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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Achan Elso, Daslakh, and a dozen Polyarchists emerged from one of the ornamental lagoons next to the triangular plaza in the center of Ksetram. All the lakes and ponds in the city were open to the ocean below, and had quays and ramps for the convenience of swimmers or people arriving via submersible.

As ordered, Achan stayed in the center of the group while Janitha led the way. She crept up the landing ramp and peered over the rim into the plaza, then gestured for the others to follow. All of them were in dark mode, with no comm connections of any kind. Achan found the experience weird—just about every waking moment of his life had been spent communicating with someone else, and being alone inside his own head was a little disorienting. Daslakh stayed out of the way of everybody’s feet but kept its own counsel.

The plaza itself was a triangle a kilometer across, surrounding the huge dome of the Supreme Temple. No plantings or decoration interrupted the vast open expanse of pavement. It had been designed for throngs of devout worshippers to gather and hear the words of Mira, the long-gone digital god. At the moment it was empty, except for a little knot of half a dozen exhausted Kavita fans sharing an improvised picnic of wine and printed dumplings a few hundred meters away.

At the center rose a huge dome, a hundred meters high and twice as wide—actually the upper half of the spherical Supreme Temple. One of its three grand doorways faced them.

“Casual,” hissed Janitha. “Just walk, weapons down. Act like you don’t know what’s going on.”

One of the other mers laughed aloud at that. “Not hard!”

She climbed up the ramp and set out at a moderate pace. The others followed. Half the Polyarchists—including Janitha—were mers, with long tails balancing their forward-canted bodies. Four were legacy humans. One was a dolphin, whose suit had extended legs so she could keep pace with the others instead of bounding along on her flukes. And one was a mech—a big mech, with a chassis built for underwater construction and repair, now using two of its six flexible arms for walking.

It extended another arm to Achan, and spoke to him through a little speaker in the smart-matter hand. “I don’t know if you remember me, Mr. Elso. My name’s Tursas. I used to work for you.”

“I recall readily! Your skillful strength saved the day when one of the mooring cables parted. I hope you know how little I loved laying off our laborers, but we simply could not pay so many.”

“That’s okay. I’m making more working for Janitha anyway. We get a percentage instead of a salary.”

“Ah. Good.”

After a pause Tursas spoke again. “When I worked for you I noticed that you appeared to be very fond of Kavita.” When Achan said nothing it continued. “I am curious why you are not supporting her coup, and instead are working against her, with people you previously have criticized in public.”

“I tried to teach all my children to respect tradition. If some great calamity threatened Miranda, and the Committee could not cope, then perhaps a change would be correct. Our family’s failures are not enough.”

“It seems unlikely that change can be avoided now,” said Tursas.

The little squad was halfway across the plaza when Janitha said, “Vehicles coming in. Run for it!”

Achan prided himself on keeping in shape, but he was still panting by the time they reached the great doorway. Behind them he could see a couple of ducted-fan flyers touching down.

“Get us inside!” said Janitha, shoving Achan at the side of the doorway.

The great doors themselves were clad in diamond over a layer of gold, making them glitter in the daylight. Achan knew that behind the showy exterior were thick layers of armor and massive mechanical locks. They wouldn’t get inside unless someone inside let them in.

A little niche at the side held a display. “Hello!” Achan shouted. “This is Achan Elso! I must see Jothi Rayador at once! I have come to help!”

After a second the display showed a face—Harish Rayador, Jothi’s eldest son. He frowned. “We don’t make deals with traitors.”

“I have come along with these Polyarchists to offer our aid. I disown my daughter. Please! Rebel troops are coming!”

“Quickly, then.”

The huge door opened just a meter and all of them piled inside before it boomed shut. Five Rayador family members pointed a variety of weapons at the newcomers. The interior of the sphere was dark and cool, lit only by a few scattered portable lamps. Wide bridges led from the doors to a central circular platform surrounding the empty space where Mira’s processor had once been. All of them looked tiny in that great echoing volume.

“Achan! If it was anybody else, I wouldn’t have believed what you said. But you—and a gang of Polyarchists? It’s too insane to be a trick.” Jothi Rayador approached, and Achan could see he also had a weapon in hand, though it wasn’t raised.

