“Ozzie’s asteroid?” Mark asked. “No big deal.”

“Even in today’s climate, the news shows would be very interested indeed in Mr. Isaac’s home.”

“I don’t get this,” Mark said. “I’m not some superphysicist. I repair machinery. What’s so important about that? Millions of us do it.”

“You’re actually very, very good at maintaining electromechanical systems, Mark. We checked. Thoroughly. The project you’ll be working on requires a great deal of robotic assembly. Although there are other factors which brought your name to our attention.”

“Such as?” Liz asked.

“Apart from respecting confidentiality, you have acute financial problems which we can remedy. If you agree to take this job, we will pay off every debt you accrued on Elan. Mrs. Vernon, you have the kind of biotechnology skills which we can utilize. It’s not as if we’ll expect you to act the dutiful housewife for the duration of the project. I’m sure that will make a pleasant change for you.”

Liz sat perfectly still. “Thank you.”

The contract was still flowing down Mark’s virtual vision. “If I say yes, where will we be based?”

“Cressat.”

“The Sheldon world? I didn’t think anyone else was allowed there,” Liz said.

“We are making exceptions for this project. However, we don’t have to in your case. Mark’s a Sheldon, that qualifies his whole family for residency.”

Mark tried not to flinch when Liz turned to stare at him. He’d never considered his heritage worth talking about; if anything it was mildly embarrassing. “Hardly direct lineage,” he muttered defensively.

“Your mother is only seven generations removed from Nigel. That’s good enough.”

“Wait,” Liz said. “This isn’t a navy project?”

Giselle Swinsol gave her a blank smile. “Mark?”

“What? You want an answer now?” he asked.

“Certainly.”

“But you’ve told me nothing.”

“You will be working in a job that will provide an excellent lifestyle for your family, far greater than the one you enjoyed on Elan. You will be rid of all your debts. And we absolutely guarantee your safety. The only downside will be restricted communications with your friends and immediate family. This project must remain secret.”

“I don’t like offers which are too good to be true,” Liz said. “They usually are.”

“Not so. This is on the level.”

“Is it dangerous?” Mark asked.

“No,” Giselle Swinsol said. “You will be working with sophisticated assembly systems. It is challenging, not dangerous. Look, this is not some game, Mark, I’m not in the business of going around defrauding people. In any case, I can’t scam you; you don’t have any money. This is a genuine offer. Take it or leave it.”

“How long is it for?” Mark asked.

“Difficult to say. Hopefully not more than a year, two at the outside.”

He glanced at Liz. “What do you think?”

“We’re broke. I can probably live with it. Can you?”

What he didn’t want to ask his wife was how much she’d been drinking that afternoon; alcohol tended to bring out a bullish streak in her, so she might well want to change her mind in the morning. Looking at Giselle Swinsol, he didn’t think there was any kind of second thoughts get-out clause being put on the table for them. The file was open at the part on health care and schooling. The contract he had with Prism Dynamics didn’t even have that section. “Okay, we’ll take it.”

“Excellent.” Giselle Swinsol got to her feet. “The car will pick you and the children up at seven-thirty tomorrow morning. Please be ready.”

“I’ll have to tell Prism Dynamics,” Mark said. The speed this was happening was leaving him disconcerted, almost as if he wanted an excuse to say no.

“That’ll be taken care of,” Giselle Swinsol said. “You can tell your immediate family you’ve got another job on a new planet. Please don’t tell them where you’re going.”

“Right.”

“Your certificate, Mark, please.”

“Oh. Yes.” He told his e-butler to add his certificate to the contract, and sent it back to her.

“Thank you.” She started for the hall.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Mark asked.

“No, Mark, you won’t.”

The front door closed smoothly behind her. Mark ran his hand back through his hair. “Goddamn, what a ballbreaker.”

“Yeah, but one that’s saved our asses. I wonder what the project is?”

“Some big military production line. I guess that’s where the automated assembly comes in. They’re going to bypass High Angel; that was only ever about politics.”

“Could be.”

“You don’t believe that?”

“It really doesn’t matter. We’ll find out for sure tomorrow.”

“You sorry I said yes? We could always not turn up.”

“I wouldn’t like to try that, not with Ms. Giselle Swinsol on our asses.”

“Guess not.”

“But you did the right thing. I just didn’t like the way she tried to bump us into saying yes. Then again, I suppose if you are building military systems right now, you can’t afford to waste any time.”

“Yeah. You know, I think I feel good about this already. I’m doing something to hit back at the bastards.”

“I’m glad, baby.” Liz put her arm around his neck, and pulled him close for a kiss. “How come you never told me you’re a Sheldon?”

“I’m not, really. Not part of the Dynasty, anyway.”

“Humm.” She kissed him again. “So what do we do till half past seven tomorrow?”

***

Oscar and Mac arrived outside Wilson’s office at the same time. Anna rose from behind her desk to kiss them both.

“He’s ready for you,” she told them.

“So how’s married life?” Mac asked.

“Oh, you know, we’re just like any other couple trying to pay off the mortgage.”

“Screw that,” Oscar said. “What was the honeymoon like? Spill it.”

Anna glanced back over her shoulder and gave him a saucy wink. “Euphoric, of course. An entire ten hours out of the office. What more could any girl want?”

Wilson greeted both of them warmly. “Thanks for coming. I try to see each captain before they leave. I don’t suppose it’s a tradition that’ll last much longer. We’re really starting to get a rush of components through for the next batch of starships. The emergency budget is showing some results, thank God.”

“Some good news,” Oscar said as he lowered himself cautiously into one of the scooplike chairs. He hated anything with so much spongy padding. “I haven’t seen that on the unisphere shows. They’re still busy navy-bashing.”

“You won’t,” Wilson said. “We’re holding back on specifics. We don’t know how much information the Primes glean from the unisphere.”

“Are you serious?”

“They must be trying to keep themselves updated about our capabilities,” Anna said. “We have to assume they datamined the Lost23. They know what we had at the time of the attack.”

“We’re watching them,” Wilson said. “QED.”

“Have we had any indication they’re running a surveillance operation?” Mac asked.

“Not as such. But then they haven’t spotted ours, yet.”

“I haven’t spotted ours yet,” Oscar protested.

“Rafael’s running it.” Anna gave him a teasing smile. “We’ve released hundreds of thousands of microsatellites in each system. It’s similar to the technique they used against us, open a wormhole and keep moving the end point. They can detect it, but they can’t investigate each opening.”

“So a lot of the satellites survive,” Wilson said. “They report back to us on a constant basis through the wormhole.”

“Information we are also keeping from the unisphere,” Anna said. “What the satellite swarms are showing us isn’t good.”

“They’re digging in on each of the Lost23,” Wilson said. “Wormholes have now been anchored on the planetary surfaces. The amount of equipment and aliens coming through is quite phenomenal, even by what we understand as Prime standards. Dimitri Leopoldovich was quite right, damn him; we’re not going to reclaim those planets.”

“So do we cancel the planetary section of the counterattack?” Mac asked.