"I'm afraid it's missing, Ms. Haseen," Antonio said, at last. "The young woman we just had removed may be part of a conspiracy to steal the technology. We have to find out whether she was working alone or with a gang."

"This is terrible," Skyler said. "Under our very noses! You will get to the bottom of this. Both of you," she added, glaring at Chinn.

"At once, Secretary," the station commander agreed. Her dismayed gaze met Antonio's.

"...More interviews are being conducted into the theft of the wonder substance, Opalite. Station police ask that if you have any information, you can submit it anonymously on any communications kiosk, no questions asked." The newscaster shifted her eyes to the next story on her teleprompter. "Fans of the Blue Asteroids were overjoyed today when their team went 1-0 against the undefeated Star Slayers in overtime..."

"Hope they don't come down here," Merg growled, kicking a discarded water tube that was in his way on the corridor floor. The owner, a girl of twelve or thirteen, scrambled to retrieve it and stuff it back among her belongings.

"Hey, sc.u.m!"

"Amlin," Merg muttered under his breath.

The guard muscled over to them and shoved her face close to theirs. "That conduit in the main square you said you fixed, it's spewing c.r.a.p all over the ground. There's sparks shooting out of it now. The traders want your eyeb.a.l.l.s."

Merg lifted a scanty eyebrow. "That's nothing we did."

"Take care of it, and I won't tell the Chief you screwed up! Now, move it!"

"Dammit," Merg muttered, as they retraced their steps toward the main corridor. "It's worse than being in the army."

"Eat new Frosted Star Cl.u.s.ters!" the cheerful woman's voice said. "Now with all essential vitamins and minerals! Part of this complete breakfast."

Hap couldn't see the screen. He didn't want to think about food at that moment. The leaking pipe had waited just until he and Merg were underneath it, then it had let loose. Gallons of unrefined sewage from Upstairs poured out all over them. Whole peelings, bones, feces, whatever dropped into the disposers up above was all over the place.

Merg grabbed for his radio. "Hey, Sal, turn off the main hose in section 54 Z. Yeah, the one in the market. No, now! Hang in there, kid."

Hap thrust his arm up inside the nearest whole section of pipe, feeling for the emergency valve. His lips and eyes were pressed shut. He wished he could plug his nose and ears against the stench, too. Suddenly, the torrent ceased. He staggered backwards and sat down in a foot of sludge. The traders, men and women who sold anything they could scavenge or make to one another in exchange for a few credits, stood on their tables or climbed handy beams and shouted complaints at the two workmen. Merg got on his radio and called for more maintenance men, but Hap doubted anybody else would come.

He rubbed his hands on his disgusting coverall, dashing away liquid garbage. Something went 'plink' as it flew away and hit the floor. Hap caught a glint of electric red and blue. A chip, perhaps? A piece of jewelry that someone accidentally dropped into a loo?

He picked up the small lump and shook the goo off it. It was an irregularly shaped piece of clay or something, but not like any clay he'd ever seen. It was pretty, glittering in the emergency lights. Hap stuffed it into his pocket to look at later. In the meantime, there was a lot of c.r.a.p to clean up. Then he was going to march into the bathhouse and demand a full shower, no matter if it wasn't his day to bathe.

Chief Gormley eyed Station Commander Chinn up and down. "Well, well. We're not usually this honored down here," he said, leaning back in his chair with his thick hands clasped comfortably over his belly. "It's like G.o.d paying a visit on Lucifer, or am I quoting you wrong? That's what you called me in the media last time."

"You stole a whole shipment of machinery," Chinn said, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt.

"Take that back!" Gormley shouted. At his back was a whole contingent of shipsuited men and women, all heavily armed. She wondered how they got ammunition down here, when it was strictly controlled Upstairs. She only had two, which she had only been able to bring to this meeting after considerable negotiation. "I received it. Too bad for you if the delivery captain was new and couldn't read the markings on the ports. I didn't change'em."

Chinn hesitated. What he said was true. Earth-Gov hadn't been happy about the error. Neither had the people who'd ordered those synthesizers. The only thing that had saved her and the captain from paying for the lost unit out of their own pocket had been her eloquence. She never dreamed she'd have her words thrown back in her teeth.

