When Brandir and three fellow Selenarchs began construction of catapult launchers on their demesnes, did they speak truth about simply wishing to enter the business? On economic grounds alone, that seemed dubious. Certainly no permission had been granted. Wahl ordered the projects halted, pending agreement on safeguards. If that failed (and surely no lord wanted inspectors stationed permanently on his holding) the works must be dismantled. The Selenarchs argued, delayed, obstructed. Satellites observed men, machines, robots going in and out of the shell thrown around the engines “for meteorite protection while negotiations proceed.” Wahl sent investigators. They were turned back at the boundaries.
His words of yesterday evenwatch passed again through Dagny’s head. How haggard his face in the screen had been; but she heard a ring as of iron. “I do not know what their intent is. They understand I cannot allow this. Do they not? Then why are they forcing the issue? I have a horrible suspicion that they have more weapons than we know of, an arsenal that would let their castles stand off what force I have at my command. They can trust that a shocked Earth will not respond with missiles, if they can threaten retaliation. They will call for talks about, yes, independence, or something that will amount to the samething. Am I wrong in my guess? Can you give me a better one? If not, then on the mornwatch after tomorrow I will order the constabulary to occupy those estates, and we shall see what happens. I give them that long in the thin hope that you, Senora Beynac, can bring them to their senses. Nowhere else do I see any way of avoiding a fight, nowhere else but in you, sefiora.”
Instead of calling Brandir, she was flying to meet with a widow.
She dozed. ‘Mond spoke to her. She could not understand the words, but he smiled.
The craft gyred about, reduced forward momentum, maneuvered downward. Dagny woke to a glimpse of the docking cradle. The shaft beneath it made an O of blackness. She’d contributed to the design, long ago, long ago: a hole to receive most of the short-lived isotopes in the jet, a cup above whose skeletal structure picked up an amount negligible compared to natural background count. Nowadays motors induced much less radioactivity in their reaction mass. But coping with the problem back then had been quite a challenge, and fun.
The boat settled gently. A gangtube stretched itself on its wheels from the nearest gate to the airlock. The pilot climbed down from his control cabin, now above her, and said, “Here we are, m’lady. We’ve orders to stand by for three hours. If you’ll want us later than that, please call our headquarters and request it.”
“If I don’t have to make a lightning advance to the rear inside that time, I probably Won’t need to,” she replied. “I can bum a ride home, or take the train. But gracias, boys. You’ve done well, and your being handsome didn’t hurt the trip any.” That was one advantage an old crone had, she could get away with practically unlimited impudence. In fact, people found it winning, and were disarmed.
A young lieutenant rode out in the tube and said he had been sent to escort her. She let him carry her bag. The fahrweg ride to the governor’s mansion was short and direct. They made it in silence. Other passengers were pretty subdued too; you could almost smell the worry in them. Few details were yet public, but everybody knew a crisis of some kind was close to the breaking point.
In the entry she gave the man her cloak to stow with the bag. That was really no way to treat an officer of the Peace Authority, but he seemed honored. She continued to the well-remembered living room. Two persons rose from their chairs as she appeared. The third was already on his feet, Lunarian fashion.
Rita went straight to her. Dagny embraced the small woman, stroked the dark hair a’hd murmured. Most of her looked over the shoulder at her breast, to Erann.
Brandir’s grandson met the gaze, smiled faintly, and bowed. He was a beautiful youth—how old by now, eighteen?—with the silvery-blond hair and silvery-blue eyes that ran in his branch of the bloodline. The towering form wore close-fitting green raiment and soft red shoes.