A Deepness in the Sky Part 42

"Qiwi! Please, sit and be welcome!" He flipped over the table to float beside her.

Qiwi Lisolet smiled hesitantly back at Benny. By now she was five or six years older than him, but suddenly she seemed very young, uncertain. Qiwi was holding something close at her shoulder; it was one of the North Paw kittens, the first that Benny had ever seen outside of the Lake Park. Qiwi looked around the parlor, as if surprised to see the crowds. "So almost everyone is here."

"Yes we are! We're so glad you could come. You can give us the inside view of what's going on." A goodwill amba.s.sador from the Podmaster. And Qiwi looked the part. No pressure-coveralls for Qiwi today. She wore a lacey dress that floated in soft swirls as she moved. Even at the Lake Park open house she hadn't looked so beautiful.

Qiwi sat hesitantly at the table. Benny sat down for a moment too, a courtesy. He handed her a control wand. "This is what Gonle gave me; sorry we don't have better." He pointed out the display and link options. "And this gives you voice access to all the parlor. Please use it. More than anyone here, you know what's going on."

After a moment, Qiwi took the wand. Her other hand held tight to the kitten. The creature wriggled its wings into a more comfortable position, but didn't otherwise complain. For years Qiwi had been the most popular of the Podmaster's inner circle. She wasn't really an amba.s.sador; she was more like a princess. That was how Benny had once described her to Gonle Fong. Gonle had smirked cynically at the word, and then agreed with him. Qiwi was trusted by all, a gentle restraint on tyranny.. . .And yet there were times when she seemed to be lost. Today was one of those times. Benny sat back in his seat. Let the others do some hustling for a bit. Somehow he knew that Qiwi needed his time more.

She looked up after a moment, a little of the old smile on her face. "Yes, I can run the show. Tomas showed me how." She loosened her grip on the kitten and patted his hand. "Don't worry, Benny. This rescue is a tricky thing, but we'll bring it off."

She played with the wand, and the display core of the parlor flared into announcement colors, the light splashing back onto the flowered vines. When she spoke, her voice came from a thousand microspeakers, phased so that she seemed at everyone's side. "h.e.l.lo, everybody. Welcome to the show." Her voice was happy and confident, the Qiwi they all knew.

The display core was sorting itself into multiple views: Qiwi's face, Arachna as seen from the Invisible Hand, Invisible Hand, Podmaster Nau working at his lodge at North Paw, schematics of the Podmaster Nau working at his lodge at North Paw, schematics of the Hand' Hand' s...o...b..t and the military configuration of the various Spider nations. s...o...b..t and the military configuration of the various Spider nations.

"As you know, our old friend Victory Smith has just arrived in Southland. In a few moments she'll be at their parliament, and we'll have a treat none of us have experienced before-a direct human-camera view from the ground. Finally, after all these years, we'll be seeing firsthand." On the big center display, Qiwi's face opened into a smile. "Think of it as a taste of things to come, the beginning of our life with the people of Arachna.

"But before we get to that point, you know we have a war to prevent, and our presence finally to reveal." She looked down at the displays, and her voiced hesitated, as if she were suddenly struck by the enormity of what they were attempting. "We have planned to announce ourselves in just over forty Ksec, when our low-orbit network manipulations are in place, and the Hand' Hand' s...o...b..t takes it over the capitals of both Kindred and Accord. I think you know how tricky it will be. The Spiders, our hoped-for friends, are poised on more dangerous ground than most human civilizations can survive. But I know you have prepared for this day well. When the time for announcement and contact comes, I know we will succeed. s...o...b..t takes it over the capitals of both Kindred and Accord. I think you know how tricky it will be. The Spiders, our hoped-for friends, are poised on more dangerous ground than most human civilizations can survive. But I know you have prepared for this day well. When the time for announcement and contact comes, I know we will succeed.

"So, watch for now. Soon we will be very busy."

FIFTY-TWO.

Oddly enough, Rachner Thract retained his rank of colonel, not that former colleagues would trust him to sc.r.a.pe out their latrines. General Smith had treated him gently. They couldn't prove prove he was a traitor, and apparently she was unwilling to use extreme interrogation on him. So Colonel Rachner Thract, formerly of the unnamed service, found himself with a salary and per diem worthy of full duty. . .and nothing whatsoever to do. he was a traitor, and apparently she was unwilling to use extreme interrogation on him. So Colonel Rachner Thract, formerly of the unnamed service, found himself with a salary and per diem worthy of full duty. . .and nothing whatsoever to do.

