"Charisse sent Chuck to do that? How could-"

"Only part of it, love." Nora squeezed his hand. "The threat part was Chuck's idea. He'd heard her muttering about arranging an assassination, and it disturbed him-"

"No surprise there!"

"-so he decided to head off the possibility by pre-empting Charisse with a threat of his own." Nora's expression became pained. "I don't doubt for a moment that he meant it."

She picked up her mug and fell silent. Barton started to speak, but bit it back.

Rothbard, Rand, and Ringer. I unknowingly summoned my father here to comfort a man who threatened his life?

Did Althea or Martin know about any of that?

But it worked. Dad settled down almost at once. He's been the soul of courtesy and the best possible neighbor ever since. Both clans are better off for it, Clan Kramnik even more so than Clan Morelon. He and I took a while to mend fences, but that was to be expected.

The longer I live, the more certain I am that I don't know a thousandth of what I ought to know. What I need to know.

"Nora?"

"Yes, love?"

"I wish you'd told me."

She smirked sideways at him. "Would it have changed one single thing you've decided or done today? Or anything you've done since you joined the clan?"

He thought it over. Presently he shook his head. She smiled.

"I didn't think so either. So why should I have burdened you with it?"

He sighed explosively. "All right, so it wouldn't have made a difference. Mightn't have. I'd still have wanted to know. Maybe I'd have-"

"Maybe you'd have what, love? Lain awake all night wondering if you'd ever see your father again?"

"All right," he growled. Nora tittered. "Is there anything else you haven't told me that I might want to know about? You know, trivia like the deka going off the silver standard, an invasion from space, or the impending end of the world?"

"Well," Nora said mock-judiciously, "there is one little tidbit I was thinking of sharing with you."

"Yes?"

She smiled widely and took his hands again.

"I'm pregnant."

Chapter 26: November 18, 1317 A.H.

"We launch tomorrow."

Althea started in surprise. "What do you mean 'we,' love?"

"I'll have a few guests along. I've had pressure suits made for all of them and taught them how to wear them. They're anxious to see what we've accomplished." Martin chuckled. "I have to admit, I did give them a teaser or two. Is everything still checking out?"

"Yes. I've turned up the power as high as possible with the lash-up we have. The results are consistent with my equations and our earlier tests. All the dots are still on the curve." She released the push-to-talk for an instant, then depressed it again. "Martin? Are you sure you're...ready to return?"

There was a brief silence.

"I've done what I can, Al. No one can heal him single-handed. He needs time and love."

"And Charisse?"

"Well, that would be nice, but-"

"No, I meant has anyone in the clan seen or heard from her since he ran into her?"

"No. Whatever she's doing, she's doing in private."

"That worries me."

"You're not the only one. Not much to be done about it, though. I'll see you about this time tomorrow."

"Okay," Althea said. "Just warn your passengers about the acceleration. And watch your power levels as you launch. Remember: six percent to take off, nine percent until you're out of atmos, then you can push the throttle all the way in."

"Teach Granny to suck eggs."

Althea grinned. "I would if either of them were still around. Martin?" she said, her voice dropping to the floor of her range. "I miss you."

"Mega-ditto, space babe. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Althea watched with her fists against her hips as the pregnant-wasp shape of Freedom's Horizon approached the Relic and rotated to dock. As much work as she and Martin had put into assuring themselves of the reliability of the planetoid's docking mechanisms, she'd never entirely trusted them. The ground-to-orbit spacecraft was at maximum danger when it moored itself to the ancient planetoid. Should it be crippled or destroyed, she'd be marooned on the Relic to the end of her days.

I really have to dial down the worrying. Martin's as good a pilot as I am. Considering how dangerous this is, he'd better be.

Not much hope that the verdict will be good, though. Four hundred million dekas is one hell of a lot of Morelon clan faith and commitment.

The impact as Freedom's Horizon's docking grapples locked onto the planetoid sent a vibration through the soles of her boots. The plumes from the spaceplane's retrojets swiftly shrank to nothing as its approach sensors retracted into its hull. When the cockpit lights went out, Althea allowed herself a last glance at the blue-green sphere of Hope eleven thousand miles below her, fought down a pang of homesickness, and made for the sally port to the pressurized tunnels within the planetoid.

When she reached her labs, she found that Martin had brought five of their kindred: Patrice Morelon, the clan's comptroller; Teodor Chistyakowski, Hope's foremost genetic engineer; Valerie Morelon and Cameron MacLachlan, Althea's parents; and clan head Barton Kramnik Morelon, the first of all its patriarchs to have married into the clan rather than being a natural born member.

Doesn't look like a funeral procession. Well, we'll just have to see.

Althea hung her helmet on an unoccupied hook and embraced each of her guests in turn. Her welcomes were returned with affection. Finally she swept Martin into her arms and hugged him fiercely, though their vacuum suits made it awkward.

"Watching from outside?" Teodor said.

Althea nodded. "I couldn't resist. It's too beautiful a sight to pass up." She grinned. "Like you guys."

"Three years, Al," Patrice said.

Spooner's beard, you can practically see deka signs rolling in her eyes.

"I know. Hope you brought me some clean underwear."

A chuckle swept over the visitors. Althea caught her husband's eye and sent him an inquiring look. He nodded.

