From the bellicose rantings in the newspapers, that struck her as a better idea every day. The Germans seemed as intent on attacking Poland as they had when she was a girl. She thought they were insane, but she'd seen a lot of German insanity over the past generation. More wouldn't surprise her.

The only trouble was, if the Germans got into a war with the Lizards, the Lizards wouldn't care that Ma.r.s.eille was properly a part of France. To them, it would be just another city in the Greater German Reich Reich-in other words, a target.

That cheerful thought made her more blunt with her brother than she might have been otherwise. Over breakfast one morning, she came right out and said, "I want an ident.i.ty card with a false name on it."

Pierre Dutourd looked up from his croissant and cafe au lait. cafe au lait. "And why do you want this?" he inquired, his tone one of mild curiosity. "And why do you want this?" he inquired, his tone one of mild curiosity.

"Because it's safer if I have one," Monique answered. She knew he'd be suspicious, not just curious, no matter how he sounded. He hadn't stayed in business all these years by virtue of a trusting disposition. She went on, "It's safer for me, and it's safer for you, too. In case I ever get picked up, the Boches Boches won't have such an easy time learning who I am, and they won't squeeze me so hard." won't have such an easy time learning who I am, and they won't squeeze me so hard."

Lucie took a drag on her cigarette, then stubbed it out. "Why do you think we can get you anything like that?" she asked.

Especially coming in the s.e.xy-little-girl voice of Pierre's girlfriend, the question infuriated Monique. "Why? Because I'm not an idiot, that's why," she snapped. "How many false cards do the two of you have?"

"It could be that I have one or two," Pierre said mildly. "It could even be that Lucie has one or two. I do not say that it is, mind you, but it could be."

Acid still in her voice, Monique asked, "Well, could it be that I might have one? You would think I were asking for a diamond necklace."

"It would be less risky for me to get you a diamond necklace," her brother replied. "Let me think, and let me see what I can do." No matter how much she squawked, he would say no more than that.

She didn't know she'd won her point till she got summoned to a dingy photographic studio a couple of days later. Flashbulbs made her see glowing purple spots. "Those should do the job," the photographer told her. He didn't say what kind of job they were supposed to do, but she figured that out for herself.

A few days later, Pierre handed her a card that told the world, or at least the German and French officials therein, that she was Madeleine Didier. The photograph was one the fellow at the little hole-in-the-wall studio had taken. As for the rest of the doc.u.ment... She compared it to her old ID card, which she knew was genuine. "I can't see any difference."

Pierre looked smug. "There isn't any difference, not unless you chance to have a high-powered microscope. My friend the printer does these with great success."

"He'd better," Monique exclaimed. "No quicker way to commit suicide than an identification card that doesn't pa.s.s muster."

"I had not finished." Her brother looked annoyed at the interruption; he liked to hear himself talk. "He has a Lizard machine that makes an image of whatever doc.u.ment he requires and stores it so he can alter it as he pleases on one of their computing devices. This, he a.s.sures me, is far easier and more convenient than working from photographs ever was."

"So the Lizards have brought us a golden age of forgery?" Monique said, amused. "And how long will it be before he finds it easier to print money in his shop than to earn it by honest work there?"

"For all I know, Francois may be doing just that," Pierre Dutourd replied. "You will understand, I do not ask him a great many questions about such things, just as he does not ask me a great many questions about my occupation."

"Yes, I can see that this might be so." Monique studied the new card. It really did seem perfect: not just the printing but also the rubber stamps and official signatures were exactly as they should have been. "Himmler himself would not suspect anything was wrong with it."

"Of course not." Pierre rolled his eyes. "He's dead, and good riddance, too." He paused, then after a moment shook his head. "No, it could be that I am wrong. We may be sorry he is gone, for these fools all trying to steal his seat may set the Reich Reich on fire to show how manly they are." He made a sour face. "Some of my best customers are very worried about that." on fire to show how manly they are." He made a sour face. "Some of my best customers are very worried about that."

"Some of the Lizards, you mean?" Monique asked.

