"It's over now, Lan. Unless we use the bombs we've lost."

He nodded. "Then we've lost."

"If I don't succeed, then I'm dead and you have to kill him."

Lan said simply, "Okay."

"Free Denice if you can. She was Councilor Ripper's a.s.sistant; we're going to need somebody to surrender, and she has contacts."

Lan simply nodded. Callia sat looking at him, leaned forward slightly and kissed him on the cheek, whispered, "I love you."

Lan looked into her eyes. "I'll kill him for you."

- 26 -.

That night, Denice had a dream.

In her dream she wore a cloak of pale shadows that covered her from head to toe. She journeyed north, toward the source of a great river, through a stark wilderness, cold and windblown. The banks of the river were frozen solid, hard beneath her feet. Her breath steamed in the air around her, and her cheeks, the only exposed portion of her person, grew cold and icy.

She walked for days that became years, trudged endlessly through the gathering cold. Darkness fell around her with a glacial slowness, left her moving along the banks of the great river in an eerie twilight as the first dim twinkle of stars came out in the skies above her, stars no human of Earth had ever seen.

With the pa.s.sage of time the darkness deepened, and the stars above her came out in full, a blaze of light so bright that at moments, the pale gray shadow cloak she wore became visible.

In the depth of the night she came at last to a place where the river vanished into the side of a mountain.

At the mouth of the river stood a great city of silver and gold, its walls gleaming in the starlight.

Surrounded by a vast ten-sided wall, the city had two gates, one at the west and one at the east, and the gates were open.

She pa.s.sed in through the near gate.

Above the gate was the wordAscension.

Inside she found the city perfect and empty and sterile. Nothing grew and nothing lived. At the city's center loomed a vast ten-sided building, walls black as the s.p.a.ce between the stars. She did not hesitate, but walked through the walls and pa.s.sed through, into darkness. She found herself in a greater darkness, standing on the familiar featureless black plain, stretching away to infinity. Dazzling lights glowed at the edges of existence, but came no closer as she walked toward them. She walked for a long time, not knowing what to expect, and came upon a giant figure, twenty meters high, sitting upon a throne carved from a single great emerald. In a niche upon the right arm of the throne was a golden Flame, and in the niche upon the left arm of the throne was a jagged hole in reality, a blacknothingness that wavered and clawed at its surroundings. The figure wore shadows from head to toe, with a hooded cloak that obscured its countenance. It drew back the hood at her approach, and revealed pale features, smooth and blank as the face of a statue, and where its eyes were there was likewise blackness, cold and inhuman.

She knew it was someone she had met before, in another aspect and another place; but in this place, in this moment, the memory would not come.

She removed the hood of shadows from her own head, stood at the foot of the throne.

They spoke in the manner of her childhood, words without sound.

What is this place?

The dark eyes held her.Nowhere.

Who are you?

incomprehensiblepainrage; I am the G.o.d of Players.

She shook herself slightly; theword was already fading from her awareness.Why am I here?

The G.o.d said, Ibrought you.

Why?

It is time to choose.

Killing is wrong.

Then you are- Iam a dream of life.

Dancer, take the Flame.

She reached for it, and the golden Flame leapt down from the emerald throne, touched and enveloped her, sheathed her in the glowing armor of the living Flame.

The Nameless One said,I am pleased. It is time that the Dance live again.

Denice Castanaveras awoke with a fierce joy that Med her until she thought she would burst, danced like electricity across her skin; so uplifted her she did not think she could stand to wait for tonight, when Lan would come and free her.

- 27 -.

Mister Obodi received her up in the penthouse, in the wood-floored room where he meditated and, Callia had heard, exercised-though no one she had spoken to had ever seen the latter.

She was, Callia thought, the only person except Denice to have been invited into Obodi's penthouse.

She was not deeply surprised; she knew she and Denice looked much alike. If Obodi found Denice attractive, he probably found her attractive.

His bodyguards were the best Credit could buy. Half a dozen j.a.panese cyborgs; the two at the door were, respectively, ex-s.p.a.ce Force and ex-PKF; after that they had worked for Security Services, and after that, briefly, for David Zanini.

They searched her, scanned her, and sent her inside.

Obodi sat her down in the center of the huge wood floor, knelt facing her, and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I have heard, Mister Obodi, that you have hydrogen bombs. That you're going to use them."

"And if it is true?"

"I am going to try to dissuade you."

The tan, ascetic features took on a faintly amused cast. "Where did you hear this wild rumor?"

"Your juice junkie, David I think his name is. David Zanini. He said he was there when you negotiated it with the j.a.panese."

Obodi nodded. "And where am I supposed to have hidden these hydrogen bombs? There are Claw in every part of my operation, Callia. The armories we have taken are run by Reb and Claw alike; the weapons we have acquired are familiar to Reb and Claw alike. There is no part of this rebellion that is not full of Claw." She nodded reluctantly, and he continued. "But I suppose it is not impossible. To prove that I have not secreted these weapons somewhere is beyond me; I doubt I can prove that Ihave not done anything to your satisfaction. I would ask you,why in the name of the Prophet Harry you would take the word of a juice junkie on such an important matter; I would rea.s.sure you that the lives of the innocent matter to me. I amnot indifferent to them. We all knew that there would be deaths going into this rebellion; but, like you, Callia, I am concerned that the deaths should be kept to the minimum necessary.