"I'm sorry. It was a mistake. Politics. Look, Chief Gormley, I've got a problem."

Gormley grinned. "I know. It's been all over the news. You tell 'em not to talk, but someone takes a reporter aside in confidence, and your face is red. p.i.s.ser, isn't it? It wasn't the girl who stole it. We're taking care of her. It wasn't nice of you to dump her down here just like that, just for dropping that lump down the drain by accident. She's a hard worker, and I think you even broke her contract not sending her back to Alpha. Well, personally, I haven't seen your missing Opalite. You can take that to the bank, though I doubt you will. Chances are if it went down a disposer it's been broken up into hydrogen by now. But if it didn't, a whole lot of hypothetical questions beg to be asked. If I knew where this thing was, and if I could return it to you safely and not break it by accident and not sell it to someone else and not go public about my new acquisition, what will it gain me? You know, I hate long negotiations. I've got so much to do, haven't I, mates?"

His little army murmured agreement.

"If you haven't got it," Chinn said, "then maybe one of your people found it. Listen to me," she addressed the ragged band. "If one of you finds it, I'll reward you very well. You can't use it; you don't know how. It's of no use down there. If you return the Opalite you can write your own ticket, but I am authorized to reward only one person. All you have to do is contact me in the main office Upstairs. Don't waste my time with phony claims." She nodded curtly to Gormley. "Thank you for seeing me." Spinning on her heel, she marched out.

Behind her, she heard Gormley laughing at her. "Lovely exit," he snickered.

"Chief?"

Aha, Gormley thought, his attention snapping away from his vidscreen, where the news was running a segment about the station police's phony search for the Opalite. Who'd have guessed it would be the boy.

"Come in, Hap," he said. "Sit down. Want some coffee? Better than the muck in the street machines."

The youth looked at the synthesizer nervously. "Well..."

"All right," Gormley said, taking charge. "Two coffees. Real connoisseurs drink it black." The machine churned and raised its flap on two cups. He handed one to the boy and sat down on the edge of his battered desk.

The boy felt in his pocket and brought out a folded sc.r.a.p of cloth. "I found it. This is it, isn't it?"

He shook the brown rag open. Prismatic shafts of living color, reds, blues, violets, golds and greens, lanced out of the knot of pale matrix, strong enough to knock a person's eyes out. Gormley nodded, grinning broadly.

"Congratulations, Hap. So that's what a hundred million credits looks like, eh?"

The very concept of that much wealth was too much for the boy. His hands started shaking. Gormley took everything out of his hands and put it on the desk.

"I guess you'll want to talk to the Station Commander, then," he said.

"Yes, sir!"

"Thought about what you want to ask for as a reward?"

Hap nodded vigorously. He was almost grateful to the burst pipe for raining down c.r.a.p on him. "I want to go Upstairs, Chief."

Gormley's eyebrows rose up toward his thinning hair. "Not a chance."

"But why not?" Hap said, crestfallen. "She said I could write my own ticket. You don't want me to do it?"

The Chief blew a raspberry. "What I want has nothing to do with it. You heard Chinn when she was desperate. They've all had time to think about their problem. Don't try to ask for too much. This is a big fat embarra.s.sment to them. You know what they did to that girl who made the mistake. They shucked her down here without hesitation. She was nothing to them. You're less than nothing. They'll promise you everything you want."

"But this'll be my ticket Upstairs! A job! An ID! A home! A wife! Kids!"

"Don't do it," the Chief warned, looking alarmed for the first time. "If you do, you're marked. You don't know how to live up there."

"I've seen it all on vids," Hap protested. He didn't understand why the Chief was trying to hold him back. "They'll show me what to do."

"No, they won't. You'll be on your own. Anything you get at gunpoint, like this, they'll resent forever. You'll make mistakes, plenty of them. They'll be waiting. First infraction, even a tiny one-zing! All your benefits, gone. Second infraction-bang! Jail. Third-you're back down here."

"At least I'll have had a chance to try," Hap said.

