Stromo blew out a long breath through his heavy lips. "So you're claiming that the Earth Defense Forces did this? That our own battleships opened fire and obliterated a legitimate Hansa colony?"

The technician bit her lower lip and answered slowly and cautiously, "What I said, sir, is that these scars are from jazer blasts and that some of the explosives bear identical signatures to the chemicals our military uses. I wouldn't presume to draw any further conclusions than that."

Scowling, Stromo walked away and let the technician continue her work. He queried two other specialists and received similarly damning answers. Whoever had attacked Corribus had either done an excellent job of mimicking chemical signatures to implicate the EDF, or they simply didn't care who learned what had happened here. He shook his head. How could this be?

General Lanyan had received reports from all ten grid admirals. The girl Orli Covitz insisted that a Juggernaut and five Mantas were the culprits, but all the battle groups were accounted for.

"How in the world do you misplace giant EDF warships?" he said aloud.

Were the Ildirans building exact copies and attacking human colonies? That made no sense at all. Had someone retrieved damaged battleships floating in the rings of Osquivel after the hydrogue battle? Five Mantas and one Juggernaut. Something about that grouping nagged at the back of his mind.

Five Mantas and a Juggernaut...

He drew a quick breath as the answer clicked into place. That was the complement of ships sent on a recon mission to the gas giant Golgen a year ago. It had been a test flight to demonstrate how well the Soldier compies could operate EDF vessels under the guidance of only a handful of token human officers. Those five Mantas and one Juggernaut had vanished without a trace.

Though no wreckage was ever found, the EDF had assumed those vessels were destroyed by hydrogues. Stromo paused in his pacing. Some enemy could have captured those ships and turned them against a human colony!

A great weight pressed on his chest. Stromo raised his voice to a shout. "Hurry up and collect what you need! We've got to get out of here as soon as possible so I can make my report to General Lanyan."

Chapter 67-PRINCE DANIEL.

Following the Chairman's specific instructions, OX proved to be a harsh taskmaster. Previously, Daniel had resented the Teacher compy with his endless recollections, his personal stories about long-dead people, his centuries' worth of boring experiences. Now he actively hated the little machine.

Daniel's body amazed him with how sore it was able to feel-arms, legs, stomach, back, muscles he hadn't known existed. He had never exercised so much in his life, and OX showed no sympathy at all. How could a compy even begin to understand what muscle pains felt like?

Though the draconian new regime had not been in effect long, Daniel knew he would die if he had to keep it up. The demands on him were utterly unreasonable. OX made him sit with perfect posture, and he was no longer allowed to relax, much less slouch. He was required to take care of his personal appearance-as if anybody could see him here in the torture chambers of the Whisper Palace.

OX calculated a specific caloric intake and designed meals that forced the Prince to lose weight. The guards brought plates that contained disappointingly small portions of disgusting healthy foods. If the Prince did not exhibit what OX deemed to be an appropriate level of respect and gratitude when they arrived, the Teacher compy thanked the guards and sent them back to the kitchens with the uneaten meal. Why in the world did a Prince Prince have to be polite? Everyone else was supposed to be polite to him, not the other way around! Daniel's stomach growled constantly. He had never been so hungry, and he longed for the taste of a dessert, even a tiny piece of candy. have to be polite? Everyone else was supposed to be polite to him, not the other way around! Daniel's stomach growled constantly. He had never been so hungry, and he longed for the taste of a dessert, even a tiny piece of candy.

Despite his exhaustion, he could barely sleep. Princes were supposed to be pampered! He was so angry about all the recent changes that he couldn't concentrate on his studies. Each time his mind wandered, however, the Teacher compy made him stand for the remainder of the lesson and summarize each point as it was taught.

Thus, picturing a bleak future that would be endless and intolerable, he decided to revolt. He had to show Chairman Wenceslas that this was simply not acceptable. He was the Prince: No one could treat him this way. Between lessons, Daniel began to form his own plan.

Even though the Chairman was not likely to let him appear in public, tailors and fashion masters had measured and fitted him for gaudy clothes in styles that were adjustable to allow for his anticipated weight loss. They made him colorful robes, billowy shirts of slick fabric, heavy jewelry, fur-lined boots. But for his daily lessons, the outfit he was given to wear was serviceable and nondescript; he hoped it would be good enough for his plan. Who would ever expect a Prince to dress like that?

