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are the same techniques that can be used to make them.
Bio techniques, when they work, are usually cheaper, less energy
intensive. Right now, less efficient. But we could change that."
Lyr frowned. He seemed to be assuming that the foundation would be
successful, as if there were no doubt at all.
"You're assuming a great deal."
"Could be." He laughed. "Maybe the fact that the foundation is the only
one supporting biological technology means we're the only crazy ones. Maybe
I'm just paranoid."
Lyr frowned again, but said nothing.
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"Any other questions?"
"I'm sure I have dozens. I just can't think of them." Her leg twitched
involuntarily and threw her off balance.
His hand touched her shoulder as if to keep her from pitching sideways.
"Thank you."
"Any last questions?"
"No." Her lips were dry, and she licked them once, then again. "I'm
probably wrong, but I just don't think I could stay here, not unless I have
some better idea of who and what you are, what you look like."
"All right. Will you consider staying, then?"
"I'll consider it."
His hand squeezed her shoulder gently, and he stepped around the swivel
and stood before her, next to the screen.
She looked up.
The familiar hawk-yellow eyes caught her attention first, that and the
hint of darkness behind them, a darkness that hinted at a man far older than
the one who faced her. She studied his face, the sharpish nose, the unlined
and smooth skin, thin lips, and the short and blond curly hair cut
military-style. He had neither beard nor mustache.
While his chin was not pointed, it narrowed in a way that almost gave
him an elfin look, had it not been for the penetrating power of his eyes and
the strength of his nose.
Once more, she tried to focus on his body, but the black of the
formfitting singlesuit he wore kept pushing her eyes away from his form and
toward the floor or his face.
He noted her confusion. "It's a full-fade combat suit."
"You aren't. . ."
"No. Just something useful."
She licked her lips again. His face, even with the hawk-eyes, looked
familiar, but she could not say why. She had never met him, outside of the
interview years ago, that and the scattered screen contacts. That she knew;
yet he seemed familiar.
"No horns. No black cloud." He smiled.
"No recognition, either," she countered.
"Didn't say you'd recognize me. Said the ability to recognize me might
be dangerous."
Lyr cocked her head to one side. For all the clipped sentences, the
shortened words, his speech pattern had a touch of a lilt, an odd tone that
she had never heard before. She wondered why she had not picked it up earlier,
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even though there was no doubt now that he was the man who had interviewed
her. The unique hawk-eyes were enough to confirm that. Perhaps the screen
speakers did not reproduce the lilt, underlying his speech as it did.
"Shall we dive for the event horizon?" she asked.
He raised his eyebrows in inquiry, but said nothing.
"Who are you?"
He shrugged. "If you insist . . . MacGregor Gerswin, at your service."
"I don't recognize the name, either."
"Never said I was famous. Glad to know I'm not." He took a step to the
side. "How are your legs?"
Lyr tried to lift her right foot, could feel the effort, but the leg did
not move. "Better, but I still can't move them."
"Shouldn't be too long." He spread his hands. "Now that you've unmasked
me . . . what next?"
"I don't know."
"Still want to quit?"
"Common sense screams that I should, but I wouldn't want to force anyone
else to go through one of your employee searches, Ser Gerswin."
"What can I say?"
"Don't. Just be thankful I'm as crazy as you are. But," and her voice
hardened, "don't sneak in again and change the files without at least warning
me that you might be in the area. And fax me directly without that damned hood
and mask."
He laughed. "I'll do both, unless I can't reach you. Promise me you'll
look before pulling your stunner."
"I promise."
A frown crossed his face. "I should have left some time ago."
"Another woman. I knew it."
He shook his head. "Duty, so to speak. I have . . . other obligations. I
will stay in touch. How is your leg?"
"The feeling's back."
"Good." He nodded, bent, and picked up a small case from beside the base
of the console, a case she had never seen, for all the time it had apparently
lain there.
With a salute, he turned and was gone.
So quickly had he departed that Lyr shook her head to make sure he had
indeed gone. What else had she missed? Besides everything?
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MacGregor Gerswin? Was he in any of the lists?
She bent over the console, nearly losing her balance again as her legs
twitched. Feeling had returned to both, along with the faint sensation of
needles jabbing at her skin.
"Might as well search while you wait," she said softly to herself. She
did not trust her legs to bear her weight yet.
No MacGregor Gerswin appeared in any of the New Augustan Imperial
Government directories, not even an M. Gerswin.
Imperial Service? Which one?
She tried the Marine Directory.
Nothing.
Aeorspace Defense?
Nothing.
Retirees?
No such listing.
Interstellar Survey Service?
"Individual names and assignments are not available for security
reasons. An alphabetical listing of names is available with rank and
communications locator code. Do you wish to continue search?"
She tapped in "Yes."
"Gerswin, MacGregor Corson, Senior Commander, 455 NC 466/OS."
That was all.
Lyr shook her head tiredly, conscious of the fatigue in her legs as the
stunner wore off. It had been a long day before the evening's events.
"Just a senior commander. Not even a commodore?
"But he never claimed anything," she answered her own question.
She tapped the screen and erased the inquiries. She'd have the time.
Cursing and damning herself for a fool, she knew she would have the time.
XXIII
What forecast the fall of the Empire?
Was it the increasing development and resource requirements of the
associated systems, pushing inevitably as they did for use of those resources
for more local needs? Was it merely a turning away from the Imperialist nature
of the Empire? Was it a repudiation of the growing corruption manifested in
New Augusta?
Was it the development of the totally impartial Galactic Communications
Network by the fanatically honest Ydrisians, whose peaceful intentions were
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