She turned back and pointed at Tiepolo. "You show us as an example to people who cannot possibly understand ComStar's true significance to mankind. We are not and can never be a mere example. If mankind is to reclaim its destiny and rise from the dung heap of conflict and war and if the Word of Blake is to be fulfilled, mankind needs a leader, not an example. ComStar is that leader, which is what you should have made very clear last night!"

Precentor Tharkad clapped his hands in a slow, insulting cadence. "Bravo, Myndo. As always, you provide us with a glimpse of what small minds think. Our audience last night heard the true message in the Primus's words."

Myndo stiffened. "Did they? After all the idiotic antics you've witnessed over the years, how can you assume any of them were smart enough to hear what I did not?"

Ulthar's predatory smile flashed and Myndo felt his snare close around her. "You, yourself, have just warned us of the dangers posed by Hanse Davion and Katrina Steiner. Are we to suppose that it is pity that has kept these two intellectual giants from crushing their enemies, or shall we believe—correctly—that the combatants are too evenly matched?"

Ulthar shook his head indulgently. "As you did not have ears to hear the Primus last night, allow me to translate his words' true intent. By emphasizing that the wedding ceremony symbolized growth, he poignantly reminded lords of stagnant and dwindling domains that all growth would be at their expense. By urging the blessing of unity upon those assembled, he rekindled the fierce fires of nationality and independence that burn so fiercely in the hearts of that audience. He urged them to bless a union that many of them secretly curse, and in asking them all to come together, he forces them further apart."

Myndo snorted derisively. "Did he say anything that did notrequire such mental contortions to understand?"

Precentor Tharkad nodded slowly. "In holding ComStar up as an example, he diluted our threat. 'Look at us,' he urged, and all there did. They saw a toothless organization in its dotage. Were anyone to point us out as sinister and scheming, he would probably have been laughed out of the room."

Precentor Tharkad smiled at the whole of the First Circuit. "Calm yourself, Precentor Dieron. Though you were deaf to the message spoken last night, do not worry that others did not understand its full import. They did—and closer yet to fruition comes the Word of Blake because of it."

28

ComStar First Circuit Compound

Hilton Head Island, North America, Terra

18 August 3028

Akira Brahe ignored the guide's droning voice and selected a table as far from the Acolyte as possible. He moved toward the corner of the rooftop patio and set his box lunch down on the table. Leaning against the railing that surrounded the patio, he closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun. It feels so good to breathe the salt air and feel the sun's warmth.He exhaled deeply, letting all tension flow from his body.

"Excuse me," a feminine voice interrupted. "But may I join you?"

Akira forced a pleasant smile to his face, but it became more genuine as he opened his eyes and turned to the dark-haired woman. He nodded and waved her to the bench opposite him. "Please be seated."

"Thank you." Dressed in white slacks and a blue-and-white striped sailor jersey, she looked perfectly at home against the oceanscape background. The young woman extended her hand to him with a smile. "My name is Riva."

Akira shook her hand, then bowed. "I am Akira." He slipped onto the bench at his side of the table. "You are from . . . ?"

"The Federated Suns." She looked up at him. "I hope you don't mind that I came to sit with you." She glanced back at the other tour members gathered at tables nearer the ComStar guide. "I didn't realize this tour would be a geriatric attraction."

Akira smiled. "Though I acknowledge our elders as living storehouses of knowledge and tradition," he said in low, conspiratorial tones, "I do not want to spend all my time with them, either."

"The worst of it," said Riva, "is their curiosity. I've been asked so many questions about myself this morning that I feel like a terrorist under interrogation. No more. Your learning where I'm from is the last bit of information I'm giving out." She met his frown with a friendly smile. "Everyone here is being so careful about who they're seen with or what they say that I've decided to give up worrying about it."

Akira narrowed his eyes. "I'm not certain I follow you."

Riva slid her thumbnail through the tape holding down the lid of her box lunch. "Last night, I saw you arrive with the Coordinator. You wore a uniform, so I know you are a MechWarrior. Where are you stationed?"

Akira stiffened slightly. "That, of course, is something I cannot tell you."

Riva nodded. "If your posting is a secret, I respect that." With a gesture of the thumb, she indicated some of the people behind her. "It's just that so many of them seem to think of themselves as spies, when they're all just amateurs." She frowned as she dug through her box lunch. "If any of them had half a brain, they could find out what they want to know without having to ask a single question."

"How so?" Akira opened his own lunch, which immediately released the scent of pickled ginger.

Riva winked at him. "Well, first off, if I'd not seen you in a uniform last night, this little lunch ComStar packed for you would tell me you're from the Draconis Combine. Smells like some kind of sushito me."

Akira nodded. "Rice rolls and teka-maki."He tapped at the side of her box lunch. "And what is ComStar's idea of a typical Federated Suns repast?"

Riva shrugged unenthusiastically. "Quillarand peanut butter sandwich, with a naranjion the side."

The sea breeze carried the screams of hungry sea gulls to the picnickers. Looking up at the white birds floating on the sea winds, Akira said, "I think they would accept our lunches if we do not want them."

Riva smiled, but waved away the suggestion. "Tell you what. I'll give you half my sandwich for some of your sushi."

Akira shook his head. "All or nothing—I hate sushi."

"We split the naranjil"

"Deal."

"Great!" Riva plucked the purplish citrus fruit from her lunch box, setting it directly in the middle of the table. She then slid her lunch over to Akira.

He passed his sushito Riva, then pulled the sandwich from the box, and carefully removed its petrochem wrap. As he bit into it, a dollop of yellow-green quillaroozed from the sandwich, but Akira managed to catch it in his right hand before it dripped onto his clothes.

Wiping his hands on a napkin, he chewed and chewed to clear his mouth of food so he could speak. Riva pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her amusement at his discomfort, but it showed clearly enough in her dimples and blue eyes. Finally, after scraping the roof of his mouth with his tongue, Akira swallowed and felt himself blushing.

Embarrassed, he glanced down at his food. "Forgive me."

Riva slid her left hand onto the back of his right fist. "I'm the one who should ask pardon." She ducked her head in order to see his eyes. "Really, Akira. I apologize." She grinned sheepishly. "I was glad you took the sandwich because I'd never have gotten a quillarstain out of these slacks."