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him which are left are too small to be collected. However, if she should flee
Kerrion space into yours, and your august protec-
tion, there would be nothing I could do about it. Of course, she would have no
claim to any of her Kerrion assets, in such a hypothetical case. The younger
children she gave my father could then make their own choice. I
am an arbiter, as you reminded me; the stigma of the mother need not
necessarily extend to her offspring.
They might find, however, that if they chose to join her elsewhere, they would
do so as paupers."
"Don't you think you are being a little hard on
Ashera?"
"Old man, she came to me before the fact and told me she was going to
eliminate Spry." This harsh whisper was preceded by a red light and low hum
coaxed from his wrist array: interrupter circuitry. "I have told no one but
you; hearsay evidence only muddles these things. If you have serious
intentions toward Ashera, you should know that everything you have heard about
her is true, no mat-
ter how unlikely such horrible rumors seem when in her presence."
"I appreciate your concern. Consul, but I assure you, I
do know all I need to know and I am more than capable of enduring any risk I
should decide to take." His laugh-
ing, tiny eyes said truer: What's the trouble, little boy? Is the real world
too ugly for your refined arbitrational sen-
sibilities? Out loud could be heard only; "Let us discuss these new cruisers,
and perhaps you could explain in clearer detail what pitfalls their
manufacture has been undertaken to avoid. My pilots seem perfectly content
with the old-type Kerrion cruisers they have now. Is this a canny bit of
market manipulation, perhaps planned obsolescence?"
"Ah, but are you content with your pilots? That seems to be Chaeron's point.
The Kerrion series I myself am still producing has been equipped wih add-on
capabilities which will be seen to rival the convenience-group fea-
.turcs of the AXVs."
"Even in communications?"
110
JANET MORRIS
"Communications? I don't know. I haven't looked at the specs. Tell me what
their claims are in detail, and I'll tell you if I can match their projected
performance. I as-
sure you, I can better their price per vehicle."
Absently, Marada Kerrion sparred with Bucyrus, an-
ticipating a distant rumble, the sound of running feet, the throaty mutter of
a crowd. He had promised Hooker he would wait and be surprised by what his
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agent had ar-
ranged. Whatever it was that Hooker had planned, it promised to thoroughly
embarrass Chaeron (if his tardi-
ness had not already done so) and further Marada's de-
termination that this post would be his little brother's last.
He spied Penrose, hurrying to embrace Lauren. The pilot had ducked in, now out
again, through a keystone arch leading toward the east wing, not even pausing
to take glass in hand.
He stopped a staffer in red-and-blacks and ordered him to bring Lauren to
where he "chatted" with Bucyrus.
The dream dancer was involved in this, deeply so. He had seen Penrose's
feigned kiss. Some message had been passed. He would find out what it was.
Meanwhile, his cruiser's voice chimed in his inner ear, telling him that the
cruiser Marada and the cruiser Danae were in op-
timum-security commmunication, and that several other
Acheron cruisers had been put on "alert" status and asked to take up orbital
coordinates. Some of these, guided through the other cruisers and under
Penrose's orders, had no pilots on board!"
Chaeron was listening to Jesse Thome. In his east tur-
ret's study, the double doors were open to the balcony,
and to the temperature-moderated night. The lights were down, so that the
crystalline ways of New Chaeronea, lit up bright as day, could be minutely
studied.
At the end of one of them, beyond the lawns and the high, open gates, a knot
of humanity muttered, ebbed and flowed.
"And they did not tell you when, or how, they would strike? A disruption? What
kind of disruption? A dem-
onstration? A siege?"
Jesse Thome, hunched upon a priceless table desk, his
EARTH DREAMS 111
heels hooked behind its brass binding, shook his head.
He chewed a toothpick; he wore the most fashionable of consular garb; he was
shorn and washed and thoroughly ill at ease. Every once in a while he cast a
pleading glance at Shebat, who paced in flight satins only slightly more
formal than those she wore on an ordinary day.
When this happened, Shebat would grimace, or stuff her fists in her pockets.
This time, she did more: she blurted out, "But why can't we just arrest Hooker
now."
"What good would it do?" snarled Tempest, lounging in a corner, dressed
intelligencer-invisible in soft, flowing civilian clothes. "He hasn't done
anything, yet. When he does, I've three intelligencers whose only task is to
follow his every move. ..."
"He destroyed our son," Shebat seethed.
Jesse Thorne winced, spat out his toothpick upon the carpet, quit the desk.
By the open French doors, he raised one arm high, grasping the door frame.
Cantilevered, he leaned there, staring outward, occasionally shaking his head.
"I
couldn't do this just wait to be attacked if this place were mine to hold," he
whispered.
"Well, it is not," someone said.
"Rafe!" Shebat embraced Penrose in greeting. The pilot looked quizzical.
"Chaeron, talk to the Marada," Penrose suggested im-
periously, while still disengaging Shebat. "It's got a slate on Hooker and
your brother from Acheron. It says it told your wife about it. An abstract is
ready to run, if you want to take it."
"Can you get it up in here, hard copy, one reading?"
"I can get it for you direct, line-to-mind," Raphael countered softly, only
offering.
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"Through the Danae?" Chaeron tested the truce miti-
gating their ongoing quarrel, while Tempest breathed a sigh of relief and
somehow beat them all to the console, and Raphael replied: "There is a little
something at stake. But hold it, Gahan, if you would."
The intellignecer stopped, with a desk-top console half-waked amid a wall
suddenly studded with ready-
lights.
Penrose took a step toward Chaeron, who flashed him
JANET MORRIS
112
a small, encouraging smile. "It's all right, Rafe, in here, if it's all right
anywhere, anytime. Don't mind Thorne, he's getting his education." At the
singing of the console and the colors it threw in ready-mode, the militia
leader had turned about, peering into the room, instead of beyond it.
"Now, RP, what is it?"
"The Marada wants to be Acheron One."
"What?" Shebat and Chaeron gasped, together, equally incredulous and equally
comprehending. Then, still simultaneously: "If Chaeron agrees?" "Surely!"
Tempest saw Jessa Thorne's face, and added, "For my information, what does
that mean?"
"If Shebat's cruiser is Acheron One, he can deploy the other cruisers without
waiting for our orders, in a Class-
One emergency, as which this certainly qualifies. It will save time and lives,
and if one of us is incapacitated, it might be our only hope. If I had
Raphael's full coopera-
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