Fa.s.sa smiled through her tears. "If s a lovely, lovely ar- gument, Sev. Unfortunately, not a word of that is true, I am," said Fa.s.sa, "or rather, I was an extremely competent contractor." She sniffed. "d.a.m.n Daddy. He accidentally sent me into a business I had a real talent for."

"That being the case," said Sev softly, "why the h.e.l.l couldn't you just be a contractor, instead of slinking around in those dresses that kept falling off your shoulders and driving middle-aged men crazy?"

Fa.s.sa's face hardened. "Ask Daddy." She tried to turn away, but Sev had hold of both her hands.

"I guessed some time ago," he said. "And ... I've been checking old gossipbytes. Was that why your mother killed herself?"

Fa.s.sa nodded. Tears were streaming down her face unchecked. "Well, then. You won't want to have any- thing more to do with me. I understand. I'm not, I'm 264.

6f not... it's not just Daddy, you know. There've been all those other men...." She gulped down a sob.

For a man who'd been on the verge of collapse a few hours earlier, Sev demonstrated remarkable powers of recovery. Nancia was impressed by the strength with which he drew Fa.s.sa into his arms against her resis- tance. "You," he said deliberately, "are the woman I love, and nothing that happened before today matters in the slightest to me." He paused for a moment and Nancia blacked out her visual sensors. She didn't real- ly think that the requirements of surveillance on Fa.s.sa included watching Sev Bryley-Sorenson kiss her as desperately as a man in vacuum gasping for oxygen.

On Shemali, Micaya Questar-Benn had finally per- suaded Polyon to drop die sanitized V.I.E tour of his factory. She didn't believe he could produce enough hy- perchips to satisfy her requirements, she told him, and what was more, she didn't believe he would be able to ex- tend the factory's production fast enough for her. The safety requirements mandated by the Trade Commission simply took too long to set up and maintain.

Polyon suggested that the Trade Commission could, collectively, do something anatomically impossible for the individual members. And if the General wanted to see just how fast he could turn out hyperchips, he added, she and her friend could just follow him.

They'd have to wear protective gear, though, he said, struggling into a silverdoth suit himself as he spoke.

While Micaya and Forister put on the suits provided for guests, Micaya commented innocently that the cost of suiting up an entire production line of prisoners must be prohibitive, and that she didn't see how they maintained the dexterity necessary for the a.s.sembly process while working from inside the bulky silvercloth gloves.

Polyon chuckled and agreed that the difficulties posed were enormous.265.

On board, Sev and Fa.s.sa were talking again; Nancia discreetly tuned in to their conversation, but there wasn't much in it to require her attention. Fa.s.sa was gloomy about the prospect of years in prison. Sev wasn't any too cheerful about it himself, but he as- sured Fa.s.sa that he'd wait for her.

"I don't think they let murderers out," Fa.s.sa said.

"Unless they decide to mindwipe me."

"Fa.s.sa, you are not a murderer. Caleb isn't dead."

Fa.s.sa's slender body became quite still. "He isn't?"

"You were right," Sev said. "n.o.body tells you any- thing. He isn't dead. He isn't even seriously iU; he was in therapy for nerve damage when I left Bahati."

"Latest bulletins from Summer-lands say that he should recover full function quite soon and will probably be restored to active brawn status within the next few weeks," Nancia confirmed.

Sev and Fa.s.sa broke apart and looked up at the overhead speaker.

"Nancia!" Sev exclaimed. "I didn't know you were listening."

"You gave me the orders yourself," Nancia reminded him.

"Oh. Well." Sev thought. "Can I cancel the orders?

Will you obey me if I do?"

"I really shouldn't."

"Lock the door on us both," Sev suggested. "I don't mind. But please, could we have some privacy now?

This voyage back to Central is likely to be my last chance to be alone with my girl for a long, long time."

Fa.s.sa looked ridiculously happy for someone feeing trial and a stiff prison sentence. Nancia left them to it.

