Harvest of Stars by Poul Anderson

was that he, hooked into a net, could steer Fireball, or a cut-off section of Fireball, through a crisis better than any junta of humans or any purely artificial intelligence. The power sprang from more than experience, knowledge, innate generalship. It was authority. Divine right, almost; something that could call on men to die, and be heeded, because it spoke for that which gave meaning to their lives. He was the founder, the master, the presence. He was Fireball.
    But leaders could fail and their causes perish.
    Kyra heard a sigh. Wryness recognized that Guthrie had shaped it without lungs, as he shaped every word he uttered. “When the troops occupied that building, I was caught flat-footed,” he said. “Suddenly there was no way to reach my double, let alone brief him. The best thing I could think of to do was have myself sneaked to Earth and into the Union.”
    A bold move, Kyra thought, but it had worked well until now. Instead of being paralyzed, dependent on communication with a center which the Sepo now oversaw, the company’s North American subdivisions acted shrewdly, on their own, in the Fireball tradition. Their directorsprotested and negotiated. Meanwhile a shipment of isotopically pure titanium ordered by a government plant in the Union somehow went to Québec, which somehow chose to keep this treasure despite the indignation of its powerful neighbor. Meanwhile the company’s Southwestern energy receiver central regretted that for technical reasons it could no longer feed surplus megawatts into the national grid. Meanwhile guardsats reported mysterious small objects arcing over the ocean between California and Hawaii, and a Guatemalan delegate to the World Federation Assembly called for the Peace Authority to investigate what might be a North American violation—
    “I hoped we could force a settlement that’d give us back our status and leave the Synod weakened,” Guthrie continued. “Again I’ve been surprised. The big crackdown’s begun, and we three are on the lam.” (Kyra guessed that that meant they’d perforce gone hyperbolic.) “Why? Are they so hard up they’ll court a retaliation that could ruin them? None of the intelligence I’ve collected suggests that. They’re in a bad enough way that they’re willing to take risks, but they aren’t kamikaze yet. They must think they have a pretty fair chance of coming out ahead of the game.
    “How? Each minute of the past few hours, I’ve gotten more convinced that they’ve clapped hands on my other self.”
    Concentrating on the background of events, Kyra had not seen what that implied. Awareness came like a blow to the belly.
    “But they didn’t know where he was,” Lee protested, as if trying to fend off the fact.
    “Somehow the Sepo learned,” Guthrie replied. “With hindsight, I can make a guess. Three persons besides me knew. I won’t name names, even to you, but they were close associates of mine. Two still are, off Earth. One, a North American, was visiting here several months ago when he was killed in an accident. Or so the world was informed, in the usual way, with the usual material, including the body. I was sorry, but I’ve said goodbye to many friends. … Now I recall how such things can befaked, if you have very good technicians and a very well-organized operation. Including a synthesized corpse. It wouldn’t need to pass close inspection, only to fool his relatives. It was cremated according to his wishes.
    “I suspect he was kidnapped and deep-quizzed. Probably with no specific object in mind, just to get a lead on anything that might be helpful against us. Sayre is capable of arranging any outrage. He’s also a bright son of a bitch, who must know that if his government doesn’t soon do something drastic, it’s doomed. If I’m right, he learned about my twin.”
    “What really became of your friend?” Lee asked low.
    “Dead, after they finished with him,” Guthrie answered flatly. “I hope. For his