Jane pa.s.sed a hand over her eyes with a trembling hand. "I haven't been eating or sleeping well. Did I... did I say anything?"

Sarah shook her head. Jane read the worry in her eyes. "You were moaning. Nothing intelligible."

Thank G.o.d for small favors. "Would you mind getting me a drink of water?"

"Sure. Wait right here."

She stepped out. Jane hunched over her knees.

How many crazy people had there been, over the years, who were sure they had a special line to G.o.d? It was time to quit s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around. She pulled the antipsychotics out of her pocket, shook out a pill into a trembling hand. It was a big pill; she would need that drink of water to get it down.

She stared at the pill.

Her reluctance, she had to admit, was in large part a visceral dislike of being dependent on medication. But she wanted to think that there was more to it than simply that.

I don't believe in the supernatural, she thought. But she could not shake this deep conviction that somehow she had landed in, or been maneuvered into, this position where the fate of many depended on her. Perhaps even more than simply the people of Phocaea. she thought. But she could not shake this deep conviction that somehow she had landed in, or been maneuvered into, this position where the fate of many depended on her. Perhaps even more than simply the people of Phocaea.

It was then she realized that she had already decided to play the hand the Voice had dealt her. An awareness filled her of the forces in play. A strategic map laid itself out before her. She knew which pieces would need to be moved, and when. Not in so many words, but she sensed the underlying pattern.

Beneath it all-despite the fact that the Voice could not be anything more than schizophrenia or, more frighteningly, biochemical manipulation by her enemies-something deep in her trusted it. She had always relied on her instincts, and the Voice felt the same way her hunches always had, only bigger. She had to trust that.

She did not need to know what the Voice was to believe that the knowledge it gave her was truth. She might be going mad. In fact, it was much more likely than the alternative. But if so, it seemed a useful madness. Whatever was happening was enabling her to tap into her own intuitions, in a much more direct and powerful way than she had ever known before.

And I'm a free agent, now, she thought again. she thought again. I'm no longer resource allocation chief-no longer bound by my obligations to the cl.u.s.ter. I can do what I want. I'm no longer resource allocation chief-no longer bound by my obligations to the cl.u.s.ter. I can do what I want.

She wanted to see where this bout of inspired madness would take her. She put the pill back into the vial and tucked it away.

Sarah came in with the water. Jane took it with thanks. She drained the cup and wiped her mouth with a quick, decisive nod.

"I'm famished," she said.

Sarah looked relieved. "It'll do you a world of good to get a good meal in you. What are you in the mood for?"

"Anything private," Jane said. "I'm sick of motes in my soup." She paused. "I know it's pricey to keep running your antimote nanoware. Do we have another option? Something that ensures privacy?"

Sarah looked thoughtful. "It's not far to the Badlands, and I know people there who can hack us a barrier. It's not as bad as its rep," she said. "Not if you know people."

"You have Badlands connections?" Again Jane felt the stirrings of her Voice. The Viridians' domain was the Badlands.

"From my pro bono work," Sarah replied, "on behalf of Downsider immigrants..."

"You never told me!"

"The subject just never came up." Sarah shrugged. "Viridians are weird, I grant you. But they're not the monsters people make them out to be."

"I never would have pegged you for this."

"There's a moral issue involved. I would never modify my own genome to the extent they do. I wouldn't go even so far as you have, Jane, with your foot and hip mods. But I can't countenance what was done to the gene-mutes, Downside. They are consummate artisans, and their own genome is their workbench. However much we may criticize them, by their own lights they are very careful and ethical.

"Are we any more human than our ancestors whose only tools consisted of rocks and skins? Are we less so? I've worked closely with the Viridians for years, and they are no better or worse than anyone else I know. Human is as human does."

"I have to be honest. Their mods make my skin crawl. But I agree with your sentiment, and I laud you for having the courage of your convictions."

"Thanks. But I benefit, too. They are amazing technologists. It helps, sometimes, to have the right sort of friends."

"As, for instance, right now."

Sarah smiled. "Exactly." She held the door open for Jane, and they entered the "Stroiders" haze.

As they neared Ouroboros, Amaya broke into Geoff's thoughts. "I've been thinking..."

"What?"

"Well, shouldn't the university have arranged this visit through you? If it was on the up-and-up, I mean. It's still your property. You haven't signed it over."

Geoff thought about it. "I guess it is a bit odd."

Kam said, "It is possible the black marketers told someone else about it. Someone not so nice."

Geoff said, "But Moriarty checked, and everything was on the level. I know Professor Xuan. He wouldn't collude with bad guys."

