“I’d feel a lot better if I hadn’t heard so many stories about her ambition,” he sighed.

“Saint-Just has heard them all, too, I assure you,” she said much more grimly. “I haven’t seen her dossier, of course; she’s not my responsibility. But I’ve heard the scuttlebutt among the other commissioners, and there was a lot of nervousness when Pierre picked her to replace Kline.”

“Even after she squashed the Levelers?” He tried to make it a jest, but the joking tone fell flat, and she grimaced.

“Maybe even especially after she squashed the Levelers,” she replied. “She did it too well and displayed too much initiative and raw nerve—and ruthlessness. And picked up too much approval from the Mob. Besides, half of them figure she would have kept right on moving herself if her pinnace hadn’t crashed. I happen to think they’re wrong, and so does Fontein and, I’m pretty sure, Saint-Just himself. I think she recognized that her lack of a power base would have prevented her from supplanting the Committee, and I honestly believe she also would have refused to provoke the kind of anarchy that would have resulted from any failed putsch on her part. But that doesn’t mean anyone else trusts her… or that even I think she might not make a try if she thought she’d managed to build a strong enough support base to have a shot at success.”

“Surely she realizes that, though,” Giscard thought aloud. “She has to be smart enough not to do anything that might seem to play into her opponents’ hands.”

“I’d like to think so, and to give her credit, she has been so far. But she’s got some of the same problems we do, Javier. The better she does her job, and the more successful she becomes, the more dangerous she becomes.”

“Wonderful,” he sighed bitterly. “The goddamned lunatics are running the asylum!”

“They are,” Pritchart agreed unflinchingly. “But there’s nothing we can do about it except survive, and maybe accomplish a little something for the Republic along the way.”

Their eyes met once more, and Giscard smiled crookedly. Like himself, she never spoke of “the People” when they were alone. Their loyalty was to the Republic, or at least to the tattered remnants of the ideal of the Republic, which Rob Pierre had promised to restore. And that, of course, would have been the final proof to StateSec that neither of them could be trusted.

He chuckled at the thought, and she raised an eyebrow again, as if asking him to share the joke. But he only shook his head, then bent to kiss her once more. Her lips warmed under his, clinging with desperate longing, and he felt the urgency rising within him. It had been months since they’d last been alone together, and he pulled back from the kiss, just far enough to look deep into her shining topaz eyes.

“Oh, I think there might be a little something else we might do, as well, Citizen Commissioner,” he murmured, and stood, cradling her in his arms as he crossed to his sleeping cabin’s hatch.