It had been four days since that terrible meeting at Lands Command, but Thract had seen his disgrace building for almost a year. When it finally overcame him. . .it had been such a relief, except for the unhappy detail that he survived it, a living ghost.

Old-time officers, especially Tiefers, would decapitate themselves after such ignominy. Rachner Thract was one-half Tiefer, but he hadn't cut off his head with a weighted blade. Instead, he'd numbed his brain with five straight days of fizz, chewing his way round and round the Calorica Strip. An idiot right to the end. An idiot right to the end. Calorica was the only place in the world where it was too warm to lapse into fizz coma. Calorica was the only place in the world where it was too warm to lapse into fizz coma.

So he'd heard the reports that someone-Smith, it had to be Smith-was flying to Southmost, was trying to recover something of what Thract had lost. As the hours counted down toward Smith's arrival at Southmost, Rachner had eased off on the fizz. He sat staring at the news feeds in the public houses. Sat and prayed that somehow Victory Smith could succeed where Thract's life effort had failed. But he knew that she would fail. No one believed him, and even Rachner Thract didn't know the how and why. But he was sure: There was something backing up the Kindred. Even the Kindred didn't know about it, but it was there, twisting every one of the Accord's technical advantages back on itself.

On the multiple screens, live from Southmost, Smith pa.s.sed through the Great Doors of Parliament Hall. Even here, the rowdiest public house on the Strip, the clientele was suddenly very silent. Thract settled his head upon the bar, and felt his stare become glazed.

And then his telephone began ringing. Rachner hauled it out of his jacket. He held it by his head, stared at it with uninterested disbelief. Itmust be broken. Itmust be broken. Or someone was sending him an advertis.e.m.e.nt. Nothing important could ever come over this unsecured piece of junk. Or someone was sending him an advertis.e.m.e.nt. Nothing important could ever come over this unsecured piece of junk.

He was about to throw it to the floor when the cobber on the next perch whacked him across the back. "d.a.m.n military b.u.m! Get out!" she shouted.

Thract came off his perch, not sure if he was about to follow the other's demand, or defend the honor of Smith and all the others who tried to keep the peace.

In the end, house management decided the issue; Thract found himself out on the street, cut off from the television that might have shown him what his General was attempting. And his telephone was still ringing. He stabbedACCEPT and snarled something incoherent into the microphone. and snarled something incoherent into the microphone.

"Colonel Thract, is that you?" The words were jerky and garbled, but the voice was vaguely familiar. "Colonel? Is your end a secure comm?"

Thract swore loudly. "The bleeding h.e.l.l no no !" !"

"Oh thank goodness!" came the almost-familiar voice. "There's a chance then. Surely even they they can't meddle with all the world's idle talk." can't meddle with all the world's idle talk."

They.The emphasis cut through Thract's fizz hangover. He brought the microphone close his maw, and his next words came out almost casually curious. "Who is this?"

"Sorry. Obret Nethering here. Please Please don't hang up. You probably don't remember me. Fifteen years ago, I taught a short course on remote sensing. At Princeton. You sat in." don't hang up. You probably don't remember me. Fifteen years ago, I taught a short course on remote sensing. At Princeton. You sat in."

"I, ah, remember." In fact, it had been a rather good course.

"You do? Oh good, good! So you'll know I'm not a crank. Sir, I know how busy you must be right now, but I pray you'll give me just a minute of your time. Please."

Thract was suddenly aware of the street and the buildings around him. Calorica Strip stretched around the bottom of the volcanic bowl, perhaps the warmest place left on the surface of the world. But the Strip was just a faded memory of the time when Calorica had been a playground for the super-rich. The bars and hotels were dying. Even the snowfalls were long ended. The snow piled up in the alley behind him was two years old, littered with fizz barf and streaked with urine. My high-tech command center. My high-tech command center.

Thract hunkered down, out of the wind. "I suppose I can give you a moment."