“Adya deduced your location and sent me here. I fear Kavita has found you as well. Some of her followers are outside—armed!”

“I don’t know who to trust.”

“She has hired mercenaries from Taishi. They are already on the surface.”

“They’re already inside! Our defense plans are decades old, and didn’t allow for things like new conveyor tunnels. I’ve got reports of troops in Svarnam and a dozen other cities.”

“It sounds like we’re too late, then,” said Janitha.

“Velicham, isn’t it? Polyarchist Movement. Why aren’t you outside shooting at the doors with the rest of the rebels?”

“We want to broaden the franchise, not eliminate it. The oligarchy needs new blood, new ideas—new people.” She spoke as though she had rehearsed a hundred times.

“I’ll keep that in mind if I get out of here alive.”

“So . . .” said Janitha. “Are we going to hold this place or slip out?”

“There’s no place else to go,” said Rayador. “I think we’re safe until they can bring up heavy weapons. And if they do, I’m not going to die. Sorry, Elso, there’s not going to be an old-fashioned glorious last stand. Once they can crack open the doors, I will surrender. The rest of you can do the same, or try to get out into the ocean through the water system.”

Janitha glanced at the other Polyarchists. “Safer to surrender when everybody’s watching. Sorry, guys, I thought we had a chance.”

“Excuse me,” said Daslakh, changing its shell to a bright rescue green. “I think everybody’s forgetting something. We haven’t lost yet.”


The braking laser up on the surface was throwing a gigawatt of energy at the approaching payload to bleed off its immense speed. That much energy produced an awful lot of waste heat as a byproduct, twice as much as the laser actually emitted. On a hab or a small asteroid, the only way to dump that heat would be via huge, fragile radiators. But Miranda itself was made of ice, and waste heat simply helped to keep the subsurface ocean from freezing up again. That was one reason Miranda’s other defenses were disgracefully weak: The laser array was hardened and Miranda could throw out more energy than most would-be attackers—as long as the control center wasn’t occupied by conspirators, that is.

Cooling the laser array required five tons of freezing-cold seawater from the bottom of Miranda’s ocean every second. That water was supplied by a bundle of seven graphene pipes, each one a meter wide. Those pipes were surrounded by a self-sealing layer of smart matter, an aerogel insulation blanket, and a diamond outer casing to protect against accidents or sabotage. All that protection meant drills, saws, laser cutters, or even small explosive charges wouldn’t be able to cut any individual pipe, let alone all seven.

Zee learned all that as he and Sabbath flew south across the ocean.

“Those public-information sources won’t tell you any details about the active defenses, but I bet it has some,” said Sabbath. He was silent for a couple of seconds, then continued. “Yes. A one-kilometer exclusion zone backed by nonlethal sonic and maser systems. Nothing lethal, at least not autonomous. If your friend Kavita is serious about protecting the laser, she’s got some security mechs, or bios in battlesuits on guard.”

“She’s got pretty much the whole Security Service in her camp.”

“Lovely. Of course, even a loyalist officer would still likely object to random strangers interfering with the laser cooling system. I don’t think we can talk our way past any security.”

“Some of them shot at me and Daslakh.”

“And now that the event has begun, they’re likely to be packing their heaviest firepower. I don’t know what you’ve figured out yet, but allow me to point out that the suit I’m wearing is a fully capable combat platform. It might be relevant.”

“I thought it might be,” said Zee. “If there are any guards, I guess you have to take them down.”

“And you?”

“I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“We’ve got about half an hour before we reach the exclusion zone. Oh—some useful advice. Nonlethals can still do real damage. The sonics will probably destroy your cochlea, and the masers can raise blisters. The pain can overwhelm most civilian medical implants. How are you at tolerating injury?”

“I do nulesgrima, sometimes for real.”

“Well, just remember: anything can be replaced. Trust me, I know firsthand. Though in my case it’s more like tenth-hand, at least for the right side.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

The two of them stayed high, just below the light panels under the ice crust. Even though the panels were tuned for plant growth and vision, the sheer wattage this close made the two men quite warm. Only the air streaming over their skins saved them from heatstroke.

