She had her work cut out for her.

The tropical night had fallen across the landscape, veiling everything in a dusky velvet. She could see the scattered lights of Doisy-Dyan and the cars on the highway in the mid-distance. Tumbled slum tenements poked through the tree cover.

A cool breeze was blowing in off the river, taking off some of the steaming heat of the day.

Suddenly there was the unmistakable sound of an automatic weapon. There was a long burst, then a short one, and then silence.

Ronx stuck his head out the door. "That was in Chaleban, probably Plum Street again," he said with an air of certainty.

Cachester was there. She gave him a questioning look.

"Local death squad again, I'm afraid," he murmured.

"Death squad?" she said.

"Sorry, our slang for the local police," Cachester said.

"What is going on out there?"

Cachester compressed his lips and studied the drink in his hand. "Well, probably some slum dwellers have just been put against a wall and shot. After being accused of liberating."

"By the local police?"

"Off-duty, of course. It's evening work, but they're well paid. It's all taken care of."

Chang bristled at the implications. "Who pays for this off-duty slaughter?"

Cachester looked very uncomfortable. "Well, the CPS, of course."

"The Committee for the Preservation of Society?"

"Of course, very active here in Doisy-Dyan, all of Patash-Do in fact."

"A legal body, accredited to the ITAA."

"Of course." Cachester frowned. "Look, Colonel, I feel there are some things we should talk about, but privately. It would be best that way. Perhaps tomorrow morning at my office."

Chang noticed a pair of orderlies staring at her with luminous eyes, absolutely attuned to her very next words.

"You have to understand how it is here." Cachester was practically whispering. "There's virtually no middle class, just the top and the bottom. The Liberators are considered nothing but thieves and terrorists."

She looked away, out across the highway to the tumbledown tenements, floating there in the velvet night.

Somewhere an ambulance was wailing.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE NEXT MORNING CHANG ARRIVED IN HER 0FFICE EARLY, equipped with a debugging device. When switched on it blew a dozen small listening thingies hidden in the room and announced the presence of a very skillfully designed passive device that was built into the lamp on the desk.

Luisa removed the lamp along with what remained of Hrudna's papers and dumped it in the outer office. She also tossed out all the computing equipment; it, too, was hopelessly compromised. She substituted her own briefcase computer, a lovely old Strand that had been in her family for generations. It bad a very pleasing male voice, and for some reason Luisa always preferred male computer voices.

Then she worked through the mound of reports on the desk. Conflicts abounded, outrages were commonplace. Lebanonization was widespread, economic terrorism virtually the norm in some places.

Here, "Liberators" broke into warehouses, slaughtered merchants, and made off with the trade goods.

There, "Regulators" swept through peasant villages hauling out young men and executing them at the roadside.

In Luc Province, Liberators had stormed the town of Jajuste and carried out a frightful massacre of the inhabitants, who were accused of profiteering on the backs of the peasants.

In Fourcas Province, a mercenary band known as the Greedy Dogs had been squeezing the people and towns for months, killing wantonly whenever their demands were not met.

In Fourcas's neighbor Shamsoon Province, there was virtually civil war raging between the Dengs and the Catroon clan.

Artillery barrages had taken a hundred lives in the past two weeks.

In Azoma on the Twin Continent, Male Cultists continued to practice infanticide on female children despite repeated interventions by the ITAA forces. In Chungyan Province, a local ruler had slain more than a hundred villagers after they banded together to oppose his theft of their irrigation water.

It went on and on, a litany of crimes and horrors, to make one wonder at the collective sanity of the population of Wexel. After half an hour Chang finished skimming the pile and pushed it aside.

She took a breath and switched to another set of reports, which she brought out of her own briefcase and scanned on the Strand's screen. These reports concerned the officers and troops of the ITAA Wexel Command.

She was still at work on these when her secretary Forsht checked in, twelve minutes late. Forsht was a plump, overly well-fed youth, a sub-corporal from the 624 transport section. His salute was sloppy; his uniform was a mess of garish nonregulation items.

Chang dismissed Forsht on the spot and sent him back to the transport section as a private. She used the Strand to track down a female sergeant, named Povet, who worked in the central administration section.

Jean Povet arrived within a minute. Her uniform was simple and correct. She knew how to salute. She gave off an impression of solid efficiency. Chang knew she'd been bought but that she wasn't a greedy sort. Lagedeen and Ronx had a high opinion of her. She needed friends here; to do what she was going to do later she first had to build bridges.

"I need a new secretary, Sergeant," Chang said.

"Excuse me, sir, but what happened to Corporal Forsht? He was Colonel Hrudna's secretary."

"Private Forsht has returned to his posting in the transport section. You will be the new secretary here."

