SF Books by B. V. Larson:

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Rebel Fleet

Orion Fleet

Alpha Fleet

Earth Fleet

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Swarm

Extinction

Rebellion

Conquest

Army of One (Novella)

Battle Station

Empire

Annihilation

Storm Assault

The Dead Sun

Outcast

Exile

Demon Star

Starship Pandora (Audio Drama)

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Star Runner

Fire Fight

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GREEN WORLD

(Undying Mercenaries Series #15)

by

B. V. Larson

The Undying Mercenaries Series:

Steel World

Dust World

Tech World

Machine World

Death World

Home World

Rogue World

Blood World

Dark World

Storm World

Armor World

Clone World

Glass World

Edge World

Green World

Illustration © Tom Edwards TomEdwardsDesign.com

Copyright © 2021 by Iron Tower Press, Inc.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

“Never was there a government that was not composed of liars, malefactors and thieves.”

—Cicero, 66 BC

-1-

After our Edge World campaign ended, I hung around Central for a solid month. This time was mostly spent with Helsa, a lady-friend I’d met out at 91 Aquarii. She and her mom ruled the most advanced people from her unlucky planet, and they’d been given the incredible job of moving their entire population to Earth.

If that sounds like a tall order, it surely was. Thousands of refugees with all their pets, aunties and family portraits were transported via several sets of gateway posts to the western deserts—areas we used to call Nevada, Arizona and New Mexico. Nowadays, people just called the region “The Desert” without making it more complicated than that.

Now, before you go and start cussing at our government for ditching these sad-sacks in a godforsaken wasteland, be advised that the not-so-good people of 91 Aquarii liked that kind of land. After all, they came from a world with a slowly creeping sun that never let anything as grandiose as a tree grow. To them, a lot of spiny shrubs and sand seemed positively homey.

After about a month, which I have to confess was a pretty fun time for old McGill, the semi-wild girl Helsa got bored. Or maybe she succumbed to the call of her people. It could have been either, but regardless, I awoke one morning to find she’d cleared out. She’d left the east coast and moved out to the deserts to sit in a tent with her own kind.

On that fateful morning, I noticed she was gone and shrugged. I climbed out of bed and took a shower. Was I all broken-up about it? No, not really. After all, I hadn’t figured I’d found the one and only true love of my overly-long lifetime.

“She ditched you, huh?” Galina asked a few hours later.

She was a voice and a face on my tapper, but I was only half paying attention. I was deep into a four-egg breakfast with a double-helping of bacon, and I wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone. I had half a mind to tap out of the call, and I would have, if she hadn’t been my C.O. and long term lover of the last decade or so.

“I guess so,” I said, talking around a mouthful of hash browns.

“Can you stop eating long enough to talk to me?”

“But I’m hungry, and these hash browns are at their very best right now. They’re all crispy. If I don’t eat them straight away, they’ll get soggy with grease.”

She folded up her lips and sighed. “I don’t see why I bother to check up on you. You can follow that whore out into the desert for all I care. I—”

“Hey, hey, relax. I knew she would leave sooner or later. Her people are nomads. After three weeks, she started getting kind of itchy. I could tell she wanted to move on. So… you can forget about Helsa.”

Galina was quiet for a moment, then she sighed. “All right, fine…”

“Is that the only reason you called?”

She didn’t answer right away, and so I let the question linger. It gave me the perfect opportunity to catch up on my hash browns. They were already starting to wilt a bit, and I didn’t want to have to resort to the microwave to spruce them up. That sort of thing might ruin the whole flavor.

“You realize that we haven’t found a new home planet for your lady-love, don’t you?” Galina said.

“Uh… I guess so. But I haven’t kept up with the briefings lately…”

“You never read the frigging briefings. All right, I’ll come right out and tell you: we’re considering putting them on L-374.”

“Huh? Oh… that place? Death World, wasn’t that what everyone called it?”

“An unfortunate nickname,” she snapped. “Don’t use it around Helsa or her mother.”

“Okay,” I said, figuring I was unlikely to meet up with either of the women anytime soon. “But… Death World? Really? They might just prefer to camp in our deserts…”

“Well, they can’t do that. That’s government land, you know. All of it.”

“What the hell does the government need all that empty land for anyway? They’ve kept it off-limits for centuries. Why don’t they just sell it off, pay down some debts and call it even?”

“That sort of thing isn’t for us to decide, McGill.”

I shrugged and moved on to my eggs. I liked to dig into the eggs last. The bacon had gone first, then the hash browns, now for the eggs.

“…McGill? Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I am. Uh… what was that last thing again?”

Galina glared at me for a few moments. “I’ve got a new duty for you.”

“Really? I thought you were telling me something about getting out to training grounds and rounding up my unit.”

“So you did hear some of it, huh?” she asked. “Good, but not good enough. I’ve been given an unpleasant duty here at Central. I’ve been asked to help with local investigations.”

I blinked twice, then I hooted and pointed my finger at my tapper. “That’s a hog’s job! You’re on somebody’s shit-list, aren’t you?”

“Shut up. As I’ve got a new duty, you’re going to help me. There’s an investigative task topping the charts right here in the northeast.”

“What? I was planning on heading back to Georgia and—”

“Then you should have spent less time screwing that cat-woman of yours and enjoyed your vacation while you had the chance.”

I was catching on at last. Galina was “jobbing” me. That was a frequently-used and nearly foolproof way to keep a man like myself out of trouble.

She’d done this sort of thing before, having planted my sorry ass in the Mustering Hall some years ago to recruit unfortunates for the legion’s grinders.

I groaned a bit, and I knew right off that was a mistake. Galina’s face lit up, showing me she was happy to sense my pain. There were few things in this universe I hated more than make-work—and she knew it.

“What did you have in mind, sir? Another stint at the Mustering Hall?”

“Nothing so grandiose. I’m going to make you a field investigator.”

“A what?”’

“An investigator. An inspector. A man who figures out why vital supplies aren’t getting to where they’re supposed to go in this town.”

“Ah jeez. Are you serious? That’s no job for a fighting man. Call one of your hog-buddies. They’d probably bust themselves to get away from a desk for ten minutes.”

Galina frowned for a moment. “I would do that, honestly—in fact it’s been done several times already. But every team of investigators we’ve assigned has vanished.”

“How’s that?”

She shrugged. “No one knows. Here’s what you do have to know: we’ve been running a lot of supplies through Central lately. Most of that has to do with the migration of millions of Shadowlanders from Edge World. But somewhere, somehow, a fairly large amount of these materials have been vanishing with regularity.”

“Vanishing how? To where?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care, either. I just want it to stop. Head down to the docks and figure it out.”

“When do I start?”

“Get to the docks and find someone named Dross. That’s the only name I know.”

“Uh… I didn’t ask who I should look for. I asked when I should start.”

Galina snorted. “You started yesterday, officially. Get moving.”

“Outstanding…” I said.

She closed the connection, and I scooped up the last of my fourth egg. Then I got to my feet and stretched. Yawning and grunting a bit, I moved to my closet. I’d been staying at a mid-range hotel in Central lately, and I had a full kit stashed here for emergencies.

After a few minutes of pawing at my clothes, I strapped on a gun belt. Next, my legion Varus cap went on my head at a precise angle. I was just taking a glance in the bathroom mirror and brushing my teeth when my tapper lit up again.

It was Galina, doing a repeat performance. She didn’t even give me the chance to swipe away her call. As my C. O. during regular hours, she had the right to contact me without my permission. There had been a court case arguing over this point recently—but the good guys had lost.

“James? Why are you still loafing around in that hotel room?”

“I’m just leaving, sir.”

Her quick eyes scanned my oversized person in the mirror I was standing in front of. She hissed when she spotted the gun at my hip.

“Did I say you could take a weapon into the city with you?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“Well, I’m saying it now. No outward displays of force. Investigate without threatening people—and take that cap off as well. Don’t wear any insignia. You’re going as a private citizen, not an official legionnaire.”

I rolled my eyes. If she wanted the velvet-glove treatment, she’d called the wrong man. “All right, sir. Good-bye now.”

I tapped her off the screen and waited a few seconds to see if she’d angrily call me back. She didn’t—at least not right off, so I paused to consider my options.

That gun on my hip felt right somehow. I didn’t want to part with it. I still had my combat knife, of course, but that didn’t compare to a service beamer. Hell, if I had my druthers I’d sling a full-blown morph-rifle over my shoulder.

Thinking about it for another moment, I moved to my wardrobe again and dug out a long winter coat. Sure, it was March and the coat was overkill, but who was going to bug me about it?

It took a bit of work, but I managed to tape my pistol into a slit I cut into the inner lining. Then, on second thought, I found a nasty little needler and put it into my outer pocket as well. After all, Galina had said something about people vanishing.

Did that mean people had been permed? I didn’t know, but I was certain I didn’t want to find out while I was walking the docks unarmed and helpless.

-2-

Call it pride, but I didn’t bother to call anyone. Sure, there were several of the best fighting men in Legion Varus within an hour’s run of Central. For me, they’d probably drop whatever boring stuff they were up to and come along for the ride. The whole thing had the air of mystery about it.

Just one call, maybe three, and I knew I’d have had a team to back me up—but I still didn’t do it. As things turned out, I would later reflect upon that fateful decision. Was I too cocky? Or just plain dumb? It was probably both, I supposed. Especially that last one.

Anyway, I stepped out of an autocab and touched my tapper to the door handle. It drained my accounts of about two hundred credits, and the car whizzed off back to town.

Walking the barren, stained streets I wondered at the sidewalk itself. It was a survivor, that was for sure. A few wars had swept over this place, leaving soot-stains and ragged glossy patches where the old puff-crete had melted a bit. That must have happened when the Skay ship came and bombed us during the Armor World campaign.

“Hey, freak!”

I glanced up. There was a man shouting at me, and he was huddled on the top of a barrel. He wore a jacket with his hands rammed into the pockets. A hoodie covered most of his face, but his nose and scruffy mouth were poking out.

The man wasn’t all that big, so I was kind of surprised he had the balls to address me in such an unpleasant fashion. After all, I had to be a foot taller than he was.

Forcing a friendly smile, I turned toward him. He watched me take a few steps toward him, then suddenly he let his cool-guy façade fade away. He jumped off the barrel and ran.

“Freak!” he shouted over his shoulder. “There’s nothing for you here!”

I considered chasing after him, but I soon thought the better of it. After all, he seemed harmless enough. Maybe he was just a homeless loon. That kind was common enough down around the docks.

Trudging along, I walked closer to the big warehouses. Each one perched on a creaking pier, and together they formed a long row of buildings. The warehouses themselves were a random mix of the old and the new. When the Skay had bombed us, they’d cleaned out half of them at least. You could still see the edge of the devastation down here, and when I passed over that line, there was no more new construction—just dirty pavement and cracked glass.

I came to an open area where the harbor filled my view. The railing had been painted once, but the paint had been worn down to the shiny metal. I put my big hands on the seagull-crap encrusted steel and gazed out at the ships.

Long ago, they’d started building big ships. Supertankers, ocean liners and battleships—stuff like that. But these monsters were something else again.

They were like leviathans from legends past. The very largest was over two kilometers long. They were tall, too. Many swayed gently, their superstructures reaching to a height of twenty stories—sometimes more.

I whistled at the sight, long and low.

“They’re miraculous, aren’t they?” asked a feminine voice to my side.

I’d been unaware anyone was nearby. Oh sure, there were workers in the warehouses. The places were noisy with four-armed haulers tramping around and crowds of bustling men in coveralls. But here at the seagull-poop covered railing, I’d thought I was all alone.

My instinct, as a Varus man, was to whirl around and crouch. If the speaker had been too close and looked threatening, she might have found herself swimming in the oily waters that were just a few meters below.

But I controlled all that. I just slipped my hands into my pockets—gripping my needler—and gave her a friendly nod.

“Miraculous? Yes, Miss. They surely are.”

The woman looked past me toward the towering ships. She walked calmly up to the rail and kept gazing out to sea. She didn’t even let her eyes land on me.

“You know what they’re made of?” she asked. “Or how they can float like that when they’re so big?”

“Uh… I can’t say that I do.”

“They’re made of puff-crete, essentially. A lot of people think puff-crete is only good for making roads and tall buildings—but that’s not true. It’s very versatile stuff.”

“Yeah… I know a man named Bevan. He spent most of his life studying the material.”

For the first time, she looked up at me. “Bevan…? I don’t know him.”

“There’s no reason why you should.”

We gazed at each other for a moment. She was older, thirty-something. She would have been attractive, but her face seemed a trifle too hard. Too careworn.

“Are you just sightseeing down here, soldier?” she asked.

At that moment, I became wary for the first time. How did she know I was a soldier? Sure, there were thousands of us in this town. Central practically crawled with military people of every type, but still…

“How’d you know I’m an off-duty legionnaire?” I asked her.

She seemed to relax a fraction at these words. She looked me over again, nodding. “A legionnaire…? Not Hegemony?”

“Bite your tongue, girl! I’m no hog who’s strayed out here from Central.”

She licked her lips. “Okay. I believe you. You want to know how I can tell you’re military? Well, for one thing, you all walk like you’re marching. For another, your kind is rare down here.”

“Yeah… I bet. These ships are cool, but the docks themselves are kind of dull.”

“What’s your name, soldier?”

I hesitated, but then I decided to go with my instincts.

“I’m Centurion James McGill, ma’am. From Legion Varus.”

She nodded, and she looked me in the eye. Was that a sparkle? Did she like the military type? It was my impression that she did.

At that moment I heard something behind me. Unfortunately for my would-be assailant, the puff-crete walkways out here weren’t what they used to be. They were worn down and crunchy in places. In others, they were outright damaged.

I’d noted that jagged stains had liberally splattered the streets and sidewalks. They’d been created when fragments of burning debris had come to rest from the big city itself, melting a permanent mark into the pavement.

One of those burnt scars happened to be right behind me. When the man who was sneaking up on my six stepped on a crunchy spot, it made a noise like crackling ice.

Spinning around, I didn’t have much time to think about anything, but I managed to recognize the guy anyway. He was the homeless fellow I’d met some minutes ago, perched on a barrel. The one that had called me a freak and run off. He must have been playing lookout or something.

The only other things I noticed were the objects in his hands: He had a neural paralyzer in his right, and a pair of gravity cuffs in his left.

When I reached for him, he startled and began to back up. That was a bad move. If he’d touched me with the paralyzer, things might not have gone fairly for old McGill.

As it was, he lifted the weapon up between us, like it was some kind of deterrent. Ignoring it, I moved in on him.

I didn’t bother to ask what he was doing, or why he was armed with nonlethal toys, I just grabbed his skinny ass and tossed him into the air. On his way over the rail, I heard the neural paralyzer buzz and snap. He must have slapped himself with it, as I didn’t feel anything.

Before he even had time to hit the cold black water, I whirled back around toward the lady who’d been chatting me up. She now had a big pistol in my face.

Her expression had transformed—and not in a good way. She was all out of smiles today.

“You vicious bastard,” she said in a breathless voice. She glanced down over the railing, down to where the man was thrashing weakly in the water. “He’s paralyzed… He’ll drown down there.”

I tried to work up some fake sympathy, but it just wasn’t in me, so I shrugged. “You can’t go around sneaking up on a Varus man. Any idiot should know that.”

“I’m going to shoot you down where you stand. Turov was an idiot to send me a mindless gorilla like you.”

“Uh…” I said, slowly putting two and two together. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Dross, would it?”

She made a sound of disgust. “Hopeless. No subtlety, just brute force. I can’t use you. You won’t investigate anything, you’ll just lash out at random.”

I smiled and stood tall. “You’re right about all that, ma’am. I guess you should contact Turov and reject me straight-away. Let her know how wrong I am for this assignment.”

Without giving her a chance to change her tune, I began to amble off the way I’d come.

Behind me, I heard Dross work her tapper. Was she actually going to do it? I dared to hope. My heart soared, imagining I’d gotten out of an irritating duty I had little interest in.

“McGill! Come back here!”

Sighing, I turned back around. Dross had her hands on her hips, and her tail was lashing—or would have been if she’d had one to lash.

“Turov says you’re all I’m going to get. Come on.”

Dejected, I followed Dross into the nearest of the big warehouses. A few workers glanced at us, but they only shook their heads. No one called the cops—the cops probably didn’t like coming down here for trivial things like murder.

As I walked past the railing, I glanced down at the skinny dude in the hoodie—he didn’t look his best. He was floating face down in the sea. Each swell that hit the docks pushed the body against the pylons and made him flop around grotesquely.

It seemed clear to me that I’d made some new friends today, in my usual manner.

-3-

“So… uh… Dross,” I said, following the angry woman through the warehouse. “Are you some kind of hog, or something?”

She stopped and fixed me with a glare. “Didn’t Turov tell you anything? She’s technically in charge of this op, for god-knows-why reasons.”

“Nope.”

“Great… That’s just great. Come on.”

Dross led me to the back of the warehouse, to some shack-like office with windows so grimy you could hardly see through them. Everything on the far side was a blur.

Opening the door, she led me into a chamber with three desks and four chairs. She pointed to the chair without a desk.

“That’s yours. Billington sits over there.”

“What about the fourth spot? The one with the desk?”

“That belonged to Katrina. She’s missing.”

I nodded. “What’s your title again, sir?”

“Section Chief. That’s the official term. But to you, I’m god.”

“Got it. What do you want me to do?”

“Here.” She dug out a neural paralyzer and a pair of gravity cuffs. They were just like the ones poor Billington had been carrying before I’d drowned him. “You’re not armed, are you?”

“No ma’am,” I lied with authority.

“Good. You’re not allowed to use lethal force.”

“Not even… you know, like gravity and seawater and such-like?”

Dross glared at me. “Your job is to board each of these ships when they dock. You’ll be given a computer scroll describing the contents of every container aboard each ship. Your task is to perform an inspection, looking around for an hour or two unescorted. Open containers at random and inspect the contents. If they match the manifest, clear the ship and leave.”

Blinking, I turned and gazed out of the cleanest of the windows. At various docks were several looming, monstrously oversized vessels.

“Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to inspect a ship the size of a mountain in a few hours? It will be sheer luck if I find anything illegal.”

Dross shrugged. “We’re understaffed and underfunded. Do what you can. But—that’s not your most important duty, McGill.”

“There’s more, huh?”

“Yes. We’re all trying to figure out what’s been happening to my inspectors. We’ve lost seven in the last month. They board a ship, search it… but sometimes they never return here to the office. We’ve called in the police, even Central.”

“What’d they do about it?”

She glared at me. “They sent you.”

“Oh… then I understand your disappointment. Hmm… I’ll see what I can do.”

Dross watched me as I headed for the exit.

“Don’t you want to see your first inspection assignment?”

I waved a hand over my shoulder. “Forward it to my tapper. I’ll go through it. I’ve got a photographic memory for these things.”

Muttering disgustedly, she let me go. A few minutes later, when I was out loafing on the docks, I got a priority message.

I’d almost forgotten that I’d asked Dross for the manifests, and I’d already swiped the message away to the spam folder when I realized what it must be. Shrugging, I decided to leave well enough alone. After all, I’d caught the name of the ship in the subject line: Sea Empress. That should be all I needed.

Twenty minutes later, I reached the moorings where the Sea Empress stood. She was an imposing hulk. She blotted out the sky. Her shadow lowered the temperature of the chilly March winds down to an icy level.

A few surly looking crewmen eyed me as I approached.

“The last tour group has come and gone, mate,” one of them said as I moved to march right past them.

The other guy released a scratchy laugh. “Yeah… tour-guides! Good one, Merron.”

“Shut up,” Merron said. Then he turned back to me. “What do you want, boy?”

“I’m the new inspector.” With a flourish, I showed them the credentials that Dross had given me.

“Well, it’s about bloody time. We’ve been waiting seven hours for our damned inspection. How about you give us a quick pass and go have yourself a beer?”

I walked past him, and they followed irritably.

For a few hours, I walked around their big, echoing ship. The thing was even bigger than I had expected, and the task quickly began to look helpless. Accordingly, I gave up.

Heaving a sigh I closed the nonexistent file I’d been pretending to consult every few minutes. The two crewmen, both bored by now, eyed me dully.

“Hey. How about the three of us have a beer or something?”

They perked up immediately. “You’re done?”

“Sure thing—if it means we can all have a brew or two together.”

“That sounds great!” Merron said. He was instantly perky.

His sidekick Lenny never did anything without his approval, but even so, Lenny looked baffled. “That other guy, Billington… he takes twice as long to do an inspection.”

Merron landed a big hand on his shoulder. It looked friendly, but I could tell from the look on Lenny’s face it had landed with surprising force, turning into a slap.

“There now, no more arguments out of you, mate. If the good man says he’s finished—he’s damned well finished.”

“Oh… oh yeah.”

They led the way to the crew quarters, where I flicked at my tapper and guzzled four of their shitty beers. They were cold, bitter, and cheap—but I didn’t care.

“Have you boys heard anything about inspectors like me disappearing? Aboard these big ships, I mean?”

Merron looked scandalized. “What? Nah… Super-cargos are the dullest places on Earth, McGill. You should have figured that out by now.”

I smiled. “Yes… they do seem to be boring, but still… there have been some disappearances. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

Lenny was frowning, while Merron kept right on smiling. “Just rumors, mate. Don’t let it spook you. I know you’re new to the job, but after your first hundred inspections, you’ll be as wall-eyed as the rest of us.”

“Right…”

My eyes and attention soon moved to Lenny. He was the man who might tell me something. It was clear that Merron just wanted me out of the way as soon as possible.

When Merron shuffled off to some duty or another—probably a quick trip to the head—I took a shot at Lenny. “Hey, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Lenny gaped and blinked. He looked confused, then scared. “Nothing.”

I nodded sagely. “That’s fine, then. Too bad I’m going to have to fail your ship this time around.”

“What?”

“That’s right. Too many violations.”

“Are you crazy, McGill? You didn’t say anything about any violations. You said you were happy about everything.”

I shook my head and tapped at my tapper in a meaningful manner. “It’s all here. Fire hazards, improper container maintenance, bad paperwork… when I said I was done with the inspection, I didn’t say you’d passed. I meant I had enough to keep you from unloading.”

“But… that’s…”

“Say,” I said, leaning forward as if gripped by a sudden concern. “You don’t think the captain will blame you and Merron for this, do you? That would be unfair.”

“Blame us? How?”

“Well, seeing as your name is on every page of this failed report. There’s a stack of work here to do—a big stack.”

“Listen, McGill, that’s crazy. We’ve been coming here for years. Every month or so. We’ve never failed inspection. Never.”

I shrugged and cracked open another of their piss-water beers. “That’s too bad. But I’m new here, a new inspector. I have to make my mark. You understand.”

“No. I don’t understand at all.”

“Hmm…” I said. “There is one thing… but no, you wouldn’t be interested.”

Lenny gaped at me for a few more long seconds. He wasn’t the sharpest. “Wouldn’t be interested in what?”

“In showing me what’s really going on aboard this ship. I looked it up. One of the inspectors, one of my comrades, Lenny—they vanished on this ship. You know about that, don’t you?”

Lenny studied the deck. He nodded once, miserably.

Merron appeared at that point, spoiling everything. “What’s all this then?” he demanded. “Are you two proposing marriage or something?”

I smiled and chugged my beer. “You guessed it. Lenny refused me.”

Merron found this uproariously funny. I laughed with him, until we both noticed Lenny was trying to get our attention.

“I’ll do it, Mr. Inspector, sir,” Lenny burst out. He looked dejected and more than a little scared.

It was Merron’s turn to gape then, looking from one of us to the other in astonishment and confusion.

-4-

Lenny led me down into the bowels of the ship. Merron followed us. He constantly threatened to contact the captain—but he never did.

“We shouldn’t be down here. Captain Logan and all the others—they’ll be pissed.”

“Don’t worry about it, Merron,” I told him. “If they scare you, I’ll take care of them.”

I gave him a hard smile, but he didn’t meet my eye. He was looking around—everywhere but at me. He was breathing hard, studying the deck, the bulkheads, the containers… I’ve seen lots of scared men who were contemplating murder. I made a mental note to keep an eye on old Merron.

Lenny went deeper into the ship. We were below the waterline now, and we were still heading down one set of rattling steel steps after another.

Finally, Merron couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped and clung to the rail with both hands, like it was going to get away from him.

“Lenny, stop right here,” he said.

Lenny glanced back. “We’re almost down to the room. The inspector—”

“He’s no inspector. I looked him up. The captain has looked him up, too. He’s not even on the official lists. Who exactly are you, McGill?”

Both men halted and looked at me. Lenny had a flashlight, and he shined it into my face in an annoying fashion.

“Don’t worry if you can’t find my name. I’m new.”

“You’re a spook—or a freak from the city, more likely.”

“A freak? Why do people keep calling me a freak down here at the docks?”

Lenny looked sheepish. “They used to call me that. We have… special drug shipments. They come through here now and then, but I never took any of them. People just thought I did because—”

Lenny broke off with a squawk. A wrench had struck him. It had flown down the stairs with surprisingly good aim.

“Wow,” I said, picking up the wrench. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? You might have cracked his skull with that shot.”

Lenny was on his knees. Blood oozed between his fingers.

Merron’s voice downshifted. He sounded regretful. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Freaks are addicts, that’s all. Lenny, are you okay?”

“Fucker…” Lenny whispered, still clutching at his head.

I twirled the wrench in my hand and watched Merron closely. At last, I pretended to reconsider.

“You know, I think we should go back up. We’ll talk to the captain. He’ll know the right of it.”

Some of Merron’s tension left him. He took in a deep breath and turned around. “Right this way, McGill.”

I followed him up for twelve steps—then I clocked him one. I hit him harder than he’d hit Lenny—but I figured he’d live. Probably.

Merron sagged to the deck, and I tucked the bloody wrench into his claw-like hand. Then I turned back.

I met Lenny, who was still holding onto his aching brainpan.

“What…? Where…?”

“Merron is going up to get some help for you. In the meantime, why don’t you show me around?”

Lenny’s eyes were wide with fear and pain. He nodded his head, but he didn’t say a thing.

Turning around, he led me down another sixty steps. At the bottom, we came to a sealed door. Lenny leaned into it, and his muscles bulged as he tried to spin the wheel.

“It’s stuck,” he said.

I stepped up to help. Together, we grunted and heaved. At last, the wheel spun and the door groaned open.

“After you,” I said.

Lenny led the way into the dark hold. Down here, I saw fewer containers. Instead of countless stacked bricks of shipping goods, there were platforms hung with chains and gears.

“These are elevators. We can bring containers down from the upper levels—or send them back up.”

“What is this, then? The lowest dungeon in the ship?”

“Yes. It’s kind of a lower hold. They keep the heavy stuff down here usually—it works as ballast for whatever is on the upper decks.”

“Great. Now show me something interesting, Lenny.”

He eyed me for a time. “Are you going to kill me after? Like Merron?”

“Not if I like what I see.”

Lenny looked furtive. “You’re not going to like it—but I’ll show you anyway.”

He walked through the containers, and I followed warily. He was acting as weird as everyone else on this ship, and I wasn’t enjoying the experience.

Could the disappearances be as simple as this? Were nosy inspectors finding drug deals gone wrong in the depths of gigantic holds? I hoped it would be that easy—but I was about to become sorely disappointed.

Lenny led me to a… a device. My father would have called it a contraption. It was about the size and shape of a dentist’s x-ray machine. There were thick wires sprouting out and spiraling around. The whole thing had the look and feel of a prototype built by insane engineers.

The machine had a swinging arm with a big glossy head on the end of it. The head had handles on the sides, and Lenny grabbed one of the handles. He brought the cone-shaped projector around to aim at the container, almost touching the side of it.

I watched him as he worked. Once he had the head aligned, he pressed a button. I heard a humming sound, and a white electrical arc light began to shine.

“Holy…!” I began, but I cut off.

The machine had a screen on it. When Lenny activated the camera head thing—or whatever it was—the screen lit up as well. It showed us what was inside the crate. That took a second to understand, but when I did, I laughed in relief.

“I get it. This thing is a fluoroscope, or an x-ray—whatever. You guys use it to see inside the containers, right?”

Lenny looked at me with bloodshot eyes. One drop of blood had run down his left cheek and dried there, looking rust-red.

“Not exactly.”

Then, as I watched, he reached for the console on the x-ray machine, and he pressed a button. There was a flash and a snapping sound.

At first, I frowned at everything. Nothing looked different—but then, I noticed something inside the container was missing.

“What was that? What did you just zap with that gizmo?”

“I’m not sure. It wasn’t on the pay-list, that’s for sure.”

“The pay-list?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at the deck again. “They give us a list of goods, see. Tools. Containers of raw elements. Tech gear—whatever. We find the right container, bring it down here, and we zap the item out of the box. Then we send it back up to the hold.”

“Is that right?” I gawked, fascinated. “So you’re stealing stuff? That’s how this works? And no one can figure it out, because the containers are still sealed when they get to their destinations?”

“Yes. They have smart-locks on them. Every container knows what has gone in and out of its doors. They keep tight track. No one can blame the shipping company when something doesn’t make it to the right destination.”

“All right, Lenny. I have just two questions for you.”

He looked at me. He was sweating, bleeding and staring. He didn’t say anything.

“First off, I’d like to know what happened to the other inspectors—the ones who’ve gone missing.”

Lenny shrugged. “I don’t know. I never saw one of them make it down here.”

“What about the guy who vanished on this very ship?”

Lenny licked his lips. “I… I wasn’t down here then.”

“Of course you weren’t. I’d swear to that on a stack of bibles.”

“You would?”

I held my hand a meter and a half off the deck. “A stack of bibles that high.”

“Well… let’s just say that a man… a nosy man, a man who didn’t know his place… he might have come down here and… well…”

“Out with it, Lenny.”

“He might have gotten in between the container and the beam—you know—and been transported away.”

“To where?”

Lenny shrugged again. “To wherever all this stuff goes. Somewhere bad, I suspect.”

I nodded. “You’re a deep thinker, Lenny. Now, that second question: why are you telling me all this?”

Lenny’s left cheek twitched. It was the lamest excuse for a smile I’d ever seen. “So you won’t kill me. I know who you are, McGill. I used to serve in the legions.”

I stared at him. “Varus?”

He nodded, and I smiled. Lenny was a few beers short of a six-pack, sure, but in that instant I believed him. He had that washed-out look that some legion men got. He’d seen the stars, maybe died a dozen times, and then he’d come back to Earth, broken. It was an old story. Not everyone was cut out for the kind of life I led.

After Lenny’s surprising revelations, I was in a pretty good mood. After all, I’d figured out a mystery and solved the whole case in record time. Surely, Dross would praise me and send me back home to Central, pronto. Maybe I’d even get to go home to Georgia for a while.

Accordingly, I lifted my tapper. I took some photos, even demonstrating how the device worked. Then I made an attempt to mail the whole incriminating mess not just to Station Chief Dross, but to Galina herself.

The signal, however, was blocked.

About then I noticed that the door about a hundred meters behind us came flying open. It clanged, steel-on-steel, and the sound bounced around the hold like the voice of doom.

Flashlights with armed men holding them up began to flood into the hold. I took out my pistol, and I aimed it—but then more men came down, and more still. There had to be twenty of them, and they were still coming, spreading out and creeping into the hold, fanning out.

I looked at Lenny, and he stared back at me.

“You sold me out?”

He shrugged.

I aimed my pistol at him. “Tell me why I shouldn’t burn you down first.”

“Because I showed you what you wanted to see. And because we’re both Varus men—at least, I used to be.”

“Huh… yeah well, all right. I’ll tell you what. Aim that camera-thing at me.”

Lenny blinked in surprise. “But… that’s not safe. There has to be some radiation, some—”

I laughed at him. “There are thirty men behind us, and more coming. Come on, one Varus man should help out another.”

Lenny blinked, but he nodded. He aimed the camera-head thing at me, and he activated it.

A ball of plasma lit up the hold. It was blindingly bright, not being hidden by the walls of a container this time.

Men shouted and shots rang out. One struck Lenny, then two. I tried to reach for the controls, to activate the transmission button—but I couldn’t move. Something about the field had me in stasis, or at least slow motion.

But then Lenny struggled to his knees and slapped the button for me.

A dozen men ran up, shouting and angry. They shot Lenny, again and again.

They shot me too, but I’d already begun phasing out. I was halfway between this dirty ship’s bowels here on Earth and wherever it was I was going to.

In my long life, I’ve been teleported around in various ways to quite a number of exotic locations. That process was happening now, I could feel it.

I hoped my destination would be a pleasant place, but it wasn’t a strong hope.

-5-

When I arrived at my destination, I tried not to gag and cough and suck wind—but I failed.

The trip through hyperspace had been a long one. I’d spent several minutes in limbo, without much of a chance to prep myself mentally. When you’re tripping between two distant locations, I’ve found it takes around a second per lightyear. I’d gotten good over the decades at counting seconds, to give myself an idea of how long I’d been gone—but not this time. I’d forgotten to do it. The only impression I had was that the trip had been a long one, probably something like five hundred lightyears or so.

So I doubled over upon arrival, gasping and choking. I almost puked. While teleporting a long ways, you felt like you needed to breathe, even though you really didn’t. The effect on your mind and body was similar to waterboarding, where a person felt like they were drowning.

When I arrived at last and got over my choking fit, I straightened up and looked around. The atmosphere here—wherever I was—didn’t seem to be poisonous. At least, it wasn’t killing me straight-away. There could always be something lurking though, like a high level of carbon monoxide, something that would kill me in the next ten minutes or so. I’d just have to wait that out and hope for the best.

Sure, I knew there was a good chance I’d permed myself. I’m not as big of a fool as most people think. But I’d been faced with a grim dilemma: I could have stayed on Earth and ate a few bullets, and hoped for a revive. That might have been long in coming, given that I’d have vanished like the previous half-dozen “inspectors”. Maybe the next guy to earn a shit-listed duty on the docks would do better than I did and figure out what was happening. Even then, however, I might have stayed permed for years—or maybe forever.

Not liking the thought of dying in the dark hold of the Sea Empress, I’d decided to grab the bull by the balls and port out. My method was risky, sure, but at least this way I was guaranteed to learn more about this crime ring before my luck ran out.

Looking around, I found I was in a building of some kind. The ceiling was high, and it curved at the top. Every square meter in the middle of the area where I’d landed had some kind of junk sitting on it. There were barrels of chemicals, crated instruments, tanks of oxygen and other gases—all kinds of random goods. If I had to guess, I’d say they were the kinds of things an industrial or scientific worksite might use. There wasn’t anything like clothing, food, or consumer goods to be seen.

No food… Hmm… that wasn’t so good. If this station—whatever it was—didn’t have humans working here, or anyone else that ate anything compatible with a human digestive system, well, my stay here was limited in scope.

The air was humid, and it tasted of the sea. At first, I figured the smell of the ocean might have been a lingering factor from Earth, but as I walked among the stacks of stuff, I began to get other ideas.

The air tasted wrong somehow. Familiar, but different. It was a bit metallic—like blood. One thing was for sure: this wasn’t the east coast of North America Sector. I was certain of that much.

To a starman like myself, this wasn’t very surprising. A lot of planets had large bodies of saltwater. The fact that it smelled weird was to be expected as well. Planets often had their own distinctive tastes and smells, and this place seemed to match that pattern.

As I poked around, hoping for a bigger weapon than my service pistol, a nagging idea grew in my brain: This smell wasn’t entirely unknown to me. It was familiar, somehow.

Unable to place it, I shrugged and found the nearest firm wall. Reaching out to touch it, I recoiled in disgust. The wall was wet, and it gave a little under my fingers. Was it made of flesh? Damn, I hoped not.

Making good time, I followed the wall around through the stacked junk until I found a door. The door itself wasn’t normal. It seemed like it was built of stone, and it had a knob that was way too big for a human to use. It was about the size of a man’s head.

Something about that doorknob… Had I seen the likes of it before? I wasn’t sure, but it did tickle my memory.

Shrugging, I grabbed it and twisted. That was like trying to twist the trunk of an oak tree. Not being a man who gave up easily, I applied both hands, then both full arms, wrapping myself around the thing and heaving for all I was worth.

The rough stone scratched my skin and blood welled up from my palms. I persisted, however. I didn’t want to stick around so close to my landing spot. The sailors might get brave and come after me. If not that, then whoever ran this place might come looking for the new delivery. Surely, some kind of warning buzzer had to have sounded when I arrived. It was only a matter of time before I was going to find myself with unwanted company.

Looking around, flexing my arms, I found a tarp of sorts. I wrapped this around the knob and gave it a mighty heave.

The knob shifted, and it creaked loudly. Then the door opened, swinging outward and away from me.

Damnation! That door was frigging huge. It had to be four meters high at least. Whoever these people were, they must be gigantic.

The doorway led out onto an open expanse of sand and rocks. I saw a green sea gushing and lapping over those worn stones. There were waves coming in to the shore, big ones.

Then I saw the sky above, and I knew the truth.

There were gray clouds, sure. There was a sun somewhere—I could sense it hiding behind those heavy clouds, silvering their edges.

But it wasn’t the clouds or the hiding sun that caught my eye. I was the open areas—the parts of the sky that were unobstructed.

What I saw there was a deep green. A green that reminded me of our own earthly blue, just as full of color and glowing light. I wondered what atmospheric elements might make one sky blue and another red, or green like this one.

That’s what did it for me, the sky. I felt like an idiot. It was so obvious. I’d seen this place, off and on, for years. I’d even visited here several times. Once, decades back, I’d led a commando mission onto these islands and killed a Wur scientist of sorts.

“Green sky, green sea…” I said aloud. “Green World…”

There was an endless ocean out there. No other land was in sight. Just like every other time I’d been here, or caught a glimpse. To the best of my knowledge, there wasn’t much land on this planet. It was mostly covered in oceans—or at least that was my impression.

Tearing my gaze away from the sea and sky, I began scanning the beaches. I didn’t see anyone around, but there had to be someone here.

There were other hulking buildings nearby. Each was large—as big as the warehouses on the docks back at Central City. Were they all full of stolen goods? There was only one way to find out.

Gripping my pistol firmly and trying to look every which way at once, I walked across rocks and sand to the next massive building. This one had an open doorway which yawned wide to reveal the cavernous interior. I slipped around the massive door, careful not to make it swing or creak, and I walked into the quiet interior.

-6-

The second warehouse was just as chockfull of stuff as the first had been. This was way too much theft to be done for easy profit—it was the kind of stash I’d seen at supply depots on legion bases.

What was more important was the different kind of goods I found in the second building. Instead of science and survival gear, I found weapons. Lots of them—and some of them were weird.

In general, the rifles looked to be the size of rocket launchers. They appeared to fire plasma bolts, but I passed on the idea of shooting one off to confirm my suspicions. Whoever had built up this massive stockpile would doubtlessly react in a negative fashion to a man like me poking around in here.

There were rebreathers, too. Stuff built for underwater work. And larger, automated gun turrets. I had a fair amount of experience with this sort of thing. You could set them up like automatic sprinklers, and they would sense, track and destroy any target that failed to transmit the correct friend-or-foe codes. They were nasty things. As an infantryman I hated them just on principal.

After spending a good half-hour fooling with the gear, I came to a realization: this equipment wasn’t meant for a human army. The stuff would hardly fit on a man. Not even a heavy trooper from Blood World could carry this kind of kit easily. The rifles alone had to weigh damn near a hundred kilos.

“Found anything you like, yet?” asked a feminine voice from behind me.

I spun, lifting my pistol, but she had a bead on me already.

“Ah-ah,” she said, taking aim at my face. “Don’t make me shoot you, James. I’d feel bad.”

It was Abigail Claver. She was a woman of ill-repute by anyone’s standards. For years, I counted her as a friend, but today…

“What’s all this for, girl?” I demanded. “You’ve got enough stuff to outfit an army—an army of giants, that is.”

Abigail looked thoughtful. “Of all the people I didn’t expect to find out here in my warehouse, you have to top the list. I saw the sensor readings, and they said you were human, but I wouldn’t have believed it unless I’d seen it with my own eyes.”

I smiled and lifted my hands in a shrug. “Well… I do get around.”

“That you do. Now, before I send you back to whatever casting device you came out of, James, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Uh… like what?”

“Is Central watching this right now?”

There was an edge to her voice. I could hear it plain as day. She was pretending not to care much one way or the other, but as a near-professional liar myself, I knew she was bullshitting.

The trouble was, I wasn’t sure how to answer her. If I told her Central was watching, well then, she would have no qualms about offing me immediately. The casting device worked that way, sending spies to ungodly places so they could look around, then watching them die and printing out a new man when the death was confirmed.