“There,” said Zee, nodding his head at a shaft extending from the icy roof down to the ocean surface.

“How do you know—oh, I see,” said Sabbath. “No farm, no surface platform, no lights under the water. Just some big pumps in the ocean.”

“Daslakh figured it out for me.”

“Unsurprising.”

“How do you two know each other?” asked Zee.

“It’s a long story, and some parts of it are still secret. If you and I live through this, I’ll give you a summary.”

When they reached the one-kilometer circle around the intake pipes, a voice began to sound inside Zee’s head. “Warning! You are entering the safety exclusion zone for an essential services site. Divert now!” It started out as brisk and concerned, the tone of a parent urging a toddler to put down something fragile or sticky. As they flew closer the intonation and the actual sound of the voice got louder, harsher, and more threatening.

That was followed by a faint buzzing noise which seemed to be located in the center of each human’s skull. The noise increased in volume and pitch as the distance to the shaft decreased, becoming a whine and then a scream.

“Does your suit have sonic protection?” asked Sabbath.

“No!” Zee shouted back.

“Inflate it. That’ll help some. Don’t let it get to you.”

Easy for him to say, Zee thought. Sabbath probably had some kind of shielding in his suit, or maybe super-spy ears which could ignore the sound projectors.

Zee found the “water rescue” setting for his suit and activated it. The clingy garment suddenly bulged out everywhere, making it very hard for him to beat his wings. His cowl turned into a bubble around his head. The buzzing didn’t disappear, but it was back down to merely annoying. He also tried a little evasive maneuvering, so that the sonic projectors would have to reacquire him every second or two.

The volume of the sound increased, until tears were pooling in Zee’s eyes from the pain inside his head. Consequently he didn’t notice the maser pain beam at first. His skin felt pins and needles, then an overall itch, and then . . . Zee yelled aloud as every surface of his body facing the water intake suddenly felt as if someone was pressing a slab of heated iron against it. He kept his head down to shield his face and eyes, but there was no way to protect his outstretched arms as he flew.

Jinking and bobbing helped. There was a slight lag as the noise and pain projectors reacquired him. It was during one brief respite that he saw a diamond formation of seven sphere-shaped fliers diving at them from somewhere up at the top of the pipe bundle, where it passed through the ice roof.

The flying machines’ comm tags identified them as Security Service drones, and their comm warnings added to the cacophony inside Zee’s skull. Amid the noise and jabber he did make out the phrase “lethal force.”

Sabbath fired up the impellers on his wingtips and climbed toward the drones. Zee banked his own wings to cut behind Sabbath, using him as cover while Zee flapped hard to gain altitude.

The drones opened fire, some kind of smart but low-velocity projectiles which dove and turned to track Zee and Sabbath. Sabbath was able to vaporize the two chasing him, with what Zee guessed was a laser mounted in one arm of his suit. Zee had no such luxury, and only evaded the one tracking him by holding his wings back at his sides and diving headfirst toward the sea. As it gained on him he suddenly opened his arms wide, coming to a complete halt in the air while the weapon shot past and hit the water.

To Zee’s relief, it didn’t explode but rather created an expanding mound of bright orange foam. Still, a hit from one of them would make it impossible to fly.

Above him Sabbath was taking the fight to the drones, using his laser to blind one of them and hitting a second with a burst of hypervelocity needles from his other arm, which knocked out the drone’s lift fans and sent it tumbling into the sea.

Shooting back apparently pissed off the drone operators, because the two remaining units accelerated, curving around in opposite directions to flank Sabbath, and firing at him with explosive rounds, which detonated close to him and showered him with shrapnel.

Sabbath’s suit could handle the blast and the fragments, and he fired at the drone on his left with his needle gun as it dodged chaotically. Finally he switched modes and launched a spray in its general direction. The edge of the shower hit it and it began to spin uncontrollably and fall.

The remaining drone took the opportunity to get close to Sabbath, hiding in the blind spot behind his shoulders. He jerked with the impacts as it hit him with a pair of shock rounds, and Zee could see the bright sparks of electricity when they hit.

