"Dunno. Read the announcements, will you."

And so Ezr ended up in Benny's parlor, along with a mob and a half of other people. Ezr wedged down at the table with Jau and Rita. Pham was there, too, looking decidedly hungover.

Jau Xin had his own tale of woe: "Reynolt was supposed to retune my pilots. Not a big deal, but our drills went like c.r.a.p without it."

"What are you complaining about? Your gear is still functioning, right? But we were trying to do an a.n.a.lysis of this Spider s.p.a.ceflight stuff-and now our ziphead allocation is offline. Hey, I know bits of chemistry and engineering, but there's no way I can put it all to-"

Pham groaned loudly. He was holding his head with both hands. "Quit your b.i.t.c.hing. This all makes me wonder about Emergent 'superiority.' One person gets knocked out and your house of cards comes apart. Where's the superiority in that?"

Normally Rita Liao was a gentle sort, but the look she gave Pham was venomous. "You Qeng Ho murdered our superiority, remember? When we came here we had ten times the clinical staff we have now, enough to make our systems as good as anything back home."

There was an embarra.s.sed silence. Pham glared back at Rita, but didn't argue further. After a moment he gave the abrupt shrug that everyone recognized: Trinli was bested, but unwilling to retreat or apologize.

A voice from the next table broke the silence. "Hey, Trud!"

Silipan was standing halfway through the parlor doorway, looking up at them. He was still wearing the Emergent dress uniform of the day before, but now the silken rags had new stains, and they were not artistic tints.

The silence dissolved, people shouting questions, inviting Trud to come up and talk to them. Trud climbed up through the vines toward Jau Xin's table. There was no room left, so they flipped another table over to make a double-decker. Now Ezr was almost eye to eye with Silipan, even though the other's face was inverted from his. The crowd from other tables swarmed in close, anchoring themselves among the vines.

"So when are you going to break that deadlock, Trud? I've got zipheads reserved, waiting for answers."

"Yeah, why are you over here when-"

"-There's only so much we can do with raw hardware, and-"

"Lord of Trade Almighty, give the fellow a chance!" Pham's voice boomed, loud and irritated. It was a typical Trinli turnabout, always the truculent cannon, but pointing in whatever direction might make him look good. It also, Ezr noticed, silenced the crowd.

Silipan sent Pham a grateful look. The technician's c.o.c.kiness was a fragile thing today. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his hand shook slightly as he raised the drink Benny had set before him.

"How is she, Trud?" Jau asked the question in sympathetic, quiet tones. "We heard. . .we heard, she's brain-dead."

"No, no." Trud shook his head and smiled weakly. "Reynolt should make a full recovery, minus maybe a year of retrograde amnesia. Things will be a bit chaotic till we get her back online. I'm sorry about the deadlock. Why, I'd have it fixed by now"-some of the old confidence crept back into his voice-"but I was rea.s.signed to something more important."

"What really happened to her?"

Benny showed up with a shrimp-tentacle dinner, his best entree. Silipan dug in hungrily, seeming to ignore the question. This was the most attentive audience Trud had ever had, literally breathless to hear his opinions. Ezr could tell the guy realized this, that he was enjoying his sudden and central importance. At the same time, Trud was almost too tired to see straight. His once perfect uniform actually stank. His fork took a wobbling course from food bucket to mouth. After a few moments, he turned a bleary-eyed look in the direction of his questioner. "What happened? We're not sure. The last year or so, Reynolt's been slipping-still in Focus, of course, but not well tuned. Tas a subtle thing, something that only a pro could notice. I almost missed it myself. She seemed to be caught up on some subproject-you know the way zipheads can obsess. Only thing is, Reynolt does her own calibration, so there was nothing I could do. I tell you, tas making me d.a.m.n uneasy. I was about to report it to the Podmaster when-"

Trud hesitated, seemed to realize that this was a brag with consequences. "Anyway, it looks like she was trying to adjust some of the MRI control circuits. Maybe she knew that her tuning was adrift. I don't know. She had the safety hood off and was running diagnostics. It looks like there was some kind of situational flaw in the control software; we're still trying to reproduce that. Anyway, she got a control pulse right in the face. There was a little piece of her scalp in the cabinet behind the controls, where she spasmed. Fortunately, the stimulated drug production was alpha-retrox. She has a concussion and a retrox overdose.. . .Like I say, it's all repairable. Another forty days and our old lovable Reynolt will be back." He laughed weakly.

