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'Yours. But this is not the time or place to try to get even. These dinks'll come down on us like a
ton of bricks. Promise me you won't rock the boat.’

'Maybe.’ Kelso stared moodily out of the window, then shrugged as his anger subsided. 'We'll
see how it goes.’ He watched her cross over to the door. 'Where're you off to?’

'To mend a few bridges.’

'Nehh, screw 'em. I don't need you brown-nosing for me. If you're not prepared to back me up,
just stay out of it. 'Okay?’

Jodi clamped her jaw shut and counted to five before replying. 'You're fucking impossible - you
know that?’

Kelso treated it as a compliment. 'Part of my fatal charm. Nobody ever got to the top by being
Mr Nice Guy.’

'No shit,' said Jodi, mimicking his delivery. 'You must tell me what it's like up there sometime.’

In terms of its physical components - acreage, installations and personnel - the Heron Pool did
not give the impression of being a major enterprise. Despite Cadillac's industry, it was still very much in
the embryonic stage; an experimental project, no more.

This was due, in part, to the caution exercised by Lord Kiyo Min-Orota.

His estimation of Cadillac's potential had not changed in the slightest, but he knew that
developments at the Heron Pool were being closely monitored by the Herald, Hase-Gawa. From the
reported use made of such craft by the long-dogs it was clear that just a few regiments of flying-horses
could dramatically alter the present balance of power - a possibility that could not have escaped the


attention of the Shogun.

The Sons of Ne-Issan did not yet possess the rapid-fire guns and explosive devices that made
the flying-horse such a deadly weapon, but that day would come.

Meanwhile, their speed meant that a strong force of samurai could rapidly reach any part of the
country regardless of the intervening terrain. They would, literally, drop out of the sky like swooping
falcons. The ability to execute such manoeuvres would demand a complete revision of military tactics.

Lord Kiyo Min-Orota was aware of the delicate line he had to tread.

The task of building these craft had been given to his family because they were regarded as fudai
trusted allies of the Shogunate. But success had its dangers. If the Heron Pool expanded too rapidly and
its importance was inflated by loose talk and wild speculation, it might cause the young Shogun to think
twice, and perhaps withdraw the licence in favour of his own family - a situation to be avoided at all
costs. If the Toh-Yota became the sole possessors of such a weapon they would use it to hold their
opponents in check, thus ending all hopes for a new age of progress.

As a key participant in the 'modernist' conspiracy, Min-Orota had therefore been at pains to
create the impression that, whilst he was prepared to back the flying-horse project, it did not have his
unqualified support. To this end he had slowed down the pace of development by trimming back
Cadillac's constant requests for more manpower and resources, and he had let it be known in court
circles that even if a craft capable of sustained powered flight was eventually constructed, he feared that,
in the long term, its impact on Iron Master society would be more adverse than beneficial.

All lies, of course, but it bore the appearance of a face-saving exercise whilst expressing his
support for traditional values. And it also provided him with an escape hatch if Yama-Shita's plan to
recapture the Dark Light backfired - an enterprise which certainly did not have his wholehearted support.

Translated into Basic, the message he was beaming towards the Shogun read thus: 'I'm only
going along with this because you guys twisted my arm.’

It was a neat ploy. The whole deal had, of course, been put together on the back-stairs by
Yama-Shita, but the records would show Kiyo Min-Orota hadn't pitched for the business. It was Ieyasu,
the wily old Court Chamberlain, who had advised the Shogun to grant the manufacturing licence to the
Min-Orota family without going through the usual process of soliciting the highest bid from other
interested parties. All that remained now was to find some way, short of death, to prevent Nakane
Toh-Shiba, the Consul-General, from screwing things up - both literally and figuratively - and everything
would fall into their hands.

Jodi caught up with Simons as he passed through an archway in the back wall of the compound,
opposite the main gate. There were more buildings beyond. Simons paused expectantly.

'Listen,' said Jodi. 'Before this goes any further I just want to say that Dave is okay - y'know
what I mean? I know things got a little out of hand back there, but the truth is, uhh... neither of us
expected to run into Brickman again so soon.’ Jodi shook her head in wonderment. 'I don't know how
the guy does it, but he certainly gets around.’ She fell into step beside Simons.

'Are you sure his name's Steve Brickman?’

'That's what he calls himself. I can't see why he would want to lie about something like that, but


what difference does it make? He's giving the orders and he seems to know what he's doing. It's only you
guys who seem to have a problem.’