One evening, after the guards brought his meager dinner, accepted his lukewarm thanks, and left him unattended with OX, Daniel took action. The Teacher compy had just started to drone about institutional changes former Chairman Maureen Fitzpatrick had mandated during her administration, adding his own memories of times he had spent with the old woman in Hansa HQ. Knowing he had only a few moments, the Prince astonished OX by rushing him, grabbing the small robot, and herding him backward into his closet. Daniel sealed the Teacher compy inside, with the clothes and clutter the young man had picked up from around his room, and wedged the lock in place. The simple analog deadbolt was not electronically operated, and the rebellious Prince realized the compy would be able to break out before long.

OX amplified his voice from behind the door. "Prince Daniel, let me out. This behavior is unacceptable. The Chairman will not be pleased."

Daniel opened the chamber door, saw that the hall was momentarily clear. The muted colors of his clothing-mushroom shirt, soft brown pants, plain shoes-would attract no attention. He had no identification, money, or weapons. But he could run. He would figure the rest out if the need arose.

The corridors were lit with artificial illumination. In spite of his sore muscles, Daniel scuttled down the hall. He didn't know where he was and had no blueprint of the Whisper Palace, so he simply fled in one direction, took a turn into another hall, and found a flight of steps that led upward. He must be underground, since any high room would have windows or views. If he found the ground level, there had to be a door that would lead him into the courtyard and the gardens.

Every time he heard people moving or talking up ahead, Daniel chose a different route. Within minutes he was completely lost and could never have found his way back to his secret chambers...not that he wanted to.

He opened a doorway marked with an Exit symbol and found a new set of stairs. Halfway up the staircase, breathless from running, he heard people coming down toward him. He froze, wondering where he could go.

Instead of guards, he saw three cleaners wearing staff uniforms. Daniel didn't know what he should say, but the workers, deep in conversation, barely glanced at him. At the landing above him, they opened a door and disappeared into the Palace. Before the door closed behind them, Daniel grabbed it.

He walked out into a main level of the Whisper Palace. Until now, he had resented that King Peter's "benevolent visage" was everywhere. But now he was glad that his own face was relatively unknown, even though he was a Prince. He could slip in among the staff unnoticed; the Whisper Palace must have thousands of people working there every day. Since he appeared young, he held himself tall and tried to look as if he knew what he was doing.

Eventually he made his way to a set of nondescript corridors and supply rooms where cleaners, gardeners, cooks, and support staff had offices and communal break and lunch rooms. In a small kitchenette, he was thrilled to discover someone's packed lunch waiting in a refrigeration cabinet. He decided he was entitled to it. He was the Prince, after all, and his stomach growled for decent food after two days of near starvation.

The packaged meats and sliced fruits were mixed with strange spices, some sort of unfamiliar offworld cuisine no doubt, but Daniel didn't have much choice. He ate, furtively glancing around, jumping every time someone walked past the kitchenette. At any minute, he was sure loud alarms would ring out. As soon as the guards discovered OX in his closet, they would order a full lockdown of the Whisper Palace. He had to get out as soon as possible.

Crowds moved constantly through the halls. When the bustle and background noise increased, Daniel assumed it was a shift change. He casually fit in with the tired-looking personnel filing through the corridors, and soon emerged onto a broad terrace in the open air. OX hadn't let him go outside for more than a year, and he was astonished by the sight of the sky.

But he couldn't stand there like a fool gazing at the colorful tourist zeppelins drifting over the Royal Canal. He hurried down the wide, shallow stairway from the terrace and mingled with people as they spread out. With one glance over his shoulder, Daniel raced into the great plaza. Finally, he allowed himself a smug smile as he imagined the uproar his escape would cause.

Chapter 68-RLINDA KETT.

When Rlinda learned about BeBob's arrest, she flew the Curiosity Curiosity to the EDF Moon base, prepared to spring her favorite ex-husband from the brig herself. He had been arrested only yesterday, and already General Lanyan had scheduled a preliminary hearing. That couldn't mean anything but bad news. to the EDF Moon base, prepared to spring her favorite ex-husband from the brig herself. He had been arrested only yesterday, and already General Lanyan had scheduled a preliminary hearing. That couldn't mean anything but bad news.

She landed on the crater pad without permission, and a flurry of EDF guards rushed to the landing area to intercept her. "You have no authorization to be here, ma'am. Leave immediately, or your ship will be impounded."

From the ramp of her ship she gave them her best you-can't-be-serious look-a mixture of incredulity, amusement, and defiance. "Bullshit. Branson Roberts is one of my pilots, and no NPTT is going to stop me from seeing him."

The EDF guards looked at each other. "NPTT, ma'am? We're not familiar with that acronym."

