She paused, thinking.

"No, I guess I don't mean it that way," she said finally. "It might be good for the organization to impose some sort of punishment— pour encourager les autres, as they used to say; but any major sanction placed on her would be disproportionate to her actual culpability."

"I don't understand that phrase you used," Bleys said. "What was that, Old Earth French?"

"Sorry," she said. "French, yes—I don't speak the language, but I found the phrase in a book spool that my Dorsai grandmother owned, when I was small. It was Cletus Grahame's Tactics of Mistake. She told me it meant something like as an incentive to everyone else. I loved the liquid sound of the phrase when she told me how to pronounce it, and it stuck with me."

"You're concerned about the fairness of punishing Pallas Salvador," Bleys said.

"I guess I am, yes," she replied, "even though I feel there's something wrong if she isn't somehow made to pay for what's happened here—I mean, she didn't even know that nine of her people had gone missing!"

"We don't yet know the full details of what's happened here," he said, "nor the extent of any deficiencies in her operation. But I'm beginning to believe Pallas Salvador has a lot left to give to our organization. Dahno and I, just on the basis of the reports we saw coming from Ceta a few years ago, made her the top person here despite knowing she wasn't the most adept person we have, as far as the ability to persuade and convince goes—because she was showing a lot of administrative ability, which the wide dispersal of power on this planet seemed to demand. But now, with this example in the back of her mind, it's possible she'll become a great administrator and organizer—in the particular situation of this planet now, coordination may be as necessary as persuasive abilities."

"You know I don't see the reports that come in from Ceta," Toni said, "but just from our time spent in her offices, and conversing with her staff, I'd say she's been walking a narrow line between being a productive leader, or a tyrant who could alienate her people. It might be better if she were—well, not punished, but put in another, less supervisory position."

"Keep in mind the fragile position of our organization on this planet right now," Bleys said. "If Pallas Salvador isn't particularly liable for having been deceived, then neither are her subordinate Others or their staffs. But I think that when they're apprised of this plot, those Others—and their staffs—will be left feeling very guilty, even if we never give a hint we're holding anything against them."

"And seeing Pallas Salvador disciplined—no matter how lightly— would weigh on them, and affect their morale and performance," she said. "I see."

"The organization here, I now believe, is about to enter a period of major change," Bley said. "None of these Others seem to be extraordinary at their jobs, but I've seen things that suggest that many have a good deal of ability. And for us, in this place and time, quantity may be more important than quality."

"And we don't have enough spare personnel to step in if we removed them," she said, thoughtfully. "Not right now. We could do it over time, though."

"But time has suddenly become very important, here," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I came here with a made-up tale that we were about to take major action to seize control of this planet," he said. "It was only intended to shock the local organization, giving us a chance to watch their reactions and learn who had other loyalties. I had no serious belief we could do much more than fix our problem and continue silently building for the future. But now, I'm beginning to have other ideas."

"What've you seen that tells you that?"

"I'd rather not say," he said. "It's not much more than a feeling, at this point; I need a lot more information."

"Are you saying a patched-up organization, led by someone who let her organization be hijacked, can carry out a program to take control of this planet?"

"They might have some help," Bleys said.

He refused to provide any further information; and in the dissatisfied silence that followed, he was saved by Kaj Menowsky, who called from the infirmary to report that Dahno was demanding to see Bleys.

"I've been waiting for him to come out of his shell," Bleys told Toni. "He's been recovering well, physically, but he's been withdrawn."

"I know," she said. "I stopped by to see how he was doing, yesterday, and he was barely polite—I think he's sulking about something."

"I don't believe he's ever been hurt before," Bleys said. "I think he's been getting used to the concept, and it's making him rethink things."

She looked at him for a long moment, a thoughtful look on her face; until, finally, she smiled.

"Most people would be wondering what he'll decide to do," she said. "You already know, don't you?"

"I have some ideas," he said. Then he shook his head.

"Oh, not in any detail," he went on. "That depends on how things play out for a while. But if you're talking about the short run—he'll want to go back to Association right away."

"Is he afraid he might get hurt again?"

"Not in the sense you mean," Bleys said. "No, he'll just want to be able to get off where he can think and plan."

"How can we send him back without risking letting people know you're not really hiding in Abbeyville?"

"We'll figure something out.... I'd better go see him now."