"Minus some recent memories."

"Of course. Zipheads aren't hardware; I don't have backups."

There was some uncomfortable mumbling around the table, but it was Rita Liao who put the idea into words: "It's all too convenient. It's like someone wanted to shut her down." She hesitated. Earlier in the day, it had been Rita pushing the rumors about Ritser Brughel. It showed how far these Emergents had come that they would stick their noses into what might be a Podmaster conflict. "Has Podmaster Nau checked into the off-Watch status of the Vice-Podmaster?"

"And his agents?" That from a Qeng Ho behind Ezr.

Trud slapped his fork down on the table. His voice came out angry and squeaky. "What do you think! The Podmaster is looking into the possibilities. . .very carefully." He took a deep breath, and seemed to realize that the price of fame was too high. "You can be absolutely sure that the Podmaster is taking this seriously. But look-the retrox flood was simply a ma.s.sive overdose, unlocalized, just what you'd expect in an accident. The amnesia will be a patchy thing. Any saboteur doing that would be a fool. She could be dead and it would've looked just as much like an accident."

For a moment, everyone was silent. Pham glared back and forth at all of them.

Silipan picked up his fork, set it down again. He stared into his half-finished bucket of shrimp tentacles. "Lord, I am so tired. I go back on duty in twenty-d.a.m.n it, fifteen-Ksecs."

Rita reached out to pat his arm. "Well, I'm glad you came over and gave us the straight story." There was a murmur of agreement from the people all around.

"Bil and I will be running the show for some time now. It all depends on us." Trud looked from face to face, seeking comfort. His voice boasted and quailed at the same time.

They met later that day, in the buffer s.p.a.ce beneath the temp's outer skin. This was a meeting agreed on long before the Lake Park open house. It was a meeting Ezr had waited for with impatience and fear-the meeting where he would lay it on the line to Pham Nuwen about Focus. I have mylittle speech, my little threats to make. Will they be enough? I have mylittle speech, my little threats to make. Will they be enough?

Ezr moved quietly past Fong's sproutling trays. The bright lights and the smell of trebyun greens faded behind him. The dark that was left was too deep for unaided eyes. Eight years ago, on his first meeting with Nuwen, there had been faint sunlight. Now the hull plastic showed only darkness.

But nowadays, Ezr had other ways to see.. . .He signaled the localizer that sat on his temple. A ghostly vision rose. The colors were just shades of yellow, such as you might see if you pressed your finger firmly against the side of your eye. But the light wasn't random patterns. Ezr had worked long and hard with Pham's exercises. Now the yellow light revealed the curving walls of the balloon membranes and the outer hull. Sometimes the view was distorted. Sometimes the perspective was from beneath his feet or behind his head. But with the right commands, and lots of concentration, he could see where no unaided person could. Pham can still see better. Pham can still see better. There had been hints, over the years. Nuwen used the localizers like a private empire. There had been hints, over the years. Nuwen used the localizers like a private empire.

Pham Nuwen was up ahead, standing behind a wall brace, invisible but for the fact that there were localizers beyond him, looking back. As Ezr closed the last few meters' distance between them, his vision wavered as the other swung his tiny servants into a different constellation.

"Okay, make it quick." Pham had stepped out to face him. The yellow pseudo-light painted his face haggard and drawn. He hadn't dropped the Trinli persona? No, this looked like the hangover Pham had shown in the parlor, but there was something deeper to it.

"You-You promised me two thousand seconds."

"Yeah, but things have changed. Or haven't you noticed?"

"I've noticed a lot of things. I think it's time we finally really talked about them. Nau, he truly admires you. . .you know that, don't you?"

"Nau is full of lies."

