"That's true-they won't," Dornberger said, which nipped his hope before it was truly born. The Fuhrer Fuhrer went on, "But that doesn't mean I don't need you closer to home. I'm going to order you here to Flensburg, Hans. You've got no idea what a small cadre I have of men I can really trust." went on, "But that doesn't mean I don't need you closer to home. I'm going to order you here to Flensburg, Hans. You've got no idea what a small cadre I have of men I can really trust."

"Sir..." Drucker's voice trailed away. Dornberger had him by the short hairs, and he knew it. Of course the Reich's Reich's new leader could trust him. Dornberger knew why the new leader could trust him. Dornberger knew why the Gestapo Gestapo had seized Kathe. If Drucker gave him any trouble, the blackshirts could always grab her again. had seized Kathe. If Drucker gave him any trouble, the blackshirts could always grab her again.

"I'll have a car there for you-for all of you-in a couple of days," Dornberger said. He didn't mention the sword he'd hung over Drucker's head. Why would he? Smoother not to, smoother by far. The Fuhrer Fuhrer continued, "You'll be doing important work here-don't kid yourself for a moment about that. And you'll have the rank to go with it, too. Major general sounds about right, at least for starters." continued, "You'll be doing important work here-don't kid yourself for a moment about that. And you'll have the rank to go with it, too. Major general sounds about right, at least for starters."

"Major general?" Now Drucker's voice was a disbelieving squeak. The young lieutenant who'd brought him to the fire station stared at him. He didn't look as if he believed it, either.

But Walter Dornberger repeated, "For starters. We'll see how you shape in the job when you get here. I hope to see you soon-and your whole family." He hung up. The line went dead.

"Sir..." The lieutenant spoke with considerably more respect than he'd given Drucker up till then. "Sir, shall I escort you back to your house?"

"No, never mind." Drucker walked back to his wife's uncle's in something of a daze. He didn't know what he'd thought Dornberger would have to say to him. Whatever it was, it didn't come close to matching the real conversation.

When he went into the house, the children, Kathe, and her uncle Lothar all pounced on him. The children exclaimed in pride and delight when he gave them the news. Lothar slapped him on the back. Kathe congratulated him, too, but he saw the worry in her eyes. She knew the grip Dornberger had on him through her. He shrugged. He couldn't do anything about it but hope things would work out all right. He wished he could think of some-thing else, but what else was there?

The motorcar that came for them was an immense Mercedes limousine. People up and down the street stared as they piled into it. Drucker hoped it wouldn't tempt some ambitious band of holdouts into trying a hijacking. It purred away from Neu Strelitz in almost ghostly silence.

A few hours later, they were in Flensburg, in Schleswig-Holstein hard by the Danish border. "It's like another world," Kathe breathed as the motorcar pulled to a stop in front of the Flensborg-Hus, the hotel where the Reich Reich was putting them up till they found permanent lodgings. And so it was: a world that hadn't seen war. In the was putting them up till they found permanent lodgings. And so it was: a world that hadn't seen war. In the Reich, Reich, that made it almost unique. It was the main reason Walter Dornberger had chosen the town at the west end of the Flensburger Forde, an arm of the Baltic projecting into the neck of land that led up to Denmark. that made it almost unique. It was the main reason Walter Dornberger had chosen the town at the west end of the Flensburger Forde, an arm of the Baltic projecting into the neck of land that led up to Denmark.

Some of the people at the hotel spoke more Danish than German. The monogram of Frederick IV of Denmark stood above the gate: he'd built the Flensborg-Hus as an orphanage in 1725.

A major general's uniform waited in the room to which the bellboy led Drucker. He put it on with a growing feeling of unreality. After he'd adjusted the high-peaked cap to the proper jaunty angle, Heinrich's arm shot out in salute. "You look very handsome," Kathe said loyally. If her heart wasn't in the words, how could he blame her?

