But nowadays, Ezr had other ways to see....He signaled the localizer that sat on his temple. A ghostly vision rose. The colors were just shades of yellow, such as you might see if you pressed your finger firmly against the side of your eye. But the light wasn't random patterns. Ezr had worked long and hard with Pham's exercises. Now the yellow light revealed the curving walls of the balloon membranes and the outer hull. Sometimes the view was distorted. Sometimes the perspective was from beneath his feet or behind his head. But with the right commands, and lots of concentration, he could see where no unaided person could.Pham can still see better. There had been hints, over the years. Nuwen used the localizers like a private empire.

Pham Nuwen was up ahead, standing behind a wall brace, invisible but for the fact that there were localizers beyond him, looking back. As Ezr closed the last few meters' distance between them, his vision wavered as the other swung his tiny servants into a different constellation.

"Okay, make it quick." Pham had stepped out to face him. The yellow pseudo-light painted his face haggard and drawn. He hadn't dropped the Trinli persona? No, this looked like the hangover Pham had shown in the parlor, but there was something deeper to it.

"You—You promised me two thousand seconds."

"Yeah, but things have changed. Or haven't you noticed?"

"I've noticed a lot of things. I think it's time we finally really talked about them. Nau, he truly admires you...you know that, don't you?"

"Nau is full of lies."

"True. But the stories he showed me, some large part of them is true. Pham, you and I have worked together through several Watches now. I've thought about things my aunt and my grand-uncles used to say about you. I'm past the hero worship. Finally, I realize how much you must...love...Focus. You've made me many promises, but they've always been so carefully framed. You want to beat Nau and take back what we lost—but more than anything, you want Focus, don't you?

The silence stretched out for five seconds.To the direct question, whathe will he say? When he finally spoke, his voice was grating: "Focus is the key to making a civilization that lasts—across all of Human Space."

"Focus is slavery, Pham." Ezr spoke the words softly. "Of course, you know that; and in your heart I think you hate it. Zamle Eng—you made him your inner cover story; I think that was your heart crying out to you."

Pham was silent for a second, glaring at him. His mouth twisted. "You're a fool, Ezr Vinh. You read Nau's stories and you still don't understand. I was betrayed once before by a Vinh. It won't happen again. Do you think I'll let you live if you cross me?"

Pham glided closer. Ezr's vision was abruptly snuffed out; he was cut off from all localizer input. Ezr raised his hands, palms up. "I don't know. But I am a Vinh, Sura's direct descendant, and also yours. We are a Family of secrets within secrets; someday I would have been told the truth about Brisgo Gap. But even as a child, I heard little things, hints. The Family has not forgotten you. There's even a motto that we never say on the outside: ‘We owe all to Pham Nuwen; be thou kind unto him.' So even if you kill me, I have to talk to you." Ezr stared into the silent dark; he didn't even know where the other was standing now. "And after yesterday...I think you will listen. I think I have nothing to fear."

"Afteryesterday ?" Pham's voice was angry and near. "My little Vinh snake, what can you possibly know about yesterday?"

Ezr stared out in the direction of the voice. There was something about Pham's voice, a hatred that went beyond reason.What did happen withReynolt? Things were going terribly wrong, but all he had were the words already planned: "You didn't kill her. I believe what Trud said. Killing her would have been easy, and could have looked just as much like an accident. And so I think I know about where Nau's stories are true and where they are lies." Ezr reached out with both arms, and his hands fell on Pham's shoulders. He stared intently into the dark, willing vision. "Pham! All your life you have been driven. That, and your genius, made us what we are. But you wanted more. Quite what, is never clear in the Qeng Ho histories, but I could see it in Nau's records. You had a wonderful dream, Pham. Focus might give it to you...but the price is too high."

There was a moment of silence, then a sound, almost like an animal in pain. Abruptly, Ezr's arms were struck aside. Two hands grabbed him at the throat, viselike and squeezing shut. All that was left was shocked surprise, dimming toward final blackout... .

And then the hands relaxed their pressure. All around him glowbugs flashed stark white light, dozens of tiny popping sounds. He gasped, dazed, trying to understand. Pham was blowing the capacitors in all the nearby localizers! The pinpoint flashes showed Pham Nuwen in bright and black stop action. There was a glittering madness in his eyes that Ezr had never seen.

The lights were farther away now, the destruction spreading outward from them. Ezr's voice came out a terrified croak: "Pham. Our cover. Without the localizers—"

The last of the tiny flashes showed a twisted smile on the other's face. "Without the localizers, we die! Die, little Vinh. I no longer care."

Ezr heard him turn and push off. What was left was darkness and silence—and death that must be no more than Ksecs away. For no matter how hard Ezr tried, he found no sign of localizer support.

What do you do when your dream dies? Pham floated alone in the dark of his room, and thought about the question with something like curiosity, almost indifference. At the edge of his consciousness, he was aware of the ragged hole he had punched in the localizer net. The net was robust. That disruption was not automatically revealed to the Emergent snoops. But without careful revision, news of the failure would eventually percolate out to them. He was vaguely aware that Ezr Vinh was desperately trying to cover the burnout. Surprisingly, the boy had not made things worse, but he had not a prayer of doing the high-level cover-up. A few hundred seconds, at most, and Kal Omo would alert Brughel...and the charade would be over. It really didn't matter anymore.

What do you do when your dream dies?

Dreams die in every life. Everyone gets old. There is promise in the beginning when life seems so bright. The promise fades when the years get short.

Butnot Pham's dream. He had pursued it across five hundred light-years and three thousand years of objective time. It was a dream of a single Humankind, where justice would not be occasional flickering light, but a steady glow across all of Human Space. He dreamed of a civilization where continents never burned, and where two-bit kings didn't give children away as hostages. When Sammy had dug him out of the cemeterium at Lowcinder, Pham was dying, butnot the dream. The dream had been bright as ever in his mind, consuming him.

And here he hadfound the edge that could make the dream come true: Focus, an automation deep enough and smart enough to manage an inter-stellar civilization. It could create the "loving slaves" whose possibility Sura had made jest of. So what if it was slavery? There were far greater injustices that Focus would banish forever.

Maybe.

He had looked away from Egil Manrhi, now scarcely more than a scanning device. He had looked away from Trixia Bonsol and all the others, locked for years in their tiny cells. But yesterday, he'd been forced to look upon Anne Reynolt, standing alone against all the power of Focus, spending her life to resist that power. The particulars had been a great surprise to Pham, but he had been fooling himself to think that such was not part of the price for his dream. Anne was Cindi Ducanh writ large.