"You got it."

Pham was silent for a while. She just didn't understand. "Okay. That is the way things are now. But don't you see the power that this gives you? You hold a high technology across hundreds of light-years of space and thousands of years of time."

"No. That's like saying the sea surf could rule a world: it's everywhere, it's powerful, and it seems to be coordinated."

"You could have a network, like the fleet network you used at Canberra."

"Lightspeed, Pham, remember? Nothing goes faster. I've no idea what traders are doing on the other side of Human Space—and at best that information would be centuries out of date. The most you've seen is networking across theReprise; you've studied how a small fleet network is run. I doubt you can imagine the sort of net it takes to support a planetary civilization. You'll see at Namqem. Every time we visit a place like that, we lose some crew. Life with a planetary network, where you can interact with millions of people with millisecond latencies—that is something you are still blind to. I'll bet when we get to Namqem, you'll leave, too."

"I'll never—"

But Sura was turning in his embrace, her breasts sliding across his chest, her hand sweeping down his belly, reaching. Pham's denial was lost in his body's electric response.

After that, Pham moved into Sura's cruise quarters. They spent so much time together that the other Watch standers teased him for "kidnapping our captain." In fact, the time with Sura Vinh was unending joy to Pham, but it was not just lust fulfilled. They talked and talked and argued and argued...and set the course of the rest of their lives.

And sometimes he thought of Cindi. Both she and Sura had come after him, lifting him to new awareness. They had both taught him things, argued with him, and bedeviled him. But they were as different as summer from winter, as different as a pond from an ocean. Cindi had stood up for him at the risk of her life, stood alone against all the King's men. In his wildest dreams, Pham could not imagine Sura Vinh committing her life against such odds. No, Sura was infinitely thoughtful and cautious. It was she who had analyzed the risks of remaining at Canberra, and concluded that success was unlikely—and persuaded enough others about those risks to wangle a ship from the fleet committee and escape Canberra space. Sura Vinh planned for the long haul, saw problems where no one else could see. She avoided risks—or confronted them with overwhelming force of her own. In Pham's confused moral pantheon, she was much less than Cindi...and much more.

Sura never bought his notion of a Qeng Ho star kingdom. But she didn't simply deny him; she showered him with books, with economics and histories that had eluded his decade-long reading schedule. A reasonable person would have accepted her point; there had been so many "common sense" things that Pham Nuwen had been wrong about before. But Pham still had his old stubbornness. Maybe it was Sura who wore blinders. "We could build an interstellar net. It would just be...slow."

Sura laughed. "Yeah! Slow. Like a three-way handshake would take a thousand years!"

"Well, obviously the protocols would be different. And the usage, too. But it could change the random trading function into something much more, ah, profitable." He had almost saidpowerful, but he knew that would just get him zinged about his "medieval" mind-set. "We could keep a floating database of Customers."

Sura shook her head, "But out of date by decades to millennia."

"We could maintain human language standards. Our network programming standards would outlive any Customer government. Our trading culture could last forever."

"But Qeng Ho is just one fish in a random sea of traders....Oh." Pham could see that he was finally getting through. "So the ‘culture' of our broadcasts would give participants a trading edge. So there would be a reinforcement effect."

"Yes, yes! And we could crypto-partition the broadcasts to protect against nearby competition." Pham smiled slyly. The next point was something that little Pham, and probably Pham's father the King of all Northland, could never have conceived. "In fact, we could even have some broadcasts in the clear. The language standards material, for instance, and the low end of our tech libraries. I've been reading the Customer histories. All the way back to Old Earth, the only constant is the churn, the rise of civilization, the fall, as often as not the local extinction of Humankind. Over time, Qeng Ho broadcasts could damp those swings."

Sura was nodding, a far look settling into her eyes. "Yes. If we did it right, we'd end up with Customer cultures that spokeour language, were molded to our trading needs, and usedour programming environment—" Her gaze snapped up to his face. "You still have empire on the brain, don't you?"

Pham just smiled.

Sura had a million objections, but she had caught the spirit of the idea, recast it into her experience, and now her entire imagination was working alongside his. As the days passed, her objections became more like suggestions, and their arguments more a kind of wondrous scheming.

"You're crazy, Pham...but that doesn't matter. Maybe it takes a crazy medievalist to be so ambitious. It's like...it's like we're creating a civilization out of whole cloth. We can set up our own myths, our own conventions. We'll be in at the ground floor of everything."

"And we'll outlast any competition."

"Lord," Sura said softly. (It would be some time before they invented the "Lord of All Trade" and the pantheon of lesser gods.) "And you know, Namqem is the ideal place to start. They're about as advanced as a civilization can ever get, but they're getting a little cynical and decadent. They have propaganda techs as good as any in human histories. What you're suggesting is strange, but it's trivial compared to ad campaigns on a planetary net. If my cousins are still in Namqem space, I bet they'd bankroll the operation." She laughed, joyous and almost childlike, and Pham realized how badly the fear of bankruptcy and disgrace had bent her down. "Hell, we're gonna turn aprofit !"

The rest of their Watch was a nonstop orgy of imagination and invention and lust. Pham came up with a combination of beamed and broadcast interstellar radio, schedules that could keep fleets and families in synch across centuries. Sura accepted most of the protocol design, wonder and obvious delight in her eyes. As for the human engineering, Pham's scheme of hereditary lords and military fleets—Sura laughed at those, and Pham did not argue the judgment. After all, in people-things he was still scarcely more than a thirteen-year-old medieval.

In fact, Sura Vinh was far more awed than patronizing. Pham remembered their last conversation before he took his first turn in a coldsleep coffin. Sura had been calibrating the radiative coolers, checking the hypothermia drugs. "We'll come out almost together, Pham, me a hundred Ksec before you. I'll be here to help." She smiled and he could feel her gaze gently searching in him. "Don't worry."

Pham made some flippant remark, but of course she saw the uneasiness in him. She spoke of other things as he slipped into the coffin, a running monologue of their plans and daydreams, what they would begin when they finally reached Namqem. And then it was time, and she hesitated. She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips. Her smile turned faintly teasing, but she was mocking herself as much as him: "Sleep well, sweet prince."

And then she was gone, and the drugs were taking effect. It didn't feel cold at all. His last thoughts were a strange floating back across his past. During Pham's childhood on Canberra, his father had been a faraway figure. His own brothers had been lethal threats to his existence. Cindi, he had lost Cindi before he ever really understood. But for Sura Vinh...he had the feeling of a grown child for a loving parent, the feeling of a man for his woman, the feeling of a human being for a dear friend.