"NPTT is what you you are- are-Not Paid to Think." She put her hands on her ample hips. "Now, are you going to escort me to Captain Roberts, or do I have to wander around the base looking for him?"

The guards stood firm. "The prisoner is being held on charges of desertion. He has no visiting privileges."

"We'll just see about that."

And she did. Rlinda made a complete nuisance of herself for six hours, intimidating guards, barging into offices, stalking through hallways, interrupting meetings, sending insistent transmissions to everyone she could think of who might help, refusing to leave. General Lanyan would not see her. She couldn't reach Davlin Lotze, who had vanished on some mysterious errand after making sure that the Crenna refugees had temporary quarters on the fringe of the Palace District.

When Rlinda finally made contact with Chairman Wenceslas and demanded that he do something, his response was curt and cold. "Before you introduced Captain Roberts into the business, I clearly delineated my position on this matter. I warned you I would not help. General Lanyan has been anxious to capture a scapegoat for years now, and Roberts had the bad luck-or the stupidity-to deliver himself right into the EDF's jaws."

"How about setting a few priorities here, Mr. Chairman? Captain Roberts helped Davlin and me save all those colonists from Crenna. And he rescued the girl and that old man stranded in the ruins, didn't he? On top of that, he risked his butt to bring you urgent news you couldn't have gotten any other way. That has to count for something." She glared at the screen, but the Chairman's expression did not change.

"He is is charged with desertion, Captain Kett. The General is quite strict in his interpretation of the regulations, I'm afraid, and extenuating circumstances won't change the facts. Within two days Captain Roberts is due to face a preliminary military tribunal to determine his sentence." charged with desertion, Captain Kett. The General is quite strict in his interpretation of the regulations, I'm afraid, and extenuating circumstances won't change the facts. Within two days Captain Roberts is due to face a preliminary military tribunal to determine his sentence."

"Sentence? How about determining his guilt or innocence first?"

"This is an EDF matter, Ms. Kett. I will not interfere with the processes of military justice."

Rlinda was not above begging at this point. "Then at least let me see him. Please?"

The Chairman frowned, considering. "Very well, but that's the best I can do. At the moment, other emergencies demand my attention."

Grumbling guards escorted her through the tunnels of gray rock deep into the EDF's brig level. Rlinda did not feel very smug about her small victory.

BeBob looked forlorn and tired inside his cell. He glanced at her, unable to believe his eyes. "Rlinda!" He surged to his feet as a guard opened the cell door.

The soldiers drew their twitchers, as if they thought he was about to attack them, but Rlinda enfolded him in a bearish hug. "I always knew your heart was bigger than your brain, BeBob. You walked right into a trap."

He shrugged, his hangdog face showing a real smile for what must have been the first time in a while. "And what was I supposed to do, Rlinda? Did you see that girl's eyes?"

"You didn't need to make such a spectacle of yourself. You could have dropped off the two refugees at any Hansa planet, left an anonymous report."

His eyes flashed with a burst of impatient anger that burned through his misery. "If somebody's attacking our new colonies, I had to sound the alarm! What if poor Orli thought she was safe on a new planet, and those battleships came again-" Before he could splutter any further protests, she kissed him. He quickly stopped complaining.

When they separated from their embrace, Rlinda saw that the guards had sealed the cell door and left her alone with him. She hadn't even heard the door close.

BeBob sank back onto his cot, rested his elbows on his knees. "I've faced worse than this. In fact, General Lanyan himself gave me a bunch of assignments that were virtually suicide missions. I had narrow misses with hydrogues. I survived the Orange Spot plague on Crenna. I just landed in a massacred colony and rescued an old man and a girl. I can handle cooling my heels in a little room. Right now boredom seems to be my greatest enemy."

Rlinda's nostrils flared. "In a fair universe, all those things you did should count for something. Hell, for the past half year you've been delivering supplies to Hansa colonies and helping the Klikiss transportal expansion initiative. But General Lanyan won't cut you any slack. Maybe there's some other way we can talk them into leniency."

BeBob looked up at her with a wan smile. "Rlinda, you always said I I was the one with a bubblehead. Don't you see what's going on here?" was the one with a bubblehead. Don't you see what's going on here?"

She sat beside him, crowding the cot. The mattress supports creaked. "Just trying to keep your spirits up. What's wrong with a little optimism?"

Roberts scratched his smoky frizz of hair. "They've already scheduled a military tribunal for me two days from now, preliminary to an official court-martial. If they find me guilty of desertion, you know Lanyan will want to make an example out of me just the way he did with Rand Sorengaard."