"True. But the stories he showed me, some large part of them is true. Pham, you and I have worked together through several Watches now. I've thought about things my aunt and my grand-uncles used to say about you. I'm past the hero worship. Finally, I realize how much you must. . .love. . .Focus. You've made me many promises, but they've always been so carefully framed. You want to beat Nau and take back what we lost-but more than anything, you want Focus, don't you?

The silence stretched out for five seconds. To the direct question, whathe will he say? To the direct question, whathe will he say? When he finally spoke, his voice was grating: "Focus is the key to making a civilization that lasts-across all of Human s.p.a.ce." When he finally spoke, his voice was grating: "Focus is the key to making a civilization that lasts-across all of Human s.p.a.ce."

"Focus is slavery, Pham." Ezr spoke the words softly. "Of course, you know that; and in your heart I think you hate it. Zamle Eng-you made him your inner cover story; I think that was your heart crying out to you."

Pham was silent for a second, glaring at him. His mouth twisted. "You're a fool, Ezr Vinh. You read Nau's stories and you still don't understand. I was betrayed once before by a Vinh. It won't happen again. Do you think I'll let you live if you cross me?"

Pham glided closer. Ezr's vision was abruptly snuffed out; he was cut off from all localizer input. Ezr raised his hands, palms up. "I don't know. But I am a Vinh, Sura's direct descendant, and also yours. We are a Family of secrets within secrets; someday I would have been told the truth about Brisgo Gap. But even as a child, I heard little things, hints. The Family has not forgotten you. There's even a motto that we never say on the outside: 'We owe all to Pham Nuwen; be thou kind unto him.' So even if you kill me, I have to talk to you." Ezr stared into the silent dark; he didn't even know where the other was standing now. "And after yesterday. . .I think you will listen. I think I have nothing to fear."

"After yesterday yesterday ?" Pham's voice was angry and near. "My little Vinh snake, what can you possibly know about yesterday?" ?" Pham's voice was angry and near. "My little Vinh snake, what can you possibly know about yesterday?"

Ezr stared out in the direction of the voice. There was something about Pham's voice, a hatred that went beyond reason. What did happen withReynolt? What did happen withReynolt? Things were going terribly wrong, but all he had were the words already planned: "You didn't kill her. I believe what Trud said. Killing her would have been easy, and could have looked just as much like an accident. And so I think I know about where Nau's stories are true and where they are lies." Ezr reached out with both arms, and his hands fell on Pham's shoulders. He stared intently into the dark, willing vision. "Pham! All your life you have been driven. That, and your genius, made us what we are. But you wanted more. Quite what, is never clear in the Qeng Ho histories, but I could see it in Nau's records. You had a wonderful dream, Pham. Focus might give it to you. . .but the price is too high." Things were going terribly wrong, but all he had were the words already planned: "You didn't kill her. I believe what Trud said. Killing her would have been easy, and could have looked just as much like an accident. And so I think I know about where Nau's stories are true and where they are lies." Ezr reached out with both arms, and his hands fell on Pham's shoulders. He stared intently into the dark, willing vision. "Pham! All your life you have been driven. That, and your genius, made us what we are. But you wanted more. Quite what, is never clear in the Qeng Ho histories, but I could see it in Nau's records. You had a wonderful dream, Pham. Focus might give it to you. . .but the price is too high."

There was a moment of silence, then a sound, almost like an animal in pain. Abruptly, Ezr's arms were struck aside. Two hands grabbed him at the throat, viselike and squeezing shut. All that was left was shocked surprise, dimming toward final blackout. . . .

And then the hands relaxed their pressure. All around him glowbugs flashed stark white light, dozens of tiny popping sounds. He gasped, dazed, trying to understand. Pham was blowing the capacitors in all the nearby localizers! The pinpoint flashes showed Pham Nuwen in bright and black stop action. There was a glittering madness in his eyes that Ezr had never seen.

The lights were farther away now, the destruction spreading outward from them. Ezr's voice came out a terrified croak: "Pham. Our cover. Without the localizers-"

The last of the tiny flashes showed a twisted smile on the other's face. "Without the localizers, we die! Die, little Vinh. I no longer care."

Ezr heard him turn and push off. What was left was darkness and silence-and death that must be no more than Ksecs away. For no matter how hard Ezr tried, he found no sign of localizer support.

