Free The City Who Fought by Anne McCaffrey, S. M. Stirling Page A

the notion. "Do go on."
    "We'd start with . . . the name of this opera. Say, 'Rasputin.' Have you heard of him?" The merry tone of her voice was subtly teasing, challenging him.
    "Of course, I have. He's often credited with being the indirect cause of a successful revolution."
    She regarded his column with a wry expression. "You would know about him if he caused a war, wouldn't you?"
    "Do we, or don't we have a truce?"
    "We do," she said, holding up both hands in surrender.
    "Who writes this 'Rasputin' opera?"
    "Oh, Verdi," she said instantly. "Such a grand theme as well as that particular time would appeal to him.
    Don't you think? Now, you tell me who should play the lead."
    Simeon accessed the necessary historical information from his files. "In the available likenesses of him, Rasputin has enormous eyes and a riveting gaze, so we want a singer who's physically powerful and dramatically able to do justice to such a role. How about !Tlac Suc, the Sendee tenor?"
    "Eh . . . he does have a compelling gaze, I grant you, and his eyes are large. But don't you think he has a few too many of them? Besides he's only retired, not dead."
    Simeon flipped back a massive leap in the research file. "Um, Placido Domingo?"
    "I know of him! He lived in a time blessed with great tenors. He's perfect! Tall, lean, big brown eyes and what a voice. Nice choice, Simeon."
    "And he's dead, too."
    "I can see it now," she said, standing suddenly and clutching histrionically at her throat. "They poison him, you see," and then she flung her arms wide, "and he sings! They stab him," she mimed a thrust to the bosom, before flinging her arms wide again, "and he sings! They drown him," she flapped her arms as though splashing frantically, then placed both hands on her heart, "and he sings! They shoot him," she staggered to Simeon's column and leaned her back against it.
    "Channa, he's got to stop singing sometime."
    She raised a finger, "Sotto voce, he sings, 'it is over.' " She slid down the column into a graceful art-deco position, "And he dies." Her head flopped forward and her hands dangled loosely from her wrists.
    The com chimed and the screen cleared, allowing communications specialist Keri Holen an unobstructed view of Channa slumped at the base of Simeon's column. "Oh! What's hap . . . I mean, Ms. Hap!
    Simeon, is she all right?"
    Channa was instantly on her feet, palm up in a calming gesture. "I'm fine," she said, serenely adjusting her tunic blouse. "What is it?"
    "Uh . . . a message from Child Welfare on Central, from a Ms. Dorgan. If it's convenient, she's scheduled a conference call for 1600 today."
    "Perfect," Simeon said, "tell her thank you," and he broke the connection.
    "I thank the powers that be that wasn't Ms. Dorgan herself," Channa said nervously.
    "I like that 'if it's convenient,' " Simeon said, musingly. "Channa, have you ever replied, 'No, it's damned inconvenient?' "
    Channa regarded him with a singularly blank expression. "No, actually I haven't. But then, in my branch of the service, it shouldn't ever be!"

    * * *
Simeon studied Joat nervously, wondering if they should have dressed her differently. All the other children her age wore the same shapeless clothes, disgusting and often raucous color combinations, but not necessarily what the prudent guardian would recommend for this kind of interview. The com chimed.
    Too late, he thought. Channa seemed calm, but then Channa always seemed calm. Odd when she can exude such depths of hostility. . . . Still, she always did them with a controlled and icy demeanor. Yeah, Channa was fine. Joat's hands were clasped in her lap. Poor kid, her knuckles are white. But otherwise she seemed composed. I'm fine, too, he thought. I'm not calm, but I'm fine.
    Ms. Dorgan studied them from the screen, like a teacher assessing a class of delinquents, then smiled, a tight, superior little smile. Her hair was gray, cut short, combed in a simple disciplined style. She wore a severe dark blue suit with a