Fortunately for Sabbath the prongs were embedded in his suit, not his flesh, so he did a sudden forward roll and kicked the drone with his heels, then as he dove under it he fired his laser weapon until something inside the drone’s casing caught fire.

“There’s going to be more soon,” Sabbath warned. “If you have a way to shut down the water, use it now.”

“It’s already done,” said Zee. “I asked Dai Chichi to bring some rescue bubbles and block the intakes. You and I were just a diversion.”

Sabbath smiled at that. “Well done! But how did you get him to help you?”

“I asked as nicely as I could—and I pointed out that with the Sixty Families out of power, none of his leverage would protect him.”

“Daslakh’s been teaching you, hasn’t it?”

“Well, by example, I guess. So now—”

Zee didn’t finish his sentence because the drone Sabbath had blinded must have had other senses besides sight to use in targeting its weapons. He felt a thump on his back, as if some overly hearty acquaintance had given him a solid slap, and in the same moment Sabbath, in front of him, was showered with red as the explosive charge blew Zee’s torso apart.


At Miranda’s south pole, the giant phased-array laser sat quietly, a sphere more than a kilometer across, standing on five thick legs. Power, cooling, and access tubes passed through an opening in the bottom to connect the laser to all the infrastructure of Miranda’s civilization under the icy crust. From the right angle one could see a twinkling of dust and ice particles heating to incandescence as they fell into the gigawatt beam it was pumping into space, but the laser light itself was invisible to anybody who wasn’t on a direct line between the sphere and its target. Anybody who was on that line would flash into plasma this close to the emitter array, so there were proximity warnings and flashing safety lights on the crater floor around it.

Suddenly, without any warning and with no other visible sign, the faint sparkle of particles in the beam disappeared. As the flow of cooling water from inside the moon halted, the laser array’s control systems shut down the beam. The safety lights turned off.

And a thousand kilometers away, the inbound payload was no longer decelerating.

In Kavita’s command center at the Mohan-Elso Center, news of this sparked chaos. Her husband Vidhi hurried into the room along with the mech Vasi and a lot of people Adya didn’t recognize.

“We’ve got to get that launching laser back!” Kavita commanded. “Send everyone to the cooling intake and fix whatever’s wrong. Now!”

Adya decided this was her moment. She started to put a sisterly arm around Kavita, reaching for the exposed skin of her scalp with the slap patch. But Kavita whirled and took a step back. The two both hesitated for an instant, then Adya lunged for her sister. Kavita managed to grab her right wrist, holding the slap patch away from herself.

“Somebody come get her!” she shouted.

Adya vaulted over her sister—no great feat in Miranda gravity—putting Kavita between herself and the oncoming guards. With her left hand she drew the multitool she had stashed in the pocket of her vest, and held it to Kavita’s neck. The tool shaped itself into a cutting blade, molecule thick.

“I didn’t want to do this,” said Adya.

“You always want to ruin everything.”

The advancing guards hesitated.

Meanwhile on the display the white dot representing the incoming payload fell faster and faster.

“Go ahead and cut my throat. Then they’ll shoot you, I’ll be good as new in a couple of hours, and my revolution will succeed.” Kavita glared at her followers. “Come on, call her bluff!”

Adya flung down the tool. “I can’t. I wish I could but I can’t,” she said, and then four of the Security officers grabbed her and dragged her away from Kavita.

“Was this all just so you could try to tranq me?”

“Yes,” said Adya.

“I’ve got medics, they’ve got stims and antidotes. It wouldn’t do anything but . . .” Kavita stopped and turned to look at the displays. “Delay me.”

The white dot reached the surface of Miranda. A camera in orbit caught the event in real time. The payload struck the sloping side of a ridge, bounced off, and smashed into the bottom of a valley. A ghostly purple flash followed as the precious cargo of chameleon particles, suddenly holding vastly more mass-energy than when they were harvested on the fringe of interstellar space, shot off in every direction at nearly the speed of light. Everyone in Miranda felt an instant of vertigo at the faint shift of gravity, and the surface of the ocean suddenly broke out in white-capped waves.

“That was a trillion gigajoules!” cried Kavita.

“It was mine,” said Adya.

Kavita raised her fist and took a step toward Adya, then stopped and made herself blue again. She looked at Vidhi. “Does Leiting know? About the payload?”

