The pills were small, blue, potent Kalova swallowed three and swore as his reaching hand knocked over the goblet of wine. Too much wine and too many pills, but his strength had to be maintained, his clarity of mind. Tiredness now would cloud his ability and cost him more than he could afford.

Why was the bitch so stubborn?

Attack after attack had been bested and still she continued to fight. And now she was attacking his own holdings in the north. She and other fools who should know better.

The phone and Chargel. "Maximus-N 76 for S 21?"

More interest in the north! "No!"

"For S21 and S15?"

Holdings on the edge of the continental shelf but his own was little better. Yet the fact it was wanted woke suspicion. Chargel was too shrewd to chase barren rock in the storm-torn hills unless he had a good reason.

"No!"

The screen died and Kalova sank back in his chair, watching the dancing signals with eyes grown sore with strain. How long had it been? A glance at the clock could have told him but he had his own measure of time. It had been too long, an age, an eternity, and still there was no sign of an end. Would he have to fight on for the rest of the day? The following night? The day after that? Such tremendous engagements had been known in the past but now were the stuff of legend.

Why the interest in the north?

He scowled as yet another forced auction came into being: Bulem, Dulet, Lancing and Sand. Fools who asked for the punishment they deserved for daring to bait the Maximus. Even as he matched and beat their bids he was assessing their resources. All were minor holders but Sand the most vulnerable. It would be easy to make him an example.

A thing done with the ease of a hammer crushing an ant, his holdings taken at a cost he could meet, arid lands of small revenue. A liability but he would not hold them for long.

"My lord!" Zao's face on the screen. "I have been following the situation and-"

"Not now, Cyber!"

"I would suggest that-"

The voice died as the image faded, both victims of a broken connection. Kalova sat, fuming, hand shaking as he reached for more pills. Did Zao expect him to come whining to heel? To beg the cyber for his aid and so admit his incapability? Did the man think he was too old to have skill? Too old to fight?

He snarled as, again, he was attacked in the north. Three sectors this time and all high in the hills. Too high for comfort and too close to his private installations to be lost. He triggered responses, outbid the opposition, swore as others took their place. Were they all mad? The price they offered was far in excess of the registered value yet they could not all be fools.

The phone and Lynne Oldrant. "Sector F 37, Maximus. How much?"

The field, now of negative revenue. A liability now; he needed liquid assets and he could always get it back later. The woman blinked at his demand and, reluctantly, shook her head.

"Too high, Maximus. Cut it by a third and it's a deal."

"A quarter."

"Done!"

In his office Zao saw the transaction registered on his repeater display, saw too the sudden flurry of renewed activity in the north. More attacks on the Maximus and, like a reactive animal, he could only respond in one way. An emotional cripple now wrapped in a web of self-deception and incapable of objective detachment.

The woman?

Her rejection had been no more than a trigger and it could have come from any other. A denial of Kalova's self-image of supreme authority. A blow at his ego which, in his mental condition, he had interpreted as an attack on his life. To destroy the woman had become of paramount necessity. Old, failing, such a destruction would give him assurance that he was still capable, still strong.

It was time he should be replaced.

Arment? The logical choice but he was too strong. Helm the same. Chargel, Barracola, even Traske. They would accept his aid and promise all and even keep that promise for a while but, later, their own strength would urge them to rebel.

Fiona Velen?

A choice he had considered before and the new factors recently introduced did not alter the basic premise. She was devoid of a potentially troublesome family, young enough to be malleable, intelligent enough to have held her own since inheriting from Carmodyne. Her association with Dumarest presented no real problem; her own narcissism would diminish his importance.

More activity on the display and Zao rose to his feet. Kalova had to be stopped before it was too late.

The woman guarding his outer office was stubborn. "I am sorry but the Maximus is not to be disturbed. He gave explicit orders to that effect."

"This is an emergency."

"For whom?" She didn't like the cyber and took pleasure in showing it. "If he wants to see you he will send word to that effect."

Time wasting which he could not afford. Zao stepped closer to where she sat, the index finger of his left hand extended to touch her wrist, the sliver of metal carried beneath the nail pressing, breaking the skin, driving the drug it carried into her blood. She was dead before he removed his hand.

"You!" Kalova spun in his chair as Zao approached. "I left orders I was not to be disturbed."

"Which I chose to ignore." Zao glanced at the display, noted the changes made while he had journeyed from his office. The space field had changed hands, sold to Fiona Velen for a handsome profit. Something Kalova had missed in his concentration on the northern attacks.

"Look at them, Cyber!" He gestured at the display with a trembling hand. "Like dogs snapping at a bone. All wanting holdings in the north. The north!"

"Why?"

"It's a plot, that's why. A device to attack me, to bring me down. But they'll pay for it. Every last damned one. I'll see them all down and out!"

As Cran and Sand and Bulem would be next. Sacrificed as a warning to others. Once he had gone they would see sense. Cease their attacks and give him time to rest and consider the situation. Give him a chance to take care of the woman.

"No, my lord! Wait!" Zao had seen what the other had overlooked. "Wait!"

Kalova resented the command and ignored it as he pressed home the attack, smiling as he used all his strength to crush the weakling, laughing aloud as he fell-a laugh cut short as the flashing lights ceased their dancing.

"What's wrong? The display-why has it stopped?"

The answer shone back at him from the steady signals; one too many had been eliminated. Cran, Sand, Bulem-and Kalman whom he'd forgotten. Trading had stopped-and Fiona Velen held the field.

Chapter Fourteen

There was wine but Fiona hadn't needed it; the euphoria of victory filled her with its own intoxication. Now, laughing, she lifted her glass to toast her success.

"To you, Earl, and you, Hart. Victory to us all!"

Wine added ruby to her lips, a moistness to their soft invitation, which was reflected in her eyes. Dumarest recognized the biological heat born of the end of tension, the reaction from strain.

He said, "What happens now?"

"Nothing." Fiona set down her wine. "Kalova made a mistake and so froze the situation. We must have the Gross. We started with one hundred and forty-seven. I took out one and the Maximus the other three. That leaves one hundred and forty-three. One short. There can be no trading, no exchanges, no auctions until the Gross has been restored."

"The way's open for challenges," explained Vardoon. "Usually one is picked but any can go forward. And any holder can be challenged. Of course they can use a champion, but the facts remain." He frowned, looking thoughtful. "You, Earl. Why not you?"

"I'm not of the Orres."

"No. I'd forgotten. A shame-you could have been the next Maximus."