Mr. Hourani's head and shoulders appeared on the screen. The wall behind him was completely blank, so he was proba-bly in his own office rather than one of the conference rooms.

"Good evening, Mr. Bowerman, Ms. Cleary," said Mr. Hourani. They'd both given him permission to use their first names, but Angela had never heard him do it. "Thank you for your initial report. Your compromise on the Venus-Mars com-munication monitoring is excellent. I doubt we'll see anything there, but if we do, it would be best if the Venerans see it too. We are conducting this one in the full blaze of media jurispru-dence. You in particular are being watched. If we make an ac-cusation we must be very, very certain of our facts or we will be vilified from one end of the stream to the other." He gave them a small, ironic smile. "I know. Someone is going to do that anyway, but I'd prefer it if they were wrong and we were right."

Mr. Hourani turned over a sheet in front of him. "Now, as to Ms. Cleary being the one to actually visit the Discovery, all I have to say is, given Mr.

Bowerman's fondness for ancient combat rituals, I would have expectedyou to be ready for this eventuality." He flashed a look full of his best mock severity. "I can only hope you will do better next time." His face softened instantly back into his normal, neutral expression. "Continue with your good work. I will be very interested in what you un-cover." The connection faded to black.

"Excellent job, Ms. Cleary," said Phil.

"Excellent job, Mr. Bowerman," replied Angela. They shook hands vigorously. Angela rolled her screen back up and stood. "I've got training tomorrow morning. You want to get together afterwards and do an initial rundown on the Mars monitoring?"

"Sounds good." Phil stretched his arms up over his head and let them swing back down. "Tough going on the EVA stuff?"

Now it was Angela's turn to shrug. "Getting in and out of the suits is a pain, but other than that..." She shrugged again. "Ac-tually, I'm kind of looking forward to this. It's not a chance that comes around every day."

"You're right there. I just"-Phil waved his hands as if look-ing to catch hold of the right words-"cannot get excited about going down into that hellhole."

Angela chuckled and slapped him gently on the shoulder. "Wimp. You go through space just fine."

"Ah"-Phil held up one finger-"but if the ship springs a leak in space, chances are you'll have time to do something. One of those scarabs springs a leak, and you're going to pop like a balloon."

"Actually, I'll flatten and vaporize." She smiled at him. "They showed us a video. See you at breakfast?"

"You bet."

In her own room, Angela laid her screen roll on the desk. She stared at it for a moment, trying to understand what was bothering her. So far, the assignment had been a walk in the park. Everybody, everything, was as they were supposed to be, with just enough little variations and surprises to assure her that she was seeing them all accurately. The underlying tension could easily exist because Venera Base was a colony, a uniquecolony in a unique situation to be sure, but a colony all the same; and colonists did not generally like yewners, with good reason.

From the outside, Venera looked simple, but when you got inside, you saw it was anything but. It was called a research base, so everyone saw the scientists and the engineers and sel-dom got beyond that. But the majority of the ten thousand peo-ple on the base were not scientists. They were maintenance staff, shopkeepers, teachers, administrators, farmers, skilled and unskilled workers, children, and what Angie called "support spouses,"

people who kept the house and raised the children and did the business of living so the other spouse could take care of the other kinds of business. As on any isolated base, people were largely defined by what work they did.

Your work determined who you socialized with, where you lived, how you were treated in the social hierarchy-and there was definitely a hierarchy, with the scientists at the top. She hadn't quite defined the bottom yet. It was somewhere between the butchers and the farmers.

Not that there were bad neighborhoods here or anything like that.

Grandma Helen would never have permitted it. Every-thing was clean, everyone was looked after one way or an-other. Everyone had some kind of community to keep them going-villages within the village.

All of which helped explain one of the other things Angie had found.

Some people had spent their life savings and a whole lot of time trying to get here. It was far more peaceful than Mars and, unlike the Moon, was uncontrolled by corpo-rate interests. It was also far friendlier than Earth.

There were people who saw this as paradise, and Grandma Helen as Mother Creation.

All day Angela had talked to people: on the mall, on the ed-ucation level, in the food-processing plants, and all day she had heard the same thing. "Grandma Helen, she's a great woman."

