"The Archaeology Section's interested, all right," Frakes admitted. "They've been battling Sabre for first dibs on Clarion ever since Callifer decided to broil himself in that old scout." He paused again, and Paul knew he was making up his mind about something. "Callifer was out of his head when we got to him, like I said. But he kept talking about Lord Tern, and about some kind of machine Lord Tern had given to the people of Clarion. He croaked before we could find out more about it, but what he said made us think the machine was plenty powerful. He called it a chawka." He paused, cleared his throat. "We think it might be a weapon of some kind."
"A weapon?"
Frakes must have detected the skepticism in Paul's voice. "Sounds crazy to me, too. But—" He stopped, pursed his lips. He looked at the hotel entrance again, turned back to Paul. "The truth is, we know Hans Maiar is looking for the planet."
"Maiar?" That only added more confusion. Hans Maiar was chairman of the Fringe Alliance.
"We caught one of his couriers a few months ago," Frakes went on. "Maiar doesn't use commsets because he knows UNSA Security listens in on all the stream channels. The courier we ran down had a coded message for Maiar. We unraveled enough of it to know that it had something to do with the Clarion stream coordinates. Not the coordinates themselves—we weren't that lucky—
46 William Greenleaf
but a message about somebody who was zeroing in on them."
"Why would Maiar be interested in Clarion?" Frakes shrugged. "An alien race. Maybe still alive. Think about it."
Paul was gripped by sudden understanding.
"Sabre wants to make sure the gents don't side up with the Fringe Alliance."
The look on Frakes's face was enough to tell Paul he was right. "We're following up on the courier's message. We might be able to get something from that, but I'm not holding my breath. Sabre's afraid the Alliance might get its hands on Clarion first. And if the chaw-ka really is a weapon—"
"Maiar might use it to attack UNSA planets?" Paul said. "Sounds farfetched to me."
"Yeah, maybe you're right. But Maiar's a little crazy. If he gets his hands on something exotic like a gent weapon, he might get himself pumped up enough to attack, whether the weapon's that useful or not."
That part wasn't so farfetched, Paul had to admit. Based on what he'd heard, Hans Maiar was looking for any excuse to start a war with UNSA. Frakes glanced down at his wristwatch. "I gotta get back. If you change your mind, or if you or Mr. Avery thinks of anything, give me a call." He looked out over the city. "Let's keep this chat between us. My job isn't all that great, but I'd hate to lose it." He winked and turned back to the Aire Vega without waiting for a reply. He slid across to the pilot's seat, and the gullwing doors lowered. A moment later the stasis engine hummed and the craft lifted away.
Paul's mind was a jumble as he walked across the roof toward the hotel's entrance. He was sure of only one thing: he and Dorland hadn't seen the last of Parke Sabre—not if Sabre really thought
CLARION 47
Dorland had information that could make a difference in the struggle with the Alliance. The Fringe Alliance was a group of ninety planets along a strip of the stream that reached from the far side of the Omega cluster to the inner loop of the Kiros Spiral. The Alliance had started back when that part of the stream was on the fringe of colonized space. Humankind had long since spread beyond that area, but the Alliance had held together. Now it controlled an area of the stream that was heavily traveled, and when Maiar had begun charging high navigation fees for the use of the Fringe breakout zones—fees for the use of navigation equipment that had been confiscated from UNSA facilities in the Fringe—that was the last straw. UNSA demanded concessions. The Alliance refused, and began building a fleet of warships. By the time the UNSA triumvirate had gotten past the knee-jerk reaction and realized they had underestimated the determination of Hans Maiar and his Alliance command, it was too late. The Alliance had put together several dozen of the planet-buster kiester warheads and was already testing its strength. Maiar began visiting planets in adjoining sectors and politely inviting them to drop their UNSA affiliation and join the Alliance. Those that declined were made to regret it.
It was all stupidity, Paul thought as he turned down the corridor to Dorland's room. The same kind of apelike territorialism that had killed untold millions down through mankind's bloody history. How much farther could we have progressed by now if we had only been able to get along with one another?
War between UNSA and the Alliance would
mean slaughter on a planetary scale. Everyone agreed about that, but nobody had come up with a way to cool the tension that hung between the two 48 William Greenleaf
massive powers. Now, if what Frakes had told him was true, that tension had centered on a planet that had been isolated for the past two centuries. And for reasons that were still not clear to Paul, Dorland Avery was also part of that focus.
Steph Hendrikson waited outside the door to Doriand's suite. Inside, Dorland sat on the low sofa in the front room, his back unnaturally straight, arms at his sides. He looked up when Paul walked in and without any preamble said: "I'll have to go back with Selmer Ogram to Clarion. Sabastian needs me."
Paul resisted the impulse to react immediately and instead crossed the room to thejo dispenser in the comer. He took his time pouring himself a cup. With Dorland you had to take careful steps and test the situation before acting.
When he turned back, Doriand's eyes were on him.
"What about the tour?" Paul asked. "You said it yourself: you have five more shows to do."
"We'll have to cancel them."
Paul sipped hot jo. "Who's Sabastian?"
"My uncle."
Another surprise. "So you really are from this place. Clarion?"
"I was born there, and lived there until six years ago. Then I ... had to leave."
"You told me you came from Giant Forest."
"I lived on Giant Forest for a year before I met you."
Dorland had never offered much detail about his past, and Paul hadn't pressed him. After Doriand's fame as a psi-player had spread along the stream, news service reporters had tried to dredge up information about him with no better luck. One had even tried to bribe Paul for information about Doriand's past.
CLARION 49
"Your parents still live on Clarion?"
"They're both dead." Doriand's eyes moved away from Paul to stare at the wall behind him.
"High Elder Brill ordered their deaths." Paul sipped his jo and allowed a moment to pass before he asked the obvious question. "Why?"
"They were heretics," Dorland answered, his eyes still fixed on the wall behind Paul. "My father disagreed with some of the High Elder's pronouncements. Disagreement is heresy, and on Clarion the penalty for heresy is death. But at least they were given a trial." His eyes moved to Paul. "Diana and Shari were not allowed even that."
"Diana and Shari?" Paul felt a sudden, certain knowledge of who they were.
"Diana was my wife. Shari was my daughter. She was six years old when Elder Jacowicz came to my house with his deacons and killed her."
"They murdered a six-year-old?"
"They were after me, but I wasn't there. Jacowicz settled his score with me by killing the two people who were most important to me."
"Because of your father?"
Dorland shook his head. "Because of me." A wry, humorless smile crossed his lips. "I was also a heretic."
"Now they've found you again."
"It would appear so."
Brill's got ten more like Deacon Bekman.
"You're wanted for heresy. But you've been away from Clarion for years. Why would they want you badly enough to risk coming after you?" Dorland took a moment to answer. "High Elder Brill and Elder Jacowicz see me as a threat."