Chapter 3 -- THE TYRANCY

Emerald took us to New Wash. The Navy landed troops to safeguard my arrival, but Emerald did not trust this. She made sure that no segment of the public had access to me during the transition. "There are always the crazies, the kamikaze assassins," she said. "We need to get you installed alive, sir."

The White Bubble, so recently vacated by Tocsin, was a short distance from the massive New Wash city-bubble, like a satellite, though, of course, it did not orbit the city.

It was now flanked by three cruisers and a number of smaller ships; nothing short of a direct military invasion could penetrate that defense.

We were funneled in on another destroyer. Emerald kissed me at the lock. "Take care of yourself, sir," she cautioned me.

"My staff will see to that," I said.

"For the moment," she agreed obliquely. "Remember, the Navy is always at your service."

She meant more than militarily. I wished I could take her up on it; the Navy had been a competent home for me, in the past. At the moment I wished someone could take me by the hand and guide me to some quiet, safe place where I could just relax for a time. But there was too much to be done; I did not know when I could afford to rest. "I'll remember," I agreed wanly.

Then we were moved to the White Bubble. There, at the entrance lock, was my sister Spirit. She was three years my junior but, I think, looked younger. Somehow I still remembered her as a child of twelve. As a woman of twelve.

I moved into her arms. Suddenly I felt much better. Spirit had always been my strength; how glad I was that she had gotten here as fast as I had.

Spirit got right to work. "You have done a good job of consolidating power, Hope. Now you need to establish a government, at least a temporary one."

"I will declare the present mechanisms of government to continue until further notice,"

I said. "Then I will revise them as convenient, piecemeal."

She nodded appreciatively. "You are better organized than I thought you might be."

"It's not my notion," I confessed.

"Oh?"

"Beautiful Dreamer."

"Oh." She understood the reference, of course, but took a moment to digest the implication. "Then let's make notes on your speech." She turned to Shelia. "Set up a planetary address at the earliest auspicious moment."

"Twenty-one minutes hence," Shelia said evenly.

"We'll make it," Spirit said.

We huddled over it, working out suitable phrasing. The essence was: I am the new government of North Jupiter, by the authority of the Constitutional Convention to Balance the Budget. I declare all the current institutions to remain in force until further notice, on an advisory basis. Life will proceed unchanged until further notice.

The leaders of Congress and the governors of all the States of the Union will have twelve hours to acknowledge their acceptance of this state to my office. The members of the Supreme Court will acknowledge similarly. Any failing to so acknowledge will be summarily removed from office thereafter. Announcements of new posts and appointees will follow in due course, and the first major effort will be made to balance the budget as of the present.

Of course, the actual wording was more sophisticated and polite, with due compliments to the good sense of the population. But the message was plain: Accept the new order or else. I didn't like putting it that way, but I had already been convinced by the problems I had encountered that absolute firmness was required, if there was not to be anarchy in short order. Once the new administration was established, I could relax.

The broadcast was planetary, and the monitors indicated that a goodly portion of the remainder of the System was picking it up too. Of course, the interplanetary scale is such that it would be hours before all the other planets received it, but their local news representatives were relaying it from Jupiter. It seemed everyone was interested in what was happening on Jupiter.

When it was done, we turned to the matter of appointments. As candidate for president I had been aware of the need to set up a Cabinet and prepare a program of legislation; I had expected to finalize that after the election, if I won. Severe complications had interrupted that, and now I did not have any proper program. The fact that I had assumed power outside the normal framework added a dimension of complication. I was now pretty much flying by the seat of my pants.

Fortunately Spirit was better organized than I was. "We have a guideline of sorts," she said. "That campaign speech you gave on the eve of the election."

"But that was scripted for me by the opposition!" I protested. "It was made up of impossible dreams."

"But you presented it," she reminded me. "And you won the election. The individual points were not necessarily bad; it was merely not feasible to implement all the programs simultaneously. Now, with a completely new government, that may have become feasible."

I nodded, appreciating the scope of the opportunity. Part of the complications I had encountered were a two-month abduction and a memory-wash that cleaned out much of my recent life. I had recovered most of that, but some gaps remained. I wasn't necessarily aware of a particular gap until I came across it by chance, so my own ignorance torpedoed me at odd moments.

"You'll have to do a lot of interviewing," she continued. "It might save trouble at the beginning if you drew on people you already know, for the key posts, and then interview at greater leisure to fill the lesser ones."

I spread my hands. "You know what to do," I said.

"I'd better! We've got a planet to organize." She brought out a notepad. "Now what people do you want closest to you, who are competent to act in your name?"

I sighed. "She won't come."

She patted my hand. "Aside from Megan."

"I contacted Senator Stonebridge about the budget -- "

"Yes, he should be put in charge of economics. But you'll need a mandate for him. It's not enough simply to say 'Balance the budget.' You have to have your priorities aligned before he gets into harness."

"So I discovered," I agreed ruefully. "My last four months haven't been very good for economic priorities."

She laughed. "Sometimes I think of you as the fifteen-year-old boy I knew when our situation changed," she said. Then she leaned across and kissed me, as I sat startled.

But, of course, if I could remember her as twelve, she could remember me as fifteen.

Certainly that had been the period of our reckoning, of our coming of age. We had shared more joy and tragedy then than ever since. Whatever else might happen, that common experience bound us together in a way that no other person was equipped to understand.

"Crime," she said. "We have taken steps to deal with it in the past, but it's like a hydra, always sprouting new heads. We want a competent, dedicated person to tackle the problems of violence in the streets, illicit drugs, gambling -- "

Gambling. That summoned a picture of Roulette, my last Navy wife, as she had been then: eighteen, fiery, and with a body crafted by the devil himself for man's corruption. I had been required to rape her --

"Why not?" Spirit asked.

I jogged out of my reverie. "I -- "

"Only one body compels a trance like that. But she always was competent, and at thirty-eight she's had a good deal of experience. She could tackle the problem of crime as well as anyone could."

"But -- "

"Of course, we need her husband even more. He is under our power, while she isn't, so we'd better assign him first."

"Admiral Phist?" I said, not quite keeping up.

"The same. When it comes to efficiency, he has no peer."

She had been married to him for several years in the Navy. "You ought to know," I murmured. But, of course, it was true; Gerald Phist had been held back in the Navy because he was a whistle-blower, until he joined my unit. He had done marvels for our procurement. Certainly I wanted him on my team now -- and if Spirit asked him, he would serve. He was now in his mid-sixties, but I knew his mind remained sharp. "What position?"

"Well, I would have thought defense, because that's his area of expertise, but he has already taken care of that."

I knew what she meant. After Spirit and I had left the Navy our unit had continued, and its personnel had extended their influence, thanks to Admiral Mondy's -- the male, Emerald's husband -- sinister expertise. Emerald's own position had been proof of that; my recent promotion of her had only completed a twenty-year process. My people had in their quiet way assumed the reins and reorganized the Navy, making it a far more effective fighting force than it had been. Gone were the days of paying hundreds of dollars for nickel and dime parts and of spending billions for exotic equipment that didn't work. The Navy had become the canniest of buyers. President Tocsin would have squelched that but had realized that it was better simply to take credit for the improved efficiency, and since my people did not seek credit, that had worked out well enough. But when it had come to the crunch, the Navy had supported me, not Tocsin. That had been the payoff.

Spirit was right. The Navy no longer needed Admiral Phist. We needed him -- to do the same job in the civilian sector. "But if not defense, then what?"

"The Navy learned to deal effectively with the industrial part of the military-industrial complex," she said. "Thanks to Gerald. But the political power of industry has only been blunted, not broken. Waste and fraud are rampant, and both the government and the consumers suffer. We need to bring down the prices of food and goods for the average citizen, bringing inflation to a complete halt. He's the one to do that."

"He surely is," I agreed. It was evident that Spirit had done more thinking on these matters than I had.

"And we'll need someone for interplanetary relations -- "

"Sir," Shelia said from across the room.

I got up and went to her.

"The opposition members are walking out of Congress," she explained.

"Walking out?" I repeated blankly.

"To prevent a quorum," Spirit said, rejoining me. "So that no official business can be done. It's an old ploy."

"Maybe I can appoint replacements," I said.

"Easier said than done," Spirit said darkly. "Those Congressmen are supposedly the representatives of their various districts. Your appointees would represent you, not their districts. That wouldn't go over well."

I nodded somberly, seeing her point. "And we're having enough trouble figuring out who to appoint to the major offices; filling congressional seats would be impossibly cumbersome."

"Agreed," she said. "As I see it, we have two convenient routes."

"Sir," Shelia said again.

I sighed. "Another problem? I haven't grasped the last one yet!"

"Not exactly. A delivery from Ganymede is here. They need your clearance."

"A delivery from Ganymede?" I repeated blankly.

"A baby," she said succinctly.

A baby! Abruptly I remembered. I had made a deal with a woman from Ganymede I called Dorian Gray: to return her baby to her, in exchange for her help. Her help had enabled me to survive my situation, but she had died. I had nevertheless contacted the premier of Ganymede, who had agreed to locate the baby. Now, two or three months later, he had evidently done so.

"Perhaps I should contact a nursery -- " Shelia murmured.

"No," I said. "This is my responsibility. Bring it in."

She spoke into her mike, giving the clearance.

"One is to nationalize Congress," Spirit resumed, unconcerned about the interruption. I regrouped my attention; we had been discussing ways to deal with the opposition walkout. "That would put the members under the authority of the government -- "

"But they are the government," I protested.

"No, you are the government," she reminded me.

"But still, what use is their advice and consent if they are compelled to be there by a government they oppose?"

She shrugged. "Not much, I suspect. The other alternative is abolition."

"What?"

But again we were interrupted. A Hispanic nurse entered, carrying a little boy. She approached me. "¿Señor Hubris?" she inquired.

"Si," I responded; evidently she did not speak English.

"Robertico," she said, holding out the baby boy.

"Robertico," I agreed somewhat numbly, taking him.

She turned smartly and exited, leaving me holding the baby. I was the cynosure of all present. I felt like a fool.

Robertico contemplated me. He was in doubt and considered crying, but I anticipated him and distracted him with a remark. "I promised to fetch you for your mother, Robertico,"

I said. "This will be your new home. Meet your new friends: Spirit, Coral, and Shelia."

Naturally he did not understand the words, for he was too young to talk, and in any event, I was speaking in English, but my tone and the manner in which I held him reassured him. He decided that this place was all right.

"May I?" Shelia inquired, holding out her hands. With relief I gave Robertico to her.

She sat him in her lap, facing him forward. His gaze fixed on the little transceiver screen and his expression became rapt. Evidently the moving picture was new and fascinating to him.

"Abolition," Spirit repeated, picking up where she had left off. "Simply abolish Congress, since it is no longer representative."

"But that would be -- "

"Dictatorial," she finished. "You have the power and would be foolish not to use it.

You gave them a chance and they refused to cooperate. Why not make an example?"

"But without them who will represent the people?"

"Do you suppose that very many of those folk represent the people?" she asked dryly.

Robertico started to cry. Evidently he had seen something on the screen that upset him.

"We've got to make better provision for him," I said.

"I have seen to it," Shelia said. "But we are strangers to him. I suspect he has not been in as stimulating an environment as this before."

"He needs some sleep," Spirit said.

"It will be another half hour before the child-bed arrives," Shelia said.

"Give him here," I said, taking the little boy back.

"He needs changing," Shelia said. "But the diapers -- "

"Aren't here yet," I concluded. So I simply held him and he quieted down.

I returned to the matter at hand. "To deprive the people of all representation -- that was never my intent."

"You can appoint people to represent them," Spirit said.

"I don't know. I -- " I broke off, for my arm was wet. Robertico was dripping. When would those diapers arrive?

"Sir," Shelia said. "Call from RedSpot."

RedSpot was our neighbor-nation to the south, whose city-bubbles occupied the great Red Spot of Jupiter. They would want to know my policy toward Latin Jupiter, since for the first time a Hispanic had ultimate power in North Jupiter. I could not avoid that call, lest I precipitate a diplomatic incident before I get properly established. "Put it on," I said wearily.

The face of the president of RedSpot appeared on the main screen. His eyes widened as he saw me standing with my shirt stained by leaking urine. "¡Señor Presidente!" he exclaimed.

"We're waiting for diapers," I muttered in Spanish.

"Diapers!" he repeated, evidently suppressing a smile. "Surely these are available locally?"

"Si," I agreed tightly.

The smile struggled to get out, causing his lips to twitch. "If not, perhaps we might arrange a shipment from RedSpot."

"Unnecessary, thank you, señor," I demurred.

"Lend-Lease, perhaps." Oh, he was enjoying this! "We prefer to be generous to our less fortunate neighbors."

"What is your business, sir?" I inquired through teeth that threatened to clench.

"Just to wish you well in your endeavors," he said, stepping on another smile as he glanced at the spreading stain on my shirt. "And to express my government's support for your new policy."

"What policy?" I demanded, lapsing into English. "I haven't been able to organize my own wets, uh, wits yet!"

"Well, naturally you, as a Hispanic leader, are sympathetic to our concerns. I am sure relations between North Jupiter and RedSpot will be very close."

He was getting ready to put the touch on me! Naturally RedSpot wanted more favorable terms on things like the debt owed to our big banks. I didn't want to alienate him, for I did appreciate his expression of support, but I simply wasn't ready to talk finance.

I was saved by the arrival of the diapers. "Señor, I am sure they will," I said quickly. "We must talk again soon! But at the moment I wouldn't want to burden you with the sight of a diaper being changed -- "

He laughed. "In RedSpot we teach our women to do such things, but then, we are not as liberated as you of the North." He faded out, shaking his head.

I looked around. "Where's a table?" I asked. "It's been about fourteen years since I changed a diaper, but I remember the principle."

