The Chosen

severe production problems, their labor force doesn't want to work, but they're also experienced at that. If they can complete their latest shipbuilding cycle, our margin of superiority will be severely reduced.'

He shrugged. 'For the next two years, we have a margin of naval superiority that will remain steady or increase. After that, I can give no assurances.'

He looked at his sons and shrugged again. If the Premier requested an analysis within his area of expertise, Maurice Farr would give it.

Jeffrey coughed. 'Well, Mr. Premier, the thing is that while the Gothic Line enables the enemy to regain some freedom of action, it does the same for us-and sooner.'

The Premier looked at him sharply. Jeffrey went on: 'They're not going to come out of those fortifications at us, not after going to that much trouble, and not as long as we maintain a reasonable force facing them. That means we can pull most of our experienced divisions out of the line, recruit them back up to strength, and put the new formations in facing the enemy. That'll give them experience; we don't have to put in full-scale assaults to do that, just patrol aggressively. And so we will have a strategic reserve, and sooner than they will. They don't dare thin their force facing us until those works are complete.'

The Premier leaned back in his chair. He'd gotten his start in radical politics-and fought several duels with political opponents and what he considered slanderous journalists, back when that was still legal in some of the western provinces. John reminded himself not to underestimate the man; he was not just the pugnacious bull-at- a-gate extremist some made him out. Plenty of brains behind the shrewd little eyes, and plenty of nerve.

'So,' he said. 'You think that we can do something with this strategic reserve of yours, in the two years during which we have. . what is the military phrase?'

'Window of opportunity, Mr. Premier,' the military men said.

'Your window of opportunity?' the Premier continued.

'Yes, sir,' Jeffrey said. From our window of opportunity to my window of opportunity? he thought. Well, that certainly makes it plain who's to blame if anything goes wrong.

He is a politician, Jeff, Raj thought. A brief mental image, of Raj lying facedown on a magnificent mosaic floor, while a man stood above him shouting, dressed in magnificent metallic robes that blazed under arc lights. I know the breed.

The political leader looked back at Maurice Farr. 'What do you say, Admiral?'

'We have to take some action in the next two years,' he said with clinical detachment. 'As I said, for that period, our strength will increase relative to theirs. But they control three-quarters of the planet's useful land area, resources, and population now; while it'll take time for them to make use of what they've grabbed, eventually they will. Then the balance of forces will start to swing against us. Naval and otherwise.'

Most of the military men around the table nodded, reluctantly.

The Premier leaned his elbows on the table, closed one hand into a fist and clasped the other over it, and leaned his chin on his knuckles. The pouched eyes leveled on Jeffrey. 'Tell me more,' he said.

'Well, sir. .' he began.

* * *

The elevator was still functioning when the meeting broke up. 'God damn, but I hope there aren't any leaks in that bunch,' John said, waiting with his foster brother while the first loads went up.

'That's why I confined myself to generalities,' Jeffrey replied, yawning. 'I can remember when these late nights were a pleasure, not something that made your eyes feel as if they'd been boiled, peeled and dredged in cayenne pepper.'

John shook his head. 'Useful generalities, though,' he fretted.

Jeffrey grinned slightly and punched his arm. 'Bro, there's no way we can stop the Fourth Bureau or Militarische Intelligenz from finding out our capabilities, he said. 'And from that, deducing our general intentions. What we have to do is keep the precise intentions secret. It'll all depend on that.'

John nodded unhappily. 'I still don't like it.'

'Of course not,' Jeffrey said, his voice mock-soothing. 'You're a spook. You're not happy unless you know everything about everybody and nobody else knows anything at all.'

The elevator rattled to a stop at the bottom of the shaft, and the sliding-mesh doors opened. They stepped in; the little square was decorated in the red plush carpet, mirrors, and carved walnut of the upper part of the Executive Mansion, not like the utilitarian warrens beneath added in the years before the war. The attendant pushed the doors closed and reached for the polished wood and brass of the lever that controlled it.

'Ground floor, I presume, gentlemen?' he said, with a slight Imperial accent.

John nodded, and said in the man's own language, 'How is it up top, Mario?'

The elevator operator grinned at the patron who'd found him this job. 'Bad, signore,' he replied. 'The tedeschi swine are out in force tonight. God and Mary and the Saints keep you safe.'

'Amen,' John said, and took his cigarette case out of his jacket. The cigarillos within were dark with a gold band; he offered it to the other men, then snapped his lighter.

The smoke was rich and pungent. 'Sierran,' Jeffrey said. 'Punch-punch claros. We won't be seeing any more of those for a while.'

The elevator operator nodded somberly. 'The tedeschi have gone mad there, signore,' he said. 'They act as beasts in the Empire, but now in the Sierra. .'

'I think they're mad with frustration,' John said. 'Ciao, Mario. My regards to your family.'

'Signore. And many thanks for Antonio's scholarship.'

'He earned it.'

'Is there anywhere you don't have them stashed?' Jeffrey said, as they walked out to the entrance-the nonceremonial one, for unofficial guests.

'It never hurts to have friends in. .' John began, as they accepted hat and cane, uniform cap, and swagger stick, from the attendant. Then he paused on the polished marble of the steps. 'Shit.'

They both stopped on the uppermost stair. The Executive Mansion had an excellent hilltop site. From here they could see for miles: darkened streets, the swift flicker of emergency vehicle headlights with the top halves painted black to make them less visible from above. Fires burned out of control down by the canals and the riverside warehouses, blotches of soft light amid the blackout darkness. Searchlights probed upward like fingers, like hands reaching for the machines that tormented the city below, sliding off the undersides of clouds and vanishing in the gaps between. Every few seconds an antiaircraft gun would fire, a flicker of light and a flat brraack, then the shell would burst far above, sometimes lighting a cloud from within for an instant. When they finally fell silent, sirens spoke all over the great city, a rising-falling wail that signaled the 'all clear.' As they died, the lesser sirens of fire engines could be heard, and the clangor of bells.

'And now they'll sleep for a little while,' John said softly. 'Those that can. Tomorrow they'll get out of bed and go to work.'

Jeffrey nodded. 'You're right. Center's right, this is hurting the Chosen more than us. . but it's got to stop, nevertheless.'

Harry Smith was waiting in the car; dozing, actually, with his head resting on his gloved hands. He woke as the two men approached. 'Sorry, sir, Mr. Jeffrey.'

'Why the hell weren't you in the shelter?' John asked, his voice hovering between resignation and annoyance.

'Wanted to keep an eye on the car,' Smith said.

John sighed. 'Home.'

Home was in the North Hill suburbs, beyond Embassy Row. There was little direct damage there; no factories, and none of the densely packed working-class housing common further south on the bank of the river, or across it. The streetlights were still blacked out, and so were the houses. The steamcar slid quietly through the darkened streets, passing an occasional Air Raid Precautions patrol, helmeted but with no uniforms beyond armbands-many of them were Women's Auxiliary volunteers. Once, an ambulance went by with its bell clanging, and once, they had to detour around a random hit, a great crater in the middle of the street with water hissing ten