She didn't have much to occupy her on Shemali, either. Micaya and Forister hadn't waited to take the full tour of the hyperchip a.s.sembly line; a few images 266.of prisoners working unshielded with skin-destroying acids, in rooms that leaked poisonous gas, were all the evidence they needed to bolster Sev's detailed eyewitness testimony. The datacordings were par- ticularly d.a.m.ning when accompanied, as they were, by Polyon's pleasant, cultured voice explaining just how he had cut costs and speeded up production by condemning the prisoners in his care to lingering, painful deaths by industrial poisoning. By the time Nancia had scanned those images, Micaya had already slapped tanglewires around Polyon's wrists, ankles, and even his neck. With die ankle field activated, she read him the formal statement of arrest "You can't do this!" Polyon protested. "Do you know who I am? I'm a de Gras-Waldheim. And I have Gover- nor Lyautey's approval for everything I've done here!"

"My brainship has already transmitted a request for drug testing on Lyautey and all other civilian personnel,''

Forister told him. "I suspected Blissto when I heard your s.p.a.ceport controller talking. What did you do, make ad- dicts of anybody who could blow the whistle on you?"

""You can't arrest me" Polyon repeated as though he hadn't understood a word.

Micaya Questar-Benn had a smile that would have chilled steel to the snapping point. "Want to bet, son?

Walk in front of me. Slowly, now. Wouldn't want the tanglefield to think you're trying to escape and cut off your feet; it's too quick and easy a death for your sort"

And when Polyon opened his mouth again, she activated the extended tanglefield from the neck wire to keep him from flapping his tongue about any more.

As they left the a.s.sembly lines, a ragged cheer went up from the prisoners behind them.

* CHAPTER SIXTEEN

To Polyon's shock and amazement, the cyborg freak and her partner actually managed to convince Gover- nor Lyautey that they were ent.i.tled to arrest a de Gras-Waldheim and take him away. "Convince" was probably too strong a word. Polyon recognized with rueful amus.e.m.e.nt that he'd been caught in his own trap. The governor, like all the civilians left on Shemali, was constantly dosed with Alpha bint Hezra- Fong*s Seductron. Since Lyautey was in a nonessential job, Polyon kept his maintenance level of Seductron so high that the governor did little but nod amiably and agree with whoever spoke to him last Somebody must have figured that out and thought of this way to use it against him. With his mouth covered by tanglefield, Polyon could do nothing but listen while this Micaya Questar-Benn and her partner rattled off official-sounding words, flourished their forged credentials - they had to be forged-and took him away in the very flyer he himself had sent to pick them up at the s.p.a.ceport They considerately removed the tanglefield from his mouth as soon as the flyer took off. Polyon main- tained a dignified silence during the short flyer hop back to the s.p.a.ceport, but his brain was working furiously. He refused to believe that this "arrest*' was real Real Central agents had their own transport, they didn't hitch a ride on an OG cruiser or get a conniving little wh.o.r.e like Fa.s.sa del Parma to front for them. This had to be some trick cooked up by Darnell and Fa.s.sa to get control of the hyperchips. He had no intention of 268.

giving them or their friends the amus.e.m.e.nt of seeing him struggle and protest. Later, when he'd figured out their game, he would turn the tables and make them squirm. Darnell would be easy to break, but Fa.s.sa...

he smiled unpleasantly at the thought of exacdy how he'd take the pride out of her. He'd never yet threatened Fa.s.sa physically. Maybe it was time to start Then, as the flyer came gently down on the landing pad, he blinked and saw the ship for a moment sil- houetted against the bright sky, only sleek lines and smooth design, without the contusing detail of the OG colors and logo, and he knew where he'd seen a ship like that before.

"Courier Service," he groaned, and for the first time he began to believe that he was really under arrest "Got it in one," said the spare, quiet man who'd accompanied General Questar-Benn, offering Polyon his hand to help him to the ground. "Time I intro- duced myself. Forister Armonttllado y Medoc, brawn totheFN-935.M "Kftt a brawn, old man?" Polyon sneered. TU believe that when I see it!" He refused the offer of the steadying hand and swung himself out of the flyer, feet together, hands in front of him, still with athletic grace. Even widi his hands and feet constrained in tanglefields, he still had his strength and his natural balance.