Spirit showed me to a suitable table. She did not offer to do the job for me; she had had less experience at this than I, and Coral and Shelia were no better off. We stripped Robertico of his clothes and the sodden diaper. It turned out that he had done more than one number; the result was a real mess. Naturally we lacked equipment to deal with this problem properly. Coral fetched towels and tissues from the bathroom, and we used a damp washcloth for the cleaning. But the cloth was cold, and Robertico reacted with a howl of distress.

"Sir," Shelia said.

"You know a better way to do it?" I snapped.

"Call from Senator Stonebridge."

Oh. He would be concerned about the opposition walkout. What could I tell him?

I sighed. "Put him on," I said.

Stonebridge's face appeared on the main screen. He glanced at what was going on, seeming perplexed. "Minor crisis," I explained as I dried Robertico's bottom and set him down for the new diaper.

"I think you need a baby-sitter, Mr. President," he said gravely.

"I can't trust this boy to a stranger," I said. "He doesn't speak English."

"Few do, at that age," he pointed out.

All three women smiled. It was true: babies of this age did not speak at all. "But he has a Spanish heritage," I explained. "All he has heard spoken is Spanish. I would rather break him in to English gradually."

"There are bilingual baby-sitters," Stonebridge pointed out.

"None I know well enough to trust at the moment."

"With all due respect, Mr. President, I suggest that that is surely untrue. You have a fully competent bilingual baby-sitter available that you can trust."

"Evidently you know something I don't!" I gritted as I stuck my thumb on a pin. The diaper had some kind of self-stick fastener, but I had been unable, in my distracted state, to decipher it, so was using the old-fashioned pin that had been on the old diaper. Diapering an active baby, I was rediscovering, is no simple task.

"Your daughter."

I paused, my mouth dropping open. My daughter Hopie -- of course. She was fifteen years old now and eager for just such jobs as this. But she was with Megan.

I looked helplessly at Spirit. "I can't take Hopie away from Megan!"

"She would be safer here," Spirit said. "She has to attend school, and she will now be more of a target. Here she could be tutored and provided the same protection we are."

"But Megan -- "

"I will talk to her," my sister said firmly.

I sought to spread my hands but could not, because I had to hold Robertico. I picked him up, not bothering with the soiled pants; the diaper would have to do for now. My eye was caught by Senator Stonebridge's eye in the screen.

"If I may now bring up a somewhat less important concern," he said with a straight face.

"The walkout," I said.

"Exactly. The present government of North Jupiter is disintegrating. Prompt and decisive action is required if we are to retain a viable framework."

"I am not sure the prior framework remains viable," I said. "I have assumed power outside the normal framework, and I suspect there is no way the opposition representatives will accept that."

"Probably correct," he agreed. "Columnist Thorley has already dubbed your administration 'the Tyrancy.' "

"The Tyrancy!" I exclaimed. That was the first time I had heard that appellation applied to me, familiar as it was later to become. "Well, I suppose I am, technically, a tyrant. The original term refers to one who assumes power illegally. I am legal but not by the standard of the system that has hitherto governed Jupiter. Some of the ancient Greek tyrants were enlightened rulers."

"And some were despots," Stonebridge pointed out.

"Still, upon reflection, I think the shoe fits. I will try to be an enlightened tyrant.

So Thorley can call my administration the Tyrancy if he wants."

Stonebridge frowned. "You are not going to have him arrested?"

"Of course not! I have always respected freedom of the press, and of speech in general.

Thorley will always be free to express himself in public."

"Then I think you are not a tyrant by my definition."

"No, let me be called the Tyrant," I said, liking the sound of it better as I considered it. "That solves the problem of my title."

"Surely you jest!"

"No jest. I am the Tyrant, and my administration is the Tyrancy. I am making no pretense to honoring the old order."

"As you prefer, Mr. Tyrant," he said awkwardly.

"Just Tyrant," I said. "I will make that my title of honor. It will set me apart, appropriately."

"As you prefer," he repeated disapprovingly. "Now as to the walkout by the opposition -

- "

"That becomes immaterial. I am abolishing Congress."

"Sir?" he asked, startled.

"Let's face it, Senator," I said briskly, while Robertico played with the buttons on my shirt. "The average member of Congress is a tool of the special interests, regardless of his party. He is beholden to the political action committees that provide the bulk of the money he needs for his election campaigns, and a fair number are corrupt apart from that. Few actually, honestly, represent their constituents. The present -- prior -

- system of government is monstrously nonrepresentative in everything except name, and excruciatingly inefficient. The average man would be better off without it."

"But this is treason!" he protested.

"Not anymore," I said. "I am the new government; I merely have to find new avenues to implement my power. I'm sure I will find it much easier to balance the budget if I eliminate fraud and waste in the government -- and Congress is a nest of both."

"Sir, this -- this is unfeasible," he said, shocked. "All our institutions... there would be anarchy -- "

"Not if I appoint competent and honest people to run things," I said. "As soon as I get my priorities organized, I will be asking you to serve. In fact, I am asking you now: will you serve as my adviser on budgetary matters?"

His mouth thinned. "What is the force of that request, sir?"

"You mean, will you be arrested if you refuse? No, this is voluntary. I need good people to serve as my lieutenants, and I will heed the advice of those who do serve. I am committed to the balancing of the budget, and I feel that no individual is better qualified to advise me on that than you. Will you serve?"

Stonebridge was obviously upset and uncertain. "Let me take time to consider, sir.

There are implications that -- "

"Of course," I agreed. "But bear in mind that the sooner I get competent advice, the better it will be for Jupiter."

He faded out. I saw that Robertico was getting sleepy, so I cast about for a way to put him down.

"Hope, we have Hopie on the line," Spirit said.

"Put her on!"

Hopie's face appeared. "Oh, isn't he cute!" she exclaimed.

"Uh, I need -- " I began somewhat lamely.

"Yes, Daddy, Aunt Spirit explained. You're all upheavaled! You need a bottle, and a formula, and a crib, and some toys and a whole lot of time."

"I don't have any of those!"

"I know. I'd better get up there and take over."

"But your mother -- "

"Daddy, she understands."

"I'm not sure she does."

Spirit touched my hand. "She understands."

Evidently Spirit had talked directly to Megan. "Oh. Then -- "

"I'll catch a priority flight," Hopie said happily.

"The Navy will take you, dear," Spirit put in. "Can you be ready in..." She glanced at Shelia.

Emerald's face flicked on the screen. "Fifteen minutes," she said, and flicked off.

"Yes," Hopie agreed.

"You'll be here in two hours," Spirit told the girl.

"He'll wake before then, hungry," Hopie said. "Give him something to chew on."

"We'll try," I said.

"And change your shirt," Hopie instructed me.

I glanced down at myself. Yes, I needed a change. I started to work my way out of the shirt.

The screen blanked. "Now we'd better make the announcement about the abolition of Congress and assure the citizens that their interests will be represented," Spirit said briskly.

"But Robertico -- "

"We'll put some pillows on the floor; he'll be safe there."

They fetched pillows from the nearest beds elsewhere in the mansion and piled them on the floor. I set the baby down, but the moment I let go of him, he woke and screamed, and I had to pick him up again.

In addition, I discovered that I had no replacement shirt. In our rush to get here and get started, that detail had been neglected. "I will order more," Shelia said. She knew my sizes, of course; she knew everything about me that a secretary should know -- and more.

So I sat in a plush easy chair, shirtless, holding Robertico, with pillows braced about me. He settled back to sleep, and Spirit and I made notes for my next announcement.

"Sir," Shelia said.

I was coming to dread that word! "Not another crisis?"

"The Saturn Embassy," she said.

I sighed. "Put it on."

The face of the ambassador from Saturn came on the main screen. He took in my situation and scowled. "Perhaps I should return when you are less domestic, Mr. President," he said.

"Just call me Tyrant," I said. "What is your business?"

"My government wishes to clarify the status of interplanetary relations between Jupiter and Saturn, considering your recent change in government."

"Unchanged," I said.

"We would prefer an improvement."

"I'm amenable."

He seemed disconcerted. "Specifically -- "

"No specifics yet," I cut in. "If you come to us with positive proposals for the diminution of interplanetary tension, we shall reciprocate. It's up to you."

Still, he seemed unpleased. He was trying to measure me, and I wasn't giving him much substance. "Surely -- "

"So good to have had this dialogue," I said, signaling to Shelia, who cut him off.

"We'll have trouble with Saturn," Spirit said darkly. "They always work over a new administration."

"Precisely," I agreed. "I mean to be ready for the vultures as they descend."

We returned to work on the announcement, punctuated by calls from every type of party.

I dealt with them as well as I could, making no commitments. We formulated a list of prospects for service in the new administration; Spirit had largely prepared that beforehand and needed only my concurrence. It was complicated because there were so many necessary offices and so many people; matching the two together was a headache. We knew we had to get at least a patchwork government organized promptly, so that anarchy would not erupt.

Suddenly Hopie was there, lifting the sleeping baby from my shoulder; I had hardly been aware of the passage of that time. My daughter did know her business; she set up shop in a corner of the room (because Robertico felt comfortable with me but not apart from me) and saw to a feeding and another change of diaper. Coral brought in another shirt for me; evidently Shelia's order had arrived.

We continued, calling the people on our list, asking their participation, accepting their excuses, stressing that there was no coercion here: we wanted only those who would be committed to the welfare of Jupiter without reservation. Some were belligerent and some were afraid, but when they learned that it truly was voluntary, a number of these softened and did accept the positions. Some who turned down the offer later called back with a change of heart, and we accepted them. Slowly but satisfyingly the new framework was being erected.

I don't pretend that this was any genius of mine. Spirit had done the groundwork and now prompted me on the execution. I was like a duffer who assembles a complex device by following the simplistic step-by-step instructions provided. I was the figurehead to Spirit's strategy. That was nothing new; my genius is reading (and making an impression on) other people, while Spirit's is organizational. We have always been a team, and there is no shame in that. While it is true that I would be a sorry figure of a politician without Spirit, it is also true that she would be unable to perform without me.

Then Coral approached me. "Sir, it is time for you to rest," she said firmly.

"But there is so much to do!" I protested.

"You have been working without pause for ten hours," she informed me. "The others are dead on their feet, but they will not stop until you do."

I glanced around and saw that it was true. Spirit was drawn, and Shelia's eyes were red-rimmed. Hopie was asleep on the pillows with Robertico. Still, I demurred. "Just a little more work, and the list will be complete -- "

"That list will never be complete," she asserted. "I am charged with the preservation of your body, and that charge I shall honor, preserving it from all threats --

including that of your will. You must rest now, at least for a while." She took my arm and drew me firmly along.

The others did not protest, and I suffered myself to be conducted to the master bedroom. "Strip, wash, change," Coral ordered, and I obeyed. It did not bother me that she watched; she had seen me in dishabille many times before, for she was always close.

Once there had been a trap set for me in a urinal, so now she accompanied me to the bathroom too. One might suppose that a man would be nervous about having an attractive woman with him on such an occasion, but Coral was really part of my nuclear family.

In pajamas, I lay down on the huge empty bed, now feeling my own fatigue. Then another thought occurred. I sat up. "I just remembered another appointment to -- "

"Down, sir," Coral said.

"But it will only take a moment to -- "

She moved to me, put her arms about me, and bore me down on the bed. She had changed herself, to some kind of feminine robe that I know concealed some unfeminine hardware; Coral was never without armament, ready for any emergency. She put what is called the Scarf-hold on me, her right arm circling my neck, and, gripping my right shoulder, her left hand hauling on my right sleeve, her legs spread and braced against the surface of the bed. I think I could have broken that hold, had I wished to make sufficient effort, for my strength was greater than hers, but I wasn't sure, and in any event, it wasn't worth the effort. So I lay there, conscious of her right breast nudging my cheek as she breathed and of the sight of her left breast through the parted robe, and I relaxed.

When she saw that I was willing to rest, she released her hold and kissed me. Then she stretched out beside me on the bed and slept herself, lightly and instantly, like a cat. It is intended as no affront to Coral that I wished she was Megan; the separation from my wife remained fresh and painful but final; when Megan had consented to unite with me, that had been final, and when she sundered that union, for reasons that were certainly sufficient, that, too, was final. It was I who had changed, not her, I had passed from the stage of Politician to the stage of Tyrant, and she had never consented to be married to the latter. I understood, respected her decision fully, and did not question it, but still there was a void without her.

My tension alerted Coral, who woke. "Damn it, sir, sleep!" she whispered. She changed position, took hold of my head, and drew it in to her bosom. It was a fine and fragrant bosom, but I think it was more the feeling of her arms around me, holding me close, that brought my submission. Helse had held me that way, so long ago, and Roulette, too, less long ago, and Shelia, recently. I relaxed, comforted, and suddenly slept.

Chapter 4 -- BETWEEN CT AND BH

I woke many hours later, somewhat refreshed. Coral was up, of course; she had always had a fast recharge time.

We assembled for breakfast -- I'm not sure what the hour actually was, but we treated it as morning -- at the White Bubble dining room, served by the WB staff. Spirit, Coral, Shelia, Ebony, Hopie, and Robertico. I don't remember what we ate; my attention has been increasingly absorbed by concerns other than food as I grow older, so I tend not to notice meals, anyway, unless they are for some reason remarkable in their own right.

I deliberately kept the conversation on trivial matters, I would soon enough be overwhelmed by the consequential ones. "Hopie, we'll have to arrange for your education," I said.

She made a wry face. "Daddy, I'm fifteen years old. Most of what they teach in school is useless, anyway. I'd be better off without it."

The others ate, remaining carefully neutral. They knew I supported education.

"I had in mind bringing in a competent tutor," I said. "Surely she would teach you useful material."

"But the required courses are jokes!" she protested. "Even the best teachers can't make a pointless course worthwhile."

I frowned. "What course is pointless?"

She hesitated, realizing that she could walk into a mire of her own making. Teenagers can be imperious, but they are not, despite some appearances, total fools. "What courses did you take, Daddy, once you were my age?"