"I've had it, and it's not as great as you think. Settle for your dreams as dreams, kid, and you'll never be disappointed. I'm free down here. I'm king, because I only have what I can hold. Can you control anything? Are you ready?"

"Sure I am," Hap said. "I'm not a kid!"

The Chief smiled ruefully. "See? You can't even stand up to me, and I'm only one level up the food chain from you. You are as far away from the powers that be as you are from the very stars outside."

Hap was crestfallen. "So what should I do?"

"Give it up," the Chief advised him. "This whole situation is bigger than your next meal. It's bigger than your life. They're going to look at you like a bug that learned to talk."

"Then, you teach me. Please. Help me. I want to go Up. I've never had the chance of anything in my life."

Gormley shook his head with a paternal smile. "You've always been the dreamer. I envy you that. I haven't had a real dream in years."

"Teach me," Hap pleaded. "I know I can get along up there. Teach me how to ask so they won't get mad at me. I'll stay out of trouble. I swear."

"Teach you everything I know in five minutes? All right. I'll keep it simple." Gormley leaned forward over the desk and pointed at him. Hap stared at the finger. "Listen. They're always saying in the vids that knowledge is power. Knowledge isn't power. Knowledge is knowledge. Confidence is power. Everyone is insecure. Make'em think you know something they don't, or have something they need, and you can get the upper hand. But it all falls apart if you can't pull it off with confidence. There," he said, leaning back again. He looked smaller than he had when Hap had come into the room, older and more shrunken. "I've given you everything I can. If you can make it now, I hope that the next time I see you, you're up among the stars." He sighed and reached for the communicator on his desk. "Can't delay any longer. You've got a call to make."

"Chief..." Hap said, hesitantly. Gormley took his hand off the control pad. "There's no hard feelings, is there? Chinn said the reward's for one. I... I can do things for you once I'm Up. I'll try..."

Gormley held up a hand. "Enjoy it, son. I don't need a thing. Down here we fight over cigarette b.u.t.ts, but if you make a fortune, it all yours."

"Huh?''

"Money makes you lonely, because it throws up walls. When you've got nothing, that's when you know if you have friends or not. Remember that. It's the man who has the least who gives the most."

Hap didn't understand, but he committed the words to memory. Shaking, he watched as the Chief dialed up Station Commander Chinn's office. He straightened his back as the woman's face appeared on the screen.

"Yeah, we've got it." Gormley glanced at Hap, and gave him a thumb's-up. "All safe and sound. I've got a young man who wants to come Upstairs and talk to you about his reward."

The blue-white-clad guards who met Hap at the lift station all wrinkled their noses as he walked out of the lift. Hap felt defensive. He was as clean as three sonic showers in a row could make him. He threw his head back and walked out of the lift without saying a word. The guards, two men and two women in uniforms so tidy they looked new, surrounded him and marched him off. Maybe Hap did stink compared with them. He'd had no way to tell before. The first thing he noticed, not even a step out of the box, was the air. A light, fresh breeze brushed his cheeks. It smelled of flowers, or perfume. No, he was wrong: it smelled of nothing. Pure air. His first miracle.

He was so excited he didn't know what to look at first. Not a single speck of anything was on the floor, and it was coated with a spongy material that slightly rebounded his steps. The walls were made of the same high-impact ceramic as the ones below that weren't missing their facade, but they were clean and undamaged. Huge vidscreens were embedded in the walls at just above eye level. The audio hummed, not blared. And the people-they all seemed to be on vid, too. They shone as if they were polished. Even after a shower everybody Belowstairs seemed still to be a little dull or dusty. At a corner Hap noticed another pack of guards walking towards them, escorting a tramp toward the lifts. When he got a little closer he realized he was looking at a polished wall. He was seeing his own reflection. So that's what everyone saw him as.

