Fran regain most of her former zip and even gave her an

appetite. Nothing fancy - just a bowl of clear soup and a small dish

of plain boiled rice, but it stayed down. Having exhausted the views

from their shuttered apartments, they stretched out side by side on the

bed and browsed through the briefing documents which listed the

proposals they had come to place before Ieyasu and the Shogun.

The Iron Masters manufactured and used huge quantities of paper for

their written records but it was the first time Steve had held sheets

of paper printed with lines of text in Basic. Apart from the plasfilm

issued to overground units, all data in the Federation was displayed on

video screens, or portable LCDs. These sheets were a rare example of

what was known as 'hard copy', and as far as he knew, documents in this

form were only made available to members of the First Family.

Steve watched Fran scan the text, her grey eyes fastening avidly on

each line. She looked up. 'I can't see them buying this idea of us

loaning them signal units, do you?"

Steve shrugged. 'Depends on how far they're willing to bend the

rules.

Let's face it, privately, Ieyasu has broken every one in the book, but

after ramming their Sacred Edict down everybody's throats for

centuries, even a limited turn-around on the Dark Light might be hard

for the nation at large to swallow."

'It would also cut the ground away from under the Toh-Yota. Isn't the

upholding of the Sacred Edict their main claim to fame?"

'Yeah. That's why they let us blow up the Heron Pool."

'That's what I thought." Fran re-read the proposal.

'This was one of Karlstrom's ideas. But not one of his better ones. I

think we should kill it - okay?"

'You're the boss."

In Steve's eyes, Fran's saving grace was her intelligence.

That, plus the fact she was also physically attractive, made the

relationship bearable. And to be fair, the negative aspects of her

personality had their positive side. She might be mean and

overbearing, but she was also strong and forceful. It was an

interesting combination and not unappealing, because on her better days

she could be good company.

It was in those moments she became almost likeable.

Karlstrom had warned him that an intimate relationship with her was

like riding a greasy pole, but it had been the wrong thing to say.

Steve had always been unable to resist a challenge. Fran could damage

his career prospects but she couldn't hurt him emotionally because,

deep down, she meant absolutely nothing to him. His one real, true and

lasting attachment was to Clearwater. Fran Jefferson was just part of

his survival plan - and there were plenty of worse ways of staying

alive. The difference between the two was that Clearwater, without

saying anything, made him aware of his failings. Fran, on the other

hand, brought out the worst in him and that, perversely, made him feel

better.

Around three o'clock in the afternoon, they heard the clatter of hooves

on cobbles followed by a series of shrill commands then a tumultuous

roar. Fran, who had run to the windows at the sound of the horses,

listened intently then said: 'They've arrived! That shouting at the

end was the troops giving the Shogun a standing ovation."

Steve scrambled to his feet. Fran fisted his chest.

'C'mon. Let's get dressed! Show 'em what we're made of!" The gleam

in her eye told him she was back in the driving seat.

When their guide Fujiwara reappeared with Watanabe and Ichiwara in tow,

he found Steve and Fran dressed in the silver grey uniforms that marked

them out as members of the First Family. The high collared tunic with

its inverted triangular dark blue trim running down from the shoulders

to a point at the waist and with matching rank stripes on the sleeves,

flared grey riding breeches, supple mid-grey leather jackboots rising

high on the calf, dark blue cavalry caps and silver topped canes.