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hoping that the new Skimmers Union regime would thank them

for it. If so, they were grossly mistaken.

Constantine looked about the cavernous station, adjusting his

videoshades for closeups. Amid the fretting Shapers in their

overelaborate finery was a growing minority of others. An imported cargo of sundogs. Here and there shabbily clad ideological derelicts, their faces wreathed in smiles, were comparing

lace-sleeved garments to their torsos or lurking with predatory

nonchalance beside evacuees lightening their luggage.

"Vermin," Constantine said. The sight depressed him.

"Gentlemen, it's time we moved on."

The guards led him across the chained-off entry to a private

ramp padded in velcro. Constantine's clingtight boots crunched

and shredded across the fabric.

He floated down the free-fall embarkation tube to the airlock

of the Friendship Serene. Once inside he took his favorite acceleration chair and plugged in on video to enjoy the takeoff.

Within the port's skeletal gantryways, the smaller ships queued up for embarkation tubes, dwarfed by the stylized bulk of an

Investor starship. Constantine craned his neck, causing the hull

cameras of the Friendship Serene to swivel in slaved obedience.

"Is that Investor ship still here?" he said aloud. He smiled. "Do

you suppose they're hunting bargains?"

He lifted his videoshades. Within the ship's cabin his guards

clustered around an overhead tank, huffing tranquilizer gas

from breathing masks. One looked up, red-eyed. "May we go

into suspension now, sir?"

Constantine nodded sourly. Since the war had started up again, his guards had lost all sense of humor.

AN INVESTOR TRADE SHIP: 22-9-'53

Nora looked up at her husband, who sprawled above her in a

towering chair. His face was hidden by a dark beard and opaque

wraparound sunshades. His hair was close-cropped and he wore

a Mech jumpsuit. His old, scarred diplomatic bag rested on the

scratchy plush of the deck. He was taking it with him. He meant

to defect.

The heavy gravity of the Investor ship weighed on both of them like iron. "Stop pacing, Nora," he said. "You'll only exhaust

yourself."

"I'll rest later," she said. Tension knotted her neck and shoulders.

"Rest now. Take the other chair. If you'll close your eyes,

sleep a little ... in almost no time-"

"I'm not going with you." She pulled off her own sunshades

and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The light in the cabin was

the light Investors favored: a searing blaze of blue-white radiance, drenched in ultraviolet.

She hated that light. Somehow she had always resented the

Investors for robbing her Family's deaths of meaning. And the

three months she'd once spent in a ship like this one had been

the eeriest time of her life. Lindsay had been quick, adaptable,

the consummate sundog, as willing to deal with the aliens as he

was with anyone. She'd wondered at it then. And now they had

come full circle.

He said, "You came this far. You wouldn't have, if you didn't

want to come with me. I know you, Nora. You're still the same,

even if I've changed."

"I came because I wanted to be with you for every moment

that I could." She fought down the tears, her face frozen. The

sensation was horrifying, a black nausea. Too many tears, she

thought, had been pushed away for too long. The day would

come when she would choke on them.

Constantine used every weakness in Goldreich-Tremaine, she

thought. And my special weakness was this man. When Abelard

came back from the rejuvenation clinic, three weeks late and so

changed that the household robots wouldn't let him in ... But

even that was not so bad as the days without him, hunting for

him, finding that the black-market subble he'd gone to had been

deflated and put away, wondering what furtive Star Chamber

was picking him to shreds. . . .

"This is my fault," she said. "I accused Constantine with no

proof, and he humiliated me. Next time I'll know better."

"Constantine had nothing to do with it," he said. "I know what

I saw in that clinic. They were Superbrights."

"I can't believe in the Cataclysts," she said. "Those

Superbrights are watched like jewels; they don't have room for

wild conspiracies. What you saw was a fraud; the whole thing

was staged to draw me out. And I fell for it."

"Don't be proud, Nora. It's blinded you. The Cataclysts

abducted me, and you won't even admit they exist. You can't

win, because you can't bring back the past. Let it go, and come

with me."

"When I see what Constantine did to the Clique-"

"It's not your fault! My God, aren't there disasters enough

without your heaping them all on your own shoulders?

Goldreich-Tremaine is through! We have to live now! I told you

years ago that it couldn't last, and now it's over!" He flung his

arms wide. The left one, tugged by gravity, fell limply; the other

whirred with smooth precision through a powered arc.

They had been over this a hundred times, and she saw that his nerves were frayed. Under the influence of the treatment his

hard-won patience had vanished in a blaze of false youth. He

was shouting at her. "You're not God! You're not history!

You're not the Ring Council! Don't flatter yourself! You're

nothing now, you're a target, a scapegoat! Run, Nora! Sundog

it!"

"The Mavrides clan needs me," she said.

"They're better off without you. You're an embarrassment to

them now, we both are-"

"And the children?"

He was silent a moment. "I'm sorry for them, more sorry than

I can say, but they're adults now and they can take their own

chances. They're not the problem here, we are! If we make

things easy for the enemy, just slip away, evaporate, we'll be

forgotten. We can wait it out."

"And give the fascists their way in everything? The assassins,

the killers? How long before the Belt fills up again with Shaper

agents, and little wars blaze up in every corner?"

"And who'll stop that? You?"

"What about you, Abelard? Dressed as a stinking Mechanist

with stolen Shaper data in that bag! Do you ever think of

anyone's life but your own? Why in God's name don't you

stand up for the helpless instead of betraying them? Do you

think it's easier for me without you? I'll go on fighting, but

without you there'll be no heart in me."

He groaned. "Listen. I was a sundog before I met you, you

know just how little I had. ... I don't want that emptiness, no

one caring, no one knowing . . . And another betrayal on my

conscience. . . . Nora, we had almost forty years! This place was

good to us, but it's falling apart on its own! Good times will

come again. We have all the time there is! You wanted more

life, and I went out and got it for you. Now you want me to

throw it away. I won't be a martyr, Nora. Not for anyone."

"You always talked about mortality," she said. "You're different now."

"If I changed it was because you wanted me to."

"Not like this. Not treason."

"We'll die for nothing."

"Like the others," she said, regretting it at once. And there it

was before them: the old guilt in all its stark intimacy. Those

others, to whom duty was more than life. Those they had

abandoned, those they had killed in the Shaper outpost. That

was the crime the two of them had struggled to efface, the crime

that had bound them together. "Well, that's what you're asking,

isn't it? To betray my own people again, for you!"

There. She had said it. Now there was no going back. She