The difficult part was no one was watching me today. I had no guardian angel looking over my shoulder. If I died out here on Green World, I would be most soundly permed. No one knew I was here except for Abigail, and I couldn’t count on her kind heart after I’d gone and trespassed and snooped around and everything.

Although it hurt my thinker to even contemplate it, I thought I was going to have to come clean and tell her the truth—most of it, at least.

“Well… that’s a tricky point. I’m not supposed to be here. You see, I discovered your operation at the docks at Central city. After a little bit of… convincing… I got the sailors aboard one of those big ships to send me here to check things out.”

“Really? And why would you be doing that, pray tell?”

I shrugged. “That should be obvious. You’ve been stealing lots of stuff, Abigail. That has been noticed. Investigators found your setup with the containers and the x-ray-looking machine. Anyways, I was sent to find out who was on the far end of this slick operation. I must say, I’m impressed by the extent of it. Did you really steal all this stuff?”

Abigail stared at me. Her eyes were all squinty-looking. I could tell she was trying to sift through my words and figure out what was wheat and what was chaff.

“So… Central knows you went somewhere—but not exactly where?”

“I guess so.”

She sighed, and she lifted her pistol in a decisive manner. “Dammit, James. You shouldn’t have told me that. Whether its truth or a lie, it means I have to burn your oversized carcass to slag.”

“Uh… it does?”

“Of course. Think about it from my point of view, before you get offended.”

“I’m trying. Help me out.”

She waved the pistol, indicating I should step away from the weapons crates. “First, let’s take a little walk outside on the beach.”

I glanced over my shoulder. There was a lot of valuable looking equipment behind me. Maybe she didn’t want burn-scars all over it.

Instead of moving away, I threw a big arm over an expensive looking field projector. I smiled. “Sorry, I like it right here.”

She sighed again, shaking her head. “All right, have it your way.”

“Hold on one second. What good will it do to burn me down here?”

“It’s always satisfying to take care of a thief in my warehouse.”

“I haven’t taken anything!”

“All right, all right—a spy then. But besides that, I can’t have you reporting back to Central on what you’ve seen here.”

I snorted. “Look, let’s play the logic-game, shall we? Let’s say that the Central folks decided to risk old McGill, and they sent me through using one of your machines as an experiment.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What would they do next?” I asked, then I immediately answered before she could come up with any answers of her own. She was a clever woman. “They’d send more agents, that’s what. Maybe a team of men with teleport harnesses to bring them back to Earth, pronto.”

Abigail looked worried. She gazed out the doorway. “You didn’t come directly to this warehouse, did you?”

I shook my head.

“You arrived at building six… there might be more agents in there by now. Shit.”

“That’s what I’m saying, girl. Now, do you want to listen to my proposition?”

She snorted. “What would that be?”

“Let’s you and me get out of here. It’s a good deal gone sour, that’s all. Just take your profits and run off. Isn’t that what any member of the Claver-clan would do?”

“James… I’m sorry about this. Really I am. But I’m not in charge of this operation. I’m not running some petty theft racket—I just work here.”

I blinked at her, not really understanding what she was talking about. If this wasn’t about turning a profit for the Clavers, what was it about?

Before I had time to ask her anymore questions however, she shot me dead.

-7-

When I was revived an unknown time later, I awakened with a curious mind. Who might be interested enough in old McGill to give him one more chance at life? Would it be a friend—or a hated enemy?

My first clue was the sound of a male voice. Then another chimed in. My heart sank to hear them both. One was that of Maurice Armel, the other was deep, rough… could it be a saurian? I thought that it might be.

“We should not do this,” the saurian said. “What is done is done. We should leave it.”

“Shut up, Raash,” Armel said. “Get him awake and off that table. I have… questions.”

I tried to say something, but it came out as a mumble. I felt drugged. Had they given me something before I’d even awakened? That seemed like dirty pool to me.

Strong, scaly hands grabbed me under the armpits. I was hauled up into a sitting position. I dared to open my eyes a crack, expecting to have my optic nerve blinded by the usual glare of someone’s Blue Deck.

But this place was different. It was dimly lit for a revival chamber. No Earth facility I’d ever heard of would have an O. R. that looked like this dingy pit.

My heart sank. I wasn’t on Earth. I was probably nowhere near it. I was out somewhere in the frontier provinces, probably.

My mouth and throat were too dry to form words. That was weird, too. I bit my cheek and let a little blood and spittle trickle. That allowed me to speak.

“What do you pencil-dicks want with me?” I managed to rasp out.

The saurian spoke up proudly. “You see there? He speaks! No one can revive a loose pile of scat like McGill better than Raash can. Raash is the best.”

“Yes, yes,” Armel said, sounding completely unimpressed. “Your skills are renown, Raash. Now leave us so that we may talk like two civilized beings.”

“Foolish. This one is aggressive. I know him well. He stalks you. You are his prey.”

Armel heaved a sigh. “I’m not unaware of this man’s reputation. We have killed one another on several occasions in the past.”

Raash let go of my arms, and I struggled to keep from slumping over. That wasn’t normal. Sure, I’d just been revived and rubbery muscles were to be expected—but I’d been shot up with something on top of that to keep me docile.

Raash walked out. My eyes were half-closed, but I heard his thick feet scratching on the tiled floor. His tail made a sound like a fire hose being dragged away. 

“Foolish…” he muttered to himself on the way out.

Armel laughed. “Raash has a vaunted opinion of you, McGill. He thinks you are dangerous even when you’re as weak as a kitten.”

“I’m not so weak,” I slurred. “Just try me!”

Armel reached out a gloved hand. I saw it because my chin was on my chest, and my blinking eyes caught a glimpse as it approached. He poked me in the belly—hard.

That didn’t hurt or anything, but it made me lurch and reach out with my hands. I tried to grab Armel, but my limbs were clumsy. Damn.

I teetered, lost my balance, and slid off the gurney. Armel let me fall, and he kept on laughing. I was on my ass on the tiles, looking around angrily. The world spun, and it was sickening to keep my eyes open, but I did it anyway.

Still chuckling, Armel knelt and looked me in the eye. “You’ve been given a sedative. They told me it should affect your nervous system, but not your mind. As I watch your idiotic behavior, however—this has me concerned…”

“You’d best be even more concerned when this stuff wears off.”

Armel tsked at me. “Now, now, you should be grateful. After all, you were as good as permed out there on Green World. You know that, don’t you?”

“Out there? This isn’t Green World?”

“Not here, no. We are on Rigel.”

That statement ran a shot of adrenalin through my guts. My eyes widened, and they were almost fully open now.

“Ah!” Armel hooted. “I see that this tidbit has piqued your interest. Let me think why… ah yes, perhaps it is because on Rigel there is no creature, big or small, that is more hated than James McGill. Could that be it?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I’ve been here before.”

“Indeed, I remember! More importantly, the people of Rigel remember. Did you know that there are memorials built to grieve those you killed on that single day of infamy? Claver and I worked hard to focus their great hate upon a single name.”

“Didn’t want to take any of the blame yourselves, huh?”

“Absolutely not. And why should we? James McGill came to the space station. He damaged the generators, causing the force field network to partially collapse. Thousands died, perhaps millions.”

“That’s a crying shame, but in war, sometimes people die. What do you want, Armel?”

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out through his nostrils. “That is the question, isn’t it? Do I wish for revenge? It would be so easy to hand you over to Squanto. I would be a hero. I would be richly rewarded. The vicious little bears that inhabit this world would dance in the streets.”

Thinking about dancing bears made me laugh, which quickly turned into a cough. You have to remember, I was a little bit high.

“That thought amuses you, eh? Well then, I’ll give you another: I could enslave you here at my base. I have many followers now, McGill. Not just the saurians—that legion is no more than a color-guard. No, whole planets yearn to tear down Earth, and they believe they can do it.”

He finally had my interest. I felt the urge to frown, but I went with the slack-jawed drooling moron look instead. It was always safer.

“Uh…” I said, “I’m not entirely following you. I’m not feeling all that sharp right now.”

“Yes, yes, of course you aren’t. Let me try to explain. Earth has been expanding lately, no?”

“We sure have.”

“That’s right. Humanity has reached out and declared outright war on numerous aliens. In the growing group of the abused species are the Cephalopods, the Vulbites—and don’t forget the Wur.”

“Rigel, too.”

“That goes without saying. Additionally, Earth has also challenged two flavors of Galactic: the Mogwa and the Skay.”

I nodded, unable to argue with him.

“The list doesn’t even end there. There is more hate for our kind abroad than you might realize. We’ve ruined economies as well as planets, McGill. Some who might be thought of as friends are not really. Not at all.”

I frowned, forcing myself to think a bit. “Like the saurians?”

“You’re not a complete imbecile after all! Well done! Yes, the saurians, because we stole their metals trade by shipping ore from Machine World. Then there are the Skrul, who have lost their monopoly on piloting starships. Lastly, I would urge you to count in the sad peoples of Tau Ceti.”

“Tech World? What have the Tau got to be butt-hurt about?”

“Well firstly, you personally tried to destroy Gelt Station.”

“That’s a damned lie!”

Armel silenced me with fluttering fingers. “Have it your way. The truth is they once had a lock on the local trade of minor goods. Now, Earth has cut into all of that. Our worlds trade between one another, and we have all the richest planets.”

“Uh… how’s that?”

“Have you been listening? Or is that great, dormant organ in your skull failing you yet again? I just explained that Steel World is broke, as are the Skrul and so many others. Then there are the planets that have suffered devastation after being drawn into our pointless wars. The Pegs, the scuppers of Storm World, the three tribes of Edge World—”

“What? The Pegs? We went out there to save their asses from the Skay. And those scuppers—”

Armel shook his head, tsking at me again like I was the biggest retard ever conceived. “You should be familiar with the nature of all beings in these situations. Everyone begins to hate those who play the savior almost as much as they hate the original aggressor. People resent a winner, James McGill. Earth makes them feel inferior, and that sensation has festered.”

I blinked and frowned, wondering if he could be right. It was true that most people I met, no matter whether they flapped, swam or ran on hooves, tended to be ingrates.

“Okay,” I said, deciding to accept his point. “Where does that leave us?”

“Why, with a gigantic problem. Virtually everyone hates Earth. They all want to bring her down. Accordingly, they are gathering, organizing, quietly forming an aggressive alliance.”

“Hmm… where do you stand on all this?”

Armel’s mustache twitched and turned up at the corners. “Just where all mercenaries have always stood. I profit from war. When great events occur, I will always be there, aiding those who pay me the most handsome wage.”

I glared at him. “A rebel, then. Through and through. A traitor—”

Armel laughed and threw up a cautionary hand. I spat at him, but it ran down my flappy cheeks.

“No, no—you misunderstand. If I was choosing to move against Earth, why would I have revived you?”

I puzzled over that one for a minute. “To make Squanto happy? To sell me to Rigel as a public exhibit?”

Armel pursed his lips and nodded as if considering the idea. “I have to admit, it would be profitable. But I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, my benighted friend, I think Earth is going to win the coming conflict.”

-8-

Struggling with legs like mud, I stood up and looked down on him, swaying badly. My jaw sagged so low my chin hit my chest, and it wasn’t even an act.

“Seriously?” I managed to say. “You think I can get you back into Earth’s good graces? That’s a tall order Armel.”

“Yes, it is. What do you say?”

I blinked a few times, considering the idea. The more I thought about it, the more insane it seemed.

My first instinct, naturally, was to lie through my teeth. If Armel wanted to give me another chance to keep breathing, and the only price was making a damned fool out of myself, well sir, it sounded like a pretty good bet.

Accordingly, I should grin and tell him it would all be as easy as peach pie. That was my first instinct—and I almost did it.

But, for some reason, when I brought my chin back under control and tried to force a welcoming smile, I failed to do it. I felt compelled, somehow to tell him the honest truth.

“Armel, I… I don’t think I can pull it off. Not even me, with all my good looks and fine reputation… that’s a joke, by the way.”

“I know…” he said, and he began to pace. “I thank you for the honest answer.”

“Uh…” I said, fighting the urge to start lying in earnest. I really wanted to lie. I wanted to lie my damned ass off, and every instinct in me was telling me to—but I just couldn’t.

“What’d you shoot into my arm, anyways?” I demanded. “Some kind of truth serum?”

Armel’s fingers tapped at his chin. “Something like that. Listen, McGill, tell me why this can’t be done?”

“Why? Isn’t that pretty frigging obvious?”

“Indulge me. List the problems as you see them.”

“Uh… okay. First off, you’re talking James McGill, here. I’m not Drusus. I’m not even Turov. I’m a nobody.”

“Untrue, but I understand your meaning. Continue.”

“Okay,” I said, struggling to think and to gain control of my tongue at the same time. I half failed at both. “Do I have to point out that you are on Earth’s most-wanted list of traitors? That you fought against us openly at Edge World?”

“Granted, but that was strictly business. I am a mercenary. I fight for the highest bidder. Why wouldn’t Earth buy out my contract?”

“Because they consider you a turncoat, that’s why.”

“But you have dealings with Claver and his clone armies. They’re turncoats as well.”

I shook my head, and began clumsily pulling on some clothing. My body was sticky with fluids, and I knew that would only get worse as the goo began to dry. As there wasn’t a shower stall in sight, I decided to dress now before everything got crusty.

“It’s not the same. You were sworn into Earth’s service, but you went AWOL. Claver has been an independent trader for a long time, and he did rebel, sure… but…”

The more I thought it over, I realized Armel had a point. Claver was at least as bad as Armel. What was the difference? It was hard to think clearly, I was still a little fuzzy.

“Uh…” I said. “Here’s what I think the difference is: you just don’t have the same value as Claver. As a trader, he’s worth more than any single military commander with a legion behind him.”

“Ah-ha,” Armel said. “That’s a good point. You’re saying you doubt I can convince Central to take a chance on me due to my lack of strategic value.”

“Exactly.”

Armel looked smug. “What if I were to inform you that I would come with more than a few thousand surly reptile troops?”

“Well… whatever you’re thinking of, it had better be good. Don’t forget that you also killed a tall stack of Galactics. The Mogwa frown on that sort of thing even harder than the boys back at Central do.”

Armel made a dismissive gesture and turned away. “Come, come. This way. Follow me, you tottering ape.”

I did as I was commanded. It was almost as if my big feet had a mind of their own.

Marching along behind him through cavernous passages, I thought about clocking him from behind, I really did—but I couldn’t.

I tried to reach out a foot and hook his ankle—but it just didn’t happen. I couldn’t do it. Damn. Whatever he’d shot me up with, I was really feeling it. I felt like a robot with a restraining chip plugged into my chassis.

Armel led me through a twisting set of rocky tunnels. There was melted rock all around the walls and ceiling, and I knew they must have used a beam-driller to create this maze.

“What is this place anyway, Armel? This isn’t Rigel proper, is it?”

“No. As non-natives, we’re not good enough to set foot upon their holy mother planet. We’re on a moon of significant size instead.”

“Huh…”

I knew that Rigel had a few big moons, and that the planet itself was a large one, but I’d never been anywhere other than their main space station.

Eventually, the passageway ended and we found ourselves on a ledge over a huge, sweeping chasm. The floor just fell away from my feet, and I stopped shuffling along barely in time. I found myself looking down over a sheer drop that rivaled the Grand Canyon itself back home.

By this time, I was walking almost naturally, but my head still hadn’t cleared. I wondered how long his drug would affect me, but I wasn’t dumb enough to ask. Did that mean it was beginning to lose its grip? I wasn’t sure.

Armel stood at my side and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “You see that bulk? Down there? That’s an energy plant. It operates by harnessing a tiny singularity.”

“A black hole? That’s what’s inside that big machine?”

“Yes… sort of. It is a controlled gravity source that’s managed and utilized in many ways. Just think, McGill, if we could harness the forces of gravity so thoroughly. The Rigellians use it as a power source.”

“Uh… can’t we already do that? We’ve got floaters and stuff back home. Hell, I’ve got a coffee table that—”

“Yes, yes, but you fail to understand my point, imbecile.”

When you were hanging around with the likes of Maurice Armel, you couldn’t afford to have a thin skin. He was positively obnoxious, but I’d gotten over that for the most part. Still, I felt a twitch of irritation at his continuous barrage of insults. If he’d been a bit closer, I might have reached out and given him a push, sending him spinning off the ledge and down a kilometer or two. He’d make a nice splattering stain on that big machine down there…

Snorting, I gave my head a shake. Yes, there could be no doubt about it, I was returning to normal.

“What’s troubling you, my primate friend?” he asked me.

“Uh… I don’t rightly know.”

It was half a lie. I rejoiced inside. I hadn’t exactly lied, but I hadn’t told the truth, either. I was definitely returning to normal.

Swaying on my feet and blinking, I made a show of rubbing my face, then my hair and my neck. I looked as stupid as possible and kept staring into the abyss.

“I should have expected nothing more,” Armel sniffed. He turned back to the pit and the machine that crouched below us. “You feel its tug, don’t you? Doesn’t it seem like we’re being pulled right off this ledge? That is the power of the machine below. It is like the center of the universe.”

“It kind of does feel like it’s pulling on me.”

“Right. That is the effect of a tiny pinpoint of mass. A singularity of manageable size. It’s the reason why you are feeling almost a normal level of gravity here on a small moon.”

“Oh… I get it.”

“No, you don’t—it is probably beyond your limited capacities. But I will try to elucidate anyway. The singularity is trapped within a containment device. To generate power, the gravity it exerts is being switched on and off again in rapid pulses. Like a combustion engine, this moves various objects—think about them as pistons—and their falling and rising generates a great deal of energy.”

“Uh… so that thing is turning off and on all the time? Why don’t we feel it tugging on us then letting go?”

“We are feeling it. Aren’t you a bit unsteady on your feet?”

“Yeah… but I thought that was the effect of the drug you shot me up with.”

“Not entirely. Part of it—probably most of it by now—is due to the perpetual tug and release going on every microsecond from that vile machine.”

“Hmm…. it feels like I’m in an elevator that’s moving. Like I’m swaying just a little.”

He snapped his fingers at me. “Yes. That is the sensation.”

“So, uh, are you planning to sell this tech to Central? Is that the plan?”

“No. They’re already working on such things. Nothing I could add to their knowledge would be so valuable.”

“What then?”

Armel turned toward me with a nasty smile. “My plan is complex. You are to play a key role in it, however. Here.”

He handed me a teleport harness. That was a shocker. I checked the charge—it was full-up.

“What’s this for?”

“It is already targeted for Earth. No! Don’t fool with the settings!”

I let my big hand slip away from the coordinates. “I was just checking.”

He rolled his eyes. “Listen to me. Part of this plan requires that I die here, under your observation. Touch your tapper to mine, please, and start recording.”

Inwardly I cursed myself. He was right, I should have been recording everything. His drugs or that infernal machine had messed up my thinking for sure.

“Done,” I said. “What now? Are we porting back together, or…?”

“No. That won’t work. I want you to record my death and then port out to Central. Once there, you will get them to revive me via the recorded data in your tapper. They’ll want to question me at least, don’t you think?”

“At least that.”

“Well then… do you agree to participate in this scheme?”

“I guess so… but why are you all fired up to die and leave Rigel? I thought you were sour on Earth.”

“A good question. I already told you that I think Earth will prevail in the coming conflict.”

“Why, exactly?”

“In all history, rebellions of conquered nations rarely succeed. Did you know this?”

“Nope,” I admitted.

“It is true. So, I would place my bet with Earth. But my actions here today are about more than a simple desire to be on the winning side,” his face shifted, and it took on a real look of pain and disgust. “I’m sick of Rigellians and Vulbites and Steel World saurians. I hate the stink of all of them in my nostrils. I yearn for real humanity again. I would rather live among my own kind. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Nope, it makes perfect sense to me.”

We stared at one another for a moment. Finally, Armel became agitated.

“Well then… do it!”

I blinked at him stupidly, and I wasn’t even faking. “What? Do you want me to push you? I thought you were going to jump?”

“No, idiot. They would never accept that approach. I want them to think this wasn’t my idea. I want it to appear I was forced into it.”

“So… I’m supposed to kill you? Right here, right now? Look, there are two lizard guards just over there. They’ll get pissed.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why do you think I brought you here to do this? Teleport away before they can kill you. If anyone can manage that, you can.”

“Yeah, but… won’t they just revive you anyway?”

“No, they won’t. I’ve erased my local data. Also, nothing that touches the surface of that vast containment vessel below us is reachable. They’d have to shut down the entire machine, and they won’t do that. It powers half their cities.”

I glanced around again. The two lizards were standing guard. Like most reptiles, they could look like statues when they wanted to—but I sensed they were watching us anyway.

“You sure you want me to do this?” I asked again.

“Get on with it, damn you!”

It was weird, having a guy so cocksure that he wanted me to pretty much perm him. But since it was Armel, I was game.

I put a hand on his chest, but he stopped me for a moment, grasping my hand with his.

“We shook hands just once before, McGill, back on Storm World. Do you remember that day?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Leeza told me you kept your word to her, even through her death. You brought her back. Do you promise me now to do the same for me?”

“What do I get out of it?”

His eyes darkened. “I just revived you! I just saved you from a well-deserved perming, man!”

“Oh yeah, so you did… Okay, I swear to do my best to get you breathing again, Maurice.”

He nodded, and he shook my hand. “Very well, James. In this odd instance, I trust you.”

Then, I pushed him off the ledge—but I didn’t let go of his hand.

Instead of releasing Armel and letting him spin down into the abyss, I hung on. I dropped to my knees, then my chest.

Dangling below, Armel was howling bloody murder.

“Let go of me, you retarded mule of a man! You’re supposed to let go!”

I hung on. “Hey!” I shouted over my shoulder to the two lizard guards. “I need help over here, he slipped!”

They came running, and I took a glance down at Armel. He was looking up at me with big round eyes.

“Treachery! Betrayal! Base deceit!”

“Keep your shirt on,” I told him. “I’m just doing this my own way.”

The drug that had affected my mind had faded by now. I’d kept talking to Armel, playing the fool, and testing it all the while. By this time, I was pretty sure I could do as I wanted and was free of any chemical influence. The current situation was proof: Armel was anything but happy.

“Let me go, damn you, McGill. So help me, I’ll—”

“Ah-ah, no threats now. Don’t go and give me a good reason to change-up our deal any further.”

He began hissing and twisting down there, using both his hands to pry back my fingers—but he couldn’t do it. He just wasn’t strong enough.

Right about then, the first of the lizards arrived. “Quick!” I told him. “Grab on and pull him back up. Help me!”

The lizard had his gun unslung. He didn’t trust me, that much was clear, but it was also clear that his commander was twisting in the breeze below.

Putting his rifle down, he crouched and reached one thick arm down over the side. He grabbed Armel and began to haul him upward.

Armel, for his part, wasn’t cooperating. He bit my hand, bringing up blood.

“That’s plain unsportsmanlike,” I complained.

I waited until the lizard was leaning way out, hanging onto Armel—then I let go of Armel’s hand. Now holding the full weight of his commander, the lizard teetered. His tail whipped around, trying to regain his balance.

It was as easy as pie. All I had to do was stand up and kick him one in the rump. The lizard plunged over the side, and Armel went with him. They both put up a horrible racket on the way down.

The second lizard was standing nearby at this point. He looked over the side in shock.

“Damned shame, isn’t it?” I asked him.

He turned back to me, revealing about a hundred pointed teeth. I didn’t think he was smiling. “You killed them. You are a bad thing.”

“The worst,” I admitted.

The lizard moved to lift his rifle up between us, but we were too close together. There just wasn’t room for him to line me up for a shot.

He tried anyway, not being a smarty-pants lizard. I grabbed the barrel of his weapon and tugged. Naturally, he responded by bunching up his shoulders and giving a mighty yank to pull the weapon back into his control.

It was a perfectly normal thing to do—unless you were standing on the edge of a cliff. All I had to do was let him have the weapon. I didn’t just let go, however, I gave him a hard shove to go with it, forcing the rifle into his chest.

The second lizard went over even faster than the first one had. Then I was left standing on the precipice, watching him fall. What with his tail spinning around and croaking sounds only his brood mother would cry about, I could only guess at the curse words that were coming out of his toothy mouth.

At last, he vanished into the distant gloom surrounding that strange, quivering machine.

“They really should put up a rail, or something,” I said to nobody.

Calmly, I picked up the first lizard’s rifle and walked back into the tunnels. I was concerned that anyone reviewing these recordings might become irate, seeing my actions as a breach of honor. But I hoped it would be clear that I’d agreed to just two things: one, to kill Maurice Armel. Second, to return to Earth and try to get him revived there.

No one had said anything about just how these events were to occur, or how long they might take to complete. Therefore, my conscience was clear as I stepped into the passages of the moon base to have myself a look around.

-9-

Other people with less flexible minds might have felt bad about what I’d done to old Armel—but not me. I’m a person who engages in a general strategy of allowing people to live and die as they wished.

Armel had done me a solid, there was no way of denying that. He’d brought me back to life when no one else was interested enough to do so. But, he hadn’t done this because he had a big heart and a kindly nature. Quite the opposite. He’d trusted me to keep my deals, so he’d chosen to deal with me—that was the long and short of it.

His trust in me wasn’t badly placed. Someday I would get around to helping him out, if the good Lord was willing, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t think about anything else in the meantime.

One element of the day’s picture had stood out to me among all the others I’d witnessed: Raash. That tricky lizard and I had crossed paths many times. But this was the first I’d seen of him working for the enemy. The last time I’d run into him he’d been working revival machines for Earth’s legions.

What had changed? Had he been plotting his rebellion against Earth for a long time? Some of my conversations with that oddball saurian had indicated as much. There were also other possibilities, of course.

As I walked down the tunnels, I passed a number of Armel’s lizard guards. Practically all of them swiveled their ugly snouts, following my path. They didn’t attack or demand to know what I was doing, however. They’d seen me with Armel, and in their rather straightforward minds I must have been labeled as a guest. Other humans had worked with Armel before, forming the majority of his officer corps.

That fact was helping me today. As long as I looked calm and certain about my business, they let me pass unmolested. At some point, naturally, one of these pointy-toothed geniuses was bound to figure out Armel and his guards had taken a tour of the abyss, but for now, I was free to roam.

The biggest challenge I had was retracing my steps. My mind was pretty clear by now, but I wasn’t certain of every twist and turn—and the idea of stopping to ask for directions was unthinkable. Not even these scaly dumbasses would offer me help without checking up on my status.

So I kept walking and thinking until I found the revival chambers again. I peered inside the chamber, and sure enough, I thought I recognized Raash in there.

I flung the door wide and strode in. Raash hunched and spun, using his heavy tail to speed up the process. Lizards liked to grab the leg of a chair or something to help them turn faster, and this time was no exception. Old Raash latched onto one of the underlying struts of the big machine, curling his tail around it like it was his mama.

“McGill?” he said, peering at me. “What are you doing here?”

“Armel sent me. He’s thinking about making me an officer in his legion.”

“That is unwise. You should be recycled and expunged from our data core.”

“Aw now, that’s a bad attitude, Raash. Surely you aren’t holding onto hard feelings about our past, are you?”

Raash eyed me with his twin reddish slits. He didn’t like me at all, and he never had. The first time we’d met, I’d been chasing Floramel, unaware that this pervert lizard had a carnal interest in her. That unfortunate situation had ended up with a big helping of death for everyone involved.

On later occasions… well… all that was best left to the past. The long and the short of it was we’d never gotten along.

“There are no feelings within me. I am a saurian. My people aren’t weak mammals, full of idle sentiments. We are as cold of heart as we are of blood.”

That was an outright lie. Raash fancied himself logical and calm, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was a hothead, that was for sure.

But I smiled and nodded anyway, accepting his bullshit. Nothing could be gained by ripping open old wounds now.

“You’re one hundred percent right. I’ve always told everyone I know that good old Raash is as cool as a cucumber. You’re as chill as they come, my friend.”

Raash’s eyes blinked a few times. I’d reset his brain, I think. “We are not friends. However, the rest of your words are correct. Your supplication is unexpected.”

“Long overdue, I say… hmm… what’s coming out of the oven now, do you think?”

The revival machine behind Raash was shivering. As I watched, it burped, or farted, or something like that. Goop spilled from the bottom like a half-gallon of drool.

Raash looked at the machine in surprise. “I don’t know… there have been no battles lately. No live-fire exercises. I am perplexed.”

“Ah well, don’t worry your pointy head about it. Some lizard probably just fell off a cliff or something.”

Raash looked back at me, and his eyes were narrowing again. I knew right off that I shouldn’t have pushed things with a joke—but it was too late now, so I moved on to a new distraction.

“Say, I’m curious about how two fellas like us have ended up here. I was kind of wondering how you got recruited. Was it like me? Did you die somewhere, maybe getting run over like a dog in the road?”

“Negative. Offensive. Do not compare me to a dog, human. To call any of my kind a mammal is—”

“Right, right, sorry. I should have compared you to a garter snake, or a skink, maybe. Anyways, how did you come to work for Armel?”

Raash stepped from one thick foot to the other, and his tail lashed for a moment. While he did this, the machine behind him sloshed and churned. I was pretty sure it was gestating a new copy of a lizard, probably one of the boys I’d had a disagreement with, so I had to finish this conversation before he was reborn. I was pretty sure that either one of the guards would come out accusing me of something unpleasant.

“Are you still thinking, or…?” I asked.

“Irritating. Demanding. Insulting and provocative.”

“Ah, I get it. You don’t remember. I understand. Sometimes, when an alien like you comes out of a revival machine meant for humans, he gets kind of twisted up, and his brain doesn’t work right. Don’t hurt yourself trying to answer me, I won’t—”

Raash took a threatening step toward me. I was pissing him off something fierce.

“You suggest Raash is a bad grow? That Raash is an imbecilic lump of meat that should be recycled?”

“Hold on, hold on. I didn’t suggest anything of the kind. You said it, not me.”

“It will not happen. If anyone is to be recycled today, it will be the McGill.”

“I’m sure you’re right about that.”

Raash paced around a moment, but then he suddenly started talking. “There is no work on Cancri-9. Humans have stolen the mining business. Humans monopolize the mercenary business. Some of us are forced to leave our homeworld and seek work among the stars.”

“Hmm… I believe you. Sorry about that, Raash.”

The surprising thing was, I did understand, and I was sympathetic. I came from the swamps of southern Georgia, after all. My people understood travelling to find work. Hell, I’d joined the legions in the first place for similar reasons.

“My downfall came when Earth changed her policies. They rarely revive nonhumans now. My specialty as an operator of large-scale machines isn’t needed any longer.”

All of a sudden, I got it. Raash had been let go. He’d been laid off, effectively. He hadn’t sought work in the next province out of spite—he’d been pushed out.

“Oh… I get it. That happens sometimes. Too bad, you were the best.”

He straightened his curving spine and drooping tail. “Raash is the best. Raash will always be the best at specialty revivals!”

I grinned, and it wasn’t even an act. It was hard not to like a guy who had pride in his shitty job.

“Everyone says that,” I told him. “They’ll miss you sorely back at Legion Varus.”

“They are lost without my services.”

Right about then, the revival machine farted again. The big mouth sagged open, and I saw some wet scales in there.

“A saurian brother… how strange.”

“Welp,” I said, “that’s my cue to be moving on.”

Raash didn’t pay me any attention. He was busy digging the lizard out of the steaming maw.

I reached up, and my finger flirted with the button on my harness. I almost pressed it, but not quite.

“Hey, Raash.”

He didn’t turn. He was too busy working on his buddy. “What is it, human?”

“Do you like it here? Do you ever miss Floramel?”

He whirled around, his tail doing that clutch and spin thing again. “You dare torment me with her memory?”

“Uh… no, that wasn’t what I meant—”

“Of course I miss her. I lost my job, she lost interest. My tail is broken…”

“Ah, jeez. I’m sorry about that, Raash.”

“Leave. Your every word is an insult.”

“No, no, I mean it. Tell me, what if I could get you out of here, back to Earth?”

Raash gave me a strange look. “You are a primate in a tree. What are you chattering about?”

“Well… look, I’ll give you a piece of friendly advice: don’t go up against Earth with this legion of lizards. You guys are going to lose. It’s a foregone conclusion. You’ll probably get yourself permed, in fact.”

Raash’s head had been tilting to the right, and now it tilted farther. “I understand now. I’ve been tricked. You are not with Armel. You are a committed enemy.”

“What?” I laughed nervously, “that’s just plain crazy-talk. Listen, I’ve got to be going to see Armel now. It’s been real nice talking to you, Raash.”

Raash kept giving me that strange look. The lizard he’d been reviving was still coughing and gargling spit on the delivery table. He was a few minutes away from being aware enough to identify me, so I figured it was time make tracks.

“Human,” Raash said.  “I do wish to go back to Floramel. Show me how this might be done.”

I froze, and he took a step forward, then another.

Raash was a big boy, you have to understand. He was bigger and stronger than I was, but nowhere near as quick. Still, if he got in close…

He pointed over his shoulder then. He pointed at the revival machine. “Look, human! You see the name in red on the list?”

I did, and I froze for a second. The queue said Tribune Maurice Armel—and the print was in bright red.

I began to take a step back, but Raash reached out, making a lunging grab. His move was a clumsy one, but I was distracted, and he managed to clamp one big claw onto my right wrist.

He was in too close for me to use the rifle on him, and I didn’t have a knife or anything. I slammed at his powerful grip, but I couldn’t break it.

Being a trained man, I went a little wild. I tried to throw him, to stab my fingers into his eyes and nostrils, but he didn’t let go. He did a lot of hissing, but he didn’t let go.

“McGill…” he said. “You permed Armel, didn’t you? Was that your plan? To perm me as well? You are a foul assassin.”

“No, Raash. I didn’t want to harm you. Really, you should let me go. Otherwise, things are going to go badly for you in about three seconds.”

Raash did some of that hissing-laughing thing he did sometimes. “Piss yourself in fear, human. I have no fear of death. No pain or discomfort affects me. Only embarrassment can harm the mind of a saurian.”

“Is that so?”

We were grappling, and I was losing. He was trying to pin my other wrist, and I knew I couldn’t let him.

Worse, on the table behind him, I saw the second saurian guard struggling to stand. Soon, it would be two against one.

With no choice left, I reached into my jacket and pressed a button, activating the teleport harness.

-10-

The way home was awful. When you port with someone else, and they’re outside the protective field, it always goes one of two ways.

Sometimes, the trip is a short one. In that case, the person clinging to you as you fall through interdimensional space kind of spazzes and clutches at your body—but that’s it. A few seconds later you arrive, and all is well.

This wasn’t one of those times. This was one of the bad times—when the trip was long and dangerous.

In such cases, the hitchhiker is like a drowning man, grappling with you, hanging on for dear life. But they normally can’t survive. Outside the field, there is radiation, and mind-bending horrors. All the stuff you might imagine if you were to travel through space at speeds exceeding the possible.

Once, I’d given a squid a ride like this. When we’d reached our final destination, he was less than fried calamari—he was ash. Dust, burned away to curling soot stains.

But that was at the end of the trip—the inevitable finish. In the meantime, I had something like five hundred seconds of fun to endure.

Raash was confused at first. I couldn’t see him, or hear him, or sense him in any way other than vague touch—but that was enough to get some idea of what he was going through.

There was a tightening of his grip to start off with. He’d encircled me with those powerful arms. I could tell he was freaked out and maybe afraid—a wise emotion.

As the trip went on and on, surprise and confusion soon gave way to total panic. He tore at me ineffectually, as he was already weakening.

It was weird when people fought in hyperspace, or whatever you called this zone in between one place and the next. You were kind of ghostly, without the same physical properties. That was a good thing, because I figured old Raash might have torn my throat out with his teeth if he’d been able to. Fortunately, he couldn’t do that much, he couldn’t exert that much force. Instead, he felt kind of gauzy, kind of like he was wearing a foam rubber suit as he beat on me and tore at me weakly with his claws.

In the meantime, of course, we were both enjoying the usual unpleasant sensations of this kind of travel. You felt like you had to breathe, but you couldn’t, and it was torture. Raash became wild with fury and desperation.

After a while, his grip weakened, but I didn’t let him go. I clung to him until the last, feeling him die. I was thinking that maybe if his corpse made it to Central in fair condition, he might catch himself a stealthy revive.

It was not to be. When we arrived in the basement, I startled two bored hogs. They stood, drawing their weapons and cursing up a blue-streak.

“What’s the trouble, boys?” I said, looking at them for a moment.

Then, I chanced to look down. Their horrified expressions suddenly made sense.

Raash was a crispy mass of black ash and running grease. He’d kind of melted along with dying in agony.

“Oh…” I said, letting go of the body.

That was harder to do than it sounded. The corpse was wrapped around me, and I had to pry off the rubbery body and clingy fingers. There were still some bones in there, somewhere.

“Who are you, and what the hell is that?” the duty chief demanded.

I explained vaguely, identified myself, and was eventually released. I took the opportunity to snap off one of the best preserved finger-claw-things. I stuffed it in my pocket, and the hogs looked at me in disgust.

“Just a souvenir,” I explained with a jaunty smile.

“You Varus types are ghouls.”

I didn’t bother to respond. Instead, I exited the security station and headed up to the lobby. They’d ejected me in that direction, insisting that I get further clearances to go anywhere else inside Earth’s military headquarters.

Reaching the street level, I gazed around wistfully. It was a nice looking day… too nice.

Checking the date on my tapper, I cursed out loud. “It’s May? I’ve been dead and gone nearly two weeks… shit.”

Heaving a deep breath, I headed for the doors. Hell, I’d been gone for weeks, so one more day wasn’t going to hurt. There were a number of decent places with good grub and better beer waiting just outside in town.

I didn’t even make it down the front marble steps outside Central, however, when my tapper began buzzing. I’d forgotten to wrap it up or anything.

Taking a glance down, I winced. It was Turov.

“Hello Tribune,” I said, answering the call in a cheery tone. I’d already decided not to blame anyone for leaving me in purgatory for so long. After all, I was the one who’d pretty much permed myself.

“James McGill…” she said. “Fancy seeing you back in town? What happened? Did your new girlfriend kick you out?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. If you want to call Maurice Armel my girlfriend.”

That caught her attention. Her face shifted to amazement. “You’ve been out that far?”

I began to explain, but soon she didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Stop talking. Tapper calls can be traced and decoded. We must meet somewhere.”

“I know just the place. Best fajitas in town.”

Eventually, I convinced her to join me at a quiet restaurant in the metro district. She slid into the seat opposite me and watched as I worked on my third overstuffed tortilla.

“Stop stuffing yourself and talk to me, James. What happened out there? I sent you to the docks, and the very first day you vanished. I suspected Dross of doing it herself. I could hardly blame her… but it usually takes longer than a few hours for you to work people into a murderous rage.”

“Usually,” I agreed. Then I gave her the whole story—but I left out the part about Raash. Instead, I focused on Armel and his request to return to Earth.

“Sounds like a trick. How can we trust him?”

I shrugged. “Revive him, talk to him, and make your own decisions. I’ve got his body scans and his engrams in my tapper.”

“Right. Hmm… I don’t like it, but I guess we’ll have to do it. An invasion of random losers from Green World? It sounds absurd on the face of it—but okay, give me the data.”

She held out her wrist for me to touch with mine. I clasped her hand instead.

“What’s this?”

“Uh… I was wondering if you wanted to make a night of it. After all, I solved the case at the docks, and I discovered a plot against Earth. That’s pretty good for a half-day’s work, isn’t it?”

She frowned, but she didn’t snatch her hand away. That was a good sign. She let me hold onto her gently.

“I don’t know… you were gone so long. I thought you were permed.”

“I just about was,” I admitted.

“What about that bitch of yours, Helsa?”

“Who…? Oh yeah, the fuzzy-eared cat-girl. I don’t know, I’ve kind of forgotten about her to tell you the truth.”

Naturally, this was a bald-faced lie. I figured Galina knew that, but a smile flickered on her face. She appreciated the effort.

“Order me something,” she said.

That was it. We ate, we drank, and we spent the rest of the dying afternoon together. We went back to her place in the suburbs after that, and things proceeded very nicely indeed.

About six hours into the night, I awoke with a start. Galina’s slim form stood nearby, pawing at something.

I flicked on the light, and she jumped.

“You’re pawing at my stuff?” I asked her.

“What is this, James?” she asked, confronting me with the burned-up finger. It was big and curved in her hand. It looked like a cooked banana.

“Uh… that’s a souvenir. Nothing special.”

“This is beyond disgusting. Is it from one of Armel’s reptilian henchmen?”

“Maybe.”

She dropped it in the trashcan and went to wash her hands. She made sure she lathered up quite a bit to get the greasy ash off.

