Before he sat, however, Meksorli gestured toward him. "Gentlemen, ladies, this is Colonel Veeri Thoglakaveera, late of the Klestronu marines. Colonel Veeri's probably the only man on Varatos who's actually seen and fought Confederation troops."

Veeri smiled briefly and nodded, then sat, pleased with the introduction and attention.

"D'you plan to go back there, Colonel?" someone asked. "With the invasion force?"

"Certainly, if there is one." Actually he'd given it no thought, nor had any interest in going back.

"There'll be one," someone else said.

"There'd better," said a third, sourly.

"We were just talking about the prospects," Meksorli said. "We're not entirely agreed."

"I haven't paid a lot of attention," Veeri answered. "The subject isn't a major one at the Klestronu Embassy. What do you think?"

Meksorli grinned. "Obviously I hope it comes off. As to the prospects-" He shrugged, still grinning. "Tell him, Alivii."

Alivii Simnasaveesi, the young captain who'd delivered Veeri's invitation both times, had connections in the Diet, and presumably inside information. "Even money that the Kalif gets the funding for it this year," said Alivii. "If he doesn't, then three to one for next. When he gets it, the preliminary plans have it launching twenty months afterward."

"That soon?"

Someone else spoke "The Ministry's already readying the Imperial Shipyard and the Imperial Ordnance Works. They'll be able to start major production within a week of funding. A second shift within two weeks, and a third two weeks after that, or maybe sooner. That's the plan. And the Lamatahasu family's setting up to expand their shipyard; probably others are, too. A lot of people will be surprised at how fast it goes."

"First the Kalif has to get the money," someone objected. "And right now he's got half the House mad at him because he acted like a man. Some of those ass-Excuse me, ladies. Some of the delegates have their heads up their-Shatim! It's hard to talk about them in mixed company."

There was laughter, some of it sour.

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten more interested, Colonel," said Meksorli to Veeri. "A colonel's likely to be a general in no time at all, when they start forming up new divisions. Someone like yourself, with combat experience in the Confederation, I can see wearing two suns in a hurry."

A major generalcy! Suddenly Veeri was interested. That was something he could stand having! "I'd be a lot more interested if I was as confident of it happening as some of you are. If I knew more about it…"

Two more officers came in then, a subcolonel and a major, commenting loudly on the rain. They were from 1st Corps, 2,100 miles north in the semi-desert near Fashtar. 1st Corps was the only Imperial Army corps actually assembled. Others existed only on paper, their units scattered. Meksorli quickly roped them into the conversation. The officer corps at Fashtar, they asserted, generally favored invasion. But the 1st Corps commander, whom one of them referred to as "His Majesty, Iron Jaw the First," had forbidden talking about it, calling it inflammatory. Still, one heard comments.

Another guest broke in, a lieutenant assigned to the Armed Forces Ministry, with the security detail. Discussion had been banned at the ministry, too, he said, then the ban lifted as impractical. After all, the ministry was up to its neck in paper preparations. Including refining SUMBAA's plans for integrating outer world forces into the invasion force.

Invasion was the only subject anyone seemed interested in talking about, and Veeri was surprised at the vehemence of certain officers. Then someone brought up a published article on the granting of fiefs in the Confederation, and Veeri found his own interest intensifying. He was a younger son of a younger son; he could never have a fief of his own on Klestron, only benefices based on his uncle's fief. Actually he'd never hankered for one; a fief had never seemed within the realm of possibility. Now he could visualize himself as ruling a great tract on some Confederation world!-on a richer, far more developed planet than primitive Terfreya had been.

He needed to follow the news and rumors regarding invasion, he decided. Tune in the newscasts regularly and subscribe to a facservice. As soon as the invasion had imperial funding, he'd resign his position here, return to Klestron, and reactivate his marine commission.

At length the gathering broke up, and he and Rami walked to his car. The rain had virtually stopped, and an umbrella escort wasn't necessary. Veeri had some difficulty inserting his security card into the control panel, and realized then that he'd drunk more than he'd intended. But he was basically sober, he told himself; the subject matter had contributed to that.

Once out of the hills, he speeded up. The clouds had broken, the broad gaps glittering with stars. Out there somewhere was his world-not just Klestron, but his new world.

I never expected to wish the Kalif well, he thought. Now I have to, in the matter of invasion. And really, what happened to me was my fault as much as his: He wronged me, but I invited it. I let a pretty face, a pretty ass, turn my head, and so did he. I forgot what I could be, and should be, only thought about getting that yellow-haired witch into bed.

Then the warning panel began flashing red on his screen, and he slowed. PULL TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AND STOP. YOU WERE DRIVING 56 MPH

With a disgusted curse, he obeyed. Two minutes later, a policeman stood beside his car. "Sorry, mlord," the man said, seeing the nobility mark on Veeri's forehead. "But I'll have to take a blood sample. Just a drop or two. It won't hurt a bit."

It didn't, but the results did. Veeri and Rami got into the police floater for a ride to the precinct station, while another officer brought in his new car, riding the system. Rami was questioned and released; Veeri gave her money for the cab. Then he was booked, and led to a small, but clean and reasonably comfortable cell.

"Just till tomorrow, m'lord," he was told. "Your alcohol level is illegal, but low enough that a first offence is a misdemeanor. You'll come before a magistrate in the morning, and when you've paid your fine, you'll be released. If it had been a felony-But I'm sure you'll be more careful the next time."

He'd just lain down when the realization struck him, hard enough that he sat up and slammed his fist into his palm. On Klestron, if a government employee was booked by the police for any infraction, even the most minor, a report was faxed to his supervisor. No doubt it was the same here. And if the report mentioned Rami…

Probably it wouldn't though, he told himself. She wasn't relevant to the infraction.

He lay back down, not fully reassured.

Thirty-nine

The young man heard almost all of it.

He'd come to present a petition to the Kalif's chief aide. Not his own petition; his employer's. He was administrative assistant to the managing editor of The Informer, a newszine charged with infringing on a government copyright, a technical but potentially troublesome charge. After giving his name to the exarch's secretary, the young man had sat down across the small waiting room from another man come to see the exarch.

The petition bearer had a quick and accurate memory, a very useful attribute in his job. A quick memory and a quick mind. Thus he recognized the other man from his picture as one of the Klestronu who'd arrived to brief His Reverence on the Confederation Army, eight or ten weeks earlier. It was his picture they'd featured in the news note, because he looked like a dashing marine combat officer should look: tall, handsome, and capable.