CHAPTER 18

Henry was the third to go through the frosted-glass doors of the main entrance to the Others' offices, behind two of his Soldiers. Even though the external foyer's surveillance system had been disabled, here on the nineteenth floor of the building, their void pistols were kept out of sight until they were through the doors.

By the time Bleys entered, behind two more Soldiers and ahead of Toni and the last two Soldiers, the two women in the reception area were on their feet. The younger one, the same receptionist Bleys had met briefly on his prior visit, seemed to be trying—and in danger of failing—to present a calm demeanor; she was unable to keep her stare from returning, again and again, to the weapons now carried openly by Henry and the first two Soldiers—who were already past the two women and covering the interior doorways.

The second person in the reception area was the same stocky older woman Bleys had invited to sit in on the previous meeting—Pallas Salvador's administrative assistant, Gelica Costanza. She seemed calm and alert, although her lips were held a little tightly. She was, Bleys thought, a professional at maintaining a professional expression.

Already she had dismissed any concern for the men behind her, and focused her attention on Bleys. He played to that as if her gaze were a spotlight, pinning his own gaze on her and moving up to face her, almost bending as he looked down into her eyes. He could see those eyes widen, and as he drew nearer her pupils dilated a little; but even as he halted in front of her, they shrank to normal size.

"We hope you'll forgive us for this melodramatic entrance, Gelica Costanza," he said, keeping his voice quiet and pleasant. "I presume you're aware there've been several attacks aimed at our party." He was sure she was sharp enough to notice he was consistently using a plural form, rather than speaking of himself; he hoped it would alter her thinking, just a little.

"We've all been very concerned, Great Teacher," she said. "Frankly, it's made it very difficult to keep our minds on our work." Bleys could see no falseness in her smile, and he noted that she had used his honorific title, rather than his name.

I have to be very, very careful with this one, he told himself. She’s as good as anyone I've ever met.

"We've been having that problem ourselves," he responded, putting a smile of shared comradeship on his own face. Then he made a show of becoming serious, even throwing his shoulders back slightly.

"Our work must go on," he said. "That's why we must have the extra security." She nodded, giving every appearance of understanding that need.

He leaned forward, speaking in a confidential tone.

"I hate it," he said. "But apparently it's become necessary."

She produced a sympathetic smile. Watching it, he knew she had not weakened her defenses. But he had not really expected her to be beaten so easily.

"Please accept our apologies, as well," Bleys went on, "for the fact that we've arrived a good deal earlier than you were expecting us—we'd built extra time into the schedule to allow for mishaps during our trip here from Abbeyville, but everything went perfectly." Again he smiled, almost apologetically, before straightening to his full height and turning to glance about the room.

"Are all our people here, then?" he asked. For a moment he thought she was about to say something else, but she responded to his question.

"Everyone who was here for the previous convocation," she said, "except for Pallas Salvador herself. She messaged us that she wanted everyone here early, well before your scheduled arrival— she said there was some preliminary work to do—but we've been waiting for her, and she hasn't arrived herself." Her voice had gotten deeper as she spoke, and more resonant than at any time since Bleys had met her. He wondered if she had not just made a slip.

"She will not be here today," he told her; and her face said she had caught the formality of his language. That face, which had been broadcasting the attentiveness appropriate to a subordinate, now displayed a certainty that, curiously, seemed to relax her.

"For the moment, at least, assume you're in charge here," he said, returning to a more comradely informality.

Her face recovered its professional blandness, but it took her a moment to respond.

"All right," she said, finally. "What do you need?"

"You can start by leading the way to the conference room."

He gestured for her to precede him, and then followed her down the short, plushly carpeted corridor. Watching her as they walked, he caught a slight anomaly in her movements, as her right arm seemed to stiffen from its normal swinging motion, and shorten. Bleys realized she had bent the arm at the elbow, reaching across her front— and the arm of one of the Soldiers behind him reached past Bleys, holding a pistol pointed directly at Gelica's back. Bleys gave a silent hold signal.

On Gelica's left side, her loose beige jacket twisted slightly, as if something had pulled on that side of its fabric. Immediately, Toni, directly behind Bleys, tapped once on the side of his left arm, without speaking; and pushed her left arm into his view as he looked sideways. Her wrist control pad was indicating that a very brief electromagnetic impulse had just been intercepted, its origin very near. He nodded, and signaled for the Soldier pointing the gun at Gelica to drop back.

"You'll chair the meeting," he said to the back of Gelica's head.

"May I point out that I'm only staff?" she said, looking back at him now. "And even among the staff, there are others here senior to me."

