Rodire clutched his numb right arm with his left, then let go and knelt to scoop up the fallen laser with his left hand.

Thrumm!

Gerswin watched him drop before he moved toward the halfconscious man.

An image crossed his mind, of another man, retching out his guts at the results of a hellburner blast. Of a man going into single combat to avoid unnecessary casualties to a potential enemy.

Gerswin swallowed, once, twice, as he pushed the mental images away and moved toward the fallen attorney.

LXX.

RODIRE BLINKED, SQUINTING, although the light around him was dim.

"You awake?"

The voice was familiar. Then he remembered. Corso! The demon he had thought was merely a man! The man who had launched nuclear weapons into the capitol! When Lisa had been downtown . . . He tried to lurch toward Corso but could not lift himself off the bunk.

"I see you are."

"You are a killer, Shaik. Nothing but a killer."

"Admit to being a killer. But not just a killer. Never said this would be easy." Corso laughed once, the same annoying bark that was not a laugh. "You're as much to blame as I am."

"Me! I didn't unleash Lucifer. I didn't kill ten thousand innocents! You did! Not me! You!"

Corso sighed, and his shoulders dropped. "You really don't understand, do you?"

Rodire wanted to scream. Instead, he frowned. What was there to understand?

"Farscreen shows energy concentrations," interrupted the cool voice that had chilled Rodire before. "Standard heavy search pattern."

"Interrogative time before reaching detection range."

"Estimate fifteen standard minutes, plus or minus five."

"Stet. Commence checklist. Hold at prelift. Hold at prelift for voice command for liftoff."

"Understand checklist to prelift. Commencing immediately."

"Commence checklist at full-power status."

"Full-power status. Commencing checklist."

"Stet."

Rodire felt as though the Shaik was living in a different universe, and squinted, trying to let the younger man's words penetrate, trying to understand why Corso would say that he, Rodire, didn't understand.

"Hamline. Not enough time to explain. I'll dump what I can. Fast. Hope you can understand. Then I'm throwing you out."

As he talked, Corso had approached the bunk and touched something Rodire could not see. The harness released and retracted away from the attorney.

"Don't move. You're going to be dizzy if you move your head quickly, and you can't afford to pass out. Now. Where to start? All right." Corso's words were quick, more clipped than usual, and burst out in short groups. "You live on a repressive planet. Law controlled by a few firms. Food by a few family enterprises. Bureaucracy by a few others. People don't have much freedom to change. Personal freedom adequate, until Carlina started linking with DomSec. Declining now. Probably get worse, possible police state.

"Not enough education for most people to resist. Change has to come from the top, to begin with. People like you.

"Thought you might help. Thought a new business, built on new lines might start people thinking. It did, except Carlina, her type, decided CE was another route into the standard oligarchy. You let her do it, when you could have stopped her. Could have sent a message to me.

"Could have set up another administrator strong enough to stop her. Maybe I expected too much of you. You're a product of your culture. Unable to see beyond the patterns."

"But . . . my family . . . ," protested Rodire. Didn't the man understand? Carlina had no children, no heirs, no hostages to fortune.

"The future of your family was lost the moment you put their immediate comfort above your ideals, Hamline. So were you. I didn't know. Should have. My fault. Precedent here is terrible."

"Precedent? Is that all you think about?"

"Precedent is everything in your culture. Carlina's precedent means that everything new, everything that offers hope, can be turned into another instrument of repression. How could anyone ignore that? But you did. We'll both pay."

"ETA ten minutes, plus or minus four," added the cool voice from the control room.

"Get up. Slowly," commanded the hawk-eyed man. "You have to survive. For your remaining children. If not for them, for the people you betrayed once already."

"Betrayed? Who betrayed whom?"

"Hamline, would you please use your brains?" Corso's hard voice seemed tired. "You betrayed them when you refused to stand up to Carlina. You betrayed them again when you failed to notify me. You betrayed them a third time when you let her join forces with the secret police. You put your immediate family and comfort above the needs and rights of all the people. Don't talk about betrayal to me.

"So what did I do? I destroyed-crudely, but time was short-both the top of DomSec and CE, Limited. Shows that the system can be brought down. That might makes right doesn't always triumph, or at least, that there is a greater might to fear. Gives you an opening. That's all. The rest is up to you. Now get moving."

"Where?" Rodire slid to his shaky feet.

"Home. As soon as you get out of the scout, head for the far bay. Remember? Tunnel there. Comes out about a hundred meters from your estate. Take it and move. DomSec will blast anything in the air and around here, you included. Turn this into rubble."

Rodire stumbled as he entered the lock. "But what do I do?"

"What you should have done in the first place. You run the damned company. You treat the people like people. Not serfs. If you don't, you and your descendants will suffer. I mean suffer! Now get down the ramp. I'm lifting. If you're around when I power out, you'll be fried. Wasted too much time talking."