That set me back, for my formal schooling had abruptly stopped at that age. That had been by no choice of mine, however. "I had some lessons from life," I said. "I would have preferred those of school."

"So you had no more school -- and where are you now?" she demanded triumphantly.

"But I did have further education," I pointed out. "I took many courses in the Navy --

more than I would have in normal school. I learned a great deal."

"But those were military classes. At least they had some application to life."

"Many were," I agreed. "But many were necessary to fill out the education I had not gained from school."

She changed her tack. "Well, did they teach you geometry?"

"Certainly. In space, maneuvers are three-dimensional, and a proper understanding is essential to -- "

"Plane geometry," she said with disdain. "How to solve triangles by erecting perpendiculars with a compass and straightedge. You did that?"

"Well, no, not exactly. We used the computer simulations to do the underlying calculations and projections, but --

"We must do it by hand," she said witheringly. "Two years of it. We've had computers for ten centuries, but they won't let us use them!"

"Six centuries," I said. "But it is necessary to know the fundamentals, in order to appreciate what the computers do."

"Seven. Does it take two years of ever-more-obscure two-dimensional examples to appreciate what the computers do in three-dimensional space?"

Spirit turned away, masking half a smile. I was in trouble! "I suppose the basics could be abridged," I said. "Perhaps one semester, and then the computer applications for the more advanced work."

"Exactly!" she said triumphantly. "I've already had three semesters of it, and none of it about computer applications. Why should I continue?"

"Name another useless subject," I said.

"English."

"Now I realize you are bilingual, as are a number of Hispanics," I said, "but English is the primary language of Jupiter, and it behooves those of us who have adopted this planet to -- "

"Verbs and nouns," she said. "The same things, every year, over and over."

"Well, again it is necessary to know the basics before -- "

"No, it isn't," she said. "I learned to speak English and Spanish before I ever heard of the parts of speech. Everyone else did too. It is no more necessary to know the names of the parts of speech in order to use the language correctly than it is to know the names of the muscles and ligaments of the body in order to live and breathe."

I sat back, considering that. She had a point! "But surely those who were brought up in less literate homes than your own require this form of education, so that -- "

"No, they don't!" she said hotly. "They need to be instructed in the correct forms directly. The parts of speech are merely a means to an end, and the educational system has let the means become the end! They're trying to turn out illiterate students who can name the parts of speech!"

"Surely you exaggerate!" I said, daunted. Where had I been warned before about means becoming ends? "The basics remain useful as underlying knowledge, much as the knowledge of the basic principles of mathematics remains useful in the computer age. Speaking correctly is not necessarily a simple -- "

"Define a gerund," she said.

I concentrated. I remembered the term but had forgotten to what it applied. "An animal like a hamster?"

"Gerbil," she said, correcting me in the manner I had corrected her about the period of computers but refusing to be distracted by the humor. Now Shelia turned away, smiling.

"It's strange that you cannot define a gerund, Daddy, since you just used one."

"I did? Where?"

"A gerund is a verb used as a noun, ending in 'ing.' You said 'speaking,' and that's a gerund."

Now I remembered. "I guess I did, daughter."

She closed in for the kill. "You knew how to use it before you learned the name of that part of speech in school, and you knew how to use it after you had forgotten its name.

Of what use is the name of it to you?"

I spread my hands. "No use that I can fathom at the moment, Hopie."

"Would two more years of instruction in gerunds and participles and indirect objects and dependent clauses and parallel structure improve your ability to speak?"

I laughed, as much at her vehemence as at her point. "I suspect not."

"Then why foist off this useless drill on me? It won't improve my speech, either."

Indeed, it would not, for she had been speaking to me most effectively. I was privately proud of her ability to make her point. She was a bright girl who reminded me a lot of Spirit, and I was always pleased to be reminded of that.

"What would you have me do, Hopie?" I asked. "Abolish school?"

She considered. "No. School could be useful -- should be useful, if correctly instituted. What you need to do is make the schools relevant."

"And you know what reforms contemporary education requires to make it relevant?"

"I know where to start," she said.

"Well, start there."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I think that's an incomplete sentence."

"What are you telling me, Daddy? That I don't have to take those stupid courses anymore?"

I glanced at Spirit. "The Department of Education remains unassigned?"

"Unassigned," she agreed. "We got tired last night."

I returned to Hopie. "You are now in charge of the Department of Education. Do your job."

"My job?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Reform education."

"But I'm only fifteen!"

"So?"

"That's too young to -- "

"By whose definition?"

"But the minimum age -- "

"The old order changeth. This is the Tyrant speaking. You are old enough."

"But -- but -- I really wouldn't know how to -- I mean, who would even listen to me?"

"The school system," I said. "Of course, you will want a staff to advise you and implement policy. I suggest that you select it carefully. Perhaps some of the really good teachers you know."

"You mean -- honest? Me?"

"Honest, honey. I think the experience will be as good an education for you as the conventional system would have provided. Just keep in mind that many other people will be profoundly affected by your decisions."

"Um," she agreed, daunted.

Breakfast broke up, and we got to work. Hopie saw to Robertico's needs -- she was certainly good in that capacity -- while she assimilated the magnitude of the responsibility I had laid on her. Spirit and Shelia and I adjourned to the conference room.

"First you will want to look at these," Spirit told me, showing a sheaf of papers.

"What are they?"

"Your daily news summary. It's a normal presidential service. The top man has to be kept informed."

"You have gone over these, of course?"

"Of course," she agreed.

"Just acquaint me with what I need to know to function."

"Saturn is making a move," she said.

I sighed. "That's to be expected, isn't it? They always work over a new president."

"Always," she agreed. "But this is not a normal presidential transition, and so this may not be a normal Saturnist move."

"Exactly what is it?"

"They are shipping troops to Ganymede."

I frowned. "That's their prerogative, isn't it? It is a Saturnian puppet-state."

"Less so than it was, thanks to your tenure as ambassador there. I think you should talk to the ambassador from Ganymede."

"I can call the premier himself, if -- "

"No. That call would be tapped and entirely too official. This has to be private."

"Shelia, get me the ambassador," I said. My secretary had evidently profited by the night's rest; she looked perky again.

"He is on his way, sir," she said.

"I see." A personal meeting signaled something sensitive indeed.

We got down to the remaining appointments. All of the top ones were to people I knew personally and trusted; trust was more important than competence here. Senator Stonebridge was in charge of economics, Admiral Phist would handle industry, Spirit herself had the interplanetary arena, Hopie had education, Roulette Phist had crime, my other sister Faith had poverty, and our gofer Ebony had population. I confess that this was something of a hodgepodge; there would be plenty of redefinition later. But it was a start. Meanwhile the existing institutions of the state level, from governor on down, remained in force, and, for now, the Supreme Court. So we had a haphazardly functioning government. I planned to do substantial interviewing, approving all the top personnel of these departments, so that they would be both loyal and competent. That was, of course, my special skill; there would be no bad apples in our top echelons.

Next we would turn to policy. But before we could get into it, the Ganymedan ambassador arrived. He was a somewhat harried man in his fifties, a political nonentity, basically a mouthpiece. I had never met him before but hadn't needed to. At this point I don't even recollect his name, but that doesn't matter.

We exchanged normal amenities, then got down to business, "What is this about Saturn troops?" I asked.

"Señor, I am instructed to be absolutely candid with you," he said nervously. "The premier begs complete privacy."

"Granted," I said.

"The Saturn troops -- they are not coming to bolster the present government of Ganymede. They are coming to assume it."

This was electrifying news. Now I understood the need for secrecy. "The premier -- to be deposed? Ganymede to become a complete puppet-state?"

He nodded gravely. "Señor, this is not at the behest of the premier. He cannot ask your help, but -- " He shrugged.

I pondered. Naturally the premier could not formally enlist my aid; he governed a Communist planet that owed substantial credit to the Union of Saturnine Republics. If they pulled the rug out, his administration would collapse in days, unless bolstered by some other power. But if he permitted them to depose him and assume total power, he would be finished.

I did not agree with all of the premier's objectives or methods, but I had come to know him well enough during my own term as ambassador, and we had what would pass for a private friendship. In addition, I was sure that his administration posed a great deal less of a problem for me than a straight Saturnist puppet regime would. I remembered how Saturn had tried to implant interplanetary missiles on Ganymede not that many years ago and triggered the Ganymedan Missile Crisis, which had brought Jupiter and Saturn to the verge of war. It was entirely possible that Saturn would be trying this again, under the cover of the confusion of my assumption of government. Such missiles, once in place and activated, would represent an almost literal dagger poised at Jupiter; our interplanetary policy would be severely circumscribed, and the balance of interplanetary power would shift decisively to Saturn.

This was a crisis worthy of my immediate attention, certainly! "You know that Jupiter cannot tolerate such a change in our sphere," I told the ambassador.

He nodded gravely. "The premier believes you will know what to do."

"I will figure out what to do," I agreed. "Meanwhile tell the premier to arrange a leak of information, so that Jupiter can be apprised of this development without implicating him. You understand, Señor."

"The premier understands."

"There must be no further private communication between us. We must play our parts perfectly."

"You will support... the present regime?"

"In my fashion," I agreed. "But my words will not necessarily indicate that. The premier understands."

"Gracias," he said with perfect sincerity.

That was it; the ambassador departed, and we considered. "I think we shall have to have a confrontation," I said.

Spirit nodded soberly. "We shall have to be prepared to go to war. If our resolve falters, even momentarily..."

"Get in touch with Emerald. She'll have to get the Navy ready, without making any obvious moves yet."

Shelia placed the call. Emerald's dusky face appeared on the main screen. "You have a small crisis or two, sir?"

I hesitated. I knew that the Saturn monitors could intercept supposedly private communications; to tell her the real problem now would be a giveaway. "Um, Admiral, I'm considering reorganizing the Navy. Naturally I want to consider the input of those most concerned. The details may become tedious -- um, suppose you stop by here, so we can discuss them at leisure?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She read me well, as all my women do; she knew that something important was up. "A personal visit? I'm not sure my husband would approve, sir."

I smiled. "I won't lay a hand on you, woman!"

"He isn't worried about your hands, sir. It's mine that concern him."

I laughed. Emerald certainly had facile hands; how well I remembered! She and I were both fifty, but it was mutual fun to imagine that we were twenty-two again. "Then bring him along!"

"One hour," she said. Her ship was not far from New Wash, as she was guarding me personally, in her fashion, but she needed time to fetch her husband, Admiral Mondy (retired). Of course, I needed to talk with him, too, for he was the expert on intelligence. He would be an excellent consultant for this crisis, which was, of course, why Emerald had suggested his presence. It was possible she already had an inkling of the Saturn threat.

The press of contacts resumed. Shelia shielded me from all but the most important calls, but even those were constant. Already we were instituting a subsidiary network of secretaries, to screen out the barrage of junk calls. It seemed that every member of Congress, including the opposition contingent that had walked out as a bloc, was outraged by my decision to abolish that institution, and every one of them felt it incumbent upon himself to advise me of his distress personally. But wherever possible we were appointing the same people, whether of my own party or the opposition party, as representatives of their districts: true representatives with no other function than to advise me of the needs and concerns of their constituencies. Those who accepted such appointment -- which entailed a concomitant acceptance of my authority as Tyrant --

were granted access to me or simply provided with what they requested by someone in my developing chain of command. I may make it seem, in this narration, as if nothing much was happening apart from my dialogues with particular individuals, but that was not the case. Spirit had a number of aides who understood her purposes, and they were doing much of the job of organization while Spirit and I focused on the high spots. I repeat: I was in many respects a figurehead, while my sister actually ran the show. Our campaign organization was converting rapidly to our administrative organization. This was not intended to be an application of the notorious spoils system, but the most convenient way to post responsible people in responsible positions rapidly. So we did have a mechanism for handling specific problems but needed to broaden it enormously, and the former members of Congress represented prime candidates for the new offices.

They would not be given power until we were satisfied that they would use it properly, but they were given token recognition -- and when one called, I had to answer, even if I did no more than congratulate him on his patriotism in facilitating the new order.

You see, in politics, appearance is generally more important than reality, and the reassignment of existing representatives facilitated the appearance of a smooth transition.

Thus the hour passed, hectically, until Emerald and Mondy arrived. Then Spirit and I took them into another room, leaving Shelia to fend for herself, which she was competent to do. She would let me know what decisions she had made in my name when I returned. There are those who think that a cripple is necessarily a nonentity; this is never the case, and Shelia was as intelligent, competent, and experienced a person as I had on my staff. Ninety-five percent of the time she knew my answers before I did, and she could make a pretty good guess on the other five percent. I suspect, in retrospect, that my act of love with her was neither as spontaneous nor as strange as it seemed at the time; it was my recognition of her importance to me. It was not the type of recognition I could give while my marriage to Megan was sound, but the moment my marriage ended (in fact, if not in name), the overt expression of that relationship was possible and perhaps necessary. It was not that I loved her, though she loved me; I have had only two true loves in my life, Helse and Megan. All of my women love me, but all recognize the limitation of my nature. I do for each what I can, when I can, inadequate as this may be.

My romance with Emerald, of course, was long dead. We retained the dream of the past, but today our respect for each other had other forms of expression, as her husband understood. We got right down to business.

"Saturn is sending troops to take over Ganymede," I said. "What do we do?"

Mondy had been middle-aged when I met him; now he was old. For some men seventy is not old, but for him it was. He looked terrible: bald and fat and pallid. But his mind remained murkily penetrating. "You underestimate the problem, sir," he said. "Those are not mere troops; they are technicians."

"Technicians? I don't see how -- "

"Bearing sophisticated new equipment to recede the locks at Tanamo," he concluded.

Spirit whistled. "That puts a different complexion on it!" she exclaimed.

"We thought it might," Emerald said, a trifle smugly.