After scooping up the finger and hiding it in my jacket once more, I followed her into the bathroom and washed up. I tried to get her interested in another round of fun, but she wasn’t in the mood anymore. She kicked me out of her place after that, and it wasn’t even light outside yet.

Rude.

-11-

Galina was feeling iffy about the idea of reviving Armel, so I knew there was no way come hell or high water she was going to help me revive Raash. Accordingly, I sought out the one person on Earth who might want to help: Floramel

It took quite an effort to get down to see her, as she was a tech director at Central. She’d started off as a tech smith slave, but after working countless projects diligently for a decade, she’d become a trusted member of the nerd teams that did all kinds of secret projects. As if that wasn’t enough, she was model-pretty, kind of weird, and not quite human. The fact that she and I had a questionable past together didn’t help at all, either.

“No, James. The answer is no, and it always will be no. Good night.”

“Whoa! Hold on, girl!” I said, trying to get her not to swipe my face off her tapper immediately. “This isn’t some kind of midnight booty-call.”

“No. It’s a predawn call. That’s novel, but it won’t work.”

“Floramel, let me just say one word.”

She sighed. “You’ve already said a hundred or so… but… what is this one word?”

“Raash.”

Her eyes flew wide. She had a thing going for Raash. It was freaky, and I didn’t want to even think about what they’d gotten up to, but there it was. Apparently, they’d had a falling out at some point—but she still had the spark. I could see it in her big baby blues.

“He’s alive?”

“I can’t say anymore online. Will you see me?”

“James, if this is some kind of trick—”

“No, no—really. I need to see you. We need to talk about it. He… he needs your help.”

“What do you care? You hate Raash.”

“Yeah, well… I might have done him wrong, you see.”

Her face shifted again, becoming instantly suspicious and accusatory. “Did you kill Raash? Again? You did, didn’t you? Damn you, James!”

“Aw, come on. It was a fair fight… mostly. Look, are you interested in this or not? Because I can just dump him right now.”

“You’ve got him? In your tapper?”

“Sort of… Can I come over and explain?”

She sighed again and rubbed her face with the back of her hand. “I know I’m going to regret this… but yes. You can come over.”

“You still live in that apartment in the gray zone?”

“Apartment…? What? Oh, no,” she laughed, and she gave me the address. It was in a surprisingly swanky part of town.

When the autocab dropped me off, I rang her buzzer. She didn’t answer right away, so I really leaned on it. Sometimes these buttons were broken, or—

“James?  I’m right here.”

I turned to see Floramel. She was tall, with long hair and an even longer neck. Besides being pretty, she was as smart as any six physics professors. I smiled to see her again.

“You’re still looking great, girl.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Oh… yes, I’m a few years older.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty.”

Her face clouded for a moment. She’d left the legions, and she hadn’t died since Etta had murdered her. That was years back, so she’d done a little aging. It was nothing to worry about, from my point of view—but then, I wasn’t a woman.

“Come in,” she said, and she opened the metal gate. I slid inside and followed her into her townhome.

It was pretty nice inside. Everything was new, and every component of the house was always talking to you. I hated that, but I pretended to be impressed.

Floramel got us both some coffee, and the dawn was pinking the horizon outside. I sat in the middle of her couch, and she sat opposite me looking kind of wary.

“Tell me the story,” she said.

“I don’t know if I should. It’s kind of top-secret, you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “I direct top secret projects you’ve never heard of, James. Just tell me.”

“Yeah… okay. I was out at Rigel, see, a few months back—”

“Out at Rigel? Are you kidding?”

I squirmed a little. “See? I told you there are things happening you don’t know about yet.”

“Okay, okay, just tell me. What was Raash doing at Rigel? How did he die?”

I looked uncomfortable, because I was. I didn’t really have an angle to play, here. I mean, if she didn’t want Raash to breathe again, it really wasn’t my call to make. I decided to tell her the truth, not fool around with some cock-and-bull story, as it didn’t matter to me what she thought.

“Here it is… and it’s not good. Raash was working with Armel out at Rigel. You know, where he’s running that legion of lizards?”

“I… I’d heard something about that—but it’s saurians, James. You really must remember to use that term. It’s much more polite.”

“Yeah, well, whatever.”

“In any case, I recall that you met up with Armel during the Glass World campaign, didn’t you? And again at Edge World, where he was fighting in the service of the Skay?”

“That’s right. He’s been enforcing Skay Law out there in the neighboring provinces. Anyways, he’s tired of that, and he’s trying to get back to Earth.”

She laughed and almost spilled her coffee. “Good luck to him, everyone here hates him. What was Raash doing with that outfit of renegades?”

“As you know, he’s an expert at reviving large creatures—and running aliens through the machines in general. As you might imagine, his skills are rare, but not in all that much demand. Except for people who have a legion of large aliens…”

Floramel stared at me for a few moments. She seemed stunned. “Raash is working for Armel… that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?” She put her coffee down, put her head in her hands and massaged her temples.

“You okay?” I asked.

“No. I can already guess the rest of it. You were on some commando mission—although I’m surprised I heard nothing of it—and you ran into Raash. He recognized you, then you two fought like you always do… and now, he’s dead.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the story.”

“This is awful, James. Raash made a huge mistake. But won’t they revive him on Rigel? I mean, if he’s one of theirs now…?”

I winced. “There’s one more detail, see. He didn’t die cleanly on Rigel. He ported out with me—holding onto me, as a matter of fact.”

Floramel stood tall and aimed a long finger at me. “You took him for a death-ride? That’s evil!”

“It wasn’t my idea, girl! He latched onto me, like a chimp holding onto its mama, and I had to push the button to escape. It wasn’t like I planned it.”

“Right…” she said, regaining control of herself. She sat back down. “So… he’s as good as permed, isn’t he? He has no body to be found at Rigel, and no body here on Earth… The Skay don’t allow people in their service to be revived without certainty of death any more than we do.”

“That’s right. He’s permed as of this moment. That’s why I came to you.”

“I don’t have a revival machine in my pocket, James.”

“No, of course not. But you do have pull. You’re a big cheese at Central. Surely, you can get someone to do you a favor, right?”

She squinted at me. “No, I can’t. I don’t play that way. I’m not Turov. I do things by the book. I would like to help, but I don’t know how I could.”

“Huh… that’s a damned shame. I guess I’m wasting our time. Sorry.”

Floramel was studying her lush carpet, but I could tell she wasn’t seeing it. She was thinking hard. Just in case, I shut the hell up. Maybe she could come up with something she found acceptable.

At last, her eyes lifted again to meet mine. They were red-rimmed. Could she be crying? Over a frigging lizard? Sheesh. She’d never cried like this over me that I could recall, and I died all the damned time.

“I’ve got an idea. You remember the last time I was revived?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Those people weren’t legitimate, were they? That revival was off the books.”

I squirmed a little. She was talking about the time Etta had gone nuts and killed her, then stuffed her into the trunk of a tram. We’d gotten help from Turov—a connection to a back-entrance group at Central that would do dirty revives for a price. Floramel had never gotten over that experience, and I didn’t think she ever would.

“I remember,” I said in a neutral tone.

“Why don’t you take him there?” she asked.

“Well… uh… I don’t know those people personally. I pulled a few favors myself to get you back and breathing again.”

She stared at me for a moment. “What happened that night, James? The night I died, I mean. You’ve never told me the truth. What made you kill me? What did I do?”

“Damn, girl! I didn’t kill you. I told you that.”

“Okay, okay, then tell me who did do it. Why not tell me the truth? At this point, how could it matter?”

I squirmed on her couch. If I told her Etta had done it, my daughter would be fired at the very least—deservedly so. “I can’t say. I’m sworn not to.”

Floramel looked down and nodded. “That’s what I thought. It was Turov, wasn’t it?”

“Uh…”

“I went back there a few days later, you know. I talked to everyone there. They avoided me, and they tried to chase me off, but I persisted and used my official credentials. Eventually, they admitted to me that Galina was there that night. That she left before the revival process had been completed.”

Oh shit. That thought was bright and sharp in my mind. It was true, Galina had been there. But she’d been helping me out, she hadn’t killed anyone. Not knowing what to say, I swallowed hard.

Floramel nodded as if her darkest suspicions were confirmed. “I owe you, then. Both an apology and a life. It never made sense to me that you’d performed that murder. We were supposed to go on a date. You had everything to lose and nothing to gain by my death.”

“That’s true.”

“So, Galina had me killed… but why? Out of jealousy?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes, rocks are best left unturned. Don’t go poking around under this one.”

She nodded again. “She killed me, or had me killed, then you talked her into reviving me. That witch…”

I heaved a relieved sigh. Floramel had built her own truth, and that kind of truth is always believed, whether it’s right or wrong. Feeling like a fish that’d slipped off the hook, I took a big gulp of coffee.

“You got anything to eat?”

She pointed vaguely at the kitchen. I got up and made myself a lame snack out of yogurt and cranberries and crap like that. When I turned around, I was surprised to see Floramel standing right behind me—standing close.

“I’m so sorry, James,” she said. “I’ve mistreated you and misjudged you.”

“Oh well… don’t worry about it. Say, do you want to go to breakfast? I’m kind of hungry.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

We walked out and made a nice morning of it. After I’d found a hash-slinging diner and downed their four-egg special, I was feeling really good. The rising sun outside the bay window showed the highway at the bottom and the bright, cheery sky above. I was almost glad I’d skipped right past March and April.

“…and we’ll go together,” Floramel said. She’d been talking for a while, but I hadn’t heard much of it.

“Uh… go where, exactly?”

“To the revival place, of course.”

“Oh… oh yeah. We’ll do that.”

“Maybe we should transfer Raash’s body scans and engrams onto a disk, first. That way, it will seem less odd.”

I blinked at her a few times.

“Uh…” I said, because I’d forgotten to tell her something important.

Reaching a hand down under the table, I touched my jacket pocket. Sure enough, a hard, oblong object was still in there. It was greasing-up the interior of my pocket pretty good by now. Just thinking about it made me grit my teeth.

“Floramel? There’s something else I’ve got to tell you…”

-12-

Floramel’s face was filled with both horror and incredulity.

“You have Raash’s claw?” she demanded.

“Yep. Got it right here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that right away?”

“Well, I guess it kind of slipped my mind…”

Floramel chewed me out for a while after that, but pretty soon I stopped listening. Eventually, she got around to the obvious.

“So, we don’t have a real body-scan? His engrams are in your tapper, but what good is a mind without a compatible body to load it into?”

“Not much,” I admitted.

“What are we going to do? We can’t just go down to the backdoor at Central with a million credits and ask for a revive on a burnt alien finger. They’ll laugh us off the property—that’s if they don’t call the MPs.”

“Uh… did you say something about a million credits?”

“Yes. When I went there before—I told you this, weren’t you listening, James?”

“Sure-thing I’m listening! I always listen, girl. It’s just that I don’t remember all the details sometimes.”

“Well, as I said before, I asked what it cost for a revive like the one they gave me. It was an even million credits. Hegemony money only, of course.”

“Of course… damnation.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just that… well, I didn’t know that Galina had spent that much on you the last time around.”

Floramel looked at me oddly. “So, she spent the money? Not you? She must have been feeling guilty, or something.”

“I guess so.”

She looked at me for another suspicious minute. As a cunning dodge, I put on my patented dumb-ass expression and ate everything left on the table. At last, she moved on from this sensitive topic of who revived who and for how much—or worse why it all happened.

“How will we get a body-scan of Raash?” she asked. “I don’t know if it can be done from one burnt appendage.”

“I don’t know either, but I bet you can find a nerd at Central who has the answer.”

She bit her lip, and she nodded. She began to work her tapper again in earnest, and she ordered a big cup of ice.

“What’s that for?”

“The claw, of course. Put it in the ice. You should have done that hours ago.”

“Oh…”

I did as she instructed, and when I went to pay the bill she took custody of the big finger in the cup. I was glad to have it out of my pocket, to tell you the truth.

Soon, we were out on the town again. We were in her car, but she had me drive.

“Should we just head straight for Central?” I asked.

“Yes, we can get help from the labs. I have… a few favors I can call in when it comes to pushing the limits of medicine and science.”

When we got there, the guards in the lobby wanted to search us. That was purely normal, but the thing in her big plastic cup definitely wasn’t.

“I can’t show you this,” she told them. “It’s related to a secret project.”

“Can we at least scan it for hazards?”

She allowed them to scan it, and I was impressed by the whole interchange. These hogs had never given me a break like this. I supposed it was because I was just some random legionnaire to them, not a high-level nerd-herder who worked in the deepest labs.

We went down, down, down into the depths under Central. We took a second elevator about two hundred levels down, then a third at level five hundred—that impressed me all over again.

“I’d heard there were more levels down here! Now it’s confirmed.”

Floramel glanced at me. “Don’t tell anyone, James… but there have always been more than five hundred levels.”

“What kind of freaky stuff is down here, anyways?”

“Things we don’t talk about. We don’t talk about the people down here, either.”

Shrugging, I let her have her little mystery. I figured I’d find out soon enough.

When we did finally get out at around floor minus five-twenty, it seemed to me that the basement was a little warmer this far down. I asked Floramel about it, and she confirmed the sensation was real.

“Every kilometer you descend into the Earth, the temperature and pressure rise significantly. At this depth, we’re experiencing several degrees of heat and increased atmospheric pressure on our bodies.”

“Huh… that’s weird.”

She didn’t answer me, she just kept walking. It seemed like her shoes were slapping on the hard floors for ten straight minutes. At last, she reached a zone labeled as “The Vault”. At least, that’s what the sign hanging from the ceiling said.

True to the name, there was a big round metal vault door nearby. The vault was hanging open, about a meter wide, and a guard sat at the entrance. He eyed us critically as we approached.

“Names?”

We gave our names, ranks, serial numbers, tapper ID codes—the works. The guard eyed me coldly when we were done.

“This man is denied entrance. In fact, you shouldn’t even have brought him down here, Director.”

“He has information vital to a project I’m working on.”

The hog looked at me dubiously. He could tell at a glance I was no scientist.

“I don’t see how that’s possible, but I’m going to let him in on your recognizance.”

“Good enough. Is there anyone else working in the consultation chamber?”

“No. The place is all clear. If you hear any voices, you should run out screaming.” The hog seemed to think this was hilarious, and he huffed out a laugh. We ignored him and went inside.

“What was that about?” I asked her. “Is this place haunted or something?”

Floramel looked at me seriously. “In a manner of speaking, yes it is.”

That was surely an odd response. Curious, I followed her skinny form into the vault. Had she said something about a “consultation?” What did that mean? Was there some kind of freaky-smart AI down here? That would be cool, and I was already thinking that Natasha would be jealous as hell if she ever found out I’d been on this little field-trip.

The interior of the vault was lit with a soft bluish glow. All the corners and crevices were pitch-black, but I could still see some things, and what I saw was alarming.

The place reminded me of an underwater base at the bottom of the ocean. Liquids in clear pipes chugged and gurgled above us. These pipes went back and forth all over the ceiling, crisscrossing everywhere. The soft blue light source seemed to be coming from overhead, beyond those pipes, and as it came through the flowing liquids it became kind of wavy.

There were rows of cylindrical tanks against the walls. These weren’t very big, each one was maybe the size of a party keg full of beer. The tanks were murky inside, full of dark films and oozes. I stepped close to one, peering inside. I tapped on the glass twice, but Floramel caught my hand before I could poke at it a third time.

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed. “Are you a child?”

I pointed at the tank. “I think there’s something in there.”

“Of course there is. These beings are tormented enough. Don’t bother them if you don’t have to. Don’t add anything new to their misery.”

“Huh?”

She walked away, and I followed her, glancing back now and then at the tank I’d been molesting. I thought I saw a little floating movement, but it could have been the flow of liquids in and out.

“What is this place? What’s in all these tanks?”

She glanced at me, and she seemed reluctant to speak. Taking in a deep breath, she finally spit it out. “This is a vault of the past. Central—the people who run it, I mean—they’ve seen fit to keep a repository of various minds they consider worthy of preservation.”

“Minds that are…” I looked around, and a chill ran through me. “You aren’t saying these are people or something? I thought they were some kind of fish-aliens.”

“Most are human.”

“How can they fit inside these little tanks?”

“Extraneous body parts have been discarded. Only the intellect has been preserved.”

“What? Holy hell… are there brains in there? That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it?”

“Not just brains. It depends. Some have heads, eyes. That one you were tapping at has some hair left. Didn’t you see it drifting around?”

I stared at her, then back at the tank. She was right. That movement—it could have been a floating lock of hair.

“Are they dead?”

“They are only partially aware. They sleep most of the time. When a consultation is required, we awaken them.”

“Holy bejesus…”

She led me through the tanks, which lined long twisting passageways, to the back of the place. There, she worked on a computer console. A face came up on the holotank—an entire disembodied head. The man was kind of old-looking. He was balding in front, and he looked at us like he could see us.

“Who disturbs my work?” he asked.

“Holy shit…” I whispered. “Is he in one of these tanks?”

“Shut up, James. Dr. Demikhov? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you. I can see you. What do you want?” the hologram said with a distinct Russian accent.

“I need some advice. You’ve worked on many projects involving medical experiments. Have you ever tried to revive a being without a body scan?”

Demikhov squinted at her, then at me again. “I know you as Floramel. Please call me Vladimir.”

“All right, if it will help—Vladimir.”

“I’m lonely at times,” he said. “It’s always nice to talk to a woman.”

Floramel’s face tightened. She was trying to smile, but she was failing at it. “About my question, Doctor?”

“Yes, of course. Has this creature never been scanned? Can’t you use an old scan?”

“Normally, we could… but he left Earth’s service. He was purged.”

“I didn’t know that,” I interrupted loudly.

They both looked at me.

“Excuse me, Floramel, but who is this person?” Demikhov demanded.

“He’s an assistant. He brought the case to me.”

She began to explain, and as she did so, the weird scientist-head became interested. He seemed to find the problem fascinating. It was surely creepy to me. The finger in Floramel’s cup was less freaky than this dead scientist guy we were talking to.

“A curious problem… it will take some work to grow a body from a small sample. Normally, we scan it while it is complete and therefore filling in the lost parts is child’s play.”

“Of course, Doctor, but what recourse do you suggest in this particular case? Is it hopeless?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’m not the best authority, however. You need a cloner.”

“Cloning is illegal!” I exclaimed. The other two gave me another sour glance, but they didn’t answer directly.

“Speak with Dr. Jianskui. He was a renowned specialist in illegal cloning before the Galactics came along to ruin everything.”

“All right. I’ll try to reach him. Thank you… Vladimir.”

“Floramel, one more thing: if you are successful, I would be interested in studying the process myself.”

She tilted her head and regarded him quizzically. “How so?”

“I’m surprised you don’t see the connection. If you could create a full body-scan from a scrap of material… well… perhaps a person such as myself could benefit from the same procedure.”

Floramel studied him for a moment. Her face was expressionless, but if I had to guess, I’d say she was close to horrified at the idea.

After a few rough moments, she forced a smile. “That would be a wonderful thing. We’ll look into it—if we’re successful.”

The ghostly hologram faded from view. I grabbed Floramel’s arm as she began punching in a new search.

“Who was that spooky guy?”

“That was Dr. Vladimir Demikhov.”

“I know that much. What did he do? Why is he in a tank down here five hundred levels under Central? Did his dog shit on some prime minister’s lawn?”

“He died a long time ago—technically. He was preserved by the soviets in the nineteen hundreds as a possible source of ingenuity in the future.”

My mind and my eyes boggled. “What? The nineteen hundreds? So he’s like… two hundred years old, or something?”

“Something like that. But not really. Think about him as a man who has been revived—in part—but after being dead for a century. He didn’t live for all that time, he was in limbo.”

“Wow… After a full century of being dead, somebody brought that poor bastard back as a turd in a tank? That’s rough. Are you going to help him out, someday?”

“What?”

“You said you would, if we were successful.”

Floramel’s eyes were downcast. “Hegemony would never allow it.”

“You’re probably right. Who’s this next guy? What was his name—?”

“Dr. He Jianskui is my name,” said the new hologram that had swum into view. He spoke with a Chinese accent. “Who wishes to consult with me?”

“I’m Floramel, Doctor. I’m a tech-smith. This man is my assistant.”

Jianskui looked her over, then me. He had a piercing stare.

“I’ve been mistreated,” he said. “I won’t help anyone until a new body is found for me.”

Floramel forced yet another smile. “We’re working on that, Doctor. In the meantime, perhaps you can help us.”

“I will not. You are my captors. You aren’t here to help anyone but yourselves.”

“But this case is related to your own.”

She told him then about the finger and the lack of a body-scan. Like Dr. Demikhov, he quickly became interested.

“Cloning,” he said. “It’s the only tool you have. You’ll have to grow a body from the DNA of the freshest, least damaged cell you have. Then, you’ll have to build up a slurry of stem cells to recreate a simulacrum.”

“A what?” I asked.

“A false life,” Jianskui explained, “a body that never existed before, but which has a basis in genetics. Excuse me, what is your medical specialty?”

The ghostly head was looking at me, and he didn’t look happy. Maybe he’d sensed my total incompetence.

“Uh… I’m sort of a specimen-gatherer.”

“I see. A field assistant?”

“That’s right.”

After giving me an up-down glance of disdain, he turned back to Floramel. “I have described the best medium for rapid growth and accelerated gene-transcription. It is in my archives.”

“Of course, Doctor. But could you go over all that again with me now—from memory?”

He looked almost as annoyed with her as he had with my lame ass a moment before. But finally, he was cajoled into cooperating. He gave Floramel a vomit-load of big words, which I didn’t follow at all. Most of it was chemical formulas and such-like. I soon grew bored and went back to poking at random tanks.

“I have it, James,” Floramel said a few minutes later. “I think we can do this, but we must talk to one more person.”

“Who’s that?”

“A man who’s done things like this recently. A man Central has been tracking closely for years—the Investigator.”

“Huh? The Investigator? He’s out on Dust World still, isn’t he? Don’t tell me Etta’s grandpa died, and you put his head in one of these tanks. She’ll be pissed.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “No, he’s still on Dust World. Could you… introduce us? Etta has always refused to do so in the past.”

“Uh… I guess so.”

We exited the spooky vault after that. I don’t mind telling you I was a glad to leave its long-dead, slimy occupants behind.

-13-

We spent the next hour or so stuffing Raash’s claw in a vacuum-sealed specimen jar. It was pretty cool—literally. It had its own refrigeration unit and dehumidifier built in.

With the remains secured as best we could, we headed to Dust World. These days such an interstellar trip wasn’t quite the ordeal it had been in the past. Rather than paying out your lifesavings for a ticket on a star transport, all you had to do was head for the right set of gateway posts.

Central had more than one Gray Deck—areas reserved for teleportation and the like. In one of them, they had set up permanent gateways that led to every planet under our direct protection. The posts and the power they used were expensive, but they were far cheaper than the fuel a starship sucked up when it went from one planet to another. All-in-all, gateways were a huge money-saver for Hegemony.

After a half-dozen hogs spent a solid hour trying to stop us, we managed to get approval to walk through the posts that were labeled Zeta Herculis. This shortcut took us straight to Dust World, landing us in the middle of a big square inside one of their largest cities. Correction: one of their largest towns. Dust World didn’t really have any habitations that could qualify as a true city.

There were a few hogs guarding the arrival spot. They startled badly when we arrived. Their guns were up and aimed at us, a full circle of four of them. They seemed more than jumpy.

“Oh good, you’re human,” said the head honcho hog. “What a relief. What can we do for you two?”

Frowning, Floramel and I both looked at him in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t we be human?” I asked. “This is the gateway to Earth, right?”

“It’s supposed to be. Just look at what walked out of those posts a few hours ago, over there in the pit.”

I walked over to the pit he’d indicated. It was sort of a garbage dump. Dust Worlders handled their refuse differently than we did on Earth. They tended to put it all into a big hole, sprinkle it with deadly flesh-eating nanites, then cover it over. Nature would then do its work, with a little help from technology.

What we saw in the bottom of that oozing, slimy pit was surprising. It could only be the corpse of giant space-squid.

“A Cephalopod? How did he get here?”

“We don’t know, Centurion. It just popped out of the gateway posts yesterday, and it came at us. We shot it down, as it wasn’t one of ours. It was a wild squid—a renegade.”

“We still have those? I thought all the squids were tame now.”

“Apparently not all of them got that memo.”

I couldn’t argue with him, and I was concerned.

Floramel came near and spoke to me softly. “Come on, James. Let’s get out of here. Take me to see the Investigator.”

“All right.”

Together, we crossed the dusty town into the dusty wilderness on the far side. Soon darkness fell. The town—like all human settlements on Dust World—was located deep inside a vast pit of its own. It was really a canyon more than a kilometer deep.

The open surface of the planet was too hot to survive on. For the most part, it was all one vast desert, but there were a few oasis spots like this one. They came in the form of sinkholes in the crust of the planet—a natural phenomenon which allowed cooler climates to exist at the gloomy bottom.

Sand from the endless, raging dust-storms above us often sifted down into these deep, wet holes, but the direct sunlight never made it down here. That was a very good thing, as the plants and animals below couldn’t afford to be hit by the fierce radiation of the local star. Everything and everyone down here would have been cooked alive. Fortunately, the tilt of the planet and the location of these valleys kept that from happening.

We walked all the way to the north wall of the valley and found an entrance carved into the stone. A glowing pair of lanterns hung there, marking the spot. We walked through and found a warren of tunnels and chambers inside.

Most of the stone-carved homes were empty now. The human population had once huddled inside these stone walls, desperate to hide from raiders like the dead squid we’d seen in the pit back in town. After that menace had been removed with Earth’s help, the inhabitants of Dust World had become braver. They’d moved out into the brighter, more cheery world of the valley floor.

But not the Investigator. I knew he was stuck in the old ways. He rarely came out to walk the valley, except maybe at midnight. He liked the natural quiet of his spider-hole, and he liked his solitude. Down here in the old abandoned shelters he had ample quantities of both.

“This place is spooky,” Floramel told me. “I can hardly believe Etta was born here.”

“Born and raised until she was about ten years of age,” I said with a hint of pride. “She’s a tough girl, I’ve always said it.”

Floramel glanced at me, but then she went back to examining various artifacts that had been discarded by people who had moved on long ago.

“There’s so much junk here… ancient technological equipment.”

“Don’t scoff at it. The Dust World people were free to experiment with science and make discoveries for seventy years after Earth stopped advancing.”

“Yes. Earth was calcified in her development by the Galactics.”

“The Dust Worlders figured out how to manufacture nanites—all kinds of stuff.”

Floramel toyed with a metal box with wires hanging out of it. “Much of their work was deemed criminal until recently, much like the work of my people was.”

I thought about that and some of the things I’d seen the Investigator get up to down here. Earth didn’t know the half of it, and I hoped they never would.

Finally, we saw a wan light up ahead. It flickered out as we approached. Cast again into darkness, we lit our own personal lights up on our tappers, raising our arms high so we could see in the gloom.

“What was that?” Floramel asked me. “I got the impression someone ahead doused a light upon seeing us.”

“That’s very possible. The Dust World people… well, they aren’t always as friendly and kind-hearted as they might be.”

She gave me a strange look then slowed down. Soon, she was walking behind instead of beside me as we advanced deeper into the tunnels. That was a damned smart idea on her part, so I didn’t remark upon it.

When we reached the point where the lights had gone out, I lifted a hand to my cheek and called out loudly.

“Investigator! This is James McGill. I’m here to make a social call.”

For a few seconds, no one spoke. But then the light went on ahead of us again, shining from another dark cave entrance.

“That’s not the same spot that was lit before. James… I don’t like this place.”

“Don’t worry overly much. If he kills us, he’ll probably put us in line for a revive back on Earth.”

“We’re not even supposed to be on this world.”

I shrugged disinterestedly. That ship had sailed long ago. If the girl hadn’t wanted to get into any more trouble, she’d chosen the wrong man and the wrong planet to get involved with.

“Are you truly… McGill?”

That sonorous voice. It was interesting, almost haunting. There was a strong hint of madness in it, just as there had always been.

“That’s right, sir. I’ve come to pay my respects.”

The light shifted, and we realized that the lantern we’d seen as fixed to the wall wasn’t. A powerful, ropy arm held it up high. Had he truly held that heavy light aloft for several minutes, not moving a muscle? It was my impression that he had.

The Investigator was one of the strangest people I knew. He was Della’s father, and he was old. Just how old? Well… he was too old. When I’d last visited him during the Clone World campaign, he’d been experimenting with revival techniques of his own design. It was my impression that he was tinkering with rebirth and genetics in general.

I didn’t have any proof of this, except for the fact he looked more or less the same as he had around twenty five years ago. I didn’t mention any of this to Floramel, naturally. She’d just get freaked out by it all.

“There you are!” I said in a cheery tone, as if we were besties. “Hello, sir! It’s so good to see a family relation again.”

“You would call me a relative? Hardly, McGill. Here on Dust World no one is a kinsman unless they share genes.”

“Well… we share a kinsman then.”

“This is undeniable.”

It didn’t sound to me like he was overly happy to know I was the father of his granddaughter. That had been a sore point between us from the beginning, but I didn’t take offense. I probably wouldn’t choose a baby-daddy like me for Etta, either.

“Sir, can we talk to you about an important matter?” Floramel asked, speaking up for the first time.

The Investigator lifted the lantern higher and peered into her face. “A tech-smith. A twisted abomination, torn from our own genes by force. You profane this place, woman.”

“Hey now—” I began.

But Floramel raised a hand to stop me. She faced the Investigator with a flat stare of her own.

“We didn’t leave this colony by choice. We were taken away from our homes—and we no longer serve the Cephalopods.”

“No. You serve these idiot Earthers instead. It’s sometimes difficult to judge which of your masters has been more vile.”

“Jeez!” I interjected. “What’s bitten you, sir? Have you spent too many years down here stewing and licking your wounds? Etta and Della are both free of mind and spirit. They live among Earthers without a qualm. I can’t talk for Floramel, here, but she seems well-adjusted as well. Maybe you should take a trip to Old Earth, you might just learn something.”

The Investigator seemed to consider my words carefully, he usually did that. “Perhaps you’re right, McGill. I may have worked down here alone for too long, but I have my reasons. Come, I’ll show you something alarming.”

He turned and walked off into a tunnel. Floramel and I hesitated, but then we followed him. The trouble was that I knew this man meant business when he said something was “alarming.” That was code for “freaky,” or possibly something way worse than that.

I really should have suspected what I was going to find. The Investigator… well… I don’t like to speak ill of someone my own daughter was directly related to, but he wasn’t normal. In the head, I mean. Not by a longshot.

Bubbling tanks. That was the first hint we got. The second hint was a dank, swampy smell.

These tanks weren’t filled with water, and they weren’t nice and clean like the ones Floramel had showed me back under Central. Instead, they were filled with brackish liquids, almost mud.

There were eleven tanks in all. I counted them, because I wanted to be sure. They weren’t the same, either. Each had its own size and its own shape.

The biggest of them were shaped like a giant’s coffin. More narrow at the top and the bottom than they were in the middle. They were close to ten meters long.

Then there was the second row of tanks.  These were broader, almost diamond-shaped. It was my impression these stank the worst, if I had to rank them, but I couldn’t swear to it.

The rest were rather small, man-sized down to tiny. The smallest of them was no bigger than a bucket you’d find in anyone’s barn.

Floramel walked between the tanks, eyeing the contents of each. I could tell she was stunned, as was I. But she didn’t freak out. She was, after all, a scientist.

That changed when we got to the smallest tank—the one that wasn’t much more than a bucket. Inside its murky depths was the body of a gremlin. It was the smallest of the creatures of Blood World. Floramel, for some incomprehensible reason, was sweet on these little imps. They were devils with high voices and horrible senses of humor, but she treated them like her own children—maybe because she didn’t have any.

She wiped away a tear as she gazed into that bucket at the floating lump of flesh. I caught that, but the Investigator didn’t.

He was enraptured by his own work. He talked animatedly about his long years of study, of recent mastery, of fascination and obsession.

“It all started with you, McGill,” he said. “I was working on a project of a similar nature when you last visited me. Do you remember?”

“What? Me? What’d I have to do with this particular stack of crimes against every known law of the Galactics and human decency?”

The Investigator turned with upraised eyebrows. “You dare to make an appeal to morality? Seriously? You’ve slaughtered innocent members of every species represented here. I’m recreating them, not destroying them. How can I be the monster?”

I shook my head and scratched at my neck. When confronted with abominations and quandaries, I sometimes got itchy.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, “but this is plain wrong. Are they even alive?”

“Of course they’re alive. They’re mindless, naturally… I’ve kept them in comas for years.”

Floramel released a puff of air. It was as if she’d been holding her breath for the last minute or three.

“What is the purpose of this… experimentation?”

“To learn, of course. Humanity has never duplicated the technology of the revival machines. I’ve sought to do so—but differently. Rather than using an elaborate flesh-printer, I’m attempting to regrow bodies using a more organic process.”

“Huh…” I said, looking them over. “Let’s see what we have here… The biggest tank—that’s a Wur Nexus, isn’t it? And the next in size is a human giant? Like the ones they grow out on Blood World?”

“Precisely. What do you think of my work, Floramel?”

“I hate them all,” she said, “but I’m intrigued. What made you start this work? You said it had something to do with McGill?”

The Investigator flicked his gaze my way, and I met his eyes. We’d never spoken of the day he’d revived me, after I’d fallen from the surface of Dust World down into this very canyon. He’d grown me back to life in one of these turd-tanks back then, and I didn’t like to think about it at all.

“Let’s just say that James needed to be reborn, and I helped him along.”

Floramel looked up sharply. She put her hand on the Investigator’s wrist.

I could have told her you didn’t just go around doing stuff like that, but the scary old man didn’t flinch or freak out. He smiled instead.

“I see the light of understanding in your eyes,” he said. “You’re fascination grows—like mine did years ago.”

Floramel bit her lip, then she asked a fateful question: “Have you ever grown a saurian?”

-14-

With an even wider smile, the Investigator led us to another chamber. Here, there were more aliens. There was a saurian, a Rigellian bear—even a Vulbite. He had collected them all.

“One thing, sir,” I said, “how did you gather all these bodies?”

He scoffed. “I didn’t gather them. I grew them.”

“Yeah, but… from what? You had to have a seed, or something.”

“Yes. Each of them was seeded from samples collected abroad. Dust World may be lightly inhabited, but we have resources. Our nanite production alone brings in a tidy sum of credits every month.”

“Huh… so you like, bought chunks of meat or something?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. Most recently I bought a Cephalopod. It’s only fitting, don’t you think, that I should be experimenting upon them?”

I faked a laugh. “Ha! Sure thing! But if you had a full body to start with… I mean… that’s not as impressive. All you did was throw them into one of these stewpots and hook them up to life support, right?”

“No, McGill. I seeded each of these from a very small collection of cells. This Cephalopod grow, for instance, I just started this one today.”

I thought about the big squid in the dung pit back in town. Suddenly, that weird incident made sense. Maybe he’d paid someone to push the confused squid through the gateway. The hogs had shot him down, sure… but all the Investigator needed was a small sample of living cells…

“Oh. I get it. Hey, Floramel?”

She was right on hand. She had something in her hands, too. It was the iced remains of one sad-sack lizard named Raash. She handed over the vacuum bottle to the Investigator.

“Can you grow a new body from this?” she asked.

The scientist opened the bottle with his leathery hands. He carried it to his instrument tables, which were strewn with equipment that was a mix of both hypermodern and antiquated.

After fifteen minutes, he returned the bottle to us.

“I cannot. The sample has decayed too far. There isn’t a single living cell in the bottle. What did you do? Burn it?”

Floramel turned me a dark glare. I shrugged and didn’t say anything. When a lady-friend was handing out well-deserved shame and shade, I knew it was best to stay quiet.

She sighed. “This was all for nothing. We might as well go back, James. Investigator, we thank you for your time and your hospitality. I hope you learn a lot from your unorthodox experiments, and I promise not to reveal their nature to Central. I recommend that you do the same.”

Crestfallen, she turned away to leave, but the Investigator called her back.

“You haven’t even told me yet what your experiment entails.”

We paused, and after a shrug from me, Floramel spilled the beans. She told him about Raash, how I’d killed him by mistake and the rest of it.

Of course, the part about it being a mistake wasn’t exactly true, but I kept my yap shut.

The Investigator listened with interest. “And this saurian—this alien from a hostile world—he’s your friend?”

“More than that, if you know what I mean,” I said.

Floramel shot me another dose of hate, but I ignored it. If you wanted to go around screwing lizards, well sir, I figured you had to be willing to own up to it.

“Hmm…” the old man said.

He walked with a ground-eating stride. He returned to the tank where he was growing a saurian. “Will this body do? Or are you overly attached to the one your friend had before he died?”

Floramel blinked in surprise. “I… I hadn’t considered this idea. It seems… unnatural. Impossible, even.”

“What?” I asked, not quite getting it.

“He’s asking if we want to revive Raash, placing his mind into this stranger’s body.”

“Can you even do that?”

“Of course,” the Investigator said. “You have the engrams. They’re nothing but a tangle of neural connections. Unless the brain of the original totally out-classes the brain of the new vessel, they should be compatible. Some editing might occur if there are incompatibilities, but it won’t be anything fatal.”

“Incompatibilities?” I asked. “Hey, wait a second… is this body…?”

I reached my hand down into the tank and felt around for a few seconds. I grimaced a moment later and drew my hand back, shaking it so it splattered muddy nutrients everywhere.

“It’s okay,” I said, “this lizard is a male, at least.”

Floramel looked at me reproachfully.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for the guy. Raash wouldn’t be happy to come back a female lizard, would he? I don’t think you’d like that too much, either.”

“I can’t believe we’re even contemplating this,” she said.

The Investigator eyed us both for a moment. “I’m naturally in favor of the idea, as I believe we’ll learn from the results. However, I’ll leave the decision up to you two.” He walked away then, and we were left gazing down into the brown bubbles.

“Well?” I asked. “What do you think?”

“I think you are a moron, James. Just like everyone has told me for years.”

There was some anger in those words—more than a hint of it. I didn’t get upset, however. I could be the bigger man when a situation warranted. “Maybe we could take him somewhere else.”

“Like where? No one can revive a mass of dead, burnt cells. I should have realized this from the start. This entire trip has been a waste of time.”

“Nah,” I said. “You tried to help a friend, it just didn’t work out, that’s all.”

She looked at me sharply. “You’re saying we should give up? We should walk away? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I blinked at her. “Uh… I thought that’s what you just said.”

“No. I won’t do it. Raash—I think he wants to live. I can feel it.”

I looked at her sidelong as she gazed into that turd-tank at the floating saurian body. In my opinion, it was Floramel who wanted things she couldn’t have. 

“Uh… you know, he’s as good as permed right now. Maybe we should leave well enough alone. I’m just saying…”

She heaved a sigh. “I can’t do it. I have to try.”

“What if Raash, like, freaks out when he finds out he’s in another body?”

She shrugged. “Then he can kill himself again if he wishes. At least it will be his choice, not ours.” She looked at me, and she was plain crying now. “Isn’t that the right thing to do? To give him the option?”

Hell no. That’s what my mind kept telling me, but I knew women quite well by now. She wasn’t going to ever let this go, or ever forgive me, if I didn’t let her perform this particularly wicked crime against all that was holy and natural.

Throwing a big arm around her, I faked a smile and gave her a polite hug.

“It’s decided, then. Let’s tell the old man. He’ll be pleased as punch.”

We walked out, but we found the Investigator was already hard at work. He had dragged out a big set of electrodes, some kind of fancy headdress made of wires, and a leather apron with crusty stains on it that were of a questionable nature.

“Uh…” I said. “Were you listening in, or something?”

He smiled. “No. but I’m a student of the mind as well as the body. I calculated you two would go through with the procedure. No one comes all the way out to Dust World to seek my help without being highly committed to their cause.”

We couldn’t argue with his logic, so we followed him back into the main chamber. Floramel served as the Investigator’s assistant, and she did her job with quiet efficiency. You wouldn’t have even known how personally involved she was—not until, that was, they began shocking the body.

When the thing in the tank began to squirm and writhe grotesquely, curling up its limbs in random patterns, she winced every time.

But she never faltered. They worked for hours, loading the mind in my tapper into that poor carcass. Apparently, the Investigator’s equipment wasn’t as efficient as that developed over centuries by the people of Edge World. That wasn’t really a surprise, as his gear was essentially homegrown and almost untested. There were showers of sparks and blasts of stinky bubbles—it was awful.

Still, we dared to hope it would work in the end.