The next morning, a lieutenant who might have been brother to the one back in Neu Strelitz took him to the Fuhrer. Fuhrer. Walter Dornberger was working out of another hotel not far from the downtown maritime museum. A servant brought Drucker pickled herring and lager beer. After he'd eaten and drunk, he asked, "What will you have me doing, sir?" Walter Dornberger was working out of another hotel not far from the downtown maritime museum. A servant brought Drucker pickled herring and lager beer. After he'd eaten and drunk, he asked, "What will you have me doing, sir?"

"We've got to rebuild," Dornberger said. "We have to conceal as much as we can from the Lizards. And we have to take full control of the country, put down the outlaw bands or at least bring them under government control. Until we've done all those things, we're hideously vulnerable. I'm going to put you to work at concealment. The more weapons we can keep from turning over to the Lizards, the better."

"What have we got left?" Drucker asked. "Explosive-metal bombs? Poison gas?" Dornberger just smiled and said nothing. Drucker found another question: "What do I do if the Lizards find some of it?"

"Give it up, of course," Walter Dornberger answered. "We can't afford to do anything else-not yet we can't. One of these days, though..."

"If the Lizards are patient, we have to be patient, too," Drucker said.

"Just so." Dornberger beamed at him. "You will do very well here, I think."

By G.o.d, maybe I will, Drucker thought. Drucker thought.

"Well, well." Gorppet looked up from a listing of new appointments by the Deutsch government. "This may be interesting."

"What have you found?" Hozzanet asked.

"Remember that male named Johannes Drucker, with whom I had some dealings because he was a.s.sociated with Anielewicz?" Gorppet waited for his superior to make the affirmative gesture, then went on, "He has turned up in Flensburg with a promotion of two grades."

"That is is interesting," Hozzanet agreed. "What is he doing there, to earn such a sudden, sharp advance?" interesting," Hozzanet agreed. "What is he doing there, to earn such a sudden, sharp advance?"

"His t.i.tle, translated, is 'commandant of recovery services,' " Gorppet replied after checking the monitor. "That is so vague, it could mean anything."

"I always mistrust vague t.i.tles," Hozzanet said. "They usually mean the Big Uglies are trying to hide something."

"We already know the Deutsche are trying to hide as much as they can from us," Gorppet said.

"Really? I never would have noticed," Hozzanet said. The Race didn't have an ironic cough to set beside the emphatic and the interrogative. Had it possessed such a cough, Hozzanet would have used one then.

"Here, however, we are in an unusual position, because this Drucker speaks our language fairly well and has interacted with us in ways that are not hostile," Gorppet persisted. "We have some hope of getting him to see reason and cooperate with us."

"Really?" Hozzanet repeated, still sounding anything but convinced. "Is this Drucker not the male who refused to tell you anything whatsoever about how the male who drove him to, ah, Neu Strelitz ended up dead something less than halfway there?"

"Well, yes," Gorppet said. "But that was an individual matter. This one pertains to the survival of his not-empire. If he sees he will endanger the Reich Reich by refusing to cooperate, I think he will tell us at least some of what we need to know." by refusing to cooperate, I think he will tell us at least some of what we need to know."

"My opinion is that you are far too optimistic, if not utterly addled," Hozzanet said. "But I can see you do not intend to listen to me. Go ahead, then: call this Drucker. I will warn you of one thing, though-accept none of his denials without proof. Distrust them even with thorough proof."

"You may believe otherwise if you like, superior sir, but I really must a.s.sure you that I did not hatch from my eggsh.e.l.l yesterday," Gorppet said stiffly. "I do know that Big Uglies will lie whenever it suits their interest to do so-and sometimes, I think, just for the sport of it. And..." His voice trailed off. He didn't go on with whatever he'd been on the point of saying. Whatever it was, in fact, he forgot all about it. He started to laugh instead.

"And what is so funny?" Hozzanet asked. "Give me something to make me laugh, too, if you would be so kind. I could use a good laugh, by the Emperor." He cast down his eye turrets.

