He could dwell on that later, assuming there was a later. His eyes scanned the data and representational screens, checking the reported positions and projected search patterns of the approaching DornSec flitters.

His fingers continued through the liftoff checks as he studied the screens and as he spoke again.

"Get the DomSecs on audio. Local tactical."

"Local tactical on audio," the AI repeated without inflection.

A hissing began as the Al tried to raise the signals to audibility without the direct link to the facility antenna array.

"Fareach two . . . negative on energy flows . . ."

". . . port, three zero. Vector two six zero . . ."

". . . Thunder three. Say again . . . three . . ."

". . . casualties estimated at three zero thousand . . . three zero thousand . . ."

The man in the counterfeit Lidoran DomSec uniform tightened his lips, wiped his damp forehead, and touched the control keys once more, watching the screens to ensure that the departure gates were fully retracted and clear of obstructions.

"Target contact, Beta class flitter, at ten kays, bearing zero eight zero," the Al's cool voice interjected, overriding the Lidoran transmissions momentarily.

"Thanks."

Gerswin's fingers touched the last key on the board prior to the liftoff sequence, and the whining that signified full power-up began to build.

"Going to be a full power lift," he remarked to no one in particular.

"Acknowledging full power lift," the Al answered his remark that needed no answering.

The Caroljoy edged from the center of the hangar into position before the tunnel.

Whhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The scout slipped up the tunnel and burst through the carefully maintained gap in the trees, a black streak screaming like lightning back toward the heavens from which it had struck .

". . . target at two six five. Target at two six five . . . tentatively identified as deep space craft."

"Gnasher two, cleared to attack. Cleared to attack."

Gerswin had already dismissed the flitters. Most atmospherics didn't carry high acceleration missiles, nor missiles with any range. Even if the DomSec flitters had, unless they had launched those the moment they had acquired the Caroljoy on their screens, it would have been impossible for them to have caught any scout on a full power departure.

The real problem would lie with orbit control, and whether there were system patrollers close at hand.

His departure was programmed for atmospheric envelope exit on the opposite side of El Lido from orbit control. While DomSecs could speculate, they couldn't be absolutely certain until he actually broke orbit.

"Switch to orbit control frequencies."

"Orbit control on audio."

Gerswin continued to scan the screens, checking the ever increasing gap between the Caroljoy and the DomSec patrols, noting how the security flitters began to use their shorter range missiles on the recently vacated retreat.

The Caroljoy's auxiliary screen showed the energy concentrations around the facility as the DomSecs turned their thwarted fury on the concealed hangar-bunker already far behind and below.

"Facility self-destruct has commenced," the AI noted.

Gerswin nodded at the announcement. Shortly, between the destruct thermals and the DomSec bombardment, there would be nothing left but fused and broken metal, stone, and ceramics, over which the DomSecs could pore to their hearts' content.

"Orbit control, this is Thunder three. Interrogative intercept on outbound target. Interrogative intercept."

Instinctively, Gerswin checked his position. The Caroljoy was almost clear of the envelope, and, as he had plotted, in position with the planet between him and orbit control.

"Thunder three, outbound target screened from orbit control. Projected course beyond range of either orbit control or patrollers on station."

By now the rear screen showed an El Lido whose image was rapidly becoming a disc that would fill less than the entire rear screen.

Monitoring the scout's power status, Gerswin shook his head. Eighty percent, down twenty percent just for liftoff. No wonder he had gotten clear so quickly. But power was expensive, even on Aswan, if one considered the acquisition costs, and speed was paid in power terms.

Then, everything about El Lido had been expensive, he reflected as he returned his attention to the representational screen, which now displayed the entire system, including El Lido and its orbit control.

Two winking red dots along the general course line to system exit corridor one indicated the two on-station system patrollers.

Gerswin had already sent the Caroljoy hurtling along a different course-the one to the less favored exit point. The second corridor, because the system's irregular gas corona extended farther on one side of the system, required more travel time in-system before a ship could reach space clear enough for a jumpshift.

He calculated, hands hovering above the console. Roughly, at his present screamingly uneconomical acceleration, he could have reached the jump point along corridor one in two hours.

Worrying at his lip with his teeth, he checked the screens again.

"Time to jump?"

"Three hours, plus or minus point five."

The farscreens were clear, except for the distant patrollers, not surprisingly, since jumpship travel anywhere was scarce, and to El Lido, isolated as it was, even scarcer.

The red lights of the patrollers, flashing against the darkness of the representational screen, seemed almost accusing.

"Accusing about what?"

"Inquiry imprecise. Please clarify," requested the AI.

"Disregard," snapped the once-upon-a-time commodore.

What had gone wrong? Or had anything?

The biologics would continue to be produced, and Hairline would doubtless exert some effort to improve social conditions. And thirty thousand casualties represented . . . what? An initial payment?

