“Three hours’ notice,” Kennon said. “That’s almost too fast.” “You had nothing to keep you in the city, and neither did I--at least nothing important. There are plenty of females where we are going and I need you on Flora--not in Albertsville. Besides I can get you there faster than if you waited for a company transport.” “Judging from those empty sea lanes below, Flora must be an out-of-the-way place,” Kennon said. “It is. It’s out of the trade lanes. Most of the commercial traffic is in the southern hemisphere. The northern hemisphere is practically all water. Except for Flora and the Otpens there isn’t a land area for nearly three thousand kilometers in any direction, and since the company owns Flora and the surrounding island groups there’s no reason for shipping to come there. We have our own supply vessels, a Discovery Charter, and a desire for privacy.--Ah! It won’t be long now. There’s the Otpens!” Alexander pointed at a smudge on the horizon that quickly resolved into an irregular chain of tiny islets that slipped below them. Kennon got a glimpse of gray concrete on one of the larger islands, a smudge of green trees, and white beaches against which the yellow waters dashed in smothers of foam. “Rugged-looking place,” he murmured. “Most of them are deserted. Two support search and warning stations and automatic interceptors to protect our property. Look!--there’s Flora.” Alexander gestured at the land mass that appeared below. Flora was a great green oval two hundred kilometers long and about a hundred wide. “Pretty, isn’t it?” Alexander said as they sped over the low range of hills and the single gaunt volcano filling the eastward end of the island and swept over a broad green valley dotted with fields and orchards interspersed at intervals by red-roofed structures whose purpose was obvious. “Our farms,” Alexander said redundantly. The airboat crossed a fair-sized river. “That’s the Styx,” Alexander said. “Grandfather named it. He was a classicist in his way--spent a lot of his time reading books most people never heard of. Things like the Iliad and Gone with the Wind. The mountains he called the Apennines, and that volcano’s Mount Olympus. The marshland to the north is called the Pontine Marshes--our main road is the Camino Real.” Alexander grinned. “There’s a lot of Earth on Flora. You’ll find it in every name. Grandfather was an Earthman and he used to get nostalgic for the homeworld. Well--there’s Alexandria coming up. We’ve just about reached the end of the line.” Kennon stared down at the huge gray-green citadel resting on a small hill in the center of an open plain. It was a Class II Fortalice built on the efficient star-shaped plan of half a millennium ago--an ugly spiky pile of durilium, squat and massive with defensive shields and weapons which could still withstand hours of assault by the most modern forces. “Why did he build a thing like that?” Kennon asked.