Sentiment. Good God.

"Reseune," Giraud said, "equally values Emory's distinguished record."

"I'm afraid that part will get out. The azi, you know. Once the public knows that, there's hardly any way you can hide it. But damage control is already in operation. State is onto it."

"Harad knewabout this operation?"

"It does fall within State's area of responsibility. Science doesn't make foreign policy. Ourobligation in that consideration is quite different. I do urge you to think—what your contracts are worth. We do notcontract primarily with Bucherlabs. We continue to work with you. We continue to support RESEUNESPACE—even at a cost disadvantage. We expect that relationship to be a mutually satisfactory one—one we hope we can continue."

"I see," Giraud said bitterly. "I see." And after a breath or two: "Ser Secretary, we need that data protected—for more than a dead woman's reputation. To keep Council from blowing this wide open—and destroying any chance of success."

"Now you want our help. You want me to throw myself and my Bureau on the grenade. Is that it? —Let me explain to you, ser, we have otherconsiderations right now, primarily among them a rampant anti-militarism that's feeding on this scandal as it is—which is a critical danger to our national defense, at a time when we're already under budget constraints, at a time when we can't get the ships we need and we can't get the problem of expanded perimeters through the heads of the public or the opposition of Finance in Council. We have a major problem, ser, your project has become a sink into which money goes and nothing emerges, and, dammit, you want us to stand and shield you from inquiry while you refuse our requests for records. I suggest you defend yourself,ser—with Reseune's well-known resources. Maybe it's time to bring this project of yours put. Make a choice. Give me a reasonI can useto maintain that data as Classified—or give me the records I need."

"She's not ready, my God, not now,in the middle of scandal that touches her predecessor. She's a six-year-old kid, she can't handle that land of attack—"

"It's your problem," Lu said, folding his hands, settling into that implacable, bland stare. "We don't know, frankly, ser, if we haveanything to protect. For all you've been willing to demonstrate to us, it is another Bok clone."

"I'll show you records."

"Bok's clone was quite good as a child. It was later the problems manifested. Wasn't it? And unless you're willing to go public with the child and give me a reason to clamp down on the records—I can't extend that protection any further than I have."

"Dammit, you leave us vulnerable and they'll find us the door that leads to your own territory."

"Through yours,I think. You were very active in Reseune administration in those years. Can it be—those records you defend—lay the blame to you, ser?"

"That's your guess. It may shine light where a good many people don't want it."

"So we direct the strike, don't we? It's always useful to know what you've left open for attack. I'm sorry it has to be in your territory. But I certainly won't leave it in mine."

"If you'll apply a little patience—"

"I prefer the word progress,which, quite truthfully, I find lacking in Reseune lately. We can discuss this. I am prepared to discuss it. But I think you'll understand I am inflexible on certain points. Cooperation is very essential just now. If we do not have a reason to withhold those records, we must provide those records. You must understand—we have to provide something to the inquiry. And soon."

One did. One sat and one listened while the Defense proxy,damn him to hell, laid out Gorodin's program for, as he called it, damage control.

A proposal for scientific and cultural cooperation with Alliance. Coming from Defense via the Science Bureau.

An official expression of regret from the Council in joint resolution, made possible by the release of selected documents by the present administration of Reseune, indicating Bogdanovitch, Emory, and Azov of Defense, all safely deceased, collaborated in the planning of the Gehenna operation.

Damnhim.

"We'll see to Warrick," Lu said. "Actually—allowing him conference with his son might have some benefit right now. Monitored, of course."

viii

"Justin?"The voice came from the other end, Jordan's voice, his father's voice, after eight years; and Justin, who had steeled himself not to break down, notto break down in front of Denys, on whose desk-phone the call came, bit his lip till it bled and watched the image come out of the break-up on the screen—a Jordan older, thinner. His hair was white. Justin stared in shock, in the consciousness of lost years, and mumbled: "Jordan—God, it's good to see you. We're fine, we're all fine. Grant's not here for this one, but they'll let him next time. . . ."

". . . You're looking fine,"Jordan's voice overrode him, and there was pain in his eyes. "God, you've grown a bit, haven't you? It's good to see you, son.

Where's Grant?"

Time-delay. They were fifteen seconds lagged, by security at either end.

"You're looking good yourself." O God,the banalities they had to use, when there was so little time. When there was everything in the world to say, and they could not, with security waiting to break the connection at the first hint of a breach of the rules. "How's Paul? Grant and I are living in your apartment, doing real well. I'm still in design—"

A lift from Denys' hand warned him. No work discussions. He stopped himself.

". . . A little grayer. I know. I'm not doing badly at all. Good health and all that. Paul too. Damn, it's good to see your face. . . ."

"You can do that in a mirror, can't you?" He forced a little laugh. "I hope I do look that good at the same age. Got a good chance, right? —I can't report much—" They won't let me. "—I've been keeping busy. I get your letters." Cut to hell. "I really look forward to them. So does—"

His father grinned as the joke got through. "You're my time machine. You've got a good chance. . . . I get your letters too. I keep all of them."

"So does Grant. He's grown too. Tall. You could figure. We're sort of left hand and right. We look out for each other. We're doing fine."

"You weren't going to catch him. Not the way he was growing. Paul's gone gray too. Rejuv, of course. I'm sorry. I was absolutely certain I'd told you in the letters. I forget about it. I'm too damn lazy to dye it."

Meaning the censors had cut the part it was in, damn them.

"I think it looks pretty good. Really. You know everything looks pretty much the same at home—" Not elsewhere. "Except I miss you. Both of you."

" I miss you too, son. I really do. They're signing me I've got to close down now. Damn, there's so much to say. Be good. Stay out of trouble."

"You be good. We're all right. I love you."

The image broke up and went to snow. The vid cut itself off. He bit his lips and tried to look at Denys with dignity. The way Jordan would have. "Thanks," he said.

Denys' mouth made a little tremor of its own. "That's all right. That went fine. You want a tape? I ran one."

"Yes, ser, I would like it. For Grant."

Denys ejected it from the desk recorder and gave it to him. And nodded to him. Emphatically. "I'll tell you: they're watching you very closely. It's this Gehenna thing."