"I know," he said, as she halted before the closed double door and turned sideways to look at him. He stepped to his right, rather than moving up beside her, and she took a step backward to keep him in view. "And if one of them," he continued, "or a junior, for that matter, is shown to be abler, you may be moved to other duties. But for the moment, the job is yours."

She nodded, and then darted a glance at Toni—and her eyes widened a little as four of the Soldiers, their void pistols carried at a high ready position, moved quickly past her to the door. One placed a hand on the right-hand knob and glanced a question at Bleys. Bleys nodded.

In seconds both doors were open and all four Soldiers were inside, their pistols now down and pointing in the general direction of the milling crowd before them. The chatter in the room died down almost as quickly, as the Soldiers moved to and down the length of the side wall, the lead Soldier proceeding almost to the other end of the room, where the serving tables—not yet set up—were waiting.

"Go," Bleys said; and Gelica moved ahead of him into the room.

All the conference attendees, Bleys saw, were on their feet and facing the armed Soldiers, even as they unconsciously backed away from them and toward each other, as if trying to stand back-to-back in the face of danger. None of them, he noted, were tripping over chairs.

"Sit," he said, and eyes flickered toward him.

"Sit," he repeated, only a little more loudly. This time, they did.

They sorted themselves out quickly, most taking whatever seat was closest—although a few, he saw, seemed to seek out the seats closest to the emergency exit near the back of the room. Once seated, all kept their eyes on Bleys, seemingly ignoring the armed men.

Bleys had reached the head table before most of the conference attendees had managed to seat themselves. As he seated himself in the middle, larger seat, Toni took the chair to his immediate left, and then pulled a small electronic device from a thigh pocket, placing it on the table. Gelica, on Bleys' right side, stood behind the chair at her place without speaking, for long enough to grab the attention of the audience. When at last she spoke, her voice projected through the room without seeming overly loud.

"Bleys Ahrens will address you now," she said; and turned to look at him.

Momentarily startled, Bleys recovered rapidly. He had not been expecting her to be so succinct.

It was a good idea, though, he thought; these people are too edgy for any ordinary speech.

"Our apologies for startling you like this"—he gestured at the

Soldier-lined wall as he spoke—"but it was necessary. Because we've been betrayed."

In the dead silence that followed, he turned his head to look at Gelica, now settling herself into her seat next to him.

"Have the missing nine been located?"

"No," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked back up at him. "No. We sent staff—"

Bleys cut her off as he turned to the rest.

"You're shocked," he told them. "Get over it. The harmless little games you've all been playing have turned into a war, and there've already been casualties. It's time for you all to begin using those minds you've been gifted with."

The faces before him were largely blank, but it was hard to tell whether it was the blankness of shock, or camouflage.

"Think about this," he said, "if you want to stay alive: someone wants to kill us."

Before him, a couple of faces seemed to go slack for a moment; but most continued to display intense concentration. A few of his audience seemed to square their shoulders a little, and there was a good deal of resetting of feet—enough to produce a small rustling sound.

"You're all among the best the human race has to offer," he told them, seeking out faces with which to make eye-to-eye contact. "Most of you have received the very best training we could give you—training, in particular, to help you use the talent you've been gifted with, to persuade and lead. You've become trusted members of our family"—it registered on him that Gelica was reacting to something at that point, but he continued—"and then you were sent to this world for the purpose of using those talents, to gain influence and power here, as your fellow Others have done on other planets, for the benefit of all of us, and of the entire human race.

"I know some of you haven't had the training I mentioned," he continued, and smiled at a couple of the staff people he saw near the front of his audience. "We simply haven't had time to give every Other the training we'd like them to have. Nonetheless, you, too, are Others, and members of our family."

He paused for a moment, scanning the faces as if he were about to smile. But he did not smile at all.

"So it is a great sorrow to me to have to say that some of you, at least, have let all the rest of us down."

He gave them a moment to react to, and recover from, that statement, and then continued.

"We have long known that our persuasive skills seem not to work on everyone," he said, "and particularly not on the Exotics and the Dorsai. Am I right?"

A few among them nodded, but he ignored them and plowed on.

"We have discovered—never mind how—that the Exotics and the Dorsai have been the targets of a secretive economic attack for a long time—decades, in fact."

He went on to lay out for them the basics of what he had learned about the Ceta-based attacks on those two Splinter Cultures.

