Controlled frenzy, Eberly decided. That’s what this is: controlled frenzy.

Since being named deputy director of the habitat, Eberly had moved his election campaign headquarters out of his apartment and into a vacant warehouse space in the Cairo village. It was large enough to house his growing staff of campaign volunteers and their even-faster-growing sets of computers and communications equipment.

He seldom visited the headquarters, preferring to stay aloof from his foot soldiers. The less they see of me, he reasoned, the more they appreciate my rare visits to them.

This evening before election day was one of those rare visits. Sure enough, the dozens of volunteers swarmed around Eberly as soon as he stepped through the warehouse’s big double doors. They were beaming at him, especially the women.

He allowed himself to be shown around the makeshift workbenches and shook hands with each and every volunteer. He wore his best smile. He assured them that tomorrow’s election would be a smashing triumph for them. They smiled back and agreed that “We can’t lose” and “By this time tomorrow you’ll be the top man.”

Eberly disengaged from them at last, and let Morgenthau lead him to the small private office that had been partitioned off in the far corner of the warehouse space. He had specified that the office should be enclosed by true walls that reached the high ceiling, not merely shoulder-high dividers. And the walls should be soundproofed.

Vyborg was sitting behind the desk in the office when Morgenthau shut the door behind Eberly, Kananga in the chair next to a bank of computer consoles. Both men got to their feet.

“It’s going well,” Vyborg said as Eberly approached the desk.

“Never mind that,” he snapped. “What about Holly? Have you found her?”

“Not yet,” Kananga replied.

“It’s been two weeks!”

“This habitat is very large and I have only a limited number of people to search for her.”

“I want her caught.”

“She will be. I’ve staked out all the places where she can obtain food. We’ll find her sooner or later.”

“Make certain she’s dead,” Vyborg said.

Eberly frowned at that, thinking, They all professes to be Believers but they don’t even blink at the thought of murder. And they want to make me a party to their crimes. Then they’ll have an even stronger hold over me.

Morgenthau wondered, “What if she surrenders herself in some public place? She might be clever enough to show up at the cafeteria at lunchtime and offer to turn herself in.”

Eberly actually shuddered. “If she starts talking, everything we’ve worked for could be ruined.”

“But she’s been neutralized,” Vyborg countered. “I’ve seen to it that everyone believes she’s a dangerous lunatic.”

With a shake of his head, Eberly replied, “No matter what the people believe, if she decides to start blabbing in public it could upset the election. It could throw the election to Urbain. Or even Timoshenko.”

“Tonight is the critical time, then,” Morgenthau said. “By this time tomorrow the election will be over.”

“I want her found tonight.”

“It would be good,” Vyborg said, almost in a whisper, “if she were found dead.”

Kananga nodded. “I’ll put the entire security force on it.”

“Has she any allies?” Eberly asked. “Any friends that she might turn to for help?”

Vyborg said, “She phoned Dr. Cardenas.”

“That was two weeks ago,” said Morgenthau.

“And only once,” added Kananga. “It was too brief for us to catch her.”

“Cardenas?” Eberly suddenly saw the way to catch Holly. “She phoned the nanotech expert?”

“Yes.”

Morgenthau saw the gleam in his eye. “Do you think …?”

“A nanobug threat,” said Eberly. Turning to Vyborg, he commanded, “Put out the news that Holly might be harboring dangerous nanomachines. Make it sound as if she’s a threat to the entire habitat. A nanoplague! Then every person in the habitat will be on the lookout for her. Kananga, you’ll have ten thousand people searching for her!”

The Rwandan laughed delightedly. Vyborg nodded and scampered to the desktop comm unit. As he began dictating a news bulletin, Eberly turned to Morgenthau.

“So much for our fugitive. Now, what are the latest election predictions?”

He expected her to give him a rosy forecast for the election. Instead, her smile faded and a cloud of doubt darkened her chubby face.

“We may have created a Frankenstein monster in this engineer, Timoshenko,” Morgenthau said, turning toward the computer bank.

She called up the latest projection, and a multicolored chart appeared against the bare office wall.

“The blue represents our votes,” said Morgenthau, “the red is Urbain’s and the yellow is Timoshenko’s.”

“We’re well ahead,” said Eberly.

“Yes, but there’s a disturbing trend.” The chart shifted, colors melting or growing. “If Timoshenko’s people throw their support to Urbain, they could beat you.”

“Why would they do that?”

Morgenthau shrugged heavily. “I don’t know why, but it’s happening. Urbain has picked up nearly twenty percent of the voters who were solidly in Timoshenko’s camp only a few days ago.”

“According to your analyses,” said Eberly.

“Which are based on extensive polls by our volunteers out there.” She pointed toward the door. “I may be overly alarmist, but it might be possible for Urbain to pick up enough of Timoshenko’s votes to win tomorrow.”

Eberly stared hard at the chart, as if he could force the numbers to change by sheer force of will. He kept his face immobile, trying to hide the anger and terror churning in his gut. I could lose! And then where would I be? They’ll take me back, put me back in prison!

He barely heard Morgenthau’s voice. “Cancel the election. You’re deputy administrator now. Wilmot’s been neutralized. Cancel the election and set up the government on your own authority.”

“And have three quarters of the population rebel against me?” Eberly snarled at her.

“If they do,” said Kananga, “you’ll have the perfect excuse to establish martial law.”

“Then we could control everyone,” Morgenthau agreed. “I had the blueprints for neural probes beamed here from Earth. Once martial law is established we could arrest the troublemakers and implant them with the neural controllers. It would be just what we want.”

Except that the people would hate me, Eberly thought. They would scheme against me. They’d work night and day to overthrow me.

“No,” he said flatly. “I can’t rule these people by force. Or by turning them into useless zombies.”

“You wouldn’t need neural implants,” said Kananga, drawing himself up to his full height. “I could make certain that they obey you.”

And make me dependent on you, Eberly answered silently. I want these people to respect me, to follow me out of admiration and respect. I want them to love me the way those volunteers outside love me.

“No,” he repeated. “I must win this election legally. I want the people to elect me freely. Otherwise there will be nothing but turmoil and resistance to my rule.”

Morgenthau looked genuinely alarmed. “But if the election goes against you? What then?”