"But of course," Pierre Dutourd replied. "And they do not care-they hardly even know, except as far as the language goes-we here are French, not Germans. As far as they are concerned, one part of the Reich Reich is the same as another. To them, it is all is the same as another. To them, it is all ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Fuhrer ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Fuhrer." He looked disgusted now. "Merde alors!" "Merde alors!"

Monique almost laughed out loud. From everything she'd seen, her brother was far more mercenary than patriotic. She'd never heard him say much about the Reich Reich till living under n.a.z.i rule seemed likely to land him in trouble-he certainly hadn't cared a great deal when she got slapped around at the till living under n.a.z.i rule seemed likely to land him in trouble-he certainly hadn't cared a great deal when she got slapped around at the Palais de Justice. Palais de Justice. But hearing that he and the Race worried about war ahead did make her sit up and take notice. "Can we do anything?" But hearing that he and the Race worried about war ahead did make her sit up and take notice. "Can we do anything?"

"Run for the hills," he suggested. "It could be I would not bring you back to the city, as I did before. It could be that I would also run. The best defense against an explosive-metal bomb is not to be there when it goes off. This is, I believe, an American saying. It is also, I believe, a true saying."

"Yes, I believe it could be," Monique said. She sat thoughtfully at the breakfast table. If she couldn't get a pa.s.sport-if, even with a pa.s.sport, she couldn't get out of Ma.r.s.eille-running into the hills didn't seem the worst idea in the world. "Will your friends among the Race know the war is on the point of breaking out before it does?"

"If anyone among the Race knows, they will know," Pierre answered. "But whether anyone will know, that I cannot say. All the Germans have to do is launch their rockets, and voila- voila-war!"

"No, it's not that simple," Monique said. "They have to move soldiers into position, and tanks, and airplanes. These things must be noticeable."

"Less than you'd think," her brother told her. "From what my friends say, the Boches Boches move forces all the time, so it becomes difficult to be sure which movements are intended to confuse and which are intended to deploy. And the Germans are better at keeping things secret than they used to be, too." move forces all the time, so it becomes difficult to be sure which movements are intended to confuse and which are intended to deploy. And the Germans are better at keeping things secret than they used to be, too."

That, unfortunately, seemed altogether too probable to Monique. Thanks to Dieter Kuhn, she knew the n.a.z.is were getting better at unscrambling the Lizards' security devices. It seemed logical they should also be getting better with their own.

The conversation helped make up her mind for her. Leaving the Porte d'Aix made her nervous; she expected every SS man in France to descend on her with c.o.c.ked submachine gun and possibly with unb.u.t.toned fly. Only after she was already on the way to the Prefecture Prefecture on Rue St. Ferreol did she pause to wonder whether Pierre's clever printer could forge pa.s.sports as readily as ID cards. After pedaling on for another half a block, she shook her head. She didn't want Pierre to know she intended fleeing, because she wanted to flee from him, too. That meant she had to get the pa.s.sport on her own, and on Rue St. Ferreol did she pause to wonder whether Pierre's clever printer could forge pa.s.sports as readily as ID cards. After pedaling on for another half a block, she shook her head. She didn't want Pierre to know she intended fleeing, because she wanted to flee from him, too. That meant she had to get the pa.s.sport on her own, and that that meant she had to get a real one; except through her brother, she had no illicit connections. meant she had to get a real one; except through her brother, she had no illicit connections.

And so, the Prefecture. Prefecture. It was larger and more ma.s.sive than the It was larger and more ma.s.sive than the Palais de Justice, Palais de Justice, with a small square on the north side and a park over to the east. She set her bicycle in a rack in front of the building and chained it into place: even here, with gendarmes strolling about keeping an eye on things, thieves might thrive. But at least the policemen were gendarmes and not the Germans who gave the with a small square on the north side and a park over to the east. She set her bicycle in a rack in front of the building and chained it into place: even here, with gendarmes strolling about keeping an eye on things, thieves might thrive. But at least the policemen were gendarmes and not the Germans who gave the Palais de Justice Palais de Justice its sinister reputation: how well deserved that reputation was, she knew better than she'd ever wanted to. its sinister reputation: how well deserved that reputation was, she knew better than she'd ever wanted to.