-15-

After the lengthy loading process, the body in the tank finally stopped squirming around in agony. That was a sheer relief for Floramel.

The Investigator, however, was frowning. He kept prodding at the floating lizard, as if he expected it to stand up and sing hallelujah.

“What’s wrong?” Floramel asked in concern.

The Investigator didn’t answer her.

She waited a long moment or three, then she sniffled. That was the first sign of grief she’d displayed all night.

I knew what the trouble was right off: She’d figured out the procedure hadn’t worked.

I was ahead of her on that score. I gently took her by the elbow. “Come on. Let’s get some air outside. Let the Investigator do his work.”

She flinched at my touch, but she didn’t pull away. She let me guide her toward the exit, walking backwards. Her eyes never left that dirty tank, and there were tears welling up at the corners.

Good job, McGill, I thought to myself. Due to my efforts, the poor girl was experiencing her loss and grief all over again. Sometimes, false hopes were worse than none at all. I should have just left well enough alone.

As we were about to leave, the Investigator suddenly straightened and looked around for us. “Where are you going? McGill, are you on yet another campaign of fornication? If so, it’s poorly timed. This is a critical stage in the process. Please unhand my assistant.”

Floramel pulled away from me and took six steps toward the Investigator. “You mean… the saurian might live?”

“Of course he’ll live. Gaining a mind has never been fatal to anyone.” Then he gave a dark look. “Well, with our present company excepted. Come here, please. I need your help.”

Floramel rushed to his side. It made me chafe to see it. After all, what did that damned lizard have that a proper human male—such as myself—lacked?

Thinking that question over in my mind made my lips twisted up in disgust. I didn’t want to know.

Walking up to the edge of the tank, I peered inside. The two spooky scientists were shocking the water again—or rather, they were zapping the lizard floating in the middle of the tank.

“Good… adjust the gain and repeat.”

“Is this an analog control, sir?” Floramel asked in shock.

“Yes. Experimental equipment requires a highly variant set of inputs to do these tests.”

“Yes, but…”

“Please increase the gain. Make slow, steady increments.”

Floramel examined the knob in her hand. There was a dark line on it, and some ridges to grip it better—but that was about it. There weren’t any numbers or anything.

“I have no idea how much to turn this knob. There are no markings, no indicators—”

“If I knew what the correct increments were, I’d have no need of your hand on the knob. Nudge it about five percent of a full revolution at a time—and do that slowly, with care. We’re trying to see where the sweet spot is.”

“The sweet spot?”

“It’s an old Earth expression,” I told her.

Floramel gave me a baffled look, but she started working the knob. As she did so, the lizard twitched now and then. As she turned the knob slowly around the poor body wriggled with increasing frequency and vigor.

But no matter how much she twiddled that knob, the Investigator kept gesturing for more juice. Soon, Floramel and I were both wincing.

Then, all of a sudden, the tail splashed up into the air. It slapped on the side of the tank, making a loud banging sound and sending a spray of disgusting fluids all over the place.

“Aw, Hell!” I complained, backing away from the tank and brushing at my soiled clothing.

Floramel stood her ground, however. She kept working the knob and squinting through the occasional showers. I stayed well back, admiring her dedication from afar.

At last, the lizard did stand up and salute—well, not exactly. He kind of had a conniption, flapping his limbs and lashing his tail around so hard he rose up and came down hanging half over the side.

“Continue! Continue!” the Investigator roared.

Floramel, with her shoulders hunched and her eyes all squinty, twisted the knob—but I think she slipped this time. She really goosed it.

I saw a crackle of electricity, and I heard a pop. A wisp of steam rose up from that awful liquid, and then… the mindless lizard rose with it.

He surged up, then flopped down over the side, falling on the stone floor. It became dark with fluids, and there was plenty of snot and blood included.

Wriggling in obvious agony, the creature shivered and squirmed. The Investigator stepped forward, extending his hands toward the pitiful beast on the floor between us.

“Have you ever seen the like? After all my years of work, my achievements continue to amaze even me. Never have I managed such a vivid simulacrum of a non-human life-form.”

“That’s it?” Floramel wailed. “After all that effort and torment? You’ve created an idiot that exists only to feel the agony you afflict.”

The Investigator straightened, and his smile faded away. He looked at us both reproachfully. “What did you expect? A genius of the arts, perhaps? You gave me an engram to imprint onto the jellied brains of some random beast from Cancri-9. I’m a scientist, not a miracle worker.”

“Come on, Floramel. Maybe we should go.”

“That’s all you can think about? Taking me away from Raash?” she demanded, turning on me and venting.

“Uh… that’s not really Raash. It’s a tortured monster.”

“The Investigator is right. Your motives should always be suspect.”

She turned and ran out of the caverns into the harsh Dust World winds.

Sighing, I turned back to the Investigator and the sloppy mess we’d made on his stone floors. “So that’s it? The best you could do was get this lump of meat to twitch and jump around a little? That’s a shameful thing, Doc. You should do better by Floramel. She’s a sweet woman.”

“Admonishments? Dismissal? I suppose I should expect nothing better.” After saying this, the Investigator proceeded to ignore me while he continued his work. He prodded the lizard and shocked it some more, but it had stopped moving once it had flipped up out of the tank onto the floor.

Disgusted, I walked away to find Floramel. I searched the catacombs, then the cooling rocks and the windy night outside. It was pitch dark, and she wasn’t running any of her body-lights.

Frowning in concern, I lifted up my hands to my face and called for her. I bellowed until the walls of the great canyon rang with my voice.

Nothing came back to greet my ears. Sighing, I consulted my tapper, got a bead on her whereabouts, and marched off toward the lake in the middle of the valley.

Every inhabited mud puddle on Dust World had a swampy body of still, deep water in the center of it. These pools were dangerous, infested with ravenous rockfish and worse.

At the swampy edge of the water, I found Floramel sitting in a clump of reeds. She was despondent, more so than I’d ever seen her since we’d slaughtered her gremlins back on our old transport, Legate.

“You okay, girl?”

“No. I’m not okay. I let my hopes and fantasies get away from me. I blamed you for this—but I shouldn’t have.”

I moved up slowly and sat beside her. “You really loved that old lizard, didn’t you?”

“Yes. He also loved me, as no one else ever has. For all his flaws, his emotions were real.”

That stung a bit. I liked Floramel. I’d had a thing for her for years. We’d had some good times, and we’d slept together off and on. But love…? I wouldn’t use that word.

The trouble was, I was such an old soul—and not in a good way. I didn’t have much innocence left in me. I’d been living and dying at random for longer than any man was ever meant to. Sometimes, a man who’s wandered the stars for decades became callous about the feelings of others. That was the way things were between Floramel and I.

I patted her lightly, making sure not to grab her or hug her or anything. For one of her kind, such a move indicated carnal interest, and I was trying to play the gentleman.

“Do you want to go back to Earth, now?”

“I don’t know. My work at Central all seems so clinical, so—”

Just then, we hear a wailing cry. It was long, weird, and full of pain. It warbled and moaned for perhaps ten seconds before suddenly ending.

We both stood up and looked back over our shoulders.

“That came from the Investigator’s cave, didn’t it?” I asked.

“I think so.”

“You don’t think…?”

Floramel was already running. I could have stopped her or tried to talk reason into her, but I didn’t bother. I just trotted after her instead. Whatever had happened, I knew she was going to have to see it for herself.

-16-

A big blue stood over the Investigator, who was a bloody mess on the stone floor. Saurians came in lots of colors, but usually they were kind of tan or light green. Not this bad-ass lizard. He was as blue as a summer sky.

“Raash?” Floramel asked. “Is that you?”

The lizard turned toward us. His muzzle dripped gore. The Investigator wasn’t moving. He had to be dead or at least unconscious.

“This creature is not Raash. It cannot be Raash. My… my scales are not right.”

“That’s who you are to me, Raash.”

“What is this place? Who is the ghoulish human?” Here, he pointed at the mess on the stone floor.

“That used to be the Investigator,” I said reproachfully. “He’s a genius. A man who worked tirelessly for years to bring your sorry carcass back to life. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Raash turned his head from me, to the bloody Investigator, then he extended a claw toward Floramel. “You. I recall you. I once called you my mating-toy.”

“That’s right. That was your pet name for me.”

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t polite, but I was kind of irritated and grossed out. This lizard… sheesh.

“Do you remember me, Raash?” I asked.

He steered those odd eyes my way. He cocked his head to the left, then the right, the way a parrot will look at you with one side of his head then the other. He took two steps toward us.

Floramel shrank back, moving behind me, but I stood my ground. I wasn’t happy about this development. Here I was, duty-bound to protect her, after she’d gone and upset her weird lizard boyfriend. Maybe we’d kill each other—it wouldn’t be the first time. What an unpleasant predicament.

“Look, Raash,” I said. “We worked so hard to revive you. Why aren’t you grateful?”

Raash stopped advancing. His eyes glittered in the faint light. “I remember now… things are returning to my mind. You are the human that stole my breath, my life. You took me from Rigel, and you burned me to ash!”

“That’s exactly right! You are remembering stuff.”

Raash’s eyes were strange. I couldn’t tell if they were focused on me or Floramel for the moment. Probably, it was neither one of us.

He was remembering things, I could tell. It was like a flood for him, a rude awakening. He put his claws to his head and lifted his snout high. I thought he might crow like a rooster or something.

“Raash?” Floramel said from behind me. Her voice was gentle but full of pain. “Raash, you’re having a mental break. It will pass. The revival… it wasn’t professional. It was the best we could do for you.”

“Not professional?” he demanded loudly. He took another step in our direction, and his hands came away from his head. He grasped at the air, flexing his claws over and over as he spoke.

I’d never seen a lizard go crazy before, but if there had ever been such a case, I figured this is what it had looked like.

“Where is my body? This one… it is taller. The tail is longer, the arms are slightly less thick… and the scales… blue scales? I’m a freak.”

“You’re a freak?” I asked. “Why? I mean, most saurians I would classify as freaks just on principle, but—”

“Blues are rare and they’re laughed at. I’ll never find a mate like this.”

“You have a mate, Raash. I’m your mate.”

We both looked at Floramel. She had dared to peep out from behind me. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

“Madness…” Raash said. “I feel… wrong, somehow.”

I glanced at Floramel. “Maybe he means it. Maybe if you stuff one man’s mind into the brain of a stranger, it doesn’t fit right.”

“Have you seen a case like this before, James?”

“Never.”

Raash was walking in circles, tramping right over the poor old Investigator. His claws left prints in the man’s flesh, and his tail rasped over him like a scaly fire hose.

The Investigator moaned again.

“He’s alive! Raash, stop walking over him, you crazy lizard. He gave you life.”

“Then he deserves death for such a poorly done job.”

Raash stooped over the Investigator, and I’d seen enough. I picked up a block of fallen stone, walked up to him and bashed him down.

Most lizards are pretty tough. Raash was no exception, but he went down anyways, collapsing to the rough stones. Maybe he’d been weakened by his amateur-hour revive.

I held the rock in my hand, and I bounced it up and down a few times. It was as big as a softball and five times as heavy.

“Should I finish the job?” I asked Floramel.

“I… I don’t…”

“No…” this last voice came from the floor, but it wasn’t emanating from the throat of Raash. Instead, we realized the Investigator had spoken. “Don’t harm my masterwork.”

We helped the Investigator to his feet and sprayed him with some Nu-skin. He winced and hissed, but after a few minutes his only critical injury was his left arm, which seemed broken in two places. There were plenty of crescent-shaped bites taken out of it as well.

“Raash is a wild one, is he?” the Investigator asked when he could speak.

“Not really,” Floramel said. “This streak of violence is out of character for him.”

The old man scoffed, but he didn’t argue. “You begged for his creation. He’s your responsibility now.”

We helped the new, blue-scaled Raash onto his feet and led him out of the place. He was kind of floppy and groggy, but he could walk well enough. That was a good thing, because he had to weigh a hundred and fifty kilos—maybe more.

We took him outside under the night sky. There, I let him down on the dusty ground and sighed.

“We should probably just kill him, Floramel. It would really be for the best.”

“What? Never!”

She crouched and spread her hands over him.

“Jeez, girl. He almost killed the man that brought him back. He doesn’t like being a blue. Maybe we can record him, like, and take his remains—”

“You’re just blowing smoke up my ass,” she said stubbornly. “Isn’t that the correct idiom?”

“Yeah, well. I guess it is… look, girl, we can’t take this wild renegade back to Earth. He’s dangerous, crazy, and a traitor to boot.”

A strange smile came over her. “No he isn’t. He’s unknown. Any scan of his flesh will show no history. No citizen of Earth or Cancri-9 has ever matched his DNA. As far as Hegemony knows, he’s innocent and nameless—a fresh immigrant.”

“Huh…” I said, chewing that over. She was right. There would be no record of this crazy lizard. His crimes had been erased by switching bodies. “Say, that is an interesting angle. If a man wanted to get away with murder, for instance…”

Floramel watched me. She was still hovering over her lizard boyfriend. Damn, if she’d shown a tenth as much interest in me, maybe we’d still be together. It was kind of insulting in a way.

“What do you want to do?” I asked her.

“We’ll take him back. We’ll sedate him if we have to. We’ll take him home, and—”

“Home? Are you talking about your place?”

“Where else? You don’t want him sleeping on your couch down in Georgia, do you?”

“Hell no. He’d eat the cat or something.”

We both looked him over. After a time, Raash released a big hiss and stood up. He swayed and eyed us in the starlight.

“I was attacked. Why?”

“Because you went shit-off crazy, you dumb lizard.”

“Hmm… I wonder if I’m a bad-grow. A twisted thing. A mind that doesn’t fit into this discolored body.”

“That could be. You want me to fix it?”

Raash looked at me sullenly. “I have no desire to burn to ash in your clutches again, McGill.”

“Hey now! There you go! You know my name, and that’s a clear improvement. Maybe that dormant organ inside your skull is starting to function again.”

“Insanity.”

We turned and walked toward town. Raash followed us like a lost puppy.

“We’re just going to walk into Central like nothing is weird about this, huh?” I asked.

“Isn’t that how you’d do it?” Floramel asked me.

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

We had a minute or two of trouble getting past the hog guards at the gateway posts.

“We’re not supposed to allow off-worlders to walk through to Earth this way, Centurion.”

“What? You mean like Dust World people?”

“Uh… not them. I mean real aliens.” He nodded meaningfully toward Raash, who was doing that strange, crowing-rooster pose again.

“What? Him? He’s just feeling poorly. He ate a few of those rockfish, see, and it’s affected his mind, slightly.”

“Rock-fish? Aren’t they toxic?”

“Only if you’re human. For a saurian—well, let’s just say that it’s like drinking a bottle of Tequila—and swallowing the worm.”

The men shied back from Raash, who was walking toward the gateway posts determinedly.

“Make way!” I called out. “Make way! Let’s make him somebody else’s problem.”

The guards fidgeted with their rifles, but in the end they let us pass. They muttered something about not saying anything to their counterparts on the far side, and we were gone.

Just like that, we were zapped and unmade. A few moments later, our bodies were reconstructed back on Earth.

-17-

Back home on Earth, we had lots of explaining to do. Fortunately, three things helped out: For one, Floramel was a lab director. That was a pretty big piece of cheese for any hog guard to oppose. Second, I was a centurion from Legion Varus. We were known for strange goings-on. No one inside Central, the official hog capital of Earth, hadn’t heard of us. By reputation, we were the very agents of the Devil when it came to oddball off-world missions and the like.

Thirdly, there was Raash himself. No one wanted to mess with him. He wasn’t just a huge, thumping reptile—he also looked a bit crazy. He just had the feel of someone you didn’t want to mess with.

Thinking their best move was to pass us on to the next set of officials in line, the hogs let us ride the elevators into the depths of Central. Floramel took us to her lab, where workers gathered around and stared with interest.

One of these white-coat-wearing nerds hung back. She was taller than the rest—except for Floramel herself. She didn’t watch Raash, she watched me instead. She clutched one of those clipboard type computers to her chest and eyed me with suspicion.

As soon as I was fairly sure Raash wasn’t going to go berserk and kill all the softies, I walked over to the girl in the back and gave her a hug.

“Hey, baby-doll! How’s the prettiest girl in Central doing today?”

“Really, Dad? A saurian? A wild saurian with no records, no—?”

“Look, look,” I said, dipping my head down close to her ear. “Don’t fret about this guy. He’s okay. He’s just had a rough revival, that’s all. He’ll be fine by morning. Just see for yourself tomorrow.”

Etta slid her eyes in my direction. “A rough revival? He’s clearly in shock. And why is it we don’t have any record of him?”

“He’s from Cancri-9, girl. Cut the lizard a break.”

“He’s not in any of their databases either, Dad. I already checked with the deep-link connection to my computer, right here.”

She indicated her clipboard, but I didn’t even look at it. I just kept grinning and bullshitting for all I was worth. I would probably have had no trouble bamboozling any of the other lab-monkeys, but my daughter Etta was a different breed. She’d grown up living under the roof of the certified king of bullshit, and as one might expect, she had an excellent lie-detector built right into her skull.

“Dad, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on? Are you trying to get into Floramel’s pants again? Is that what this is all about?”

“Hey, hey. That’s just plain rude, girl. Besides… I think she might have a thing for this new, blue-skinned fellow.”

Her eyes flew wide. “What? Another saurian fetish? It’s been years since she—that’s so upsetting. Look at him, he’s got blood on his snout and filth everywhere else.”

I shrugged. “Yeah… he could use a good hosing-down.”

“Okay, okay—I don’t even care. Just forget about this cold-blooded creature. We’ve got bigger troubles, anyway.”

“Uh… we do?”

Etta eyed me strangely. “You’ve heard about the attack, haven’t you?”

“Uh…”

“Come on, Dad. You haven’t been covering up your tapper again or anything, have you? I figured that’s why you were back in town. I heard your legion was called back to service.”

That last sentence of hers made me wince, but I tried to be carefree. “I’ve been working down at the docks in the Harbor District, actually.”

Etta frowned. “The Harbor District? That figures. That’s where the trouble started. One of those big ships—the really big, monster ships the size of a town—one of them blew up last week.”

I scratched a finger on the back of my neck. It was beginning to feel kind of itchy. “You don’t say? That is strange. I wonder what’s going on down there.”

She stared at me and shook her head. “Wow... You really do know what happened, don’t you? All right, all right, keep your secrets. If Floramel isn’t eaten or something tonight, maybe you’ll get a date with her after all.”

I frowned at my daughter. She was getting to be more disrespectful with each passing year. Some would say that was due to appearances. At this point, what with all my frequent revivals, she had to be nearing thirty, while I was maybe twenty-five years of age. That could be very confusing for a father-daughter relationship.

But there was something else that came to mind. My father had warned me this day was coming. He’d insisted for years I should have tanned her hide more often when she was a kid, but I hadn’t listened. Not listening to good advice was a general failing of mine at all times and in all places, but in any regard, it was way too late to fix Etta. She was what she was.

I sighed, gave her a hug, and left. Floramel never even said goodbye. She didn’t even wave back at me. Her eyes were fixed on Raash. I hoped she was happy. She had her pet lizard back, and he was being well cared-for. If he ate any of her lab-rats down here, well sir, it would be on her head, not mine.

Trying not to trot, I left quickly and high-tailed it for the street-level. I almost made it to the first bar I spotted—but not quite. Somehow, my tapper had finally located me, and it alerted everyone who’d been looking for me lately. That turned out to be quite a list.

“McGill?”

It was my tapper speaking to me, and the face looking up into mine wasn’t the pretty kind. It was Graves.

“Hello, sir!” I said in a cheery tone. “You must have figured out that trick about forcing calls to be accepted by an underling’s tapper. Congrats.”

“Where are you…? Central City? You’re right here in town? Did you know you were marked as missing down at the Harbor District? Everyone had you counted as permed. How did you get out of that massive explosion?”

“Uh…” I said, thinking of Lenny and all his friends back on board the Sea Empress. “That’s a real funny story, sir. But I need to tell it to Tribune Turov. She sent me on the mission herself, see.”

“Hmm… then you’re not heading in the right direction. About-face and march, soldier. Turov is in her office at legion headquarters.”

I sighed. Graves was like a professional cock-blocker when it came to keeping a man from a well-earned beer.

“All right, sir. McGill out.”

A few more pesky people tried to contact me, but they were small-fry. People like Natasha, Leeson, and even Carlos sent me texts and calls. I let my tapper buzz and beep without even glancing at it. Sure, they were probably stunned to have their commander back, and my unit’s officers were no doubt freaking out about the surprise muster back to duty—but I didn’t care all that much.

I’d just run around three or so different star systems, died a few times, and generally been mistreated by everyone. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to petty problems these people should be able to solve on their own.

Back at Central, I took the elevator up from the lobby. I was whisked up to a floor in the mid-three hundreds—brass territory. I don’t mind telling you I was in a sour mood. It seemed like I couldn’t catch a break today.

True to form, when I walked into Turov’s office I met up with some more of my least-favorite people. Her assistant, an adjunct named Gary, was there with his hands up and waving. He was trying to calm an unruly crowd of centurions and a primus or two. They were all trying to get in to see Turov.

“There will be a briefing first thing in the morning,” Gary told them. “Take residence at the barracks downstairs if you need to—and no, there won’t be any reimbursements for anyone who rents a hotel.

Sour grumbling broke out everywhere. I couldn’t say as I blamed them.

“Just tell us what the hell is going on, Gary. Does anyone know?” one ornery primus demanded.

Gary shook his head. “Briefing tomorrow, sir. After that… you’ll probably be deployed to the Harbor District.”

“What? That’s a hog’s job. This is a cluster-fuck of the first order.”

Gary shrugged. He really didn’t care much. He was Turov’s eye-candy, and he’d never been paid for his brains or his compassion.

“Sirs, I’ll see you all in the morning.”

They turned away and left after that, complaining about everything, even the ornate décor. Turov had always liked her gold-leaf embossed doors and her thick carpets. These extravagant details never failed to irritate the mid-level officers who noticed them.

When the last of them had slouched out the door, I slammed it behind them.

“Damnation!” I said. “What a surly lot of babies, huh? You’re just trying to do your job. You’d think they’d know that.”

“What do you want, McGill?”

“Why, to see Turov, of course.”

Gary twisted up his lips and shook his head. “Didn’t you see me herd away that pack of wolves? What makes you think you’ll do any better?”

He’d asked the question, but I didn’t bother answering it directly. After all, we both knew that Turov and I had a “special” relationship of a “questionable” nature. That’s how things had been for decade or more.

“Uh… did you know she sent me on a special mission to the Harbor District?”

He blinked at me. “What? You mean that bullshit about the missing persons? That was just to punish you for… something. She was laughing about it last time she mentioned it.”

My face darkened, but I didn’t fly into a rage. I had a reputation and a natural tendency to react aggressively when I was disrespected like this—but I held back. I was proud of that.

Taking in a deep breath, I forced a new smile. “Gary… did you notice how the Harbor District pretty much exploded just a few days ago?”

“I sure did. My tapper is crawling with news and notifications about it.”

“Right. Did you also notice that the ship that blew up… was the one I was investigating? At the very moment of glorious ignition, no less?”

Gary’s face fell, and his mouth sagged low like he was one of my unfortunate relatives. “You were aboard the Sea Empress?”

“That’s right.”

“When it exploded? Taking all hands and fifty billion credits worth—”

“Gary, I need to make my report to Turov. It’s kind of urgent, see?”

He blinked a few times, then he nodded and shook himself. “Good God, man. Why can’t you perform this kind of destruction out on some other planet?”

“Usually, I do. The explosion was… unfortunate.”

Gary announced me then, and after a full minute of quiet, the door clicked open. Galina didn’t poke her nose out, or even crook a finger at me. She just opened the door and left it ajar.

“Wish me luck,” I told Gary.

“Luck, McGill.”

-18-

When I got inside, I saw Galina had a pistol in one hand, and a glass of wine in the other. Her eyes were two angry slits.

“Uh… hiya, Tribune. Centurion McGill, reporting back on an assignment well done!”

Nothing about her demeanor changed. She was still glaring, still sipping her wine, and still propping up her finely-shaped rear on her desk.

I put on a dumb-ass expression and waited patiently.

“A job well done?” she asked at last, in a deceptively quiet and calm voice. “Is that what you call the devastation you’ve created, McGill?”

“Uh… well, I don’t rightly know about all that. See, I teleported out before there was any kind of explosion. What I was talking about was the case I was on. The now solved case involving the disappearances of both equipment and personnel. You’re gonna laugh when you hear—”

Galina threw her wine glass at me. That was kind of a surprise. A rude one. The glass shattered on my tunic and purple liquid ran down all the way to my shoes.

“I’m going to laugh, am I? Do you know how much cargo you destroyed, McGill?”

“Gary said something about fifty billion credits, but I didn’t believe him.”

“And well you shouldn’t. It was a full hold, they were just beginning to unload it. Total estimated losses came in at just over a trillion.”

“Wow! That is some fancy number-crunching. But you know, they probably padded things to rip off the insurance people.”

“This is a government, McGill. We’re self-insured.”

“Oh yeah… What’s self-insured mean?”

“It means that we’re screwed.”

“Oh… well, I guess the newsfeeds were kept in the dark about these big numbers, huh? At least that’s a good thing.”

“The truth was covered-up, yes, as always. But here at Central people know the real price tag. Do you know who they’re pinning the blame on? Can you guess?”

“Hmmm… That’s a poser. I can’t even think of anyone.”

“That’s right. It’s going to be me, and you, and Legion Varus—in that order. You’ve ruined us all, McGill. You finally managed to achieve total destruction of our reputations and livelihoods. That ship and its contents were worth more to Earth that two or three legions our size.”

“Huh… that does seem to classify as a crying shame, sir. You want to hear the details of my report now? Or do you just want to shoot me in the face and get it out of your system?”

She toyed with her gun for a while, but at last she shook her head. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Sighing, she walked around to the far side of her desk.

I started talking, telling her my story, but I could tell she was only half-listening. I prattled about heading down to the docks and meeting up with Dross. She didn’t even perk up when I described meeting the crewmen and finding out they were in on the thefts.

While I talked, she brought up a news report with full video of the explosion, shot from multiple angles. She flicked it from her desk to the wall behind her, where it played in high def. The explosion, when it came—well damn, it was impressive.

The big ship I’d been aboard simply blew apart, starting deep amidships. The thick puff-crete hull split open on both sides. The explosion flowered outward with a gush of wild flame and smoke. Soon, the whole dock was consumed in fire, as was the warehouse. People ran every which way, but it didn’t look like many of them made it.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “How the hell did that even happen?”

“You want to know the only reason you’re not a stain on my ruined carpet right now? It’s because I’m holding onto the faint hope you might tell me the answer to that exact question.”

“Ah… oh. I don’t rightly know, sir. Here’s what I do know: the crew was using a casting device to suck things out of the big containers and transmit them away. It was the perfect crime until I figured it out. But before I could arrest anyone, I got into an argument with about thirty of the ship’s crew, see, and—”

“And then you blew up the fucking ship?”

“No, sir! Not at all! I escaped, that’s all.”

She stared at me. She pointed a thin finger at the repeating explosion on the wall behind her. “How did you get out of that inferno?”

“I… I used their bootleg casting device. I got into the beam, and I ported out. Just like the gear they were stealing. I was sent out across the cosmos to their secret warehouses.”

Galina’s mouth was hanging open now. Not as far as Gary’s had been, mind you, but it was happening.

“Where did you go?”

“To Green World.”

“What?”

I reminded her about Green World. She had forgotten about the place, as it had been years since we’d sent anyone out there, and we didn’t have the direct coordinates to go there on our own. The last few times I’d been there, well, events had turned messy.

“Here, let’s have another glass of wine,” I told her, pressing a fresh glass into her hand. “My trip to Green World was just the beginning. This is kind of a longish story.”

She took the glass sourly and sipped it. She still had that pissed-cat look going on, but there was a hint of curiosity as well. “There’s more to this cock-and-bull tale of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, sir, there sure is. Now, some of these details might sound a little sketchy, but I assure you they’re as true as the Gospel on a Sunday morning.”

Galina released a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t believe a word of this if I hadn’t seen footage of you entering that ship, and now arriving back here without a scratch on you. Teleportation is a valid excuse, but every microsecond of your story is highly suspect. For example, how is it these scruffy crewmen managed to have a casting device? The mere existence of the technology is top secret.”

“That’s truth, sir. But they had the device, all the same.”

“To perform relatively petty thefts? Why? If you have a casting device, you have the cash to just buy whatever you need.”

“Maybe, or maybe not. I saw a lot of interesting stuff. Most of it was military hardware, supplies, ammo, etc. Even survival gear and spacer suits.”

She frowned at me and stopped the video of the big explosion that was playing on a loop behind her. That was a sheer relief, as I was getting kind of tired of it.

She paged through various documents until she came to some of the original reports from Station Chief Dross and her agents. It was a compilation of missing items. She stared at the list, flicked through it with her fingers, and frowned while she studied the missing items.

“This does seem like an interesting collection. What would you do with all this stuff? Supply an expedition into the Arctic? Go on a hunt for big-game aliens?”

“Something like that. I think the gear is meant to be used in reconnaissance missions, maybe.”

“Recon? By whom, and for what purpose?”

I shrugged. “That part isn’t clear yet. I do have a witness, however, who might be able to shed some light on the topic.”

She stared at me for a moment. “Is that why you and Floramel brought back that freak lizard pet of hers?”

“Uh…” I said, surprised she already knew about Raash.

“What is it with that girl? Why can’t she ever have a human boyfriend?”

“I don’t rightly know. But anyways, that guy isn’t the one I was talking about. I have another companion.”

Galina paused her paging through the reports again. “Another person? I don’t believe it. I looked through all your records, McGill. Those generated since your mystical return show no one other than Floramel and her pet.”

“That’s right. The other guy—well, he’s kind of dead, see.”

“What?”

I lifted my tapper arm and woke it up with my finger. “That’s right. He didn’t make it, so I copied his engrams and a body scan… here it is.”

She ignored my uplifted arm.

“What is this? Another revival scam? Who is it this time—your uncle from the swamp who died of sheer stupidity?”

“Huh? Oh… no, no, sir. This is an important person. Someone you probably will want to revive and talk to.”

“Who?” she demanded.

I smiled, knowing I had this fish on the hook.

“It’s none-other than Tribune Maurice Armel.”

For the second time in the span of a few minutes, Galina imitated my patented look of dropped-jaw astonishment.

-19-

“How did you get Armel’s scan?” she demanded.

I shrugged. “He gave it to me, see. Out at Rigel.”

“When?”

“Uh… three or four days ago... I think. Time is kind of blurry when you switch planets a bunch.”

She stared, then she blinked. “I’m not getting something here, McGill. You claim you were teleported out to Green World where you found a massive warehouse of stolen goods. Right?”

“Several warehouses, actually.”

“Great, whatever. How did you end up going from there to Rigel? According to our best estimates, the two planets aren’t even close.”

“No sir, they aren’t. Judging by dead-reckoning, I’d say they are somewhere between five hundred and a thousand lightyears apart.”

“Okay, so how did you make that trip?”

I squirmed a little. This part of the story had elements I didn’t want to reveal. For example, the part where Abigail had found me on Green World and shot me dead. That would both make Galina want to kill Abigail, and it might reveal the fact that I’d known all along the Clavers were involved in this fiasco. Galina might take a dim view of everything I’d already said if she knew that part.

“Someone shot me on Green World. Shot me dead.”

“Who?”

“I don’t rightly know,” I lied. “I was sneaking around, looking at the contents of the various warehouses, when I—”

Galina appeared to be paging through something privately on her desktop as I talked. Suddenly, she squawked and snatched up her gun again. She’d set it aside on the desk over the last few minutes, and I was hoping she’d forgotten about it.

“You lying bastard! I just found this in your body-cam files.”

She flicked the table, and the wall behind her lit up. There was Abigail, talking to me inside the Green World warehouse.

“Oh yeah! I remember now, I did meet Abigail out there, and we talked a bit.”

“Shut up. Stop spouting your filthy lies, or I won’t be able to keep from shooting you.”

“Um… okay. Sorry.”

“Shut up. Let me think.”

Galina paced around a little, tapping her pistol on her cheekbone. “I think I get it. At least some of it. The Clavers are helping to fund this illicit expedition, or whatever it is you discovered. Somehow, she captured you and sold you to Rigel. She’s tried that before, and I can hardly blame her for it.”

Deciding this story worked better than the truth, I sheepishly confessed she was on the right track.

“Okay then, we’re getting someplace. Your files were transmitted to Rigel, where you ran into Armel, yes?”

“That’s exactly right, sir. I was revived by Armel. He told me he wanted out of his mercenary contracts. He wanted to come back to Earth and serve here again.”

Galina snorted. “As if! Why would that fool dare to dream we would take him back? Why would he even want to return to Earth?”

“Well sir, he said something about believing Earth was going to win the coming conflict in the end.”

Galina blinked at me. “What conflict?”

I shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. It sounded like a rebellion, a revolution, a government coup—I don’t know. But it was something big, and Armel didn’t want any part of it.”

“Hmm… stolen equipment, a monstrous explosion in the harbor, possibly done to cover up this scheme, and now Armel wants forgiveness? All right, McGill. It does seem unreasonable to pin the entire explosion and subsequent fire on your back. It’s tempting, mind you, but it just doesn’t fit the facts. It’s not like you were caught at the firing controls of a ship’s broadside cannons again.”

“Not at all. I was nowhere on Earth when the Sea Empress blew up.”

She nodded. “Okay. This is good. We might be able to shift the blame off my legion’s back. It’s going to be up to us to find this Green World, track these thieves down and destroy them, if only to make up for the losses at the harbor.”

“A reasonable point of view, sir.”

She began to pace, and that made me watch her movements. Soon, I began to get ideas, but I couldn’t see any path to success. Not tonight, anyway.

“Go find some of your nerd friends and get them to track down where Green World might be. While you’re doing that, muster out your unit. Alert them that a mission is incoming very soon. With luck, you’ll have some accurate coordinates by morning.”

“Uh… coordinates, sir?”

“Yes. Dammit, McGill! Were you not listening again? Legion Varus must take out this nest of pirates on Green World. The brass here doesn’t want excuses, they want scalps, and it’s up to us to find some to give them besides our own.”

“Okay, but why am I getting the unit ready for action?”

Galina rolled her eyes at me. “You’ve been out to this mystery planet more than once, so you’re the obvious choice to spearhead a commando raid.”

“Oh… great. What are you going to do in the meantime tonight, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She gave me a suspicious look. “I’m not going to be entertaining you, if that’s what you’re hinting about.”

“What? I’d never suggest such a thing.”

“Of course you would. But it’s out of the question. I have a serious job to do, and it will probably take all night to finish it.”

“What serious job is that?”

She looked surprised, like I should know what she was thinking already. “Why, I’m going to revive Armel and torture him until I’ve extracted everything he knows about this farce, of course.”

“Got it. Good luck, sir…”

I left in a hurry, as she was busy and in a bad mood. When your officers are feeling itchy, it’s best to get out of the way.

Using my tapper, I alerted all the goons I could from my unit. The adjuncts were the key, along with certain noncoms. When a sudden summons went out over the grid, some of our people were known to hide for a bit. Technically, without a stated planet-wide emergency, they were allowed seventy-two hours to report in. Some of them abused this stipulation, playing hard to get for the first sixty or so of those long, long hours.

I didn’t want any of that crap tonight. Each member of my supporting staff was charged with keeping tabs on their direct underlings. It was kind of dirty, but our optional human-tracking apps were on our tappers for a  reason. Personal calls, unit-wide announcements, activation-bonuses—we would use every tool and trick in our arsenal to get the troops to report by morning.

Unsurprisingly, Leeson and Harris were the biggest complainers. In the end, they fell into line and turned their frustrations into motivational chewing-out sessions for the troops below them. It was a process that was as old as time itself.

With that effort put in motion, I headed for a bar and had a few. After that, I contacted Natasha.

“Hey, girl. I see by your tapper you’re in town.”

“Yes, Centurion. Most of the unit is in town. We were given our summons when the harbor blew up—this isn’t related to that, is it?”

“What? No, no, no. this is a social call. Why don’t you come down to the Mongoose on seventh?”

She looked up at me warily. “You want me to come drink with you? It’s Wednesday, James.”

“Is it? Doesn’t matter. We’ve got something important to talk about.”

“Like what? You’d better not be talking about your—”

“No, no, no. Nothing juvenile like that. I’m talking about finding a very important place. A place where you died once. Back when you were lost in time and space… I’m talking about the planet where you were permed.”

She stared at me, blinking in confusion. “I was never—oh. You don’t mean Green World, do you?”

“Shhh! Hush, girl. Come on down to the Mongoose, will you?”

Natasha hesitated, but it didn’t last long. She was as curious as a housecat in a pet store.

“All right. I’ll be there soon. Don’t get drunk before I show up, or I’m turning around immediately.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

I ordered two more drinks, and by the time they showed up, Natasha was walking in the door. It was nice to have friends with predictable interests and habits.

-20-

Natasha absorbed her drink and my story with equal interest. I told her about Green World and the smuggling and how I’d ended up out there. I didn’t bother to mention some of the less savory details, such as killing Raash and then later reviving him on Dust World with Floramel. That wouldn’t have gone over, as the two women didn’t like each other much.

“So… you really think this smuggling group is behind the explosion in the harbor? You think they’d perform such an act of insane vandalism just to cover their tracks?”

I blinked at her. Natasha was pretty naive for a Legion Varus girl. She still thought people were better than totally selfish bastards—or at least that some of them were. I didn’t bother to set her straight, I just shook my head and pretended to be sad.

“It’s a crying shame, isn’t it? But it makes sense to me. Whoever it was who ran the op probably figured the secret would get out, so they blew up the ship and the entire crew. That way, they might be able to keep pulling the scam later on when things quieted down.”

“Huh… it’s all so horrible—but what can we do about it?”

“We can find Green World, that’s what. If Legion Varus can find and target these hooligans, well sir, we can bring down some righteous vengeance.”

“Okay… now I see why you contacted me. I was out there, at one point. On Green World, I mean. As far as I know, Central never bothered to make a big effort to find the place, as we later beat the Cephalopods in the war without hitting them there. But there are clues.”

“Damn straight there are!” I said slamming my drink down and beckoning for another to a bored-looking waiter bot. “Uh… what clues?”

“For starters, we can triangulate using the various reported jump-times from different locations. That will give us a general idea of Green World’s vicinity. Then, we’ll have to start looking at each star system and eliminating them one by one. I’ll need all your tapper recordings from out there. Immediately.”

I hesitated. “Why’s that?”

“To gather data, James. A simple spectral analysis of the sunlight will probably be enough to rule out most star systems. We might be able to isolate the target with just that much information. If not, I’ll combine all the data on the local atmosphere and weather. We might not be certain which world it is, but I can at least build a list of likely planets.”

“Uh… that sounds great. You want another drink?”

She shook her head, and I tossed over all the data she asked for, tapper-to-tapper. She got up and left then, and I looked after her in sore disappointment. I’d shared a beverage with two women in two hours, but both of them had been too busy to give old McGill a second glance.

Sighing, I stood up and paid the tab with the waiter. 

“A gratuity is customary, sir,” the robot had the gall to tell me.

This kind of pissed me off. These robots were from the Pegs, just like all the other advanced AI around. The Pegs were still recovering somewhat after half of them had been eaten and converted into cyborg minions for the Skay.

That was all well and good, and I wished them the best, but their morality since those dark days had slid to the bottom. They now sold machines that played on people’s feelings and such-like. Sure, this new breed of bot was supposed to be funding the rebuilding of their planet, and that was a good cause and all, but still… having robots ask for handouts got me angry.

“You’ve got no kids to feed,” I told the bot. “You’re just going to give that extra cash to the bar! Scram!”

The robot huffed and rolled away. I knew the game. The robots fleeced dumb humans, and that’s why the businesses bought the robots. None of that money was going home to 51 Pegasi—except for the price of the begging robot itself.

Walking out of the place, something caught my eye and stopped me at the door. Was that a flash of reflective blue out on the street? A metallic glint that I’d seen before?

Throwing the door wide, I charged out onto the sidewalk.

Raash already had hold of Natasha. She was bent back, helpless in his big leathery arms. He had her by her jacket, and those claws were digging into her back.

Natasha wasn’t much of a fighter, but she’d been in Legion Varus for a long time. She kicked and stabbed at him with a small sharp object. It could have been one of those stylus-things that convert into a weapon with a flick of the wrist.

Raash took the stabbing without much of a reaction.