Tanamo was the big naval base on Ganymede, whose transfer I had arranged during my ambassadorship. It had moved from the control of Jupiter to the control of Ganymede. In exchange Ganymede had agreed to cease all covert fomentation of revolution and shipment of arms to dissident elements of Latin Jupiter. This had eliminated a prime source of irritation and saved Jupiter much mischief. Former President Tocsin, of course, had done his best to undermine this accord, preferring open hostility, as hostility facilitated his endorsement of the monstrous military-industrial complex of Jupiter.

There were great profits to be made in the fever of threatening war. It was my intent to dismantle that complex, and Admiral Phist was just the man to do it. But this move by Saturn -- that could torpedo everything.

I shook my head. "Why?" I asked. "I was ready to get along with Saturn!"

"Did you suppose Tocsin was the only tool of the special interests?" Mondy inquired.

"The ruling council of Saturn is engaged in a continual and savage struggle for power, both internal and external. They perceive an opportunity to achieve a significant advantage during your period of indecision, which will not only put Jupiter on the defensive but will thoroughly refute dissent in their own population. That dissent has been growing in strength in recent years, spearheaded by people like Khukov."

"Khukov!" I exclaimed. "I have no quarrel with him." For Admiral Khukov had been the other party to the compromise of Ganymede; together we had helped both Ganymede and ourselves. I had taught him Spanish, privately, and he had taught me Russian; these secret abilities were most useful on occasion.

"It is the Politburo that has the quarrel with him," Mondy said. "He has criticized their inefficiency, such as their repeated failure to become self-sufficient in food grains, but his power base is such that they cannot liquidate him. But a coup like this would enable them to eliminate threats both external and internal."

It was coming clear. "The Ganymedan ambassador said they planned to depose the premier."

"That would be the premier's first concern, naturally," Mondy agreed. "But that is only the initial step. It is necessary because the premier insists on honoring the covenant he made with you. He will not pervert Tanamo or resume clandestine arms shipments. Once they have changed the government of Ganymede, there is no practical limit to their mischief."

"We'll have planet-buster missile bases there again!" Emerald put in.

"Obviously this must be stopped before it starts," I said. "Emerald, you can call an alert -- "

"No, sir," Mondy said. "That would not be expedient."

"But we can't let it happen!" I protested.

"There are ways and ways," he said. "Jupiter has mismanaged interplanetary relations for so long that it has come to be expected. You have a chance to change that."

"But if we don't intercept that ship before it reaches Ganymede, there will be hell to pay!"

"And if we do, Saturn will know who told," he countered. "The premier of Ganymede will be finished -- by assassination, if not by political means."

"But you knew!" I said. "So I didn't have to find out through the premier."

"I found out, once given the hint," Mondy said. "My source was coerced, and connected to the premier. I must not betray it."

I sighed. "No, you must not, and I must not. But we can't sit idly by while that ship lands. How do we proceed?"

"We assess our resources and our desires. Then we formulate a program to best utilize the former to achieve the latter. We stand to gain considerably if we manage this correctly."

"Gain?" I demanded. "If we even come out even, I'll be surprised!"

"Ganymede could shift orbits, from Saturn to Jupiter," he said. "That would be the minor gain."

"It would be a phenomenal gain! It would signal the failure of Communism to establish any lasting foothold in the Jupiter sphere. And I can see how, if we save the premier's hide, that shift could occur. But if that's minor, what would be the major gain?"

"We could in effect shift Saturn itself to Jupiter orbit," he said seriously.

I whistled. "You had better spell out the details!"

"If an issue is made and Saturn loses, the present government there will fall. The man who manages to resolve the crisis will probably step into power there."

"And that man would be -- " I said, seeing it.

"Admiral Khukov."

"Admiral Khukov," I echoed.

"Who remembers his benefactors, by whatever device."

"Who remembers," I agreed. "With him in power, there -- "

Mondy nodded. "You could end the cold war."

"And make the Solar System safe for mankind," I said. "What a dream!"

"But at a price. The confrontation could destroy the System."

"Is it worth the risk?" I asked musingly.

"That doesn't matter. The situation is already upon us."

I sighed. "It is indeed!"

We hashed it out, and Mondy and Emerald departed. We had devised a strategy, but we all knew it was risky. We could indeed precipitate a devastating System war if we miscalculated at any stage or even if luck went against us. I would not have entered into such a program had I been able to avoid it, but as Mondy said, we were already committed. If Ganymede became a Saturnian military base, Jupiter would be in dire peril. And Ganymede would become that, if we did not act.

First we had to develop a legitimate source of information, so that Saturn would not know that the premier had told us. Until we had that we could not afford to make our first move.

Meanwhile, the job of setting up our new departments proceeded irregularly. Senator Stonebridge advised me that he was assembling a package of programs that should halt inflation and balance the budget but that there would be formidable resistance to it.

"Resistance -- to accomplishing what I have been installed to accomplish?" I asked.

"Why?"

"Because the standard of living of the average citizen will have to be materially lowered," he said. "This entails a universal income tax of fifty percent, and -- "

"Fifty percent!" I exclaimed. "Impossible!"

"I told you there would be resistance," he said.

"Suppose we make it a flat tax of twenty-five percent? That seems more equitable."

"Suppose you find me an additional source of revenue that will produce six hundred billion dollars per year?" he returned.

"I'll look for it," I agreed. But I knew I was in trouble. There were no easy answers economically, but somehow I had to find a way to balance that budget without triggering a revolution on Jupiter.

We watched the Saturn ship as it moved steadily through space toward our sphere.

Theoretically it was one of a regular supply convoy, relatively innocent; we had no reason to intercept it, other than the one we could not reveal. It was scheduled to arrive in seven days if we did not find a pretext to stop it.

We tapped its communications with the home base and with Ganymede, hoping to intercept a revealing message. The transmissions were coded, of course, but our technicians decoded them as rapidly as they were sent. Saturn was aware of that; Saturn did the same to ours. Saturn was too canny to put anything truly private into any such transmissions. So we got nothing, as expected -- and the ship moved on. Six days till arrival now.

My sister Faith came to see me. I had appointed her to the Department of Poverty: it was her job to eliminate it. She was having a problem getting started. "We need full employment, at fair wages, with fair working conditions," she said. "My consultants tell me that there simply aren't enough jobs and that legislation will be required to define the wages and conditions. The only possible answer..." She hesitated.

"Out with it," I said.

"Is for the government to become the Employer of Last Resort, for all those who cannot otherwise find work."

I called Stonebridge. "What's the price tag for the government to become the Employer of Last Resort for all the unemployed?"

"Three hundred billion dollars minimum," he replied without hesitation. "That assumes a thirty-three percent cost of administration, which I fear is conservative."

"But if they were working, paying their way -- "

"At what jobs? Believe me, Tyrant, it would be far cheaper to put them all on welfare -

- and cheaper yet to simply hand them each the money."

"But that would lead to complete indifference to working for a living!"

"Exactly. Therefore, that is no solution to your problem. Don't try to eliminate unemployment that way." He faded off.

I sighed as I returned to Faith. "Let's see whether Gerald Phist is making progress at providing new jobs." I called him.

"Good news, Tyrant," Phist said as he came on screen. "I am developing a program that will virtually eliminate waste and fraud, and reduce the cost of industry by enabling us to produce the same products and services with only seventy percent of the personnel!"

"Seventy percent," I said, not reacting with quite the joy he expected. "That means --

"

"About thirty million jobs saved," he finished. "No more inefficient duplication of effort."

"And thirty million more unemployed," I concluded.

"Well, perhaps new industries can be developed to take up the slack -- "

"Work on it," I advised him, signing off.

I looked at Faith, and she looked at me. "Believe me," I told her, "when I find an answer, you'll be the first to know. Meanwhile, work things out as well as you can."

"I think you're in over your head, Tyrant," she replied.

"In more than one respect," I agreed wanly. Certainly the Tyrancy was not getting off to a polished start.

Meanwhile, that dread ship moved closer to Ganymede. It might as well have been a planet-buster headed inexorably for the heart of the Planet of Jupiter!

We tried to arrange for a "coincidental" encounter with the ship: a playboy yacht that lost its bearings and strayed into the Saturn vessel's path. But the ship was the soul of courtesy, putting on the screen an English-speaking officer, who provided meticulous and accurate bearings for the stray. Now there were only five days till arrival.

Roulette called. She was in charge of crime -- the elimination thereof. "Crime is costing the planet hundreds of billions of dollars per year," she informed me. "Much of it relates to drugs and gambling. But to eliminate those we have to eliminate the hard-core criminal element. We can spot most of the bad types, but can you keep them out of circulation?"

More unemployed! "I'll work on it," I told her without conviction.

"She's onto an ugly truth," Spirit said. "Ninety percent of the crime is done by ten percent of the criminals. That is, most people may stray once or twice but aren't hard-core, while a few are solidly into it. We have to deal with them."

"How?" I asked. "I seem to remember a debate with Thorley that bore on this, and he was tearing me up. If we imprison all the hard-corists, we are in effect supporting them at the expense of the state, and that will, as Stonebridge will surely advise me, add to the deficit. But I really don't like capital punishment."

She half smiled. "Maybe you should put Thorley in charge of crime."

"Thorley is a good man," I said seriously. "We differ on principle, but I respect his competence and integrity. If I thought there was the ghost of a chance that he would work for the Tyrancy -- "

She shook her head. "Not even the suggestion of the ghost of a chance. Have you seen his recent columns?"

"I've been too busy."

"You have been most eloquently castigated. He makes you seem a complete ass, and dangerous as well."

"All true," I said, smiling.

"Most of the other critics are silent. They are waiting to see what happens to Thorley."

"Nothing will happen to Thorley!" I snapped. "I honor freedom of the press; you know that."

"All dictators promise freedom and reform," she reminded me. "Few follow through."

"Asoka did," I said.

She shrugged. "As I recall, Asoka had some consolidation to do at the outset."

"And so do I. What next, on that Saturn doom ship?"

"How about a Naval exercise that happens to cut off its approach to Ganymede?"

We explored that. Emerald had sent a representative, a lower officer who was conversant with the current situation of the Jupiter Navy. That enabled me to get information without going on the beam to her ship and also protected my privacy.

"Sir," the officer said, "that isn't feasible. Such exercises have to be scheduled well in advance and planned meticulously. The Saturnines know all of our schedules, as we know theirs. Such a deviation would be well-nigh impossible, and even the attempt would alert them to our real problem. They are not fools, sir."

Which was exactly what I had suspected. Naval fleets are not turned on a dime; I had learned that well during my own Naval command. If we tried to arrange something on the spur of the moment, it would be a virtual advertisement that we had some pressing ulterior motive. We might as well challenge the ship outright.

But that I was not ready to do. Mondy's advice was sound: Do not let Saturn know that the premier of Ganymede had tipped us off. Learn about the ship some other way.

Hopie came to me in her official capacity, distraught. "I went to my teachers," she said, "and they gave me all sorts of fancy reasons why all the present subjects are necessary. I don't believe them, but I can't convince them. I can't find anyone who agrees with me to advise me."

I smiled. "All Tyrants should have such a problem! Most men of power are surrounded by yes-men who only echo what the leader wants to hear. That's no good."

"Daddy, you aren't helping," she said severely.

Something clicked in my mind. "I can give you an excellent source of advice whose notions will agree with those of no one you know but who can really critique contemporary education. Listen to him and argue with him, and you will surely emerge with some positive ideas."

She viewed me somewhat distrustfully. "Daddy, you're up to something."

"Of course I am," I agreed. "But what I tell you is true."

"All right, I'll bite. Who?"

"Thorley."

"Thorley!" she exclaimed, shocked.

"Go to him. Tell him your problem. Ask his advice. If he fails you, I'll suggest another name."

"He wouldn't help you in anything!" she said.

"But you he just might help. You're not the Tyrant; you're just an underling trying to do a job. That, he might understand."

She shook her head doubtfully. "All right, Daddy, I'll call your bluff. But you'd better be ready with another name." She flounced off.

Spirit nodded. "Tyrant, you play an interesting game."

"You know he won't turn her down."

"I know. Still -- "

"She's fifteen. Old enough to wrestle with reality. And it's the only way we'll ever get Thorley's input for the Tyrancy."

Spirit shrugged, not debating it. We returned to the problem of the ship.

"QYV has sources," I said.

"But do we want to risk exposure of that connection?"

"If that ship lands, that and the status of Jupiter may become academic."

"There is that," she agreed.

"I have something for Reba, anyway."

So I put in a call to Q. A diagram flashed momentarily on the screen. "Got it, sir,"

Shelia said, and put it on again as a still picture. She had captured it on her recording so that now I could study it at leisure without holding open the connection.

QYV (pronounced "kife") was a very private party.

The diagram was a stylized map of a section of New Wash. One chamber was marked. "I'm not ready to go there yet myself," I said. "I'll send Ebony with the package." The package was my private narrative of my twenty years as a politician, leading to the moment I assumed the office of Tyrant; I had taken a few minutes to scribble the last sentences, so that it ended at the very point at which this present manuscript begins.

QYV had become the repository for these manuscripts; I knew they were safe there.

I gave the package and the address to Ebony to deliver. She could no longer run errands as she had when she was only our gofer, for now she was head of the Department of Population, and a Secret Service man tagged along with her, but I doubted that anyone would pay much attention. Ebony was very good at being anonymous.

"And tell her this," I said. " 'I need a pretext.' She will understand."

"Got it, sir," she said, and departed.

I brooded over the blip on the screen, now four days distant. "Maybe a rogue ship, a pirate," I said. "Something out of our control, seeking plunder."

"Can't," Spirit said. "We cleaned the pirates out of space, remember?"

"For the first time I wish there were a pirate left!"

"Even if there were, it wouldn't have either the nerve or the power to take on a Saturnian ship. That's a cruiser, theoretically converted to merchant duty, but you can bet she can blast anything less than a Jupiter cruiser out of space -- and will, if provoked. The Saturnians aren't lily-livered the way we are."