"Maybe he doesn't know," Kam replied. "Maybe they tricked him."

Geoff didn't say anything. He had a hard time taking the idea seriously. Those black marketers weren't his definition of competent. And they had been arrested.

"In any case," Amaya said, "we should be cautious. Let's not just go barging in. Let's land over the horizon and observe them."

"I suspect they have already seen us coming," Kam pointed out. "Every ship has radar."

"Perhaps. We should a.s.sume they have."

"I think we're worrying unnecessarily," Geoff said. "But it doesn't hurt to take a few precautions. What's your air and fuel look like?"

They had about an hour and a half of air left, and one quarter fuel. Meaning they couldn't get back to town without recharging both. So they had to land. "Look. If they're legit, we have no problem. If they aren't, we need an angle."

Amaya made a sound in her throat. "What; we're going to knock on their airlock and ask if they're with the mob?"

"Well, I had something a bit sneakier in mind. We'll treat them on the level, but we'll have something in the back pocket. Just in case." Maybe Dad was right about his sneakiness. Well, it came in handy sometimes. "Remember when we were first came out to Ouroboros last year, and we had problems with the power out to the chemical plant? You two climbed up into the heat discharge piping and ran a conduit out to the plant." The tunnels had been too small for Geoff or Ian, even back then, but both Amaya and Kam had been able to wiggle through. And, importantly, the heat venting pipe was a good ways away from the mine entrance. Behind a ridge, in fact.

"Yeah," Kam said, "but I've had a growth spurt since then. I barely fit through that shaft before. No way I'd fit now."

"Amaya?"

She was silent for a moment. "I'm about the same size as I was then, I suppose. But..." Her voice shook. "I nearly got stuck, Geoff. Don't you remember? Kam and me, we had to take off our tanks at the narrowest spot. My line got pulled and my air was cut off for nearly three minutes till we could rig me a patch. I nearly suffocated."

Geoff did not say anything for a second. Then he sighed. "You're right. We'll have to think of another way."

A silence. Then Amaya inhaled sharply. "Oh h.e.l.l. I did it before. I can do it again."

Geoff released his own breath. "You're my hero."

"Amen," Kam said.

"Yeah, yeah; whatever. Lay it out. What's your idea, Geoff?"

Geoff quickly sketched out the bones of a strategy. Kam and Amaya asked some questions and helped refine the details, and soon they had a plan. They kept it simple-no time for anything complicated; plenty of room for improvisation. But something was missing. For a moment he didn't know what, but then he exhaled sharply. "d.a.m.n. I can't believe it."

"What?" asked Kam and Amaya at the same time.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I really wish Ian were here with us." His friends laughed.

Then the rock was upon them. They corrected course, slowing, and kept the bulk of Ouroboros between them and the intruders as they steered to a landing.

Jane and Sarah sat at a rickety two-person table in Portia's Mess, a dive in the heart of the Badlands. Portia's was a Tonal_Z bar. Not too rough, as Badlands hangouts went. It reminded her a bit of the French Quarter in New Orleans, which she had visited as a college student back on Earth. Fashionable sleaze. Pleasingly nasty. Portia, a chubby bald woman wearing a fur coat, stepped up onto the stage. "Ladies and gents, please join me in welcoming troubadour Gabriel Thondu Macharia, visiting us all the way from Earth s.p.a.ce!"

Jane straightened, staring, as a trio near the small stage stood up. The other patrons were a young local couple, and a small cl.u.s.ter of tourists; Jane could tell they were tourists because they sounded nasal; Downsiders didn't have the mods that kept their sinus tissues under control. In microgee their sinuses swelled up like water balloons. The patrons made a three-tone sound as the troubadours mounted the stage, which Jane belatedly recognized as a Tonal_Z expression of approval.

"I know one of them," she said.

"Which one?"

Jane gestured. "The lead musician. He's the troubadour who helped us stop the feral. That one." In this venue, he looked softer, more effeminate. And under the stage lights, his skin was lighter, more akin to Xuan's rock-brown tone than the deep, warm African-mahogany hue she recalled from before. She pondered whether to speak to him, and decided to wait till after they were done with their performance. The musicians adjusted their stools and tuned their instruments. Thondu had his harp; one of the other two pulled out a flute; the third moved to the drum set.

Jane did not bother to turn on her translator. But with its eerie progressions, the word-music fit Jane's mood to the micron. The sounds tumbled across one another in a pattern so unexpected, and yet so right, that you could sense the language that rode the tones-sleek, energetic-leaping in graceful arcs, diving deep beneath the surface. That young man had a real gift.