"Look, this is a chancy place. Watch your step. Try not to brush against the walls. I might not have gotten all the sharp protrusions filed down. But I have a lot to show you, and I can't do that here."

Althea turned and sauntered slowly down the corridor. Martin led the visitors into the depths of the orbital workshop, cautioning them to move deliberately and carefully in the Relic's microgravity, lest they thrust themselves into flight with an unwittingly forceful step.

"So what did Martin haul us up here to show us?" Patrice said as they settled into seats in her sleeping area.

"Actually, the showing comes a wee bit later," Althea said. "First, a lot of telling." She leaned against the lumpy nickel-iron wall and waved a hand mock-casually. "We think we've cracked it."

No one spoke, or grunted, or even breathed audibly, yet the spike of surprise that passed through the visitors was impossible to miss.

"You...think," Teodor said.

Althea nodded. "The experimental results from our test crystal are consistent with a fifteen percent increase in the speed of light." She grinned again. "That's fifteen percent over the speed of light in a vacuum."

A gasp circled the group.

"What can you do with that?" Teodor asked.

"With that alone? Not much. But that's just from the power we have from one eighteen-century-old fission reactor that spends most of its juice keeping us alive up here. If my equations are sound, with a terawatt of power I can get raw space to accept passage at approximately Michelson eighty. Give me a terawatt more, and I can drag a fifty-ton mass up to that speed in about two months." She pulled a mock innocent face. "Hope to Earth in four months or a little better. That fast enough for you?"

She swept her eyes over the stunned guests.

"Rothbard, Rand, and Ringer," Valerie breathed. "You actually did it."

Althea nodded. "We think so, Mom."

"Wait a moment," her mother said. "What about reaction mass?"

"Don't need it."

"How, then?"

"Basically, the same technique that allows me to increase the speed of light," Althea said. "Alteration of the permittivity constant, applied differentially-a front-to-back gradient-over an ovoid volume enclosing the mass to be propelled. A properly distributed effusion of gamma rays and W-plus bosons is all it takes to get the process started. Put a negative charge on the outer surface of the vessel, and you're off. That gives you a reactionless drive and the next best thing to perpetual motion. Only works in a hard vacuum, though, so don't expect to use it for anything groundside."

The genesmith appeared near to apoplexy. "You altered a fundamental constant of physics?"

Althea nodded again. "Should I have asked permission first?" She grinned. "I had to, Granduncle. The only way to breach what we call the lightspeed barrier is to alter the conditions that determine lightspeed. The only way to do that is to increase the permittivity of the vacuum. And the only possibility of doing that lay in Althea's Axiom."

"Which is?"

"Constants...aren't."

She pointed them toward a narrow, artfully concealed tunnel that led deep into the planetoid.

"But you haven't heard the good news yet."

The fusion demonstration rig was simpler than Althea's guests could believe.

"You really mean," Teodor said, "to induce a fusion reaction in that?"

Althea nodded. "A little one. You'll have to take our word for a few things, though." She pointed at the electronically encrusted stopcock on the polycarbonate chamber. "Martin worked long and hard on that thing. It counts hydrogen atoms. When pulsed, it allows exactly one million atoms to pass into the chamber. I've succeeded in creating fusions that small, but for demo purposes I've admitted about two hundred million. Half a second while we power up the pinch field."

She nodded to Martin, who stepped over to a bank of switches and flipped two of them. A high whine filled the tunnel as the electromagnets dotted around the fusion bubble powered up. When the whine had stabilized, he wheeled a mechanism that looked like a trolley-mounted Tesla snout toward the bubble. He used markers painted onto the walls and floor of the tunnel to point it at the exact center of the enclosed space.

"Keep your eyes on the bubble, folks." Martin pressed a third switch.

Immediately the center of the bubble flared with an actinic flash. A burst of gentle heat, just enough to be felt through clothing, pervaded the tunnel and swiftly dissipated.

"Type two stellar fusion. It's a two-stage process. First, hydrogen to deuterium, then deuterium to helium." Althea giggled. "Leaves a very useful surplus of unbound electrons," she said. "We can't put it to use with the facilities we've got. That would take more engineering, and a hell of a lot more equipment. But we can make it happen, without the need for a prior fission reaction or a bank of lasers to cause ignition. The rest," she said, "is up to you."

A long silence filled the tunnel.

"Then we don't need U-235 fission for the power plants anymore," Teodor breathed.

Martin grinned and patted the strange-looking projector. "One of these devices is all it takes."

"And those require...?" Teodor said.

He grinned. "A few grams of indium perthallate, some charge drivers hooked to properly matched and calibrated klystrons, and a dab of Al's special sauce."

"Bart," Patrice said unsteadily, "shall we go back down to Hope and start licensing this technology at once, or would you prefer to have lunch first?"

Althea held up a hand. "Whoa, hang on a minute there, Pat," she said. "We have to discuss the fee."

"Four hundred million dekas," Bart murmured. Softly, just in case speaking too loudly might make it real. Patrice looked as if she were on the verge of a heart attack.

Althea nodded. "Conservatively. It could come to less. But we won't need it all at once. The first thing we'll need is labor. Lots of it. We're not about to build an interstellar vessel all by ourselves."

"But you're planning to design it all by yourselves," Teodor said.

"Yes, we are," she said. She reached for Martin's hand. "Do you know someone better qualified, Granduncle?"