So did Gorppet, who then answered, "It shall be done, superior sir. It just occurred to me: I believe I have the proper tool for persuading this particular Tosevite to listen to me and to do my bidding, or some of it."

"Tell me," Hozzanet urged. "Such a claim is usually all the better for proof. I do not think this likely to prove an exception to the rule."

"I agree, superior sir," Gorppet said. "Consider, though. When we first met Drucker, in whose company was he? In whose friendly friendly company was he? Why, that of Mordechai Anielewicz." He p.r.o.nounced the Tosevite name with care. "And who is Mordechai Anielewicz? A leader of the members of the Jewish superst.i.tion in the subregion called Poland. The ideology of Drucker's superiors requires permanent hatred for members of the Jewish superst.i.tion. If those superiors were to learn from us that he had violated their fundamental rule..." company was he? Why, that of Mordechai Anielewicz." He p.r.o.nounced the Tosevite name with care. "And who is Mordechai Anielewicz? A leader of the members of the Jewish superst.i.tion in the subregion called Poland. The ideology of Drucker's superiors requires permanent hatred for members of the Jewish superst.i.tion. If those superiors were to learn from us that he had violated their fundamental rule..."

He waited for Hozzanet's judgment. If he'd missed something obvious, the other male would take sardonic pleasure in letting him know about it. But Hozzanet bent into the posture of respect, a very sizable compliment when from superior to inferior. "That is good. That is quite good," he said, and added an emphatic cough. "By all means, make your telephone call. We may realize considerable profit from it. Blackmail is liable to prove more effective than friendship. This is Tosev 3, after all."

"I thank you, superior sir," Gorppet said. He had no trouble telephoning Flensburg. The Race often needed to do so, to tell Deutsch officials what to do. Even though he spoke none of the local Big Uglies' language, he was quickly connected to Johannes Drucker: plenty of Deutsche, especially those involved with communication, could use the language of the Race. The line was voice-only, but he didn't mind that; he was not good at interpreting Tosevite facial expressions.

"I greet you, superior sir," Drucker said once the connection went through. "How may I help you?"

He doubtless meant, How may I hinder you? How may I hinder you? Big Uglies were not immune to polite hypocrisy. Gorppet said, "I congratulate you on your promotion. And I believe I should also congratulate you on recovering your mate and hatchlings. Is that not a truth?" Big Uglies were not immune to polite hypocrisy. Gorppet said, "I congratulate you on your promotion. And I believe I should also congratulate you on recovering your mate and hatchlings. Is that not a truth?"

"Yes, that is a truth," the Tosevite replied. "No harm in admitting it now."

"I hope they are all well?" Gorppet said.

"Yes," Drucker said again. "I thank you for asking."

"I suppose you want them to stay well?" Gorppet said. "You must, after searching so long and hard to find them."

This time, Drucker paused before answering. Gorppet had not thought him a fool. When he did speak again, what he said was, "I do not care for the way this conversation is going. What is your point?"

"My point is that I hope I will not have to tell anyone about your recent friendship with Mordechai Anielewicz," Gorppet replied. "I believe that would be unfortunate for all concerned. Do you not agree?"

Silence stretched a good deal longer now. At last, Drucker said, "In the language of the Race, I cannot call you all the vile names I am thinking in my own language. I wish I could. What do you want from me in exchange for your silence?"

He caught on quickly, all right. Gorppet said, "Is it not a truth that your government seeks to conceal weapons that should have been surrendered to the Race?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," the Big Ugly said.

"No? That will probably mean I shall have to make some other telephone calls," Gorppet said.

Drucker spoke in his own language. Gorppet didn't understand a word, but it sounded impa.s.sioned. Then Drucker returned to the language of the Race: "You will want me to betray my own not-empire. That is very hard for me to do."

"The choice is yours," Gorppet said.