"The proof is indirect," he said, "but while a certain amount of those three planets' bad economic situation can be blamed on historical forces and the general decline of the old order, which have resulted in changing political, military and social conditions making for more competition for those planets, and less of a market for their products and experts, it is nonetheless true that a lot of their declining economic situation is the result of outside factors." He was, he suddenly realized, keyed up—he was feeling embarrassed at the droning, pedantic language he had begun to use. But it was a planned tactic, chosen because he knew the boring style would be reassuring to the nervous ones in the crowd.

"Exotic ships," he was continuing, "which once—leaving out Old Earth—dominated interstellar trade, don't get as great a percentage as they used to, of the cargoes and passengers going off-world from all the planets. Who do you think has benefited from that?

"People on other worlds buy less of the Exotic specialty exports—medical technologies, environmental tools and so on—" He broke off, purposely leaving a hanging silence.

"A lot of this can be traced here," he said. "I mean, to Ceta. Why didn't you tell us?"

There was silence in the room for a long moment. Most of the faces in front of Bleys were stunned and dismayed, but there were a few that were reacting in wariness and fear... and most of those faces were seated as a group in the back of the gathering.

"It was your job to further the progress of our movement," he went on, "by extending our influence on this planet and sending back to the rest of us information that would be of use to us all in furthering our work elsewhere. But it's impossible to believe that none of you managed to pick up on the fact that a large and powerful group on this planet was exerting its efforts to alter the balance of interstellar relationships."

He paused again, to let them draw the inevitable conclusion for themselves—and just as he was about to resume, a tiny rivet set in the underside of his wrist control pad vibrated silently against his skin in three short bursts.

Bleys broke off his remarks and turned to Toni, on his right.

"Toni," he said, "would you go out to Henry and ask him for the disk I left with him?"

As Toni nodded and rose from her seat, Bleys turned back to his audience.

"We have a recording that will illustrate what I'm talking about," he said—and in that moment Toni, who had been passing behind the head table on her way to the door, produced a small needle pistol and laid its muzzle softly against Gelica Costanza's temple, whispering something that caused the woman to freeze her startled reaction.

At the same moment the four Soldiers placed along the wall brought their void pistols back up, to point directly at Bleys' audience—and Bleys noticed that three of the four were concentrating their attention, and their aims, in the area of the group that he himself had earlier noticed.

Bleys kept his attention on the audience while this action occurred, watching their reactions, and was pleased to note that only a few showed signs of disabling shock. They might have gotten complacent over the course of their long, quiet term on this planet, but for the most part they seemed—given the upset that had marked the last few weeks—to be recovering the abilities they had been schooled in during their training.

A few of the audience had also noted where the attention of the Soldiers was directed; those Others were holding themselves very still, he saw, but several were unobtrusively bringing their feet into a position of readiness. He made a note of their faces.

"Stay calm," he said now to the whole room, projecting his voice to reflect authority; and then repeated the command in a quieter, soothing tone, making a slow, downward patting motion with his left hand.

As he spoke, his right hand had been under the table, unclipping a void pistol that had been stealthily placed there the preceding night. He had not wanted to bring it in himself—void pistols, although silent weapons that killed without leaving a mark on a body, were necessarily rather large—but he wanted this one for the immense psychological weight it would lend him. Everyone knew that the charge emitted by the long, coil-wrapped barrel was almost invariably fatal.

He swiveled in his seat and pointed the pistol at Gelica from a distance of less than a foot. Her eyes fastened on his face, but she made no move.

"I've got her," Bleys said softly to Toni. "Watch the seats."

Toni pulled her small pistol away from Gelica's head and stepped quickly to her left, passing behind Bleys and around the end of the head table to take up a position against the wall and near the front of the seating area. From there she pointed her pistol in the direction of the same group the Soldiers were watching from their places along the opposite wall.

"Sit absolutely still, all of you," Bleys said to the room at large. He put into those words every ounce of the ability he had developed to project a feeling of authority, but he never took his eyes off Gelica. "Make no sounds at all."

"You know what this pistol is," he said, now speaking softly to the woman beside him. "A void pistol doesn't wound."

He gave her a moment, and then ordered her to raise her hands and rise slowly from her seat, taking care to touch nothing, including the table and her chair.

"I want you to back up," he said, "always keeping your hands in the air."

In a moment her back was against the wall behind the table. Bleys had risen to move with her, and now, from a position slightly to her side and a half-arm's length away, he placed the pistol at her temple.