Hap steeled himself. He threw his head back and walked onward with dignity. Once the Chief told him he had to act confident he watched vids; until he found a role model, and studied him. The man in the vids met everyone's eyes with a little smile and a nod, and kept his back straight. When he listened, he leaned his ear toward the speaker, eyes down and a little hooded. When people looked at him as he walked, Hap met their eyes and made his little smile. He was a vidscreen person now. It didn't matter that his suit had three owners before him. Over it he now wore a blast-suit of phony confidence. This was the way, the Chief said, the only way to get what he wanted. Mentally, he ticked off the list: the first thing was an ID. That was the biggest request, the only one that really mattered. Then a job. He didn't care what he did. He was a good technician, and he knew Station systems inside and out. And they'd have to give him somewhere to live temporarily until he made enough to pay for his own room. And food rations until his first paycheck. If they wanted their little lump back, that is what they would have to give him.

The tall man in the impeccable black collarless suit rose and inclined his head gravely as the guards showed Hap into the big room. As overwhelmingly beautiful as the corridors were on the way up, this place was something special, like the backgrounds in a vid about presidents and kings. The soft rose of the walls framed a long elliptical table of real wood without a single pit in its surface. It was gorgeous. The Chief's grand desk looked like sc.r.a.p beside it. He was awed into silence. Around the gleaming oval were more grave-looking people.

"Sir, won't you join us?" the tall man asked Hap. "Please, sit there."

Antonio eased the visitor into the seat at the head of the table and settled down beside him, wearing his most suave visage. The boy didn't seem impressed by his surroundings. He must know what he had, and what he wanted. Antonio waited for him to speak. Instead, the boy regarded him with a polite smile. He was waiting, too. Antonio was taken aback by his confidence.

"May I introduce myself? I'm Perry Antonio, president of Techgen." He introduced everyone around the table, ending with Min Haseen, on the visitor's other side.

In a low voice the young man said, "I'm Hap Duxon." He fell silent, wearing a little smile.

Antonio got nervous. The boy, he thought, must know he has all the advantage. Since they didn't know where the Opalite was, they had to play his game. The visitor still waited.

"Well, Hap... Mr. Duxon... We are all very glad you came up here today. I can't stress how important it is to have the Opalite returned to us so quickly. You do have it safe?"

Duxon nodded gravely, keeping his eyes a little lowered while Antonio talked, but meeting them fully when he stopped.

"Yes, it's safe."

"Good!" Antonio was rattled. How could outcast sc.u.m be so serene in the presence of every big name on the station? Was he on drugs? Antonio wished he was. "Well, you're not returning it just because it makes us happy. You've come about your reward. Naturally, it should be commensurate with the value of the object. We were very upset that the news media started so many rumors. Eight billion credits!" he said, with a little laugh. "This little sample isn't worth a fraction of that, but I will admit to you, Mr. Duxon, that it is enormously valuable. On a hypothetical level, what would it take to persuade you to release it? The price of a new flitter, perhaps? A new flat, with luxury furnishings? Would you like to travel? Have you ever seen Earth? I tell you frankly, Mr. Duxon, we're prepared to go all the way to a million credits, if you are able to return the Opalite now."

Hap liked it when the executive called him Mr. Duxon. He never heard his last name down Below. He'd had to look it up to make sure he remembered it properly because the Chief a.s.sured him everyone Upstairs used theirs. Everyone here smiled at him, wanted him to feel comfortable in his nice springy chair.

It was a good thing he'd studied the vid actor, because their offers overwhelmed him into terrified silence. It was one thing to dream of a personal flitter, but this man was offering one to him, for real. To travel off the Station? Or he could buy all these things with a million credits! What to ask for? he wondered. He looked around at the people at the table, trying to guess what they'd choose.

As he met their eyes they all smiled at him. They seemed nice, but their eyes were cold. Hap suddenly realized that everything the Chief had told him was true: they'd hate him forever if he overreached. He couldn't take a million credits. A vast fortune like that would set him up, but it wouldn't keep him out of their hands. If he traveled he'd still have to come back here. He almost opened his mouth to ask for the new flat. His corridor was getting more crowded, and the overflow valves on his level kept opening up to emit gas in the night. But that would mean living up here among them. The Station Commander was at the other end of the table. Hap knew she'd remember his face. There must be vid pickups in the walls that were capturing every angle. He was marked. The Chief warned him to settle for small dreams, ones he could control.

"Can I?" his throat closed. He cleared it. "Can I have something to eat? Food?"