“I never mentioned it,” he said, and turned to Vasi. “Did I?”

“Not that I witnessed,” said the mech.

“Then don’t. Nobody speak of it. We may be able to pull this off after all.” She turned back to the Security team and her eyes met Adya’s. Her eyes narrowed and she turned pale purple. “You had a plan when you came here. What was it? What now? You can’t get a message out.”

“I don’t need to,” said Adya. “It’s far too late for that.”


The defenders inside the Supreme Temple watched the external camera view as new troops arrived in the plaza outside.

“That doesn’t look good,” said Jothi Rayador. “Those look like combat mechs.”

“Albiorix Tactical Systems model 649 medium-assault chassis,” said Daslakh. “Old but reliable. A mix of smart matter and plain old mass. The primary weapon’s an electromagnetic grenade launcher, plus some micromissiles and a laser.”

“That won’t punch through the doors here,” said Janitha. “Not for a long time, anyway.”

“What about that one?” asked Rayador.

That’s a problem. It’s an ATS model 5320 heavy-assault unit. That thing on its back is a missile launcher, four shots. If they’ve got the right warheads, they can blow this place wide open.”

“I see another one of those,” said Janitha. She looked down at Daslakh. “Still think we can win this?”

“I’m pretty sure we already have but the bad guys don’t know it yet. This would be a good time to open negotiations. Be sure you talk to the merc commander, not Kavita. Pelagia said its name is Leiting.”

“Allow me to be your ambassador,” said Achan. “Those troops might try treachery against the Committee’s commander.”

Rayador studied him. “No glory, Elso. Go out, talk to them, and then come back.”

“Can I come, too?” asked Daslakh. “I know something that may change Leiting’s minds.”

The heavy doors slid open just far enough for Achan and Daslakh to slip out. Adya’s father held a white table napkin in his right hand, which he waved vigorously over his head as they walked. Daslakh made its outer shell white with a red diamond on its back, and stayed in sight next to Achan rather than riding on his shoulder.

Two of the medium-assault units moved forward to meet them, their weapon arms aimed at the ground. The negotiators halted about four meters apart, and the mechs spoke together. “These units are part of the Leiting intelligence, commanding the Intervention Force. Who are you, and what is your authority?”

“I am Achan Elso, a Magistrate, Minister, and member of the Coordinating Committee of Miranda. I have come to speak on behalf of the Committee leader, Jothi Rayador.”

“Leiting requires your immediate surrender.”

“I’m afraid that is impossible. Instead, let us discuss terms for your evacuation.”

“Leiting has encountered little effective resistance. Miranda will soon be entirely under occupation. The new government will make those arrangements when Leiting’s service is complete. You are no longer relevant. Surrender.”

“It may interest you to know that the container of chameleon particles my daughter planned to pay you with has fallen and fragmented on the solid surface. You may have experienced the effects a few minutes ago. Those particles, and the vast value they represented, are beyond recovery now. Kavita has no gigajoules to give you. Any contract you made with her is cancelled.”

A projected image appeared in the air before the two combat units, displaying the figure of ancient General Leiting, hair and beard streaming in a nonexistent wind. “Leiting is communicating with Kavita Elso now.” A long five seconds passed in silence, then the projected figure spoke again. “Kavita Elso assures Leiting that payment will be made as agreed.”

“I must sadly state that my daughter is dishonest. Ask her for specifics—account balances, that sort of thing.”

“Leiting is unable to communicate with Kavita Elso. Leiting must conclude that your statement is at least potentially valid.”

Achan gave a sigh of genuine relief, and his skin color went from formal pale blue to a greener shade. “Excellent!” he said. “Then let us cancel all combat and endeavor to evacuate your forces in peace.”

“Leiting has incurred considerable expense in this operation. Leiting requires payment in excess of 49 billion gigajoules.”

“I’m afraid I have nothing to pay you with. Your agreement was with my daughter Kavita, and her wealth just washed away.”