Inside, languid ceiling fans did a halfhearted job of stirring the air. FILL OUT ALL FORMS BEFORE ENTERING LINE, a prominent sign warned. From everything Monique had heard, French bureaucracy had been bad before the Reich Reich overran the country. From everything she'd seen, it was worse now, having added German thoroughness without the slightest trace of German efficiency. overran the country. From everything she'd seen, it was worse now, having added German thoroughness without the slightest trace of German efficiency.

As she'd expected, the forms for obtaining a pa.s.sport were formidable. So were the fees required-officials wanted to know everything about anyone who might want to leave the Reich, Reich, and also wanted to soak would-be travelers for the privilege. Monique filled out page after page, much of the information being fict.i.tious. If the bureaucrats did any careful checking, she was in trouble. But her a.s.sumption was that no one would have any reason to check on Madeleine Didier, who couldn't very well have fallen foul of the authorities because she'd existed for only a few days. and also wanted to soak would-be travelers for the privilege. Monique filled out page after page, much of the information being fict.i.tious. If the bureaucrats did any careful checking, she was in trouble. But her a.s.sumption was that no one would have any reason to check on Madeleine Didier, who couldn't very well have fallen foul of the authorities because she'd existed for only a few days.

Do you really want to do this? she wondered. she wondered. If you're wrong, and if you get caught, you're back in Dieter Kuhn's hands-and probably back in his arms, too. If you're wrong, and if you get caught, you're back in Dieter Kuhn's hands-and probably back in his arms, too. She didn't have to worry about that in Porte d'Aix, anyhow. But her brother wanted to use her, too, even if in a different way. If she could get away, she'd also be free of Pierre. She nodded briskly. The game was worth the candle. She didn't have to worry about that in Porte d'Aix, anyhow. But her brother wanted to use her, too, even if in a different way. If she could get away, she'd also be free of Pierre. She nodded briskly. The game was worth the candle.

The line moved forward a centimeter at a time. At last, though, she stood before a bored-looking functionary. He gave the forms a desultory glance, then said, "Your fee?" She pushed Reichsmarks across the counter. He riffled through them, nodded, and said, "Your identification card?" Heart thuttering, Monique pa.s.sed that to him, too. He examined it more carefully than the forms, less carefully than the money, and pushed it back to her. "Very good. All appears to be in order. You may return in four weeks' time to pick up your pa.s.sport. It must be done in person, you understand."

"Yes, of course," Monique answered. "Thank you." She turned away, thinking, Either I get the pa.s.sport-or the SS gets me. Either I get the pa.s.sport-or the SS gets me. She'd find out, if she still had the nerve... and if the world hadn't blown up in the meantime. She'd find out, if she still had the nerve... and if the world hadn't blown up in the meantime.

Atvar studied the latest reports from the subregion known as Poland, as well as those from the Race's spy satellites. He turned one eye turret from the monitor on which the reports were displayed to Kirel. "I begin to be optimistic," he told the second-highest-ranking male in the conquest fleet. "If the Deutsche had truly been on the point of launching an attack against us, I believe they would have done so by now. Every day they delay is another day in which they can have second thoughts."

"No doubt the Big Uglies are impetuous, Exalted Fleetlord," Kirel replied. "I agree, delay is likely to be advantageous to us. But they have not backed away from their preparations, either: see how many s.p.a.cecraft they continue to keep in orbit around Tosev 3. If they truly intended relaxing into a peaceful posture, they would not be making such an effort-in my opinion, of course." Even the shiplord of the conquest fleet's bannership had to be careful when disagreeing with the fleetlord.

But Atvar did not have all his claws sunk deeply into his view of things here, as sometimes happened. "Indeed, that is a truth, Shiplord," he admitted. "But I wonder how much damage these crewed craft can do, as opposed to the many orbiting explosive-metal bombs and missiles that require only an electronic command for activation."

"I also wonder," Kirel said, "but I hope we do not have to find out. The Tosevites themselves have a nastier imagination than their mechanisms. Even with inferior means, they might find a way to do us more harm than we would expect."