I do not see that the loss of millions or tens of millions of innocent lives serves our purpose.

Independence at that cost is an obscenity." Obodi paused, smiled as though amused, and said, "Anevil thing."

Callia Sierran stared at the man. She had been following along in the gentle flow of his voice, slightly lost in the reasonable cadence of his sentences; she was almost prepared to believe him- He sat there, smiling at her.

It was a mocking, cynical smile, vastly amused and contemptuous. Callia sat motionless for a long moment, simply astonished that anyone could pack so much meaning into a simple movement of the lips.

They faced one another, she in half lotus, he kneeling. She unwrapped herself, prepared to stand, and saw Obodi, without particularly shifting position, move his right leg slightly.

The kick took her high on the shoulder she had broken in the a.s.sault on the PKF barracks in L.A. She felt the collarbone snap again, let the kick move her backward, away from Obodi, reached into her mouth and pulled her hideaway free as she rolled.

It was tucked next to her gum; a single-shot flechette gun, made of plastic with a single plastic-ceramic projectile that fragmented when fired; the gun had the same slowscan signature as her gums, the projectile the same signature as a tooth; it was about the size of her pinkie.

He came after her as she rolled. A single sharp pain occurred in the elbow of her right arm; the arm went completely numb, and Obodi plucked the hideaway out of her hand. She came out of her roll on her back, ready to fire, hand pointed at him, with nothing in the hand.

He took a step back, looking at the flechette gun. "What an interesting toy. I see how this works." He looked back down at Callia, pointed the gun at her legs, and pressed the stud that fired it.

Callia screamed at the impact, very briefly.

At the scream, the door behind her curled open, and Obodi's bodyguards sprinted in, stopped when they saw the situation-they hesitated, looking at Obodi.

Obodi gestured at the unconscious form; her legs were mangled, and she was already in shock. "Take her away. Have one of the doctors look at her; if she survives, put her in the cell next to the little j.a.panese man."

Lan Sierran waited until 11:00 on Sat.u.r.day morning. When he did not hear from his sister, he went back into the Temple to pray.

He prayed for her soul until noon and then went looking for the Reverend. The Reverend was asleep; not surprising, she'd had the night shift, with Lan, and had been up most of the night processing recruits. It made Lan realize that he should be tired himself; but he did not feel tired. It seemed to him that he had never been more aware of the world.

Lan woke the woman in her bed. "I need forty of the faithful who are not afraid to die."

The Latham Building.

Ralf examined the conversation he had monitored inside the Temple of Eris. He recognized both of the people, Callia Sierran and her sibling Lan Sierran; Lan's presence at the Temple of Eris was the primary reason Ralf had gone to the effort of cracking the Temple's security.

Free Denice if you can. She was Councilor Ripper's a.s.sistant; we're going to need somebody to surrender for us, and she has contacts.

Ralf had strongly suspected that Denice was in the Latham Building; much of the rebel activity seemed to center around it. But with Ring providing data security for the rebels, with web angels circling the building at every possible point in the Crystal Wind that might allow an attack, Ralf had not been, and would not be able to approach the building.

Not through the Crystal Wind.

The man who had introduced himself to Denice as Doctor Derek-one of the last human surgeons in the world-arrived at the Latham Building just after 5:00 em. His patient was waiting for him up in Obodi's makeshift surgery room, tucked into a slowtime bubble. He put her up on the operating gurney and popped the bubble, then looked down at his work with plain disgust. Though he did not dare say so to Obodi, he thought he belonged out in combat, where his skills might do some good for the cause, helping heal rebels whose bodies had been insulted with gunfire, in terrain and under conditions where a surgical robot would not have been appropriate.Well, he thought grimly,I get to deal with gunfire, anyway.

There were two fine surgical robots in the mobile hospital across the plaza; apparently Obodi did not want news of this incident leaving headquarters.

The slowscan showed a broken left collarbone; the primary wound looked as though it had come from a flechette gun. Doctor Derek considered amputating the legs, decided, reluctantly, to patch them up. He had no time for a major amputation, and no resources to clone her a new pair of legs afterward.

The woman-Callia Sierran, he thought, though he had not actually been introduced to her-had apparently gotten on Obodi's bad side, never a difficult thing to do. She'd gone into shock by the time they'd put her in the slowtime field; Doctor Derek did not want to risk a general anesthetic. He blocked her entirely at the lower spine, gave her another injection for her shoulder, and went to work. He worked steadily; removing dozens of bits of some ceramic plastic from the mangled thighs and knees and shins.

The knees were the worst; the rest would heal up acceptably well, but both patellas were shattered, tendons around both knees severed; she needed a new pair of knees at the very least.

Unfortunately he did not have them for her.