"Grandma Helen, she keeps this place going."

"Grandma Helen knows what she's doing." It was amazing. It was a little frightening.

But still, there was something. Snippets. Near misses. Hesita-tions. She shook her head. She'd tell Phil about it at breakfast tomorrow. One of the things she liked about her partner and her boss was that they paid attention to unformed concerns. Maybe together Phil and she could digout whatever her sub-conscious was trying to tell her.

Angela smiled. One thing was for sure. If Venera Base had secrets, it would not be keeping them for very much longer.

Chapter Six.

"My fellow Ca'aed continues to enjoy its health?"

The sad envy in the city's question shivered through T'sha and made her shift her weight on the kite's perches. Disease and too many sterile winds had crippled the city of K'est. Pity surged through T'sha as her kite carried her through the city's body. The supporting bones shone white around her, as bleached as the corals. The only colors seemed to be the painted shells, with their sayings and teachings written in beautiful calligraphy overlaying graduated shades of rose and lavender.

"Ca'aed has been fortunate," T'sha replied to the city through her headset. "I have brought Ambassador Z'eth a new cloning of skin cells that have worked well for us."

"Ah," sighed K'est, "I look forward to receiving them." Although long illness had given K'est a slight tendency to-ward self-pity, the city was not yet dying. Far from it. Every-where, T'sha passed people alive with purpose. They tended and studied. They sampled and directed. In several places, she saw clusters of constructors and their attendants grafting living tendons onto dead bones and transplanting coral buds that glowed pink and orange with vibrant life. Although the winds swirling outside the city were thin, inside its sphere they were thick with life and nutrition. It was almost as if the engineers had turned the entire city into a refresher chamber. T'sha felt her skin expand to take in the richness flowing all around her. All of this life was the result of Ambassador Z'eth's tireless efforts. Another ambassador would have given up long ago and indentured her people to other cities for the best terms she could get. Perhaps she would have gone so far as to try to grow a village from what little still lived of her city.Z'eth, however, soared over her tragedies. It was known that K'est had suggested that her people disband and allow her to die, but Z'eth would not hear of it. Instead, she had bargained and bartered for her city's needs with a zeal that left the most senior of the High Law Meet in awe. Her city, her people, were not rich and might not ever be again, but they were alive, and if they were not strong, they were still proud.

T'sha had to admit Z'eth's call for a private meeting made her nervous.

Z'eth could wring promises from the clouds and the canopy, and T'sha was beholden to her on several levels. What did Z'eth want from T'sha? Or, even more important, what did she want from Ca'aed?

Z'eth's embassy lay beneath the city's central temple. The embassy was a chamber of shell and bone twined with liga-ments and synaptic lace to connect it directly to the major sen-sory nodes of the city. What the city felt was transmitted to the embassy without the city even having to speak.

Z'eth could tell by the tone and texture of her embassy walls how her city fared.

T'sha gave her kite to one of the embassy's few healthy mooring clamps and presented herself to the portal. It recog-nized her image and essence and opened for her.

"I have told the ambassador you are here," said K'est. "She is in the debating chamber."

"Thank you." T'sha slipped cautiously forward.

The embassy was crowded. So many people rested on the perches and floated in the air that T'sha could barely find room to glide through the corridors. T'sha glimpsed tattoos as she wove her way between them.

Some were engineers and teach-ers, which she had expected, but most were archivists and trackers.

Of course, not even the city could keep track of all Z'eth's promises. If there is enough of the city to work complex issues... T'sha winced at her own thoughts. K'est lived. It would grow strong again. Z'eth was dedicated and would see it happen.

T'sha laughed softly at herself. Old superstitions. Send a bad thought out on the wind, and it would land where it began. A Dessimistic thought about K'est's health could affect Ca'aed's.At last, T'sha made her awkward way to the embassy's de-bating chamber. The room filled with the scent and taste of people. Words crowded the air and bumped against T'sha's wings. In the center of it all hung Z'eth, her posthands clutch-ing a synaptic bundle as she listened to an engineer, a teacher, and an archivist. For a moment, T'sha thought she might be taking the pulse of her city as it listened to the same discussion and weighed the words.

