“Even for Big Uglies, the Nipponese are arrogant,” Kirel said.

“And now they have some good reason for arrogance.” Atvar knew he sounded even more unhappy than his adjutant, but he had cause to sound that way. He turned an eye turret toward Pshing. “Do the Nipponese demand that we evacuate all territory that they occupied when the conquest fleet arrived?”

“Not in this note, no, Exalted Fleetlord,” Pshing said. “What they may do in the future, however, is anyone’s guess.”

“That is a truth.” Kirel’s voice was mournful, too.

After calling up a map of Tosevite political conditions at the time of the conquest fleet’s arrival, Atvar examined it. “There are occasions when I would be tempted to return to the Nipponese the subregion known as China. Considering the difficulties its inhabitants have given us, some other Big Uglies might as well have the dubious privilege of trying to rule them.”

“You cannot mean that, Exalted Fleetlord!” Now Kirel sounded horrified.

And Atvar realized his chief subordinate was right. “No,” he said with a sigh, “I suppose I cannot. All the Tosevite not-empires would take it for a sign of weakness, and they leap on weakness the way befflem leap on meat.”

“What will you tell the Nipponese, then?” Pshing asked.

Atvar sighed once more. “Unfortunately, they have demonstrated strength. And they may be arrogant-or shortsighted-enough to use their new weapons without fear of punishment. Here, Pshing, tell them this: tell them we shall grant them all the diplomatic privileges they request. But tell them also that with privileges comes responsibility. Tell them we are now constrained to observe them more closely than ever before. Tell them we shall take a much more serious view of any potentially aggressive action they may prepare. Tell them they still are not powerful enough to seek any real test of strength against us, and that any attack on us will be crushed without mercy.”

“Very good, Exalted Fleetlord!” his adjutant said, and used an emphatic cough. “It shall be done, in every particular.”

“I thank you, Pshing. Oh-and one thing more,” Atvar said. Pshing and Kirel both looked curious. The fleetlord explained: “Now we hope they listen.”

As Liu Han paced through the prisoners’ camp, she kept shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. It can’t possibly be true.”

Nieh Ho-T’ing gave her an amused look. “It can’t possibly be true because you don’t want to believe it? What kind of logic goes into a statement like that?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “And I don’t care, either. What do you think of that? Tell me where you heard that the eastern dwarfs used an explosive-metal bomb. Did the little scaly devils tell you? I doubt it.” To show how much she doubted it, she used one of the little devils’ emphatic coughs.

But Nieh said, “You do not want to believe it of the Japanese because you hate them even more than you hate the scaly devils.”

“That…” Liu Han started to say that wasn’t true, but discovered she couldn’t. She did hate the Japanese, with a deep and abiding hatred. And why not, when they’d destroyed the village that had been her whole life and slaughtered the family she’d thought would be hers forever? She amended her words: “That doesn’t matter. What matters is what’s true and what isn’t. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, so I didn’t,” the People’s Liberation Army officer admitted. He bowed to Liu Han, as if she were a noblewoman from the old days, the days of the Manchu Empire. “I will, then. No, the scaly devils didn’t tell me. But I heard the guards talking among themselves. I don’t think they knew I understood.”

“Oh,” Liu Han said unhappily. She knew the scaly devils often didn’t pay any attention to what their human captives might hear. Why should they? Even if the humans understood, what could they do about it? Nothing, as Liu Han also knew all too well. She scowled and kicked at the dirt. “Will the Japanese start using their bombs against the little devils here in China, then?”

“Who knows what the Japanese will do?” Nieh Ho-T’ing answered. “I often wonder if even they know ahead of time. But whether they use bombs or not, they’ve gained a lot of face by having them.”

“So they have,” Now Liu Han’s voice went savage. She kicked the dirt again, harder than before. “They learned imperialism from the round-eyed devils. All we ever learned was colonialist oppression. The little scaly devils threw them out of China, but they kept most of their empire and they kept their freedom. And what have we got from the little devils? More colonialist oppression. Where is the justice in that?”

Nieh shrugged. “Justice comes with power. The strong have it. And they give their version of it to the weak. We were unlucky, for we were found weak at the wrong time.”

When Liu Han looked out to the horizon, she did so through strands of razor wire the little scaly devils had set up around the perimeter of the camp. If that didn’t tell her everything she needed to know about strength and weakness, what would? She scowled. “How can we use the Japanese to our advantage?”

“Now that is a better thought.” Nieh Ho-T’ing set a hand on her shoulder for a moment, as if to remind her they’d been lovers once. “The Russians have always refused to give us explosive-metal bombs of our own. So have the Americans. Maybe the Japanese will be more reasonable.”

“Maybe they’ll hope the Russians get the blame,” Liu Han said, which made Nieh laugh and nod. “That might be a reasonable hope, too. I wonder if Mao has this news yet.”

“Mao always knows the news.” Nieh spoke with great assurance. “What he can do with it may be another question. I’m sure he’d be willing to deal with the Japanese to get an explosive-metal bomb. I’m not nearly so sure they’d be willing to deal with him.”

“If I were one of the eastern dwarfs, I’d be afraid of dealing with anyone Chinese,” Liu Han said. “They must know how much vengeance we owe them for what they did to us.”

“That’s true. No one would argue with it,” Nieh said. “But how much do we owe the scaly devils? If that is more, then the Japanese wouldn’t need to fear, for we would want to settle the bigger debt first.”

Though Liu Han knew how to make such cold-blooded calculations, they didn’t appeal to her. “I want to pay back the scaly devils, and I want to pay back the Japanese,” she said. “How can we be free till we punish all our enemies?”

Nieh sighed. “I’ve been fighting for our freedom since I was a young man, and it seems further away than ever. The struggle ahead won’t be any quicker or any easier than the one we’ve already made.”

That made sense, too, but it wasn’t what Liu Han wanted to hear. “I want Liu Mei to live in freedom,” she said, and then her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I want to live in freedom myself. I don’t want either one of us to spend the rest of our days locked up in this prison camp.”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my days here, either,” Nieh Ho-T’ing said. “I am not a young man any more. I do not have so many days to spend anywhere, and this isn’t the place I’d have chosen.” His own smile showed wry amusement. “But the little devils gave us no choice. Your daughter helped make sure they would give us no choice.”

Liu Han turned away. She didn’t want to hear that, either, even though she knew it was true. She started to explain that she understood why Liu Mei had done as she did, but what difference did it make? None. She kept walking.

A man she didn’t know came by her. He gave her a polite nod, so she returned one. Probably with the Kuomintang, she thought. Plenty of prisoners here were. The little devils didn’t care if they and the Communists went right on with their civil war here inside this razor-wire perimeter. That just made life easier for them.

The first time she’d been taken to a camp, things had been a lot easier. The little devils were newer at the game then-and she’d been only an experimental animal to them, not a dangerous political prisoner. The Reds had helped spirit her out of the camp through a tunnel, and no one had been the wiser for a long time. Things weren’t so simple here. No humans went into and out of this camp. People came in. They never went out.