"Yes, sir." Povet exhibited a wary degree of enthusiasm.

"I have examined your record very closely, Sergeant Povet. I think we will get along. I like things done by the regulation, by the code, and by the book. That means I want ITAA uniform to be worn correctly at all times by those on duty. I want regulations concerning punctuality and duty time to be rigorously enforced. This unit will pull itself together and demonstrate the proper ITAA spirit or I will have everyone's hide. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir!" Povet continued her cautious approval.

Luisa thought she and Povet might get along well.

"Right, then get on with moving yourself up here and then book me a meeting with Sergeant Ronx. The MP section on this post needs a few lessons on the dress regs, I believe."

Povet vanished, still smiling.

Chang turned her attention to the oddly evasive Captain Nathaniel Blake.

His file indicated a record of battle honors like none she'd ever seen before. A veteran of the fighting on Planet Kursk as well as the Malan cluster, he had numerous decorations, including the ITAA Silver Star, the highest award available for conspicuous courage in the face of enemy fire.

The recent comments in the file, however, placed there by previous commanders on Wexel, gave a more negative picture.

"Headstrong," "oblivious to orders," "insubordinate and wild"; they formed an unbroken litany of condemnation. At the same time the captain was mentioned for his involvement in dozens, hundreds of policing incidents. A sample showed most to have been successful.

Chang was left to wonder. She had already sent out an order for Blake to present himself in her office as soon as he reappeared on base. As yet this order had produced not a trace of the man.

Chang had a working lunch with Sergeant Povet, some yogurt and fruit with a cup of instacaf to follow.

They discussed the base and its situation. Chang found that as Povet saw it, the base was more decoration than anything else. The ITAA presence on Wexel had been neutralized, at the local level, through generations of accommodation and bribery.

Finally, at 1400 hours there was a knock at the door and a somewhat dusty Captain Blake appeared.

Chang felt a degree of disappointment at the sheer ordinariness of the man. She'd expected a real tiger, but this fellow was rather nondescript in appearance. One-point-nine meters tail, about two hundred pounds, with short graying hair and a slightly pudgy look to his face, he was hardly of the heroic mold.

It was the eyes, however, that belied the rest. They were cold and hard, like gimlets of blue fire.

He was wearing well-worn combat fatigues with sweat stains, and dusty boots. The holster for his side arm seemed as worn as the rest of him. He saluted with minimal style.

"Captain Blake, we meet at last," she said. "Please take a seat"

She kept him waiting a few moments while she finished a memo and sent it off via the Strand.

"Now, Captain. We can talk."

"I'm the new commanding officer here; Hrudna has gone."

"Yes, sir, I know that."

"Good, you know that."

Blake leaned forward with an earnest expression.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be at the welcoming party last night, Colonel, but I had something I had to check into."

"I've been told that you're not much of a man for parties anyway, Captain Blake."

"Well, they may be right. I'm generally too busy."

"And what were you doing last night, then?"

"You heard me."

"Well, sir, we had a report that indicated that we might be able to intercept a particular group of Regulators in the act of committing an atrocity."

"Where, who, and what?"

"In the Skullas Hills, sir. The Regulators are in the employ of Lord Schreck of Ganover. We thought they would be sweeping the villages."

"And were they?"

"No. They were busy elsewhere. In Cusifat, where they hanged five youths accused of liberating."

"And were they Liberators?"

"No, sir, just petty thieves. Most of the people executed for liberating are either thieves or unlucky."

"Unlucky?"

"Unlucky enough to fall afoul of some lord or lady connected to the Ownership."

"Ah, the Ownership, a mysterious entity that is much discussed in the learned articles. You affirm that it exists."

"Certainly, sir. It has different names in different provinces but essentially it is the same thing. An oligarchy that was produced in the violent overthrow of the laowon and which has endured ever since."

"A selfish oligarchy?"

"A good description, Colonel. Ah, Colonel, sir, may I ask a question?"

"Certainly, go ahead, Captain."

"I'm sorry to ask this, sir, but! want to know if you had a security sweep in here for listening devices."

Chang nodded, "I found a few things; one was very subtle, built into the light fixture."

Blake hunched forward. "They'll be replaced tonight, you can be sure of that. And if you do continue to sweep, they'll simply read your window."

"Laser reflection, eh?"

"Of course, sir."

"Well, I'll put a vibrator on the window, then."

"Sir? You might want to consider a Taldish system; it's cumbersome, but I know it's effective."

Taldish devices everywhere, roaming the walls like big metal cockroaches, vibrators on every corner, every aperture. Chang sighed.

"I will have to take steps, I can see."

"Sir, may I speak freely?"

"You may, Captain."

"This is Wexel, sir; there are spies everywhere. Security cannot be trusted."