With the Grand Patriarch due to arrive on Poritrin at any moment, Lord Bludd had staged yet another lavish festival, so that the population could keep celebrating their victory over the thinking machines. Stands were erected around the edges of the riverside amphitheater, colorful banners were hung, and feasts were prepared, all to welcome Iblis Ginjo.

Amid such chaos, Aurelius Venport decided he would be able to sneak the outdated cargo ship unnoticed to the new laboratory.

Tuk Keedair had gone to Rossak to fetch the vessel from its spacedock and had arrived back in the Poritrin system at just the right moment, as he intended. With the Grand Patriarch’s pageant preoccupying everyone, Venport was sure they could bring the big vessel down to Norma Cenva’s new laboratory complex without drawing any undue attention. He wanted to keep a low profile on this project.

He had no real interest in noisy revelry tonight anyway. The profits from Holtzman’s work— rightfully, Norma’s work— had flooded Poritrin with more wealth than the most extravagant person could squander in a dozen lifetimes. Venport was confident that Norma’s new space-folding project would make more money than anyone could possibly imagine.

Though the big hangar of the new research facility was not yet complete, Norma lived at the distant work site. Her first priority had been to convert the office space inside the old mining operations headquarters so that she could continue to study and modify her calculations. While construction supervisors roamed the fenced-in area and gave orders to labor crews for the necessary renovations, Norma had immediately dived back into her scientific designs.

Thinking of her utter devotion, Venport smiled wistfully. Unlike most people, who drifted through life seeking success or just a comfortable existence, dear Norma had no doubts about her mission. Her concentration was unerring and her focus sharp.

Without disturbing the genius, Venport made it his job to take care of all other details, shuttling back and forth to Starda to arrange for supplies and equipment, furniture, and temporary work crews. To add another layer of security for the project, Venport had decided that the slaves building the hangar and restoring the decommissioned mining facilities would not remain there long enough to see what Norma actually intended to do.

For the time being, Lord Bludd was smugly delighted, thinking he had negotiated an easy financial victory over Venport. Sensing this shortsighted pride, Venport pressed his advantage by placing a direct request with Bludd to have temporary use of some dedicated slaves, and agreeing to pay a premium for well-trained and docile workers. No doubt the Poritrin nobleman had charged him more than the captive Buddislamics were worth, but Venport didn’t have time to dicker and retrain an entire labor force. He was due to depart for Arrakis soon, to try his hand at quashing the band of wily outlaws that preyed upon Naib Dhartha’s spice-harvesting operations.

For the time being, his business partner Tuk Keedair would remain on Poritrin with Norma. A strict taskmaster, he would make certain the slaves behaved for her, so Norma could accomplish her goals on time. As usual, she had reservations about using slave crews, but under the circumstances Venport had no other choice. Buddislamics were the only available workforce on Poritrin.

In late afternoon Venport returned to the isolated worksite, docking his shuttleboat in the narrow canyon when the water became too shallow to navigate. Norma’s new laboratory and hangar filled an immense chamber that had once been behind a waterfall, but that cascade of water, like the subsidiary river that fed it, was long gone, having been diverted centuries ago by Lord Frigo Bludd’s resource reclamation projects for Starda’s agricultural needs. The roof of the grotto was open to the sky, though covered by a large warehouse hangar under construction on top of the plateau.

A smooth passenger lift had been installed on the cliffside, and Venport rode it to the top of the canyon. Surrounded by blockish support buildings, the converted-warehouse hangar gleamed in the late-afternoon light. Its cantilevered roof had been rolled out of the way to the sides, so that the large building was ready to receive the expected prototype vessel.

Venport nodded with satisfaction at the progress the workers had made; he hoped he could verify that the facilities were ready for operation before he left for Arrakis. Striding through the gate past three local guards he had hired, he found the work supervisor and asked for a progress report. Around the warehouse and outbuildings, slaves were taking a brief late-day break to eat, rest, and pray. Afterward, they would be back on the project until late night.

Norma emerged from her enclosed calculation offices and blinked in the waning light, surprised that a whole day had passed. Venport came forward, grinning; out of habit, he gave her a warm embrace. Her hair looked shaggy and uncared for, but the mere fact that she didn’t put on airs or pretend to be beautiful made her seem more attractive to him.

“Is my ship coming in this afternoon, Aurelius? Is it the right day, or did I lose one on my calendar?”

“It arrives in less than an hour, Norma.” He gestured toward the open rooftop. “The hangar seems to be ready.”

Her face grew eager. “Then I can commence the actual test phase of my project?”

He nodded, letting his hand linger on her diminutive shoulder. His heart warmed when she smiled at him. “Lord Bludd has promised me he’ll reassign a qualified team of slaves from the fabricators and constructors of the recent spaceship fleet. They have experience in this sort of work, so I hope they’ll require little training.”

“OK, because I won’t have the time or the attention to spend all day directing them. They will have to work independently—”

“Tuk Keedair will stay here to take care of all that,” Venport assured her. “He’s also bringing in a large force of mercenary security guards whose loyalty is to VenKee Enterprises, not to Poritrin. They’ll keep watch over the facilities and make certain the slaves don’t try to commit any sabotage.” He glanced back downriver. “They’ll also keep Lord Bludd and Tio Holtzman from snooping around.”

“I never worried about so much security before.”

“Holtzman did. He always had Dragoon guards in his laboratories.”

“For years, Savant Holtzman has paid little attention to me, Aurelius. Why should he bother me now?”