"I'll gild that lily-liver before I let that ship dock!" I swore. But she was right, as she always was. We could take out that ship, but we would have to do it directly, using the Navy -- and that would be an act of war. That was to be done only as a last resort.

For one thing, if we challenged the Saturn ship and it did not turn back, we would have to blast it -- and that would destroy any proof we might have had of its designs.

It seemed that we were caught between being in the wrong, which would be a very bad beginning for the Tyrancy on the interplanetary scale, and allowing Saturn to achieve a significant, perhaps critical, tactical advantage. Scylla and Charybdis -- or in the contemporary parlance, CT and BH. To be caught between contra-terrene matter, whose very touch would render a person into something like a miniature nova, and a black hole, that would suck him in and crush him to the size of the nucleus of an atom. I rather liked the imagery but not the situation.

"SeeTee and BeeAitch," Spirit murmured, echoing my unspoken thought.

We continued to handle routinely hectic matters, trying to get the new government formed enough to function while reassuring parties of both the planetary and interplanetary scenes that everything was under control. Many functions had continued for a while on inertia, but the existing structure was deteriorating, and we had constantly to shore it up on a patchwork basis.

Ebony returned. "She took your package and sent you this one," she reported, handing me a small box. "She said it's a fair exchange but that there need be no messenger for the next."

"Thank you, Ebony," I said. I would certainly have to deal with Reba directly -- but not until this crisis had been negotiated. "How is your own project going?"

"There are too many people," she said simply. "I went to the library and did some reading. We'd be better off with half our present number, but more keep coming in from RedSpot, and more keep being born. But the resources are running out."

"Have you a program to deal with this threat?"

She spread her hands. "Sir, short of a planet-buster war, I don't think anything would work."

"Keep working on it," I told her. "Root out some experts -- Shelia can find their names for you -- and see what they say. You're one of the common folk; I want to know what you think is best, once you know the full story."

"I'd rather just be your gofer," she said.

"Think larger," I advised.

We opened the QYV package. It was a miniature holo projector that projected the image of a sheet of paper on which was scribbled the military designation of a ship. As a former Navy man, I knew the system, but I didn't recognize the type.

We summoned the Navy officer and showed him the designation. He squinted at it, puzzled. "That's not one of ours, sir."

"It has to be," I said. "That's a JupeNav designation."

He frowned. "I realize that, sir, but I also know our listings. There's no ship by that designation."

I got a glimmer of a notion. "How about a sub?"

"Sir, I wouldn't know about that. All subs are classified."

"Precisely. Because their location must be secret at all times, so the enemy cannot take them out by blind fire at the specific coordinates. But this could be one such."

"It could, sir," he agreed, discomfited. Regular Navy personnel did not feel easy about subs, because a sub was a ship-destroyer. In my term in the Navy I had never dealt with a sub. I had, however, had some rather recent experiences with them and fully respected their devious potential.

"Put out a call, Navy protocol, for that ship to contact the Tyrant," I said.

"But sir, without knowledge of its location, a sealed beam communication is impossible!"

"An open call," I clarified.

"But a general call -- anybody could read it!" he protested, appalled.

"Saturn reads our sealed transmissions, too, and deciphers them as fast as we do," I pointed out. "But how much attention do they pay to unclassified, uncoded calls?"

"Very little," he conceded. "It would hardly be feasible to track every open call.

There are thousands of routine transmissions every minute. Still -- "

"So an open call may be the most private kind we can make, in practice."

"Well, sir, if you look at it that way..." He was obviously distressed.

"That is the way I look at it," I agreed.

He stiffened and saluted. "As you wish, sir."

I returned his salute, and he turned stiffly and departed.

"Sir," Shelia said.

"Woman, one of these days I'm going to gag you!" I exclaimed. "You don't even let me have five seconds to relax between crises!"

"You told me to cut you off at ten o'clock, local time," she reminded me. "It is that time."

Coral came forward. "Day is over, Tyrant. To bed with you."

"But that sub -- "

"Won't answer you directly. Those vessels don't keep their locations secret by sending any kind of transmission. It will reach you in its own time and fashion. You can relax."

"But there's still so much to -- "

She reached up and caught me by the ear. "Move, Tyrant!"

Spirit smiled and sent Shelia an end-of-shift signal. I knew that the enforced break was for them as much as for me; we could not afford to run ourselves down to the point of irrationality. I went.

But the notion of that sub still held me. A sub could take out a ship readily enough, but that would still be an overt act of war. Reba must have had something more sophisticated in mind. How could -- ?

Coral did not nag me. She simply led me to the bathroom, undressed me, and shoved me into the sonic shower. I continued to mull over the sub. Could it make the attack seem like an accident? Yet the Saturnians were fully as canny about such things as we.

"Enough," Coral announced. "You're clean."

Damn it, there was no way to make a torpedo from a sub seem like an accident! And what of the innocent personnel aboard that Saturn ship? I was sure that they had not been told of its mission; only the technicians would know. I had destroyed whole ships in space during my Navy career but had never enjoyed it, and my taste for carnage was no greater now. What was needed was not destruction but to make that ship turn back.

"Sir, you aren't moving," Coral said. "Come out and retire; I don't want to have to remind you again."

Suppose there were some way to preempt that ship's controls, forcing it to deviate from its course? If it drifted out of its assigned spacelane, we could legitimately challenge it. But, of course, there was no way to take over a ship from the outside; we would have to sneak an agent aboard, and I doubted that that could be done. Saturn was no slouch at counter-measures.

"I warned you, Tyrant," Coral said severely. "Now you shall pay the consequence." She stepped into the shower.

Startled, I looked at her. She was naked and lovely. There are those who believe a woman to be beyond her prime after her twenties, but Coral had kept herself in top physical form from her martial arts, and from my vantage of fifty, the mid-thirties seemed young enough. She was of Saturn stock, with typically golden skin and Mongoloid facial features, which can be most appealing to males of any race. Certainly I found her attractive, though, of course, I had never made any move on her. I had been loyal to Megan -- while I had her. Now...

The atmosphere changed. I mean, the physical one. Warm air blasted up from the floor grille. "What?"

"A froth massage," she explained. "The consequence."

"Oh. I was thinking about -- "

"You mentioned Asoka. I happen to have an interest in that part of the System. The roots of my culture are there."

"But you're from Saturn!" I protested.

"And Saturn was colonized from the old Asian continent of Earth," she said. "Six centuries ago I would have been called Chinese. But aspects of our culture were spawned in the southernmost region of that continent, called India, and so I have an interest in that, too, even though India did not go to space."

"India -- " I repeated, working on the connection. It had been a long time since I had studied ancient history! "It took over Earth!"

"My point is, Asoka was an Indian conqueror. At first he was called a tyrant, but later he became perhaps the finest of all great rulers. He is certainly a worthy model to follow."

I would have paid more attention to her comment, but there were distractions. Not only was she nudging against me so that her marvelous body forced a masculine reaction in me, but also the warm air around us was thickening. Now the froth was manifesting, coursing upward around our bodies, tickling intimate places.

"Is your mind off business yet?" she inquired.

I laughed. "Yes. However, if one of us doesn't get out of this shower soon -- "

"I have wanted to do this for a long time," she said. She pressed her warm, slippery body against mine and drew my head down for a kiss.

The froth thickened further. It creamed up against and around our bodies, pushing, kneading, almost lifting us off our feet. I had never experienced anything quite like this before, but it was a thing worth learning about. The fact that I was next to a well-formed woman added to the effect.

"Now let me introduce you to the Tree," Coral murmured.

"The what?"

"You Westerners tend to be unimaginative about sexual expression," she said. "Sit there."

"But this is the shower! There's no -- "

"There is now." And indeed there was; a seat had emerged from the wall.

I sat, and she got onto my lap, facing me, her legs spread to circle me, as the froth coursed by ever more thickly. I felt as if I were being borne up on a cloud, high in some planetary heaven, with an angel embracing me.

She lifted her body, bringing it into position, then settled firmly on me in the amorous connection. "Now," she said, "as you arrive, stand."

"Stand!" I exclaimed. "But you would fall!"

"No way, Tyrant," she breathed. Then she tightened certain internal muscles, and suddenly I felt the eruption developing. I lunged to my feet, assisted by her weight leaning back, and sure enough: she was supported and could not fall. The mass of her body pressed down most solidly, however, heightening the sensation as I pressured all that I had through that connection.

We stood there amid the moving froth, my feet planted on the floor, our two bodies branching outward at the midpoint, our heads apart. We were the Tree, without doubt!

The sensation was almost painfully intense.

Then she drew her upper body into mine and reached for my lips with a frothy kiss. I felt her quiver, inside and out, and knew that she had reached her own climax.

But soon she had to put her feet down, for her support was waning. She got off me, and the froth swirled between us and cleansed us anew.

At last she turned off the froth, and we stood there, spent. "Next time, another consequence," she said. "When I tell you to rest, remember."

But I strongly suspected that I would balk again the next time, requiring her to introduce me to the next consequence.

I stepped out of the shower, feeling cleansed outside and inside, and made my way to the bed, forgetting my pajamas. It didn't matter; Coral joined me in the same state.

I suppose it seems frivolous of me to make love to another woman so soon after my separation from Megan. I still loved Megan and would always love her, but the physical portion of our relationship was over. My girls were now doing what they deemed necessary to tide me through the transition, and I have no reason in retrospect to challenge their judgment. It was, as it were, all in the family.

Certainly I slept well -- when Coral put me to bed.

Chapter 5 -- FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

The Saturn ship cruised on inexorably. I fidgeted, unable to concentrate properly on the details of organization. Shelia handled most of them, and I spoke directly to others only when she prompted me to. When would that sub make contact with me?

"Sir," Shelia said.

"Sir," I mimicked her, teasingly, and she smiled. She was in this period my closest and most valued associate, Coral's nocturnal ministrations notwithstanding, because she was dealing with my intellectual needs in the crisis. I had hired her for merit, not body, and that merit remained solid.

"A Navy man to see you."

"I'm not seeing any other -- " I began, then broke off, looking at her.

She nodded. "The Navy man," she amended.

"I expected a message."

She spoke into her unit. "The Tyrant will see him now," she said.

"But he could be an imposter!"

"No, sir," she said. Obviously my lower personnel had verified the man's identity.

The man entered. He wore the outfit of a mechanic, and it was dirty. He had the stripes of a corporal. He was middle-aged. Taken aback, I stared at him.

He stepped up to me and saluted. "Commander Jenkins reporting as directed, sir."

I returned the salute, bemused. "You seem to be out of uniform, Commander."

"No officer leaves the ship, sir," he said.

So he was anonymous, beyond his ship or this office. I spoke briefly with him, quickly ascertaining that he was familiar with the Navy and had known of my unit when I was there. He did seem to be legitimate. Of course, I trusted the verdict of my lower staff; I just liked to verify things in my own fashion.

"Commander," I said, getting down to business. "There is a Saturn cruiser on course for Ganymede. It carries contraband that must not be permitted to reach port. But because we have not been officially notified of this, we need to balk this ship off-the-record, so as to provide Saturn no pretext for protest. Are you able to handle this?"

Now the man's nature came through clearly, as he tackled the problem. "Coordinates of target vessel, sir?"

I glanced at Spirit. She gave them.

He did a quick mental computation. "We can reach them in two days, sir. That will be a margin of two days. It would be better to let the target enter the mine field, however."

"Mine field?"

"Perhaps your predecessor didn't advise you, sir. Ganymede is protected from intrusion by a mine field laid down fifteen years ago."

I thought back. "When Tocsin was vice-president. Didn't the administration protest?"

"Why should it? Tocsin was in charge of the project."

I was stunned. "You mean, we laid those mines?"

"Surreptitiously. To inhibit the Saturn connection."

"But there has been no news of detonations!" I protested.

"Not in our press," he agreed.

I digested this. "What of the Ganymede press?"

"Not there, either. They have preferred to scout paths through the field and to move some of the mines. Now they do serve as a kind of protection from invasion, because only Ganymede knows the precise route through."

Spirit laughed. "So the mining backfired! It helps Gany, rather than hurting it!"

"I am not responsible for the blunders of our leaders," Commander Jenkins said somewhat stiffly.

"But I went there as ambassador! My ship encountered no mines!"

"Not while you followed the route charted for you by Ganymede," he agreed.

"The premier never mentioned -- "

"The premier keeps his own counsel."

So it seemed. "But if the Saturn ship uses a Gany-cleared approach -- "

"Errors occur," he said. "Sometimes individual mines drift."

Now, at last, I caught on. "If one should drift into the entry channel -- "

"An unfortunate accident," he concluded.

"But can you move one to the right place in time? Do you know their specific channel?"

"No."

"Then -- "

"It can be very difficult to tell the difference between a mine contact and a torpedo contact."

I nodded. "So, in that region you could take out that ship without making it obvious."

I frowned. "I wish there were some way simply to turn it back. I don't like unnecessary bloodshed."

"Saturn cannot be cowed the way pirates can, sir. You cannot bluff it. The ship must be taken out."

"Besides which," Spirit added, "we cannot afford to advertise our part in this. It must seem like an accident."

The logic was inescapable. We had to destroy that ship. Already I was being forced into exactly the kind of dirty secret dealings I had condemned in Tocsin.

But I couldn't allow Ganymede to be transformed into a true Saturn base. "Do it," I said, feeling unclean.

Commander Jenkins saluted, turned, and departed. As he left the room his military bearing dissolved, and he slouched into unkempt mechanic status. My respect for this aspect of the Navy increased.

Now I could relax, to a degree. The problem of the Saturn ship was being handled.

Perhaps Saturn would suspect what we had done, but it would not be sure and would not know why. That doubt should protect the premier, until we found some other way to

"discover" the Saturn plot. In fact, debris from the ship could reveal that plot.

