House of Shards by Walter Jon Williams Page A

absolutely right asteroid. Fu George watched Roberta and wondered why she had played tiles with Maijstral.
    “Milords, ladies, gentlemen, I shall digress no longer .
    The pearl. Fu George smiled. His hand strayed to his breast pocket.
    “... may I present the raison d'etre of Silverside Station . . .”
    Fu George’s smile froze on his face. His hand plunged into his pocket. There was nothing there.
    “. . . one of Creation's own wonders . . .”
    Fu George remembered the brush with Maijstral, the man's uncommon civility. Vanessa perceived his agitation. She put a hand on his arm. “What's wrong, Geoff?”
    “Rathbon's Star and its companion!”
    Soundlessly, the steel doors irised open. The room was bathed in the light of one star devouring another.
    There was no applause. The company was too stricken by the awesome sight to make any noise at all.
    Fu George glared across the room at Maijstral. He was sitting next to Advert, and both were smiling as they tilted their heads back to watch Rathbon's Star being eaten.
    Maijstral, Fu George thought. This means war.

CHAPTER 3

    T he ball got under way two hours after dinner. The ballroom had no artificial light: the pulses and flares of Rathbon's Star provided both spectacle and illumination for the vast oval room. Maijstral shared the first dance with her grace the Duchess of Benn. Roberta’s ball gown was blazing orange: eyes fixed on her as if she were a magnet. Baron Silverside and his lady, dancing just up the set, were eclipsed entirely.
    Geoff Fu George, dancing a short distance away with Vanessa, couldn’t keep his eyes off them. By those who make it their business to notice and remark upon such things, Fu George’s intent gaze was noticed and remarked on.
    Paavo Kuusinen had arrived late for the first dance, and so stood on the fringes of the ballroom, tapping his cane to the rhythm of the music, and watched the multitude. Because there was nothing to do, and because (being compulsive) he couldn’t help himself, he glanced upward and numbered the media globes on the scene. There were eight, each controlled by Kyoko Asperson through her loupe.
    At a Diadem event one could normally expect a great many more, but Baron Silverside had been firm in the number of globes he would allow onstation to harass his guests.
    Kuusinen, his compulsion unsated, began to count the number of instruments in the orchestra.
    *
    Mr. Chalice attached the portable power source to his coat and smiled. He donned the coat, turned the collar up, and thought himself invisible.
    He glanced at his reflection in the triple mirror placed in Fu George’s suite and saw in place of himself a distorted smear of color. He knew that smear for himself, that his body was obscured by holographic camouflage tuned to the color scheme of his background.
    Geoff Fu George had known that Silverside was going to feature unprecedented security measures, and even before he'd won his invitations at cards, he prepared for dealing with same. He'd thought his usual trunk of equipment would be confiscated, and he had been right. He and his assistants had solved the problem by having miniaturized versions of their equipment built into their evening clothes.
    The advanced and unobtrusive design was expensive, but then Fu George could afford the best. The proximity wire in the collar enabled the suit to be given mental commands: it was powered by a micro-source available for a modest price in the station's Electronic Boutique and Gadget Faire; and the darksuit could be used as an evening jacket, permitting
    instant changes from social to burgling mode.
    Chalice's jacket was the last readied: he'd prepared Fu George’s first, then Drexler's. All three of them had assignments this evening.
    He grinned. Maijstral wasn’t going to know what hit him.
    *
    Gregor looked up from his watch and glanced carefully into the unique view afforded him by his smoked spectacles. As with Kyoko Asperson's loupe, one lens was arranged to