Rodire fell on the hard pavement as the ramp retracted. He staggered to his feet as he heard the lock door clank shut, and lurched toward the far bay and the tunnel.

Wheeeeeeee.

The whine spurred his lurch into a shambling trot.

When he finally reached the oval portal, he rested against it momentarily before hauling himself upright to survey the mechanism.

No access plates. No levers, and only a small wheel. He tried it. It spun easily clockwise, and the portal began to open. He peered inside, where the lighting was dim, but adequate.

Whhheeeeeeeeeee!

Staggering inside, he took a step before turning back and spinning the other wheel, the one on the tunnel wall. The portal closed smoothly, cutting off the sound.

As he remembered what Corso had said about the security forces, he trotted raggedly down the tunnel, gasping with each step.

After fifty meters he slowed to a walk, his legs cramping with the aftereffects of the stun jolts his body had taken, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other, one in front of the other. Underfoot, the flooring began to vibrate, first lightly, then enough to make his steps feel unsteady.

As quickly as it had come, the vibration halted.

Rodire kept walking, but looking back over his shoulder. He could no longer see the tunnel port where he had started. In front of him, the smooth-walled tunnel began to slope upward, and a dark splotch appeared ahead in the faint ring of light that the walls reflected into the distance before him.

Even though he was walking slowly, he was still panting.

Crump. Crump.

The muffled concussion shook the tunnel, hard enough to make him stagger, but he continued to move forward toward the exit portal.

Crump.

Reaching out with his right hand and touching the smooth p!asteel of the wall, he steadied himself, then plodded upward.

Whhhirrr. Crump!

The tunnel no longer seemed to stretch forever, but only a few yards toward a round black doorway of some sort.

He stopped and took two deep breaths.

Crump!

The floor beneath vibrated, and he lurched forward.

Finally his right hand touched cold metal, and he halted, trying to catch his breath, hoping that the wrenching cramps in his calves would ease.

He waited, wondering if the explosions would continue.

Crump!

He began to spin the wheel, watching carefully through the ever widening slit, and listening.

Stepping into a moldy cellar, he frowned as he looked up to discover that just the foundation remained of whatever structure had once stood above him. Then he glanced back at the still open portal, which was beginning to close itself, to see how the vines had been planted to conceal the relative newness of the tunnel exit. There was no exterior wheel to open the portal, and the exposed portal looked no different from the rest of the weathered foundation.

Rodire dragged himself toward the overgrown ramp that led to the ground level of the forest.

Wheeeeeee.

At the sound of the eastbound flitter, he ducked, then straightened. No one, assuming they could scan under the old and gnarled trees that covered this end of Corso's lands, was going to bother with a tired old man on foot.

Once out of the foundation, Rodire could see enough through the wide-spaced and massive trunks to get his bearings. His own lands lay less than a half a kilo ahead.

He limped forward.

Wheeeeee!

Crump!

Rodire shook his head. The security forces were late. Everyone was always late. He'd been late. Corso had been late, and now the remainder of the DomSecs were late, as if more force could undo what had already been done.

He shrugged as he plodded toward the immaculate white, stone wall that marked his estate. He could see Eduard and some of the staff standing higher on the upper lawn peering toward the column of smoke behind him where he knew the Hitters were still circling.

He supposed he had some work to do. He shrugged again. Not doing it wouldn't bring back Lisa. If Corso didn't like the way he ran CE, then Corso could have it any way he wanted. Rodire wouldn't block him. Carlina had, and what was left?

He refused to think about what might happen if the terrible Shaik were thwarted a second time. "You will suffer . . ." That had been clear.

Rodire sighed. No walls and fortresses for him. He might survive, and he might not, but one experience in watching Corso had been enough. One trip through hidden tunnels had been enough. And one daughter lost because he had not done what he had promised to a stranger was quite enough. Quite enough.

Corso might be the devil himself, but he kept his word. Both ways. And few enough did that.

The trees thinned as he neared the white, stone wall.

Eduard caught sight of his father and began running down to the wall.

Rodire smiled at the sight of the long-legged teenager covering the bluish grass more in leaps than in strides.

He waved, and his son waved back.

LXXI.

AS RODIRE STUMBLED down the ramp, Gerswin launched himself at the control couch, throwing the harness straps around himself even before he settled fully into position.

"Retract power connections."

"Power connections retracted."

"Retract ramp, and seal for liftoff."

"Ramp has been retracted, and locks are sealed. Ship is fully selfcontained."

"Interrogative power status."

"Power status is point nine nine plus."

As he spoke to the Al, Gerswin tapped out the Omega code on the comm link to the nerve center of the facility he was about to leave. Shortly, hopefully well after he had lifted clear, the inside of the hangar bunker would self-immolate in a raging inferno, leaving no trace of its history or recent usage. With the DomSecs likely to pinpoint his base of operations . . . he shook his head.

Nothing had gone exactly as planned. Now-another perfectly good retreat, another perfectly good source of revenue, both lost. Lost because . . .