"Oh, thank you! You're my last hope. All my calls to Professor Underhill come up blocked. Not surprising, now that I understand . . ." Thract could almost hear the cobber collecting his wits, trying not to blather. "I'm an astronomer out on Paradise Island, Colonel. Last night I saw"-a s.p.a.ceship as big as a city, its drives lighting the sky. . .and ignored by Air Defense and all the networks. Nethering's descriptions were short and blunt, and took just under a minute. The astronomer continued. "I'm no crank, I tell you. This is what we saw! Surely there are hundreds of eyewitnesses, but somehow it's invisible to Air Defense. Colonel, you've got to believe me." His tone segued into uncomfortable self-realization, an understanding that no one in his right mind could buy such a story.

"Oh, I believe you," Rachner said softly. It was a floridly paranoid vision. . .and it explained everything.

"What did you say, Colonel? Sorry, I can't send you much hard evidence. They cut our landline about half an hour ago; I'm using a hobbyist's packet radio to reach rout-" Several syllables were jumbled into incoherence. "So that's really all I had to tell you. Maybe this is some Deepest Secret plot on the part of Air Defense. If you can't say anything, I'll understand. But I had to try to get through. That ship was so large, and-"

For a moment, Thract thought the other had paused, overcome. But the silence continued for several seconds, and then a synthetic voice blatted from the telephone's tiny speaker: "Message 305. Network error. Please retry your call later."

Rachner slowly tucked the telephone back in his jacket. His maw and eating hands were numb, and it wasn't just the cold air. Once upon a time, his network intelligence cobbers had done a study on automated snooping. Given enough computing power, it was in principle possible to monitor every every in-the-clear communication for keywords, and trigger security responses. In principle. In fact, development of the necessary computers always lagged behind the size of the contemporary public networks. But now it looked like someone had just that power. in-the-clear communication for keywords, and trigger security responses. In principle. In fact, development of the necessary computers always lagged behind the size of the contemporary public networks. But now it looked like someone had just that power.

A Deep Secret plot on the part of Air Defense? Not likely. Over the last year, Rachner Thract had watched the mysteries and the failures encroach from all directions. Even if Accord Intelligence and Pedure and all the intelligence agencies of the world had cooperated, cooperated, they could not have produced the seamless lies that Thract had sensed. No. Whatever they faced was larger than the world, a grander evil than anything Spiderly. they could not have produced the seamless lies that Thract had sensed. No. Whatever they faced was larger than the world, a grander evil than anything Spiderly.

And now at last he had something concrete. His mind should climb into combat alertness; instead he was filled with panicked confusion. d.a.m.nthe fizz. d.a.m.nthe fizz. If they were up against an alien force so deep, so crafty-what did it matter that Obret Nethering and now Rachner Thract knew the truth? What could they do? But Nethering had been permitted to talk for more than a minute. He'd spoken a number of keywords before the connection was chopped. The aliens might be better than Spiders-but they weren't G.o.ds. If they were up against an alien force so deep, so crafty-what did it matter that Obret Nethering and now Rachner Thract knew the truth? What could they do? But Nethering had been permitted to talk for more than a minute. He'd spoken a number of keywords before the connection was chopped. The aliens might be better than Spiders-but they weren't G.o.ds.

The thought brought Thract to a halt. So they weren't G.o.ds. The word of their monster ship must be percolating across the civilized world, slowed and suppressed to one-on-one contacts between little people without access to power. But that couldn't hide the secret more than a few hours. But that couldn't hide the secret more than a few hours. And that meant. . .whatever the purpose of this vast fraud, it must be headed for consummation in the next few hours. Right now the chief was risking her life down at Southmost, trying to bail them out from a disaster that was actually a trap. And that meant. . .whatever the purpose of this vast fraud, it must be headed for consummation in the next few hours. Right now the chief was risking her life down at Southmost, trying to bail them out from a disaster that was actually a trap. If I could get through to her, to Belga, to anybody at thetop.. . . If I could get through to her, to Belga, to anybody at thetop.. . .

