'What was the process we were watching?"

Karlstrom took him into the projection room and provided him with a succinct explanation of how film images were captured and displayed on the big screen.

'That's why they're called movies."

'Sounds kinda primitive .... ' 'It is,' said Karlstrom. 'But it's also part of our heritage.

You've only seen one, but we've got dozens of these movies. They are stories about heroism and self-sacrifice.

They express a set of values which have guided the First Family from the very beginning. They are the source of our inspiration. They represent what the Federation stands for, the kind of America we are going to rebuild when we have conquered the blue-sky world."

Well it was certainly more watchable than the guff they pumped out on the nine video channels. 'If that's so, sir, why keep them to yourselves? If they're as valuable as you suggest, wouldn't it boost everyone's morale if they were shown nationwide?"

Karlstrom responded with a mocking smile. 'That's just the kind of question I've come to expect from you. Let's just say that they will be shown one day, but not yet." He led Steve out of the projection room and back upstairs. 'What did you think of John Wayne?"

'uhh, yes... I saw the name. Is that the same man whose ' Yes. John Wayne Plaza. When you see more of his work and realise what he represents, you'll understand why." Karlstrom paused. 'What's bugging you now?"

'They called him Davy Crockett... was that his code-name?"

Karlstrom propelled him in a friendly fashion towards the liveried Mute manservant waiting by the huge front door. 'Forget it, Brickman. Just go home and go to bed!" January the 15th turned out to be another day to remember. Forced to study late into the night to catch up with his course-work Steve was unable to get over to the Life Inst.i.tute to see Clearwater for three days in a row. On each occasion he had sent three video-grams through to the LTC Admin Office asking them to pa.s.s his apologies to the occupant of Room 18 together with the promise to be there without fail on the 15th - the day when Sand-Wolf would be one month old.

He pa.s.sed his new up-rated ID card through the monitor on the reception desk, waited while the relevant details were flashed onto the screen, then got the nod from the duty clerk and was through the turnstile in a matter of seconds. The guy hadn't even bothered to read the data. If you had a valid ID and a silver-grey uniform formalities were kept to a minimum. You could bypa.s.s any line-ups at security barriers and, best of all, the truncheon-wielding Provos all became fawning brown-nosers.

b.a.s.t.a.r.ds...

Steve followed the now-familiar route down the sterile pale green corridors, rappa-tap-tapped on the door to Room 18 and entered. The room was empty. The bed had been stripped, the cot had disappeared along with the vases of flowers. A plastic cover had been placed over the medical computer terminal. The air was scented with the smell of antiseptic cleaning fluid.

He went back outside and checked the number on the door. No mistake there - what the h.e.l.l was happening? 'Simple. She'd been moved somewhere else during the last three days. He stopped a pa.s.sing nurse.

'Room 18. There was a mother and child in there. Can you tell me where they've been moved to?"

'uhh, I'm not sure. I think they been discharged, sir."

Steve's stomach turned over. 'Discharged?! Where to?!" 'No idea, sir - but the Chief Nursing Officer should have the details. If you go to the end of this corridor and -, 'Yehh, I know where it is.

Thanks."

To avoid the confusion of inserting alien Plainfolk names into the computer, Clearwater had been logged into the Life Inst.i.tute as Brickman C.W. The given name had not been spelt out; the W stood for Washington- the divisional name for those born in Houston/GC.

The Chief Nursing Officer was not there when Steve arrived, but one of his admin staff obligingly screened the nursing records. 'Here we are ... 9616 Brickman C.W. and 0987 Brickman S.W. Discharged from LTC, 1200 hours, 12 January 299 -' 'Jezusss! Three days ago? Where were they logged out to?"

The staffer studied the screen then tapped some more keys and studied the result. 'Strange... No destination has been entered."

'That's crazy,' said Steve. 'Let's get this straight. I'm enquiring about a 19-year-old woman and a newborn child. Those are the records you're looking at?"

'Yes. Brickman S.W - born 1627 hours, 15 December, 2991." The staffer tapped a few more keys. 'I'll just check through the B file on either side in case there's a double entry. If someone types in the initials back to front, the computer thinks it's a different person. If the mistake is repeated, you can end up with data held in two separate files."

Steve contained his frustration. 'I thought the system was foolproof."

The staffer smiled. 'Yes, I heard that too." She studied the screen again. 'Nope. Sorry, sir, there -' An item caught her eye. 'Wait a minute. What's this...?" She looked across the counter at Steve.

'The subject of your enquiry. she just had the one child, right?"

'Yes, why?"

'Well, there's another Brickman listed here. Lucas W. Brickman, born 1642 hours on the same day - 15

December. Just fifteen minutes apart. Multiple births are very rare, but that's a typical time scale - which is why I asked if she'd had twins."

This is getting stranger by the minute, thought Steve.

'Who's listed as the guard-mother?"

'Of Lucas Brickman...?"

A hard-edged voice behind Steve said: 'That's okay, Jenni, I'll handle the captain's enquiry."

The staffer made a diplomatic exit leaving Steve facing the CNO. A brisk figure of authority who introduced himself as Major Bradman.

Steve repeated his original query about Clearwater.

Bradman checked the screen. 'Ahh, yes. This file has a data lock.

One moment..." He inserted his ID, typed in an access code and read the displayed information.

'llnnh! I'm afraid you're out of luck, Captain. The woman and child were discharged on receipt of a presidential order. A PO-1. Which means it came from the Oval Office as opposed to somewhere else in the white House. There are no other details - and no onward destination.

See for yourself-' Bradman swung the screen round towards Steve, who read the spa.r.s.e strands of information with a sinking heart. 'But you must know something! Who took her away? I' 'All I can tell you is what's on the screen, Captain. I don't know how well you're connected, but as a member of the Family you can access more information than I Can."

'Maybe. what about this Lucas Brickman?"

Bradman spread his hands. 'I'm not authorised to answer that query, Captain."

'Then who is, Major?"

'I can't answer that either. Ask someone inside the Family."

Steve saluted curtly and walked out. who the h.e.l.l was he going to ask inside the Family? He had met both the President-General and Karlstrom, but he had only ever been in their offices in answer to a summons from on high. He was a serving officer. He wasn't able to drop in on them whenever he felt like it. There were channels to go through, desks manned by senior officers who could bin any request he made without giving a reason.

On the social front, it was the same story. Wearing Confederate grey didn't ent.i.tle him to walk into Grand Palisades and accost Jefferson in the privacy of his famous rose garden. Door-stepping Karlstrom wasn't any easier.

The head of AMEXICO was the kind of man who was only seen when he wanted to be seen - and Steve did not even have his Cloudlands address.

No. He was screwed.

Yet again ....

Coming out into the main reception area, Steve was so wound up with his personal anxieties, he barely noticed the people around him. He threaded his way towards the exit through the blur of faces like an industrial robot programmed to avoid obstacles.