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remaining habitable portions of Earth was modest. In a manner of speaking, Adele thought with a cold smile, Earth's policy had achieved its stated objective.
    The final panels at the tunnel's upper end showed the rebirth of space travel on Cinnabar. To the left, a multistage rocket rose on a plume of chemical flame; to the right, a starship using rediscovered principles spread its sails, slipping from the sidereal universe in a haze of Casimir radiation.
    Adele stepped into daylight again. The church rose before her in polished splendor; if she turned, she would look out over the length of Pentacrest Vale to the notch between Dobbins Hill and the Castle, with the western suburbs of Xenos visible as far as the eye could see.
    A starship was rising from Harbor Three. It was huge, though despite wearing the uniform of the RCN Adele didn't pretend to be able to identify vessels.
    She sighed and walked across the marble pavers to the cantilevered gateway of the Library of Thomas Celsus, which filled both levels of the church's west portico. On the pediment was a statue of the founder—business agent to Speaker Ramsey, the unchallenged ruler of the Republic two centuries in the past—offering a scroll to the People, represented as a woman in flowing robes.
    The Celsus served as the national collection and was the greatest library on Cinnabar. When Adele was nine, her tutor had told her that the Celsus was the foremost repository of knowledge in the human universe. Adele had immediately used the resources of the library to check his statement—and learned there were several collections on the older worlds of the Alliance which could put the Celsus to shame.
    Adele had immediately ordered the man out of her sight with a fury that shocked her parents and frightened him—rightly, because at that age she might well have shot him if he'd attempted to justify his falsehood. He'd lied to her out of patriotism; error has no right to exist!
    The usher inside the bronze doors nodded warmly to Adele. She blinked in surprise. "Fandler, isn't it? Good to see you still here."
    The usher stepped out from his kiosk so that he could bow properly to her. "Good to see you , Ms. Mundy. All of us here at the Celsus were afraid something had happened to you during the late unpleasantness."
    "Nothing worth mentioning, Fandler," Adele said. That was true enough, in absolute terms—what human activity is really worth mentioning?—and true also relative to those whose heads had decorated the Speaker's Rock.
    She strode on through the cool rotunda, her steps echoing. It really was like coming home.
    Banks of data consoles, separated from one another by panels of soundproofing foam for modest privacy, lined the tables of the wings on either side of the rotunda. There were three hundred and twelve consoles; there had been when Adele last entered the Celsus, at any rate, and it all appeared the same. Forty or so were occupied at the moment.
    She walked to the desk across from the entrance, glancing down at the pavement tessellated in bands of soft grays and blues. It hadn't changed since the day Adele Mundy left Cinnabar.
    She herself had changed, though.
    Clerks sat behind the counter, working at consoles of their own. A page sorted volumes from a large table onto a cart, looking up at the sound of Adele's footsteps.
    The official at the desk flanking the passage to the stacks of hard copy within the building was only a few years older than Adele; she'd never met him. His eyes glanced from the naval uniform to her face as she approached, his expression giving nothing away.
    Adele handed him the access chip instead of inserting it into the reader herself. It was the one she'd carried with her to Blythe; she had no idea whether it would still work.
    The official glanced at the number engraved on the flat. His eyebrows raised. He set the chip on his desk and stood.
    "Ms. Adele Mundy?" he said, offering her his right hand. "I'm Lees Klopfer, Third Assistant