“You are McGill’s woman. I shall leave you stained and dead, as he did to my greatest love.”

That was all he got out of that dribbly snout of his before I caught up and launched on him. I hadn’t shouted any warnings or threats thus far. Instead, I’d just pounded pavement until I was behind him.

My combat knife was out, and I pressed it against his thick hide, near the spine. I made sure it cut in a ways, so he could feel it.

Hissing, he dropped the girl and turned around. “McGill! You are so easy to manipulate. You make a poor agent for Earth.”

So saying, the scaly bastard shoved a shock-rod into my face. I tried to cut him, but I lost the use of my limbs. Soon afterward, I lost consciousness.

* * *

I woke up on the pavement, gasping for air. My lungs barely cooperated. Old Raash had stunned me good.

A few patrons from the bar were walking past, glancing down at me and tsking. They shook their heads, rolled their eyes and a few looked like they wanted to spit.

They all thought I was drunk, of course. There wasn’t much pity to be had on the street, and I couldn’t talk yet, so I strained to look around me.

Natasha was gone. Raash was gone. There was no one and nothing I recognized nearby.

A few minutes went by while I struggled to regain the use of my tingling limbs. Before I had recovered, a cop wandered by. Maybe someone had alerted him.

At this point, my limbs were operating at half-power, but my lips were still rubbery, as I’d taken the full shock right in the kisser.

The cop bent over me and looked amused. “I thought you legionnaires could hold your liquor. I guess you had a little too much of the hard stuff tonight, huh starman?”

I slurred something out, but it was unintelligible. That was just as well, because he wouldn’t have liked it if he had caught my words.

“All right,” he said. “I can see you’re waking up, and you haven’t pissed yourself or anything yet. How about I give you a break tonight and you keep walking? You want me to call you a ride or something?”

I managed to shake my head “no”.

The cop shrugged and shook his head. He turned away to walk off, but I reached out a long arm and hooked his ankle.

Now, under normal circumstances, a man might expect to tug away from a drunk’s fingers. After all, to his mind I was too far gone to speak.

The truth of the matter was the fingers of my right hand were still rubbery. The stun-gun had left some parts of me numb—but my left hand was doing pretty good. I caught him with a solid grip and didn’t let go. As a result, he took a header and landed on his face.

The cop got back to his feet, snarling. His good-natured joshing was forgotten, and he had a nightstick in his hands quicker than I would have credited.

“All right,” he said, “I’m a fool. I was trying to be the nice guy, but I should have known you’d be trouble.”

He didn’t just start whacking on my thick skull. That’s what I kind of expected, but I was still lying down, looking messed up. He walked around me warily and reached for my wrist, whipping out a pair of gravity cuffs. He got one of them snapped on, too, before I could stop him. He knew his business, I have to give him that.

Unfortunately for him, a gravity cuff on just one of my wrists was worse than useless. I immediately turned it into a weapon and whipped it around to crack him a good one on the temple. He sprawled, and I sat up.

He tried to get up again, but I gave him a hard time, pushing him back down.

“Sorry,” I managed to croak out. “Girlfriend… kidnapped.”

The cop wasn’t in the mood for talk, and I couldn’t blame him for that. He struggled and fussed, but with each passing second more tingling sensations came back into my thick arms. As I was a trained fighter, he didn’t have much of chance.

“Sorry,” I repeated, my voice clearing up a little. “Really, I need your help.”

The cop was on his face, which was bloody, and he was panting. He was a few pounds over the limit, and I calculated that he’d been skipping his morning jogs more often than he should have. As a result of his poor physical condition, he was running out of gas.

“Is this your way of reporting a crime?” he asked me from the pavement.

“Yeah. I’m not actually drunk, I was hit with a stun-rod and my girlfriend… she’s gone.”

“You’ll let me up and submit to arrest if you know what’s good for you, McGill. Yeah, I know your damned name. The gravity cuff reads tappers, you know.”

“Huh? Really? That’s a neat trick. But look, I can’t take the time to get arrested and all that. I need to find Natasha.”

“Natasha? Specialist Natasha Elkin?”

“Yes, that’s exactly right.”

The cop heaved under my knees. I was kneeling on his back by this time to hold him in place, so he collapsed again, gasping.

“You freak!” he wheezed. “She’s dead! This is all some kind of legion thing, isn’t it? A hazing ritual gone wrong?”

“Dead? Where?”

“Just up the street three blocks, hero. You probably did it yourself, didn’t you?”

I heaved a sigh and put him out. With a murder nearby and me knowing the victim and all, there was no way any wannabe hog cop was going to help me find Raash. He’d probably put me in a cell and bury me with interrogations and such-like. I just didn’t have time for that kind of nonsense right now.

A few bar patrons thought about helping the cop, but all they did was circle around us at a good distance, filming it all with their tappers and calling for more police. This wasn’t my lucky day.

Taking a chance, I lifted the cop’s pistol and used his numb thumbprint to unlock it. Then I set off at a pace that was half-trot and half-stagger. I headed in the direction he’d indicated Natasha had breathed her last. With luck, I’d find Raash before the cop’s buddies found me.

-21-

It was a close thing, but I made it to the murder scene before any more police showed up. It was a district cop versus city cop thing that saved me. Murders were district business, while drunks were the city’s problem. Sometimes, details got lost in the layers of communication between the two forces.

A circle of police bots were on the scene. They were cleaning up what was left of Natasha. I ignored all that and examined the crowd. Picking out a portly man with a bald head and a nervous look, I grabbed his arm and spun him around.

“Did you see what happened?” I demanded.

He shook his head, looking up at me with a white face.

“The cops say you can identify the killer. Was it a lizard? A blue lizard?”

The man looked shocked. “How did you know that?”

“We’re not all idiots.”

He looked me up and down. “You’re a cop? That’s a legionnaire’s uniform.”

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me which way he went.”

The guy pointed into an alley.

“Why didn’t you tell the cops that?” I asked him.

The man shrugged. “These aliens—you can’t cross them. They travel in packs, you know. You should get out of here too, before his friends sniff you out.”

I let go of him and headed down the alleyway. It was dirty and full of fire-escapes. I could tell I wasn’t in the nice part of town any longer.

After a hundred meter dash, I saw nothing but a random maze of pathways. There were backdoors, apartments, and businesses on the bottom floor of every building. Everything was dark except for the seedy bars. The trail was cold, and I’d lost him.

Cursing, I activated my tapper and called Floramel.

“What’s wrong, James?”

“I’m hunting for Raash. Help me find him.”

I took a few precious seconds to fill her in on recent events. She sounded appalled.

“He… he murdered Natasha?”

“Looks like it. I think he’s a bad grow, and I’m going to have to put him down.”

“Wait, we haven’t scanned him yet. He can’t get another revival if he dies again now.”

“Come on, girl. He’s like a crazy serial murderer loose in the city.”

“Don’t perm him, James, please. We went through so much effort to bring him back. It would all be for nothing.”

“Yeah… all right. I’ll give the peaceful approach a try. Just tell me where he would go in this part of the city.”

She read the address, and she gave me some directions. Apparently, I was close to the Gray Zone of the city. That was the area where all the aliens lived. It wasn’t a slum—not exactly. It was more of a no-go zone for humans.

I was walking straight and confidently by this time. I’d shaken off the effects of the stun-rod. I headed directly into the Gray Zone, and I was all out of smiles today.

The first encounter occurred at what looked like a private pool. It was dark, with all the lights turned down to a dim, cold, bluish color. That was weird enough, but what I saw next was more disturbing. Big dark shapes were swimming in the pool.

“Squids?” I said, standing on the edge of the water.

A tentacle snaked out of the water and touched my shoe. It looked like it was tasting me.

“Piss off, squid,” I said loudly.

The big alien emerged. Water ran down off his leathery skin and a few nasty eyeballs studied me.

“A human… are you a gift, perhaps? A meal arranged by my comrades?”

“That’s right. I’ve got some ketchup for you, right here.”

I pulled out the cop’s gun and waved it in the squid’s direction. He inked himself a little and withdrew.

“Armed and aggressive in our part of this city. No sense of humor. I’m going to have to report you to the council.”

“You do that. Right now, I need you to answer a few questions. I’m looking for a lizard. He’s a rare blue color, about yay-high.”

I described Raash, and the squid listened in a surly fashion. “I assure you I haven’t seen any such vertebrate, but similar beasts dwell in the building to the southeast.”

He splashed up a mess with one extended tentacle, pointing at a building a block or so away.

I made the gun vanish again and trotted off. Squids were easy to cow, but if they thought they could get the upper hand on you, they’d do it in an instant. It was best to get moving while the getting was good.

When I arrived at the apartment building, I was surprised to realize I recognized it.

Long ago, when I’d first met Raash, it had been in this building. He’d lived near Floramel, and he’d been stalking her.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I was puffing by the time I reached the correct floor. I had to break in a few reluctant smart-doors, and by the time I found the right apartment there were alarms and things going off everywhere.

“Raash?” I called, standing in the splintered doorway. “Raash? I know you’re in here.”

A figure moved in the bedroom. I walked in and saw an odd sight. Raash was lounging on the bed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him.

“Preparing to die. I’m composing my death poem. Do you wish to hear it?”

“Your what? No, I’m not much of a poetry fan, I’m afraid. Look Raash, you’re the most obvious bad-grow I’ve ever encountered, so I’m willing to give you a break. Let’s body-scan you and then we’ll revive you again… somehow. Things should go better the second time around. Let’s hope, anyway.”

I got out my pistol and aimed it at his head. Raash seemed disinterested.

“I have achieved vengeance. I have bested you and killed your woman. I can die in peace, and I want no revival.”

This troubled me enough that I paused before shooting him. “What? You don’t want a revival? You’ll feel better the second time around, I can almost guarantee it.”

“No, foolish human. I’m not a bad grow—not exactly. My mind has been twisted by my suffering. If you were to bring me back, you’d only get a Raash that was even more angry with the universe.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

“Because you have lost my body. We saurians aren’t like humans. We hold our bodies in great regard. They are temples to us—they are gods, and we worship at their feet.”

I laughed. “A neat trick. How do you kiss your own toes?”

He glanced at me and lifted his upper lip briefly. Then, he turned over on his side as if he wanted to go to sleep.

“Get on with the killing, human. I tire of this lifespan.”

“No thank-yous, huh? We went to hell and back to get you breathing again, you ungrateful reptile!”

He turned back and regarded me. “Why do you torment me with lies?”

I told him the story then, the full story of all the work Floramel and I had gone through to get him a new life. He listened, baffled. I showed him some vids, and he believed me.

“This is strange. I understand the female, to some extent—but not you, McGill. Did you do all this in hopes of mating with Floramel again?”

“What? That makes no sense. If I wanted her, I sure as hell wouldn’t bring your sorry tail back to life. I’d leave you dead and gone, then make my move.”

Raash sat up. He nodded his head. “That would be a superior strategy,” he admitted.

“So, now do you believe we cared about you—or at least that Floramel did? That we brought you back not as a cruel joke, but as a great service for an old friend?”

Raash looked troubled. “I… I’m surprised.”

“What you are is one ungrateful, cold-blooded dick of an alien. I never worked so hard to keep anyone breathing in my entire life. You even killed Natasha, for crying out loud.”

Raash hung his big alligator head. “I… I’m shamed. I should not breathe this stinking air of Earth. I’m not worthy.”

I rolled my eyes. I was about two seconds away from giving this lizard his fondest wish and going back to Floramel with a sob-story about how it had to happen.

“What can I do to make amends?” he asked suddenly. Just like that, he looked up at me, and I’m no judge of lizard expressions, but he looked contrite to me.

“Uh… can you help us find Green World?”

“Treachery against those who employed me? That is the price?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it—”

“Very well. I will do this service. I will not die my final death with a great debt upon my scales. I would not want to live in the spiritual realm with such a burden.”

“Uh… okay, whatever. Let’s get out of here before the cops come find us. We’re both wanted men, you know.”

Raash agreed, and although I didn’t trust him as far as I could spit, he behaved himself as we made our way back to Central.

-22-

Natasha came out of the revival machine hopping mad. I couldn’t blame her for that. After all, she’d been murdered on the streets by a crazy blue lizard.

When she rejoined Floramel and me down deep in the labs, she lost it when she discovered Raash was right there, sipping a fizzy drink and telling us where Green World was.

I’m a man who can generally forgive and forget a death, but not everyone is so easy-going. Some people even hold grudges. From Natasha’s point of view, Floramel was a rival for my affections, while Raash—well, girls tend to dislike their own killers. It’s only natural, I guess. They often took violence more personally than the guys tended to do.

“James,” Natasha said between gritted teeth, “if you ever want a favor from me again as long as I live, you have to kill that horrible reptile right this instant!”

“A favor, is it?” Floramel asked, unwisely interjecting herself into the situation. “What do you gain from performing these ‘favors,’ Specialist Elkin?”

Natasha turned and approached her. She had one finger up and wagging. “You too, alien freak! You’d best just stay away from me and my legion! You and Raash are both freaks!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I said, standing up and waving my hands for peace. “Let’s take it down a notch, ladies. This is no way for two professional women to behave.”

“I can’t just calm down, James. This reptile terrorized and murdered me. Why are you allowing him to keep breathing?”

“Well… normally I wouldn’t, but—”

“False,” Raash said loudly. He’d decided to speak up for the first time, and he’d picked a bad note from the get-go. “You could never have defeated me, human. Only my state of depression has brought me to this labyrinth of treachery and evil.”

“Look, everyone here has been unfairly killed at some point, am I right?” I asked them. “This is the time for apologies and forgiveness. Raash old buddy, why don’t you go first?”

“Go first? Doing what?”

“Apologizing, that’s what. You do know about such things, right?”

“You demand that I grovel?”

“No, no. Just tell the nice lady here that you’re sorry for killing her. You are sorry, right, big guy?”

Raash looked at Natasha for a second. She’d crossed her arms and was looking kind of pouty, but she was listening.

“My only apology will be to my former masters. Just by being here, cooperating in this cabal, I’m performing an act of treason against them. This is a dishonorable act, and I only hope that when I sleep the final sleep, I will be forgiven.”

“That’s it?” Natasha asked incredulously. “That’s his apology?”

I shushed her gently. “He’s got a different culture, girl. Have some respect.”

She huffed at me.

Floramel seemed unimpressed as well. Her literal mind had been triggered by Raash and his odd viewpoint. “Your statements are nonsensical, Raash. You’re not even dead at the moment, much less permed.”

“It is only a matter of time. Half of my essence is already missing—the physical half. My body is not my own. It’s an obscenity.”

“Why?” Natasha asked. She seemed curious despite herself.

“Does this heinous shade not scream dishonor? I’m the color of water—or the sky. No member of my clan could wear a skin of this hue without shame.”

“What?” I asked. “Hold on, what’s so wrong with blue? It’s a nice color.”

“Only the lesser beasts of my planet can be born with this shade. You should know this, McGill. You fought on Steel World long ago.”

“Huh? Oh… yeah.” And I really did remember what he was talking about.

There were two sentient species on Cancri-9, better known as Steel World. One race was made up of raptor types, like Raash. They were smarter and more humanoid. The others… well, they were straight-out dinosaurs. Big monsters with lots of teeth and huge skulls.

“You’re telling me that there aren’t any saurian raptors that are blue?”

“No. It’s a slave-color. A lesser being deserves this shame. I’m disgusted by my own scales, and I’ve never been so artfully humiliated.”

“Well now, I don’t think the Investigator did it on purpose. It was an honest mistake, I’m sure. He’s never been to your planet, see. He’s never met your people. All he had to work from was some scraps of DNA.”

“This revelation deepens my disgust and depression. If true, you’re suggesting my body is a melding of flesh between two species—one higher, and one low.”

“Oh…” I said, and I stopped talking. I figured he was probably right. The Investigator loved to tinker with cells and genetics. He might have done damned-well anything to the lump of meat that Raash was walking around in right now before we animated it with Raash’s mind.

“If you don’t like your skin,” Floramel said, “perhaps we can dye it, or maybe scan you, do some genetic work, and revive you again.”

Raash put up a set of splayed claws. “Please don’t. I’m a pathetic mutant already. I wouldn’t want to deepen the agony of my soul with further unspeakable alterations to my form.”

Natasha watched all this with growing interest. She was still pissed, mind you, but she was also becoming intrigued.

I knew right off what the story was. She was a sucker for new tech. We were talking about tinkering with genetics, and that had her radar up and humming, I could tell.

Immediately, my fertile mind generated a helpful idea.

“Say Natasha, I get it. You want out, and I totally understand how you feel. I won’t blame you one bit if you do an about-face and march right back to the barracks. We could really use your help, of course, what with all these new ground-breaking discoveries going on—but if you’re too bitter to put aside the unhappy memory of Raash’s mood-swings, well—”

“He frigging murdered me, James!”

“Yes, yes—we all know what happened. But we’ve established that Raash feels real bad about that, don’t you, big guy?”

Raash shrugged. It was one of the human mannerisms he seemed to know best.

“So that’s my apology? Seriously?”

“James,” Floramel said, “let her run off. She’s out of her league. How much help could she provide? She’s not even an officer.”

Natasha’s face had been red before, but after this untimely comment it down-shifted to purple.

“James…” she warned. “If you want to continue being my friend, you’ll tell me what’s going on here. If I leave now I’m gone forever.”

I hesitated. It’s been my instinct and life-long practice, when someone lays down an ultimatum, to step over that line in the sand immediately. But this time we really could use Natasha, so I sighed.

“Okay, you have some catching-up to do. Let me explain what’s going on.”

I proceeded to fill her in on about a hundred important details. I told her about my investigation, my little trip off-world, and how I ran in to Raash and Armel—the works. She was dumbfounded by the end of it.

“So… this saurian is an illegal revive? A walking Galactic crime?”

“Well… sort of. No one knows about it, so that’s like it never really happened, right?”

“No James, it’s not the same at all. At least four people know the truth at this point, and that doesn’t even count the Investigator. What if one of us blabs?”

“No one will, girl! That’s just not going to happen. Who here would want to tell the Galactics something that could get the Earth permed?”

Raash raised a single claw. “It might be an improvement for the universe. A final benevolent act of atonement for me.”

“Shut up, Raash,” I told him. I looked back at Natasha and pointed a finger through my palm in Raash’s direction. I lowered my voice to a loud whisper. “He’s a bad grow, and he knows it. If we can just recycle him, see, I bet he’ll come out right as rain afterward.”

“Your fantasies will not come to fruition, deceitful human. I will not permit it.”

Natasha wasn’t looking at either of us. She was pacing, and she was staring at the deck. Her hair, still wet from the revival chamber, dripped on the floor now and then.

“A non-standard revival system…” she said, almost to herself. “That’s amazing by itself. It’s one thing to duplicate a technology—it’s quite another to recreate an effect without using a well-known methodology.”

“That’s right, girl!” I jumped in, cheering her on. “The Investigator’s turd-tanks are so cool—aren’t they Floramel? We humans are frigging geniuses!”

Natasha looked up at me, but I could tell she wasn’t listening. Her eyes had that far-away look. I had no idea what she was thinking about.

“I want you to take me out there, James,” she said suddenly. “To Dust World, I mean. I want to see the tanks for myself.”

“That might not be—” Floramel began, but I stood and waved for her to shut up.

“Sure thing, Natasha. If you could just help us out a little first though, huh?”

Eventually, I got Natasha settled down and working with us. We didn’t magically transform into some kind of well-oiled team, mind you. Floramel didn’t care if Natasha lived or died, and Raash kept making unhelpful comments. Still, I now had two of the finest minds available working on the problem of finding Green World. To my way of thinking, things were looking up.

As the work became increasingly technical, I soon got bored and fell asleep. The two women woke me up around five-thirty in the morning. I yawned and stretched, rubbing at a kink in my back. I’d been sleeping on some kind of metal lab stool, with my head on a chemical-stained table.

“We’ve found it,” Natasha said excitedly. “At least, we think we did.”

“That’s great, ladies. Where is it?”

The two women looked at one another. They looked haggard and their eyes were like two holes burned into blankets—but they were happy. They’d figured something out. Something big.

But I also knew they weren’t entirely happy with their findings.

That’s about when a big sharp claw poked me in the back. I turned to find Raash looming over me. His breath was foul—something like sardines mixed with garlic.

“You slept like a dead-thing,” he told me. “I could have slain you a dozen times over. The temptation was almost overwhelming.”

“I’m glad you managed to control yourself, Raash. You’re really pulling it together, man.”

I clapped him on the shoulder and walked over to see what the girls were excited about. Raash followed me, puffing his hot stinky breath onto my back. Sometimes, aliens didn’t get the whole thing about personal space.

“Let’s see what you’ve got. I can tell by the look on your faces, it’s good news!”

“I’m afraid not,” Floramel said. “Green World appears to be deep in a neighboring province.”

“You mean at the frontier?”

“No, in Province 928.”

“Uh… the one controlled by the Skay?”

The women nodded. “Exactly.”

“Hmm… that sucks. We can’t go out there without causing some kind of interstellar misunderstanding.”

“A violation of treaties,” Raash said. “A diplomatic crisis worthy of rekindling the war of succession between the Skay and the Mogwa. This is what you’re contemplating, McGill.”

I nodded as I looked over the charts. Raash was right. I was contemplating kick-starting a fresh interstellar war.

-23-

The team wrapped up all their data and gave it to me for delivery. None of them wanted to go upstairs with me, they were too chicken to present unpleasant facts to the brass.

I sent them to bed in the barracks, as they all looked bushed. Then I headed up the elevators to Turov’s office first. She wasn’t there, of course. She wouldn’t be in until around seven or so.

I had the codes to get into the offices, and I used them. This wasn’t any kind of violation as I was an officer in Legion Varus, and I was allowed into the headquarters at any time.

The couch inside looked pretty good. I’d spent more than a few hours napping on it, over the years. But just before I bedded down for an extra hour of shut-eye, I stopped myself.

“Hmm… this just isn’t a Turov-level crisis.”

Heaving a sigh, I realized I was right. Instead of waiting around for morning, I went back to the elevators. I rode up and up some more, gliding ever higher inside the massive building. When I got to damn near the top of the whole thing, I stopped for an early breakfast at the best cafeteria that was open. I considered a morning shower—there was plenty of time—but passed on the idea. I figured it would be better if I looked like I’d been working real hard on this, instead of having spent the night sawing wood and being stalked by a crazy lizard.

Drusus came to work shockingly early. He arrived via air-car, coming down his own private chimney from the roof. At about the same time, his staff arrived and took up their spots. They all must have had alerts set up warning them of his approach. That was smart. Never let the boss get to work before you do, my papa always said.

When the staffers filtered in to man their desks, they looked at me like I was a streak of shit.

“Can I help you, Centurion?” asked a particularly smarmy primus. He had ass-kisser written all over him, but that was reserved for his superiors. With a loser like me, it was all an act. I could tell he wanted me out of his waiting room and gone for good.

I could have told him that wasn’t going to happen, but I don’t like to deliver bad news unless I have to.

“I’ve got an appointment to see the praetor. I’m McGill—James McGill.”

“I know who you are…” the primus said in kind of a prissy, sing-song voice. I hated it right off the bat.

He swept his finger over his tapper, then scrolled up and checked again. His eyes snapped up and he forced a smile. “I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken. You’re not on the roster for today, Centurion. Perhaps we could make an appointment for… March?”

“Nope. Tell Drusus I’m here. He’ll see me.”

That bullshit smile came back, but the primus wasn’t looking at me. Not anymore. He was glancing to my left and right.

I was surprised by the two hog veterans that approached. They were relatively quiet on their feet, which wasn’t something hogs were known for.

The primus sniffed. “Remove this man, please.”

The first hog stepped forward and reached for my bicep. That was a weak-sister move. I figured he must not have known who I was, or anything about me. That was almost a relief. I rarely encounter men these days who haven’t been forewarned concerning my unruly behavior.

The hog hit the deck with his nose and mouth in the lead. Fortunately, the flooring wasn’t stone or anything, so nothing on his face broke audibly. When he did a push-up and came back up roaring, he only left a smear of blood on the deck where he’d done a facer.

The second man had a truncheon out, and it was doing that sparkler-thing. One touch from that electric fun-stick, and I’d be doing a dance—just like I’d done yesterday when Raash had surprised me.

I didn’t like the idea of going all numb again, so I sent the second hog over my hip onto the floor—where he landed right on top of the first hog.

Somehow—it might have been an accident—the two men both caught a jolt from that activated truncheon. There was a snap and some buzzing. Their bellies were pinning it between them, I guess. It was definitely not their lucky day.

I made a face, feeling their discomfort. “Damn! You hogs should be careful with those things. They can be dangerous.”

The smarmy primus had his sidearm out by now, and he aimed it at me. His hand shook a little, and his sides were heaving with excitement.

“Freeze, Centurion!” he warbled at me. “You’re under arrest!”

Right about then, Drusus threw his office doors wide. He took two steps into the lobby and looked around in open-mouthed shock. Then he caught sight of me, and his jaw snapped shut.

“What’s going on out—McGill?”

I’d put my hands up to make the primus fellow happy, but I took the time to touch my cap to Drusus. “I’m mighty sorry about all this, Praetor, sir. Someone must have issued shock-rods to these hogs without proper training. You shouldn’t have to witness this level of incompetence, especially inside your own headquarters.”

“No, I shouldn’t. I guess you might as well come on in.”

The primus ass-kisser, shocked to his core, opened his mouth to object. Drusus stopped him with an upright hand.

“I’m sorry, Bob. I should have told you about McGill. He has standing permission to pester me—as long as he doesn’t abuse the privilege. Now, could you get us two coffees, please?”

Primus Bob was red-faced, and he looked a little sick. Meanwhile, the two hog fellas had stopped playing twister on the floor. They struggled back to their feet. One of them seemed to have lost control of his bladder, but I, in a rare act of forbearance, didn’t even tease him about it.

“Bob?” I said. “I like three sugars in mine. And cream, too. Lots of cream.”

I followed Drusus into his office after that, and I could almost hear the awful cursing that went on after I’d left.

Once we were inside his palatial office, Drusus crossed his arms and looked a little disgusted. “All right, McGill. I’ve put up with your antics once again, but this had better be good.”

“Well sir, it’s not. It’s actually kind of bad.”

He frowned while I told him, in general terms, how my week had been going. He stopped me when I got to the part about porting out of the Sea Empress to Green World.

“Hold on. Are you telling me that explosion out in the harbor was your fault?”

“What? No, sir! Not in any way, shape or form. I take zero responsibility for what happened, for now and ever more.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he did gesture for me to hurry up and tell the rest of the story.

“Well… you see, sir, after that it gets kind of complicated.”

I kept going, telling him about Green World and Rigel and killing Armel and Raash. I skipped over the part about how I got Raash a ghetto-revive and him being depressed with his blue scales and all. I went right on into the business of Green World being a rebel group stronghold and how they were plotting against us.

“At last I’m beginning to see why you’ve come. This group—whoever they are—has already struck a blow against Earth.”

“That’s exactly right, sir.  They plan to do a lot more than blow up one big ship.”

“Hmm…”

He began to pace and think, and I let him do it without interruption. In the meantime coffee and Danishes arrived. I helped myself despite getting an admonishing glance from Primus Bob. By the time Drusus reached for his cup, there was nothing but coffee left on the tray. Fortunately, he was preoccupied, and he didn’t complain.

“This is big news, McGill,” Drusus said. “We can’t let this nest of rebels just sit out there and fester. But I’ve checked on my tapper, and we haven’t located Green World yet.”

“That’s exactly right. The Intel boys have been slacking—but I spent the night working on the problem.”

With a dramatic flourish, I flicked a big folder of data to his desk. He tapped at it, opening star charts and astronavigational material. There was a whole lot more, too, such as chemical analysis of the atmosphere, spectrograms of the local sun—the works.

“This is impressive. You really think you’ve isolated the star’s location?”

“I’d wager my left nut on it.”

Drusus smiled tightly. He liked the work, but he didn’t like the threat it represented.

“What surprises me is that Turov herself isn’t here to present this to me.”

“Uh…”

“Ah!” Drusus said, working his tapper. “I see she’s in her office. I’ll summon her up here for her input.”

“Oh…”

Right then, I realized I had a big decision to make. If I admitted to Drusus that Turov was in the dark about Green World’s location—not to mention crazy blue lizards and a dozen other details—it was going to look bad for her. It would appear that I’d jumped the chain of command, and worse, that Turov was incompetent.

Now, all of that was true and more—but I didn’t want Drusus thinking it. There would be hell to pay with Galina if he did.

Drusus messaged Turov, calling her to an emergency meeting. Then he began to page through the files I’d dumped on his desk, marveling at the work.

While he was distracted, I messaged Galina privately.

Act like you know everything. That was all I sent, and then I put my tapper behind my back. My forearm vibrated several times, but I didn’t dare look at whatever it was she sent back.

In the meantime, Drusus made an awful discovery. He’d finally gotten around to realizing Green World was in the middle of Province 928.

“Is this correct?” he asked, aghast. “Is this planet located inside Skay territory?”

“Well inside, I’d say.”

His shoulders slumped. “Diabolical. It makes so much sense… there are countless examples of this kind of asymmetrical warfare in history, you know.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yes. A weak power, such as a rebel group, often hides inside the territory of a rival. That way, the nation that’s under attack can’t simply fly out and destroy them. If they do, it will cause a greater war that the abused nation doesn’t want.”

“Hmm… what are we going to do about it?”

Drusus paced again. “We’ll have to do what nations have done under such circumstances for thousands of years: we’ll fight a small, dirty war. We’ll infiltrate, we’ll sabotage—anything that can get to them without admitting that’s what we’re doing.”

“Uh-huh.”

About then, Galina arrived. She seemed a little out of breath. Possibly, she’d run from the elevator to Drusus’ office doors.

She gave me a weird look as she was let inside. I suggested she have some of Primus Bob’s excellent coffee, but she passed.

Drusus beckoned, requesting her presence at the big battle table.

Galina stood straight and marched right up there. She gave me one worried glance, but I just stood there and grinned like an idiot. I didn’t dare give her any more hints on how to play things.

Fortunately, she was almost as good as I was at bullshitting. “Praetor Drusus? I see McGill has given you his report.”

“Yes… I must say, I’m quite impressed. Perhaps you can fill me in on certain details.”

She swallowed—hard. Her expression didn’t show it, but I knew she was curling up her toes and digging her nails into her palms. She did that when she was freaked-out.

“I’ll explain what I can. Some of it is technical.”

“Right… you must have put quite a team on this. Who did you use?”

Galina hesitated, and she glanced at me. I didn’t give her any hand-gestures or other nonsense. Drusus was simply too sharp for that kind of junior high skullduggery. Instead, I grinned and waited.

“Uh… Natasha, of course. She’s one of our best techs.” Galina glanced my way, and I dared to give her the slightest of nods. She was on safe ground, as she knew that I always got Natasha to do my homework.

“Specialist Natasha Elkin did all this?” Drusus asked incredulously. “Star-charts? Astrophysics? That’s incredible, we’ll have to promote that woman immediately.”

“Ah… well, there were others.”

“Like who?”

Galina seemed flustered. She looked around, thinking hard. Then her face changed, and she looked slightly annoyed. “Floramel, from Central’s underground labs. Isn’t that right, McGill?”

Finally, she’d given me an opening.

“That’s right, sir,” I said loudly. “Floramel has access to some of the best minds we have in this complex. She’s got my own daughter Etta working for her, too.”

“Ah, I see…” Drusus said, and he went back to looking at force positions. I could tell he was plotting distances, trying to figure out if we could secretly fly a ship out there to Green World or not.

Galina took this moment of distraction to cast me a sour glance. She was jealous of both Natasha and Floramel. There was quite a history there. A whole can of worms I’d rather not open up again today.

Even worse, though, she’d been surprised by all this and I knew she hated surprises. Hated them.

Drusus frowned slightly at us. Maybe he’d picked up on an odd vibe. “Where are these experts? If they have a better grasp on the details, they should be here for the presentation.”

“Ah…” Galina said, but I moved in to save her pretty behind again.

“You see, Praetor sir, we worked all night on this. I sent them to the barracks to get some sleep.”

Galina jumped in, not wanting to be left out. “I also thought it would be better if McGill and I did the presentation. Some people have skills when summarizing complex information—and others do not.”

“I get it. All right,” Drusus said at last. “Good work, you two. I’m impressed. I’m going to have to call a special meeting of the Joint Chiefs. Make sure you’re both available, along with any other support personnel you might require. Mobilize the entire legion as well, just in case. And McGill, take a shower. I can smell you from here.”

“Will do, sir!”

After that, he kicked us out of his office.

Galina headed straight to the elevators, and I followed her.

“James…?” Galina said, walking stiffly. “I’m not sure how to process what just happened in there.”

“Oh yeah? Well… go with your gut. That’s what I always do.”

“Obviously. All right, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, since you tried to warn me concerning the situation. I’m going to assume you were found out somehow, that something leaked and Drusus found out what you were investigating. Then, when he hauled you upstairs to report, you clued me in.”

“That’s exactly how it went, Tribune.”

She pursed her fine lips tightly. I knew she didn’t believe me—but she also appreciated the fact I’d given her a heads-up. That would have to do for now. Sometimes, a friendship depended on plausible deniability.

Galina entered the elevator, and she let me step aboard with her.

“Are you actually tired?” she asked me.

I thought about that question for a full second. If I said yes, I might get a little shut-eye. The truth was I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep. That wasn’t due to actually working, or anything like that, but the opportunity to lounge could never be taken lightly by a legionnaire.

Following this line of thinking, I almost faked a yawn and a stretch—but I stopped myself.

What if there were other fringe benefits under consideration? Galina and I had been intimate on worse days, after all…

“Nope. I feel fine. You want to get some breakfast?”

Her eyes slid to the deck, then back up to my face. That was a tell, right there. She was interested.

“All right.”

We made our way to the officer’s mess nearby. The staff there eyed me strangely, and I knew right off what the trouble was: I’d just eaten breakfast here about an hour ago.

That wasn’t any kind of a problem for man like myself. I was often hungry long before lunch, no matter what I ate for breakfast.

We had omelets and coffee and more Danishes. Galina was happy she’d gotten in on the credit for all our discoveries, so she was in a fine mood. That was a nice change of pace.

“The only thing that worries me is how we’re going to go out there and take care of this place—Green World, I mean.”

“You don’t think we can simply fly Dominus out there and take care of business?”

She snorted. “No. It’s not that Dominus isn’t up to the task, it’s the fact that it will be too easily recognized. That very ship was posted at Edge World during the last campaign. The Skay would recognize it, among others.”

“Huh… by the way, did the Skay ever complain after we took the whole Shadowlander tribe off Edge World right under their noses?”

“Not that we know of. They probably didn’t even notice. They care even less than the Mogwa about what we do out here on the frontier. By the way, we’ve begun moving all the tribesmen from Earth to L-374.”

I shook my head. “Death World? That’s still the plan? That seems kind of evil.”

Galina shrugged. “The nomads can handle it, if anyone can.”

I sipped my second coffee and wondered if Galina had shipped those people all the way out to Death World just to remove Helsa from my vicinity. That might sound petty and extreme—but I knew this woman pretty well.

“Okay, so… what about Armel?” I asked.

“I haven’t revived that snake yet, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why not?”

She made an off-hand gesture of disinterest. “Why bother? What does he matter at this point, now that we’ve located Green World? We’ll go out there, find their hidden base, and blow it up.”

I leaned toward her. “What if he can help us get there? Without being noticed by the Skay, I mean? He was the enforcer of the province, after all.”

Galina stopped sipping her tea and stared at me. Slowly, she put her tea cup down. “James… that is an intriguing idea… come on.”

She stood up, and I rammed a last Danish into my mouth in a wad. Slapping my hands together to remove the flaky glaze, I followed her out.

-24-

We went down—a long ways. It took damn near fifteen minutes of elevators and several ear-pops to go from the top of Central to the bottom—or almost the bottom. At least we didn’t end up in that creepy vault full of disembodied old brains.

Walking along with Galina for that long was something of a mistake for a man like me. I couldn’t help but notice her shapely form and her light step. She didn’t seem to notice my attentions, as she was distracted with what were no doubt nefarious thoughts of her own.

When we finally got to one of those sterile Blue Deck chambers, a room where people were revived who were never meant to see the light of day again, she stopped and filled out some forms.

The bio people were weird down here. I got the feeling they hadn’t had a lot of business lately—and that that was a good thing.

A centurion-level bio-woman came out of her office and examined Galina’s filled out e-paper. After about twenty seconds, she frowned and made a slash through it. Everything Galina had written melted away.

“Request denied.”

“What?” Galina squawked. “Do you know who I am?”

“I’m sorry, Tribune Turov,” she said, pretending to give a shit. “We can’t do this kind of revive here.”

“Maurice Armel is a traitor to Earth. He therefore belongs here.”

The smug bio shook her head. “Not with your authorization. You don’t have the clearance. You’re not even government.”

Galina was pissed. That was a bad thing. This little bio was playing with fire, and I doubted she knew it. Galina leaned forward into the other woman’s face.

The bio-woman flinched back in surprise.

“You don’t know who you’re frigging with. I’ll burn this place down.”

The centurion regained her composure quickly. “What you are is lost. You’re not Hegemony, and even if you were, you don’t have the clearance or the authority to tell us to revive a dead rat.”

“As an amazing coincidence,” I said, “old Armel is kind of similar to a dead rat.”

Neither of the women even glanced at me, much less smiled at my joke. They were ready to throw-down right now.

“I’ll be back,” Galina said, and she spun around to march out.

I followed along after her, and when we got to the elevator, I asked an obvious question. “Hey, we don’t need to step on any toes, here. We can go upstairs to some Blue Deck and buy a cheap revive on the legion budget if we have to.”

“You don’t understand. I’m not just trying to get a revival. These people have… techniques. They can get information from a man that no one else on this planet can.”

I frowned. That sounded kind of… evil.

At that moment I remembered what I’d told old Armel before I’d tossed him off a cliff back at Rigel. I’d pretty much promised him I’d help him not get tortured—or whatever foul fate was on Galina’s mind.

“Uh… Tribune? I’ve got an idea.”

She looked at me. “So do I, but I doubt our two thoughts are compatible.”

“Huh? Well, maybe not. But the way I see it, is the trick will be to avoid government stooges like that group that just cock-blocked us. They’re going to get in the way, and they will take the credit if Armel does talk.”

She eyed me thoughtfully. “Go on. How do we do fix these problems?”

“Let’s get Armel a revive off the grid. Down at that place around the back of Central—you know, where they charge a million credits to revive anyone.”

Her eyes were narrowing as I spoke. “How do you know—ah, right. You found out about them when you killed Floramel.”

“I surely didn’t!”

She threw up her hands. “Whatever. I don’t care who you kill. But how would reviving Armel there help us?”

“Well sir, if no one knows he’s on Earth… if no one knows we’ve got him… well, we can do whatever we want. No evidence. No regulations—nothing.”

She thought that over carefully. “Hmm… You’ve got a point. After all, if Armel won’t cooperate, we can always put him down and then bring him back here for a second round. If your idea works, on the other hand, we’ll be able to take full credit. Yes… I like this idea of yours.”

Thoughtfully, she fired up the elevator again, and we began sailing back up to the lobby area. The revival chambers I’d taken Floramel too had been on the ground floor, so that made perfect sense.

She worked her tapper like a pro while we sailed past levels. “Of course,” she said while looking at her forearm and moving her fingers like greased-lightning, “you realize that you’ll have to do all the dirty work, right?”

“Oh… huh?”

She lowered her arm and stared at me. “The torture, McGill. Get your head past breakfast, will you do it?”

“Uh… I get it. Sure.”

I was concerned, but I kept quiet while Galina contacted shady people and made arrangements. She seemed to have an endless supply of cash for events like this. A million credits didn’t seem to mean squat to her. It was kind of odd. Was she getting the cash from legion funds, or… where?

I had the good sense not to ask, and by the time we got to the backdoor region of Central, a pair of bio people were waiting for us.

The leader, a skinny woman in blue coveralls, smiled when she saw Galina. But then, her eye caught sight of me, and her expression changed dramatically.

I knew what the trouble was right off. Several years back, I’d been revived by this woman and her beefy orderly. They’d argued about the matter and decided to grind me up. Naturally, I’d taken offense at this, and I’d seen to it that the orderly fellow died instead.

“I see you remember McGill,” Turov said. “Today, he’s not going to kill anyone—unless I’m highly dissatisfied.”

Catching onto the nature of my role immediately, I gave them a relaxed death-stare. The pair both shifted uncomfortably, as if their coveralls had suddenly become itchy.