"You were an EDF scout pilot, not a Roamer pirate." Rlinda did not have the heart to mention that the tribunal already seemed to be operating on an assumption of BeBob's guilt.

"And? I'm sure the General thinks that's even worse."

"Terrific. What do we do to celebrate, get a lawyer?"

"They've assigned me a military-issue advocate, with all the confidence that inspires. He hasn't even talked to me yet."

"Doesn't sound promising." Racking her brain for a solution, Rlinda hurried to reassure him as best she could. "I've made a few calls, BeBob. I'm pulling in all my favors."

"Good luck. Who have you contacted?"

"Well, first I spoke with the Hansa Chairman."

BeBob made a rude noise and leaned his head against the wall. "He won't do anything."

Rlinda sighed. "No. He got me in here to see you and then washed his hands of this whole mess. But that was just one of my options. I've got feeler messages out everywhere I could think of. You'd be surprised at the number of people who owe me one. I'm even trying to reach Ambassador Sarein, my friend from Theroc, remember? And Davlin, if I can find him. He may still be on Earth, but I haven't managed to track him down."

"Lotze? What can he do for us now?"

"Hey, I'm still at Step One of the plan here. Don't rush it."

"I have to rush it, Rlinda. There's not much time left."

Chapter 69-DENN PERONI.

After leaving Yreka and flying into Ildiran space with the rest of their cargo, Denn and Caleb could see that one of Ildira's seven suns was dying. The battling hydrogues and faeros had nearly extinguished it.

"Shizz, would you look at that!" Denn reached over to nudge his companion's bony shoulder.

Caleb Tamblyn scratched at some whisker stubble on his thin neck. "If they're on the edge of a battle zone, I doubt they'll be in any mood to buy trinkets from us."

Denn shook his head. "Not trinkets-necessities. If they're getting hit hard by the hydrogues, then they'll be desperate for vital raw materials like metals, and especially any ekti. Once we learn what the Ildirans need, we can figure out the best suppliers."

Before the hydrogue war, clan traders had regularly delivered stardrive fuel to the Ildiran Empire, but after the hydrogue ultimatum, the few drops of remaining ekti had been reserved for the Earth Defense Forces. Until now. With those agreements nullified, the Ildiran Empire should be an open Roamer market again.

"My clan's in the water business," Caleb said dourly. "It's not likely they need much of that from us."

"Just keep an open mind," Denn said.

For his own part, Denn wished he hadn't loaded so much worldtree wood. The Yrekans had taken part of it, but Denn doubted such an exotic novelty item would be of any use to the Ildiran Empire, especially now.

When ornate Solar Navy warliners converged around the incoming Roamer trade ship, Denn requested safe passage. "Roamers and Ildirans were business partners for almost two centuries, delivering stardrive fuel and other commodities to the Mage-Imperator. We wish to renew that partnership."

"If we can reach equitable terms of commerce," Caleb added. we can reach equitable terms of commerce," Caleb added.

Seven of the flamboyant warships hovered in space around the Dogged Persistence. Dogged Persistence. Denn and Caleb stared through the windowports at the finlike solar sails, the sparkling anodized hulls, and streaming antennas that extended like whiskers in all directions. "If I wasn't so optimistic, I'd be intimidated right now," Denn muttered. "What's taking so long for them to answer?" Denn and Caleb stared through the windowports at the finlike solar sails, the sparkling anodized hulls, and streaming antennas that extended like whiskers in all directions. "If I wasn't so optimistic, I'd be intimidated right now," Denn muttered. "What's taking so long for them to answer?"

"I'd be more concerned if those were Eddy Eddy ships out there. Ildirans might be weird, but it takes a human to do really malicious things." ships out there. Ildirans might be weird, but it takes a human to do really malicious things."

"We will escort you to the Mijistra spaceport," came a gruff, clipped voice from the lead warliner. "Please follow."

The warliners guided the Persistence Persistence on an approved path down to the sparkling alien city. As they approached under the brilliant sunlight, the curved, polished surfaces threw off flared reflections like beacons. Ricochets of sunshine filled the atmosphere with a firestorm of illumination. on an approved path down to the sparkling alien city. As they approached under the brilliant sunlight, the curved, polished surfaces threw off flared reflections like beacons. Ricochets of sunshine filled the atmosphere with a firestorm of illumination.

"We'll need filter goggles out there." Caleb rummaged through the cockpit storage compartments until he found two sets of protective lenses. "I've never been good with really bright lights-never had that problem on Plumas."