But telephones and network mail would be worse than useless. He needed some direct contact. Thract ran a weaving course down the deserted sidewalk. There was a bus stop somewhere beyond the corner. How long until the next one came through? He still had his private helicopter, a rich cobber's toy. . .that might be too network-smart. The aliens might simply take it over and crash him. He pushed the fear away. Just now, the chopper was his only hope. From the heliport he could reach any place within two hundred miles. Who would be in that range? He skidded around the corner. Grand Boulevard extended off beneath an endless row of trichrome lights, down from the Strip and through the Calorica forest. The forest was long dead, of course. Not even its leaves were left to spore, the ground beneath being too warm. The center had been cleared flat for a heliport. From there he could fly to. . .Thract's gaze reached across the bowl. The boulevard lights dwindled to tiny sparkles. Once upon a time, they had ascended the caldera walls, to the mansions of the Waning Years. But the truly rich had abandoned their palaces. Only a few were still occupied, inaccessible from below.

But Sherkaner Underhill was up there, back from Princeton.At least that had been the word in the last situation report he had seen, the day his career had ended. He knew the stories about Underhill, that the poor cobber had lost it mentally. No matter. What Thract needed was a sidewise path into Lands Command, maybe through the chief's daughter, a path that did not pa.s.s through the net.

A minute later the city bus pulled up behind Thract. He hopped aboard, the only pa.s.senger, even though it was midmorning. "You're in luck." The driver grinned. "The next one isn't until three hours after noon."

Twenty miles an hour, thirty. The bus rumbled down the Grand Boulevard toward the Dead Forest Heliport. I can be on his doorstep in tenminutes. I can be on his doorstep in tenminutes. And suddenly Rachner was aware of the fizz barf that crusted his maw and eating hands, of the stains on his uniform. He brushed at his head, but there was nothing he could do about the uniform. A madman come to see a senile old coot. Maybe it was fitting. It also might be the last chance any of them had. And suddenly Rachner was aware of the fizz barf that crusted his maw and eating hands, of the stains on his uniform. He brushed at his head, but there was nothing he could do about the uniform. A madman come to see a senile old coot. Maybe it was fitting. It also might be the last chance any of them had.

A decade earlier, in friendlier times, Hrunkner Unnerby had advised the Southlanders in the design of New Southmost Under. So in a strange way, things became more familiar after they left the Accord Emba.s.sy and entered Southland territory. There were lots of elevators. The Southland had wanted a Parliament Hall that would survive a nuclear strike. He had warned them that future ordnance developments would likely make their goal impossible, but the Southlanders hadn't listened, and had wasted substantial resources that could have gone to Dark Time agriculture.

The main elevator was so large that even the reporters could get aboard, and they did so. The Southland press was a privileged cla.s.s, explicitly protected by Parliament law-even on government property! The General did all right with the mob. Maybe she had learned from watching Sherkaner deal with journalists. Her combateers hulked innocuously in the background. She made a few general remarks, and then politely ignored their questions, letting the Southland police keep the reporters out of her physical way.

A thousand feet underground, their elevator started sideways on an electric polyrail. The elevator's tall windows looked out on brightly lit industrial caves. The Southlanders had done a lot here and on the Coastal Arc, but they didn't have enough underground farms to support it all.

The two Elected Representatives who had greeted her at the airfield had once been powerful in the South. But times had changed: there had been a.s.sa.s.sinations, subornations, all Pedure's usual tricks-and lately a near-magical good luck on the Kindred side. Now these two were, at least publicly, alone in their friendliness for the Accord. Now they were regarded as toadies of a foreign king. The two stood close to the General, one close enough that he could talk with her behind a screen. Hopefully, only the General and Hrunkner Unnerby could hear. Don't count on it, Don't count on it, Unnerby thought to himself. Unnerby thought to himself.

"No disrespect, ma'am, but we had hoped that your king would come in his own person." The politico wore a finely tailored jacket and leggings-and an air of spiritual bedragglement.

The General nodded rea.s.suringly. "I understand, sir. I'm here to make sure the right things can be done, and done safely. Will I be allowed to address Parliament?" In the present situation, Hrunk guessed that there was no "inner circle" to speak to-unless you counted the group that was firmly controlled by Pedure. But a parliamentary vote could make a difference, since the strategic rocket forces were still loyal to it.

"Y-yes. We have set that up. But things have gone too far." He waved his watch hand. "I wouldn't put it past the Other Side to cause an elevator wreck and-"

"They let us get this far. If I can talk to Parliament, I think there will be an accommodation." General Smith smiled at the Southlander, an almost conspiratorial look.

