“No, not at all—you only had to talk your way past a few dozen of the System’s strongest security blocks first!”

Lona shrugged it off. “Just basic logic.”

“Yes, getting baser and baser as it goes along. And just what did you and the Brave New World have to say to each other?”

“Oh, I just convinced it that Father Marco’s the only one aboard who might stand even a remote chance of fixing it, if it ever broke down. It saw my point right away, and promised that, when it came time to wipe brains, it would skip Father Marco’s.”

Whitey nodded, with a wry smile. “I was wondering why he was suddenly eager to go. I could see a Cathodean being willing to leave civilization for the sake of the Church—but technology is another matter.”

“I thought they ought to be able to keep some link to reality,” Lona agreed. “And the only place they could do that, without it leaking out to the whole society, is inside the walls of a monastery.”

“How pure and altruistic of you,” Whitey muttered.

Lona shrugged. “I just have fun with computers, Grandpa.”

“Well, enjoy it while you can,” Whitey sighed. “I have a notion our new lords and masters aren’t going to think too highly of fun—especially your kind.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t thought about the future here.” Dar frowned. “Maybe Horatio and his buddies aren’t all that much crackpots.”

“Things could get rather dull here,” Lona agreed. “That’s why, as long as I was on the phone, I got in touch with the Bank of Terra’s computer, Grandpa, and had all your funds transferred to the Bank of Maxima.”

A delighted grin spread across Whitey’s face. “How thoughtful of you, child!”

Dar frowned. “Maxima? The place that built Fess? He’s says it’s just a barren piece of rock!”

“With robot factories,” Lona reminded him, “which includes computer factories. And computer technicians and cybernetics experts, of course—my kind of people.”

“But I thought you wanted to participate in the life of decadence.”

“I do, if I can—but if I have to choose between that and toying with circuits and programs, I know where the real fun lies. Besides, Maxima’s close to Terra; I might be able to come down for a spree, now and then.”

“Then why transfer the money there? All of it?”

“Because Maxima’s the one world that might be able to keep the central government from gimmicking its computers,” Lona explained. “That keeps the money intact, not to mention our privacy.”

“Privacy? You think that’ll be threatened?” Dar turned to Whitey, frowning. “You really think it’s going to get that bad here?”

“It’s called a police state,” Whitey explained. “I’m sure they intend to include Maxima in it, too—in theory.”

“But not in practice,” Lona assured him. “At least, not if I have anything to say to the Maxima computers.”

“A chip off the old bloke, if ever there was one!” Whitey grinned. “Your mama would’ve said just the same. Well then, if Maxima’s where you’re bound, we’d better get started.” He pulled out the recall unit and pressed a button. “Should be here, pretty soon.” He turned to Dar. “How about you? Like to lift away from here?”

“Yes, I would, thank you—very much.”

“Thought so. You could go back to Wolmar, you know. The LORDS party’s been saying for a long time that the frontier worlds cost too much, that we ought to just cut them off and leave ‘em to their own devices. Might be some hard times coming out in the marches, but the worlds there should at least keep their freedom.”

Dar nodded. “I’d thought about that. In fact, I’m pretty sure General Shacklar—our governor—has had that in mind for a while, too. Also Myles Croft, on Falstaff.”

“Well, I know My’s been getting strapped down and ready to go on his own, so I don’t doubt your Shacklar has, too. But I take it you’re not planning to go back there.”

Dar frowned. “How’d you figure that out?”

“ ‘Cause if you were, you would’ve hitched a ride with Horatio and gotten dropped off with Stroganoff. What’s the matter? Had a taste of the fleshpots, and decided to stay near ‘em?”

“You’ve got me pegged,” Dar admitted. “How’d you guess?”

“Believe it or not, I was young once, myself.”

“The trick is, believing that he ever aged.” Lona stepped a little closer to Dar, and it seemed to him that he could feel her presence as a physical pressure. And her eyes danced; she was watching him with a smile that was both secretive and amused. “Where were you planning to go?”

“Someplace,” Dar pronounced, “where I’ll never have to hear about that Interstellar Telepathic Conspiracy again.”

“Yeah, that’s a masterstroke of confusion, isn’t it?” Whitey chuckled. “I never saw a Big Lie work so well—it even has some of the liars convinced! I love watching a fantasy go out of control.”

“Oh, it isn’t total fantasy,” Dar mused. “There’s a grain of substance to it.”

Whitey gave him a sidelong glance. “You sure about that?”

“Well, it kinda makes sense, doesn’t it?” Dar spread his hands. “With all that fuss and bother, there should’ve been at least one real telepath at the bottom of it all.”

“Should’ve, maybe.” Lona gave him her most skeptical look. “Would’ve’s another matter. When it comes to telepathy, if it doesn’t have integrated circuits, I won’t believe in it.”

“Just telepaths?” Dar gave her the skeptical look back. “I would’ve said that was how you looked at everything.”

“There’s some truth to that,” Lona admitted. “I don’t have too much use for dreams, unless someone’s trying to make them come true. Telepathy as a dream, now, I can see that—if someone’s trying to invent a way to make it happen. Or faster-than-light radio, or maybe even rearranging the bonds in a single molecule, to make it into a complete electronic circuit.”

Dar’s skeptical look turned into a fish-eye. “That’s your idea of a dream?”

“Well, the only ones that I’d talk about in public.” She had the amused, secretive look back, and her eyes transfixed him. “Don’t you have any?”

Dar frowned, and his gaze drifted away, out toward the stark, cruel sharpness of the lunar plain. “No … I’m a little low on them, right now. I’ll settle for getting away from Terra while I can.”

A bulbous, pitted, teardrop fell from the starfield and drifted down, settling over the boarding-tube the Brave New World had used. Sensing a ship, it lifted and quested, homing automatically on the airlock, probing and touching tentatively, then locking tight.

“Fess’s here,” Whitey announced. “Let’s go get safe, younglings.”

They stepped into the drop-tube and came out into the concourse. No one talked as they walked the quarter-mile to the gate; each was wrapped in his own thoughts, realizing that he or she was leaving Terra forever. Though Lona was making plans about how to be able to come back for visits, safely; that was her only real concern with the planet. She’d been raised between the stars, after all; to her, Mother Earth had always been only an extravagant relative, to visit when you wanted a treat. Dar had never been to Terra before, and didn’t particularly care to visit again; but Whitey had been born and reared on Manhome. Memories were here, many of them; but for him, now, the triune goddess had shifted; Hecate had ceased to be either mother or lover, and had become the murderess. If he came back to her arms, he would die. The children didn’t know that, because they didn’t know what he was planning to do; but he did.

They stepped into the gate’s lift-tube, and drifted up through the airlock, into Fess’s familiar frayed interior. “Ah, home,” Whitey sighed, “or what passes for it these days… Fess, get me a shot of real Scotch, will you? I’d like it to go with the view as we leave.”

“Certainly, Mr. Tambourin. Lona? Dar?”

“Vermouth would be nice, right now,” Dar mused.

“Water,” Lona said firmly, “at least, until we’re on our way.” She dropped into her acceleration couch and webbed herself in. Dar sank down on the couch next to hers. The bar chimed softly, and he popped back up to fetch the drinks. “No, stay put, Whitey.”