What do you do when your dream dies? Pham floated alone in the dark of his room, and thought about the question with something like curiosity, almost indifference. At the edge of his consciousness, he was aware of the ragged hole he had punched in the localizer net. The net was robust. That disruption was not automatically revealed to the Emergent snoops. But without careful revision, news of the failure would eventually percolate out to them. He was vaguely aware that Ezr Vinh was desperately trying to cover the burnout. Surprisingly, the boy had not made things worse, but he had not a prayer of doing the high-level cover-up. A few hundred seconds, at most, and Kal Omo would alert Brughel. . .and the charade would be over. It really didn't matter anymore.

What do you do when your dream dies?

Dreams die in every life. Everyone gets old. There is promise in the beginning when life seems so bright. The promise fades when the years get short.

But not not Pham's dream. He had pursued it across five hundred light-years and three thousand years of objective time. It was a dream of a single Humankind, where justice would not be occasional flickering light, but a steady glow across all of Human s.p.a.ce. He dreamed of a civilization where continents never burned, and where two-bit kings didn't give children away as hostages. When Sammy had dug him out of the cemeterium at Lowcinder, Pham was dying, but Pham's dream. He had pursued it across five hundred light-years and three thousand years of objective time. It was a dream of a single Humankind, where justice would not be occasional flickering light, but a steady glow across all of Human s.p.a.ce. He dreamed of a civilization where continents never burned, and where two-bit kings didn't give children away as hostages. When Sammy had dug him out of the cemeterium at Lowcinder, Pham was dying, but not not the dream. The dream had been bright as ever in his mind, consuming him. the dream. The dream had been bright as ever in his mind, consuming him.

And here he had found found the edge that could make the dream come true: Focus, an automation deep enough and smart enough to manage an inter-stellar civilization. It could create the "loving slaves" whose possibility Sura had made jest of. So what if it was slavery? There were far greater injustices that Focus would banish forever. the edge that could make the dream come true: Focus, an automation deep enough and smart enough to manage an inter-stellar civilization. It could create the "loving slaves" whose possibility Sura had made jest of. So what if it was slavery? There were far greater injustices that Focus would banish forever.

Maybe.

He had looked away from Egil Manrhi, now scarcely more than a scanning device. He had looked away from Trixia Bonsol and all the others, locked for years in their tiny cells. But yesterday, he'd been forced to look upon Anne Reynolt, standing alone against all the power of Focus, spending her life to resist that power. The particulars had been a great surprise to Pham, but he had been fooling himself to think that such was not part of the price for his dream. Anne was Cindi Ducanh writ large.

And today, Ezr Vinh and his little speech: "The price is too high!" "The price is too high!" Ezr Ezr Vinh Vinh ! !

Pham might have his dream. . .if he gave up the reason for it.

Once before, a Vinh had stepped between him and final success. Letthe Vinh snake die. Let them all die. Let me die. Letthe Vinh snake die. Let them all die. Let me die.

Pham curled inward upon himself. He was suddenly conscious that he was weeping. Except as a deceit, he hadn't cried since. . .he didn't remember. . .perhaps since those days at the other end of his life when he first came aboard the Reprise. Reprise.

So what do you do when your dream dies?

When your dream dies, you give it up.

And then what is left? For a long time, Pham's mind dwelled in a nothingness. And then once more, he became aware of the images flickering around him from the localizer net: down on the rockpile, the Focused slaves crammed by the hundreds in the honeycombs of Hammerfest, Anne Reynolt asleep in a cell as small as any.

They deserved better than what had happened to them. They deserved better than what Tomas Nau had planned for them. Anne deserved better.

He reached out into the net, and gently touched Ezr Vinh, motioned him aside. He gathered the boy's efforts up and began building them out into an effective patch. There were details: the bruises on Vinh's neck, the need for ten thousand new localizers in the temp inters.p.a.ce. He could handle them, and in the longer run- Anne Reynolt would eventually recover from what he had done to her. When that happened, the game of cat-and-mouse would resume, but this time he must protect her and all the other slaves. It would be so much harder than before. But maybe with Ezr Vinh, if they worked as a real team. . .The plans formed and re-formed in Pham's mind. It was a far cry from breaking the wheel of history, but there was a strange, rising pleasure in doing what felt wholly right.