Another long silence. "You will hear from me from time to time," Drucker said, breaking it. "You will not hear from me very often, or I would give myself away."

"I understand," Gorppet said. "I think we may have a bargain. Do not forget your obligation, or the bargain will come undone. I warn you now. I do not intend to warn you again."

"I understand," Drucker said, and broke the connection with what struck Gorppet as altogether unnecessary violence.

But that was neither here nor there. Turning to Hozzanet, Gorppet said, "I believe he is recruited. The true test, of course, will be in what he reveals. If he fails us..." He shrugged. "If he fails us, he will pay the price."

"He will deserve it, too," Hozzanet said.

Before Gorppet could reply, his telephone hissed. It was another voice-only connection with a Tosevite on the other end. "I greet you," the Big Ugly said. "Mordechai Anielewicz speaking here."

"And I greet you," Gorppet said in some surprise. "I was just talking about you, as a matter of fact. How may I help you?"

"You need to know something has gone missing," the Jewish leader answered.

"Do I?" Gorppet thought for a moment. "In that case, I probably also need to know what what has gone missing-is that not a truth?" has gone missing-is that not a truth?"

"Yes," Anielewicz said. "That is a truth." He used an emphatic cough.

When the Big Ugly didn't say anything more, Gorppet realized he would have to prompt him. He did: "Will you tell me what has gone missing, or did you put this telephone call through to tantalize me?"

Mordechai Anielewicz sighed, a sound much like that a male of the Race might have made. "I will tell you. You will have heard, I suppose, that the Jews of Poland possess an explosive-metal bomb captured from the Deutsche years ago, at the end of the first round of fighting."

"I have heard this, yes," Gorppet replied. "I do not know whether it is a truth or not, but I have heard it." His tailstump lashed in sudden alarm. "Wait. Are you telling me-?"

"I am telling you that we do indeed possess this bomb," Anielewicz said. "Or rather, I am telling you that we did possess it. At the moment, we do not. By we we here, I mean the organized group of Jewish fighters who have held it for all these years." here, I mean the organized group of Jewish fighters who have held it for all these years."

Gorppet's head started to ache. "Do you mean to say than an explosive-metal bomb has been stolen?" That got Hozzanet's complete, and horrified, attention. "If you do not have it, who does?" That seemed a good question with which to start.

"There is no sign of violence in the place where it was kept," the Tosevite replied. "This leads me to believe some of my fellow Jews have taken it, and not Poles or Russians or Deutsche."

"I see," Gorppet said. "And what would Jewish hijackers be likely to do with an explosive-metal bomb?" He answered that for himself: "They would be likely to bring it here, into the Reich, Reich, and try to use it against the Deutsche, against whom they have strong motivation for seeking vengeance." and try to use it against the Deutsche, against whom they have strong motivation for seeking vengeance."

"That is also my belief," Mordechai Anielewicz said. "If the Deutsche still have any explosive-metal weapons of their own hidden away, they might be provoked into using them against you-and against us in Poland-if such a bomb destroyed one of their cities without warning."

"So they might," Gorppet said unhappily.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience," the Big Ugly said. "I do not know for a fact that the bomb can still burst. But I do not know for a fact that it cannot, either. We have tried to maintain it over the years. It is large and heavy. In my measure, it weighs about ten tonnes." He translated that into the Race's units.

Gorppet thought he must have made a mistake. "Are you sure?" he asked. "That seems an impossibly large weight."

But Anielewicz answered, "Yes, I am sure. Tosevite technology with these weapons was primitive in those days. We have improved since. That is our way, you will recall."

"Yes. I do recall," Gorppet said tonelessly. A hopeful thought occurred to him: "You Tosevites have many different languages. Would Jews in the Reich Reich give themselves away by how they speak?" give themselves away by how they speak?"

"No," Anielewicz said. "I am sorry, but no. Yiddish, our tongue, is close to the Deutsch language as is, and many Jews are fluent in that language itself."