T'sha waited politely in the threshold. Eventually, Z'eth dis-engaged herself from her advisers and glided a winding but still dignified path to the door.

"Good luck, Ambassador T'sha." Z'eth raised her forehands. "I'm sorry you find such a crush here. We've had a heavy day. K'est is suffering from a vascular cancer in the upper eastern districts. As you can imagine, we must work quickly."

The news shook T'sha's bones. "Good luck, Ambassador," she said hurriedly, even as she touched Z'eth's hands. "Please, allow me to return some other time. You have too much to do here without-"

Z'eth fanned her words away. "You leave for New Home in two dodec-hours, do you not?"

"Yes," admitted T'sha, "but-"

"Then my words must touch you now." Z'eth lifted her muz-zle, as if tasting the air to find a quiet space. "Let us go to the refresher. It is not the place for polite conversation, but-"

"Gladly, Ambassador," T'sha dipped her muzzle.

"Then follow me, if there is room," Z'eth added ruefully.

They made their way through the corridor, sometimes flying, sometimes picking their way from perch to perch, but at last the refresher opened for them. T'sha allowed the thick air to surround her. The circulation pushed her gently from point to point, allowing her own toxins to disperse while her skin took in what nutrients the room had to offer.

The walls sprouted fresh fruits and other dainties, but T'sha did not sample any, even though nervousness had emptied her stomachs.Z'eth let the room float her for a while. It seemed to T'sha her skin was drinking deeply of quiet as well as nutrition. As T'sha watched, Z'eth swelled, opening her pores and relaxing her bones.

The moment, however, did not last. Z'eth returned to her normal size, angling her wings and spreading her crest to hold herself still against the room's circulating breezes.

"I have been following up the records of your votes, Am-bassador," she said as T'sha brought herself to a proper dis-tance for conversation. "You have been lavish with Ca'aed's promises."

T'sha resolved not to drop her gaze or twiddle her postfingers. "Now is not a good time to narrow our chances of success on the candidate world."

She could not yet bring herself to call it New Home. D'seun's words still echoed through the High Law Meet. His friends were many, and they had promises they could call in at a moment's notice. "Without constant countering, there was still the danger that a vote might be taken to ignore the New People altogether and simply start full-scale conversion of the candidate world into New Home."

"Ambassador T'sha," sighed Z'eth, "as one who has repre-sented her city for a long time, let me warn you-if Ca'aed got sick now, you would have nothing to save it with."

T'sha lost her balance for a moment and drifted away. Z'eth's words touched her secret fear. She had not even voiced the worry to Ca'aed itself, although she suspected Ca'aed knew. "Ca'aed is strong and has the wisdom of years."

"The past did not help Gaith. We are flying into the nightside, Ambassador T'sha, and we may not come out." Z'eth dipped her muzzle.

"Especially if we do not have New Home."

"Ambassador." T'sha hesitated. "Did I have your vote only because of my promises?"

Z'eth swelled. "No." The word was strong against T'sha's skin. "I believe you are correct. We must understand the New People. We must know they have no claim on the candidate world. If a feud began, we could be divided if there were... questions about our right to do as we do. We cannot be di-vided."T'sha felt as if all the air had rushed away from her wings and that she must fall. "A feud with the New People? How can it even be contemplated?"

"If we both want the same thing, and we both have justifi-able claims, how can it not be contemplated?" returned Z'eth. "Ambassador, I know that your mother favored teachers from the temples for your education, but you are not that naive. We have a severe problem. We need New Home. We have New Home underneath us. We must be ready to secure it.

We can-not question that."

Even if the New People truly have a legitimate claim? Ambas-sador, what are you asking of me? In the next moment T'sha knew, and the realization tightened her skin and bones. Z'eth wanted T'sha to go in and study the situation, as mandated by the vote in the High Law Meet. Then, no matter what she found, Z'eth wanted T'sha to say that the New People had no legitimate claim to the candidate world.

"Ambassador Z'eth... I cannot promise to give you the an-swers you want."