"They have a knack for doing that, and I would be the last to deny it," Atvar said. "But they also must know what we would do to them. If they did not understand that, I believe they would already have gone to war."

"That is undoubtedly a truth," Kirel said. He swung one of his eye turrets toward the display. "Do we have any certain knowledge of where their submersible craft carrying missiles are presently located?"

"No." That didn't make Atvar happy, either. "And I must say I wish we did. But, on the other fork of the tongue, we rarely do. They and the Americans and the Russkis make a point of keeping the whereabouts of those vessels secret. In their position, I would do the same: we cannot target the submersibles, as we can their land-based missiles."

Pshing came into Atvar's office and waited to be noticed. When Atvar slid an eye turret toward him, he said, "Exalted Fleetlord, we have received replies from four Tosevite not-empires in regard to our request to open shrines dedicated to reverencing the spirits of Emperors past in their territories."

"Four at once?" Kirel said. "They must be acting in concert, then."

Atvar thought the same thing, but Pshing made the negative hand gesture. "No, Shiplord. Three of the replies are negative. The Nipponese say they strongly prefer to reverence their own emperors. The SSSR and the Reich Reich simply refuse the request; the SSSR's rejection implies that we made it for purposes of espionage rather than reverence." simply refuse the request; the SSSR's rejection implies that we made it for purposes of espionage rather than reverence."

That was in some measure true. Atvar said, "And the fourth reply?"

"Exalted Fleetlord, it is from the United States, and gives us permission to do as we will there," Pshing replied. "The American Tosevites cite a doctrine of theirs called 'freedom of reverence' or something of the sort. I confess that I do not fully understand this doctrine."

"I often wonder if even the American Tosevites understand their own doctrines," Atvar replied. "This probably stems from their pa.s.sion for snoutcounting. Most of their peculiar inst.i.tutions do."

"Since they are not bellicose at the moment, I am inclined to forgive them their doctrines," Kirel said as Pshing left the office.

"No doubt some truth will hatch from that eggsh.e.l.l, Shiplord," Atvar said. "And we still await the reply from Britain. But the Americans do cause me some concern for the simple reason that they have prospered rather than falling to pieces in the interval since the fighting stopped. None of our a.n.a.lysts seems to understand why they have prospered, either. By all logic, government through snoutcounting should have failed almost immediately-should never have been attempted, in fact."

Kirel made the affirmative gesture. "I see what you are saying, Exalted Fleetlord. Nippon and Britain have systems similar to ours, though the British also use some of this snoutcounting silliness. And the Reich Reich and the SSSR have rulers with the power of emperors, though they gain that power by murder or intrigue, not by inheritance. But the Americans truly are anomalous." and the SSSR have rulers with the power of emperors, though they gain that power by murder or intrigue, not by inheritance. But the Americans truly are anomalous."

"And they are technically proficient," Atvar said discontentedly. "They are the ones with a s.p.a.cecraft in the asteroid belt. They are the ones sending representatives to meet with the Big Ugly our researcher has raised as if she were a female of the Race."

"I have been keeping track of that, yes," Kirel said. "Truly a worthwhile project on the researcher's part. Do you think some of the wild Big Uglies are beginning to become acculturated? Video of one of the wild ones meeting with our specimen suggests he is one of that sort."

"The wild ones? My judgment is that acculturation is still superficial," Atvar said. "If they do begin to reverence the spirits of Emperors past, that would be a more significant turn toward the Empire's way of life than removing their hair and wearing body paint in place of their cloth wrappings."

"Indeed. I completely agree," Kirel said. "But the American Big Uglies, as you have pointed out, are not fools, even if they are barbarians. They too must realize the likely result of permitting such reverence, and yet they do so. Why?"

"Again, a.n.a.lysis is incomplete. We really do need to study the Americans more," Atvar said, and scribbled a note to that effect for himself. "Their ideology seems to be almost evolutionary in nature: they let individuals compete in snoutcounting contests, and they let ideas compete through 'freedom of reverence' and 'freedom of discussion.' Their a.s.sumption seems to be that the best will prevail as a result of this untrammeled compet.i.tion."

