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‘You filed for death benefits?'

‘Well, they did say your skymine was destroyed. We haven't gotten a single credit, so it hasn't been a picnic here either.'

He blinked at her, feeling a little weak in the knees. ‘You filed for death benefits? Really?'

‘Your cloud harvester was destroyed, and you disappeared. What was I supposed to think - that you had learned how to fly?'

‘I guess I can't argue with that.' Anxious now to be away from the landing field and all the noise, he tried to steer the crowd back toward the pedestrian walks.

One of the grandkids, Jessica, pulled on his sleeve. ‘Did you come home rich? Grandma says you're bringing a treasure chest.'

‘Well, I came home with quite a few Ildiran valuables.'

He grinned, but Lydia's expression darkened. ‘Better hide them before the Hansa confiscates them. They'll come up with a fifty-per-cent import tax or something.'

Putting on an optimistic face, he said, ‘At least I'll have the undying gratitude of the Mage-Imperator - for what it's worth.'

A sharpness came to his wife's eyes. ‘Good. We may all have to move there if things keep going the way they are. You won't believe what the Chairman--'

‘Quiet, Ma,' said the oldest son, Jerome. He looked around anxiously, as if she had said something dangerous, as if electronic ‘- pickups might be listening to every word they spoke.

Sullivan drew back. ‘What's going on?'

‘Nothing, nothing!' Jerome said quickly, patting his mother's arm. ‘You know her. If there isn't something to complain about, then there's no sunshine in her day. Maybe we'll all take a vacation to Ildira. Someday.'

Sullivan made Lydia look at him. ‘What's happened around here? I've been cut off from everything. I've spoken with Roamer traders and former Hansa merchants, and none of them have much good to say about Chairman Wenceslas. Is it true he sent an EDF battle group to try to conquer Theroc and seize the King and Queen? Did he really take over Rhejak?'

‘Let's just say this, Sullivan: You were wise not to cause a hullabaloo when you got home. No interviews, no announcements. It's best you not call attention to yourself. I doubt the Chairman would appreciate it. And it's good that you've carved out some options for us, just in case Earth is no longer a particularly good place to raise a family. You may well have been better off on Ildira.'

Ninety-nine

Chairman Basil Wenceslas

He could use the Klikiss to the Hansa's advantage. Basil decided that was the best way to deal with the situation.

And the Archfather of Unison would be his spokesman.

Not a thread could be loose, not a single wrinkle showing, no speck of makeup in the wrong place. With an eagle eye, Basil watched every step as stylists, groomers, and personality coaches prepared the Archfather for his grand debut.

Basil gazed into the plump old man's sapphire eyes. Those eyes had attracted him to this candidate in the first place. The clear blue was natural, which eliminated the requirement for implants. The Archfather's voice was deep and resonant, his thick snow-white beard flowed from his apple-red cheeks down to a tapered point. Voluminous ceremonial robes hung on his soft shoulders, draped to imply a massive body but hide his girth. His ceremonial crook was imposing, a golden staff encrusted with faceted gems, every one of which had been oiled and polished so that not a smudge would be visible on even the highest resolution observation image.

The Archfather was a reassuring figure, practically a picture of old Saint Nicholas - and not by accident. His attitude was avuncular, non-threatening. Unison had long been a comfortable part of Hansa life, like a kindly old pet dog with no teeth. But that would soon change. The Archfather's speech today would begin an entirely new programme.

A century before, when previous Hansa Chairmen had built the framework of Unison and developed the Archfather as its visible face, they had chosen their symbolic references well. In many respects, the Archfather reminded Basil of Old