thinner lines than ever hers had done. “That’s what scares me. You see,
we’ve collected evidence that Dennitzans are engineering a rebellion on
Diomedes. Have you heard of Diomedes?”
“Ye-e-es. Any man who appreciates your three primaries of life ought to
study the biography of Nicholas van Rijn, and he was shipwrecked there
once. Yes, I know a little. But it isn’t a terribly important planet to
this day, is it? Why should it revolt, and how could it hope to
succeed?”
“I wasn’t on that team myself. But my unit was carrying out related
investigations in the same sector, and we exchanged data. Apparently the
Diomedeans–factions among them–hope the Domain of Ythri will help.
They’ve acquired a mystique about the kinship of winged beings …
Whether the Ythrians really would intervene or not is hard to tell. I
suspect not, to the extent that’d bring on overt conflict with us. But
they might well use the potentiality, the threat, to steer us into new
orbits–We’ve barely started tracing the connections.”
Flandry scowled. “And those turn out to be Dennitzan?”
“Correct. Any such conspiracy would have to involve members of a society
with spaceships–preferably humans–to plant and cultivate the seed on
Diomedes, and maintain at least enough liaison with Ythri that the
would-be rebels stay hopeful. When our people first got on the track of
this, they naturally assumed the humans were Avalonian. But a lucky
capture they made, just before I left for Sol, indicated otherwise.
Dennitzan agents, Dennitzan.”
“Why, on the opposite side of Terra from their home?”
“Oh, come on! You know why. If the Gospodar’s planning an uprising of
his own, what better preliminary than one in that direction?” Hazeltine
drew breath. “I don’t have the details. Those are, or will be, in the
reports to GHQ from our units. But isn’t something in the Empire always
going wrong? The word is, his Majesty plans to leave soon for Sector
Spica, at the head of an armada, and curb the barbarians there. That’s a
long way from anyplace else. Meanwhile, how slowly do reports from an
obscure clod like Diomedes grind their way through the bureaucracy?”
“When a fleet can incinerate a world,” Flandry said bleakly, “I prefer
governments not have fast reflexes. You and your teammates could well be
quantum-hopping to an unwarranted conclusion. For instance, those
Dennitzans who were caught, if they really are Dennitzans, could be
freebooters. Or if they have bosses at home, those bosses may be a
single clique–may be, themselves, maneuvering to overthrow the
Gospodar–and may or may not have ambitions beyond that. How much more
than you’ve told me do you know for certain?”
Hazeltine sighed. “Not much. But I hoped–” He looked suddenly,
pathetically young. “I hoped you might check further into the question.”
Chives entered, on bare feet which touched the carpet soundlessly though
the gee-field was set at Terran standard. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he
addressed his master. “If you wish dinner before we reach the landing
approach zone, I must commence preparations. The tournedos will
obviously require a red wine. Shall I open the Chateau Falkayn ’35?”
“Hm?” Flandry blinked, recalled from darker matters. “Why … um-m …
I’d thought of Beaujolais.”
“No, sir,” said Chives, respectfully immovable. “I cannot recommend
Beaujolais to accompany a tournedos such as is contemplated. And may I
suggest drinking and smoking cease until your meal is ready?”
Summer evening around Catalina deepened into night. Flandry sat on a
terrace of the lodge which the island’s owner, his friend the Mayor
Palatine of Britain, had built on its heights and had lent to him. He
wasn’t sleepy; during the space trip, his circadian rhythm had slipped
out of phase with this area. Nor was he energetic. He felt–a bit
sad?–no, pensive, lonesome, less in an immediate fashion than as an
accumulation from the years–a mood he had often felt before and
recognized would soon become restlessness. Yet while it stayed as it
was, he could wonder if he should have married now and then. Or even for
life? It would have been good to help young Dominic grow.
He sighed, twisted about in his lounger till he found a comfortable