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trees, and he could hear the dull rumble of incoming tides. He was no longer in North Dakota.
    They circled behind the structure, walked through a brief patch of forest, and emerged on a beach. An ocean glittered beneath the Horsehead. This, he thought, would have been an ideal location for the reservation.
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    P RESIDENT M ATTHEW R. Taylor understood that whatever else he might accomplish during his years in the White House, whatever bridges he might build, whatever boost he might provide the economy, he would always be remembered for what had happened on Johnson’s Ridge. It hadbeen an impossible situation. No way to get it right, and in the end he was the guy who had taken the country back to the Indian wars and gotten Walter Asquith killed.
    The incident had left him shaken.
    The United Nations was voting at that moment on a motion demanding that the United States declare Johnson’s Ridge an international facility. There was no question how that would go. People around the globe were arguing that the Roundhouse belonged to the human race, not to any one nation, and certainly not to those who happened to own the property on which it had been discovered.
    Taylor was short and heavyset. He was not as good at hiding his feelings as were most politicians. On that morning, he watched TV images of the scientists talking with the media as they came back in from Eden, going on about the incredible technology and how they now knew where the planet was, and he found himself wishing the whole system would break down. There were too many conflicting issues. If they were able to reproduce the Roundhouse technology, which centered not only on instantaneous, long-range transportation, but also solar-powered energy production, what would it do to the transportation industries, to the car manufacturers, to the oil companies? It would probably wreck the economy. And there were all kinds of other hazards. They might bring a deadly virus back from Eden. Or even an army of invaders.
    On the other hand, scientists around the globe were demanding access to whatever worlds were available. And some corporations wanted access to the technology. Handled properly, it could provide an enormous boost to a world with serious energy and population problems.
    So what was the proper course of action?
    It hadn’t been an easy time for Harry Eaton either. The chief of staff was the guy who’d led the charge against all suggestions that they try to buy off the Sioux. It would cost too much politically, he’d told the president. The Indians had shown no inclination whatever to cooperate, and Eaton had argued that the administration had to be tough with them.Show no weakness. Taylor had made a last-minute effort to persuade Walker, the Sioux chairman, to cut a deal. But Walker had backed off, and after that he’d seen no alternative to the use of force.
    Eaton had been certain that the Indians would give way at the first sign of armed marshals. And Taylor had bought in. How could he have been so dumb? His buzzer sounded, and Alice informed him that Eaton had arrived. That would probably be with the results of the U.N. vote.
    Eaton was African-American, about average size, with an easygoing, if occasionally stubborn, demeanor. He didn’t always have the politics right, but he was a genius at handling the media, and he usually got hold of the appropriate course of action. He came in holding an envelope. Even had Taylor not known how the vote would go, his chief of staff’s expression made it clear. “It passed,” he said.
    The president exhaled. “Doesn’t matter. We don’t have the authority to take the land. And the U.N. can complain all they want, but they’re in no position to take any action either.”
    â€œNevertheless, it’s a disaster, Mr. President. If we act on the motion, we can expect another armed confrontation. If we don’t, if we exercise