Truer words were never spoken.The Archon laughed. "So, would we have difficulty creating a substitute for someone?"

Johnson shook his head. "Not at all. We could not, and would not, enslave a mind as Liao did. An actor, for example, could slip into a role well enough to handle 99 percent of the matters a leader must handle. With the proper delegation of authority, the realm might not even notice the hand of a temporary leader at the helm."

Johnson smiled and reached for another folder. "I took the liberty, Archon, of bringing this with me." He opened it and looked up at her. "Whom did you have in mind for the creation of a double? Loki agents can pick up any of the people in the files today."

"As ever, you have anticipated me." Katrina whispered the name of her candidate. Johnson licked his thumb, paged through blue and yellow sheets of paper, then stopped. He smiled. "Oh, yes, we have some excellent candidates .. ."

* * *

Jeana Clay coasted the racing bicycle down the final hill as she pulled her water bottle free of the bike's frame and squirted some of the warm liquid into her mouth. Savoring the water, she sprayed the rest over her face and down her arms. A quick glance at her watch brought a smile. Knocked thirty seconds off that last leg,she thought, well-pleased with herself. Her smile continued to light up her pretty face as she hunkered down and pedaled the bike up the last little rise and into the driveway of the house where she had lived alone since her mother's death.

Old Mr. Tompkins looked up from trimming his shrubs and waved at her. "Getting faster, Jeana. You'll surely win this year's Tharkad Triathlon!"

"Thanks, Mr. Tompkins, for your confidence." She stopped the cycle and swung off. She slid it into the anti-theft rack that she'd welded together herself years ago, then straightened up to her full height and walked back to where the older man stood. "I just hope my unit doesn't have exercises that weekend."

Tompkins smiled and looked almost cherubic. "They won't, child, and I have a feeling it would take more than that to keep youfrom that race."

Jeana peeled the fingerless gloves from her hands and nodded. "Yeah, my CO is pretty good about letting me race. I think he feels that my wins reflect well on the 24th Lyran Guards, being as we're such an untried unit."

Tompkins winked. "I knew Lieutnant-Colonel Orpheus Thomas when he was a lad, before he wandered off to Donegal to recruit all of you MechWarriors for his unit. He's a proud man, and I can tell that he appreciates what you do for the unit."

The tall, slender MechWarrior smiled. She grabbed her riding jersey by the shoulders and gently tugged at it while making a face. "I'm going to change out of these sweaty things and catch a shower." Jeana began to walk away, but turned back long enough to add, "I'll let you know if I'm going to be able to race."

At her own door, Jeana slipped a mag-key from the waistband of her riding shorts and inserted it into the lock. The door clicked and she ducked inside. The cooler, which she had not set particularly low, had made the house positively arctic. When she double-checked the thermostat, however, the dial still sat where she'd left it. Below the thermostat, the lights on house alarm system all glowed reassuringly green.

Jeana passed through the kitchen and jogged up the stairs, barely glancing at the closed door of the master bedroom before entering the sanctuary of her own room. It's silly, Jeana. There's no reason why you shouldn't move into that room.She sat on the bed to untie her shoes. Keeping the room as a shrine to your mother won't bring her back.

Jeana shook her head and forced herself to abandon that line of thought. She'd covered it before, many times, and all the "what ifs" and "I should haves" could not reverse what had happened to her mother. Yet, Jeana could not shake the feeling that if she hadbeen home that night, no intruder would ever have killed her mother.

Jeana pulled off her blouse, wadded it up into a ball, and tossed it into a basket. Socks, shorts, and underclothes quickly arched after it. Then she stood, stretched, and went into the cleaner to start the shower running. As steam filled the small, white-tiled room, Jeana flicked on the radio to listen to something other than her own sad thoughts.

As Jeana stepped into the shower, she was unaware of the door of the cleaner opening behind her. With her eyes closed and water rushing over her face, it was only the cool draft of the shower curtain being pulled aside that alerted her to danger. She turned from the watery spray and stared in horror at the hooded intruder.

Loki!The thought burst into Jeana's mind like an inferno rocket as she caught sight of the emblem on his collar. She balled her left fist and swung at the intruder without thinking, but her feet slipped and she started to fall. What is someone from State Terrorism doing here after so long? How did they find me?

The Loki operative's first dart missed Jeana's falling body, and her aborted punch forced him to step back. She broke her fall by tearing a faucet handle from the shower and gathering her long legs beneath her. She uncoiled and hit the agent with a tackle that smashed him back into the handbasin. He grunted, then spun away out of her grasp.

Jeana grabbed a towel and threw it at him. It unfolded like a JumpShip's solar collector and prevented the agent's second dart from hitting her. He continued to back away out into the hall, and Jeana dove at his legs. Her wet feet slipped at the last, draining her attack of much of its power, but the fury and anger born of guilt over her mother's death more than compensated for it.

Her shoulder hit the intruder in the shins, and she gathered his ankles in a savage hug. Unbalanced, the agent flailed helplessly with one hand, but failed to grab the stair railing. He crashed down the stairs, careening from side to side, and then lay very still.

Jeana gathered herself up on hands and knees, then felt a sting against her right buttock. Numbness spread like a blush, and her nerveless limbs refused to support her anymore. She fell to her left and stared up at the man silhouetted in the master bedroom's doorway. "Yes," she heard him say, "an excellent candidate." In her befuddled state, Jeana could make no sense of those words at all.

* * *

The air-ambulance driver smiled reassuringly at Mr. Tompkins as two white-suited medics gently lifted the stretcher into the back of the craft. "Don't worry, Mr. Tompkins. You did the right thing in calling us when you heard her crash down the stairs. She's very lucky to have a concerned neighbor like you."

The older man shook his head as Jeana vanished into the air-ambulance. "She's so young .. . only twenty-five. First, her mother dies, then this." He frowned. "A heart attack, you say?"

The driver nodded. "Stress-induced, but really secondary to some damage done when she caught Yeguas fever while training with the 24th last year. It'll normally leave folks alone, but one in a million develop a heart defect." The driver shrugged. "It's in the doctors' hands now."

The driver turned to leave, but Mr. Tompkins grabbed his wrist. "You'll let me know where they've taken her? I'll visit."

The driver laid his hand over that of the older man and patted it warmly. "I'll keep you informed. Remember, if you hadn't called, she might not even have the chance she's got now. The Commonwealth needs more citizens like you."

11

Tharkad