"Now my hope springs up renewed," he said. "With a brother at my side, we will prevail." I thought about it. The Imperium had given me full powers. I might as well use them. "I think I can assure you," I said, "that the worst is over. My government has resources; you may ask for whatever you need--men, supplies, equipment. We ask only one thing of you--friendship and justice between us." He leaned back, closed his eyes. "The long night is over," he said. There were still major points to be covered, but I felt sure that Bayard had been grossly misrepresented to me, and to the Imperial government. I wondered how Imperial Intelligence had been so completely taken in and why. Bale had spoken of having a team of his best men here, sending a stream of data back to him. There was also the problem of my transportation back to the Zero Zero world of the Imperium. Bayard hadn't mentioned the MC shuttles. In fact, thinking over what he had said, he talked as though they didn't exist. Perhaps he was holding out on me, in spite of his apparent candor. Bayard opened his eyes. "There has been enough of gravity for now," he said. "I think that a little rejoicing between us would be appropriate. I wonder if you share my liking for an impromptu feast on such an occasion?" "I love to eat in the middle of the night," I said, "especially when I've missed my dinner." "You are a true Bayard," he said. He reached to the table beside me and pressed a button. He leaned back and placed his finger tips together. "And so now we must think about the menu." He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. "Tonight, permit me to select the menu," he said. "We will see if our tastes are as similar as ourselves." "Fine," I said. There was a tap at the door. At Brion's call, it opened and a sour-faced fiftyish little man came in. He saw me, started; then his face blanked. He crossed to the dictator's chair, drew himself up, and said, "I came as quick as I could, Major." "Fine, fine, Luc," he said. "At ease. My brother and I are hungry. We have a very special hunger, and I want you, Luc, to see to it that our dinner does the kitchen credit." Luc glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I see the gentleman resembles the Major somewhat," he said. "An amazing likeness. Now--" he stared at the ceiling. "We will begin with a very dry Madeira, I think; Sercial, the 1875. Then we will whet our appetites with _Les Huitres de Whitstable_, with a white Burgundy; Chablis Vaudesir. I think there is still a bit of the '29." I leaned forward. This sounded like something special indeed. I had eaten oysters Whitstable before, but the wines were vintages of which I had only heard. "The soup, _Consomme Double aux Cepes_; then _Le Supreme de Brochet au Beurre Blanc_, and for our first red Burgundy, Romanee-Conti, 1904." Brion ran through the remainder of a sumptuous menu. Luc went away quietly. If he could carry that in his head, he was the kind of waiter I'd always wanted to find.