Fifteen minutes later, the elevator had deposited them at the main esplanade. Three sides and the roof simply lifted off. That That was an embellishment he hadn't seen before. Unnerby the engineer couldn't resist: He froze and stared up into the glaring lights and darkness, trying to see the mechanism that had such a large and silent effect. was an embellishment he hadn't seen before. Unnerby the engineer couldn't resist: He froze and stared up into the glaring lights and darkness, trying to see the mechanism that had such a large and silent effect.

Then the crush of police and politicians and reporters swept him off the platform . . .

. . .and they were climbing up the stairs of Parliament Hall.

At the top, Southland security finally separated them from the reporters and Smith's own combateers. They pa.s.sed by five-ton timbered doors. . .into the hall itself. The hall had always been an underground affair, in earlier generations squatting just above the local deepness. Those early rulers had been more like bandits (or freedom fighters, depending on your source of propaganda) whose forces roamed the mountainous land.

Hrunkner had helped design this incarnation of Parliament Hall. It was one of the few projects he'd worked on where a major design goal was awesome appearance. It might not really be bombproof, but it looked d.a.m.ned spectacular: The hall was a shallow bowl, with levels connected by gently curving stairs, each level a wide setback with rows of desks and perches. The rock walls curved in an enormous arch that carried fluorescent tubes-and a half-dozen other lighting technologies. Together those lights had almost the brightness and purity of a mid-Bright day, a light rich enough to show all the colors in the walls. Carpeting as deep and soft as father's-pelt covered the stairs and aisles and proscenium. Paintings were hung on the polished wood that faced each level, paintings done with a thousand dyes by artists who knew how to exploit every illusion. For a poor country, they had spent much on this place. But then, their parliament was their greatest pride, an invention that had ended banditry and dependence, and brought peace. Until now.

The doors swung closed behind them. The sound returned deep echoes from the dome and the far walls. In here, there would be just the Elected, their visitors, and-high above, Hrunker could see cl.u.s.ters of lenses-the news cameras. Across the curves of desks, almost every perch was filled. Unnerby could feel the attention of half a thousand Elected.

Smith and Unnerby and Tim Downing started down the steps that led to the proscenium. The Elected were mostly quiet, watching. There was respect here, and hostility, and hope. Maybe Smith would have her chance to keep the peace.

For this day of triumph, Tomas Nau had set North Paw's weather to be its sunniest, the kind of warm afternoon that could extend all the summer day round. Ali Lin had grumbled, but made the necessary changes. Now Ali was weeding in the garden beneath Nau's study, his irritation forgotten. So what if the park's patterns were upset; fixing the problem would be Ali's next task.

And my task is to manage everything together,Tomas thought. Across the table from him sat Vinh and Trinli, working with the site monitoring he had a.s.signed them. Trinli was essential to the cover story, the only Peddler that Tomas was confident would support the lies. Vinh. . .well, a credible excuse would take him offline for critical moments, but what he did see would corroborate Trinli. That would be tricky, but if there were any surprises. . .well, that was what Kal and his men were here to handle.

Ritser's presence was just a flat image, showing him sitting in the Captain's chair aboard the Hand. Hand. None of his words would be heard by innocent ears. "Yes, Podmaster! We'll have the picture in a moment. We got a functioning spybot into Parliament Hall. Hey, Reynolt, your Melin got something right." None of his words would be heard by innocent ears. "Yes, Podmaster! We'll have the picture in a moment. We got a functioning spybot into Parliament Hall. Hey, Reynolt, your Melin got something right."

Anne was up in the Hammerfest Attic. She was present only as a private image in Tomas's huds, and a voice in his ear. At the moment, her attention was split in at least three directions. She was running some kind of ziphead a.n.a.lysis, watching a Trixia Bonsol translation on the wall above her, and tracking the data stream from the Hand. Hand. The ziphead situation was as complicated as it had ever been. She didn't respond to Ritser's words. The ziphead situation was as complicated as it had ever been. She didn't respond to Ritser's words.

"Anne? When Ritser's spy pics come, pipe them directly to Benny's. Trixia can do overlay translation, but give us some true audio, too." Tomas had already seen some of the spybot transmissions. Let the people at Benny's see living Spiders up close and in motion. That would be a subtle help in the postconquest lies.

