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"We have a sea breeze on Chargon that we treat the same way," said Orne. "I'm sure Lewis would like to be left alone for a while now," said Polly. "This is his first day out of the hospital. We mustn't tire him." She crossed to the polawindow, adjusted it to neutral gray, turned the selectacol, and the room's color dominance shifted to green. "There, that's more restful," she said.
"Hope everything's to your taste here." "Lewis was just telling me that our place is very like his mother's home on Chargon," said Polly. "It's old fashioned, but we like it," said Bullone. "Just a great big tetragon on a central pivot. We can turn any room we want to the sun, the shade or the breeze, but we usually leave the main salon pointing northeast. View of the capital, you know."
"And every scrap we've intercepted deals with the coming elections." "But the election's only a couple of days off!" protested Orne. Stetson glanced at his wristchrono. "Forty-two hours to be exact," he said. "Some deadline!" "Any names in these old records?" asked Orne. Stetson nodded. "Names of planets, yes. People, no. Some code names, but no cover names. Code name on Chargon was Winner.
"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.
He flipped a switch on his desk, dictated the notification to Central Secretarial, ordered it sent out priority. Then he went groundside and got drunk on Hochar Brandy, Orne's favorite drink. The next morning there was a reply from Chargon: "Lewis Orne's mother too ill to travel. Sisters being notified. Please ask Mrs.
Runs in her family. Her mother was the same way." Orne stared at him, fork raised from plate and motionless. A sudden idea had exploded in his mind. "You must know something of this life, Lewis," said Bullone. "Your father was member for Chargon once, wasn't he?" "Yes," murmured Orne. "But that was before I was born. He died in office." He shook his head, thought: It couldn't be ... but
"I hated it!" he growled. "First chance, I ran away. One of my sisters married a young fellow who's now the member for Chargon. I hope he enjoys it!" "That'd be Maddie," said Diana. "You know her?" asked Orne. Then he remembered what Stetson had told him, and the thought was chilling. "Of course I know her," said Diana. "Lew, what's wrong with you?"
There was a contour bed against one wall, several built-ins, and a door partly open to reveal bathroom tiles. Everything traditional and comfortable. "I already do feel at home," he said. "You know, your house is very like our place on Chargon. I was surprised when I saw it from the air. Except for the setting, it looks almost identical."
"We've a situation that could explode into another Rim War, and we think he's at the heart of it," said Stetson. "We've eighty-one touchy planets, all of them old-line steadies that have been in the League for years. And on every one of them we have reason to believe there's a clan of traitors sworn to overthrow the League. Even on your home planet Chargon."
He read, pursing his lips: "Home Planet: Chargon. Notify in case of accident or death: Mrs. Victoria Orne, mother." He leafed through the pages, reluctant to send the hated message. Orne had enlisted in the Marak Marines at age seventeen a runaway from home and his mother had given post-enlistment consent. Two years later: scholarship transfer to Uni-Galacta, the R&R school here on Marak.
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