"Are you still asking too much of people?" he muttered, not letting his eyes leave the screens.

"Question represents a value judgment. Without further data, no answer is possible." The AI's cool feminine tone was like ice down his spine.

Whose values? Whose judgments? He had killed or injured thirty thousand people, some theoretically innocent, because he felt it necessary; because he felt his own creation had been perverted to serve an already too-repressive government. Did he have that right?

"You took that right the day you decided to restore Old Earth."

Did that make him right?

He shook his head. Right was a value judgment, as the Al had said so coldly.

Had he been too hard on Rodire? Had he expected too much of the young idealist when he and his children had grown older? Did the children make that much difference?

Corson, what would you have been like, had we shared a life? Would you have turned me, too? Turned me from fire and ice?

He pushed that thought away from the trails down which it had led him too many times before.

"Time to jump?"

"Three hours, plus or minus point two."

Why did people let themselves be ruled so easily? Why did they let others enslave them? Why didn't they fight?

"Why didn't they fight?"

"Question imprecise. Please reformulate."

The businessman who was an idealist with a vision and who had been a commodore did not rephrase his question. Instead he stood up and turned away, pacing from the cramped control room into the equally small, but less cluttered, crew room.

Finding the techniques to reclaim his home had proved difficult enough, and the refining and producing was even more difficult. Plus, refinement and production required resources and funding, and while obtaining both had been the technically easiest part, it had been by far the most time-consuming, and had created the most problems. But without the resources to bankroll the development and the field testing and the production, all the foundation's research products would be worthless.

Then, still unknown, was the question of the Empire. While it would certainly continue to passively oppose any wide-scale adoption of the techniques the foundation was developing, how soon would the forces marshaling against Gerswin be able to turn the Empire against him.

He had Lyr to thank, time and time again, for turning the inquiries and blunting the attacks, but Lyr and her allies could not hold back the tide forever.

He shook his head. One thing in his favor was that his opponents did not know where they stood. Nor would they for years to come, though Gerswin could sense it now. And his own stupidity in using tacheads! Thirty thousand innocents because he hated tyranny and personal greed. Thirty thousand innocents because he had held others to his standards. He shook his head. Better to write off an enterprise, or to wait until no one suspected he could return. Brute force wasn't the answer. Yet, knowing better, he had turned to it.

He shook his head once more.

"You'd better hope it's considered an isolated case. You'd better hope."

He walked back toward the controls, thinking about Rodire, and about the man's family.

Corson, where are you? Beyond? Never? Martin . . . ?

But Martin he had not known, even briefly, only known about when there was nothing he could have done.

He reseated himself at the control couch, tilted now into a standard seat, and tried to refocus his thoughts on his next operations.

He couldn't afford another mistake like El Lido. Not for himself, or Lyr, or Martin, or the people involved.

Not ever.

LXXII.

THE GOLD STARBURST in the center of the console flared.

The man known as Eye stared at the golden light, which remained burning brightly. Behind his shadow mask his mouth nearly dropped open.

The Emperor's call-but why?

He frowned, wondering whether he should answer the almost mythical summons, still sitting before the console.

Three red lights blipped into place on the screen readouts, and his eyes widened.

He shook his head. Apparently the old procedures still held. All his defense screens were down.

What was it that Thurson had said years ago? That the myths always triumphed in the end, whether a man believed in them or not?

With a sigh, he stood, not that he had much choice as a squad of Corpus Corps assassins bracketed his private portal.

"The Emperor awaits, you, ser."

While all gave him a wide berth, they seemed almost excited as they escorted him along the secret tunnels, tunnels he thought only known to the Eye and the two Eye Regents.

"How did you know this was the way?" he asked the Corps squad leader.

"The Emperor gave us the map, ser, after he dropped your screens, ser."

Eye said nothing further until the tunnel narrowed, a narrowing that reflected nearness to the palace.

Opposite the portal that exited in his own guest quarters, assigned to him in his person as the Duke of Calendra, the Corps squad leader halted and touched a databloc against the inlaid tile of the Imperial seal that stood man-tall on the right side of the corridor.

The seal swung back to reveal another tunnel, one that seemed to lead upward.

With a shrug, Eye let himself be escorted away from his own quarters and toward whatever destination the Corpus Corps killers had in mind.

Even with his age, he had no doubt that he could have dispatched at least two of the Corps troops. But there were eight, and he did not want to give them any excuse to kill him out of hand.

He had reasoned with the Emperor before and occasionally gotten his point. Reason provided a better hope than attack.

The squad halted at the liftshaft.

"Go on, ser." The squad leader gestured. "This is as far as we go."

"Alone?" Eye asked with mild sarcasm.

"Alone, ser."