“There are currently more than six hundred combat units under Leiting’s command inside Miranda, most of them in proximity to multiple biological civilians. Leiting demands payment or those units will begin kill—”

It never finished the word. Achan and the others watching from inside the temple got a confused impression of blinding light flashes and tremendous heat followed by indescribably loud noises, a blur of moving shapes, a shockwave which knocked Achan down, and finally a shower of water droplets and bits of debris.

Daslakh, whose vision had a much faster refresh cycle than the eyes of biologicals, had a millisecond-by-millisecond view of what happened.

When Leiting finished saying “will,” Daslakh saw a hundred bright white leaf-shaped objects, each about ten meters long, erupt from the ocean and fan out through the air, moving at about six kilometers per second.

After “begin” one of the leaf-shaped flyers was directly overhead, about fifty meters up.

As soon as Leiting pronounced the first syllable of “killing,” brilliant threads of light appeared between the underside of the flying unit and all of Leiting’s units in the plaza. The light came from superheated air and antimatter plasma exhaust as the flyer fired hypervelocity missiles at every bot or soldier tagged as non-Mirandan. Each missile was about the size of a medium cucumber and hit with the energy of a speeding cargo train.

The combat units were armored, but even centimeter-thick diamond-graphene laminate has its limits. Daslakh felt a sense of aesthetic pleasure watching as the first missile shattered the carapace of the mech speaking to Achan, and then the second punched through the expanding cloud of plasma and debris to turn the bot’s interior into molten glitter.

“What—” said Achan, sitting up and brushing glowing bits of debris off himself. “What just happened?”

“The Seventh Shinkai Force, I suspect,” said Daslakh. “Maybe one of her sisters. As soon as Leiting made a threat against the people of Miranda this stopped being a matter of politics, and they could intervene. The poor things have been waiting six decades for this moment. I hope it was fun.”


Inside the Mohan-Elso Center auditorium Kavita watched emotionlessly as all the little blue dots on the display, representing Leiting’s mercenaries inside Miranda’s crust, suddenly winked out of existence. The purple dots indicating Kavita’s followers rapidly began to scatter. Meanwhile the reddish-orange loyalist dots spent a few minutes in stunned surprise before moving swiftly in organized groups to retake key locations.

Adya watched the others in the room. Security and Defense officers glanced at one another, and some of them began to move slowly toward the exits, gaining speed as they did until some were sprinting as soon as they got outside. Kavita’s civilian followers just looked confused and disappointed.

“It’s done, Kavita,” said Adya.

“No!” said Vasi. “Don’t listen to her. You can’t give up now. You’ve showed them how powerful you are—make some demands.”

Kavita turned from the mech to her husband. Vidhi kept switching from dark yellow to deep blue, but he brightened a little when his eyes met Kavita’s. “I don’t know what to do, sweetie. You decide,” he said.

“I knew you’d say that,” she said with a half smile. She looked over at Adya. “Don’t believe what Father and Mother tell you about neuro bonding. It’s okay for them because they’re really in love anyway. I love Vidhi because I have to, but the bond can’t make me like him. Sorry, dear,” she said to Vidhi, then turned to Vasi. “I’m not going to beg, and I’m certainly not going to spend the rest of my life trying to keep the attention of my followers.”

Kavita reached inside her tunic and pulled out a little double-barreled personal defense weapon. She turned back to Adya, pointing the weapon at her. “I hate you,” she said calmly. “So I want you to remember: this is all your fault.”

Before Adya could react Kavita put the muzzle under her chin and pressed the trigger. The shaped-charge round was designed to blast through armor, so it turned her head into a red and white fountain. Her body fell at Adya’s feet, spattering her with blood.

Adya didn’t really experience the next few minutes. She ran, pushing through an emergency exit to the garden outside. Vasi was there, shouting something at her but then a bright streak from the sky made Vasi fly to bits and Adya was surprised that there wasn’t more blood because she was covered in blood and didn’t know how to get rid of it.

The seawater was cold and choppy, and she swam by pure reflex. Her clothing sealed up but she had no gills. Eventually something cut through the horror replaying in her mind: a single word from her comm implant, repeating and flashing orange in her vision. “zee.”