It took him quite a while. Fragments of plastic ceramic were everywhere, and he moved slowly, carefully, making sure he didn't leave any of them inside her. When he had cleared away the worst of the dead tissue, he reattached the loose tendons, injected both legs with a regrowth nanovirus, and disinfected and sprayed the area, from thigh to calves, with protective pseudoskin. Another five minutes took care of the shoulder; it was trivial enough by comparison with the rest. He reset the bone and sprayed a sh.e.l.l over, it to keep the shoulder stiff. The same nanovirus that was designed to regrow the muscle should serve for the bone.

Two of Obodi's bodyguards stood at the door, watching him work. One of the bodyguards was j.a.panese, one of the lot Doctor Derek suspected of having been cyborged; the other, a shorter, ma.s.sively muscled black man, had come with the juice junkie, David Zanini. Both wore masers strapped to their thighs.

Finally Doctor Derek stripped his gloves off. "Where is she going?"

"She'll be downstairs," said the black man. "A bas.e.m.e.nt cell."

Doctor Derek nodded, patted one of the medbots arrayed against the wall on its round metal head.

"Command: patient."

The medbot considered the command. Four humans in the room; one, lying on a gurney, was obviously the patient. The medbot clattered over on six legs and stood next to the gurney the patient lay on. " 'Bot, take her where these two direct, stay with her."

The 'bot said, "Yes, Doctor." It unlocked the gurney's wheels, grasped the handles, and pushed the gurney carrying its patient out of the makeshift surgery room, following the black man down the corridor; the j.a.panese man followed it. They went down to the freight lift, in the utility corridor-the standard lifts were too small to admit the gurney-waited only a few seconds for it to arrive.

The 'bot pushed the gurney into the freight elevator, gently so that the patient would not be jarred too badly. It stepped carefully; once several years ago the "bot had caught one of its six small feet in the gap between the lift and the hallway; it remembered the incident quite well. The humans had amputated the stuck leg to get the 'bot out, and had taken their time about putting a new one on. Forweeks the 'bot had been unable to be of service to patients; very frustrating.

Gurney in first, then the humans following it; the 'bot watched as the humans turned to face the lift door.

One of the humans, the j.a.panese one, said,"Command, bas.e.m.e.nt."

An interesting thing happened. The medbot's patient sat up on the gurney. The 'bot grasped the gurney handles as firmly as it was able, and locked its legs in position so that the gurney would not rock beneath the patient. The patient leaned forward and did two things at the same time; with her right hand lifted the black man's maser free of its holster, and with her left pulled the black man backward with her. She jammed the maser into the small of the man's back and pulled the trigger as they fell backward together.

Bad bad bad, the medbot's thoughts chattered frantically, its patient had just scalded her hand by firing a maser in such an enclosed place, might possibly have separated her left collarbone again, she shouldn't be using that arm atall for at least two days. The j.a.panese man moved with unnatural speed for a human, the medbot saw next, twisted and bounced as far away from the patient as the freight elevator would let him get, pulling his maser free in midbounce, firing as he moved. Fortunately his shot hit the large black man his patient was hiding behind. The medbot's patient got the maser free of the black man's bulk, got the maser on the j.a.panese man and held the trigger down until the smell of cooking meat permeated the lift.

"Command," said Callia Sierran, "stop the lift. Donot sound an emergency."

The lift said, "Yes, mademoiselle."

Callia lay back with the black man's corpse atop her for a good bit before she found the energy to push him off. Her vision wavered in and out of focus and she had difficulty thinking coherently. Finally she said, "Command, ninth floor."

The medbot stood motionless, looking back and forth between the two motionless humans and its patient. This was fascinating; no patient had ever done so many different interesting things in its presence before. The lift stopped at the ninth floor and the patient said, "Get me out of here, 'bot," as the lift doors curled open on the ninth floor utility corridor.

She had not prefaced the sentence with"Command"; but injured patients often did not remember to, the "bot knew. It pa.r.s.ed the sentence three times for redundancy, got the same interpretation every time, and then checked with the lift computer; the lift agreed to keep its doors open until the bot had gotten its patient out. The medbot examined the problem. The black man had slumped forward over the lift entrance; he was blocking the gurney. The medbot let go of the gurney handles and stepped forward, carefully avoiding the dangerous gap between the lift and the hall, and then reached back in, grasping the black man by his shirt. Heavy. It took the bot several seconds to pull him free of the lift.

Its patient was talking to the lift when it returned for her. "This is an emergency, lift. Do you understand?

Urgent, extremely deeplyurgent. I have a lot of things to load onto you, and I need you to stayright here until I come back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mademoiselle. This lift will wait for your return."

"Not goanywhere."

"Not go anywhere," the lift agreed.

" 'Bot, let'sgo. To the left."

"One moment, mademoiselle." The medbot was certain about the black man; it blipped a sonar pulse now toward the other. Similarly, there was no pulse. They were Dead, Deceased, Expired; Corpses, Cadavers.

Unfortunate, but clearly neither was a potential patient any longer.