"You'll not have to wait long," Forister replied mild- ly. "I'll introduce you to my Brainship as soon as we're aboard."

Polyon maintained a grim silence while these two escorted him to the ship's lift, up to the pa.s.senger level and down a depressing mauve-painted corridor to the cabin where he was to be confined. Once there, he leaned against the wall and waited. The brawn Forister and the cyborg Micaya withdrew, leaving him still con- fined in the double tanglefield about wrists and ankles.

"Wait!" he cried out "Aren't you going to - "269.

The door irised shut behind them with a series of d.i.c.ks along the concentric rings, and a moment later a sweet female voice spoke from the overhead speaker.

"Welcome aboard the FN-935," she - it - said. "I am Nancia, the brainship of this partnering. Your ar- rest is legal under Central Code - " and she reeled off paragraphs and statute references that meant nothing to Polyon. "As a prisoner awaiting trial on capital crimes, you may legally be confined by tanglefield for the duration of the voyage, which will be approximately two weeks. General Questar-Benn has transferred the tanglefield control function to my computer; if you will give me your word not to attempt damage to me or to your fellow pa.s.sengers, I will release the tanglefield now and allow you the freedom of your cabin."

Polyon glanced over the narrow s.p.a.ce and laughed sardonically. "You have my word," he said. Words were cheap enough.

As soon as he spoke the electronic field ceased vibrating. His wrists and ankles p.r.i.c.kled with return- ing life; an uncomfortable sensation, but far, fer better than being electronically bound hand and foot for the next two weeks.

The brainship blathered on with threats about sleepgas and other restraints that could be applied if he gave it any trouble; Polyon didn't bother to listen.

He had too much to think about Besides, he didn't in- tend to do anything the brainship could see. He wasn't that stupid.

Un.o.btrusively, under cover of flexing his wrists to restore full movement, he patted his breast pocket and felt the rea.s.suring lump right where it should be, where he always carried a minihedron with the latest test version of his master program. He was clever, Polyon thought. Too clever by half for this pair to master for long.

270.

6f Oh, he'd make some trouble for this interfering brainship and its doddering brawn, all right, just as soon as he got the chance. But it wasn't trouble that they would be able to see or hear coming, and there wouldn't be a d.a.m.ned thing they could do about it once he'd started. d.a.m.n them! He wasn't ready for this; he was still two to three years short of having everything in place. How much would it cost him to make his planned move ahead of schedule?

Impossible to calculate; he'd just have to go ahead and find out later. Whatever the cost, it couldn't be as great as that of going tamely back to Central for trial and imprisonment. It had always been a gamble, Polyon comforted himself. He'd always known that one day somebody might figure out about the hyper- chips, and that he'd have to move fast if that occurred, At least now, even if the move was being forced on him, it was forced by some ignoramuses who didn't even guess how he might retaliate. He would have the advantage of surprise on his side.

If only he'd had time to implement Final Phase!

Then he could have started everything right now, with a spoken word of command. As it was, he'd have to get this minihedron into a reader slot before he could make his move.

There weren't any reader slots in this cabin; and he was supposed to be confined here until they reached Central; and if he tried to break out of the cabin, the d.a.m.ned brainship would drop him with sleepgas or a tanglefield before he got to any place with reader slots.

Polyon bared his teeth briefly. He did love a chal- lenge. He still had his voice, and his wits, and his charm, and sensor contact with the brainship and her brawn. He set to work with those tools to dig himself an impalpable tunnel to freedom, placing each word and each request as carefully as a miner shoring up the loose earth in the tunnel roof.271.

In die long dragging hours until they reached the Sin- gularity point for transition into Central subspaoe, there wasn't much to do but play games or read. Forister and Micaya began another tri-chess contest; Nancia obliging- ly created the holocube for them and maintained a record of the moves, but warned them that some of the game data might be lost if she needed to call on that par- ticular set of coprocessors during Singularity.