"Splendid." Gorppet turned an eye turret toward Hozzanet. "By the spirits of Emperors past, superior sir, what do we do now?"

"They let someone wander off with an explosive-metal bomb?" Atvar spoke in tones of extravagant disbelief. Extravagant disbelief was exactly what he felt. Even for Big Uglies, that struck him as excessive. "They do not know who? They do not know when? They do not know where? They do not know how?"

"It must have happened during the fighting in Poland, Exalted Fleetlord," Pshing replied. "Things were chaotic then, you must admit."

"Whose side are you on?" Atvar snarled. "I would not mind so much if another Deutsch city vanished from the map, but I fear the Deutsch Big Uglies could still retaliate against us. No matter what they claim, I find it unlikely that they have surrendered all of their explosive-metal weapons."

"Another round of fighting would leave the Deutsche extinct," his adjutant remarked.

"I wish they were extinct now," Atvar said. "But they have been damaged enough not to be dangerous at the moment, and the one set of reasonably reliable Tosevite allies we have had, the Jews of Poland, have turned on us."

"They did not mean to do so," Pshing said.

"I do not care what they meant to do." The fleetlord was in a perfect fury of temper. "They are letting their own private, trivial feuds influence the policy of the Race. That is intolerable-intolerable, do you hear me, Pshing?"

"Yes, Exalted Fleetlord," Pshing answered. "But what will you do? What can we do?"

That was a different sort of question. It painfully reminded the fleetlord that the intolerable was all too often commonplace on Tosev 3, and that the Race's policies here had to pay far more notice to the Big Uglies' whims and superst.i.tions than anyone would have imagined possible before the conquest fleet set out from Home. "We have to try to get the bomb back," Atvar answered. "That much is obvious, but if we fail there, we also have to convince the Deutsche that we did not detonate it."

"That will be difficult," his adjutant said. "It also may not help much. The Deutsche dislike the Jews as much as the Jews dislike them."

"Both those points, unfortunately, are truths," Atvar said. "And the not-emperor of the Deutsche is sure to blame us for anything the Jews do." The Big Ugly named Dornberger would have reason to do so, too, but the fleetlord chose not to dwell on that.

"Will you warn the Deutsche this bomb may be on their territory?" Pshing asked. "I gather from the reports that the weapon is anything but inconspicuous."

"Until we have more definite information, I believe I will keep quiet," the fleetlord answered. "One more truth is that I would not be altogether dismayed to see the Deutsche punished further, so long as they fail to avenge themselves on us. It is not as if they fail to deserve it."

"The variable being whether we can escape their vengeance in the aftermath," Pshing said.

"Yes. The variable," Atvar agreed. That was a nice, bloodless way to ponder whether thousands or tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of members of the Race might become radioactive dust on account of the reckless actions of a handful of headstrong Big Uglies. He sighed. No male since the unification of the Empire had had worries even remotely like his.

He skimmed the report again. The occupiers were doing what they could in secret to help the Jews find their missing bomb. How much was that? How secret was it? The report didn't say. The fleetlord took that as a bad sign.

And then the telephone hissed. "If that is Fleetlord Reffet, tell him I just jumped out the window," Atvar said to Pshing. "Tell him I have joined the Muslim superst.i.tion and am at prayer so I cannot be disturbed. Tell him anything. I do not wish to talk to him now."

"It shall be done, Exalted Fleetlord," Pshing said, and went off to do it. Atvar was one of the few members of the Race prominent enough to have another individual to block nuisances from him. Most males and females had to make do with electronics. He let out a self-satisfied hiss, enjoying the privilege.

But it turned out not to be the fleetlord of the colonization fleet. Pshing's image appeared on Atvar's monitor. "Exalted Fleetlord, it is Senior Science Officer Tsalas," Atvar's adjutant said. "He maintains that the matter about which he would speak to you is of some urgency. Shall I put him through?"