The rush of setting up continued. Spirit brought prospects in for me to interview; I talked with each, using my talent to read his or her basic nature, and made my judgments. My talent is not a solution to all personnel problems, because it does not tell me how much a person knows or how competent he is, only what his basic reactions are as I talk to him. Yet, if I ask probing questions or stir some emotion in him, his true reaction is clear to me, and that counts for a lot. A person who seeks to deceive me, or who has some guilty secret, rings like a false coin to my perception. I have never been betrayed by one I have analyzed in my way, even if I have taken only a few minutes.

The problems continued too. Now that the initial shock of the changeover had passed, the population was asking questions. What were the basic policies of my administration to be? Would the average man be better off than before? Would my supporters be directly rewarded? Would Hispanics be appointed to all the best jobs, at the expense of Saxons?

These things were important to them. It was necessary to formulate reassuring messages, to keep the populace quiet until the actual policies were formulated and implemented. I had hardly any greater notion of what the final configuration of my administration was to be than they did.

Hopie called Thorley, explained her mission, and was astonished when he invited her to his residence for consultation. "But he's your enemy!" she exclaimed. "He condemns everything you do! Why should he help me?"

"Thorley is not my enemy," I reminded her. "Remember how courteous he was when he accompanied us to Saturn several years ago? He is merely an honest man with a differing philosophy."

"But he still writes the most horrible things about you! About how you have preempted the established Jupiter system of government and become the first true Tyrant we have had -- "

"All true," I said. "Thorley never lies."

"And I'm your daughter. I'm trying to do a job you assigned me. Why should he help?"

"The complete rationale of a man as complex as Thorley can never be properly understood by others," I said. "But I suspect that in this particular case he realizes that if he is to have any positive effect on the new order, this is the most likely avenue. If he can influence you to make truly effective reforms in education, that is worth his while."

"But education isn't even important!"

I smiled. "Try telling him that."

"I will!" she said defiantly, and flounced off in the manner her kind has. How I loved that child!

Within an hour she was gone, taking little Robertico with her. Spirit had arranged for a small Navy vessel to transport her to Ebor in Sunshine, where she would stay with Megan. Thorley maintained a residence in the vicinity, as he had emerged professionally from roots in that region, much as I had. Hopie would ferry across to interview him as convenient.

I made a formal public address, explaining about the departments I was in the process of setting up and reassuring everyone that I intended to be fair to all parties. "But my first priority is to balance the budget," I concluded. "I suspect that this will require some sacrifices, so I want to do it very carefully. Senator Stonebridge is working on that now."

Then I turned to questions. Representatives of the leading news services were in the network, and Shelia selected individuals randomly to pose their questions.

The first one, as luck would have it, was from the Gotham Times. "Tyrant, when will the next elections be held?"

There was a murmur of humor at the manner in which he addressed me, but I knew that my preference for exactly that title would soon be accepted. His question set me back. I hadn't thought about elections, but, of course, I had abolished Congress, and I myself had taken power through no elective process. Would I step aside in four years to allow a new president to be elected? I didn't have to. Yet elections had always been vital to our system. There would be broad and deep popular outrage if I did not commit myself to the restoration of elections.

"There will surely be elections," I said somewhat lamely, "but I'm not sure when."

Then they were on me, figuratively, like a pack of wolves. If I was serious about future elections, why couldn't I name the date? Was I in fact planning to remain a dictator for life? Did I think the people of Jupiter would stand for that? How could there be congressional elections if there was no Congress?

I answered as well as I could, which wasn't really adequate. I felt like a less-than-bright student before a university panel. I had to promise to try to come up with better answers, after researching the matter.

Then a respected member of the Holo Guild had his turn. "Tyrant, suppose I were to call you a gnat-brained, pigheaded, philandering son of a spic?"

Suddenly there was silence in the chamber and on the air, and probably all around Jupiter, for this was being broadcast live. I knew what he was doing: He was testing my commitment to the freedom of the press, which encompassed all the present media.

Actually Spirit had arranged to plant the question without telling me; that was her little bit of teasing.

It took me only a moment to recover. I hauled my open mouth closed. "I really don't think of myself as gnat-brained," I responded.

There was a pause as the audience assimilated the significance of that. Then the laughter began, timorously at first, swelling to heroic proportion. It was, I think, comprised mostly of relief. I had answered the true question: There would be no censorship. If the Tyrant himself could be openly insulted, without consequence, then anyone could.

In all my tenure as Tyrant I never suppressed the press. I remained true to my commitment to Thorley, made some fifteen or sixteen years before I assumed the power.

In retrospect, that is one of the things I view with greatest pride. I believe Asoka would have approved.

The time proceeded in the usual manner, seeming at once phenomenally extended and laser-swift. My next sharp memory is of the handling of the Saturn ship. It cruised to within a day's range of Ganymede, slowed, and maneuvered through the mine field. Our watching instruments perceived a fleeting little nova; a ship had been blown up. But my regretful relief converted abruptly to dismay.

It was not the Saturn ship. That vessel proceeded on toward the planet, untouched.

What, then, had it been? Our survey of the debris made it all too clear: a sub had blown. Our sub.

What had happened? We consulted with our Navy man and came to a conclusion: Either the sub had encountered one of the mines, which would have been colossal bad fortune, or --

Or there was another sub. One that had lurked in ambush for ours and torpedoed it as the opportunity arose.

If there was another sub, the implications were chilling. It suggested that Saturn knew that we knew of their Gany ploy and had anticipated our reaction. That they had planned further ahead than we had guessed and secured their plot from our interference. Or that the premier had acted to lure us into the trap.

I rejected the latter notion. I knew the premier of Ganymede. He was a hard man, but he would not have done that to me. It was not honor so much as the particular brand of acquaintance we had: not precisely friendship but mutual respect.

Yet I was not sure I could accept the other hypothesis, either. Saturn could not have hidden a sub in Gany space without Ganymede's knowledge and acceptance. Had it done so, the premier would have warned me.

"She brought her own sub," Spirit said.

That had to be it. A Saturn sub could have traveled under the cover of the Saturn ship, perhaps even attached to it. Then, as the ship approached the dangerous region of the mine field, where an ambush would be most likely if any were to occur, the sub could have been launched. It was no easier for one sub to spot another than for a normal ship to spot a sub, but the advantage lay with surprise. Our sub had been intent on the ship it was stalking; it could readily have missed the other sub. But the enemy sub had no such distraction; it was questing only for another sub, and if it nudged ahead of the Saturn ship, it could have spotted the other. Not easily -- but as Commander Jenkins (rest his soul) had reminded me, Saturn was no slouch in space. In fact, Saturn was the most sub-oriented of all the planets. If anyone had the technology to spot a sub, Saturn did.

If this was the correct scenario, then Saturn did not necessarily know that we knew of its Gany plot. It was simply exercising normal caution. Or special caution, because of the importance of this particular mission. There need be no suspicion of the premier.

But our sub had been there. Why should we have been there, if not to take out the Saturn ship? That had to suggest that we did know.

Spirit sighed. "Brother, we are in trouble."

"Double trouble," I agreed morosely. "Not only does Saturn now know or strongly suspect that we know, it is about to dock that ship on Ganymede -- the one thing we can't afford."

"Maybe we can still put it out," she said. "We can take the offense. We can accuse Ganymede of blowing up one of our strayed vessels and demand reparation."

"That might shield the premier from suspicion," I agreed, "but it won't stop the Saturn ship from docking."

"It will if we get so outraged by the unprovoked attack that we invoke the Navy. We could pick that ship out of space long-distance if we used a saturation launch of homing missiles."

"But that would be an overt act of war!" I cried. "That's theoretically a Saturn freighter!"

"If that ship docks, we'll soon be at war regardless," she pointed out.

I pondered, ill at ease. "It would also be a lie," I said. "Covert activity is one thing; a lie is another. I want my administration to be based on the truth."

"The truth is that the Premier of Ganymede tipped us off," Spirit reminded me. "Do you want to put that out as news?"

"No. To preserve a confidence is not to lie. We must find a way to act without violating either the confidence or the truth."

She shook her head as if in frustration. Then she took hold of me and kissed me. "My brother, you are my conscience. Without you I would be lost."

I was halfway dazed by the compliment. My sister does not speak often in that manner.

But even in my distraction of the moment I noticed Coral exchanging a glance with Shelia and nodding. Apparently the guideline that was obvious to me was not as clear to the others until enunciated.

Spirit regrouped. "Well, Saturn now knows that we had a sub in there. Would it be fair to say that we had a suspicion about their ship, that we now feel is confirmed?"

"Yes," I agreed. "But we can't say what our suspicion is."

"Suppose we accuse them of renewed arms smuggling? That's not exactly what they're doing, but it is something Jupiter has always been sensitive about. After that business with the impounded ship..."

She meant the ploy Tocsin had used to discredit Ganymede and void our exchange of ambassadors. That had been aimed primarily at my candidacy, because I had been the first ambassador to Ganymede after President Kenson reestablished diplomatic relations.

I had acted to expose that ruse, but certainly it had heightened Jupiter awareness of that particular issue. It could account for our increased surveillance of Ganymede.

Where was the line between diplomacy and duplicity? What means were justified for what ends? I remained disquieted, finding this philosophical territory murky, but saw no better alternative. "Do it," I said.

So it went out to the media: our accusation that Ganymede was violating the covenant and shipping arms again. An alert went out to the Jupiter Navy, and our ships changed course and made for Ganymede. Of course, it would be days before the majority of them were in position, but the order was dramatic enough.

"Sir," Shelia said.

"Have I mentioned that I plan to have you keelhauled without a helmet, just to keep you quiet, girl?"

"After the crisis," she agreed. "A Saturn defector wishes to see you personally. He seems to have information."

"He has been checked by our personnel?"

"Now in progress. They are impressed."

"Information relevant to the present situation?"

"They think so, sir."

"Then move him on through and bring him in."

She returned to her equipment, relaying the order.

Within the hour the premier of Ganymede was on the screen. "Señor Tyrant, we are not guilty of this thing! We are shipping no arms!"

I scowled impressively. "We sent a sub in to intercept your freighter from Saturn. It did not even wait for our challenge. It torpedoed our sub! What greater evidence of guilt can there be than that?"

"That ship contained no arms!" he protested. It took about three and a half seconds for the signal to travel at light speed, each way, so there was a necessary pause that we accepted as a matter of course. "It acted only to protect itself!"

"Then what was its cargo?" I demanded. We both knew what it was, but it was necessary to put the mystery on the record.

"Why did you send a sub into Ganymede space?" he countered. "We offered no provocation!

You tried to attack a routine supply ship!"

"That was no supply ship!" I exclaimed angrily.

He gazed at me cannily. "How can you say that, Señor? Do you accuse me of falsification?"

Of course, he was guilty of just that, but his code was not mine, and this declaration was necessary to clear him of the particular suspicion that counted.

I formed a smile with obvious difficulty. "Of course not, Premier. If you are giving me your word that that ship carried no arms, I must accept that." I hoped I did not look as if I accepted it. The agents of Saturn would be analyzing my every nuance of expression, trying to determine exactly how much I knew or suspected.

"Thank you, Señor Tyrant. Now about that sub in our space -- "

"Sir," Shelia said.

"I'm on screen at the moment," I reminded her, nettled. She knew this was not the time for an interruption.

"This may be relevant, sir."

I caught her tone. I heeded it. "Premier, if you will pardon me one moment..." I said quickly in Spanish.

Seven seconds later the premier made a gesture of unconcern. But I was already inspecting the intruder. He was a man of about thirty, wearing ill-fitting Navy fatigues that had evidently been borrowed recently. Probably his own clothing had been taken by my security crew, to be quite sure he had nothing that could harm me.

"Admiral, I am from North Saturn," he said in Russian.

I looked suitably baffled, though, as it happens, I do speak the language. It was not at that time a talent I wanted to advertise. "English," I said. "Can you speak English?

¿Español?"

"I -- from Saturn," he said haltingly in English. "Infor -- information. Interest you."

"Perhaps," I agreed guardedly. "But right now I'm in the middle of a call."

"About cargo -- ship." I could tell that he believed that what he had to tell me was vitally important, and I knew that my personnel, including Shelia, had shunted him on up to me as rapidly as possible.

"The ship?" I asked, my pulse quickening. "The one now approaching Ganymede?"

"Think -- so," he agreed. "I -- technician on special equipment. Control brain --

distance. Very new."

"Mind control -- without drugs?" I asked, beginning to see the relevance. "Take over people without touching them?"

He nodded vigorously. "Experimental -- but effective. Sent to Ganymede."

With new surmise I returned my gaze to the screen. "Premier, if not arms, what about experimental equipment?" I demanded. "To subvert our agents without leaving any telltale drug traces or brain-wave distortions?"

"Absolutely not, Señor!" he exclaimed indignantly. "How can you believe a defector? He would say anything to gain a rich reward from Jupiter!"

"Or the locks at Tanamo," I said, as if just tuning in on something new. "Presently coded to our personnel, though under Ganymedan suzerainty. If those personnel could be subverted by such a device without our knowledge -- " My expression abruptly hardened.

"Premier, what the hell are you pulling?"

"All a mistake!" the premier exclaimed. "A lie, to sully Ganymede!"

"Then you won't object to allowing our personnel to board and inspect that Saturn ship before it docks," I said. "To verify that what you say is true, Señor Premier."

"It is a Saturn ship!" he protested. "Only the Saturn authorities can permit that! But I'm sure that if you apply to them, they will be happy to assuage your doubt."

"Señor, I mean to inspect that ship before it docks!" I said. "Will you deny docking clearance until this is accomplished?"

"I cannot do that!" he countered desperately. "Saturn is the ally of Ganymede! But I assure you, Señor -- "

I cut him off with a Spanish expletive that related to the manner in which he pained my genital member. I returned to the defector. "What details can you provide?"

