Cardinal Reswell trundled down the white marble stairs of the colonial ministry building and into the heavy gray downpour. Steeling himself, he started out for the military administration building at a brisk pace. His jowls clamped, elbows pumping a counterpoint to the sodden flapping of his sandals. Tucked inside his vestments was a communique from a small settlement on Vega II, Avon, the locals called it, he remembered. Diocullis was not at his residence, which meant he was already at work in his austere office.

Normally he would just have faxed the missive to Dio and waited for a reply but he had poor Father Abrams waiting in his ship for a response from his office, and had no intention of keeping the fellow at risk one moment longer than necessary.

A brace of color guards, resplendent in their royal blue dress uniforms and red half-cloaks,saluted as the cardinal pushed his way through the double doors.

"Yes, fine, thank you. Please, can one of you fetch Commander Diocullis for me?"

The Cardinal stood in a spreading pool of rainwater as his robes drained themselves onto the hard cold tiles. As one of the guards pivoted to comply, Reswell reflected that this was the third time he had bathed while dressed in the last few days, and it didn't promise to be the last. He had to talk with the building commissioner about the plaza. There must be funds enough somewhere to provide covered walkways or awnings.

Diocullis approached in time to see Cardinal Reswell wringing out his cap, adding to the flood he had already caused in the entrance-way. "Cardinal, how can I help you this fine, damp morning?"

Cardinal Reswell reseated the all but destroyed cap and dug into his vest, pulling out the message from Father Abrams. "Eh, yes. Here. You have been looking for this I think."

Michael began reading the document, and motioned the Cardinal to accompany him back to his office. One of the guards passed the Cardinal a towel and held open an overcoat which the Cardinal gratefully put on, mopping at his face with the towel.

"We can depend on this?" asked Diocullis, pointing to the paper.

"Oh yes, yes indeed. I need to know what to tell Father Abrams. Should I recall him? Is he in any danger?"

Michael nodded gravely, and put a warning hand on the Cardinal's shoulder. "Don't try to recall Abrams; he needs to keep out of sight. Have him hide his lighter as best he can. He mentions this estate, the La Platte estate. Have him make for that if possible and keep his head down. If he tries to flee he will be caught. If I read between the lines of this," said Michael, waving the missive, "it sounds like St. Croix is trying to fortify his position there. It could be a benefit to have an observer as close as possible to St. Croix. Warn him, though - if Gregory gets wind of him, he may try to hunt him down."

"We will have to take Father Abrams into our confidence as much as will help him to stay alive and useful," continued Michael, "and hope he has the wit and luck to stay free of Gregory. See what else he can find out meanwhile."

"I will, and right now, Dio. Thank you." They had reached Michael's office, and before the Cardinal could turn to leave, Dio reached around the office door and procured an umbrella from a brass stand just inside the threshold. "Here, take this. Just don't forget where you got it from, your Holiness."