"Now that is interesting, Exalted Fleetlord," Kirel said. "I had not seen their ideology expressed in quite those terms before." His mouth fell open in a laugh. "They certainly are optimists, are they not?"

"I think so. Every male of the Race I know thinks so. By all I can tell, most other Big Uglies think so, too," Atvar said. "And yet the Americans continue to do well. They continue to steal and adapt and build on our technology even more aggressively than the Reich Reich or the SSSR. Puzzling, is it not?" or the SSSR. Puzzling, is it not?"

"Very much so," Kirel answered. "And their relations with us are less shrill and warlike than are those of the other two leading independent not-empires. They might almost be civilized."

"Almost," Atvar said. But then he realized the shiplord had a point. "We do seem to make more allowances for them than for the other not-empires, do we not? I wonder if the American Big Uglies are devious enough to take advantage of that."

"We have not suspected them of attacking the ships of the colonization fleet, at least not seriously suspected them," Kirel said. "Do you believe we should begin a more intensive investigation along those lines?"

After some thought, Atvar made the negative gesture. "We have no evidence that would lead us to suspect their guilt, and their behavior otherwise has been as near exemplary as Big Uglies come."

"We have no evidence to lead us to the Reich Reich or to the SSSR, either, though each has tried to implicate the other," Kirel pointed out. or to the SSSR, either, though each has tried to implicate the other," Kirel pointed out.

Before the fleetlord could respond to that, Pshing hurried into his office once more. Atvar saw his agitation even before he spoke: "Exalted Fleetlord!"

"By the Emperor, what now?" Atvar asked, casting down his eyes in respect for the sovereign so many light-years away.

"Exalted Fleetlord, I have just received a written communication from the amba.s.sador of the Nipponese Empire."

"What now?" Atvar repeated in some irritation. Like Britain, Nippon had retained its independence when the fighting stopped. The Nipponese thought that ent.i.tled them to equality of status with the USA, the SSSR, and the Reich. Reich. The Race didn't, for the simple reason that Nippon, being without explosive-metal weapons, could not do them nearly so much harm as the three more prominent Tosevite powers. The Race didn't, for the simple reason that Nippon, being without explosive-metal weapons, could not do them nearly so much harm as the three more prominent Tosevite powers.

Pshing said, "Exalted Fleetlord, the amba.s.sador reports that Nippon has detonated an explosive-metal weapon of its own manufacture on an isolated island called"-he looked down at the paper he held-"Bikini, that is the name."

Atvar let out a furious hiss and turned to the computer monitor. When he chose a reconnaissance and intelligence channel, he saw the explosion was just being reported. "The Nipponese must have timed the delivery of that note most precisely," he said, and then, dreading the answer, "Is there more?"

"There is, Exalted Fleetlord," Pshing said unhappily. "The note goes on to demand all privileges previously accorded only to Tosevite powers with explosive-metal weapons. It warns that Nippon has submersible craft of its own, and knows how to use them to its own best advantage."

"Even for Big Uglies, the Nipponese are arrogant," Kirel said.

"And now they have some good reason for arrogance." Atvar knew he sounded even more unhappy than his adjutant, but he had cause to sound that way. He turned an eye turret toward Pshing. "Do the Nipponese demand that we evacuate all territory that they occupied when the conquest fleet arrived?"

"Not in this note, no, Exalted Fleetlord," Pshing said. "What they may do in the future, however, is anyone's guess."

"That is a truth." Kirel's voice was mournful, too.

After calling up a map of Tosevite political conditions at the time of the conquest fleet's arrival, Atvar examined it. "There are occasions when I would be tempted to return to the Nipponese the subregion known as China. Considering the difficulties its inhabitants have given us, some other Big Uglies might as well have the dubious privilege of trying to rule them."

"You cannot mean that, Exalted Fleetlord!" Now Kirel sounded horrified.

And Atvar realized his chief subordinate was right. "No," he said with a sigh, "I suppose I cannot. All the Tosevite not-empires would take it for a sign of weakness, and they leap on weakness the way befflem leap on meat."

"What will you tell the Nipponese, then?" Pshing asked.