Simons led her down an alleyway between two long single-storey structures. The facing walls
had matching sets of sliding doors at regular intervals and they were all wide open, giving Jodi a clear
view of their interiors. They were both large, airy workshops. The one on the left contained stacks of
sawn timber and rows of benches for making sub-components; the one to her right contained several
trestle jigs on which ribs and spars were assembled into wings, while on the others, formers and stringers
were turned into fuselages.

Running down the centre was a primitive production line on which the various pieces were mated
together. In all, Jodi counted a dozen airplanes at various stages of completion. Several Trackers in blue
outfits were putting tools back into racks and tidying up workbenches; others were sweeping the floor.
The job looked as though it demanded skill and intelligence, the whole environment looked clean and
healthy and, above all, the atmosphere appeared relaxed - with not a white-stripe or a whipping-cane in
sight. Jodi could understand why Simons and his co-workers didn't want anyone spoiling things.

But there was something that didn't add up. Simons had been drafted to the Heron Pool in
March and had implied that Brickman had already set up the operation.

But she and Kelso had first run into Brickman when still part of Malone's renegade band back in
the early part of April, and they had last seen him at the end of May, hob-nobbing with their Mute
captors at the trading post.

Jodi was not sure of the exact dates; her standard-issue calendar watch had been ripped from
her wrist when she was washed downstream in the tangled wreckage of her Skyhawk. But a day or two
either way didn't matter, the questions remained: if Brickman was in Plainfolk territory during April and
May, what in Columbus's name was he doing there when he was supposed to be running the Heron Pool

-and how the eff-eff had he gotten back here so fast?

Before she could ask Simons, her attention was drawn to a swept-wing glider taking off from the
big field beyond the workshops. Another, of the same type, was being pushed towards them aboard a
wheeled trolley.

The craft now airborne rose steeply on a line attached under the nose.

The other end ran down to a lump of machinery on the far right-hand corner of the field.

A faint tuff. tuff-tuff reached Jodi's ears.

'Steam-driven winch,' said Simons.

Jodi watched the ascent with interest. She was conversant with the principles of thermals and
soaring flight of which Skyhawks were designed to take advantage, but purpose-built gliders didn't exist
in the Federation. You learned to fly with the aid of a propeller and battery-power from Day One.

When the glider was about a thousand feet up, the pilot released the cable. The falling end was
marked by a fluttering blue pennant. The glider banked gently to the right, nosed down to gather speed,
then went up into a stall turn. It stood on its tail for a brief moment, then cartwheeled over its port wingtip
into another dive and swept back over their heads towards the perimeter of the field.


'Neat,' said Jodi. 'But why gliders?’
'The dinks don't have electricity,' replied Simons.
'They didn't have airplanes before you guys started building them. How come nobody's told them


what they're missing?’

'No need to. The dinks have known about it from way back. They call it the Dark Light and, as
far as they're concerned, it's bad news.

According to Brickman, Iron Masters are forbidden by law to mess around with any kind of
electrical equipment. On top of which, the subject is absolutely taboo.’ He shrugged. 'I know. It sounds

crazy, but there it is.’

Jodi looked up at the glider. 'May be a good thing in the long run.

These things aren't going to be much of a threat to anybody.’

'Don't be too sure. Brickman's working on the power problem. He's developing a lightweight

steam engine.’

'Steam engine... ?’ The idea made Jodi laugh.

'Don't knock it. We're running bench tests right now.

Just having problems developing enough power.’

'What are you using for fuel?’

'Oil. But we're trying to find something that burns faster and generates more heat.’

Jodi sniffed dismissively. 'It'll never get off the ground.’

'It hasn't so far,' admitted Simons. 'But we're working on it.’

The six Trackers wheeling the grounded glider back to the right-hand workshop passed by close
to where they were standing. While Simons asked them how the test flight had gone, Jodi cast a
professional eye over their handiwork.

The silk-covered wings were not swept back as far as the Skyhawk's and were of rigid
construction instead of being inflated to the correct shape by helium gas. The slim fuselage pod, lacking
the rear-mounted engine and pusher-prop of the original, was attached directly to the underside of the
wing, with the cockpit just ahead of the leading edge.

The Skyhawk was a pure-delta wing design, with no tailplane or rudder; Brickman's craft had a
boom running back from the centre section with a cruciform tail assembly mounted on the end. That was
not the only departure from the original; on the Skyhawk, banking to left and right was affected by means
of control wires that warped the outer trailing edge of the wings. On Brickman's glider, there were inset
panels that pivoted up and down: ailerons - as used on the two-seat Skyrider and the Mark-2 Skyhawk.

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