Anne didn't look away from her work. "Yes, sir. I see that what you say is heard by Vinh and Trinli."

"Quite so."

"Very well. Just want you to know. . .our internal enemies have stepped up the pace. I'm seeing meddling all through our automation. Watch Trinli. Watch Trinli. I'll bet he's sitting there diddling his localizers." Anne's gaze flicked up for an instant, catching the question in Nau's eyes. She shrugged. "No, I'm still not sure it's him. But I'm very close. Be ready." I'll bet he's sitting there diddling his localizers." Anne's gaze flicked up for an instant, catching the question in Nau's eyes. She shrugged. "No, I'm still not sure it's him. But I'm very close. Be ready."

A second pa.s.sed. Anne's voice came again, but now publicly audible here and in the Peddlers' temp. "Okay. Here we have live video from Parliament Hall at Southmost. This is what a human would actually see and hear."

Nau looked to the left, where his huds showed Qiwi's pov in the temp. The main facets of Benny's display flickered. For an instant it wasn't clear what they were seeing. There was a jumble of reds and greens, actinic blues. They were looking into some kind of a pit. Stone ladders were cut into the walls. Moss or hairy pelts grew from rock. The Spiders crowded like black roaches.

Ritser Brughel glanced up from the pictures of Parliament and shook his head almost in awe. "It's like some Frenkisch prophet's vision of h.e.l.l."

Nau gave a gave a silent nod of acknowledgment. With the ten-second time lag, casual chitchat was to be avoided. But Brughel was right; seeing so many together was even worse than the earlier spybot videos. The zipheads' cozy, humanesque translations gave a very unreal view of the Spiders. I wonder how much we are missing about their minds. I wonder how much we are missing about their minds. He called up a separate image of the scene, this one synthesized by ziphead translators from a Spider news feed. In this picture, the steep pit became a shallow amphitheater, the ugly splashes of color were orderly mosaics worked into the carpet (which no longer looked like scraggly hair). The woodwork was everywhere glistening with polish (not stained and pitted). And the creatures themselves were somehow more sedate, their gestures almost meaningful in human body language. He called up a separate image of the scene, this one synthesized by ziphead translators from a Spider news feed. In this picture, the steep pit became a shallow amphitheater, the ugly splashes of color were orderly mosaics worked into the carpet (which no longer looked like scraggly hair). The woodwork was everywhere glistening with polish (not stained and pitted). And the creatures themselves were somehow more sedate, their gestures almost meaningful in human body language.

In both displays, three figures appeared at the Parliament's entrance. They climbed (walked) down the stone stairs. The air was full of hissing and clicking, the true sound of these creatures.

The threesome disappeared into the bottom of the pit. A moment pa.s.sed and they reappeared, climbing the far side. Ritser chuckled. "The midsized one in front must be the spy chief, that's what Bonsol calls 'Victory Smith.' " One detail of the ziphead story was accurate: The creature's clothing was dead black, but it was more a pile of interlocking patches than a uniform. "The hairy creature behind Smith, that must be the engineer, 'Hrunkner Unnerby.' Such quaint names for monsters."

The three climbed out onto an arching spike of stone. A fourth Spider, already on the precarious structure, clambered to its pointed end.

Nau turned from the Spiders' hall to look at the crowd at Benny's. They were silent, watching in vast shock. Even Benny Wen's helpers were motionless, their gaze captured by the images from the Spider world.

"Introductions by the Parliamentary Speaker," spoke a ziphead voice. "The Parliament will come to order. I have the honor to-" Around the sensible words, Ritser's spy robot sent back the reality, the hissing clatter, the stabbing gestures with forelegs that ended in rapier points. In truth, these creatures did look like the statues the Qeng Ho had seen at Lands Command. But when they moved it was the chilling grace of predators, some gestures slow, some very very fast. Strangest of all, for all their superior vision, it wasn't easy to identify their eyes. Across the fluted ridges of the head, there were patches of smooth gla.s.siness, bulbous here and there, with extensions that might be the cool-down points for its thermal infrared vision. The front of the Spider body was a nightmarish eating machine. The razor mandibles and clawlike helper limbs were in constant motion. But the creature's head was almost immobile on the thorax.

