"My sources-" Waltraude said, waving at the chaos of her office. "My book-"

"We'll bring everything," the woman promised. "And you'll have access to Professor Lemon's as well."

Lemon had refused for years to share his copy of a Molly Ivins book Waltraude had never been able to track down through Library Services. He had even reneged on a promise to do so, in exchange for her data cube of thirty years of a rural county newspaper from Oklahoma. Access to Lemon's

material?

"When do we leave?" asked Waltraude.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Sector VII HQ "The admiral wants you," the jig said. Esmay looked up from her lists. What now? She hadn't done anything bad again, surely.

"On my way," she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice. Whatever it was would be made no better by a long face.

In Admiral Hornan's outer office, the clerk nodded at her soberly, and touched a button on the desk. "Go right in, Lieutenant Suiza."

So it was serious, and she still had no idea what was going on. They had chewed all the flavor out of her sins so far; what else was there to attack?

"Lieutenant Suiza reporting, sir." She met Admiral Hornan's eyes squarely.

"At ease, Lieutenant. I'm sorry to say I have sad news for you. We have received a request relayed by ansible from your father for you to take emergency leave . . . your great-grandmother has died."

Esmay felt her knees give a little. The old lady's blessing-had she known? Tears stung her eyes.

"Sit down, Lieutenant." She sat where she was bidden, her mind whirling. "Would you like tea?

Coffee?"

"No . . . thank you, sir. It's-I'll be fine in a moment." She was already fine; a translucent shield protected her from the universe.

"Your father indicates that you and your great-grandmother were close-"

"Yes, sir."

"And says that your presence is urgently needed for both legal and family matters, if you can possibly be spared." The admiral's head tilted. "Under the circumstances, I think you can well be spared. Your presence here is hardly essential." He might as well have said it was grossly unwelcome; Esmay registered that but felt none of the pain she would have felt before. Great- grandmother dead? She had been a constant, even in self-exile, all Esmay's life, all her father's life.

"I-thank you, sir." Her hand crept up to touch the amulet through her uniform.

"I'm curious to know, if you would not mind telling me, what legalities might require a great- grandchild's presence at such a time."

Esmay dragged her mind back to the present conversation; she felt she was wading through glue.

"I'm not entirely sure, sir," she began. "Unless I am my great-grandmother's nearest female relative in the female line . . . and I'd have thought it was my aunt Sanibel."

"I don't follow."

Esmay tried to remember birth years-surely it had to be Sanni, and not herself. But Sanni was younger than her father. "It's the land, sir. The estancia. Land passes in the female line."

"Land . . . how much land?"

How much land? Esmay waved her hands vaguely. "Sir, I'm sorry but I don't know. A lot."

"Ten hectares? A hundred?"

"Oh no-much more than that. The headquarters buildings occupy twenty hectares, and the polo fields are-" She tried to think without counting on her fingers. "Probably a hundred hectares there. Most of the small paddocks up by the house are fifty hectares . . ."

The admiral stared; Esmay did not understand the intensity of that stare. "A small paddock-just

part of this land-is fifty hectares?"

"Yes . . . and the large pastures, for the cattle, are anywhere from one to three thousand hectares."

He shook his head. "All right. A lot of land. Lieutenant-does anyone in Fleet know you are that

rich?"

"Rich?" She wasn't rich. She had never been rich. Her father, Papa Stefan, her great-grandmother .

. . the family as a whole, but not her attenuated twig on the end of the branch.

"You don't consider thousands of hectares a sign of wealth?"

Esmay paused. "I never really thought of it, sir. It's not mine-I mean, it never was, and I'm reasonably sure it's not now. It's the family's."

"My retirement estate," the admiral said, "Is ten hectares."

Esmay could think of nothing to say but "Sorry," and she knew that was wrong.

"So might I conclude," the admiral went on, in a tone of voice that set Esmay's teeth on edge,

"that if you were to . . . choose to pursue family responsibilities, rather than a career in Fleet, you would not be starving in the street somewhere?"

"Sir."

"Not that I'm advising you to do so; I merely find it . . . interesting . . . that the young officer who was capable of telling the Speaker's daughter she was a spoiled rich girl is herself .

. . a rich . . . girl. A very rich girl. Perhaps-for all the reasons you elucidated for Sera Meager's benefit-rich girls are not suited to military careers."

It was as close to an instruction to resign as anyone could come, without saying the words. Esmay met his eyes, bleak misery in her heart. What chance did she have, if senior officers felt this way about her? She wanted to argue, to point out that she had proven her loyalty, her honor-not once, but again and again. But she knew it would do no good.

The admiral looked down at his desk. "Your leave and travel orders have been cut, Lieuteant Suiza.

Be sure to take all the time you need."

"Thank you, sir." She would be polite, no matter what. Rudeness had gotten her nowhere, honesty had come to grief, and so she would be polite to the end.

"Dismissed," he said, without looking up.

The clerk looked up as she came out.

"Bad news, sir?"

"My . . . great-grandmother died. Head of our family." Her throat closed on more, but the clerk's

sympathetic expression looked genuine.

"I'm sorry, sir. I have the leave and travel orders the admiral told me to prepare . . ." The

clerk paused, but Esmay offered no explanation. "You've got a level two priority, and I took the liberty of putting your name on a berth for the fastest transit I could find."

"Thank you," Esmay said. "That's very kind-"

"You're quite welcome, sir; just sorry it's for a sad occasion. I notice your end-of-leave is