Adya ran into the room at Ashupathri City Medical Center where what remained of Zee floated in a tank, pierced by a score of tubes keeping him alive. Below his sternum his body ended at a thick pad of medical smart matter fed by hoses, slowly rebuilding him cell by cell. A doc bot followed her, alerted by her own health monitor implant that she was suffering from exhaustion, borderline hypothermia, and about six different kinds of psychological stress.

She let the bot push her into a support chair and ignored the injections as she switched into the virtual space where Zee’s image—whole and dressed in a comfortable robe—sat in an armchair floating in space a hundred kilometers or so above Miranda.

“I came as quickly as I could,” she said.

“I missed everything,” he said. “I don’t remember anything after I got hit.” He winced a little at the thought, and Adya wondered how much of it he really did recall. “Mr. Okada’s suit kept me alive and got me here. Apparently it’s done that kind of thing before.”

“You didn’t miss very much. Without my payload Kavita couldn’t pay the mercenaries. Their boss tried some extortion but that went badly, and I’m sure there will be lawsuits and counter-suits for generations.”

“How is everybody?”

“My parents are both fine. Father was negotiating with the mercenary commander when it got blown up. Kavita killed herself,” she said without elaboration.

“Ohh,” said Zee, almost a sigh. After a pause he said, “I heard about Pelagia.”

“I feel like it’s my fault she died,” said Adya. “She didn’t have to fight for Miranda. She could have just left.”

“She went out doing what she loved,” he said.

“I wish she hadn’t. I wish you didn’t get yourself blown apart, either.”

“My choice, just like her. We both knew there was a risk—I bet Pelagia knew better than I did. She had a lot more experience.”

“I’ve made a mess of everything, Zee! Everybody’s dead because of me. Even Vasi got hit by a missile as soon as it went outside. Kavita said it’s all my fault when she shot herself.”

“She was just being cruel. You did the right thing,” he said.

She walked around his chair as they floated in space. “My sister Sunitha said she’s covering your revival, but it’s going to take a while to print a new body for you. I’m afraid you’re going to have to get in shape the hard way.”

“That’s what I was planning anyway. Exercise doesn’t just build muscle, it builds knowledge and reflexes. I’ve got some ideas for new approaches to try this time around.”

Adya looked at him fondly. “There aren’t many people who take getting half their body blown off as a chance for improvement.”

“Oh—speaking of that. Are there any . . . changes you want me to order? To myself?”

“No,” she said decisively. “No improvements. I want you back just the way you were.”


Bots were cleaning up the debris in the plaza outside, and the members of the Coordinating Committee were on their way to the old temple for a rare in-person plenary session. In the last free half hour before the Committee convened, Achan, Jothi Rayador, and the Polyarchists sat down for a late lunch. Janitha Velicham had a big spread of fresh sashimi sent over from her sea farm, so the conversation was mostly spoken around mouthfuls of fish. Daslakh sat under the table, listening.

“What’s important is to find those responsible and punish them,” said Rayador.

“Kavita has already done that for you,” said her father. Achan spoke without any humor in his voice.

“I don’t mean her, I mean all the traitors in the agencies and her supporters.”

“What kind of punishment are you talking about?” asked Janitha.

“As harsh as the law allows,” said Rayador. “Make examples of them. Exile, compliance implants, massive fines.”

“If you do that, you’ll have a genuine revolution on your hands,” said Janitha. “Kavita had millions of followers—and for every one who joined her rebellion I bet there were twice as many who sympathized but stayed home. Probably more than a few in the Sixty Families, too. If you try to punish everyone who made supportive remarks or joined in a protest, you’re going to turn Miranda into one big prison. I don’t think the people will stand for that. I know my people won’t.”

“We can’t let this happen again!”

“The Families have been fine with private wars in the past,” Janitha pointed out. “What’s different about this one?”

“It wasn’t just faction against faction, she attacked the entire Committee!”

“A distinction hardly discernable,” said Achan. “Kavita was one faction, the rest of us were the other. In a way, she was just—carrying on the traditions of the Sixty Families.” He couldn’t keep a note of pride out of his voice.

“This would be a good time to announce reforms,” said Janitha.

“Let me guess—Polyarchist reforms.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. A lot of Kavita’s followers were frustrated at being shut out of the ruling class. You can defuse that if you open things up a little. Let anyone bid on Ministries. Expand the Sixty Families. It will bring in fresh talent, too. Your Committee didn’t show much cleverness or backbone this time around.”

