Edna's coronation as Empress Stanley Eleven, though, had been private knowledge in

high government circles for years, and had been announced publicly months ago. People

knew in advance that it would be happening-and they knew, too, that they might never

see another coronation within their lifetimes. Stanley Ten had reigned for well over forty

years; a majority of people within the Empire had never even lived under another ruler.

The excitement caused by the upcoming change in power had electrified the populace

throughout the Galaxy.

As tradition decreed, the ceremony would be held at Bloodstar Hall in the Angeles-Diego

metropolitan complex. Despite SOTE's best precautions, Edna's wedding there had been

a near-disaster, with only Jules and Yvonne averting tragedy at the last possible

moment. The Head was determined that this ceremony was not going to be the fiasco

the last one had been, and as a consequence was spending most of his time away from