Drusni looked over at Pranlo. "He doesn't learn very fast, does he?" she commented.

"You do have to wonder sometimes," Pranlo agreed. "I remember us saying something about friendship. You?"

"Me, too," Drusni said, flipping her tails in a nod. "Maybe he just wasn't listening."

"Come on, this is no time to be funny," Manta snapped. "It was you two who weren't listening. If they catch you with me, you're going to be with me permanently. All of us with our ears bitten off, exiled to who knows where. What happens to you then? What happens to your children then?"

"We'd be in trouble," Drusni agreed, her voice steady. "But that's not going to happen, because you're going to come up with the answer Latranesto wants."

"And what if I don't?" Manta shot back. "Because I sure as the Deep don't know if I can pull this off.

I don't mind risking my own future; I don't even mind risking Latranesto's. But I don't want to risk yours."

"What about the future of the Qanska?" Pranlo asked quietly. "Are you willing to risk that?"

Manta felt his throats tighten. "I already said I was going to do my best."

"Good," Drusni said. "In that case, we're going with you. I don't know how it is with humans, but in my experience Qanska never really do their best alone. It always takes at least two, working together, for each one to achieve that."

"In this case, it takes three," Pranlo put in. "The Three Musketta swim again!"

Manta sighed, his heart aching inside him. "I know you're being serious," he said quietly. "Both of you. And I'll never be able to tell you how much it means to me. But I don't even know what use I'm going to be on this. I can't even begin to guess what kind of help you can be."

"Maybe all we'll do is listen," Drusni said. "A long time ago I told you that talking about a problem with friends was sometimes the best way to solve it."

"Yes, I remember," Manta said reluctantly. "But I doubt this is exactly what you had in mind."

Pranlo snorted. "Oh, come on, Manta. Show me a Qanska who gets to pick his problems, and that's the herd I want to swim with."

"Then it's settled," Drusni said firmly. "Right, Manta?"

Manta sighed again. "It looks like I'm outvoted," he said, giving up. "If you want to know the truth, I would appreciate the company."

"See?" Pranlo said. "Already you're making better decisions."

He flipped his tails and started off again across the wind. "Come on, let's go—we've got a job to do.

The Three Musketta, on their finest adventure yet."

"Yeah," Manta murmured as he turned to follow. "Let's just hope it's not their last."

Early on in his house arrest, pacing restlessly around his increasingly cramped quarters, Faraday's frustration had conjured up images of himself as a prisoner in one of those seventeenth-century period vids he'd loved as a child. He pictured himself locked in the dungeon of some medieval fortress, with only a tiny window available to let in light and air.

Still, mental dramatics aside, he had to admit his position was hardly that desperate. His quarters weren't made of stone, they weren't dank and cold or even particularly uncomfortable, and he certainly hadn't been totally forgotten by the outside world. Hesse's nervously furtive visits proved that much.

And of course, his single window had a scope and power which his seventeenth-century counterpart could never have dreamed of.

The main newsnets, not surprisingly, weren't particularly useful. The public activities and pronouncements of the Five Hundred were duly reported, discussed, and analyzed, but nowhere was there even a hint of the turmoil and power struggles Hesse had said were going on behind the scenes.

But then, Faraday would hardly expect there to be. Secret power struggles were, by definition, secret. Fortunately, the public channels weren't his only resources. Patiently, methodically, he scoured through them, looking for some clue as to what Arbiter Liadof was up to.

And it was on one of the more obscure Sol/Guard data channels that he finally found it.

"I got your message," Hesse said as the ever-present Sanctum cop closed the door of Faraday's quarters behind him. "Is anything wrong?"

"That's the question of the hour," Faraday told him, getting up from his desk chair and gesturing the other to sit down. "The last time you were here you told me that Liadof had been talking with the top Sol/Guard generals, but that you didn't know what all that was about. Right?"

"Right," Hesse said cautiously, settling gingerly into the chair. "Don't tell me you've got it figured out."

"Not all of it, but I think I've found a piece of the puzzle," Faraday said. "Have you ever heard of the Nemesis Project?"

Hesse's eyes narrowed. "That's a multi-megaton nuclear arsenal sitting out in Mars orbit somewhere, right? Set up about fifty years ago as a defense against potential Earth-collision asteroids?"

"That's the one," Faraday nodded. "Or rather, that's the group. Now that we've got so many colonies scattered around, Nemesis isn't a single arsenal anymore but about a dozen stockpiles set up in strategic places around the System."

He leaned over Hesse's shoulder and tapped a spot on the display. "I was sifting through a listing of Sol/Guard daily status reports when I ran across this."

"Wait a second," Hesse said, frowning up at him. "How come you still have access to military infonets?"

"Because I'm still a military officer," Faraday reminded him mildly. "Why shouldn't I have access?"

"I just thought—" Hesse broke off. "No, of course you do. You've never been charged, so none of your clearances have ever been revoked."

"Exactly," Faraday said. "Playing games with the legal structure doesn't always work out exactly the way the player had in mind."

"Indeed." Hesse gestured to the display. "So what exactly am I looking at?"

"The current status report on Nemesis Six," Faraday said, tapping the display again. "Sol/Guard General John Achmadi in command. Formerly of leading Jovian orbit."

Hesse gave him a sideways look. " 'Formerly'?"

"Formerly," Faraday confirmed. "My reading of astrogation data is a little rusty; but as near as I can figure, Nemesis Six is on its way here."

"You've got to be kidding," Hesse said, staring at the display. His voice sounded sandbagged. "It's coming here?"

"Sure looks like it." Faraday lifted his eyebrows slightly. "The question is, what does Arbiter Liadof want with a nuclear weapons platform?"

There was an odd tension around Hesse's eyes as he gazed at the display. "My God," he murmured.

"Well... you tell me. What do you think she could be up to?"

"Well, I doubt she's declaring war on Jupiter Prime," Faraday said dryly. "Aside from that, I haven't got a clue. I take it your reaction means your people haven't heard anything about this?"

Hesse lifted his hands helplessly. "If they have, they haven't said anything to me," he said, starting to sound on balance again. The shock of the revelation must be passing. "I'll get a message to them right away. The implications..." He shook his head.

"Run even deeper than you probably realize," Faraday said. "Are you by any chance familiar with military procedure concerning the transfer of Sol/Guard equipment or personnel?"

Hesse looked up at him, an odd expression on his face. "No. Why?"

"I didn't think you would be," Faraday said. "And I'd bet ocean-front real estate that Arbiter Liadof isn't, either."

He gestured to the display. "General Achmadi is coming here. Presumably to Jupiter Prime; presumably to turn over something or someone under his command to Project Changeling."

"Under authorization from Sol/Guard."

"And after discussing the matter with Liadof and the Five Hundred," Faraday agreed. "That part's all well and good. And I presume that when she talked with Sol/Guard about this, she did so as an agent of the project. Anyone connected with Changeling—you, me, even Mr. Beach—can represent us in making arrangements like that. But."