We will keep you as safe as possible, but-" But . . . if the rioters knew where the nukes were, if they could trigger them, there was no safety. "-If you know anything of outland weapons, where they are hidden, it would help."

"I know somethin'." That was a boy, perhaps thirteen, now waving his arm.

"What?" he asked.

"Daddy gave Uncle Jed his key, an' told him right afore he left to go hunt down that runaway

girlie."

Key. That would be an arming key. Barin's stomach curled into a tight cold knot.

"And where's your uncle Jed, do you think?"

"On the floor in there-" Prima waved toward a door across the hall. "I couldn't think what to do,

so I left him-"

"Check it," Barin said to the guards. One of them went in, shutting the door behind him on the smell of death that had puffed out into the hall.

"Looks like an arming key, on a chain around his neck. In the pockets-another key, different-looks

like he has the primary for one system, and the secondary for another."

But how many systems were there, and how many men held the keys, and did they know in what order to use them? He could not count on the other Rangers' wives to poleax their husbands' relatives.

"We have two arming keys," Barin reported to the major. "From Ranger Bowie's brother. I expect

each Ranger had one or more keys and left them with a successor."

"How many troops do you have with you?"

"Only the four, as escort."

"Damn. We need to get those keys out of those houses, before we all form a pretty fireworks

display. These guys are insane-you should see how they're acting out here."

Barin could hear, in the distance, noises like those on a live-fire range.

Esmay Suiza, back on the bridge of Shrike where she belonged, discovered that everyone aboard-including Captain Solis, who had given up the last of his doubts about her intentions-was treating her with excessive care. All the special crew borrowed from Navarino had gone back to their ship-Meharry, she knew, would not have treated her as if she were delicate crystal, just because she'd had a spell of hypoxia. She felt quite fit for regular duty, more than willing to go back to work rather than sit by Brun's side as she dozed in regen. If she could have been on Gyrfalcon, with Barin, that might've been different, but soon enough they'd be back at some base, where they could finish what they'd started.

"I'm fine," she said, to the third offer of a chance to take a break. "It's my watch-" She caught the edge of a significant glance from Solis to Chief Barlow on communications. "What? Am I making mistakes?"

"No, Lieutenant, you're doing fine. It's just that there have been . . . developments."

Something cold crawled through her chest, down toward her toes. "Developments?"

"Yes . . . while you were offwatch, the landing party went down to retrieve those children . . ."

"What's wrong?"

"There've been . . . complications. And-Admiral Serrano's grandson is down there."

Barin was down there? "Why?" came out in an accusatory tone she had not meant to use to her captain. "I mean," she said, trying to recover, "I didn't think an ensign would be chosen for such a team."

"He wasn't, originally. But he's there now, and since you and he-well, so I understand-"

"Yes," Esmay said firmly. Whatever else might be secret, that wasn't any longer.

"He's managed to get himself into a right mess, and we're supposed to help him out, but I do not think you should be on the team. You've already had your stint at suited combat-"

"I'm fine," Esmay said. "I am perfectly recovered, passed by medical, one hundred and ten percent.

It is of course the captain's choice-"

Solis snorted. "Don't start that again. One time for each trick. Besides, he had to chew his nails over your exploits on the station; it's only fair for you to reciprocate."

"War isn't about fair," Esmay muttered. To her surprise, that got a flashing smile.

"You're right there, Suiza, and if I decide your talents are needed, be sure I'll send you. If you can assure me that being in love with the Admiral's grandson won't warp your judgement or affect your performance."

"I'm not in love with the Admiral's grandson," Esmay said. "I'm in love with Barin. Sir."

Another look between captain and chief; she felt her ears heating.

"Wonderful," Solis said, in a tone that could be taken in several ways.

The crackle of gunfire was nearer, as was the crump and crash of Fleet light-duty guns. Barin felt he should be doing something with his menagerie, but he couldn't figure out what. If he took them out in the street to head for the port, they could be shot; if he kept them here, they were a grand target.

"Serrano-taxi's here, room for fifteen."

That simplified things slightly. "Sera Takeris, Professor-take the Elias Madero children, the babies, and-let's see-" Room for fifteen adults . . . make that two adults, four small children, and-surely he could cram in ten babies. No, another adult and ten babies. "Prima, bring eight more babies, if you have them, and a reliable woman to care for them."

That turned out to be a gray-haired woman as wrinkled as dried fruit; in less than three minutes he had ten babies, the four little children, and the adults all out the door and into the first ground transport vehicle. It clanked off noisily. Barin looked up the street, to the flower-decked park at the end of it. In the middle, a great stone star-shape. The points of the star were blunted, he noted, and seemed to have bronze plaques set on them.

Suddenly as he watched a door opened across the street, and a woman scampered toward him, eyes on the ground. When she neared him she stopped short. Behind him, Prima cried out, and the woman dashed on, brushed past him, and began chattering to Prima as fast as she could.

"An' Travis's little brother, he tooken this key and he putted it into this thing, this box thing, and then Travis's Prima she whapped him with her skillet, that she was carryin' from the kitchen all full of hot grease and fried chicken, an' that box was buzzin' and buzzin' and she said come quick tell you 'cause one-a her outland mutes she wrote BAD, BAD, BAD, GET HELP QUICK in the grease."

Prima looked over her head at Barin. "It's a bomb," he said, hoping she had that much knowledge.

"The keys turn it on-"

"Like a light?" she asked. "A . . . switch?"

"Yes. If they're the bombs taken from us, it takes at least two keys to arm them . . ." But if

they'd been stolen elsewhere, he didn't know. "So no one can do it by accident," he said. "The keys have to be used in the right order."

"Where are the keys?" Prima asked the woman.

"I dunno, ma'am, she only tol' me to come tell you 'cause you'd sent word we's to get out and Ranger Travis's brother he said no, and we was all whores of Satan and deserved to die anyway."

"I'll send-" Barin said, but Prima held up her hand.

"They won't trust you; they might trust my women. You want to be sure no one uses both keys?"

"Any keys, if we're not too late."

Prima despatched another cluster of women, who followed the first back across the street. The next armored transport arrived. One baby left, then half a dozen toddlers, and women to care for them, crammed into that one. He noticed that Prima had no hesitation about which to choose, and those waiting their turn made no attempt to crowd or protest. One more would make a shuttle load-the shuttle they'd come in on.

Two sets of keys he was sure-almost sure-hadn't been used. At least three more, and he would be lucky if that was all . . .

An explosion, up the street, and a gust of acrid smoke blew past, followed by the rattle of something hard on the house walls and the street. Before he could dare a cautious look, he heard the major in his earpiece.