“What can we do for you, Tribune?” asked the bio girl in a kiss-ass voice. “We’re awfully busy, but we always like to do our best for Earth’s security.”

“That’s sweet. James, give them the body-scan and engrams.”

I did as she asked, and we looked around the office. It was kind of low-rent.

“Where do we wait?” Galina asked.

The bio indicated a shitty, sagging couch with a flick of her finger.

Once seated, I decided to ask for a bottle of pop—but they were already gone. They’d slammed the portal to their revival chamber and sealed it from the inside.

“You think they’re going to contact security?” I asked.

Galina laughed. “They’re probably contacting their stock brokers. Those two have cleaned me out of a lot of cash over the years.”

I nodded, believing her.

Awhile later, I found myself nodding off. My head was resting against the wall and my heels were making a scuff on the floor as my butt almost slid off the couch.

Galina slapped my thigh, and I snorted awake. “Stop snoring. Go in there and see what the hold-up is.”

“Hold-up?”

Getting to my feet, I looked at my tapper. It had been thirty-five minutes… no, almost forty. That didn’t sound like a priority revive to me.

I got up and walked to the door. Galina was behind me, complaining and yapping about a deduction to their usual fee. I didn’t listen. Instead, I drew my pistol and peered into the triangular porthole in the door.

I spotted the revival machine. It was yawning open. The lower jaw dripped goop slowly—but there was no sign of Armel.

Then I tilted my head and stretched my neck. Being a tall man, I was able to see the deck despite the angle. Was that…? Yes. A pair of blue coveralls were sprawled on the stained floor—and there was a body inside them.

“He killed the bio-people,” I told Galina in a whisper.

“What?”

“You heard me. He killed them. Armel is tricky that way, you know.”

She backed away from the door in alarm, but I waved her closer.

“Open this—you must have the clearance.”

She did as I asked, then she hopped away when the door swung wide.

A crazed figure rushed us. It was Armel all right, wild-eyed and buck-naked. He had a scalpel in one hand and what looked like a bloody scalp in the other.

-25-

Galina squealed and stumbled back, but I set myself and aimed my pistol at his head. His charge faltered. He stopped. His sides were heaving and his freshly revived eyes squinted at me.

“McGill?”

“That’s right, you ungrateful prick. Why’d you kill our bio-techs?”

He glanced over his shoulder, then cast aside the scalpel. “I… I must apologize.”

“He’s a bad grow, McGill,” Turov said from behind my elbow. “Put him down.”

“Is that…? Ah, yes. Of course. I almost didn’t recognize your characteristic squeak, Tribune Turov.”

Galina stepped half-way out from behind me. Her tail was already swishing. Armel could piss people off faster than anyone—with the possible exception of myself. He had a knack for it.

“I was an idiot to let you talk me into reviving him, James. Now those bios will demand extra cash for dying.”

I glanced down at Turov. “Really? It was pretty expensive already. Way more than this Frenchman is worth. You shouldn’t give them a tip or anything.”

Armel was frowning now, looking for clothes. I kept my pistol trained on his mustache, but he didn’t even seem to notice or care. “So, this revive is off the books? Excellent. I commend you, McGill. When I awoke to find myself in the hands of two hogs inside Central, I assumed the worst. You have surprised me yet again.”

“How so?”

Armel shrugged into the clothes he’d found—it looked like something a bio orderly would wear—then he stood tall. The clothes stretched to fit his frame, and he sighed comfortably. “If you had meant to torment me in the depths of Central, you would hardly have paid for an expensive illegal revive.”

“Oh… yeah, right.” I thought, of course, of Galina’s ideas. Off the books or no, she didn’t have nice intentions toward Armel. There was no point in telling him that, however. A man tended to clam-up if you told him torture might be coming his way. “I told you I’d bring you home, and here you are.”

“How do you wish to proceed?” he asked, gazing at us.

“Huh?”

“I mean, am I to pretend I’m your prisoner? Or a guest? Or perhaps a bio orderly who happens to be heading to lunch with two Varus officers?”

“You’re a prisoner,” Galina said, and she tossed him a pair of gravity-cuffs.

Armel made clucking sounds of disappointment, but he put them on without a fuss. After all, he knew we had all the cards now that he was on our turf. We could kill him and tell any tale we wanted. Everyone would believe us.

Galina led the way, with Armel in the middle and me bringing up the rear with my pistol aimed at his spine. Once he had the cuffs on, Galina was all brassy and swaggering.

“I’ve got half a mind to turn you in to Hegemony. That alone would be worth the credits I wasted on you.”

“Ah, but then how would you explain the illegal revive? Or the dead bio people?”

Galina gave him a bitter glance over her shoulder. “I’d think of something.”

Armel laughed. “I bet you would. There’s no act of deceit I’d put past you, Tribune. But if you did that, you’d never hear my offer.”

“What offer?”

“I wish to help you with a small problem you’ve been having.”

Galina stopped and faced him, putting her hands on her hips. “Seriously? You think after an expensive ship blows up, you can waltz back to Earth with some lame explanation about the sabotage?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but yes, I can explain it, and I can help you exact your revenge. Better yet, I can help you ensure worse things don’t happen very soon.”

She wagged a finger in his face. “Oh no, you don’t. You caused that explosion—or at the very least, you were in on it. Getting back into Earth’s good graces will not be so easy.”

“Hmm… I reject your premise out of hand, of course. I didn’t blow up the Sea Empress. McGill did that by exposing the smuggling system. Once that happened, the rebels felt they had to erase all evidence so that Earth wouldn’t suspect the great danger they’re in.”

“If these rebels are so powerful, why aren’t you working for them still?”

Galina had my attention now. That was exactly what I was wondering.

“As I told McGill, I think they will lose their gambit. I don’t wish to be on the losing side. It is a weak position for any mercenary to be in.”

She huffed and spun back around on her heel. We boarded an elevator and she talked to the panel. “Detention level minus five.”

The elevator began a quick descent, and Armel looked kind of glum. “McGill? Aren’t you even going to object to this? We had a deal, man.”

I shrugged. “I told you I’d get a revive, and I did. The rest of this game is up to you. I’m not in charge around here, you know.”

“One would never suspect this truth.” He turned back to Galina, who wasn’t looking at him. He looked speculative. “It would seem I need to make a tempting offer. As I said before, I can solve your current problem for you.”

“I doubt you even know what we want.”

“Not true!”

The door swished open, and guards turned to regard us. They eyed Armel and the rest of us warily.

“What’s this about, Tribune?”

“This is a Legion Varus matter. This prisoner has performed unacceptably. We’re here to punish him.”

“Ah-ha! Flogging, shocking or…?”

“We’ll flog him.”

The hog looked kind of excited. He got out a leather whip with three tails on it. Each tail was weighted and barbed.

“They used to go with a nine-tailed whip, you know,” he said as he smoothed out the straps in a loving fashion. “But we’ve advanced in our techniques over the years. This tool will do the job, and I prefer the weight of it in my hand to a true cat-o-nine.”

Galina looked at the whip with mild curiosity. “That will do. McGill? Take the whip.”

I reached for it, but the hog looked surprised and disappointed. He didn’t hand it over right off.

“Uh… Tribune? I’m a trained professional with this device. If you want an amateur to swing it, well… I wouldn’t do it, if I were you. It’s liable to get messy.”

“I don’t care. McGill has a good arm. Hand it over, please, and give us a private room to work in.”

With his eyebrows riding high in resigned surprise, he handed me the whip and signed us into a room. As we walked away, I overheard the hog talk to his partner. “That gorilla is going to take the guy’s head off.”

“Suits me,” said the second man. “Varus people deserve each other.”

We stepped into a sterile white room at the end of the hall. Everything was stainless steel or white-painted brick in here.

“Looky here,” I said, pointing. “There’s even a steel drain in the floor, and a spritzer thoughtfully racked on that wall for clean-up. They thought of everything.”

“Everything except my reaction,” Armel said with a hint of bitterness. “You’ll get nothing from me this way, Turov. I—”

Crack!

I’d positioned myself behind him, and the first blow laid his shirt open almost down to his waist.

“Gah!” Armel pitched forward on his knees. He almost fell on his face, what with the gravity cuff keeping him from using his hands and all.

“That hog was right. This thing works great.”

Galina’s hand went high. “Hold on, McGill. You’re as over-eager as that pig of man outside. I haven’t even asked him any questions yet.”

“Okay, okay. So ask. My wrist is getting itchy, here.”

Experimentally, I slashed the air with the whip. It made all kinds of cool slashing sounds.

“This is pointless, Turov,” Armel gasped from the deck.

“On the contrary. I’m enjoying myself immensely. This is worthwhile, if only for the entertainment value.”

He glared up at us. “Animals. This is why I left Earth.”

“Oh really?” Galina stooped down. “I thought you got paid better. Did the bears really treat you with kindness and consideration?”

“They were at least predictable and rational to deal with.”

That seemed to sting Galina a little. She didn’t like being called crazy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about crazy ladies, it’s this: never call them crazy.

“Can I hit him again?”

“No. I’m going to ask my first question.”

“Don’t bother,” Armel said. “I know what it is. You want to know how to get to Green World.”

“Wrong. McGill?”

Crack!

I did a side-swipe this time. “Damn if that did draw lines!”

“Bastard!”

“We already know how to get to Green World, Armel. We’ve pin-pointed it. What we want to know is—”

“Yes, stupid woman! I know what you want! You want to know how to get across the Skay province safely, without tripping any alarms. I can tell you that, if you would only listen. I can give you our friend-or-foe codes. I was, after all, the chief enforcer of Province 926.”

“Hmm… so you were. What’s more, you’re right. That is exactly what I wanted to know. Unfortunately, I don’t like being called stupid.”

She signaled me again, and one more time the whip rose and fell.

Crack!

-26-

We exited the detention center, collected a copy of the video, and moved toward the elevators. On the way, the sadist hog tapped my arm.

“The whip, please, Centurion?”

I handed it over. He looked at it, then up at me. “You know Varus, I was wrong about you. That was good work. If you ever need to do some moonlighting… well, we could us a man like you.”

Shaking my head, I tried to explain. I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at Armel. “That man is a traitor. He and I—we’ve killed each other more than once. I wouldn’t feel right about beating on a stranger who might not deserve it.”

“I see. But just remember you’ve got a talent in that arm of yours. Don’t waste it.”

Shaking my head, I hurried after Galina, half-dragging Armel behind me. He wasn’t in mint condition anymore. I thought that was a rather weak showing on his part. After all, I’d taken thirty lashes before and still walked out with my head held high. Of course, the blows might not have been delivered with quite so much force…

When we were in the elevator again, we starting going up. We went a long ways, and finally even Armel became curious about our destination.

“What next? Are we going to the very top?”

“Almost,” Galina told him. “We’re going to meet Drusus.”

“Really? Is that a good idea? His instinct will be to perm me.”

Galina shrugged. “Possibly. That’s why we beat you. This capture has to look convincing.”

Armel stared at the floor. His eyes were a little glassy, and sweat mixed with blood dripped onto the floor. After about ten seconds of that, he straightened suddenly.

“No! That’s a lie! You beat me so that no one would suspect you and I are in a conspiracy together. Well, rest assured, your secrets are safe with me. I have nothing to gain by bringing you down with me.”

Galina looked at him like he was a dog turd. Armel dared to smile back. I will say one thing for the man: he had a brass pair on him. He always had.

“I’ve got half a mind to call this off and recycle you,” she said.

“Yes, of course. But you need the friend-or-foe codes, don’t you? How else will you get past the Skay to your target?”

Growling, Galina led the way back to Drusus’ offices. Once we were there, the staffers fussed and carried on. They didn’t like stains on their couches and floors.

I took the nu-skin spray they offered and blew the entire can onto Armel’s back. That fixed him and got the prissy hogs to shut up as a bonus.

After a dull half an hour, whatever boring-ass meeting Drusus had been involved in broke up. He chased about fifty uniforms out of his office, then finally noticed us.

“This is an unlikely trio,” he said.

“Praetor? Sir?” said a man off to one side.

It was Primus Bob again, and he was almost hopping from foot-to-foot. “I know you said McGill could pester you within reason. That’s why we allowed him to wait here. But I feel I must remind you of your lunch appointment with Wurtenburger.”

“That’s an online weekly meeting. Postpone it.”

Primus Bob gaped while Drusus beckoned us into his office and closed the door.

Once inside, the praetor turned to me, shaking his head. “McGill, you’re always surprising me. I sent you to look into Green World this morning, so you return with a traitor in tow a few hours later? What did you do? Port out there and capture this renegade?”

“Uh… what? No, no, no, sir. He came to us… sort of. I had him in my tapper, see. He was still recognized as a legionnaire by my local grid, so it caught his engram when I killed him back at Rigel.”

Drusus blinked, thinking that over. “I suppose that’s possible… How did you get the body-scan?”

I shrugged. “Easy as pie. He was in the data-core here at Central. Sure, the body was a few years younger… but that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Drusus thought it over, and he walked to his giant table computer. We followed him apprehensively. Drusus ran his fingers over the black glass surface.

“Should I check out your story? I can, you know. I can look into what you had for dinner last night, if I need to.”

Deciding to bluff all the way, I grinned and slapped a big palm on the table. “Burger and fries, sir. Check away!”

“That’s what I thought. But, as the Greeks used to say, it isn’t a good idea to look a gift-horse in the mouth.”

“Heh. Good advice.”

Drusus looked at Turov next. “McGill says your prisoner was recently revived—and he appears to have been abused. Did you approve both these actions?”

“I did, sir.”

He nodded, and he fondled his computer some more. I could tell he was thinking about checking the revival records—naturally, there would be no record of Armel being brought back to life. If we’d even tried to get permission to do that, he would probably have been alerted.

Finally, he shook his head and sighed. “No, I’m going to have to take your word on this today. That’s what Legion Varus is all about, after all, doing unpleasant things that need doing.”

“Damned straight, sir! We’re frigging heroes, one and all. You used to say that all time, remember?”

He nodded. “Okay, so what can this man do for us?”

We all looked at Armel. Mind you, he seemed a little surly and ungrateful. I thought that was sour grapes on his part. After all, he was the traitor. Had he really expected a homecoming parade and a box of chocolates?

For a minute, Armel looked like he was going to whine about his flogging—but he didn’t. Instead, he straightened himself and addressed Drusus. “You have a problem, sir. You need to get to Green World before the rebel forces launch their invasion of Earth.”

Drusus tilted his head. “Invasion?”

“Oh? Did these two forget to mention this detail? An oversight, I’m sure.”

“All right, we’ll come back to that. Please continue. Tell me how you’ll solve our problem in getting to Green World.”

Armel proceeded to explain how he could provide the codes needed to guide a ship through Province 926 without being detected as unusual traffic. When he was done, Drusus frowned at him.

“Surely, your people will change those codes after your disappearance.”

“Ah, sadly, this is true. We must move with urgency. If possible, we should all board Dominus and fly out of here tonight.”

“Impossible!” Turov squawked.

Armel ignored her outburst. He was studying Drusus carefully.

“We’ll do it,” Drusus said after spending about ninety seconds tapping on his giant desk. “I’ll join you when you get there to command the expedition personally. Turov, you’ll fly in—six hours.”

“Sir?” she sputtered. “There’s simply no way we can gather a full legion in that much time!”

“I know. We’ll use the gateway posts. As your troops report to the Mustering Hall for duty over the next several days, we’ll transmit them to the ship in a steady stream. It’s not optimal, but it will work.”

She blinked a few times, and she nodded. “All right, Praetor. Is this a firm order? If so, I must withdraw and make immediate arrangements.”

He waved for her to go. She saluted and ran off.

That left just me, Armel, and Drusus.

The Praetor’s eye became hard—even squinty. He was more than a little suspicious.

“What did you promise this man for this information, McGill?”

“Jack-squat, sir. I told him I’d get him breathing again and give him the chance to make his case. Now that he’s done that, I’m out.”

So saying, I spun on my heel, turning toward the door. I was already planning my lunch.

“Not so fast. Stand and wait.”

“Yessir.” Slowly, I turned back to face him. Sometimes, a man just couldn’t slip away fast enough.

Drusus turned back to Armel, who wasn’t smiling or goofing off. He knew Drusus wasn’t dumb. He was decisive—and he could be mean.

“What do you expect from us for this good turn, Armel?”

“Nothing absurd. I don’t expect a command of my own. I merely wish to return to normal society. I want to be a common man again. A retired soul on Old Earth.”

Drusus snorted. “That’s hardly possible. You’re a renown criminal—worse, you’re a traitor on a grand scale.”

Armel pursed his lips and shrugged. “I might require… facial surgery? Whatever it takes.”

Drusus shook his head. “No. You’ll go with us. You’ll stay a prisoner until this campaign is seen through to the end. If I’m satisfied with your efforts at that point, I’ll see that all charges are quietly dropped.”

“You can do that?” I burst out. “That’s pretty cool.”

Drusus glanced at me, but he didn’t answer. “What do you say, Armel?”

“I accept your terms, Drusus. I’m at your service to the bitter end.”

Drusus then summoned some hogs and had Armel taken to Blue Deck for some more patching up.

When we were alone, he turned to me at last. “Looks like we’re launching a new campaign together, McGill.”

“It’s like my birthday and Christmas came all at once, sir!”

“What do you think of Armel? Can we trust him?”

“Not half as far as I could throw him. Nowhere near that far, actually…”

Drusus nodded and paced a bit. I let him get the pacing-thing out of his system without interrupting.

“I want you to keep an eye on him,” he said at last. “Turov too. I don’t quite know what’s going on, but I don’t like any of it. We’ll go out to Green World, we’ll erase whatever’s there, and we’ll pray that’s the end of it all.”

I nodded. “I sure hope the good Lord plans to give us a break this time, sir.”

He smiled faintly. “Me too.”

-27-

The next dozen hours were a whirlwind of action. It took us longer to get Dominus underway than we’d hoped—nearly twice as long.

That said, it was amazing we could get a ship so large fueled and loaded with cargo when the voyage hadn’t even been planned. Hogs and yard-dogs were working hard, sweating and humping and bumping.

At last, we had enough gear and personnel to cast off. The big ship turned toward the Moon, slid out just past the satellite’s orbit—then Captain Merton hit the gas. We entered warp and hummed along nicely.

Immediately, I found a hard bunk and flopped on it. That gained me some well-earned shuteye. The break didn’t last long, however. By about 0600 hours, my tapper was beeping and people were hammering on my flimsy cabin door.

Staggering awake, I threw the door open. A group of officers stood there, and they were shocked by what they saw. The main problem was I was naked from the waist down.

“McGill?” Graves asked. He glanced sourly around my cabin, but he saw I was alone. “Did you get the update on your tapper last night, McGill? About the breakfast meeting this morning?”

“Uh… sure did, sir!” I lied with enthusiasm. Night-time messages rarely got read by my eyes, unless they’d been sent by a pretty girl.

Graves glared at me. “The meeting is right now, and you’re out of uniform, soldier. Put some clothes on. We’ll wait.”

Behind him, several curious necks craned to look. Centurion Leeza was there, plus Winslade and a few others. She looked amused, while Winslade was disgusted. As for Graves, well, he looked just as annoyed with me as he usually did.

“Uh… yessir. I’ll get right on that. I like to sleep in the buff when I’m hot, see—sorry about that.”

I slammed the door in their faces and whipped on some clothes. As soon as I had myself half-covered, I opened the door again and waved for them to enter.

“Welcome to my humble abode… if you think you’ll all fit, I’ve got a foldout table right here.”

Winslade snorted. “That’s not our intention, McGill. Come with us.”

That’s when I realized Winslade was in charge of this little delegation. I didn’t like to see that, but he’d been given command of Legion Varus’ sidekick legion again. Apparently, after Fike had shit the bed at the tribune level out on Edge World, the brass had lost confidence in him. He was just another primus now.

That meant the job of running what we called our “zoo” of aliens was wide open, and the duty had fallen on Winslade’s skinny shoulders once again.

In all honesty, that made him a sub-tribune, and I didn’t think he should be lording it over an accomplished man like Graves. But I didn’t make the rules—bureaucrat hogs back on Earth did that. They’d ruled a sub-tribune was a half-step below a full tribune in rank. Essentially, he was in-between the level of a primus and a real tribune. Every sub rank worked like that now. It was good to have a clear chain-of-command, but it did leave a bad feeling in some people’s butts when it resulted in moments like this.

We dutifully followed Winslade on his rounds. He was gathering up a number of officers, mostly of the centurion and primus rank.

“Did someone say something about breakfast?” I asked when we were a throng of about thirty people. “I’m getting kind of peckish.”

“Come, come,” Winslade said, flicking fingers over his shoulder. “Refreshments are this way.”

Lured like children following the Pied Piper, we made our way down to Yellow Deck and were served a decent meal. Officers filled half the cafeteria, and I had to figure that everyone who’d been in the immediate neighborhood of Central had been shanghaied and shipped out on an emergency basis.

“I’m going to brief you all on this mission, then our… guest will take over.”

My hand shot up, and my fingers fluttered in the air.

Winslade rolled his eyes. “Seriously, McGill? A question already? I haven’t even started yet.”

“Sir? Why are you doing the briefing instead of Turov?”

Winslade formed a tight little butthole with his mouth—at least, that’s what it looked like to me. “Because she’s not aboard. She stayed back at Central to organize the transmission of troops from Earth to this ship—and before you ask about Praetor Drusus, you should turn your brain on. He has no intention of wasting his time on this lengthy flight. He’ll join us when it suits him, probably when we’ve arrived in orbit over Green World.”

I thought that over for a good half-second, then I waved my hand around some more.

Winslade sighed loudly. His skinny hands moved up to rest on his hips. “What now, McGill?”

“Who’s our special guest?”

Winslade smirked, and he made a flourishing movement. It was the sort of thing a cute magician’s helper might do—but Winslade wasn’t cute.

We all looked toward the kitchen doors he was indicating. The doors swung open, and out walked the disgraced traitor, Maurice Armel.

The reaction was swift and universal. The crowd howled with hate and anger. People stood up and shook their fists. More than a few apples flew, striking him.

Armel stood proudly, weathering it all with his nose in the air.

Surprising me, I saw Leeza draw her pistol. She lifted it, but I knocked it down again, pinning her hand to the table.

“McGill! Let me kill him. You want to do it too, don’t you?”

“Uh… yeah. But I already did kill him once recently. I flogged his ass good, too. So it’s sort of out of my system.”

Leeza blinked at me in confusion. I understood the depths of her anger. She’d been Armel’s girlfriend for years. She’d even gone off and joined him in his most recent, most treacherous adventures. Eventually, she’d had enough of it, and she’d left him.

Coming back to Earth hadn’t been easy for her. She’d had to eat crap—about a mile of it. Somehow, after a good showing at Edge World, she’d been given a second chance. I thought that was strange… but I’d seen weirder things in my long and storied lifetime.

“Just hear him out,” I urged her.

Reluctantly, she sat back down beside me. I took the moment to examine her speculatively. She was an attractive woman, but not a raving beauty. I happened to know she had unusual habits in bed, and I couldn’t help thinking of such things now, while she scowled at Armel in a fury.

Armel proceeded to stand with Winslade and explain he had no official role with the expedition—that he was merely, as he put it “a guide” for Legion Varus.

That didn’t hold much water with the crowd. They wanted him drawn and quartered. I volunteered to do the honors, if it came to that. This sentiment scored me a mean smile from Leeza.

At last, Winslade got us to settle down and listen. Armel explained that the Skay ran a tight province out at 926, not like our loosey-goosy Mogwa masters. “In comparison,” Armel said, “the Mogwa are like bad pet owners that don’t even feed their animals or repair the garden fences.”

“Huh?” I asked aloud.

“I mean, McGill, that the Mogwa ignore us. They shirk their duties when it comes to protecting Earth, and give us no resources to work with. I served as the enforcer for the Skay in Province 926. They’re radically different. They’re both more effective and less arbitrary. Unfortunately, they’re also as heartless and off-handedly cruel as you might expect a race of planet-sized machines to be.”

“So… which is better?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Probably the Mogwa. At least we can do what we want in this province—most of the time.”

“All right, all right,” Winslade interrupted. “Stop distracting him, McGill. Please, finish your briefing.”

“Of course, Sub-Tribune. Although I’m now only a private citizen—”

This was too much, so I had an outburst. “A private citizen? You’re a prisoner, not a citizen!”

Both Armel and Winslade gave me a sour glance, so I shut up.

“As I was saying,” Armel continued, “I don’t have any official business with the legions. But, I know things…”

He brought up a star map, and he showed where the border of Province 926 was. Essentially, it was the next chunk of space over, an area about a thousand lightyears wide and half that vertically. Our galaxy was only about five hundred lightyears thick in Earth’s neighborhood, despite being over a hundred thousand across. The shape of the whole thing was kind of like Saturn, with a fat round belly in the middle and rings of stars circling on the outside. That’s where we were, on the rim of the tire, so to speak.

He went on and on, going into more detail than I cared to listen to. He explained that the border had a line of automated sentry bots—asteroid-sized things.

“What? Are you kidding me? Are those baby-Skay I’m seeing?”

Armel looked at me for a moment, then back at the images he was playing with on the big screen. He nodded once. “Yes… they are sort of like that. But they’re not offspring. They are smaller, dumber AI beings. They lack both the firepower and the brainpower of their larger cousins. As a result, they’re not considered citizens. Think of them as guard-dogs.”

“Ha! Skay guard-dogs! All right.”

Armel went on, showing how we’d sneak past them, then fly for about a hundred lightyears, going deep into enemy territory. At last, about a month from now, we should arrive at Green World and slide into orbit.

Here, he flashed up some stills that I thought were even more interesting than the guard-dogs. They were real shots of Green World from orbit. The planet was almost entirely covered in water, one giant sea of dark green. Here and there, islands dotted its surface. There couldn’t be more than five percent of the surface that was land, however.

“The largest island is about the size of Greenland,” he said, tapping a smudge of land on the endless green sea. “It is located here, near the equator. The weather will be balmy—but the reception will be quite cold, I’m afraid.”

“Few people are happy when Legion Varus visits their planet,” Winslade remarked, then he gestured for Armel to continue.

“Just so. I’m not able to help you with the details of any tactical operation after this point. I have not walked the surface, nor have I personally seen the facilities that McGill’s video feed has revealed.”

Here, he brought up a second window. It showed the inside of the big warehouse I visited, and the rocky beaches surrounding it.

“I was right there!” I burst out. “That’s from my body-cams!”

“Yes, yes, McGill… Anyway, as you can plainly see, this island isn’t extremely large. I see no mountain range in the middle of it. The whole place appears to be relatively flat and devoid of major features. Was it hot there, McGill?”

“No… it was just a nice normal warm temperature. Something like you’d expect on the coast of the Mediterranean or the Caspian Sea, I guess.”

Armel nodded. “Just so. Dry hot land, but pleasant sea breezes… Hmm. We’ve done some work trying to locate the exact area. There is a large bay with a chain of small islands on the south end of the big island—but that is just a guess on location.”

Winslade cleared his throat. “I’ve put several techs on the topic. Judging by the tilt of the sun and various other readings from McGill’s tapper, we believe the location is indeed somewhere in the southern tropics. In other words, your guess might be correct.”

Armel smiled. “That summarizes my briefing at this point. Are there any questions?”

My arm shot up like a jack-in-the-box, but both Winslade and Armel ignored me.

Winslade pointed into the crowd. “Yes? No, not you, McGill.”

I turned to see Leeza standing behind me. Winslade had been pointing at her.

“I would like to know why we’re trusting this man to lead us into Province 926,” she asked. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and her eyes angry. “This could be a trap. What if that friend-or-foe transmission of his attracts the Skay, alerting them to our presence?”

Armel’s mouth twisted up badly. I could commiserate. There wasn’t anything worse than being publicly confronted by your ex-girlfriend—especially when she was butt-hurt about your old relationship.

The whole situation wasn’t even fair, to my way of thinking. Armel hadn’t ditched her, for one thing. She’d murdered him with a needler and helped me escape his grasp by teleporting out of his quarters at Rigel. To my way of thinking, that made him the injured party.

But you couldn’t even try to tell that to a woman like Leeza. She was hell-bent on making it all Armel’s fault. You could just see it in her blazing eyes.

“I’m trusting that he wants to survive,” Winslade told her. “If we are destroyed, he will be permed.”

Armel’s lips twitched at the mention of a perming, but otherwise, he had no reaction.

Finally, Winslade sighed and pointed at me. All this time, I’d had my hand up, waggling my fingers for attention.

“All right, McGill. What pearls of wisdom do you have for us today?”

My big hand came down, and it leveled off to point at the big spread of food behind him. “When do we get to eat, sir? I’m starving.”

-28-

At first, the voyage was relatively uneventful. About a week went by, during which I tried hitting on every girl aboard ship, but I wasn’t very successful.

Leeza straight-out wasn’t interested. She seemed to be all flustered-up because Armel was around. Worse, she was convinced his very existence was entirely my fault. To her mind, I’d brought her old boyfriend back to Legion Varus just to haunt her. No amount of wheedling, boasting, or offers of wine and companionship could budge her.

Accordingly, I moved on. I tried Natasha, but she wasn’t having any either. That’s the trouble with turning to the second girl in line. She’d watched me follow Leeza around, what with the ship being mostly empty. It was hard for a man to hide his intentions when there were only like five hundred people in a tight amount of space.

Kivi, on the other hand, was too busy teasing Sargon and Carlos to bother with me. There was nothing unusual about that.

Galina wasn’t aboard at all, of course, and… well sir, there just weren’t too many other women left in the passages after all those strike-outs. The ship was damned-near empty.

After the first week, however, more people came aboard. On the morning of the eighth day they set up a direct link to the Mustering Hall. This allowed us to take thousands of fresh faces aboard that had been gathering back on Earth.

I made certain I was on hand for the opening rush the very minute the gateway posts became active, and I stood right up front, too. The column of marching troops was a welcome sight. They were wearing their full kits and carrying their rucks. Marching two abreast, they appeared to be ready for action. We greeted them with cheers and waves.

Carlos found me in the middle of this meet-and-greet. He looked me up and down suspiciously. “Waiting for someone special, Centurion?”

“I sure am, Specialist, and you’re it. You’re going to be my butler today. Go back to my cabin and press one of my spacer suits or something.”

Carlos looked like he might back off—but he didn’t. He knew I had an angle for being here, and it probably wasn’t just to meet randos walking aboard ship from Earth. He tried hard to figure out what I was up to.

I could have ordered him to shove-off, but I didn’t feel like it. He hadn’t done anything wrong yet, he was just mildly irritating by nature.

“It’s Turov, right? That’s it, isn’t it? She’s coming aboard today, and you’re hoping for some sugar.”

“Wrong. She won’t come until we’ve almost reached the target world.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she can wait on Earth until the last minute. Would you rather be aboard Dominus or back home sitting in some restaurant, if you had the choice?”

He nodded. “Hmmm… good point.”

Still, he didn’t leave. He lingered, watching me and the crowd.

About five hundred folks filed by before one officer in particular caught my eye. Her name was Jenny Mills, a centurion in the same cohort I was in, under our dear Primus Graves. Jenny and I had shared a night or two way back, but I hadn’t talked to her much for years. Still, I figured she was the best shot I had today.

“Hey Jenny!” I shouted as soon as she walked onto the deck plates. “Hey look, everybody! It’s Centurion Mills. We can get the party started now.”

She looked around in some confusion, then walked over to where I stood. Carlos wisely melted away, but I saw him tossing appreciative glances at her from behind.

“McGill?” Jenny asked. “I was told you’re one of the primary instigators of this fuster-cluck. Is that true?”

“Guilty as charged. How about we have dinner tonight? I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Um…” she said, and she flicked her eyes to the left. That might be a good sign. If a girl looks at the ceiling, that usually means she isn’t interested. If she looks at the deck, she probably is. But a glance to the side? Well sir, according to the James McGill bible of female responses, that indicated she wasn’t sure.

In short, she was telling me I had a chance.

“Come on,” I said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Five years back—or was it ten now? Jenny had been in action with me on Armor World. We’d had a few moments, a few dates, but then she’d caught me texting another girl and promptly dumped me. All of that was ancient history at this point, so maybe she’d forgotten about being mad.

“All right,” she said finally. “What the hell. I know a shit-storm when I smell one, and you’re always in the middle of these things when they happen.”

“I’m like a force of nature! Let’s go.”

Jenny followed me off Gray Deck. As we left I glanced back, and I saw Carlos shaking his head and making obscene gestures with his fingers. Was that annoying? It sure as hell was. But he hadn’t interrupted. He hadn’t come over and tried to warn Jenny off, or made some kind of loud joke. I considered that to be major progress on his part. If he kept this up, Carlos was going to have to be reclassified as fully human.

Jenny dropped off her stuff at her module, then she walked the quiet passages of the big ship with me. I gave her the whole story—with a few key edits, naturally. She listened to me with big eyes, and before either one of us knew how we’d gotten there, we were standing on Green Deck.

“You remember when I burned this place down?” I laughed.

“Yes. My unit couldn’t exercise for a week.”

I guffawed and carried on. Jenny watched me, but her arms were crossed and her eyes were kind of slitty. That wasn’t a good sign, but I pretended not to notice. It wasn’t until I got to the juicy parts, like when I’d revived Raash and Armel back on Earth, that she seemed impressed.

“So… do I have this story straight? You’re claiming that you not only went out to Rigel and killed two of the enemy—”

“Hold on! It was four, if you count those two watch-lizards Armel had with him.”

She nodded. “Four then, right. After all that, you get two of these traitors revived on Earth? Why?”

I had her going now, I could tell. Her eyes were big, blue and round. Her arms weren’t crossed anymore, either, and I was glad to see it. They’d been squeezing her breasts down so hard I thought they’d go flat.

“That’s just it, see. Big stuff is happening in the cosmos. These two knew the inside story, and I knew they’d both like to get back into the good graces of mother Earth. Accordingly, I brought them home and got them to confess their worst crimes. Central was so grateful to them—and to me—that they were allowed to continue breathing.”

“Really? No prison time? No punishment at all?”

“Well… there was a solid flogging in the deal for old Armel. I did the honors personally. And that crazy lizard—he died kind of hard on the way back here. Sure, we brought him back to life and all, but I don’t think he’s totally happy with his new circumstances.”

“Why not?”

“Uh… he’s kind of blue, now. I mean his scales, his skin. It’s a different color.”

Jenny shrugged. “So what? If I was permed, and I came back as a redhead, I wouldn’t complain about it.”

“That’s what I said! But, according to that big crybaby lizard, there aren’t any blue raptor-types on Steel World. Only the big guys, the juggers, are sometimes blue.”

Jenny blinked a few times as she thought that over. Then she looked up, and she registered horror. “You don’t mean that he’s been genetically altered, do you?”

I shrugged. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“But how could that have happened?”

“Well, you have to understand, out on Dust World they don’t have all the same fancy equipment that we do on Earth. The Investigator has to make-do, see?”

She blinked some more, and then her eyes became squinty again. I hated that look on her face—on any girl’s face.

“You did some kind of bootleg revive on him? With a stew of genes that you somehow got wrong? Why the hell did you do that?”

“It wasn’t me, it was the Investigator.”

“Yeah, but why him? What was wrong with a proper revive at Central?”

I winced a little. I’d hoped to avoid this topic, but Jenny was too smart, too inquisitive. I tried a few dodges, offering her some wine I had in a picnic basket, and such-like. It was all no-dice. She wanted answers, or this date was going to be dead-on-arrival.

“Okay, okay. The problem involved two things. First off, all I had left was one of his claws. There was a little meat on it, but it was kind of messed up by the time I got to Dust World—”

“That’s awful!”

“That’s what I said! But see, the hogs back at Central didn’t want to help much. They claimed all kinds of nonsense about tissue damage and unreadable DNA and whatnot. Anyways, I had his mind in my tapper, so all I needed was a body. The only man in the cosmos who was willing to do the trick was the good old Investigator.”

Jenny looked away, and she gave a little shudder. I hadn’t meant for her to be imagining herself under these awful circumstances. That wasn’t going to buy me squat. In an effort to switch things up, I told her there was something amazing and new at the lagoon.

“What is it?” she asked.

There you go. Curiosity was her weak spot, always had been. She wasn’t curious about tech stuff the way Natasha was, but she couldn’t stand the idea that some cool event had happened without her knowing the details. She liked a good story, and I could spin-up the best of them.

She followed me to the beach, and we walked along together, with me talking a mile-a-minute. Eventually she noticed that there was absolutely nothing new or different at the lagoon, but by that time, we were sipping drinks and smiling at each other.

The long and short of it was she figured I’d given her enough gossip to pay my debts, and we had a sweet time out on the beach when the fake sun went down.

-29-

The next morning we were rolled out of our beds—literally.

A new wake-up-and-scramble system had been installed since our last campaign out to Edge World. Apparently, the brass had done some timing studies and decided we weren’t getting our hindquarters down to Red Deck fast enough.

Accordingly, they’d installed servos that whined and pitched everyone out of our bunks and onto the floor. Grunting and cursing up a blue-streak, I got to my feet and dragged on my uniform. I straggled out into the passages with everyone else in my unit’s module.

“What the hell was that?” Carlos demanded. “I landed on my dick!”

“No harm, no foul,” Sargon told him.

That earned him a dark look. They were still butting heads over Kivi, who was undoubtedly just messing with both of them for fun.

Slamming my hands together, I called the troops to roll-call. Everyone was present and accounted for, so when the floor lit up with red arrows—that meant the combat forces were to follow these indicators—we hit the passages hustling and moving at a trot.

I checked in with Graves, just in case. “Is this a real emergency, Primus?” I asked. “Or a drill—or is it just bullshit?”

“Follow the arrows, McGill.”

I tried to say more, but he’d dropped the connection.

“This is bullshit, right sir?” Harris asked me. He was jogging at my side, listening to the call.

“That’s more than likely. Still, as we’ve gotten no orders calling this a drill, and we’re passing the armory on this deck, I think we should override the locks and help ourselves.”

Harris chuckled, and we handed out weapons. Normally, we kept our rifles in the armory when we weren’t in a combat zone. That was to keep down the odds of an argument turning into a fire-fight between the boys.

Talking to all my officers, I made an announcement. “Since we’re clearly on an emergency footing, I feel more than justified to issue weapons and live ammo to my troops in this moment of uncertainty.”

Barton and Leeson exchanged worried glances, but they shrugged and handed out the guns. A few minutes later, we were jogging along armed and dangerous.

Manfred spotted me at the next junction. His eyes fell on my full armament, and his eyebrows shot high. “What’s this? We’re really going into action? I thought this was some kind of exercise—or worse, a briefing.”

“Better safe than sorry,” I told him.

He nodded, and after frowning a bit, he ordered his troops to make a pit stop as well. As we followed the arrows farther, I saw more units doing it.

“Monkey-see, monkey-do,” Harris quoted to me. “The brass is going to shit bricks.”

“Maybe.”

After another minute passed, Jenny contacted me as well. She confirmed that I was wearing my full gear, and she assumed I knew something she didn’t.

That’s one of the dangers of being a maverick who involves himself in constant conduct-unbecoming. People tended to start rumors over every random thing you did. They saw me as a trend-setter, rather than a loose cannon.

In this case, however, I was happy about the fact half my cohort was arming themselves like it was the end-times. It gave me excellent cover. If everyone had misunderstood the situation, how could I catch all the blame?

The arrows finally converged somewhere unexpected. Instead of heading to Green Deck for an exercise, or to the mess hall for chow, or even to the lifters for evacuation, they led us to an area we hadn’t stepped into for a long, long time.

A set of big vacuum sealed doors let us into the outer hull of the ship. Or rather, the space between the outer hull and the inner.

A long time ago, I’d fought a battle in this airless region of a different transport ship. That was on the way to Death World. The Wur had set up a surprise for us back then: invading pods that adhered to the outer hull, ate through the metal with powerful acids, and weird creatures had slipped through to attack us.

When we got to our rally-point, I looked around and saw most of the cohort was here. Two of the units in the zone had no weapons—just two.

Graves was already there. He walked around, eyeing us with disdain. “You look like grannies,” he assured us. “But at least you’re armed—except for Johnson?”

“Hey, is that Johnson?” I crowed. “When did they make you an officer? I remember when you were noncom, and I seem to recall—”

“Shut up, McGill,” Graves said.

Johnson was frowning at me and Graves. He’d always been an unimaginative man. Not a bad sort, just kind of a dull blade.

Graves gave him a lecture, telling him he’d forget his cock if it wasn’t glued on and such-like. Harris and I grinned ear-to-ear.

