“Thank you sir, I’m most grateful.”
“Not at all.”
He cut the connection and returned to his list of Blackout preparations. It was several minutes later that he was called again.
“Communications, sir.”
“What now?” he asked, and reprimanded himself mentally. “Yes, what is it?” he said, with a touch more mildness.
“Sir, I put through that transmission to the War Room ... but it’s changed protocol standards. We can’t monitor it.”
“You don’t need to monitor it, son, it’s hardly urgent.”
“But I ought to be able to, and I can’t.”
Adrian froze. Then he said, “Link, prime command. Patch through the communication now taking place between the War Room and outside craft.”
The link said, “I cannot comply with that request. A seal has been put on the sight-and-sound access.”
“Where was the seal applied?”
“The War Room.”
He cursed softly. “Wait a minute. Link, prime command. Can you give me a printed readout of all words exchanged in this transmission?”
“Yes.”
“Do it now.” A minor mistake, but then they hadn’t had much time. Paper began rolling from the other side of his link. He picked up and started to read, his fingers tightening on the page.
“I’m told you have pieces of art you want to dispose of.”
Tal stood by the link in the War Room. Keylinn was flipping idly though a report while Spider had gone over to peer into the holomap again.
“Officer Diamond?” The woman’s voice was clear and young.
“Yes.”
“Have you a visual circuit at your end?”
Most links didn’t, but this was the War Room, where exact communication was important. “Yes. I don’t know if it can translate your protocol, though.”
“Switch it on.”
He did so. A screen on the wall above the communications operators sprang to life. He saw a woman there; in fact, he saw the same young woman who’d approached him outside the Residence that night.
She was no longer in Baret Two-style clothes; she wore a green jersey and her dark hair was pulled to the top of her head, where it fell in a mass down her back. Her skin tone was lighter than it had been. He stared warily. Keylinn had somehow appeared beside him, and she said, “It’s Miranda.”
Spider’s interest had been caught as well. He dropped down from the edge of the holomap, winced as the force of his weight hit his feet, and limped to join them. “It’s her,” he said. “She was working for the Minister of Truth.”
Tal continued to stare. Presently he said, “And for a number of other people, I surmise.”
Miranda smiled. Her teeth were as perfect as the rest of her. “How good of you not to make me explain.”
“You’re one of the Republic’s agent provocateurs. That’s why you encouraged me to add to Duke Peter’s treasury.”
“Very true.” She was certainly unembarrassed by the fact.
“Do you realize,” said Tal conversationally, “that with only the firepower within twenty meters of me, I could blow your ship away?”
“I want you to realize it. Perhaps then you’ll be willing to listen to me.”
He tapped one finger, once, against the link-top. Then he said, “I’m listening.”
“Can you restrict access to our conversation? I can scramble from here and give you the key, but it would be easier—”
“Security override,” said Tal to the link. “Seal this communication from third party access, audio and visual both.”
“Accomplished.”
“Well?” he said to her.
“Don’t you see?” she asked. “We come from the same place you do, don’t you understand yet? We’re the others.”
The angle of view widened to show four young men standing behind her. Hair shades varied but they were all light-skinned and beardless. One nodded politely. They gazed out from the screen with detached interest.
Grouped this way, there was a similarity of feature that suggested a closer relationship than simply one of species. A similarity that Tal shared.
His face had lost color. “Prove it,” he said. “Show me your eyes.”
“Show you ... ? Ah, I see,” said Miranda. “You’re wearing colored lenses. Ours are transplants. We operated on each other; we can operate on you, too, if you like.” Tal was silent. She went on. “We spoke once before of Belleraphon. Of course you were interested, being the only one and the youngest. We at least had each other for company, brother—”
“Don’t call me that. I don’t know you.”
She was unoffended. “We can remedy that. All of us here have met Belleraphon; in fact, it was he who sent us.”
“Crap, you’re from Belleraphon. Shit, you’re from Belleraphon.” Keylinn was standing beside Tal and she saw his fingers move slightly toward the “Activate Live Weapons” switch; this alarmed her almost as much as the unaccustomed profanity. She actually took hold of his arm.
“Adrian said to negotiate.”
“Adrian doesn’t know what he’s dealing with!” Miranda said coolly, “We won’t discuss family if it upsets you.”
“I’m not upset.” He glared at the screen. “Why are you here?”
“We’ve been searching for you for years now, Tal. Not as actively as we might—we do have tasks of our own to do. But we travel a great deal. We came on your tracks once or twice in other sectors—the Aphean universe is a small one, it seems.”
“Congratulations. You’ve found me.”
“Yes, so we have.” She leaned back and inspected him, with interest if without affection. “And now we’d like to offer you a place with us. As an equal partner. All profits to be shared six ways.”
He froze in place, like an animal that hears a twig break somewhere in the woods. “Why?”
“Why not?” She shrugged. “Another set of abilities is always useful. And I think you’ll find life with us … more easy than with humans.”
He stood there, thinking. Spider watched him closely. Then Tal said, “What else?”
“Yes.” Miranda smiled again. “There an entrance fee. Make yourself valuable to us, Tal. Did I hear you referred to as a Security Chief earlier?”
“You may have. That is my post.”
“How delightful. Does it give you override privileges on the City’s weapons?”
“By the rules it ought to. I haven’t tested it.”
“Well, then.” Miranda looked
