WITH THE LIGHTNINGS(42)

The situation with the Alliance of Free Stars was even simpler: planets that revolted against the Guarantor's authority were nuked to subsistence level or below. Chief Planetary Administrators were always foreigners, and no warship of any size had a crew with a majority of members from any single planet.

Neither Cinnabar nor the Alliance could be described as a universal democracy, but both systems worked to provide a manpower base sufficient to a large fleet. Kostroma had proceeded in a different fashion in the years immediately following the Hiatus, when those worlds with the ability to navigate the stars had enormous advantages over the neighboring systems they contacted. It was too late to change now.

"Now, we know you can't talk about the negotiations," Parzifal said, bending closer than Daniel liked. "Still, you'll drop a word in your admiral's ear, won't you? Imagine a whole Kostroman squadron with you when you engage the Alliance fleet!"

"When I'm next alone with Admiral Lasowski . . ." Daniel said. That would be sometime in her next incarnation if Lasowski had anything to say about it. "I'll see that the point is stressed."

In fact, neither Walter III or any responsible Elector of Kostroma would accept a gift of warships which required the vessels to be used against the Alliance. That would be equivalent to dropping Kostroma and its trade into a meat grinder. Kostroma couldn't be made strong enough to resist all-out Alliance attack, and taking sides in the conflict would guarantee such attack.

What Kostroma needed was exactly what Welcome had sneered at a moment before: a significant upgrade to its orbital defense system. If the Alliance captured Kostroma, most of its ships, even those off-planet, would come as well because the owners were in Alliance hands.

An orbital minefield prevented a quick capture, since a properly laid one took weeks or even months to reduce. No Alliance fleet could remain so long in a hostile system without a base, knowing that Cinnabar would respond with even greater force before the Alliance could capture the planet.

Well, Kostroma's defenses weren't ideal but they were probably good enough. And they weren't the concern of Lt. Daniel Leary, either.

He finished his cup of punch and said, "I see what you mean," as he prepared to cut himself clear of the trio.

"Say, Leary," Candace said, putting an arm around Daniel's shoulders to move him aside. Welcome and Parzifal turned their backs, obviously by prearrangement.

In a conspiratorial tone Candace went on, "Do you think you can get some time clear tomorrow?"

"Umm," said Daniel. This didn't sound like an offer to address a prayer breakfast, but he'd learned to be cautious about what he was agreeing to. "That might be possible, yes."

"My family's got a fishing lodge on a little island not too far from here," the Kostroman lieutenant explained. "I was going to visit it tomorrow. The accommodations aren't palatial, but there are compensations—privacy, for example. Now, it occurs to me that my Margrethe has a friend who might really like to meet a visiting naval officer. Interested?"

He knuckled Daniel's ribs with the hand that wasn't around his shoulders.

Daniel pursed his lips. He was able to make his own arrangements, but if circumstances wanted to drop opportunities in his lap—that was all right as well. He grinned. "I'd be delighted to see more of your interesting planet," he said truthfully.

"I'll bet you would!" Candace said, punching Daniel again. "At midday I'll be at your lodgings in my aircar. And you'll give good hard thought to building up the Kostroman Navy, right?"

"I sure will!" Daniel said brightly as he moved away.

It was hard to imagine anything at all good in the idea, but he didn't need to say that. After all, Candace was a friend. And getting to be a very good friend, in his way.



The young officer who'd just danced a gavotte with Adele wore a costume including at least six major color elements, most of which clashed with those nearest them in the ensemble. Apparently Kostroma's Homo militaris was even less restrained in his notions of attractive garb than was his civilian counterpart.

The Kostroman stepped back, made a full formal bow, and said, "You have given me a great honor, Ms. Mundy. You dance divinely."

He was quite serious. The pack of his gaily dressed fellows poising to beg her company for the next dance proved that beyond even Adele's doubt. She couldn't have been more surprised if someone informed her she'd been chosen to replace Guarantor Porra.

"No more for a moment," she called loudly to forestall the rush of insistent Kostromans. "I really need to stand for a moment and have something to drink."

That was the wrong thing to have said: she hadn't specified water and the herd of naval officers was already thundering toward the buffet. She'd have twenty-odd glasses of punch pressed on her in a moment. The sip she'd taken earlier convinced her that the fluid would make a satisfactory paint stripper but had no other proper human purpose.