"I know that." Z'eth drifted even closer. The taste and touch of her words flooded T'sha's senses. "I am not asking you to say anything you do not see. I am asking you to understand how serious this matter is. How deeply we need this done. I am asking you to imagine scars on Ca'aed's hearts and the an-cient walls crumbling to dust on the wind because the life has been bleached out of them. I am asking you to imagine your city in pain." She paused. "I am asking you to imagine what I have been through with K'est."

Shame and confusion shriveled T'sha. Already Ca'aed was afraid, a fact that never left her, even though her city had never spoken to her of it but that once. What if... ?

"I have never underestimated the dangers," said T'sha, un-certain whether she was trying to reassure Z'eth or herself.

"I think you have, Ambassador," said Z'eth, cutting her off. "I am sorry, but I believe what I say to be the truth. You are young, you are rich, and you have all the Teachings behind you. I have only my crippled city and my people promised down to their grandchildren."T'sha clamped her muzzle shut. If she tried to speak now, she would only spurt and sputter like a nervous child. Even so, she could not believe what filled the air between them. Am-bassador Z'eth wanted her to discover that the New People had no legitimate claim to the candidate world so that if those New People wished to begin a feud over the world, the People themselves would not even consider that the New People's cause might be legitimate.

Z'eth asked for this without facts, without sight or taste or any other concrete knowledge.

She asked T'sha to tell this heinous lie because she, Z'eth, feared for her city.

No, no, that's not all, T'sha tried to banish the thought. There is more to it than that. She fears for her city's people, for all of us.

But even if Z'eth only feared for her city, surely that was fear enough.

T'sha tried to imagine Ca'aed as ill as K'est. What would she do? What would she not do?

And she owed Z'eth heavily for her support. Without her, T'sha would not be going to the candidate world at all.

But what was the point of T'sha going to question D'seun's work if she took the answers with her?

T'sha tensed her bones. "I will remember the touch of your words," she said. "I feel them keenly. They will not fall away from me in the winds of the candidate world."

"Thank you, Ambassador," said Z'eth gravely. "That is all the promise I ask."

Thank you, Ambassador, for that is all the promise I can give. "Is there anything else we must discuss? As you said, I must leave soon, and I still have so much to settle with Ca'aed and its caretakers."

Z'eth dipped her muzzle. "Care for your city, Ambassador. May it stay strong for your return."

They wished each other luck and parted, Z'eth to find her advisers, andT'sha to find her kite.

What T'sha could not find again was her calm. As her kite flew her home, T'sha turned Z'eth's words over and over again, searching for comfort, or at least a kinder interpretation in them.

A feud with the New People. It was not something she had even considered. If the New People had any kind of claim on the candidate world, surely, the People themselves would sim-ply leave. Life served life.

Life spread life. Sane and balanced life did not spend itself in useless contest. It found its own niche and filled it to the fullest. The People were sane and bal-anced and would not feud with the New People.

But what if the New People feud with us?

All of T'sha's bones contracted abruptly at the thought. No. She shook herself. It could not happen. There are things which must be true for all sane life. If they have no claim, they cannot contest our claim. There would be no reason for them to. Z'eth is a great ambassador, but perhaps she has been fighting too long for the life of her city.

Not that she is growing insane, T'sha added to herself hastily. But perhaps her focus has narrowed.

That was a good enough thought that T'sha could pretend to be content with it. But even so, Z'eth's words about a sudden illness touching Ca'aed left a nagging fear. Almost instinctively, T'sha ordered her headset to call Ca'aed.

"Good luck, Ambassador," came the city's voice. "How went your meeting with Ambassador Z'eth?"

T'sha deflated. "I will tell you, Ca'aed. I don't know which upset me more, Z'eth or her city."

Ca'aed murmured sympathetically. "Visiting the sick can be distressing."

A silence stretched out between them, while T'sha worked up the courage to ask the question that would not leave her alone. "Ca'aed?"

"Yes, T'sha?"T'sha deflated even further, as if the weight of her thoughts pressed down on her. "You said... you said you were afraid that you would suffer, as Gaith suffered-"

"I am afraid, T'sha. I cannot help it."

"But I may find that the New People have a legitimate claim on the candidate world. What then?"