And somewhere before he finally fell asleep, he remembered Gunnar Larson, the old man's gentle mocking, the old man's advice that Pham understand the limits of the natural world, and accept them. So maybe he wasright. So maybe he wasright. Funny. All the years in this room he had lain awake, grinding his teeth, planning his plans and dreaming what he might do with Focus. Now that he had given it up, there were still plans, still terrible dangers. . .but for the first time in many years there was also. . .peace. Funny. All the years in this room he had lain awake, grinding his teeth, planning his plans and dreaming what he might do with Focus. Now that he had given it up, there were still plans, still terrible dangers. . .but for the first time in many years there was also. . .peace.

That night he dreamed of Sura. And there was no pain.

PART THREE.

FORTY-FOUR.

There is always an angle. Gonle Fong had lived her whole life by that principle. The mission to the OnOff star had been a long shot, the sort of thing that appealed mainly to scientists. But Gonle had seen angles. Then had come the Emergent ambush, and the long shot had been turned into servitude and exile. A prison run by thugs. But even then there was an angle. For almost twenty years of her life she had played the angles and prospered-if only by the standards of this dump.

Now things were changing. Jau Xin had been gone for more than four days, at least since the beginning of her current Watch. At first the rumor was that he and Rita had been unofficially moved to Watch tree C, and that they were still in coldsleep. That screwed some of the programming deals she had planned with Rita-and it was also as unusual as h.e.l.l. Then Trinli reported that two pilot zipheads were missing from the Hammerfest Attic. So. Rita might still be on ice, but Jau Xin and his zipheads were. . .elsewhere. The rumors grew from there: Jau was on an expedition to the dead sun, Jau was landing on the Spider world. Trud Silipan strutted around Benny's, smug with some inner secret that for once he was not sharing. More than anything, that proved that something very strange was going on.

Gonle had run a betting pool on the speculations, but she was suffering from sucker fever herself. She wasn't one bit disappointed when the big bosses decided to let them all in on the secret.

Tomas Nau invited a handful of the peons down to his estate for the briefing. This was first time Gonle had been to Lake Park since the open house. Nau had made a big thing of his hospitality then. Afterward, the place had been locked tight-though to be honest, part of that might be because of what happened to Anne Reynolt during the open house.

As Gonle and the three other chosen peons shuffled down the footpath toward Nau's lodge, she pa.s.sed her critical judgment on the scene. "So they figured out how to do rain." It was more a windblown mist, so fine it dewed her hair and eyelashes, so fine that the lack of real gravity didn't matter.

Pham Trinli gave a cynical chuckle. "I'll bet it's partly garbage collection. In my time, I've seen plenty of these faked gravity parks, usually built by some Customer with more money than sense. If you want to have a groundside and a skyside, the clutter starts piling up. Pretty soon you have a sky full of c.r.a.p."

Walking beside him, Trud Silipan said, "Sky looks pretty clean to me."

Trinli looked up into the driven mist. The clouds were low and gray, moving quickly in from the lake's far sh.o.r.e. Some of this was real and some must be wallpaper, but the two were seamlessly meshed. Not a cheerful scene by Gonle Fong's standards, but one that was chill and clean. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I gotta hand it to you, Trud. Your Ali Lin is a genius."

Silipan puffed up a little. "Not just him. It's the coordination that counts. I've got a team of zipheads on this. Every year it just gets better. Someday we'll even figure out how to make natural-looking sea waves."

Gonle looked across at Ezr Vinh and rolled her eyes. Neither of these buffoons liked to acknowledge how much everyone's cooperation-very profitable cooperation-was involved here. Even if the peons weren't welcome anymore, they still supplied a constant stream of food, finished woods, live plants, and program designs.

The mist made little swirls around the lodge, and the illusion of gravity was sorely tested as the visitors tilted this way and that on their grabber-soled shoes. Then they were in the lodge, warmed by very natural-looking burning logs in Tomas Nau's big fireplace. The Podmaster gestured them toward a conference table. There were Nau, Brughel, and Reynolt. Three other figures were silhouetted against the windows and the gray light beyond. One was Qiwi.