"That's all right," Forister said absently. "Mic and I have been interrupted by all sorts of things in our time. Aren't you partnering me, then?"

"I don't think I'd better," Nancia replied with real regret. "I think I should monitor our pa.s.sengers.

They've been allowed a great deal of freedom, you know."

Micaya snorted. "Freedom! They're free to move within their cabins, that's all. Granted, I wouldn't cut 'em that much slack, but- "That," said Forister, "is why you keep having politi- cal problems. You never cut the High Families any slack, and they resent it."

"Shouldn't," said Micaya. "I'm one of them."

"That doesn't help," Forister said, almost sadly.

"Anyway, Mic, you're not seriously worried about a ship's mutiny?"

"From those spoiled brats?" Micaya snorted. "Ha!

Even that de Gras boy, for all the others were so scared of him, trotted aboard like a little lamb. No, there's not a one of them has the brains - saving your Blaize, maybe - or the guts to try anything, now that we've cut off their special deals."

"Blaize wouldn't try anything," Forister said sharply.

"He's a good boy."

Micaya patted Forister's arm. "I know, I know. Con- vinced me. But he did rip off PTA, And what's worse to my mind - he didn't speak up about the others. Have 272.

&f Afargaret Ball273.

to answer for that, though it's less, all told, than the rest of this precious crew have to stand trial for."

"I understand," Forister said glumly.

Sev Bryley-Sorenson stretched out his long legs.

"Think I'll work out for a while," he announced to no one in particular.

*Tfou*d think it was him going back for trial, to look at the long face on the boy," Micaya commented as Sev whisked himself down the corridor to the exercise room.

"Can't be much fun," Forister said gently, "being in love with a girl who's likely to be unavailable for the next fifty Standard Years. And he doesn't have much to take his mind off it. He's not the type for tri-chess."

"Not bright enough, you mean. True," said Micaya with a trace of complacency. "And too bright for that silly game the prisoners are playing. Doesn't leave him much, you're right."

"Do you really have to monitor the prisoners all the time, Nancia?" Forister looked at her column with the smile that always melted her best resolutions. "Surely they'll do no damage while they're all wrapped up in that idiotic game. And if you think it's unfair to Micaya for you to partner me ... we could play three- handed?"

Nancia had to concentrate a litde harder for this dis- play, but after a moment of intense processing the holocube shimmered, twisted, danced around its central core and reformed as a holohex, with three separate triple rows of pieces formed at opposing edges.

And in his cabin, Polyon de Gras-Waldheim stopped listening to the conversation in the central cabin and rejoined the s.p.a.cED OUT game that was currently helping his fellow prisoners to forget their troubles.

Persuading Nancia to open the comm system so that the five of diem could play from their cabins had been his first move. Now, at least, he could talk to the otbers.

But he hadn't dared say anything beyond standard game moves while Nancia was conscientiously monitoring them.

The display screen showed that three of the game characters had managed to lose themselves in the Troll Tunnels. Polyon's own game icon was still at the mouth of the tunnels, awaiting a command from him." I know how we can get out of the tunnels," he said.

"How? I've tried every exit the system shows.

They're all blocked," Alpha complained.

"There's a secret key," Polyon told her. "I have it But I can't get to the door it unlocks from here."

"I never heard anything about a secret key," Darnell announced. "I think you're bluffing." His game icon bounced angrily back along one of the Troll Tunnels, spitting sparks as it went.

"You wouldn't," Polyon said smoothly. "I'm the game master. This secret key can even override your character, Fa.s.sa."

Fa.s.sa had taken the Brainship icon for this game.

"I don't see how," Fa.s.sa responded. "Show me?"

"I told you. I can't get to where I can use it. If any of you can get me out of this blind alley, though - "

"You're not in a blind alley!" Darnell interrupted.

"You're standing right at the entrance to the Troll Tun- nels! Why don't you move your icon on into the tunnels?"

"And get lost like the rest of you? No, thanks."