“All the same, somebody killed the first Ari,” Amy said grimly, “and we’re not going to lose the second.”

“I appreciate that vote,” Ari said with a little laugh.

“Was it Denys that did it?” Amy asked, and that didn’t deserve a laugh. “Did we get them all? Or do we have to worry about Hicks and Yanni now?”

“I hope not,” she said, “but I think about it. I do think about it.”

“What matters,” Catlin said, “isn’t all who. It’s why. Does the whystill exist?”

There was another small silence.

“Power,” Amy said. “It was about power. The question is on what scale. Jordan wanting out. Or Denys wanting in.”

It was a little creepy, sitting and listening to your best friends figuring who’d want to kill you. “There’s a long list,” Ari said. “Power’s one. Revenge, in her case, maybe. But no, I don’t count it solved. I’m quite sure Jordan didn’t do it.”

“You moved him into Wing One.”

“Justin did, actually. And Jordan’s behaving himself pretty well. He wrote a tape‑set that’s driving me crazy, because I think there isn’ta bug in it. I’m sure he’s laughing. And if there is and I just fail to find it–” She let her voice trail off and gave a shrug. “Better in Wing One, which is watched, than over in Ed with all the traffic. Construction’s starting in Wing One. Remodeling all over the Wing. It’s not going to be very active for the next year. But by the time we’re through, it’ll be up to the standard we hope to set. So, for that matter, will Strassenberg. Every place we build, we do it right the first time.”

“Are we sure about that company?” Will asked.

“Fourstar, which is doing Wing One? They got a good contract and don’t have to live in bunkers. Soft job, comparatively. They shouldn’t be discontent. But we’ll just have a deeper look, as Catlin says.”

“So are you going to go after remodeling Ed, next?”

“It’s not as bad as Wing One,” Ari said, and shifted in her seat, thinking, I won’t have that much time, that much budget. “We’re going to have to earn our way into the next major project, though.”

“We cost a lot.” Mika said. “A whole lot. This place is incredible.”

“You earn it.” Ari said. “You’re important. Whatever you’re doing, you see things, you hear things, you say things. Just never, never forget you’re tied to me, more conspicuously than ever in your lives. Be careful. Just be very, very careful about getting into situations, going places alone…that’s the price you pay for this place. Don’t be alone down at the docks, down in the town, down where the security is just a little less. Let my staff know where you’ll be, when you’ll be, just a convenience for Florian and Catlin, Wes and Marco. They track you, in case you’ve never noticed.”

“Who’d care,” Yvgenia laughed, “if I went to my hairdresser?”

“We know you’re there, though,” Ari said soberly. “And if you didn’t show up, we’d know. You’d get a call. If you didn’t answer it, someone would come looking. I don’t say it’ll always be like this, but it will for a while. Expect it. Expect nerves to be pretty taut.”

“Is there a reason we should know?” Maddy asked.

“Just–politics,” Ari said. “The Council election’s about to come down to the wire…they’re going to read the results probably on the twenty‑fifth. We think Spurlin’s got it, but if Khalid should win, that’s a problem. Two different philosophies in the military. Khalid’s not that careful about observing registration when he goes after information–sees no reason he shouldn’t be able to inquire into Science, or Citizens, or just anybody he doesn’t like. Particularly Science. Don’t get me started on Khalid.”

“But Spurlin’s got it.”

“Safely so, we think. He’d have carried Fargone by a big majority, no question, afterthe new Reseune build at Fargone passed in Council, all those jobs going there, and Spurlin was supporting Jacques voting for it in Council while Khalid was up on the station and not really doing much of anything. Unfortunately the vote was already in progress on Fargone before much of that news had gotten there…unfortunate timing, but we’re hearing there was some favorable impact during the last two days of the balloting. Whether any large number of military was excited enough to go in and change their vote before the deadline, I don’t know, but we think the news did help Spurlin.”

“But is there that much military at Fargone?” Mischa asked, and Tommy dug an elbow back this time.

“The whole big hospital installation,” Tommy said. “Which I bet is big enough.”

“It’s a classified major lot of votes, say–partly because it’s supporting an operation out at Eversnow. Trust me, it is large.”

Eyes flickered, simultaneous registry of a tidbit of information on the existing universe.

“The whole military base out there,” Amy said. “Too covert to vote?”

“So far,” Ari said. “They can’t admit they exist. So they can’t vote.”

“You know, when Eversnow goes into official operation,” Amy said, “that’s going to take nearly two years to get a vote through.”

“Going to matter who’s Proxy Councillor‑designate when that happens,” Ari said. “It already does, but it’s going to matter a lot more. I like that argument. I’ll use it on Yanni the next time we have a fight about Eversnow. If humankind goes stringing off down Yanni’s route to new stars, we’re going to have elections that last a lifetime. God! That’s more entertainment than the universe needs.”

“Just cross our fingers about Khalid,” Amy said. “I certainly hope you’re right.”

“I hope I am, too,” she said. And meant it. Passionately.

BOOK THREE Section 4 Chapter iii

JULY 18, 2424

1829H

“The office all right?” Jordan had asked, for openers.

“Fine,” Justin had said guardedly.

And all through dinner they hadn’t talked politics, for once. Jordan talked about psychsets. They, Jordan, Grant, Paul and Justin, talked for two hours about design and sets and things that would bore the adjacent tables in Farrell’s to unconsciousness.

It was the best evening they’d had since Jordan had come home.

And it didn’t end in a fight. They walked back via the open air, in balmy night temperatures, walked into Wing One, which lately smelled of paint and plaster, and continued the conversation for a moment in front of the lift, which they hadn’t called.

“Last night you’ll be buying dinner,” Jordan said. “I’m applying to go on salary.”

“Seriously?” That wasn’t the right word. Justin tried to find one, and didn’t.

“I’d expect better than that.”

“Excellent news.” Grant supplied.

“I’m taking refresher tape,” Jordan said. “I’m trusting not to be mind‑bent. So far so good.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it,” Justin said. “Dad, that’s great.”

“All I have to get,” Jordan said, “is your little dear’s approval.”

That wasn’t so great.

“You don’t think I can.”

“What have you sent her? Dad, this isn’t some game, is it?”

“Why in hell would you think it’s a game? I don’t think it’s a game.”

“Dad.” He stopped himself, held up a hand. “I’m glad. All right.”

“Good,” Jordan said, and punched the lift call button. “You can talk her into it.”

“Dad, either your designs will, or I can’t.”

“Oh, I’m sure of my design. I’m very sure of it. How sure are you?”

“Dammit. Just one evening–just one evening can we manage not to have a quarrel–”

The car arrived. Opened. Jordan stepped in. So did Paul. “Want to come upstairs and explain why you won’t back it?”

“I will, dammit. I have to read it first.”

“Those two statements are contradictory,” Jordan said. “Make up your mind, can’t you?”

Jordan had let the button go. The doors shut. The car left, upward bound, and their way was back to the U and the Alpha Wing gateway.

“Damn,” Justin said.

“He has improved, however,” Grant said. And they walked in silence.