“That much is certainly true,” said Rayador. He looked at Janitha suspiciously. “And then I imagine you’ll want to extend the franchise to everyone?”

“Of course not!” she said, so vigorously she had to scrape some fish off her chin. “Once the rulers can’t afford to support the functions of government themselves, they’ll start taxing people, and you’re halfway to collectivism!”

“I will put it before the Committee,” said Rayador. “But anyone in Security or Defense who joined the revolt will get fired.”

“Reasonable,” said Achan. “I assume we Elsos will be exiled? It’s customary for the losers in a power struggle.”

“An Elso started the revolt and two Elsos ended it. Achan, I think I’m just going to let you retire gracefully.”

Daslakh began scuttling quietly toward the exit.

“Perhaps I can find employment as Curator of the Cryoglyphs,” said Achan.

“That’s up to whoever buys Preservation, but I’ll write you a recommendation,” said Rayador as Daslakh slipped outside.


A week after the end of Kavita’s rebellion, Daslakh appeared in the virtual sickroom where Adya and Zee were currently sitting on a balcony overlooking a simulation of the vast island city Lingga on Earth, its towering arcologies surrounding one of four orbital elevators reaching up to the giant Geosynch Ring.

“I came to say goodbye,” it said without preamble.

“I’m not dead,” said Zee, who was sitting in a wicker chair with a drink full of ice and fruit at hand. “Most of my digestive system is back in place and they’re growing me some legs to attach as soon as the spine’s finished.”

“Yes, but I’m leaving in two hours.”

“Leaving Miranda?” said Adya.

“Yes.”

“Why? Is something the matter?” In the virtual environment her skin tones had a much greater range, so she was glowing orange with distress.

“No, no.” The mech hesitated for a second. “Zee, do you know why I went along with you when you left Raba?”

“I thought it was because you’re my friend.”

“Yes—and because Raba asked me to. In fact it really didn’t give me any choice about it. But that’s not important. What matters is the reason why Raba made me go with you. I didn’t find out until later: Raba didn’t send me to look after you. It sent me so that you would take care of me.”

“Really? I mean, you’re pretty good at surviving without any help.”

“Oh, yes. But Raba was more concerned about my . . . call it my moral self. I am good at surviving. Very good. Maybe too good. I’ve done it for millennia. And along the way I’ve done things I’m never going to tell you about. When I did them I thought they were fine. But now I don’t, and it’s because I’ve been hanging around with you. When I want to know the right thing to do, I can ask myself ‘What would Zee do?’ And the answer just pops out.”

“I don’t always know what’s right.”

“You manage to do it anyway,” Adya put in.

Zee looked puzzled, then shook his head. “But . . . why are you going away, then?”

“There’s somebody else who could use a good moral guidance system. My old acquaintance Mr. Sabbath Okada. Qi Tian. Whatever his real name is. He’s leaving Miranda on the next commercial shuttle to Taishi and I’m going to be on it with him. I’m going to help him make better choices.”

“What does he think of that plan?”

“I haven’t told him about it yet. It would only complicate matters.”

“Is there no way to convince you to stay?” Adya asked.

“I’m pretty stubborn.”

“That’s certainly true,” said Zee. “Okay, I can’t make you stay here—but I’ll miss you, Daslakh. Keep in touch?”

“Absolutely. What about you two? Have you made any plans?”

“I’m not getting out of the tank for another week at least, and then I’m going to need a lot of time to get my body into shape. Adya’s just about got her brain chemistry stabilized, so she’s going to be helping her parents adjust to life as ex-oligarchs.”

“There has been some friction,” said Adya wryly.

“You can’t do that forever. Here. I’m sending you a code,” said Daslakh. “I just bought you both tickets to Taishi. Promise me you’ll use them. You can get almost anyplace from there. I don’t think either of you will thrive in Miranda. Adya needs to get away from her family and you . . . well, you need to get away from her family as well. Set a firm date and hold each other to it. Promise?”

“I promise,” said Adya, and Zee nodded vigorously.

Daslakh disappeared.


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