"We know your people have entered the building," he told her now, speaking loudly enough that everyone in the room could hear him. "But if you, or your people here in this room, make any move to reach for a weapon, or to communicate, you'll all be killed instantly."

He took a moment to speak more loudly, never taking his eyes off Gelica.

"You in the seats should know that not only are there five weapons aimed in your direction, but they're held by people very skilled at observing and interpreting the slightest movement that might hint of danger. If you want to live, sit still."

There was a dead silence in the room behind him. Gelica's eyes remained fixed on his, a hint of extra redness showing in her face.

"We began to suspect you some time ago," Bleys told her, now speaking in a much lower voice. "Now we've baited a trap for your friends."

"There're too many of them for you," she said, her voice husky. There was a hint of moisture in her eyes, but he did not make the mistake of taking that as a sign of weakness.

"I don't think so," he told her. "We knew that by scheduling this appointment, we'd give you an appealing target. But we have many more Soldiers here than you saw. Some of them entered this building and even these offices, last night—they planted this pistol for me—and have been hiding nearby, waiting for our signal—"

He broke off; his wristpad had once more prodded him, in a series of short coded touches.

"Your people have gotten on the elevators," he told her. "Our Soldiers now hold the lobby behind them, and will disable the elevators once your people get to this floor. When your people get off the elevators, they'll be trapped in the foyer and covered from all sides by experienced fighters firing from good cover."

He gave her a few seconds to think about it.

"It would be a futile slaughter," he said. "Will you call it off?"

The door to the conference room opened, and Henry stuck his head inside.

"There are sixteen of them," he reported, after taking a moment to assess the situation in the room. "They're on two elevators that should arrive at just about the same time, and they're not carrying their weapons in sight."

"Which gives us a further advantage," Bleys said to Gelica. "What about it?"

She looked up into his face, the moisture gone from her eyes and her color back to normal.

"Will you trust me to call them?" she asked.

"What will you say?"

"I'll tell them to stay in the foyer with their hands in the air, and wait to be disarmed," she said. "But I can't promise you they'll obey me—they aren't my people, and I don't think they'll want to give themselves up to you."

"They don't have to," Bleys replied. "We don't demand they give themselves into our power. Once disarmed, they can simply leave, if they wish, and we won't hurt them." He paused to emphasize his next words.

"It would be good if they knew we could have killed them."

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes assessing him anew.

"You have to hurry," he pointed out.

"Yes," she said. As her hand began to reach toward her jacket, his left hand reached out and pulled one side of her jacket open, exposing a harness that held a pistol holster under her right arm, balanced by a small electronic device on the other side. She smiled at him, and carefully pulled out the electronic device; then she activated it, tapping out a series of numbers on its pad before raising it to her lips. She explained the situation and gave the instructions just as Bleys had dictated them.

"Henry—" Bleys began—

"I heard," Henry said; and the door closed behind him.

"They don't like it," Gelica said a minute later. The communication device evidently had a HUSH function, which was logical considering its clandestine purpose—he had not heard any response to her words.

"Will they do it?"

"Yes," she said. "They've reached the foyer and have seen enough to be convinced this won't be the walkover they were expecting."

"Now tell your people here in this room to raise their own hands," Bleys said. She hesitated.

"We think we know who they are," Bleys said, looking into her eyes. "In any case, we have no more reason to kill them than we'd have to kill your allies in the foyer."

After a moment she nodded.

"Do as he says," she called down the length of the room. "Let yourselves be disarmed. We gain nothing by getting ourselves killed here."

As movement began behind him, Bleys kept his attention on Gelica. She smiled once more, and wordlessly, slowly, reached under her jacket again, being careful to use only the thumb and forefinger of her right hand—her arm had to bend awkwardly—to pull her small pistol from its holster. As she pulled it out it swung like a small pendulum from her two-fingered grip, its unbalanced weight almost pulling it from her fingers. Bleys reached out with his free hand and took it from her.

"Would you take your pistol away from my head now?" she asked, after a moment.

"You know I can't," he said. "You're too clever. You just might have some other surprise. Let's just relax and wait for Henry."

They did just that, while Gelica's self-identified confederates in the room were disarmed and lined up, kneeling, along the side wall.

"The rest of you remain in your seats," Toni announced to the remaining group of conference attendees. "We can't be sure we've gotten all of them yet, so we have to keep you all where we can watch you, until we can finish sorting you all out."

Eventually, they were all sorted out.