CLARION 47

Dorland had information that could make a difference in the struggle with the Alliance. The Fringe Alliance was a group of ninety planets along a strip of the stream that reached from the far side of the Omega cluster to the inner loop of the Kiros Spiral. The Alliance had started back when that part of the stream was on the fringe of colonized space. Humankind had long since spread beyond that area, but the Alliance had held together. Now it controlled an area of the stream that was heavily traveled, and when Maiar had begun charging high navigation fees for the use of the Fringe breakout zones—fees for the use of navigation equipment that had been confiscated from UNSA facilities in the Fringe—that was the last straw. UNSA demanded concessions. The Alliance refused, and began building a fleet of warships. By the time the UNSA triumvirate had gotten past the knee-jerk reaction and realized they had underestimated the determination of Hans Maiar and his Alliance command, it was too late. The Alliance had put together several dozen of the planet-buster kiester warheads and was already testing its strength. Maiar began visiting planets in adjoining sectors and politely inviting them to drop their UNSA affiliation and join the Alliance. Those that declined were made to regret it.

It was all stupidity, Paul thought as he turned down the corridor to Dorland's room. The same kind of apelike territorialism that had killed untold millions down through mankind's bloody history. How much farther could we have progressed by now if we had only been able to get along with one another?

War between UNSA and the Alliance would

mean slaughter on a planetary scale. Everyone agreed about that, but nobody had come up with a way to cool the tension that hung between the two 48 William Greenleaf

massive powers. Now, if what Frakes had told him was true, that tension had centered on a planet that had been isolated for the past two centuries. And for reasons that were still not clear to Paul, Dorland Avery was also part of that focus.

Steph Hendrikson waited outside the door to Doriand's suite. Inside, Dorland sat on the low sofa in the front room, his back unnaturally straight, arms at his sides. He looked up when Paul walked in and without any preamble said: "I'll have to go back with Selmer Ogram to Clarion. Sabastian needs me."

Paul resisted the impulse to react immediately and instead crossed the room to thejo dispenser in the comer. He took his time pouring himself a cup. With Dorland you had to take careful steps and test the situation before acting.

When he turned back, Doriand's eyes were on him.

"What about the tour?" Paul asked. "You said it yourself: you have five more shows to do."

"We'll have to cancel them."

Paul sipped hot jo. "Who's Sabastian?"

"My uncle."

Another surprise. "So you really are from this place. Clarion?"

"I was born there, and lived there until six years ago. Then I ... had to leave."

"You told me you came from Giant Forest."

"I lived on Giant Forest for a year before I met you."

Dorland had never offered much detail about his past, and Paul hadn't pressed him. After Doriand's fame as a psi-player had spread along the stream, news service reporters had tried to dredge up information about him with no better luck. One had even tried to bribe Paul for information about Doriand's past.