The Speaker left the tip of the stone needle, and General Smith climbed up, negotiating a tricky pa.s.sage around the other. Smith was silent for a moment, once she reached the point. Her forelegs waved in a little spiral, as if encouraging foolish persons to get close to her maw. Hiss and clatter came from the speaker. On the "translated" image, a legend appeared over her representation:SMILING GENTLY AT THE AUDIENCE.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Parliament." The voice was strong and beautiful-Trixia Bonsol's voice. Nau noticed Ezr Vinh's head jerk slightly at the sound of her. The diag traces on Vinh rose with the usual conflicted intensity. He'll be usable, just long enough, He'll be usable, just long enough, thought Nau. thought Nau.

"I come here speaking for my King, and with his full authority. I come here hoping I can offer enough to win your trust."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Parliament." Rank on rank, the Elected looked back upon Victory Smith. All their attention was hers, and Hrunkner felt the power of the General's personality flowing as strongly as ever it had done. "I come here speaking for my King, and with his full authority. I come here hoping I can offer enough to win your trust.

"We are at a point in history where we can destroy all progress that has been made-or we can make good on all the efforts of the past and achieve an unbounded paradise. These two outcomes are the two sides of our one situation. The bright outcome depends on trust for one another."

There were scattered hoots of derision, the Kindred partisans. Unnerby wondered if all of those had tickets off Southland. Surely they must realize that any lesser payoff would leave them as dead as the country they were betraying, once the bombs started falling.

The General had told him that Pedure was down here herself. Iwonder. . . Iwonder. . . Unnerby looked in all directions as the General spoke, his gaze most intensely upon the shadows and sergeants-at-arms. Unnerby looked in all directions as the General spoke, his gaze most intensely upon the shadows and sergeants-at-arms. There. There. Pedure was sitting on the proscenium, not a hundred feet from Smith. After all these years, she was more confident than ever. Pedure was sitting on the proscenium, not a hundred feet from Smith. After all these years, she was more confident than ever. Wait a little longer, dear HonoredPedure. Maybe my General can surprise you. Wait a little longer, dear HonoredPedure. Maybe my General can surprise you.

"I have a proposal. It is simple but it has substance-and it can be put into place very quickly." She motioned for Tim Downing to pa.s.s the data cards to the Speaker's clerk. "I think you know my position in the force structure of the Accord. Even the most suspicious of you will grant that, while I am here, the Accord must show the restraint it has publicly promised. I am authorized to offer a continuance of this state. You of the Southland Parliament may pick any three persons of the Accord-including myself, including the King himself-for indefinite residence at our emba.s.sy here at Southmost." It was the most primitive peacekeeping strategy, though more generous than ever in the past, since she was offering the choice of hostages to the other side. And more than ever in history, it was practical. The Accord Emba.s.sy at Southmost was plenty big enough to house a small city, and with modern communications it would not even cripple the important activities of the hostage. If the Parliament was not totally corrupted, this might stick a bar between the legs of onrushing disaster.

The Elected were silent, even Pedure's buddies. Shocked? Facing up to the only real options they had? Listening for instructions from their boss? Something Something was going on. In the shadows behind Smith, Hrunkner could see Pedure talking intensely to an aide. was going on. In the shadows behind Smith, Hrunkner could see Pedure talking intensely to an aide.

When Victory Smith's speech ended, Benny's parlor rang with applause. There had been stark shock when the speech began, when everyone saw how living Spiders really looked. But the words of the speech had fit the personality of Victory Smith, and that was something most people were familiar with. The rest would take a lot of getting used to, but . . .

Rita Liao caught Benny's sleeve as he sailed by with drinks for the ceiling. "You shouldn't have Qiwi up front all by herself, Benny. She can squeeze in here, and still talk to everyone."

"Um, okay." It was the Podmaster who had suggested the front-row solitude, but surely it couldn't matter when things were going so well. Benny delivered the drinks, listening to the happy speculations with half his attention.

"-between that speech and our meddling, they should be safe as temps at Triland-"

"Hey, we could be on the ground on the ground in less than four Msecs! After all these years-" in less than four Msecs! After all these years-"

"s.p.a.ce or ground, who cares? We'll have the resources to dump the birth bans-"