She looked smug. “A sign of our good faith, brother. It was I who sent the message telling where it was.”
“I see,” he said wearily.
“We could have taken it ourselves, but we wanted it and you both.”
“And anything else I can bring.”
“Yes.”
She pulled no punches here, and it was her greatest selling point. He looked at Miranda, fresh and young on the screen, his older sister; and he looked at his brothers who waited so carefully to see how this negotiation would turn out.
Miranda: Her expression would not greatly change, he knew, whether he refused or accepted; and by that, he could see what she was offering. Consistency. Comprehension. The blessed relief of not forever having to explain oneself. No more sidelong glances when he gave some incorrect response in the human give-and-take. And no more of being blamed for doing what was sensible, and no more trying to unpick the convoluted motives of these people, no more trying to read their damned cues about hatred and the expectations of duty and the availability of sex. When Miranda had something to say to him, she would say it.
He was very aware of Keylinn and Spider standing close by, and even of Adrian somewhere up on court deck. They were nervous and vital, like campfires burning on a dark night, their life force showing in his peripheral vision as though on an infrared strip. Easy to destroy. And behind Miranda’s image, the cold impersonality of the stars. If he went with her, he would live in a world of clarity.
And, he thought, he might never be warm again.
He considered sabotaging the Diamond, and the thought did not greatly bother him. Could it even be done? How much control had he been allowed over the external weaponry? He activated the live-weapons switch, and Spider stepped forward, shocked.
“Hey!” said Spider.
The control spoke through the link. “These switches can only be activated in the event of war. The signature of the Protector is necessary.”
Tal turned to Spider. “Lie to it,” he said, pointing at the link. “Tell it we’re at war.”
Keylinn said, “If we’re at war, it’ll use live rounds.”
“Look,” said Spider, “I try to be obliging. But there are limits, you know? I may have been a ghost, but I’m still a Diamond citi—” He cut himself off, staring at Tal’s Keith pistol. “I’m not really authorized to declare war, you know,” he finished in an entirely different voice.
“Use Adrian’s key signature. I’ve seen you duplicate it hundreds of times.”
“That was as an intellectual exercise!”
Tal said mildly, “Get some exercise. You look sickly.” He touched the pistol to Spider’s neck, and Spider shivered.
“I’m too nervous,” he said.
“You’re at your best under pressure,” replied Tal. He addressed the link. “Official notice from Chief Minister of Security, check my voice: a state of war has been declared. The signature of Adrian Mercati to follow.” Spider sat down and took up the pen. The link-screen dissolved to a soft gray, waiting.
“One chance only,” said Tal.
Spider intoned the word “Hell” in a voice of doom. “I knew I was going there.” And he signed it quickly, with the flourish Adrian always put in.
“Accepted,” said the link.
Tal threw the live-weapons switch.
Miranda still watched with interest from the screen. “I take it this means yes,” she said. “If you wish to bring the forger, you may; we can sell him, too.”
“I always knew—” Spider muttered.
Tal glanced at the holomap, where the glowing numbers froze for reading every five seconds and then continued their constant shuffle.
“—straight to hell,” said Spider.
Several communications operators were looking toward them curiously; they sensed something was happening, but they had heard none of the audio transmission. Tal went to the Security Chief’s console; his hands moved quickly over the board. “Can you track that?” he asked the link.
“I have it now,” the link replied.
“Keylinn, take the shooter’s seat.” He pointed to a seat at a nearby console.
Keylinn took it, but said, “I’m not familiar with these controls.”
“It’s not necessary. They were designed for our own fighters, fine Christian knights of limited intelligence. When the circle turns black, you hit the activate button.”
She nodded. Tal said, “Cannon fire. Five point nine.”
“Performed.”
As the link spoke, Keylinn’s circle turned black. She hit the button.
Her head swung up to look at the comm-screen. It had gone blank.
“Target?” inquired Tal.
The link replied, ‘Target has sustained minor damage, and is leaving periphery of the Diamond at a rate of twenty-six point eight over three.”
“In other words,” said Keylinn, “it took off like a scalded cat.” Her voice was shaking very slightly, and she wiped the palms of her hands on her breeches.
“Is that good?” asked Spider. He turned to Keylinn and pulled up a cocky grin. “I take it this means no, lady,” he said, addressing the absent Miranda. Then he frowned. “You scared the hell out of me!” he yelled at Tal. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?”
“I hadn’t made up my mind,” said Tal simply.
“Christ!” yelled Spider. If anything, the reply brought more color to his face. He turned and stomped out of the War Room.
Tal put the switch back into practice mode. Keylinn said, “Why the forgery?”
“Adrian wouldn’t have wanted me to shoot at