"Well h.e.l.lo, Jau," said Ezr. "Welcome. . .back."

Sure enough, it was Jau and Rita. Tomas Nau brightened the room lights. The warmth and brightness were nothing more than in any civilized habitation, but somehow the cold and gloom so expensively maintained outside made this inner light a joyous security.

The Podmaster waved them to seats, then sat down himself. As usual, Nau was a picture of generous and high-minded leadership. But he doesn'tfool me for a moment, But he doesn'tfool me for a moment, thought Gonle. Before this mission, she had had a long career, dealing with a dozen Customer cultures, on three worlds. Customers came in all the sizes and colors of humanity. And their governments were even more varied-tyrannies, democracies, demarchies. There was always a way of doing business with them. Big boss Nau was a villain, but a smart villain who understood that he had to do business. Qiwi had seen to that, years ago. It was too bad he held the physical upper hand- thought Gonle. Before this mission, she had had a long career, dealing with a dozen Customer cultures, on three worlds. Customers came in all the sizes and colors of humanity. And their governments were even more varied-tyrannies, democracies, demarchies. There was always a way of doing business with them. Big boss Nau was a villain, but a smart villain who understood that he had to do business. Qiwi had seen to that, years ago. It was too bad he held the physical upper hand- that thatwas not part of the standard Qeng Ho business environment. Things were dicey when you couldn't run away from the bad guys. But in the long term, even that didn't matter.

The Podmaster nodded to each of them. "Thanks for coming in person. You should know that this meeting is being shown live on the local net, but I hope you'll tell your friends what you've seen firsthand." He grinned. "I'm sure it will make for good conversation at Benny's. What I have is incredibly good news, but it's also a great challenge. You see, Pilot Manager Xin has just returned from low Arachna orbit." He paused. I bet there'stotal, awesome silence in Benny's. I bet there'stotal, awesome silence in Benny's. "And what he discovered there is. . .interesting. Jau-please. Describe the mission." "And what he discovered there is. . .interesting. Jau-please. Describe the mission."

Xin came to his feet a little too quickly. His wife caught his hand and he stood on the floor, facing them. Gonle tried unsuccessfully to catch Rita's eye, but the woman's entire attention was on Jau. I bet they kept her on iceuntil he was back; that was the only thing that would have kept her mouthshut about this. I bet they kept her on iceuntil he was back; that was the only thing that would have kept her mouthshut about this. Rita's expression was one of vast relief. Whatever this news was, it couldn't be bad. Rita's expression was one of vast relief. Whatever this news was, it couldn't be bad.

"Yes, sir. Per your instructions, I was brought on-Watch early, to undertake a close approach of Arachna." As he spoke, Qiwi pa.s.sed around some Qeng Hoquality huds. Gonle mouthed a buy offer at Qiwi as she pa.s.sed; the other grinned and whispered "Soon!" back at her. The big bosses still didn't let peons own these things. Maybe finally that would change, too. A second went by as the huds synched on the consensus image. The s.p.a.ce above the table rippled and became a view of the L1 rockpile. Far away, beyond the floor, there was the disk of the Spider world.

"My pilots and I took the last functioning pinnace." A thread of gold arced out from the rockpile; the tip accelerated to the halfway point and then began to slow. Their pov caught up with the pinnace; ahead, the disk of Arachna grew wide. The world looked almost as frozen and dead as when the humans had first arrived. There was one big difference: a faint glitter of city lights across the northern hemisphere, webbing here and there at major cities.

Pham Trinli's voice came from beyond the dark, an incredulous hoot. "I bet you got spotted!"

"They pinged us. Show the defense radars and native satellites," he said to the display. A cloud of blue and green dots blossomed in the s.p.a.ce around the planet. On the ground, there were arcs of flashing light, the sweep of the Spiders' missile radars. "It's going to be more of a problem in the future."

Anne Reynolt's voice cut across the Pilot Manager's. "My network people deleted all the hard evidence. The risk was well worth it."

"Hunh! That must have been something motherloving important."