In this place, the tension was ebbing from her, leaving her pensive, even drowsy. She had not realized till now how tightly she had bound herself over the past few days. It wasn't just the poemsong; it was also the privacy. For the first time in a long time, no one here seemed to know her or care who she was. That suited her fine.

The waitron brought their food. They ate. The musicians took a break and stepped into a back room, and the patrons' voices rose to fill the s.p.a.ce.

It was time.

Jane leaned forward and spoke softly. "Sarah, I need a meeting with the Badlander leader, Obyx. Can you arrange it?"

Sarah looked startled. "Why?"

"I have a need they can help with. I don't want to go into detail here."

"I'm not sure you should involve yourself with the Viridians."

"You seem to be doing all right for yourself."

"That's different. I told you, I help them occasionally, pro bono. I defended Obyx, back when."

"Back when what?"

Sarah smiled. "Ze was a defendant in the mail-order miners lawsuit."

"So?"

"So, nothing. We have an agreement. Obyx doesn't ask me to do anything illegal, and I'm hir connection to the mainstream business community."

"So, consider me a new business opportunity."

Sarah's brow furrowed. "First you should know what you are dealing with. The Viridians really are different from us. They have their ethics-their code of honor, if you will-and they're careful about their activities out here, but they have ties with criminal organizations back on Earth. Things could get... complicated."

"'Criminal organizations'? Let me tell you about 'criminal organizations.' The prime minister has just signed a deal with a Martian crime family. The disaster in the warehouse was sabotage-caused by Ogilvie & Sons. One of my staff has been murdered! Don't lecture me about ethics." She had come half out of her seat before she knew it. Others in the restaurant were staring at her.

Jane sat back down. Cool off, Navio. Cool off, Navio. "Sorry. But you get my point" "Sorry. But you get my point"

Sarah waved her apology away. "Forget it. I just want you to know what you're getting into. When do you want to see hir?"

"Tonight. Right away."

"Tonight?" Sarah eyed her. "You don't waste any time. Let me make some calls." She excused herself and went outside. Jane spent a few moments stirring her drink with her pinkie, sucking her fingertip, brooding.

Thondu and his accompanists were just then reentering the cafe. Jane walked over to them. "I enjoyed your performance."

"Thank you," he said, turning with a smile. Then his eyes flew open and he suppressed a start. "Oh... Commissioner Navio. I didn't expect-"

Jane regarded him. Interesting reaction. "Not 'commissioner' anymore. I'm a private citizen now." She sensed, rather than heard, Sarah come up behind her.

Thondu looked embarra.s.sed. "Actually, I will be leaving soon."

"Really?"

He was babbling now, clearly nervous. "Yes, I'm trying to get a berth on the Sisyphus Sisyphus. But it's been difficult-no seats are available. I don't- I may have to wait for a later ship."

Jane turned to Sarah, who gave her a minuscule nod and gestured for her to follow.

Thondu's obvious discomfort lingered in her mind as Jane and Sarah departed the restaurant. But more interesting to her was that clearly, he-he?-did not want to spend any more time in her company than he had to. It confirmed her suspicions that he had stolen the feral sapient out from under their noses last night.

Sarah took her down a catwalk. Along the way, a group of adolescents played stickball nearby, leaping into the reaches of the mid-gee netways. Gravity was heavy enough here that she found their gymnastics impressive. At a cafe, young couples sat at small tables. Some of them even looked human. Groups of young Badlanders roamed the streets. Jane grew nervous as one group approached, laughing raucously and gesturing. They stared at Jane and Sarah, and there was a hint of menace in their behavior. But a large, multilimbed young man appeared from the shadows nearby. He was holding a dual-snake-DNA staff. The group grew quiet, and pa.s.sed Jane and Sarah without a word.

Jane glanced at Sarah with raised eyebrows, as the young man faded back into the shadows.

"Shivas," Sarah murmured. "Angels. They work for Obyx."

"Obyx has an army? Christ, Sarah."

"Relax. They're not vigilantes. They're peacekeepers. More like a neighborhood watch committee."

"How come n.o.body talks about this?"

But she was being naive, and she knew it. Obyx's name certainly came up, when the city and cl.u.s.ter power brokers talked about the impacts of legislation or other proposed city plans on local neighborhoods. Still, none of them had ever let on that Obyx was a gang lord. Neither had Chik.u.ma; if anything, she had seemed to hold hir in a certain wary regard.