"Then stage an ambush in the Shadowline," Moira said. "Use guns instead of cameras. Grab some of their people."
"I don't want them to know we know. That would bring on the war before we're ready."
"War?" Moira and Korando asked. The girl's voice squeaked.
"Of course. If there's something out there worth the trouble they've invested in stealing it, then it's worth our fighting for it to get it back."
Korando said, "Boss, you've got one hell of a subjective way of looking at things. On the map... "
"The Shadowline starts in Edgeward territory. As far as I'm concerned, the whole damned thing is ours. Doesn't matter that it wanders up above Twilight's south parallel."
So there's a little pirate in this Blake, too, Moira thought. She smiled. It took claim-jumper types to make money on Blackworld. "What's my part in this?" she asked. "You knew I couldn't help with what Frog found. So why drag me in?"
"You're right. You're right. Smart girl. I've got something in mind, something complicated. Do you think you could kill Dee?"
"Plainfield? Yes. I've thought about it. I could. I don't know how reliable I'd be afterward."
"Could you not kill him?"
"I don't understand."
"Could you be around him, exposed to him, and not do something to get even?"
"I don't know. Maybe. If there was a good reason. What are you driving at?"
"You think you could be friendly? Or more?"
Her breakfast slammed against her esophagus. She took a moment to force it down. Then it struck her that she could exact a much more satisfying revenge if she could get the man to love her before she killed him. The sheer cruelty of it felt good.
That was when she first realized how truly deep her hatred for Plainfield ran. It was an obsession. She would do anything.
She frightened herself. And did not like Moira very much. That was not the sort of person she wanted to be.
"What do you want me to do? I'll do it."
"Eh?"
"I'll do whatever you want me to do, as long as getting Plainfield is part of the deal."
Blake peered at her. "Don't let them turn you over to their women," he muttered. He seemed disappointed. "All right. Here's my thinking. It's still rough. We'll smooth it out as we go. First, we send you to Twilight Town. We're going to ticket you through to Old Earth. You can't get a through ship from any other port. We'll arrange a meet with our man there if we can. Then you'll take the first Earthbound ship out. You'll leave it at Weiderander's Station, cash in the rest of your ticket, and buy another for The Big Rock Candy Mountain under a different name. We're going to enroll you in the Modelmog. They've started taking rich kids in order to balance their books."
The Modelmog was the century's foremost study center for young artists, actors, and writers. As Blake suggested, the school had fallen on hard times. Rich no-talents were being admitted to carry the costs of subsidizing the talented but poor who made up the bulk of the student body. Substantial endowments were the price of the university's highly respected diplomas.
"What's this got to do with Plainfield?" Moira demanded. Her voice was plaintive. "It's awful complicated."
"Patience, child. Patience. I'm getting to it. At the Modelmog we want you to vamp a poet named Lucifer Storm. He's a talented young man, they say, and quite handsome. You shouldn't find him repulsive. Attach yourself. He'll be your passport into the Fortress of Iron. That's the headquarters of the mercenary Gneaus Storm. Dee is in and out of there all the time. You should have no trouble making contact. Become his consort."
"I see. Live with him and spy on him."
"Exactly."
"For how long?"
"There's more than Frog's paybacks to worry about, girl. There's Edgeward. I'm a big fish around here, but out there I'm just a minnow. I can't make enemies out of sharks."
Moira was intelligent. She recognized his problem, thought she found it emotionally unpalatable. "All right. Butyou're making it too complicated. I'll mess it up for sure."
Blake chuckled. "I've been studying Moira Eight, too, dear. She's no dummy. Her acquaintances say she's a very good actress, both on stage and in her personal life. Dramatist White thinks he's made a real find."
Moira shrugged. Secretly, she was pleased. Mr. White never said anything of the sort to her.
"My Dad, and my grandfather, they treated old Frog pretty bad. If I'd been in charge, I'd have done it different. Frog was important. He reminded us that we aren't gods. He reminded us that what was good for the Corporation wasn't always good for Edgeward's people. He didn't realize it, and my Dad only saw the edges of it, but your old man kept Edgeward from turning into something like Twilight. You'll see what I mean if we send you. Blake and Edgeward still have a human side—despite my Board of Directors. I digress. I'm sorry. It's my hobbyhorse."
"May you never dismount, sir," Korando said.
"Albin is my conscience. He came from Twilight."
"I know. He was an exile. Frog brought him in. He's sort of my brother. That was a long time ago."
"A long time ago," Korando agreed. "Had a habit of collecting strays, didn't he?"
Grimly, Blake said, "I wish he were here today. I've got to present this to the Board pretty soon. He's the kind who could have bullied them into line. They were afraid of him. Still are, in a way. As if he might come back to haunt them."
"He has, hasn't he?" Moira asked. "When do we start? What do we have to do?"
Thirty-Eight: 3031 AD
Going home did nothing to brighten anything. The Fortress of Iron was gravid with bad news.
Wulf and Helmut had put a prize crewman aboard the singleship Dee had stolen. She and her escort had been attacked while returning home. The guilty warships had been of Sangaree configuration. Only one of them had survived. Wulf and Helmut had been forced to let it escape. Its crew had managed to recapture the medicare cradles containing Benjamin and Homer. The High Seiners had tracked the fleeing ship. They said it had made planetfall on Helga's World.
"We're right back where we started," Storm groaned from his own cradle.
"Oh, no," Helmut told him. He wore a sickly grin. "We're way worse off. The Fishers say Michael and Fearchild Dee arrived on Blackworld this morning."
"That's impossible." Storm's heart hammered so hard his cradle fed him a mild sedative.
"Not quite," Wulf said. "His wife got him out. She was on Helga's World. He instelled her during the chase. She spaced and followed you to the prison. That's the story they're telling on Blackworld."
"He's got a new wife?"
"All we know is what we get in the reports," Helmut growled. "It's the old wife. I thought she was dead, too. But our man got into their pockets while they were explaining to Seth-Infinite. He even found out how she followed Dee."
"How?"
"Limited range, general broadcast instel. A little node of a thing he swallowed before he was captured. It didn't last long, but it got her into the area of the asteroid."
"We get an ultimatum?"
"The minute that raidship grounded," Wulf replied. "No signature, of course. We take the Blackworld contract or we never see Benjamin or Homer again. I guess they'll try to frame Blake Mining with the snatch."
Storm lay back, stared at a pale ceiling. He needed no signature to know who had sent that message. Helga Dee. And she would not bother trying to cover her tracks. He was tempted to ignore it. Benjamin and Homer were his flesh, but he could balance their lives against those of all the Legionnaires who would die in combat. "What's our movement status?"
"Go. We can start any time."
"Activate Trojan Hearse," Storm ordered.
Nobody protested. Nobody acted surprised. He was amazed. That had done everything but laugh when, years ago, he had presented the contingency plan. They had seen no need to be ready to break into Festung Todesangst.