He provided what he could. Soon I was satisfied that Saturn was doing research of the nature described and did plan to use it to corrupt the agents of other planets. Whether this was the equipment actually on the present ship was uncertain, but it did provide us with what we vitally needed: the alternate source of information right at the critical moment. Now we could act without implicating the premier of Ganymede. Indeed, on the record, the premier had done his best to conceal the information from us.

Later I learned that QYV had been responsible for producing the defector at the critical moment. I was glad I had put Reba in charge; she had really helped me that time.

We spirited the defector away to a safe and comfortable hiding place and contacted Saturn. Naturally their bureaucracy stalled. They didn't deny our demand, they merely ran it through their labyrinthine channels. It was obvious that nothing would be accomplished within the day's time required for the ship to arrive and dock.

I cut that short by putting through a hotline call directly to the Chairman of the Council of Ministers of Saturn, Comrade Karzhinov. Any call to Saturn, under optimum conditions, requires a minimum of half an hour, because the orbit of that planet is more than four astronomical units from the orbit of Jupiter, and, of course, one astronomical unit is the archaic measure of Earth's distance from the sun, or about eight and a third light minutes. Normally Saturn is farther from Jupiter than that, depending on the planets' positions within those orbits; at its worst, the separation can be about fifteen astronomical units, or over two hours' one-way signal time. It has been claimed that this slowness of communication is responsible for the deteriorating relations between the two, but I regard that as nonsense. After all, Uranus is never closer than fourteen astronomical units to Jupiter, yet our relations with that planet generally have been good. No, it is political, not spatial, relations that generate the problem.

But while we were expending the hours required to contact Karzhinov directly, that Saturn ship was still proceeding to Ganymede. I'm not sure what the Saturn day-night cycle was at that time relative to ours or how long it took the North Saturn leader to read my message and formulate his reply. Probably he took time to consult his advisers.

Thus it was about ten hours before I heard from him. I did not stand on one foot waiting; I retired and slept and handled the onrushing routine.

Then, when the ship was within twelve hours of Ganymede, I received Karzhinov's response. It was terse and to the point: The ship was a Saturn freighter, not subject to our interference, and we would respect its integrity or pay the price.

Spirit and I exchanged a glance. "He's toughing it out," she said. "He knows that by the time we exchange many more messages, the ship will have docked."

"He thinks I am made of putty," I said. Putty is a concept derived from the nature of a substance once used to caulk windows; it deforms readily under pressure.

"Saturn does not respect putty," she said.

"Then let's up the ante. We have time for one more exchange, at this rate, before that ship docks. What can we do to dispel the putty image?"

"We can put the Navy on Full Alert."

I pursed my lips. There have been various procedures over the centuries for the preparation for action, with various names and codes. At present Alert meant that the Navy would be marshaling for possible battle. It did not signal war, but it was not a thing that was done without reason. We had invoked a partial Alert when we oriented on Ganymede; a Full Alert would involve all our ships disposed around the Solar System, including those in Saturn Space. That could be construed as menacing. Certainly it would signal the seriousness with which we viewed the present situation.

"Do it," I said.

Shelia made the call. Within a minute Emerald's dark face was on the main screen. "You sure, Tyrant?" she demanded.

"Full Alert," I repeated.

"Done. It will take awhile for it to be effective in the farther reaches. To what extent do we grant local autonomy?"

Because when it required four hours to send a signal to a ship in the Neptune region, the admiral in charge there could not necessarily afford to wait eight hours for the answer to any query.

"Limited," I said. "I don't want some fool starting SWIII on his own itch."

"Just see that he doesn't start it right here," she replied, smiling grimly as she faded out.

I smiled in return, though the screen was now blank. Emerald had called on a private beam, but we both knew that the transmission would be intercepted, recorded, and decoded by Saturn agents. She knew I was making a gesture for Saturn to interpret, in the game of hints and signals that interplanetary relations was. Her informality suggested that we did not know we would be tapped, and her remark about the possibility of accidentally launching Solar System War Three suggested that I had that potential.

It would not be a comfortable interpretation for the Saturn experts -- and that was good. I wanted them to become uncertain. How well Emerald still understood me!

"So much for the indirect message to Saturn," Spirit said. "Now for the direct one.

What tone do we assume?"

"A reasonable one," I decided. "We have information that that ship is transporting equipment that threatens the security of Jupiter, and we cannot allow it to dock. They must turn it back to Saturn or suffer the consequence."

"And our closest ships will simultaneously orient for firing on that ship," she agreed.

"We remain out of range, but we can make quite a show."

"Do it," I agreed.

This time the Saturn response came in four hours: To fire on that ship would be an act of war, and Saturn would not be responsible for the consequence.

"They're still toughing it out," Spirit said. "They are sure you'll back down."

"Do you think they'll go to war over one ship?" I asked.

"I doubt it. They don't want war, they want the critical advantage that a converted Tanamo base would provide."

"Then let's fire on that ship."

She frowned. "Um, let's keep within protocol. We have time for one more exchange of messages before it docks. We can send an ultimatum, and if they don't respond by the deadline, then we shall be justified in taking action. In that time our ships will get that much closer, and their fire correspondingly more accurate. We might be able to take the ship out."

We did it. Knowing that a difficult period was coming up, I took a nap. This might seem strange, but I had been in combat and knew the importance of being properly rested. I had learned decades ago to sleep when I needed to. I would have done so that first night after I assumed power, had Coral not forced the issue. But it had been more comfortable letting her handle it, as I am sure any man would agree.

The response from Karzhinov came just two hours before the docking, and it was blunt indeed. It translated: "Do not interfere with ship. Saturn will retaliate."

Spirit sighed. "They simply won't take us seriously! We have no alternative but to do it."

"Remember when we delivered ultimatums to pirates?" I asked her. For though I regarded pirates as the scum of the System and hated the entire breed ever since they had slain our father, I had tried to be fair. This was not so much for their benefit, as for my own: I needed to believe in the justness of my cause and the rightness of my actions.

Just as I did now.

"We did have to kill a number of them," she reminded me.

It was my turn to sigh. I have never liked killing, but I have done it when necessary.

I was prepared to do it again.

We contacted Emerald and gave the order. The Navy ships opened fire.

The attack failed; the range was still too great. But there was a virtual explosion nevertheless.

First there was a call from the premier of Ganymede. "Tyrant Hubris, you are attacking Ganymede territory!" he protested.

"Correction," I said. "We are firing on a Saturn ship that our intelligence informs us is a threat to Jupiter. Its location at the moment is coincidental."

"You are violating Ganymede space! I demand that you desist instantly!"

"Turn over that Saturn ship and we'll desist," I replied.

"But I have no authority over a Saturn vessel!"

"Then deny it clearance to dock. It will have to return to Saturn."

He looked truly pained, though, of course, this was what he most wanted to do. That ship represented disaster for him as well as for Jupiter. But he could not express his true sentiment. "Saturn is Ganymede's ally and benefactor! I cannot insult Saturn in this manner!"

My expression hardened. "I had thought that relations between Jupiter and Ganymede were improving. We maintain embassies. We buy your sugar. Now I learn that you have deceived me, Premier. You have tried to bring in technicians to make Tanamo an enemy military base. This is a dagger at Jupiter's heart and a betrayal of my personal trust."

His protest was already coming in, crossing with my harangue. I overrode it, lapsing into Spanish in my supposed rage. "I arranged the transfer of that base!" I roared. "I trusted your sincerity! And how do you repay my trust, you dog's penis? You try to convert it to a Saturn missile base! You try to destroy me, just as I come into power in Jupiter!"

"...only supplies, I swear!" he was saying in English. "No arms, no special equipment, only food and tools for our agriculture!"

Then, as I paused, my Spanish outburst caught up to him. He changed to Spanish himself.

"You eater of sweet rolls!" he cried, reddening in the face. I should clarify that in the Gany dialect of Spanish, a certain type of food becomes the vernacular for the female genital and is not spoken as a compliment. "You fire into my space, violating interplanetary protocol, and dare to accuse me of bad faith? You look for a pretext to invade our planet and make it a Jupiter colony! But do you know what will happen if you do that, Señor animal fornicator? Twenty thousand gringos will die!"

I cut off the contact, then settled back, laughing. "He understands, all right," I said.

"He had better," Spirit said. "We're going to have to invade Ganymede, you know."

"With about twenty thousand troops," I agreed. "But with lasers set at stun only."

"The Saturn forces there won't set theirs at stun," she said.

"He'll keep them clear. Ganymede is not our worry. Saturn is."

"Saturn is," she agreed. "If Karzhinov doesn't bluff, we really will be in Ess-Doubleyou-Three."

That sobered me. "We have to risk it, though."

"Sir," Shelia said.

"Put him on," I said.

It was, as I had anticipated, the ambassador from Saturn. There was no delay in transmissions here, because he was in New Wash. "I must sternly inquire as to the meaning of this outrage," he said.

"The meaning is that Saturn is trying to change the locks on Tanamo Base on Ganymede, and the premier of Ganymede is playing along," I said severely. "This cannot and shall not be permitted. Your ship must turn back before docking or we shall take more specific action."

"It is only a supply ship!" he protested.

"Guarded by a killer sub," I said. "Why are you so protective of this particular ship?

A true supply ship has no fear of inspections."

"This is preposterous!"

"I agree. Turn back the ship."

"But I have no authority to -- "

"Then don't waste my time." I cut him off.

The ship did not stop. We remained unable to knock it out at long distance; we would have had to launch a CT missile at Ganymede itself to take it out, and I was not prepared to do that.

"Ganymede is organizing to repel invasion," Spirit said.

"Invade," I agreed. "But watch Saturn."

"Emerald's on it."

We tracked Saturn's ships in the Jupiter sphere. They were now on alert. Ours moved into position to oppose them, even as Saturn ships defending Saturn moved to counter our formation there. Indeed the invasion of Ganymede might be a joke, but the siege of Saturn was not. If any missile was fired at a Jupiter city --

Now the White Bubble was deluged with calls from our own population. We had not censored the news; the people were catching on that real trouble was brewing.

"Sir, you may want to watch this," Shelia said, and put on a local interview.

It was Thorley, my most eloquent critic, speaking editorially. The startling thing was who was in the background: my daughter Hopie. Evidently she had been consulting him about the prospects for education when both were caught by the Saturn crisis, and the pickup caught them both.

"That will make tongues wag!" Spirit murmured.

"...seems to be madness," Thorley was saying. "There is no reputable evidence I know of that the Saturn ship carries contraband, and to launch an attack on the mere suspicion

-- "

"My father's not mad!" Hopie exclaimed. "He always has good reason for what he does!"

Thorley gave a wry smile. "Such as appointing a child to be in charge of education?"

"He told me I could do the job if I got the best advice!"

He shook his head. "Mayhap he is but mad north-northwest; when the wind is southerly, he knows a hawk from a handsaw." He returned to the camera, smiling in the eloquently rueful way he had. "It seems the Tyrant sent his daughter to me for advice."

I heard someone laugh; it was Shelia, losing her composure for the moment. Thorley was, as I mentioned, my most effective critic, but it was impossible not to like him.

"...yet it remains difficult to see the logic in such brinksmanship," Thorley was continuing. "In a matter of hours the Tyrant has brought us closer to the brink of holocaust than has been the case in twenty years. I am, candidly, appalled."

Then we had to return to the business at hand. Another message had arrived from Chairman Karzhinov.

"Madness!" he exclaimed, as if echoing Thorley. Actually the word was that of the translator, for Karzhinov did not speak English and did not know that I spoke Russian.

"You are committing an act of war! Desist or we must react!"

"Send a bread-and-butter note," I told Shelia. She looked pale, but she got on it: a routine repetition of our demand that the ship not dock. Of course, it would be too late by the time that message reached Saturn, but it maintained contact. I wanted it clear that we had reason for our action and that only a Saturnian backdown would avert catastrophe.

But the ship did dock. Our invasion force moved into position, Tanamo the obvious target. We wanted no confusion on the part of the premier of Ganymede; he had to know precisely where and when we would land.

I looked about me during a lull in the activity, if not the tension. Ebony was there, having reverted to gofer status for the crisis. She looked as pale as a Black woman could. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sir, how do they know not to shoot?" she asked. "You sent no message. After the way you yelled at the premier -- "

"The premier and I understand each other," I said.

"But -- "

"Any message of that nature would be intercepted," I explained. "Therefore there has to be no message. But the premier knows what he has to do, as do I."

"But the Saturn fleet -- "

"Do you happen to know who commands the Jupiter-sphere division of the Saturn fleet?"

Wordlessly she shook her head.

"Admiral Khukov."

"Oh! We know him -- "

"As well as we know the premier."

"But he's a ruthless man, sir."

"He knows his priorities -- as do I."

"I sure hope you do!" she said.

"It is a bit chancy," I agreed. "But, I think, necessary."

The Saturn fleet became more menacing. Their dreadnoughts were impressive, but it was their formidable subs that concerned me most. Our destroyers were trying desperately to track them, and we had most located but could not be sure of some. In any event, unless we launched a preemptive strike at them, our cities would be vulnerable to their strike. Yet, at the same time, our subs were closing on Saturn and giving their defenses similar fits. One CT warhead could do a horrendous amount of damage. In fact, there was a growing question whether the disruption of planetary atmosphere would not generate a greater long-term mischief than the destruction of a city. But at the moment it was the immediate situation that concerned us. Saturn had to be made to believe that I really would push the final button -- if driven too far.

"Sir," Shelia said.

Wearily I glanced at her.

"Ganymede is carrying it live."

"So far so good!" I exclaimed, relieved. "Put it on."

The screen showed the Gany militia moving into place, ready to repel the invader. They were armed with laser rifles and pistols.

They were evidently outside the Tanamo base, their entry balked by the resistance of our gatekeepers. That was the peculiarity of the compromise I had arranged, about seven years before: Tanamo had passed to Gany control, but the locks had remained keyed to Jupiter personnel. Thus it had been impossible for the base to be abused by Saturn, because the very specialized equipment necessary to recode the locks could be docked only at Tanamo itself, and our personnel would not permit that. Now, of course, that situation had changed; the more sophisticated equipment being landed at the other port could do that job. Once the premier was out of the way, the treaty could be voided by Saturn.