The shining people all looked at one another.

"He's hungry," said the dark-eyed woman at his left.

"Of course," Antonio said. "I am so sorry, Mr. Duxon. We've brought you all the way here and never offered you refreshments." He nodded sharply to a white-suited girl at the end of the room, who disappeared through a doorway.

"I have never been in the other half of the Station," said the dark-eyed woman, Ms. Haseen. "Don't you have enough to eat down there?"

"Of course they do!" Commander Chinn snapped. Her face turned red. She and Hap both knew the truth about the recyler-synthesizers. Hap watched her, quietly, until a tray was set down before him by the girl. She wore a uniform like Soraya's.

He'd met Soraya before he came up. She was still wearing hers, but it wasn't as clean as this one. Soraya was trying hard to keep herself dignified, but her big, scared blue eyes told him she was frightened half to death and still mourning about what they'd done to her. Her whole life taken away in an instant, like an explosion. Lots of the people Belowstairs made fun of her, ha.s.sled her, but the Chief told them to back off. He was protecting her, but doubted she'd last. Chances were she'd throw herself into a recycler pretty soon.

He smiled his thanks at the server, then looked down into a bowl. His first reaction was revulsion. A fume simmered off the lumpy substance in it, a rich, heady aroma like sewage, but then he realized all the bitter stinks weren't there. It was... it was pure. Pure food. He scooped up a spoonful, and had to close his eyes at the exquisite taste. Nothing he had ever, ever eaten was so good.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Duxon?" Antonio asked.

"No. No, thank you," Hap said, indistinctly, around his mouthful of soup. He hardly wanted to swallow the first bite, it was so good, but he had to have another, and another. Before he knew it, he was sc.r.a.ping the bowl. He longed to pick it up and drink the last drops, but all the vids showed that as being bad manners. The rest of the tray was full of more Upstairs food: little hors d'oeuvres with orange roe and baby artichokes; whipped meat paste or cheese paste in white vegetable stalks; yellow squares of cheese, not stinky or rough-textured, paired with tan crackers, which were crisp, not soggy. Together they were fun to eat. He grinned around at his hosts at the pleasure of it all. They watched him solemnly, and he remembered his dignity. The last thing on the tray was a round tart the size of his palm, its surface covered with jewel-colored slices of fruit and with something in the bottom that looked like yellow slime mold but tasted... it was so soft a taste he had no words for it. The substance melted away in a creamy haze. He almost slipped into a trance enjoying it. He'd remember this meal for the rest of his life. This was what the G.o.ds ate.

The shining people watched him eat every bite. When there was nothing left, he wiped his mouth with the white cloth napkin, worth a hundred times more than his shipsuit, and pushed away the tray. For a feast like this he'd have returned a thousand Opalites.

"Okay," he said. "Here." A bargain was a bargain. He reached into his pocket and put the wad of cloth on the table.

The smooth-haired woman with big liquid eyes almost jumped for the package, but sat down again. She let him unfold the wrappings until the glowing lump was revealed. They all looked it in silence. Hap swallowed. It was beautiful. If it could do everything the news reports said it could do, then it was a miracle as well.

"We haven't come to terms about the reward yet," Antonio said smoothly. "You're ent.i.tled to a finder's fee. Call it a mere consideration. We could extend the privileges of the Station to you, with my colleague's approval," he extended a hand toward Chinn. "Naturally, that would require you being issued an identification chip, so that you would have the freedom of the Station, and the reaches beyond..."

Hap opened his mouth to say that he had already gotten his reward. He realized that he was wrong. He was a fool. He had been wrong even to try and do what he'd come up here to ask for. They were ready to give him a planet, and he'd been about to settle for a square meal. The Chief was right. He was starlanes out of his world up here. He snapped his mouth shut.

The girl came around again, with a plate of tiny cakes and brown squares which she set down before him. She smiled at him, then scurried back to her place. Hap stared at the pet.i.ts fours and candies. That was real chocolate there on that plate. He was full, but he'd be d.a.m.ned if he was going to leave Upstairs food uneaten. He just couldn't manage it. What would these people do if he put the cakes in his pocket to take with him?