“It was in 2333. I believe it was a concession made to Europe in return for the E.U. not banning the sale of European-owned land to non-Europeans the way the Mitsubishi ban sale to non-Mitsubishi. I… Is there a problem?”

The word ‘land’ had made Ancelet twitch like a fly’s bite, and I saw him grope instinctively for the controls that would have been beside him had we sat in the dim, screen-lined sanctum of the Censor’s Office back in Romanova. There he, and I, and not-yet-Censor Jung Su-Hyeon, and not-yet-traitor Toshi Mitsubishi could have checked all the land sale numbers, back and back, all the way to the 2330s, where our equations, keener than truffle pigs, would have smelled out the knots of tension metastasizing in the aftermath of the Gordian-Auxilio Hive Merger. But those numbers were Su-Hyeon’s now, not Ancelet’s, that sanctum, too. There is a special cruelty in making the still-living master pass on his instrument when no living student has yet surpassed him.

“Is there a problem?” Prospero repeated.

“Yes, but not a new problem,” the new president answered, with a frankness I did not expect. “Associates and I”—his lips quivered at the ever-fresh memory of Kohaku Mardi’s bloody corpse—“have long predicted that the Mitsubishi landgrab policy would lead to an economic—or more than economic—crisis. It’s… interesting… to see how long ago others predicted the same.”

Prospero studied his new commander slowly, unused to frankness after Ganymede’s golden façade. “The greatest purpose of O.S.,” he answered slowly, “is to prevent large conflicts like the present one. I myself have never been involved with selecting targets or tracking trends, but from Eureka’s comments I believe we have been working to stave this off for a long time.”

Ancelet nodded. “You were. I’ve seen the numbers. You were. You did it well.”

“Thank you, Member President.”

I wondered briefly whether Prospero understood the full depth of the compliment, coming from the one man in the world who could see the impact rippling through the past perhaps better than set-sets could. No matter. His president had praised him. A spearman’s joy as he receives praise from Athena’s lips does not depend on how well he understands the goddess’s mastery of one particular technique.

“I don’t necessarily condone the system,” Ancelet added, “but you did do good with it, a lot of good. Now, this O.S. charter, which I will need to see, does it mention the alliances with the Europeans and Mitsubishi?”

“No.” Prospero’s bonds clanked as he shook his head. “There is no physical record of any kind that can establish European or Mitsubishi involvement.”

“Not even anything suggestive?” Ancelet spoke almost before the last syllable had winged its way from Prospero’s lips. “The policy of not assassinating European and Mitsubishi Hive Members, was that ever written down?”