Atvar sighed once more. "Unfortunately, they have demonstrated strength. And they may be arrogant-or shortsighted-enough to use their new weapons without fear of punishment. Here, Pshing, tell them this: tell them we shall grant them all the diplomatic privileges they request. But tell them also that with privileges comes responsibility. Tell them we are now constrained to observe them more closely than ever before. Tell them we shall take a much more serious view of any potentially aggressive action they may prepare. Tell them they still are not powerful enough to seek any real test of strength against us, and that any attack on us will be crushed without mercy."

"Very good, Exalted Fleetlord!" his adjutant said, and used an emphatic cough. "It shall be done, in every particular."

"I thank you, Pshing. Oh-and one thing more," Atvar said. Pshing and Kirel both looked curious. The fleetlord explained: "Now we hope they listen."

As Liu Han paced through the prisoners' camp, she kept shaking her head. "No," she said. "I don't believe it. I don't want to believe it. It can't possibly be true."

Nieh Ho-T'ing gave her an amused look. "It can't possibly be true because you don't want to believe it? What kind of logic goes into a statement like that?"

"I don't know," she answered. "And I don't care, either. What do you think of that? Tell me where you heard that the eastern dwarfs used an explosive-metal bomb. Did the little scaly devils tell you? I doubt it." To show how much she doubted it, she used one of the little devils' emphatic coughs.

But Nieh said, "You do not want to believe it of the j.a.panese because you hate them even more than you hate the scaly devils."

"That..." Liu Han started to say that wasn't true, but discovered she couldn't. She did hate the j.a.panese, with a deep and abiding hatred. And why not, when they'd destroyed the village that had been her whole life and slaughtered the family she'd thought would be hers forever? She amended her words: "That doesn't matter. What matters is what's true and what isn't. And you didn't answer my question."

"Well, so I didn't," the People's Liberation Army officer admitted. He bowed to Liu Han, as if she were a n.o.blewoman from the old days, the days of the Manchu Empire. "I will, then. No, the scaly devils didn't tell me. But I heard the guards talking among themselves. I don't think they knew I understood."

"Oh," Liu Han said unhappily. She knew the scaly devils often didn't pay any attention to what their human captives might hear. Why should they? Even if the humans understood, what could they do about it? Nothing, as Liu Han also knew all too well. She scowled and kicked at the dirt. "Will the j.a.panese start using their bombs against the little devils here in China, then?"

"Who knows what the j.a.panese will do?" Nieh Ho-T'ing answered. "I often wonder if even they know ahead of time. But whether they use bombs or not, they've gained a lot of face by having them."

"So they have," Now Liu Han's voice went savage. She kicked the dirt again, harder than before. "They learned imperialism from the round-eyed devils. All we ever learned was colonialist oppression. The little scaly devils threw them out of China, but they kept most of their empire and they kept their freedom. And what have we got from the little devils? More colonialist oppression. Where is the justice in that?"

Nieh shrugged. "Justice comes with power. The strong have it. And they give their version of it to the weak. We were unlucky, for we were found weak at the wrong time."

When Liu Han looked out to the horizon, she did so through strands of razor wire the little scaly devils had set up around the perimeter of the camp. If that didn't tell her everything she needed to know about strength and weakness, what would? She scowled. "How can we use the j.a.panese to our advantage?"

"Now that is a better thought." Nieh Ho-T'ing set a hand on her shoulder for a moment, as if to remind her they'd been lovers once. "The Russians have always refused to give us explosive-metal bombs of our own. So have the Americans. Maybe the j.a.panese will be more reasonable."

"Maybe they'll hope the Russians get the blame," Liu Han said, which made Nieh laugh and nod. "That might be a reasonable hope, too. I wonder if Mao has this news yet."

"Mao always knows the news." Nieh spoke with great a.s.surance. "What he can do with it may be another question. I'm sure he'd be willing to deal with the j.a.panese to get an explosive-metal bomb. I'm not nearly so sure they'd be willing to deal with him."

"If I were one of the eastern dwarfs, I'd be afraid of dealing with anyone Chinese," Liu Han said. "They must know how much vengeance we owe them for what they did to us."