“Because if he has even a fraction of the genius that’s attributed to him, he can’t remain duped forever, and he’ll realize what a wonder he lost by letting you go.”

Embarrassed at the compliment, Norma glanced around the construction site, as if she didn’t remember several of the buildings being there the last time she’d noticed the details. “But where will you be?”

Venport sighed, realizing that she had not been paying attention. “I told you already, Norma. I’m off to Arrakis to take care of some problems in our spice operations. Keedair will have the easier and far more pleasant task of remaining here with you.”

Norma frowned. Though she was well into middle age, her expression reminded him of the little girl on Rossak he had adored so much. “I wish you could stay with me, Aurelius. I’d much rather have your friendly face around than… a Tlulaxa slaver.”

Venport laughed. “You don’t have to like Keedair, Norma. Just let him do his work.” He sighed. “And, trust me, I’d rather stay as well. But I have too much work to do— and I’m afraid my time here with you would be so enjoyable that I’d be completely distracted from accomplishing anything worthwhile.”

She giggled with girlish joy. Venport caught himself, wondering if he’d actually been flirting with her. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that he had. After so many years of their close friendship, he asked himself why that should surprise him.

The construction manager hurried out of the hangar, looking for Venport. “We just received a signal, Directeur. The vessel has received routine clearance and is on its way down through the atmosphere. Tuk Keedair is at the controls.”

Venport nodded, not surprised that his partner would choose to pilot the craft himself. The flesh peddler had spent years as a merchant, raiding Unallied Planets and capturing Buddislamic slaves. He knew how to handle a simple cargo hauler.

“Look, Norma. There it is.” He pointed to a bright light making its way through the faint colors of dusk.

The image grew brighter, its hull hot from reentry, and Norma heard the sonic booms of its passage. It was a large ship, designed primarily for long-distance space travel and occasional surface landings, although most of the cargo loading was done using transport shuttles.

As a spacecraft, the vessel was comparatively sluggish and inefficient. Now, as Keedair spoke across the narrow-band transmitter, he grumbled about the antiquated ship systems. Obviously, Venport had decommissioned the craft for good reason.

Finally, Keedair brought the large vessel over the open hangar and, with expert maneuvering, lowered it into the empty warehouse. Venport watched, not sure if the beamy craft would even fit through the open rooftop. But the Tlulaxa merchant managed with several meters to spare.

Norma watched the landing with awe, and Venport could imagine the wheels turning in her mind. She had seen blueprints and design studies of the ship, so she already understood the modifications she would have to make. But simply seeing the vessel with her own eyes seemed to ignite her imagination.

“A template for all future interstellar flight,” she said. “What I accomplish here will change everything.”

Venport drew optimism from her. Norma couldn’t tear her gaze from the ship until it had landed inside the hangar and workers rushed forward to install docking anchors and stabilizers.

Norma reached out and squeezed his much larger hand. “I have been looking forward to this for so many years, Aurelius. I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. I still have plenty of work to do, but can finally get started.”

GRAND PATRIARCH IBLIS Ginjo expected his arrival to cause a bit of a stir, and the capital city of Starda staged an appropriately extravagant reception. At any given moment, numerous planets were engaged in the battle against the thinking machines. According to his calendar, the stepped-up Ix campaign should now be in full swing, but Iblis did not want to thrust himself into such overt personal danger. Thus, Poritrin was a good place for him to be, since the robot invaders had already fled.

By fomenting the initial uprising on Earth, Iblis had proved he was no coward, but his vital position as head of the Jihad Council precluded him from taking great risks now. Though his presence on the battlefields would no doubt have boosted the morale of the desperate fighters, the Grand Patriarch didn’t want to chance being seen anywhere but the site of a genuine victory. Such as here.

Accompanied by his loyal but discreet Jipol commandant Yorek Thurr, Iblis disembarked from his ship at Starda Spaceport and strutted forward to meet a small official delegation. Noting that Lord Bludd was himself absent, Iblis muttered a displeased comment just as a youthful Poritrin aide hurried up to him.

“Your timing is excellent, Grand Patriarch. The awards ceremony is only two hours from now, but there is time for our wardrobe engineers to prepare you for your appearance with Lord Bludd.” The young aide wore a black-and-white jerkin and tuxcape, one of the trendy styles on noble worlds.

When a hoverbarge delivered Iblis and his entourage to the amphitheater, he was given a seat on the expansive riverfront platform, but off to one side, just one of seventy politicians and noblemen. As many as four hundred thousand people crowded the grassy fields, gazing up at projection screens and listening through crisp speaker systems that floated on suspensors. Hastily erected shrines to Manion the Innocent stood prominently on blufftops above the river. A new statue had been unveiled, a large and somewhat absurd construct of a cherubic Buddhalike child seated atop a crushed robot.

Lord Niko Bludd had the most prominent seat, skewered by spotlights at the head of walkways that led to the stage. Obviously, the foppish man considered himself the reason for the gathered spectators.

Meanwhile, at center stage, Savant Tio Holtzman was receiving honors before a cheering crowd. The inventor beamed and waved to the blurred mass of faces. Iblis sat wearing a frozen smile.

The Grand Patriarch always had an agenda in mind, an important task to complete. As far as Iblis was concerned, life was brutishly short and too much needed to be done. After taking a deep breath, he decided not to notice the slight that Niko Bludd had given to him. Not yet.

A situation like this, with so many people excited about a convincing military victory, would provide Iblis with his opportunity.