“I remember when he punched you in the kidneys,” Harris said, “and you had your knife all set-up, and you cut half of them off for him.”

“Oh yeah…” I grinned harder and cupped my hands over my mouth to make a megaphone. “Did you forget your fingers too, Johnson?”

“Fuck you, McGill!”

Graves shook his head and marched around angrily. Johnson asked to go back and arm his unit, but Graves didn’t give him permission. “We’ve been ordered to man this station. We’re hitting the border to Province 926, and we’re passing the first of their many robotic defenses.”

“Oh, I get it. The friend-or-foe thing. Is Armel for real, or is he not? That’s the billion credit question.”

Graves eyed me. “You’d better hope that he’s on the level.”

“Why me in particular, sir?”

“First off, because he’s your pet. You brought him back, and if anything goes wrong, I’ll make sure everyone remembers that.”

“You’re all heart, sir.”

“What’s more, did you happen to notice our post? We’re guarding the vacuum between the two hulls. That’s got to be the first thing that will be destroyed if something goes wrong.”

“Oh…”

Graves was right, of course. If those border forts—mini-Skay, they’d called them—decided in their AI brains to fire upon us, well sir, anyone in this airless zone could kiss his ass goodbye.

My grin faded as I thought that over. I looked toward Harris, and he was no longer laughing, either.

“This sucks,” he said.

I didn’t even bother to answer.

Instead of talking to the other officers, I went to find Natasha. That was pretty easy, as I had a special HUD inside my helmet that allowed me to track and pinpoint anyone in my unit, dead or alive.

When I walked up, she didn’t look overjoyed to see me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Lots of things. To start with, we’re passing into Province 926 right now.”

“I know that much. What do you want from me?”

Right there, I caught it in her voice. She was miffed, unfriendly. Had she heard about Centurion Mills already?  Damn, this legion was like five hundred blackbirds peeping on a wire. Gossip traveled faster than orders.

“I need to know what’s happening,” I told her.

She shrugged. “We’re in a warp-bubble, James. What can I do from here with a field computer and a tapper? Our sensors are whited-out by the Alcubierre warp field.”

“I know that. I want to know how things are going with Armel. How he’s performing with the friend-or-foe transmission? Are the techs on the comms deck buying it?”

“Oh… oh no, I’m not going to hack into the sensor op people! That’s crazy!” Her voice had down-shifted into a panicky whisper.

“Shhh… Listen, you don’t have to hack into anything. Just listen-in a little.”

“That’s a highly secure channel, James. That’s the definition of hacking.”

“Whatever. Look, if Armel is blowing it, I’d like to know. Wouldn’t you?”

“We probably won’t know until one of those mini-Skay things locks on and blows us out of space.”

“Yeah, probably. But wouldn’t it be better to know now rather than later? Besides which, I might be able to do something about it.”

She eyed me the way a cat eyes a stray dog. “What do you mean? Have you got a lever on Armel—even now?”

I shrugged. “Might be. After all, I’m the one who brought him in, remember?”

She made a frustrated huffing sound and started working on her computer. “These people are dangerous, James. The sensor-ops guys are very touchy about their data.”

“I bet. Try to be discreet.”

Natasha gave me a venomous glance and worked for a while. Finally, she flicked something to my tapper. It was a video feed. I lifted my arm to my face and tapped up the volume.

“For God’s sake,” she hissed, “cover it up with your hand or something!”

“Okay, okay.”

Standing side by side, we both watched our tappers together. I turned down the audio until it was tinny and quiet. That wasn’t the best, but you couldn’t hope for perfection when you were leeching off another man’s secure feed.

We watched a crowd on Gold Deck. Armel was in the center of it. “If you would all give me a little breathing room, please?” he asked the officers that were swarming around him.

I chuckled. “Look at all that brass! They’re practically climbing over each other. It looks like he’s feeding pigeons in the park.”

The crowd backed off a step, and Armel cracked his knuckles. Then he began to peck at an old-fashioned, honest-to-God keyboard. I couldn’t even imagine where they’d scared-up that thing.

Whatever he was typing, the code was a long one. Several times he stopped, cursed, erased it all and started over again.

Winslade couldn’t take it anymore the third time this happened. He waded in close, elbowing subordinates out of the way.

That’s when I got a slightly sick feeling in my stomach. With Galina back home at Central, and Drusus playing hooky as well, Sub-Tribune Winslade was in charge of this operation. I should have known this, but somehow it’d slipped my mind.

“Damn… we might be screwed,” I said aloud.

“Just tell me the code,” Winslade was saying. “I’ll type it in for you.”

Armel slapped his hands away from the keyboard. “Fool. I’m not making mistakes. I’m working a sequence. Each time, the numbers change. I’m in the middle of the process. If you interfere, this ship will be marked as hostile.”

Winslade’s hands jumped out of the way. “Oh, I see. Pray continue.”

Armel went back to the work, and he was pecking stuff, watching the response, then pecking more stuff. It was hard to follow.

“What kind of a code is that?” I asked.

“It’s advanced,” Natasha said. She sounded kind of breathy, kind of turned on, almost. “Algorithmic. One wrong character, and it knows you’re not running the right algorithm. I’m surprised Armel can keep up with it.”

I gripped her shoulders. “Can you duplicate his work?”

“I don’t know… maybe. So far, he’s been increasing the binary code behind each digit typed, then transposing—James, let go of me.”

I had her hand in mine, and I was running off with her. She stumbled behind me like a kid being hustled out of a candy store.

“Just can’t wait, huh McGill?” Carlos asked we rushed by. He made kissy faces at me, but I didn’t have time to bash him one.

We pulled up short in front of Graves. He was standing in front of the hatchway with his arms crossed.

“Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To the bridge, sir. Armel’s typing in the code, but he’s going to screw it up.”

“Why do you think that—and how do you know what’s going on Gold Deck?”

“First off, Winslade is micromanaging Armel. That’s how I know he’s going to mess it up. Secondly, well, take a look.”

I showed him the vid playing on my arm. He was outraged.

“How did you get into this feed? Natasha, I’ve warned you countless times against this sort of thing. Do you realize how many times you’ve been passed up for promotion? You should be working at Central as a primus or something by now.”

“I… I know, sir,” she said, hanging her head low.

“Aw now, don’t go busting her, Primus Graves,” I said. “I got her to do it, and it was for a good cause. Just watch Winslade hovering over him.”

After initially pulling back, Winslade was playing the role of a fly on a turd once again. He was buzzing around Armel and asking stupid questions.

Graves frowned at that. “You’re saying that if this sequence fails, the Skay sentries will attack?”

“Worse. Dominus will be marked for destruction throughout the province.”

Graves gritted his teeth and watched. He squinted his eyes, too. He looked like he was having a bad day in the dentist’s chair.

“All right,” he said at last as he watched Winslade tapping on Armel’s shoulder. “But you’ll never make it all the way up to Gold Deck fast enough. Here, take this teleport harness.”

Surprised, we took it, set it for the bridge, and I put it on Natasha’s back.

“Me, James?” she squeaked.

“You’re right. It’s a short hop, I’ll tag along.”

I grabbed her up in my arms, hunching over her tightly, and activated the harness.

-30-

“McGill? What do you think you’re doing on my bridge?” Winslade demanded when we appeared not ten meters off.

“Graves sent us, sir,” I said quickly. “Natasha here can help.”

“What nonsense! Get back to your post at the outer hull.”

“With a bit of luck, sir,” I said, “we won’t need to prepare for any kind of boarding attempts.” I stepped up to him and put a hand to my face. My voice was a loud whisper. “We both know Armel might screw this up. Let Natasha double-check his homework as he goes.”

“She knows the codes? How?”

I showed him the stream playing on my arm. “We were watching, see, and she figured it out.”

Winslade’s neck twisted around like he was a barn owl or something. “That’s a hacking violation, Specialist Elkin.”

Natasha studied the deck. She didn’t even bother to deny it. That was a good move on her part, as she wasn’t any good at these kinds of shenanigans.

“Look, Tribune,” I said to Winslade. “Who do you trust more? Natasha or Armel?”

“Natasha, obviously.”

“Right, and even if she doesn’t really help much, she might learn the code… for next time.”

That comment did the trick. Winslade’s nose twitched a little. He was on track at last.

“All right… Specialist Elkin, aid Armel. Don’t let him make any mistakes.”

“I need no help, fools!” Armel complained. “I need you to stand back and let me work. There is a timing element involved. Each response must be returned within fifteen seconds.”

Natasha had her orders. She sidled up to Armel and watched him work. Unlike the repulsive Winslade, she found it easy to do this unobtrusively. Armel never complained as she discretely hovered near.

I took a long step backward and gestured for Winslade to do the same. He hesitated, then followed my lead. I breathed a sigh of relief. With Armel and Natasha on the case, they’d either do it—or it was undoable.

Two more long minutes passed. That counted for eight more transmissions and responses. At last, however, Armel stood up and threw his arms high. “C’est fini!”

I unlimbered my big arms and clapped a few for him.

Winslade stopped me irritably. “What now, Armel?”

He shrugged. “Now, you fly as you wish in this province. Do not behave trepidatiously, act as if you belong here. That is my best advice.”

Winslade tapped a skinny finger over his lips. “Hmm… Very well. Helm? Set course for Green World.”

Armel’s gloved hand came up, and he stepped toward us. “Perhaps that would be overly direct. Can you please not give away our intentions so quickly?”

“The last time I checked, the shortest distance between two points is still a straight line.”

“Yes, yes, but if there is another layer of scrutiny, you’ll be giving away our ultimate goal.”

Winslade frowned at him and put his hands on his narrow hips. “Another layer of scrutiny? Did you not just state that we could fly freely in this province from this moment on?”

Armel looked disgusted. “The Skay sentinels are fooled, yes. But there are also enforcer ships here in Province 926. Earth’s fleet performs that service back in our home province, and here, the task is being done by the Saurians.”

“I see… helm! Choose a random course ten degrees off Green World. Every two hours, shift the course again to another random heading, always ten degrees off.”

Armel nodded. “Simplistic, but it will probably be effective. I approve.”

“Good. Now, get off my bridge. All of you.”

Natasha, Armel and I were tossed off the bridge and then Gold Deck entirely. Graves immediately began pelting my tapper with requests for me to report back to the outer hull, but I ignored that for a few minutes.

“So… did you screw us, Armel?”

He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Why would I do such a thing? I’m aboard this ship with you, am I not?”

“Yeah, but you could be planning on a stealth revive someplace else after we’re blown out of the sky.”

Armel laughed. “You’ve been talking to Claver too much. No one wanted to revive me on Earth the last time. Why would I push my luck by rolling the dice yet again?”

After a bit of thought, I decided he was right. He didn’t have a secret army of clones with revival machines stashed someplace. “Uh… okay. Thanks, then. We’ll fly to Green World and take out the trash.”

Natasha was anxious to get back to Graves and our assigned post. While I was talking to Armel, she managed to scuttle off at a trot. I let her go and continued my ambling pace. I didn’t see any reason to hurry back to that airless pocket between hulls.

Armel walked with me alone. We took our time. When we reached an open officer’s lounge, he gestured toward the entrance.

“Would you share a celebratory beverage, perhaps?”

“I would love to, but Graves already wants to kill me as it is.” I tilted my tapper in his direction. It was chock-full of unread, angry messages. They were all in red text, and some of them were blinking.

“I understand. Let me just say something before you go.”

“What’s that?”

His expression was an odd one. He didn’t meet my eye. “McGill, we’ve never been friends. We probably never will be. Let’s assume that to be the case. But, in this single instance, you’ve played the game fairly. That flogging back at Central—I didn’t care for the experience. But it did give your superiors an excuse to allow me to speak. That was your ultimate purpose, was it not?”

“Oh… wow. You figured me out, Armel. I thought I’d pulled a fast-one there.”

He smiled, accepting my bullshit without question. I’ve found that if you can lie while praising people, it’s much more likely to work.

“Yes, well, I do know you rather well. Anyway, as you’ve earned my favor, I would like you to consider something.”

“What’s that?”

“We’ve passed the sentinels. We’ll probably make it all the way to the target world without being attacked. That is what I’ve done for Earth today.”

“Yep. It was a job well done, too.”

“Yes, yes… but McGill… have you considered what this ship will do on the return journey?”

I blinked at him a few times. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“After we’ve attacked Green World—successfully or not—don’t you think that someone might notice?”

“Oh… they might at that.”

“Yes. I see now that the tiny wheels in your head are turning. I will say no more. Good day, McGill.”

With that, he pushed open the door to the officer’s lounge and headed straight for the bar. I watched him do this, but I didn’t really see it.

My eyes were unfocused. I was imagining the near future.

Once we started shooting, the jig would be up. No amount of sending happy-talk coded messages to the Skay sentinels would stop them from converging on us. They were machines, but they weren’t dumb. They would seek and destroy with a vengeance.

All of them.

After having this disturbing premonition, I considered marching back up to Gold Deck to warn Captain Merton and Winslade. But before my feet could take the first step, I experienced a few… after-thoughts.

I’d just gotten a big win with the brass today. Primus Graves still didn’t like me, but Winslade and the others probably thought I was a hero. That would all be unraveled if I brought them a big sack of unhappy thoughts too soon.

Sure, everyone knew that you weren’t supposed to shoot the messenger who brought you bad news. It wasn’t the fireman’s fault if your house burned down, after all.

But that’s not how people really operated. They did tend to shoot messengers who brought them news they didn’t like. In fact, people did that all the time.

Shrugging, I decided to keep the info under my helmet for now. They’d probably figure out the danger themselves and come up with some kind of plan to escape Province 926 after this attack. They must have an exit-plan, right?

Putting these irritating thoughts out of my mind as best I could, I whistled all the way back to my post at the outer hull. Graves scolded me when I finally arrived, and he put my unit as far from the entrance as possible. We were pretty much guarding the big ship’s nosecone from the inside.

That’s when I decided to make the best out of an unpleasant situation. Finding a good spot to loaf, I placed myself behind a massive strut and tried to get some shuteye—but I found that hard to do.

I kept thinking about what Armel had said about scads of mini-Skay sentinel ships converging on Dominus all at once. I saw it play out in my mind’s eye, and it still wasn’t a pretty sight.

-31-

After we crossed the demilitarized zone and entered Province 926 proper, everyone seemed to be holding their breath. My unit stayed on station for thirteen straight hours, and let me tell you, that was no picnic.

Our suits were built for long term survival in space. You could piss your pants, and it would filter down around your toes in these tubes and things. An hour later, you drink it right back. That was pretty cool if you were stuck in hard vacuum, waiting for rescue. But since we were just left at our posts without relief for an absurdly long time, it was annoying and disgusting.

At last, Winslade contacted Graves. I overheard the talk, as I’d gotten Natasha to tap into the command channel by this time. She’d done it at around the fourth hour out of sheer boredom.

“Graves?” Winslade asked. “Are you still standing guard in the ship’s prow?”

“Yes sir. Until relieved, as ordered. The third cohort never—”

“Yes, yes. Excellent. All the others requested relief hours ago. You’re to stand down, Graves. Put your men to bed. Winslade out.”

That was it. Graves had been stoically forcing us to stand at what amounted to the ship’s head-watch—a punishment duty since time immemorial—for no reason other than sheer stubbornness.

We were dismissed, and we left grumbling. Most of the troops headed for the showers and their bunks, but I took a detour in the direction of the mess deck.

The main meal service was shut down, but I managed to scare up some passable fare. About an hour later, my gut was full, and I was feeling good again.

“Ew. You stink, McGill.”

Turning, I saw Carlos come in and sit down. “What kind of an animal thinks of its gut first, instead of cleaning out recycling tanks?” he asked me.

I shrugged. “I dumped it all in the restroom over there before sitting down.”

Carlos wrinkled his potato-shaped nose. “That’s not the same thing. Not at all.”

“What do you care? Are you trying to ask me out on a date or something?”

“No one would date you, Centurion. Not tonight.”

“Wanna bet?”

We talked and ate for about half an hour. At last I grew tired of Carlos, so I said goodnight and stood.

“Heading for the showers?”

“That’s right.”

“Say, um, before you go, sir…”

That line kind of surprised me. Carlos hadn’t called me sir all night. That would normally be unacceptable, but as we were alone right now, I didn’t care. After all, we’d been together since we’d joined the legion on the same day decades ago.

“What is it, Specialist?”

“I’ve heard… rumors. Some people say this rocket-ride is one-way. It’s a suicide mission.”

I stared at him for a moment. “Who says that?”

He shrugged. “People. Anyway, is it true?”

I thought for a full second about what Armel had said. That getting in was going to be easy, but once we started shooting, well… getting back out again wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

Grinning at Carlos, I gave him a laugh. “That’s nonsense. Those robots out there are scary, but they’re dumb machines. Armel switched them off on the way in, and he’ll do it again on the way out. There might be some ships full of lizards chasing us, sure. But they’ll never catch Dominus. Earth’s warp drives are better than the trash they fly around out here.”

Carlos gave me a flickering smile. “Thanks for the update, sir.”

He stood and left. I knew he didn’t believe me. I’d given him an excellent lie, too. Sure, he’d known me for years and all, but it was still galling to be disbelieved so easily.

Worse, I didn’t think Carlos had come up with this rumor on his own. Who had he been talking to?

Frowning, I worked my tapper. There were new “features” on our tappers these days. You could look into the comms history of anyone who was directly under your command.

Now, that was ripe for all kinds of abuse, but I’d never cared enough to use it that way. Even today, swiping through Carlos’ connection records, I didn’t give a rip about what girls he stalked on the grid. I was looking for names—the names of tech specialists.

Unsurprisingly, there was only one name on the list that fit the bill: Kivi.

“Hmm…” I said, studying the pattern of communications. She was sending him direct-messages, every hour or so, even back while we sat on our cans inside the hull. That wouldn’t have been suspicious, except for the fact that Kivi was in the same unit as Carlos—my unit. If she’d wanted to talk to him, couldn’t she have just sat beside him and flirted to her heart’s content?

I thought about opening the texts and reading them, but my big fat finger hesitated. I just didn’t want to see a dick-pic today. Not even one.

Accordingly, I got up and headed down to find Kivi.

Coincidentally, she was just hitting the showers herself—with Sargon in tow. I got the feeling they’d been intimate, then decided to wash up. That was extreme, even for me, but I wasn’t in a judging mood.

“Specialist?” I said, climbing out of my filthy suit and getting into some hot water. Carlos had been right about that part—after a long day, a shower always felt even better than you thought it was going to.

Sargon raised an eyebrow at me. “Is this official business, Centurion, or…?”

He didn’t want anyone horning in on his girl, and I didn’t blame him. “Yes, it really is.”

“All right then. I’ll see you later, Kivi.” He slapped her on her ample butt and left.

She didn’t meet my eye. Instead, she started washing herself in slow-motion. Apparently, her breasts were going to be sparkling when she stepped out of here.

Now, I’m every kind of a fool when it comes to womanly wiles, but even I have my limits. I knew she was distracting me. She was doing a good job of it, too.

“Stop that,” I told her.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“What I don’t like is tech specialists who tap into feeds and listen into command chat.”

She blew a raspberry at me. “As if. Your little doormat Natasha does that trick for you whenever you snap your fingers.”

“She’s my specialist, she works for me. That’s different, I need intel from above.”

“So do I.”

Kivi looked unrepentant. I was annoyed, but it was kind of hard to blame her. The brass treated us like sardines in a can, and they told us very little about what was really going on.

Thinking hard for a second, I thought of a new angle. Kivi had never been as good at hacking as Natasha was. Nowhere near. Hacking her way up to Gold Deck—that was new ground for her.

But then again… Kivi and Natasha were in the same unit together—my unit.

“So,” I said as I rubbed soap into an armpit. “When did you start hacking Natasha’s computer? Does she even know?”

Kivi dropped her soap. It just plain up and sprang out of her hands. She bent over to pick it up, and I got quite a view. Still, I refused to be distracted.

“Come on,” I said. “Talk to me, or I’ll tell her. She’ll shut you out hard. You know she can.”

She glared at me suddenly. “Damn it, McGill, don’t say a word to her.”

“All right then—talk.”

She heaved a sigh. “It was just natural curiosity. Natasha is always doing things that are… let’s call them special missions. For you, and for others. I was curious, and I didn’t want to work as hard as she does…”

“I see. I get it. You hacked Natasha so you could get into all her business on the cheap. That’s clever. What did you learn?”

“All sorts of things. About you being on the Sea Empress before it blew up, for instance. And about how you screwed Raash and gave him those blue scales he hates.”

“Yeah, he does hate that,” I admitted.

“Did you know that he’s aboard ship?”

I snapped up my head. “He is?”

“Yes. Floramel brought him. They came in with the last wave, but you were too busy chasing Jenny Mills around to notice.”

“Huh… I guess they figure he might be a source of intel on the enemy.”

“I doubt it. That lizard was nuts before, and now he’s completely insane.”

“Kinda, yeah. What else can you tell me?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because you’ve been hacking and stealing Natasha’s data stream, and I’m going to tell her if you don’t give it all up.”

She shrugged. “Okay, okay. There isn’t much else to tell. I caught a recording of today’s fiasco up on Gold Deck with Armel and Winslade. That’s when I became worried.”

“Why?”

“Because James, there’s no way we’re getting out of this province alive. Once we start bombing planets, every Skay and saurian for lightyears will come running. That’s what Carlos asked about, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But it’s not preordained, girl. Stop worrying so much. We’ll get in, perform a surgical strike, and flash out of here again.”

“Dominus is fast, but they’ll be behind us—between us and Earth.”

“So what? Maybe we’ll run the other way.”

Her eyes widened improbably large, and she turned off the water. Her skin was nice and shiny when it was dripping wet. “Am I hearing this right? Are we planning to rush blindly into some other province? Into territory completely uncharted?”

I threw my hands wide. “Someone has charted it. Have a little faith, girl. Those pricks back on Earth might not give two shits about Legion Varus, but they don’t want to lose this nice, shiny ship, now do they?”

“Huh…” she said, toweling off. “I hope you’re right, James. I really do.”

She left, and we parted ways. I fell onto my bunk a few minutes later, but it took almost a half-hour to fall asleep. I kept thinking about what Armel had said—and what Carlos and Kivi had figured out.

What were we going to do after the strike was over and the smoke had cleared?

-32-

Klaxons went off all over the ship early the next morning. My men were shoved out of their bunks again. We scrambled into our kits and stumbled into the passages.

Red arrows directed us downward. We followed, trotting and stopping only to grab some basic weapons at the armory. I tried every ten steps to contact Graves, but he wasn’t answering.

“Is someone hitting us?” Carlos demanded. “Are they interrupting our warp bubble? We’re all going to fry when the radiation hits if they don’t shut that down right.”

Carlos spoke from experience. I’d once watched him die in the warp bubble on the outer hull of a battlecruiser. It hadn’t looked like a good way to go out.

“We don’t know anything, Carlos. Shut up, and stick to your ranks. Barton, move your lights ahead of my heavies. Harris, hold the center with me and your boys in the fat-suits. Leeson, you’re bringing up the rear with the auxiliaries.”

“Always a pleasure to be last in a head-long rush, sir,” Leeson said happily.

“You’re a frigging plucked chicken, Leeson,” Harris told him, but Leeson just laughed.

We went down a ramp, then two more. Other units were doing the same thing. They were units from our own cohort.

That’s about when I realized our final destination was Green Deck.

“Aw, come on!” Leeson complained from the back. “This is unscheduled bullshit.”

“It’s always bullshit,” Harris said. “Scheduled or not.” Harris turned a suspicious eye in my direction. “What are we walking into, sir? As our centurion, you’ve got to know.”

I shook my head. “Not this time.”

A big closed set of blast-doors with the number three painted on them brought us to a halt. The light above it was red—no entry allowed.

We tried the doors anyway, of course. They were sealed tight.

Sargon came up to me and slapped my helmet. He gestured with his belcher. “You want I should cut a hole in that door, sir? Three tight beams, all converging—it will cut right through.”

I considered it for a second. I honestly did. “Nah.” Then I turned to the unit at large. “All right, troops. After that filling breakfast, and all those warm-up exercises, we’re primed and ready for a drill here on Green Deck. I’ve heard there will be cold beers at the bottom of the lagoon if we get there first.”

Barton looked at me in confusion. “Sir? No one’s been fed or has exercised or—oh. I get it. You made a funny.”

Barton came from Victrix, and she was still our resident straight-man at heart. There was no joke so obvious she couldn’t miss it at first.

“Yes, it was a joke, Adjunct. Thanks for squatting on it.”

The unit laughed half-heartedly, and some of them began to stretch.  The smartest ones broke out rations and water they’d stashed in their kits for just such a moment.

Harris came to hover around me again. He seemed agitated.

“What is it, Adjunct? Do you need to pee?”

“Sir, can you find out what’s up? Maybe with some help?” He nodded his head toward our techs, Kivi and Natasha.

They weren’t usually in a good mood, and today was no exception. Still, the idea had merit. I walked over and started a hacking spree. We soon got was a glimpse of the security cams from the inside of Green Deck.

At first, it looked like an angelic scene. There were trees, fake sunshine, a few fake birds and a lot of bushes. In the center of the place, the lagoon sparkled like the clearest water Earth never had.

“What’s that?” Harris demanded, pointing at my tapper.

“What?”

“Pan it, pan it back!”

I frowned at him. “Don’t get too scared. There’s probably someone in there setting up an ambush of some kind.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… but that wasn’t a human. It was too… skinny.”

I frowned, spinning back the footage about thirty seconds. Nothing moved for the first ten, then…

“What the hell…?”

“You see? You saw it, didn’t you? A pile of sticks or wires or something. It was walking like a man.”

I had seen something. I didn’t know what it was, but I hadn’t liked it, and there was no way it was a human. It moved with bipedal motion, kind of like a human—but it was too thin and too quick to be a man.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a glitch or something.”

“No! It’s some kind of escaped freak. That’s why we’re down here without orders, just standing guard. Something is loose inside there.”

We both looked at big door number three. It showed no hint of what was hiding behind it.

“Unit, prepare for a fight,” I told the group. “Expect to walk in hot.”

That got them to change gears. People were walking around, slumping against the walls, chatting and generally goofing off. That was the Legion Varus way, after all. You took your breaks whenever you could get away with it.

But a warning from the CO was something serious. They lifted up their weapons and checked their gear. They made sure every indicator was green, and if it wasn’t, they banged on it until it was.

Finally, the big light over the door switched to green. The doors opened, and we aimed a hundred guns into the interior.

“Advance by squads, maintain overwatch. Move inside fifty meters, take cover, and be ready for anything.”

They did as I ordered with precision. No one was bullshitting anymore. That was all over with. This was go-time, and we didn’t know what we were walking into, but it had to be something.

A Legion Varus man soon develops a powerful sense of paranoia. It comes early in a man’s career, and it never leaves him. As far as I was concerned, that was a good thing.

When the lights were all inside, crouching behind every leaf, fake log and puff-crete rock in sight, I ordered Harris to advance with his heavies.

He did so with his gun to his cheek. You would have thought he was walking into a tunnel full of Vulbites rather than the pleasure center of our own transport ship.

But I didn’t fault him. He’d been the first man to notice something was wrong. That kind of paranoid instinct was worth encouraging in a junior officer.

“Centurion,” Barton called to me over command chat. “I’ve got eyes on… something.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, sir—I’ll pass the feed.”

She did so, and I saw nothing at first. The point of view was from Barton’s helmet. I had to zoom in and pan a little over her rifle sights.

Then, I saw it. Something tall, slim, shiny. It was either wearing metal armor, or it was metal.

All of a sudden, I felt a chill run through me. I recognized this thing. It was a practice drone. A robot, like the ones I’d seen back at the Mustering Hall. Usually, they were used for sparring practice, or as shooting targets.

But this one… it was much more intelligent in its movements. It acted like a soldier, a thinking human. It crouched, carried a rifle, and swiveled its head constantly, looking for targets.

Then it spotted us, and it pointed our way with a long metal arm. It was spooky just watching the thing.

A moment later, however, things went from freaky to terrifying. A dozen more robots came out from the trees. Had they been hiding behind every trunk? It was my impression that they had.

“Open fire!” I shouted, marking the enemy robots with my HUD. As a commander, I could put red triangles on certain targets, making sure our fire was concentrated and effective. I didn’t know how hard these robots were to kill, so I did a little over-kill. Each squad got only a single target to shoot at.

And shoot we did. The air ripped with snap-rifle fire. The leaves on the trees jumped. The rocks sparked and popped white dust in the air. 

A few of the robots were knocked flat. They danced and sparked more than the fake rocks did.

“Whoa! Whoa!” A big voice boomed. It was Graves, and he didn’t sound happy—but then, he never did. “Who’s firing without orders? Is that…? Yes, Unit 3. McGill, ceasefire.”

Reluctantly, I ordered my troops to stop tearing up the landscape. I didn’t stop deploying them, however. The heavies marched inside the doors, and behind them Leeson’s gang of chicken-littles brought up the rear.

“Everyone is to hold your fire. Didn’t you notice the robots weren’t fighting back?”

“Who cares?” Harris muttered beside me.

I nodded in agreement. When it came to these “exercises” I took a dim view of rules drawn up in secret.

“As every officer should know by now, these war games never begin outside Green Deck itself. No one is to fire until they’re inside these walls, and the games have officially been announced.”

I opened my helmet, spat a big one, then settled behind my rock again. I rested my morph-rifle on top of it, and used the projected 4X reticle to examine the enemy. They were moving just like us, all on their bellies—if they’d had bellies, I mean. A few of them seemed damaged, they were moving slowly, with limbs tangled up.

“We can hurt them at least,” I told Harris.

He grinned back.

The floating reticle on my morph rifle was new. It didn’t use an optical sighting system with glass and such-like. Instead, it warped a region of air above the sights, which formed a lens of compressed air—I didn’t really understand it, to be honest. When the nerds started talking about applied field theory and all, my brain was late for the door.

But I couldn’t argue with the results. It was useful to have what amounted to a virtual scope on your weapon. All you had to do was click a selector to shift the magnification power, and you were in business.

Graves was still talking, of course, but I was barely listening. I figured all these robots crawling around with snap-rifles weren’t escaped sex-dolls. They were killers, that much was obvious.

My mind churned while Graves droned on about the rules of engagement. Mostly, I was trying to figure out how to cheat these metal bastards.

“…not all our units have taken the field yet, so in about five minutes we’re going to start the live-fire part of the exercise. When you…”

“Five minutes?” Harris complained, flipping open his visor and shaking sweat out onto the ground. He always sweated a lot when the guns came out unexpectedly. “It’s got to be frigging Manfred. He’s always slow off the mark. He—”

“Shut up,” I said. He gave me an evil frown, but he did stop talking. “I think… yeah, I’ve got an idea.”

“What? Oh no…”

I stood up. Quickly, I gestured to all the other commanders.

“We’re moving out,” I said. “Everyone, up and out. Move to the center lagoon, right now, on the double!”

Without explaining anything else—because there wasn’t time—I raced toward the line of robots. They perked up, but they didn’t shoot me down. If there was one thing robots were good at, it was following orders.

“McGill!” Barton called out. She was sprinting up next to me. “Where the hell are we going? We’re running right through them, sir!”

“That’s exactly right. If they don’t get out of the way, try to stomp on some of their wires if you can when you run them over.”

My pack was a little slow to get up and chase after me, but they did it. Not every unit full of soldiers would have done something so crazy. I was proud of my troops. They’d follow me into the jaws of Hell if I went first, and I loved them for it.

Puffing to keep up, my ragged line of troops raced through the brush, sometimes kicking robots and stumbling over fallen trees. I picked up a trooper now and then, set them on their feet, and kept running.

“If you don’t keep up, you’re toast!” I shouted.

That got them lifting their feet a little higher. Ahead, I saw the beach. It was less than a hundred meters off, and I dared to let my heart soar. “We’re gonna make it!” I called out.

But then, like the voice of doom that it was, Graves spoke again. His words were fateful.

“Ah, there we go. Manfred’s Unit Seven is finally in position. You can open fire in three… two…”

“Everyone, hit the deck!” I roared. Soldiers pitched themselves on their bellies all around me. A second later, the air itself seemed to light up. A half-dozen troops who hadn’t thrown themselves down fast enough were instantly hit in the ass and knocked sprawling.

Say what you would about these robots—they could shoot straight.

-33-

“Crawl! Crawl! Head for the water!”

It was chaos. I’d never performed a beach invasion before, at least not on a large scale. The hellish blaze of rounds going over my head gave me respect for that experience.

We were pretty far from the robots, as we’d run right through and past them. They were now at a higher elevation, and the land dipped at the beach, making it harder for them to hit us as long as we stayed low. They couldn’t get a bead on us when we crawled on our bellies.

Not everyone had gotten the message in time, however. A few dared to run in a crouch. They were shot down instantly.

Most of my troops were confused and breathing hard, but they were listening to me, following orders. Those who’d listened moved like snakes on the run. We wormed our way as fast as we could toward the water.

Only one man stood tall and got away with it. He came to stand over me and walked at my side. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t seen his footprints in the wet sand.

“This is pretty insane, Centurion, even for you,” he said. It was my chief ghost, Specialist Cooper. He was a mean little guy with a smart mouth on him. “Why are we squirming our way into the water like a herd of turtles?”

“On your belly, Cooper. There’s lots of metal flying.” Reaching out to my right, I grabbed one of his ankles and yanked. He went down onto his face with a whoop.

“They can’t even see me, sir.”

“Nope. But they’re hosing down the beach, and I gave an order.”

Grumbling, he wormed along next to me. Soon, we reached the lapping water. Farther out ahead of us, rounds were hitting and causing a lot of little splashes.

“Looks like the Satilla River back home—when the fish are biting hard.”

“Remind me to avoid your slice of Georgia, sir. Can you at least tell me why we’re doing this? The robots will just come after us and shoot us in the ass.”

“Visors down, everyone! Seal up your suits and swim for the bottom!” After shouting out these orders, I turned to Cooper. He was a weird outline, an emptiness made visible by the water. He looked like a man-shaped bubble.

“Cooper, have you ever dropped a complex electronic device into a bucket of water?”

“I dropped my mom’s work-scanner into the toilet once—it was an accident, of course.”

“Of course,” I said, knowing he was lying. “These robots have open wire harnesses. I didn’t see any rubber-coated seals in there.”

“Oh…”

We kept scooting along until we were swimming. Some of my troops didn’t make it that far. In fact, seven of them died on that beach. A few had straightened up and run like fools. A few more had hung back too long, not sure if they should follow their unit into the water. After these losers were shot in the ass by a dozen charging robots, they learned the error of their ways. The enemy had realized they couldn’t hit us, so they’d advanced to where they could.

The lagoon wasn’t all that deep. Ten meters at the most, no more than that. But that was all the depth we needed. We squatted on the bottom, and our gear weighed us down enough to keep us from floating away. Since we were in spacer suits, oxygen wasn’t a problem. Our radios even worked decently, but we’d lost our connection with the ship’s grid.

“Why didn’t they give the robots space suits?” Harris asked me.

Leeson answered that one. “Because the brass is cheap. If they gave them a full kit, they might as well use flesh and blood. It’s always about the cost of things—always.”

After about ten minutes, a few of the robots tried to get to us. They walked into the water, and we could see their metal feet. They didn’t go in deeper than their plastic knees, however. They stuck their rifles into the water and fired at us, like hicks trying to shoot fish.

“Jeez!” Harris complained, retreating down to the bottom. He’d been halfway up the slope to the surface. “They’re getting close with some of those rounds. You think they’re smart enough to find spears or something?”

“I doubt it. Cooper! Della! Put your stealth suits on and go up there.”

“What are we supposed to do to the robots?” Cooper complained.

“Take these cables and get a loop around a foot.”

My two ghosts swam up to the line of metal feet. They looped cables around anything they could then snaked away. The robots had visual sensors, but it seemed that their software couldn’t recognize a man underwater in a stealth suit.

Cooper brought a cable down to me, and I had several heavies grab onto it. We yanked the wire—we yanked it hard.

Hooked by the leg, a robot came jouncing down to us. It lost hold of its rifle, and before we could even hammer it to death, the light went out of its camera eye. It went rigid in death, but I put an explosive charge on its chassis and lit it up anyway.

“You wrecked it, sir,” Harris said as he examined the robot.

“They don’t seem to like taking a bath,” I said, and everyone laughed. “Go get me some more of them.”

The ghosts swam off, and we soon had fresh game to beat on. After we’d destroyed maybe seven of these evil machines, they stopped venturing into the water.

It was about ten minutes after that when a big pair of boots came marching down from the shore. We all had our rifles up, and Cooper even tried to loop a wire around one of those black boots.

I could have told him that was a bad idea. Cooper did a fancy dance, then began to float toward the surface in a dark, misty cloud of blood. I noted that the hilt of a combat knife had sprouted from his back.

“Primus Graves?” I called out when the owner of the boots was in range of our intercoms. “What brings you down here, sir? This is dangerous territory. We might have killed you.”

“3rd Unit…?” he said, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “I should have known. Don’t you fools know this exercise has been terminated?”

“Why, no sir. We can’t hear the general ship’s channels down here.”

“You’re hereby ordered to stand down. The other troops have all been destroyed or they’ve surrendered, and it’s time for you to do the same. You’re done with hiding down here on the bottom of the lake. ”

“Hiding? We’re not hiding, sir. We’re costing the enemy dearly. By my count, we’re exactly even. The robots got seven of my men, and we got seven of theirs.”

That’s when Graves noticed the wrecked robots strewn around. He marched around from one to the next, surveying the damage. “These things are experimental. This is going to cost Central millions, McGill.”

“Can’t they just print out another robot?”

“You know damned well they can’t. Was that your plan? To make this experiment costly, and teach the brass a lesson?”

“What? I don’t even know what you’re saying right now. My plan was to survive. We moved to defensible ground, and we destroyed an even number of the enemy. What did Winslade and the rest expect us to do?”

“They expected you to die. Most of the men up top did just that.”

I shook my head and tsked. “Poor tactics. Poor leadership. Maybe I should give a briefing on making the most out of what you have to work with on the battlefield.”

Graves laughed. His voice was rough and gravelly, but he honestly seemed amused. “We’ll do that, McGill. Come on, the robots have been shut down, and they’re being packed up by a team of techs straight from the vaults. The game is over.”

“In that case, we’ll have to take these specimens back to them for study.”

“You do that, McGill.”

Signaling my men, I had them haul the ruined robots up to the surface. They were in pieces, most of them.

When we delivered the broken scrap metal, dripping wet and all twisted up, the techs were shocked.

“Good God! What happened to these units?” the tech leader demanded. She was a prissy thing with a short haircut and beady eyes.

Someone pointed at me, and she rounded on me with a nasty scowl on her face. I nodded to her, standing tall and smiling proudly.

“Sure, we bagged a few. You might want to send a diver down to find the rest of the pieces at the bottom. They seem kind of delicate for combat units, honestly.”

“You did this? You destroyed government property willfully, and now you’re admitting it? Is that what I’m hearing from you, soldier?”

“Uh… yeah, pretty much. What did you expect? These things started shooting at my men. You’re lucky we knew this was an exercise, or we might have wrecked them all.”

“So much damage… all seven of these are a total loss.  I’m reporting this to Central. There will be an inquiry!”

“Good idea. Whoever did the design on these things should be fired—or maybe even shot.”

“What?” she asked, blinking up at me.

I laughed long and loud. “I’m saying they need to find out who was so shit-off stupid as to make a combat robot that can’t take a little water. Do you realize that we’re heading to a planet that’s mostly covered by one big green sea? How do you think these toys will operate in a real battle, where the other side is issued real weapons, and there is real weather?”

She looked down at her wet, wrecked robots.

“You seem forlorn, Miss,” I said. “Take heart. Sometimes, the good Lord delivers his best lessons with a swift kick in the pants.”

I walked off Green Deck after that, and my unit followed me. They were all laughing and carrying on, but it was hard to believe how many dead troops we saw as we left.

Had these shitty robots really slaughtered most of the humans? I was outright embarrassed to hear it.

-34-

The next day was a grueling one. I was given debriefings, a long flogging session, and six hours in the brig. After that, I was forced to sign a long list of promises.

“I’ll never do any of it again, and you can take that to the bank!”

I played the part with gusto. It fit perfectly with my lifelong rule concerning such formalities. Whenever anyone wanted an apology, a promise—or even a solemn vow—I swore to it all without reservation. I gave them what they wanted, and it was my experience that doing so immediately got people off your back the fastest.

Naturally, I never had any intention of following through with my long list of promised changes to my personality. It was all for show, and I think some of them knew it. Still, I stand by my methods. They usually made authority figures shut the hell up.