The ships of the Jupiter Navy, naturally, had no difficulty docking at Tanamo; our personnel facilitated their clearance. In short order we had twenty thousand laser-armed troops there. They stormed out, covered by our own cameras, and rushed to shore up the defenses of the planet-bound accesses.

There was a blazing battle at the perimeter as the Gany forces charged. They had to expose themselves in the straight access tunnels, and our troops mowed them down.

It was beautiful. The Gany troops clutched themselves and collapsed. Had I not known they were not hurt, I would have winced. They had been well coached.

Would it fool the Saturnians? I knew it would not deceive Admiral Khukov for an instant, but I also was pretty sure that he would not expose the ruse. He would read it correctly, censor the Saturn records of anything that would undermine the effect, and send the tapes on to his superiors: the clear violation of Gany territory I had initiated. Then he would wait for his orders.

After our troops had cleared the corridor they moved out to secure a broader foothold.

Now they were to some extent exposed, and snipers caught them. They died as convincingly as had the Ganys. The gringos were starting to get it.

The reaction in our media was immediate: NAVY INVADES GANY! the Gotham Times headline read. Others put it more succinctly: WAR! The calls to the White Bubble multiplied but were blocked off; we were now too busy to bother with them. Only communications through channels were accepted -- and there were more than enough of those to swamp us.

Very soon the second reaction came: "This is madness!" a commentator cried. "For no reason we invade Ganymede? What kind of a fool do we have at the helm?"

That reaction quickly spread across Jupiter. The ousted opposition Congressmen were quick to cry warning: the planet could not afford to tolerate a crazy man in the White Bubble!

But the great ships of the Jupiter Navy remained in place above our cities, orienting on Ganymede, and tracking the Saturn ships and subs. They represented the ultimate power in this region of space, and they answered only to Admiral Emerald Mondy, who served the Tyrant with absolute loyalty. The power was mine.

Actually the sequence took more time than it seems in my memory, and the details were more complex than I can render here, because of the distance to Saturn and the enormity of planetary proceedings. But I must render it as I perceived it, trusting to the official records to correct my confusions. One thing is certain: The System came extraordinarily close to war and possible annihilation in that period. Yet I am not certain that there was any better way to accomplish what had to be accomplished. Some risk is always entailed in surgery, and the dangers of leaving the situation uncorrected were, in the long term, greater. I did what I had to do.

Our invasion of Ganymede proceeded while Saturn expostulated. Because it took four hours for Karzhinov's reactions to reach me, much happened between calls. Now we stalled them, reversing their prior ploy, and they were as helpless as we. They lacked the resources to defend Ganymede directly; this was, after all, the Jupiter sphere.

Certainly they did not desire to initiate System War Three over Ganymede; the planet was a loss to them even under favorable circumstances and hardly worth the horrendous cost of full war. Yet Saturn pride could not let us take over without opposition.

Karzhinov temporized: he issued an ultimatum. "Withdraw your troops from Ganymede by 1200 hours, January 28, 2650, or the Union of Saturnian Republics will be forced to consider your action an act of war."

I laughed when Shelia read me the translation. "Send this reply," I told her. "Saturn, keep your nose clear of Jupiter business, lest it get cut off. Signed, the Tyrant of Space."

"You're sure Karzhinov can be bluffed?" Spirit inquired.

"Who's bluffing?"

She smiled, but I could see that she was worried. She understood me well, but she got nervous when I got like this.

Actually I was pretty sure about Karzhinov. He was typical of the Saturn hierarchy: an unscrupulous, atheistic bureaucrat who had risen to the apex by conspiring against his enemies, betraying his friends, and being lucky. Like most bullies, he was essentially a coward. I had never met him personally, but I had read him through his public pronouncements and interviews and updated my information during the current exchange. I knew I could bluff him out.

The danger was that when he stepped down or was replaced, there would be a new and tougher Saturn leader who lacked the judgment to back off. I could handle a man I had studied; there might not be time to study the next.

But if the right man seized the occasion --

The Navy spread out and conquered new territory on Ganymede with surprising alacrity.

Horror stories of death and destruction were broadcast by the hour, sometimes by the minute, from both sides, and the toll in lives and property mounted. Censorship was clamped down by both sides, but selected tales leaked out. It was, by all appearances, an awful situation. Our body count differed from theirs by the usual ratio: we claimed two and a half times as many casualties inflicted as they acknowledged, and they claimed two and a half times as many as we acknowledged. The Navy threw in more men as other ships arrived, and the toll of dead gringos mounted steadily toward the predicted total.

The Saturn ships maneuvered, orienting on all of our major targets. Their subs played tag with ours -- those that either party could identify. We knew that the greatest threat was from the unlocated Saturn subs, which would torpedo our defensive ships from hiding. Ours would take out their ships similarly, but that would be too late to save our cities from the initial bombardment by those ships. Our real response would not be defensive but offensive: as our subs took out the major Saturn cities. That was the true balance of terror: the civilian populations of each planet were hostage to the Navy of the other. Karzhinov was not secure from that, and neither was I; we would both be dead men once the war began.

But Karzhinov was a coward and I was not.

The hours passed. The Saturn deadline drew nigh. I knew Karzhinov would back down, but others did not know that, nor could I tell them. The Gany invasion was fake, a construct of tacit collaboration between the premier and me, but the confrontation with Saturn was not. I had to trust that the Saturn structure had the same discipline as ours, so that no nervous admiral pushed his button and triggered the ultimate holocaust. I was conscious of the potential for error and of the enormous consequence thereof.

I told the others to sleep -- Coral, Ebony, Spirit, and Shelia -- but they would not or could not. Certainly I would not. Thus as the Saturnian deadline approached, we had been awake for more than thirty hours. I don't think any of us felt it or were aware of our natural functions. We ate and drank and eliminated on a different level of awareness, as though our bodies were disconnected from our heads.

In retrospect I realize that I drifted into one of my visions. I was not then aware of its coming, and I still am not certain to what extent the others were aware of it or participated in it. Helse did not come to me this time; that was one reason I did not realize. Perhaps the others were afraid to bring me out of it, lest in my confusion or reaction I do something rash -- such as giving the Order -- so I played along. I never cared to inquire afterward, and they never cared to volunteer. Thus we went through a special experience together, whose complete nature remains opaque.

In my private awareness it seemed that the barriers of space and time dissolved, and I faced Karzhinov via a screen that had no delay of transmission. "Why do you do this, Tyrant of Space?" he demanded, beads of cold sweat showing on his jowls. "Why do you force us into this folly of war?"

"You were the one who started it," I replied. "You sought to corrupt the pact we fashioned years ago, when Tanamo returned to Ganymede."

"A lie!" he cried. "You only sought a pretext to invade Ganymede!"

He had been speaking in Russian, I in English, neither being surprised that we understood each other. Now I addressed him directly in Russian. "You running dog! You tried to sneak that ship by me, and now you deny it! You make me so angry!" And my finger hovered above the big red button that would ignite the holocaust.

"Don't touch that!" he cried. Then, in a verbal double take: "You speak my language!"

"That is why you cannot deceive me, you Bolshevik bureaucrat!"

He brought out his own red button, mounted on a little box. His face turned red with embarrassment. "You knew! You understood my language! You have made a fool of me! I will show you! I will have revenge!" And his fat finger moved to the button.

But I read him better than he read me. I knew he was bluffing. He feared death too much to launch the holocaust. "Go ahead, imperialist Communist!" I baited him. "Push the button! Strike it with your shoe! Show the System what you are made of!"

Now, challenged to the point, he realized that he was lost. Slowly he crumbled. He sagged to the floor.

The box with the button fell from his hand and bounced on the floor. It flipped over and came down on its button. There was a crackle as the connection was made.

"Uh-oh," I murmured in English.

Responding to that signal, the Saturn fleet opened fire on Jupiter, Our fleet responded, firing on Saturn.

There was a pause. Then the CT missiles, impossible to intercept at short range, scored. Almost simultaneously Jupiter and Saturn flared, their city-bubbles exploding.

The shock of the explosions rocked the atmospheres and caused the remaining cities to crack and implode, so that no significant life remained at the planetary level.

Meanwhile, other missiles scored on the various moons, taking them out also.

Jupiter and Saturn were sparkling with the pinpoint destructions of their cities. But the other planets were not immune. The moment the hostilities commenced, commands went out to the ships of the Belligerents, and missiles were fired at their allies. Uranus erupted, and Mars, Venus, Mercury, and Earth itself. Then, in slowing but inevitable order, the more extreme planets, and the major settlements of the Belt. Humanity was destroying itself.

I was dead, too, of course, and all who were with me. Together we had brought to a halt man's ascension toward space. Whatever our species might have been or become was ended.

Was it worth it?

"Hope, for the love of God!"

The words transfixed me. That was Megan!

I emerged from my vision to discover myself standing before the main screen. Megan's image was on it. She had spoken, and not from the dead. The Saturn deadline was upon us, the moment of decision.

I glanced around me. My sister Spirit stood at my side, her face drawn. Coral and Ebony stood near the door, frozen: of two different races and types but almost alike in this moment. Shelia was as always in her wheelchair, her right hand resting by the computerized communications controls, her eyes fixed on me. None of them would gainsay me; my word was law, here, though it could bring destruction on us all.

But Megan was, and had always been, her own woman. I had kept company with her for almost twenty years, and I would always love her, and she reciprocated. It was in part love that separated us, for she had been unable to join me in the Tyrancy but unwilling to deny me my destiny. Now she was addressing me directly, and it shook me more deeply than the very vision of the end of humanity. Megan was not only the woman I loved; she was a truly great and good person whose instincts were almost unfailingly correct. For her I would give up anything -- if she let me.

I gazed at her, and I could not answer her. I knew that she did not know what I knew: that the ongoing conquest of Ganymede was a sham, the tolls of the dead a carefully nurtured fiction crafted by both sides. That the real target was not Ganymede or Saturn but the present leadership of Saturn. This was our best and perhaps only chance to achieve the breakthrough that would enable future changes of enormous significance. My present course could accomplish more of what Megan desired for mankind than any other course could. All she saw at the moment was the concurrent risk. I could not blame her for that, for I had fostered the illusion of madness to which she was responding. Yet I could not at this point disillusion her, for that would damage or destroy the whole of my thrust.

For the sake of all that Megan and I both believed in, I had to deceive her in this. I felt the terrible dread of the alienation I was making, for there was no one I wished to hurt less than this woman. But it was necessary.

I turned away from her. I signaled Sheila and saw her fingers move, cutting off the connection. It was done.

"I remember when you raped Rue," Spirit murmured.

That was it, exactly. Rape was an abomination, but I had been forced by circumstance to do it, and my sister had witnessed it. What I had done to Megan was more subtle and more cruel but as necessary. I almost would have preferred the denouement of the vision.

Now we waited. The Saturn deadline was past, and there had been no change in my policy.

The action on Ganymede continued. We had secured Tanamo but were broadening our base in an evident campaign of complete conquest. The casualties, as represented by both sides, were high, but the outcome was inevitable: Ganymede would be restored as a satellite of Jupiter, if Saturn did not act. And Saturn could not act -- short of System War Three.

The four hours required for the news of my refusal to honor the Saturn deadline passed.

Now was the second siege of tension: awaiting the reaction of Saturn. If I had miscalculated, if I had misjudged Karzhinov, then all was over. I was sure I had not done so, yet the stakes were so high that I remained quite tense, anyway.

The time for the response came -- and nothing happened. We did not relax; it could mean that there was simply a bureaucratic delay in implementation of the attack command. Yet the longer the delay, the better.

The hours passed without reaction. Saturn neither attacked nor retreated. Was Karzhinov trying to wear me down? I simply waited. All of us were tired, but none of us could sleep.

It seemed that not many others were sleeping, either. Shelia glanced at me inquiringly, having something of interest coming in, and I nodded, and it came on: Thorley, commenting.

"It seems that Jupiter and Saturn are engaged in a contest to see who will be the first to blink. Saturn set a deadline; the Tyrant ignored it; now it is Saturn's move. This would be an intriguing study, if the fate of mankind did not hang upon the outcome."

"He always was good with a summation," I said.

"Which demonstrates in more direct fashion than I would have preferred the folly of bypassing our established and time-honored conventions," Thorley continued. "Had the democratic process been honored, we should not now have a madman inviting destruction for us all. Let this be a lesson, should we survive it."

"Yes, indeed," Spirit agreed, smiling wanly.

We waited, and the System waited with us. The planet of Jupiter, and probably Saturn also, had paused with bated heartbeat, waiting for the ax to fall -- or turn aside.

"Sir."

I jumped at Shelia's word; I had not been aware I was dozing. "Um."

"Admiral Khukov."

"On."

Khukov's familiar face appeared. "Will you meet with me, Tyrant Hubris?" he inquired formally in English.

I knew by his bearing that victory was at hand. Khukov had a talent similar to mine, the ability to read people, and he and I could read each other. That was why we trusted each other, though our motives and loyalties were in many respects quite opposed. "I will, Admiral."

"I will send a boat for you and your sister."

"Agreed."

The screen went blank. "Sleep," I said. "The crisis has passed."

"Should we make an announcement, sir?" Shelia asked.

I walked over, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead. "That a meeting has been arranged. No more. Then rest until the ship comes."

She activated her console. "For release from the office of the Tyrant," she said. "A meeting has been arranged between Admiral Khukov of the Saturn fleet and the Tyrant."

She touched a button. "JupNav, arrange escort for the Saturn ship to the White Bubble."

Then another button. "No further calls to the Tyrant's office until the Saturn ship arrives." Then she let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

Spirit and Ebony were already gone. Coral took my arm and brought me to my bed, where I flopped prone and slept in my clothes. She must have done likewise.