ts, build
an underground, train their descendants to take over. They set out to
bore from within, to make victory out of defeat. The Nathians were long
on patience. They came originally from nomad stock on Nathia II. Their
mythology calls them Arbs or Ayrbs. Go review your seventh grade
history. You'll know almost as much as we do!"

"Like looking for the traditional needle in the haystack," muttered
Orne. "How come you suspect High Commissioner Upshook?"

Stetson wet his lips with his tongue. "One of the Bullones' seven
daughters is currently at home," he said. "Name's Diana. A field leader
in the I-A women. One of the Nathian code messages we intercepted had
her name as addressee."

"Who sent the message?" asked Orne. "What was it all about?"

Stetson coughed. "You know, Lew, we cross-check everything. This message
was signed M.O.S. The only M.O.S. that came out of the comparison was on
a routine next-of-kin reply. We followed it down to the original copy,
and the handwriting checked. Name of Madrena Orne Standish."

"Maddie?" Orne froze, turned slowly to face Stetson. "So that's what's
troubling you!"

"We know you haven't been home since you were seventeen," said Stetson.
"Your record with us is clean. The question is--"

"Permit me," said Orne. "The question is: Will I turn in my own sister
if it falls that way?"

Stetson remained silent, staring at him.

"O.K.," said Orne. "My job is seeing that we don't have another Rim War.
Just answer me one question: How's Maddie mixed up in this? My family
isn't one of these traitor clans."

"This whole thing is all tangled up with politics," said Stetson. "We
think it's because of her husband."

"Ahhhh, the member for Chargon," said Orne. "I've never met him." He
looked to the southwest where a flitter was growing larger as it
approached. "Who's my cover contact?"

"That mini-transceiver we planted in your neck for the Gienah job,"
said Stetson. "It's still there and functioning. Anything happens around
you, we hear it."

[Illustration]

Orne touched the subvocal stud at his neck, moved his speaking muscles
without opening his mouth. A surf-hissing voice filled the matching
transceiver in Stetson's neck:

_"You pay attention while I'm making a play for this Diana Bullone, you
hear? Then you'll know how an expert works."_

"Don't get so interested in your work that you forget why you're out
there," growled Stetson.

* * * *