The Insurrection

"Stop, thiefi" Fio

"Stop him, Chris! That's Madam Wu's pursel" "Yes, ma'am!" ,Felderman lunged after the thief, his long legs gaining ground quickly, and Fio

She knew better than to turn and run.

There was no time to resummon Chris. The thoughts flicked through her brain like lightning, yet her reactions were even faster. Her hand darted into her bag. Her fingers found the butt of the needler. She didn't try to draw the weapon; she simply raised the bag and pistol together.

The killers were from the world of Shiloh. They hadn't expected their tarset to be armed; still to ess had they allowed for the reac'taon speed a high-grav planet instills. But they could not mistake her movements, and they were the best money could buy.

The thunder of two compact machine pistols buried the high, shrill whine of the needler.

Fio

She opened her eyes. It was Chris Felderman leaning over her, she thought confusedly. But why was he crying?

"Chris?" The voice was hers, but she'd never heard herself sound so weak. Something dribbled down her chin, and she realized it was blood. She felt only a distant curiosity at the thought.

"DD-ON'T try to talk, Fio

The medics are coming." "M--medics?" She blinked at him. A mist was rising from the pavement, obscuring her vision, and the temperature had fallen. Then she understood, and she managed a weak smile. "Don't think.., it'll matter.., much," she whispered.

"It will! It will!" Chris sobbed, as if saying it could make it so.

"May--maybe." She knew better, but it struck her oddly detached brain as needlessly cruel to tell him so. "What about--That' "DeadVery he whispered fiercely. "You got "em both, Chiefl." "Ggood." The mist was much thicker, and she was much, much colder. Yet the darkness beyond the mist seemed suddenly warm and inviting. It wouldn't hurt so much there.., but she had something left to say, didn't she? She cudgeled her fading brain, then her bloody mouth smiled up at Chris. Two police floaters screamed to a halt, but she ignored them as she gripped his hand. "C,--give... Lad... my love," she murmured. "And @u.. tell him.., tell him... I got them b--" The light went out of her universe forever.

He had failed. He'd failed his planet and himself, but, far worse, he had failed Fio

Chris Felderman thought the failure was hsts, but Ladislaus knew. The entire surviving Beaufort delegation was in shock, but the others had managed somehow to keep going. Not Ladislaus.

He remembered their childhood on windy, purple seas under the orange Beaufort sun.

Remembered sailing and' fishing, the first time she stood for office as a seaforcer, the day she convinced him to seek the new Assembly seat. "I need someone to watch my back, Lad," she'd said, and for ten years he'd done just that-- until he to et her go out onto a street on the birthworld of Man to be gu

His teeth ground together on the agony of memory, and suddenly a single, dear thought stabbed through his brain like an ice pick.

The Federation wasn't worth Fio

Four and a half centuries of human history had come down to this, he thought bitterly, looking at the ba

His broad face went grim. Fio

The killers had been Fringers, not I

Ladislaus had Dieter's confirmation, though his oath meant he couldn't use it. His fellows didn't need it, for the Fringe knew its enemies well. Yet there was no proof, and. without proof, there was no guilt. Without guilt, there was no punish- ment; and without punishment, the Fringe would shatter in incoherent fury and be swept aside by the Corporate World machine. He saw it coming, and he was glad.

Glad!

He rose and pressed his attention button, and there was a moment of silence as the delegate from Xanadu looked down from the giant screen and reeoguized who sought l[fffulffilllffiilllll! recognition.

"Mister Speaker," the delegate said slowly, "I yield to the Honorable Assemblyman for Beaufort." Ladislaus Skjorning's grim face appeared on the master screen, and the chamber fell silent. In ten years, he had never sought the floor.

"Mister Speaker!" His voice was harsh, with little trace of his habitual accent, and he felt a stir around him as he put aside his mask at last. "I would like clarification on a point of law, Mister Speaker." "Certainly, Mister Skjorning," Haley said, his face compassionate.

"Am I not correct, Mister Speaker?" "Yes... yes, you are. But no formal charges were ever filed--was "Precisely, Mister Speaker." Ladislaus' face was bleak.

"No formal charges were filed--just as no formal charges have been flied over the death--the assassstnatston -comof Fio

"Fio

"But let it pass," he said very softly, his amplified voice echoing in the silence. "We of the Fringe have learned our lessons well. We ca