“McGill?” Graves asked me later the next evening. “Are you out of purgatory so early? Wait a minute—you didn’t break out of the brig again, did you?”

“Absolutely not, sir. I’m offended at the concept.”

“Sure you are… what’d you tell them?”

“Whatever they wanted to hear. I don’t rightly remember the details…”

Graves grinned. That was kind of a rare thing, so I shared the moment with a grin of my own.

He lowered his voice from gravely speech to a low rumble. “You know, in secret, I’m glad you did it. Serves those nerds right. Their robots aren’t even approved for deployment by the Galactics.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Given that the robots are a violation, why are they out here with us on this adventure?”

Graves shrugged. “We’re not in Province 921 anymore, remember? Mogwa laws don’t apply here.”

“Ah… right. I get it. Are we really going to have to fight with these things?”

“I don’t know. They’ll have to put them in rubber suits or something. You probably did them a favor by showing them that weakness.”

“That’s what I told the techies, but it was no dice. Arrogant sons-a-bitches.”

Graves chuckled and bought me my next brew. At least I knew I was good with him—and he wasn’t alone. Several others had come to secretly cheer me on. Everyone under the level of Winslade hated the robots. No one had ever liked getting a beat-down from a machine. No one.

To my surprise, Graves didn’t walk out of the place. Instead, he spun a chair around backwards and sat on it. He stared at me intently. “How are you feeling after that flogging?”

“Uh… not bad. It’s nothing a can of spray-on skin couldn’t fix up.”

He nodded, and he kept staring at me.

“Is there something else, Primus?”

“Yep. Can you guess what it is?”

I shook my head. “Give me a hint, sir. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay… you know how we don’t have the enemy position too well pinned down? Out on Green World?”

“Uh… yeah, sure. I heard some theories. The biggest landmass, south side—you told me yourself, sir.”

“So I did. Can you think of a quick way we can get some recon? Maybe even a fix on the enemy base? I’m talking about the actual location, so we don’t have to spend a day or two scanning the planet?”

I squinched up my eyes, giving it a hard think. “We could use probes, right?”

Graves smiled, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Close—if you’re calling a tele-cast commando a probe.”

“Oh… oh now, hold on, Primus.”

He stood up again, and he clapped me on the back. That burned where my skin had been recently peeled back. “Tomorrow is your lucky day. Report to Gray Deck at 0600—and don’t be late.”

I nodded, and I didn’t even argue. Sure, I was banged up, tired, and this was a suicide mission—but that’s how things went in the legions. Graves had liked how I’d trashed the robots, but he turned around and volunteered me for this hell-ride to Green World anyway.

That night I flopped on my bunk, tuckered out. Something about fighting hard then being punished all day long with meetings and beatings took it out of a man.

But along about midnight, when I was snoring hard, someone tapped on my door.

I came awake with a snort, fumbling out my pistol. No one was in the room, so I set it aside. “Go away!” I shouted at the door. Then I began dreaming again almost immediately.

The lock snicked open.

My bloodshot eyes flapped open. I came up with a knife in my hand. I was growling like a bear.

“Sorry, Centurion,” said a soft voice. “I… I’ll come back some other time.”

My mind caught up quickly. I gave myself a shake and pulled open the door.

Jenny Mills stood there, eyeing me and the deck in turn.

“What’s up, Centurion?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “I thought maybe you needed some cheering up. I mean—they blamed you for the robots and everything. If I’d thought of it, I’d have done the same thing. Those machines chewed up my unit.”

I nodded, and I yawned. “Want to come in?”

“I don’t want to disturb your beauty rest.”

“You already have, and that’s a crying shame—but I’m a man who can accept apologies.”

She looked up at me for a moment. She was thinking it over. I figured I’d freaked her out a little by roaring awake telling her to piss off and all. Girls never liked that kind of greeting.

Finally, she relaxed and gave me a flickering smile. “I could use a nightcap—if you’re not too tired.”

I was tired. Bone-tired. But, when an attractive young lady is interested, there’s always a little more juice in my battery. I took her hand, led her inside, and fed her some spirits. We made a night of it, until I rolled out of bed around 0530 to get ready for my scheduled Gray Deck jaunt.

“Where are you going? Do you run your troops every morning, even after yesterday?”

“Usually, yes. But today is special. You know this place we’re headed to?”

“You mean Green World? I guess, but I’ve never been there.”

“Well, I’m going to visit the place early. I’m being fired out of a cannon to scout the planet for the brass.”

Jenny looked shocked. “You’ve drawn a suicide mission? Because you broke a few robots? That’s not fair.”

I shrugged. “Nope. These things never are. Wish me luck.”

She gave me a small kiss, and her voice was hot in my ear. “Luck, James.”

I gave her tight little butt one last squeeze, then she slipped away, saying she had to go before everyone in the unit knew she’d spent the night in my cabin.

Unfortunately, I was pretty sure they all knew by now anyway. When you’ve got two female techs in your unit, and they’ve both slept with you in the past, well sir, there’s no such thing as privacy.

-35-

Half an hour later I was still yawning and scratching. I found myself stuffed into a casting couch, and the damned thing was a bit too short for my lengthy person. I barely cared. If part of me strayed out of the field and I died, or whatever, well sir that could only speed up the whole process.

Casting was another form of teleportation. There were three ways to transmit yourself around the universe, to the best of my knowledge. One was to use gateway posts. These were great devices, as they permanently linked two spots that were up to a thousand lightyears apart. As long as they were powered, you could walk through them and find yourself walking out the other side, and it felt like it was only an instant later.

What I didn’t like about that method was the fact it was all a lie. What really happened was you got unmade, disintegrated molecule by molecule, and your reassembly data was transmitted to the other gateway. There, the system put you back together again.

That all sounded pretty cool until you heard the snap and pop of bodies being blasted apart. It left a hot smell that lingered, and I wasn’t a fan of the whole process.

The second method wasn’t perfect, either. It involved wearing a suit or a harness. This system also had limited range, and you were aware while you were traveling. Every second, you moved about a lightyear, and you felt like you were dying the whole time. Just try holding your breath and counting slowly to a thousand if you want to know what it’s like.

The last method, most recently developed by the spooks under Central, was the most diabolical of all. It was called casting because your existence was sort of thrown into the void. The cool part was that the techs kept a quantum tether with the subject, and were able to observe what he was up to for about ten to twenty minutes.

The bad part was there wasn’t any way to get the fellow back. Being clever, resourceful and cruel, the techs had devised a solution to this problem. Their usual approach consisted of having the commando kill himself at around the fifteen minute mark. That way, he could make certain his observers witnessed the event and were convinced he was dead. They could then print out a new legal copy back home.

That was the system I was strapped into today. Naked as a jaybird and twice as ornery, I found myself growing impatient as I waited to die.

“Where am I going, exactly?” I asked a bored tech girl.

She shrugged, and she didn’t even look at me. “Some planet called Green World.”

“I know that, girl,” I laughed. “Where on Green World?”

She glanced at me. She was messing with settings and spinning up a fusion generator. That wasn’t enough power to fire my ass all the way across the cosmos, of course. It was just enough to power up the containment field. The surge of power the device needed to send me on my way required her to connect up thick cables directly to Dominus’ engines.

“I don’t know, Centurion. They’re just a lot of numbers they gave me. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

I grumbled, and I slouched back onto the too-small couch. “They probably pulled the coordinates from one of those original squid-made teleport suits. They had Green World down as one of their six selected destinations. Did you know that?”

“Uh-huh…” she said, not listening to me at all. “Could you just relax for a minute, sir? I need to punch this data in without making a mistake.”

“All right, all right. I’ll shut up. But, say—”

I’d been about to propose a date, although my heart wasn’t in it, when she suddenly threw a big switch, and the machine began to shiver and light up.

“Okay, pull your feet and hands in, please. That’s right, ball-up tight. You’re too big for this unit.”

I did as she said, and I winced a little. Being converted into a bright ball of plasma never felt natural to me.

“Remember,” she shouted to be heard over the whirring machinery. Every passing second, it revved up in volume and intensity. It was beginning to throb already. “Remember, McGill: you’ve got twenty minutes max to die. After that, you’re permed.”

I nodded, trying to tell her that I’d ridden the first of these devices they’d ever made, and that I’d teleported my first time about when her daddy was cutting his first tooth—but I never got the chance.

Suddenly, the world went white—then it was gone entirely.

The trip wasn’t a long one, fortunately. When I appeared on a rocky shoreline, I was only slightly out of breath.

Overhead, the sky was a dark, gray-green. The ocean off to my right was almost the same color.

It was raining, and the drops splattered on my bare back. I stood up from my crouched position and looked around, taking stock of things.

“Well this is a loser,” I said, staring at the beach. “Hey techs, if you’re listening, this is the original beach I visited back in the day. I recognize the Wur hut up there on the rise.”

I pointed upslope, and I waited for some orders or something—but there was nothing.

Hmm… that wasn’t a good sign. The last time I’d done this casting business, I’d been in contact with the people who’d tossed me down into the depths of the Moon. They’d come up with improvements, and they’d said they could talk to me as well as hear me.

But not this time. I experimented with a few hoots and hollers, but it was no good. Either the connection had broken, or it was only one way on this rig—or maybe the range was too great. I wasn’t sure which was the case, so I proceeded as if they could still hear me.

Striding down the beach, I was soon soaked. The world was chilling my balls down pretty good, as I was wet and getting buffeted by thirty kilometer an hour winds.

I immediately thought of how nice a suit of special-made Vulbite-made armor would be right now, and I wished I was wearing one. That wasn’t in the cards for two very good reasons: one, you couldn’t take anything with you when you rode the casting couch. Two, I’d heard the top brass had sucked up all those suits for themselves. The Vulbites could only make about one a day, and once you got through every clown with stars on his shoulders, I figured it would take years to get down to grunts like me who actually needed it.

Left with no other choice, I shrugged off my minor discomforts. I walked barefoot up to the old Wur building and poked around inside.

The place was just as abandoned as it looked. A few ten-legged crabs scuttled away—that was it.

“In case you guys are listening in and recording all this,” I said loudly to no one, “this trip looks like a bust. I’m going to swim out into the sea and drown myself. That’s probably the easiest way to end this fiasco.”

Turning away from the abandoned building, I strode directly toward the waves. The rain was still going. It was coming down a little harder now, if the truth were to be told. I was anxious to get this over with.

When my feet splashed into the waves about knee-deep, I heard an odd sound. It was a thrumming, sort of. An unnatural sound.

Turning around and scanning the sky and the seas, I gazed north, east, west—there it was! Something was up in the air, coming in fast. It was helicopter of some kind, but it didn’t have any visible props.

“You getting this, guys? I hope you are. I don’t know what kind of aircraft that is, or what it’s doing, but I’m gonna have to run to make it to deep water.”

So saying, I picked up my naked feet and started splashing. Unfortunately, the beach was as much rock as sand, and my soles were soon banged up, and I was cursing something awful.

There was a ripping sound overhead. The copter—or whatever it was—had pulled up and was hovering above me. The water was flooding away from me in a circular pattern. I thought about throwing myself into the surf, but there wasn’t any point yet. It was just too shallow. Not even I could manage to drown myself in a few centimeters of water.

Running now for all I was worth, I made it to bigger waves, but they were less than a meter tall. Green World’s ocean wasn’t very turbulent, as it lacked a big moon like ours.

Still, I didn’t give up. I picked up my feet, lifting them up high so I wouldn’t be dragged down by the surging sea. If I could just get to where it was deep enough to dive down…

That’s when everything went dark. Was that helicopter landing on my ass? That was the impression I had, and I dared to glance over my shoulder and up.

It wasn’t landing on me. Instead, it had tossed down a spinning metal net of cables.

“Oh, shit…”

I dove into the waves. I tried to swim like one of ten-legged crabs I’d spotted on the beach, dragging myself over the sand and rocks on all fours. I had to stay low, I had to—

The net closed over me. They hadn’t been fooled or even slowed down by all my efforts. Instead, the net of cables wrapped me up, and I felt a jolt of electricity.

It was nothing to write home about. I’ve been shocked any number of times, and this wasn’t a killing dose. Not by a long shot.

But it did numb the nerves and cause a surprising level of pain to my entire body. Maybe it was worse because I was wet and in contact with the ground. I could only guess.

The long and the short of it was things didn’t go my way. I was scooped up like a mackerel in that net, and I was hauled up into the strange craft that hovered overhead.

Sure, I struggled and cursed and tried to tear loose of the trap. My only thought was to somehow break free and drop into the ocean from a serious height. With any luck, I’d be drowned in that dark cauldron of water.

But I wasn’t successful. Despite my best efforts, I was hauled aboard the strange aircraft.

There, the greeting wasn’t a warm one. Six figures with dog-like snouts huddled around me in my net.

“Hey boys,” I said. “How’s tricks? You want to fetch me a stick, or sniff my butt?”

Either they didn’t like my jokes, or they weren’t the friendly kind of dogs. They lifted black clubs and beat me with them. They struck my ribs, my limbs, my balls—and at last, one of them landed a good one on my skull.

I passed out and knew no more.

-36-

When I awakened, I was mildly worried. I’d kind of hoped they would have killed me while the folks back home monitoring the casting device were watching. There seemed to be little chance of that at this point.

The first clue came when I saw the dawn light coming in all pink and pretty on the horizon. The helicopter-thing had a few windows, and the first gleams of sunlight were unmistakable, and they were coming in at a nearly horizontal angle.

“Oh… shit…” I said, rubbing at my hand.

A dog-man stood up and approached when I awakened. He was fuzzy, if not outright furry. I thought I saw the fuzz on his back lift his shirt a little as he bristled, but it could have been my imagination.

I glanced down at the stick in his hand. It was black, like the ones they’d used to work me over last night. It wasn’t fancy with electric shock capabilities—nothing like that. It was a stick, and this dog liked his stick.

He stared at me, lifting his dark lips from his teeth now and then. I sat up and nodded to him.

“Nice doggy. Where’s your master, boy?”

The stick came up again, and I thoroughly expected to get my second beating of the mission—but it didn’t come.

Instead, a small, feminine hand touched dog-boy’s elbow. The stick lowered.

“Let me talk to him, Sergeant.”

My mouth dropped open, but it really shouldn’t have. I knew that voice, I knew that hand—it was none other than Abigail Claver.

“Seriously?” I asked her. “You came out here to pick me up?”

“Of course, James. I know you pretty well. You told me about meeting the Wur out here at this lab complex, so I figured Central might get around to sending an agent here to take a look around. I’m kind of surprised to see it was you again, however. Weren’t you reassigned to doing some kind of fruit inspection at the docks, or something?”

“Something like that, yeah. I didn’t do too well. They didn’t like when the Sea Empress blew up, I guess, so they sent me out here to look around.”

“I see…” she eyed me, and I could tell she wasn’t entirely believing me. But at the same time, she didn’t seem to know about the approaching transport full of legionnaires, and I wasn’t going to tell her about that.

“Well,” I said clapping my hands on my knees and starting to get up, “I really should be getting back to Central. There’s nothing really to see out here, is there?”

Dog-boy twitched and rose up on the balls of his feet—if he had any. He was like a watchdog straining on his leash.

Abigail sighed. “No, there isn’t much out at your arrival spot. Unfortunately, you’re about to see something much more worthwhile.”

“Uh… maybe you could just fire me back toward Central? I’ve seen nothing more than a few two-legged hounds and this weird copter.”

She shook her head sadly. “You’ve seen me, too. Besides, I’ve got orders—I can’t just let you go again.”

“Let me go? Last time, you shot me.”

“Right. No more easy ways out for you, I’m afraid.”

I sat back and she gave me a tube of piss-warm water. This went well with a tube of greasy nutrient paste. I ate without gusto.

“What’s the deal with the dog-men?” I asked her. “I’ve never seen the like before.”

“You haven’t? Ah, well, I can see why not. You’re not from around here. You see, my brothers and I have gotten into a new trade.”

I eyed her, and I almost didn’t ask. But then, curiosity got the better of me. “What kind of trade? You running a puppy-farm?”

“Sort of. Remember when we used to use the revival machines to churn out primitive Claver Threes?”

“Sure do.”

“Well, we kind of ran out of gas on that idea. Revival machines are in short supply right now what with you Earthers having moved the manufacturing business away from the border.”

“Ah, so you’ve gotten into something else? How did you come up with this guy?” I jabbed a thumb at the hound, and he looked like he wanted to bite it off for me.

“He’s quite an achievement, actually. He’s a genetically designed hybrid humanoid. We’re quite proud of the breed.”

I nodded, finishing my breakfast paste with a grimace. As a prisoner, you never knew how long it was going to be before you saw your next meal, so I had a strict policy of finishing my food, even it if tasted like barf.

“Who’s your buyer?” I asked conversationally.

“The rebels, of course. They’ll take anything and anyone in their quest to put down Earth. Even humans are welcome, if they’re notorious enough.”

I thought about the Clavers and men like Armel. They were indeed renegades, traitors of the worst stripe.

Before I could ask for a place to piss, I felt the copter lurch and begin spiraling downward.

Outside the only visible window, I caught a glimpse of dark green seas and a long beach with crashing breakers. “This can’t be the same place you came from to pick me up. You reached me too fast.”

“That’s right. This is our main camp. I was out patrolling around when you tripped every alarm back at the old lab.”

Just my luck. If she’d been a few hundred kilometers farther away, I probably would have drowned myself out of boredom and been back home by now.

But noooo, I had to go and get picked up by Fido and his pack. Sucking in a deep breath, I was already planning out how I could kill as many of these jokers as possible. Maybe I’d even gain control of the copter—but I didn’t think I could fly it.

And Abigail? Well, if she got in my way and didn’t step aside, things might go badly for her, too. After all, we’d both killed the other more than once in the past.

One thing held me up, however. If I made a move, and I failed, well… I might be permed. Or at least, I’d be at the mercy of Abigail and her brothers. If they wanted to leave me dead, they could—for as long as they wanted.

Remembering an old lesson from Claver himself, I yawned and stretched. Abigail and the dog-dude eyed me. They both knew I wasn’t tame. Not by a longshot.

The copter landed, and the engines died. I climbed out with a dog at each side, and one behind me. Abigail led the way.

The base was impressive. There was hustle and bustle everywhere. I saw at least a hundred dog-men doing things—driving lifters and such. There were even a few squids helping out—and what was that? A team of Vulbites down on the beach? Damn, every human-hater I knew of seemed to be on these islands.

“Say,” I said loudly as we reached the warehouses, “you wouldn’t happen to be in a trading mood today, would you, Miss Claver?”

Abigail stopped walking and turned around slowly. Her eyes were narrow with suspicion, but there was also a yellow gleam of greed in there. There always was when you dealt with a Claver.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Probably best I wait to bring it up until I meet someone in charge.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh… like… one of your brothers? An authority figure, so to speak.”

She put her hands on her shapely hips and glared up at me. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

“No ma’am. It just comes natural.”

“Right… well, I’m in authority here. You see this? This is the same base you first arrived at nearly a week ago.”

I looked around, and I was impressed. I recognized the place all right. “Yeah, I know it—but last time, this place was deserted.”

“That’s right. Our plans have been stepped up. We’ve gotten word from Earth that Central knows about us.”

“Is that so?”

She eyed me, and she took out her pistol. She checked the charge and snapped the breach.

“James, you and I have had a lot of good times together, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to put you on ice for now. I don’t have time to entertain guests. Maybe, after everything is finished here, I’ll put in a revival order for you. Just for old times’ sake.”

“That’s mighty nice of you, Miss Claver.”

“I like to think you’d do the same for me—but now, if you don’t mind—”

“Hold on a minute. Don’t you want to even hear the offer?”

She hesitated. She knew me. Of every human on Heaven, Hell or Earth, I was quite possibly the slipperiest of all of them—with the possible exception of her and her brothers.

Finally, she sighed. “All right. Give me your pitch—but make it fast, will you?”

“No problem. I know you’re a busy woman. Well, here it is: Earth’s on the way here right now with six ships. They’ll be crossing the border into Province 926 in a few days. I’d say they’ll be here in a week, tops.”

Her expression flickered, but she managed to laugh at me. I could tell my words had made her nervous, but she was determined to keep up a brave front.

“That is total horseshit, McGill. I don’t blame you for trying to bamboozle me, but there’s no way they could invade 926 in force. The Skay will stop them.”

“What? You mean with those little, drone-like Skay they’ve got strung along the border? We’ve got a way to get past them.”

Abigail looked alarmed. She was trying not to, but she was failing at it.

That’s when I heard some crunching boots behind me. I turned to glance over my shoulder.

“Now, how in the nine hells do you know about those Skay drones, McGill?”

It was another Claver. A real Claver. A Claver-Prime, and he didn’t look too happy to see me.

Abigail seemed miffed. “I was just about to get that out of him, brother, if you don’t mind.”

Claver made shooing motions in her direction. “You’re too close to this. I’ll take care of it. Go on break for an hour.”

He whistled then, one short, hard blast that came out of the side of his mouth. The two dog-boys on either side of me clamped onto my arms. I was kind of surprised. They had some serious strength in their gray-black fingers.

Maybe I’d been wrong about them, I realized. Instead of being a cross between men and dogs—what if they were part gorilla instead?

It was an unpleasant thought, but the power in those gripping hands, and the look of those primitive fingers… Once considered, I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind.

Abigail retreated, and with her I saw my best hopes of an early escape leaving me behind. I turned to face Claver and tried to toss him a salute.

The dog-men grunted and dragged on my arms like I was making a move. I pretended not to notice, despite the fact their fingers were making deep indentations on both my arms.

“Hey, Claver. Nice to talk to the real-deal. Listen up, I’ve got information that—”

He hauled off and belted me then. One in the mouth, then two in the gut. Fortunately, I tightened up before he landed these last two and I barely felt them. The shot to the jaw, though—that had hurt a little.

“You finished?” I asked him. “Or maybe you want to kick me in the balls, or something. Here, I’ll make it easier so you don’t miss.”

I splayed my legs helpfully and grinned at him.

Claver cursed and shook his head. “I know there’s no point beating on you, boy. I might as well kick around a sack of meal. You’re almost as dumb as these pit bulls for coming out here. You know that, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “Orders are orders. You want to hear my pitch, or not?”

He sighed. “All right, let’s hear some bullshit. It’s too early in the morning for it, mind you, but—”

“Armel is going to do it,” I said.

Claver snapped up his head to look at me. “Armel? What are you talking about?”

“Have you noticed he’s dead? Or rather, he’s gone AWOL from Rigel?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Was that your work?” He laughed out loud. “I did hear some crazy shit raided Rigel and killed some lizards. I didn’t hear about Armel, though…”

“Easy enough to check.”

Claver was looking at me with the same narrow-eyed suspicion Abigail had given me, but I didn’t mind. If I were him, I wouldn’t have trusted me, either.

“Come on, dammit. Up to the comms building.”

We trudged over the beach. The two ape-dogs half dragged me over the sands. I didn’t mind, as I had nowhere better to be.

Inside the comms building was a deep-link machine, as I’d expected. Claver got on it and sent a few choice messages. He soon got an answer back from Rigel.

The Rigellian voice sounded like they all did, kind of wavering, like he was underwater or something. “It is confirmed. The commander of the Saurian legion has failed us. He teleported away with an Earth agent.”

Claver shut down the unit and turned slowly to eye me. “I’m not just suspecting you of lying now, McGill. This is much worse. I’m suspecting you might be telling the truth!”

I shrugged. “As God is my witness, Armel is working with us now.”

“How does that change things?”

I examined the ceiling of the comms hut. “Well now, a genius like yourself might be able to figure out this riddle. You’ve got a man who was, until recently, working for the Skay in Province 926—”

Claver stood up suddenly. “As their local enforcer! He’ll have the codes! Dammit, I never should have trusted that French snake!”

He threw me out of the place and made several more desperate calls. After about ten long minutes—during which I learned that there is no creature among the stars less interested in conversation than a couple of gorilla-dog-men—he finally reemerged.

“That could have gone badly,” he said. “Earth can’t be allowed to fly ships through our borders. Skay command has been alerted, however. The codes will be changed. Oddly, I’m in your debt, McGill.”

“Yep—and it’s time to pay-up.”

“What?”

“You said it yourself: you’re in my debt.”

Claver laughed. “And what is it I can do for you, McGill?”

“Send me home, of course. A quiet transmission through the deep-link. Maybe a revive upstairs in that VIP lounge they’ve got for that purpose up at the top of Central. That’d be nice.”

“You heard about that place, huh? All right, as you’re useless and fairly harmless… and you did me a turn, I’m willing to do just that. After your legion ships are met at the border of 926 and blasted out of the sky, of course.”

I blinked at him. “Uh… what?”

He laughed and slapped me on the cheek several times—hard. “Did you really think I was going to put a lollypop in your mouth and scoot you out the door like a scamp that’s been shop-lifting comic books?”

“Sorta… yeah.”

“That’s not happening. When Earth’s fleet hits the border and is turned back—or better yet is destroyed—I’ll give you a private back-rub if you want one. Until then, you’re my least welcome guest. Take him away, Rover.”

* * *

Six long days passed after that. I ate paste, watched the waves through some rusty bars, and teased the dog-men as best I was able. During that entire time, none of them so much as lifted his leg and pissed in my face. They did snarl, now and then, but they obviously had orders to avoid my enclosure.

I’ll tell you, I was a sorry sight. Here I was, the late great James McGill, a prisoner of dog-people. What a grim fall from grace for a man like me.

Abigail never even came to visit, despite my constant asking for her. Either the dog-boys didn’t get the message, or she had reasoned that it was best for her not to come and see me. She might have felt sorry for me and either killed me or let me go.

It was on the sixth day, however, that everything changed. It was about noon local time, as best I could estimate, when the whole camp came alive. A weird siren began to wail. It didn’t sound like a traditional horn-sound. It was more of a deep moaning, like someone had caught a sea-dragon and begun to viciously twist its monstrous tail.

I could tell it was a warning sound from the reaction of everyone in sight. All the dog-men, the squids, and even the occasional Vulbite starting racing around. They kicked up sand and rocks in an all-fired hurry. There were some gun emplacements and missile stations along the beach, and they moved to man these as quickly as possible.

Looking up, I didn’t see anything. Shifting my gaze out to sea, I found that it was empty, too. Even the horizon was bright and clear. A few scudding clouds maybe, that was about it.

Squinting and shading my hand with my eyes… what was up there? On the horizon? A gray shape, lurking just above the clouds? Could that be…?

Yes, it was a ship. A big one in low orbit.

“Hot damn,” I said to myself. “They finally got here.”

-37-

Dominus had arrived. Confirmation came when a loud speaker made an incomprehensible announcement that rang out all over the base. Then, the missiles started flying.

Seven missile pods. That’s what I counted. They were set along the island’s highest ground, like bumps on a gator’s back. Each one opened with a spreading flower of metal, rolling back their blast shields. Twin missiles on every platform swung with precision and released two big flaming meteors. Seven pairs arced into the sky side-by-side and roared away to the west. They raced up and up to meet the big ship malingering in orbit.

“A front-row seat to an invasion,” I said to nobody. “Cool.”

Small footsteps crunched on the sand. Panting, Abigail stopped at my cage and looked inside. I could have grabbed her and maybe strangled her—but what would have been the point to it?

“McGill? What’s this? That ship is invading our planet!”

“Yep. Just like I said. Now you know I was telling you the truth.”

“But we warned the Skay. They should have changed the codes by now.”

I nodded. “Maybe they did. I only see one ship—maybe the Skay got the others.”

All this talk of more ships was horse-hockey, of course. There had never been more than one ship, and it had slipped through the gates long ago. But, from her point of view, I’d been as honest and helpful as the day was long.

Abigail breathed in small gasps, and she looked up at the sky in fear. “Shit… We’re not ready for this.”

“I gave you a week’s warning, girl!”

She looked at me, and I could tell she was doing some hard thinking. “I’ve been avoiding coming out here, you know.”

“I noticed. It’s been kind of lonely.”

As I said this, a second volley of missiles leapt up into the sky. The defensive batteries had reloaded, and they weren’t taking any chances. We couldn’t talk for a while due to all the roaring of rocket engines.

I got the feeling from Abigail’s visit that she thought we were doomed. I figured she was probably right.

After the roar died down from the second launch, Abigail looked at me again. “I… I didn’t trust myself. I’ve been lonely on this rock, too.”

That kind of surprised me. I’d figured she didn’t give two shits about me. Hmm… Her admission had possibilities.

“Uh…” I said. “How could you be lonely? As far as I can tell, you’re the only female on this base.”

“So what?”

“Well, I thought that with all these men around… you know, dog-people are probably into humping legs. Then there are several Clavers of various flavors.”

“My brothers and these stinking dogs? You thought I would be interested in them? Ew! No way, McGill. What do you take me for?”

“Uh… sorry, I guess I wasn’t thinking like a girl.”

While we talked, we couldn’t help but watch the sky. The first volley of missiles had broken the line of clouds to the west by this time. Without warning, they all blossomed into brilliant points of light. A rippling set of flashes went off, and we both averted our eyes, cursing.

When I got up off the piss-stained floor of my dungeon, I saw Abigail’s head was up as well. She had sand dripping off her face.

“How did they set off all the warheads?” she asked.

“I don’t rightly know. Some kind of field-manipulation, I’d suspect. Our ships are getting more advanced these days, you know—oh, and you should probably take cover.”

“Why’s that?”

“The shockwave will be coming our way in the next few—”

I broke off, because I saw a white wall of mist, water and force spreading toward us. It came over the sea at about three thousand kilometers an hour, if I remembered my schooling correctly from my days of being a weaponeer.

Abigail made a noise—it was kind of a little squeak. She looked around desperately, but there was no bunker in sight she could reach before that wave hit us.

Feeling an ounce of pity, I popped loose one of the bars I’d been grinding on over the last week. It came free like an old tooth and made a space just wide enough. I reached out a long arm and dragged her down into my dungeon with me.

She struggled a little, and she might have even bitten me, but I ignored all that. I got her down by my side, hugging the wall and crouching.

Then, the blast-wave rolled over the island. Dirt and debris shot straight through the bars of my crappy window, and I couldn’t hear a thing for about thirty seconds.

When the smoke cleared, we were both choking and wheezing. Alarms were beeping everywhere. It sounded like we’d tried to steal every aircar in a parking lot at once.

“James? Are you going to let go of me?”

I blinked and tried to wipe my eyes clear of dust, but it was a losing proposition. My sweat and spots of blood had turned the coating on my arms into gray grime.

“You got any water?” I asked her.

She handed me a bottle, and I squirted it into my eyes. I’d let her go by then, but she didn’t even try to climb out of my cell again.

“Do you think we got a dose of radiation?” she asked.

“I don’t see how we could have avoided it.”

“Dammit. My brothers were crazy to start all this up again with Earth. We’re going to lose all over again.”

“That’s what Armel said. He figured the rebels almost always lose rebellions, so he switched sides again.”

“Then he’s not as dumb as I thought. Shit…”

“We should be getting out of here.”

I could see her face now, and she looked at me in honest concern. “Why? Are they going to bomb us next? You think they’d use their broadsides?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. They’ll want prisoners. They’ll want to see if this has spread to more planets.”

She dared to peek up out through the bars again. “They’ll land, then? A drop from space?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. That’s not protocol. We’ve still got air defenses, so they’ll send a wing of fighters first, to knock out all your guns and missiles. After that, the troops will land.”

“I don’t believe this is happening… come on, let’s get out of here.”

Abigail took my hand, but she didn’t go to the barred window and wriggle her way out. Instead, she pressed her arm against the door where the door handle should have been. It recognized her tapper and popped open.

Frightened dog-men growled at us, but they let us go. She ordered them out to man the AA guns. They humped away with a loping gait.

“They looked like they were about to shit themselves,” I laughed.

“They should. Come on, that door has an alarm on it. My brothers already know you broke out of prison.”

“Uh… okay.”

I felt like mentioning this was all her idea, and she was the one that had done all the breaking-out, but there was no point to that. I was either in this escape or not, and I didn’t see any percentage in waiting in my cell until I was atomized.

We ran down a few dirty, cramped tunnels until we reached a chamber with rocky walls. A metal dome stood overhead, and a parked copter sat under it.

“This is the heliport. Should we launch now, or should we wait until the fighters hit us?”

I put my hand lightly over her mouth. She flinched away. “Let me listen and think for a second.”

She shut up, which was nice of her, and I listened. At first, I didn’t hear anything ominous, but then I caught it. A distant screaming sound of wind moving fast through turbo-props and ram-jets.

“Get up against the walls.”

That’s all I had time to say, and we moved close and hugged stone. Soon, explosions echoed. The ceiling bled dirt, and the chamber rocked. Everything in sight vibrated and every light flickered. We were being bombed.

The AA guns chattered, of course. They sent up thousands of hot bolts into the sky. I thought I heard a fighter go down, crashing onto the island somewhere, but it could have been something else.

“They must have launched the wing even before they took out the missile barrage,” I told Abigail. “The fighters couldn’t have gotten here so fast otherwise.”

“I’m glad to know Earth pilots are so efficient.”

“Just hope they don’t pop open the roof on this thing, or we’re toast.”

We huddled down there for several minutes while the air raid went on. It seemed like a long time, but soon the screaming fighters were fading back to the west.

“It’s now or never,” I told her, and we scrambled into the copter.

That’s when we got our first serious push-back from the dog-boys in charge of this place. One of them thought he was a pilot, and that this was his vehicle. He snarled at me, and even lifted his lips at Abigail.

“Listen,” she told the dog, “we need to take off pronto. I’ll fly, just go back to your bunk.”

The dog-man shook his head and sat there, snarling.

“Bad dog!” I told him. “Shoo! Git!”

Abigail pushed me back. “Okay, okay,” she said soothingly. “This is your copter. You’re the pilot. Just fly it, and take us back to the lab island. Let’s go.”

We climbed in, and the pilot looked at us wonderingly, but he did as he’d been ordered. He revved the engine, and the rotors began to spin.

Automatically, the doors overhead slid back, and we glided up into the sky.

“If one of those fighters is still around, he’ll shoot us down for sure,” Abigail complained.

“True, but I don’t see any of them. They’ve gone back to Dominus.”

Abigail swung her head in my direction suddenly. She wasn’t a dumb girl, whereas I’m mentally challenged on the best of days.

“Dominus? Isn’t that your legion’s transport? How did you know which ship it was up there? You said there was a flock of them coming.”

“Uh… just a guess, really. But Dominus is one of the newest models. It looks like that big thing, and it’s faster than most transports. It only makes sense that if one of them survived, it would be my ship.”

She seemed to buy this, and she went back to looking out to sea.

We rose up over the island, and the scene below was one of destruction and carnage. The three big warehouses were all shattered and smoking. Craters marked the spot where every one of the seven missile batteries had been. The AA gun batteries were knocked out as well.

“The boys really did a number on this place,” I said with a hint of pride.

“They sure did. Will they drop next?”

I pointed up at the sky. Overhead, white contrails marked objects falling from above. There were hundreds of them.

“Looks like they dropped already. That’s a full cohort, if I had to make a guess.”

The radio squawked right then, and the dog-pilot cocked his ears. He listened, then swung the ship around toward the island again.

“Hey! Don’t turn around, rover!” I told him, but he ignored me. I turned toward Abigail. “Can you fly a copter?”

“No.”

I shrugged. “Well, it’s time to learn how.”

Then I struck the pilot from behind. It took seven hammer-blows to the skull to put him out, and he wasn’t even wearing a helmet. I was impressed.

By that time, the airship was spinning and losing altitude. I pushed the body out the open canopy and made room for Abigail to take his seat.

She fought the controls, but the best she could do was land us on the rocky beach—and when I say land, I mean crash.

When we climbed out of the wreckage, I looked up and gaped at the sky.

“Wow! A Legion Varus drop is a thing to behold, isn’t it?”

The fighters had pulled out and left our island a smoking ruin. But the fun wasn’t over with yet. The troops were coming down now, scads of them. Their pods were firing retros at the last possible moment to break their hellish descent.

Right nearby, not fifty meters down the beach, a pair of pods came to rest. The explosive bolts blew with loud popping noises, and two light troopers sprang out, guns up and ready.

Abigail turned to run. “Let’s get out of here, McGill!”

I reached out a long, long leg and hooked her ankle with mine. She did a facer on the sand, and I landed on top of her. Pressing my mouth to into her hair and her ear, I said one thing.

“Sorry.”

This was a lie, of course, but it was a heartfelt lie. I really wanted it to be true, see, and so I guesstimated that the Good Lord would give me a pass on it when I someday died my final death.

“You fucker, James!”

“Get a grip, girl. We’re on a burning island. Running away will only get us shot in the back.”

“Okay, okay. Let me up.”

Reluctantly, I did as she asked. I eased my weight off her, and she rolled onto her side.

She gave me a funny look. “What do you think we should do now?”

“Play dead until they’re sure all resistance is broken, then surrender.”

She ran her quick eyes over the scene. Legion Varus troops were crawling over the island. There were brief fire-fights here and there. For the most part, the dog-gorilla-boys took the worst of it. They were still shell-shocked from the air strikes, and nowhere near as well-trained anyway.

“We’ve lost this base,” she said. “Did you arrange this somehow?”

“How could I? I’ve been watching dogs piss on my bars for a week.”

Her eyes got all squinty. “I wouldn’t put anything past you at this point. It seems like too much of a coincidence that your transport showed up a week after you did, and they took us out like they knew exactly what they were doing.”

I shrugged. “It hardly matters now. Let’s just lie low.”

She glared at me, full of suspicion.

“Say,” I said, smiling. “How about after this is all over with—”

Abigail shook her head. “Don’t even try asking for a date in my prison cell. That’s not how things are going to happen—not this time. I’ve got to move on, James. It was nice seeing you again.”

Then, she showed me what she had in her hand. It was a plasma grenade, and it was pulsing brightly.

Scrambling away, I ran over the beach on all fours like a crab. There wasn’t time to get up and run properly—in fact, there wasn’t any time at all.

The explosion caught me right in the tail-feathers. I was kicked and rolled, and my ass burned like hell. A thousand tiny grains of sand had sprung up and shot as many holes in my posterior.

Groaning, bleeding, and gasping for breath, I rolled onto my back. I could hear myself wheezing and giving long slow moans. I was breathing my last.

A trooper showed up less than a minute later. He approached me rifle-first and poked me in the ribs with the muzzle.

“Who are you?” the kid demanded. He looked like a fresh recruit, yanked off the streets of Brooklyn or Miami, scared and dangerous to anyone who wasn’t wearing the same uniform he was.

“Centurion McGill, third cohort, third unit,” I managed to wheeze out.

“Centurion?” Confused, the kid looked around. He signaled a veteran, who trotted over and eyed me critically.

“What’s this?”

“A human prisoner, sir,” the recruit said.

“We don’t take traitors as prisoners, son. Shoot him!”

“But sir…”

“Shoot him now, that’s an order! I won’t have any softies in my squad.”

The kid raised his snap-rifle to his shoulder and spoke to me. “Sorry, dude. I hope you really aren’t a Varus centurion.”

The snap-rifle ripped out a series of pellets, and I surely expected to be struck stone dead. But the rounds missed. Instead of tearing up my fool skull, they kicked sand up into my ear. I put my bleeding fingers over the side of my head, which was stinging in a new spot now.

“What’s this crap about him being a centurion?” the veteran demanded. He’d shoved the kid’s rifle aside at the last moment.

“That’s what he said, Vet. He said he was from the 3rd.”

The veteran came close now, and he peered at me. His face was a mask of suspicion, and never did he allow the muzzle of his rifle to leave the vicinity of my skull.

“Whoa! I know this crazy bastard! James McGill, right?”

“That’s me,” I croaked out.

“Well, what a surprise! Well met, sir.” Then the veteran turned toward the recruit, and his expression transformed into stern rage. “Why didn’t you tell me he was a legionnaire, fool?”

“I tried to, Vet. I—”

“Shut up. Go check on those dead monkey-men with the snouts over there.” He gave the kid a boot in the ass and sent him on his way.

Then he knelt beside me and looked me over critically. “You’re in a bad way, Centurion.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“What can I do for you? My suggestion, if you don’t mind me making one, is to take a bolt right now. There’s no way the bio people will do anything less when they get around to you.”

I nodded, and he lifted his weapon.

“Wait,” I said, stretching out my wrist toward his. “Here, touch my tapper.”

He frowned, as such a formality shouldn’t be necessary. If I’d landed with the drop-pods, I wouldn’t need to have my death recorded separately. It should all have been automatic.

“Uh…” he said as our tappers kissed and my vital data was passed over, “just how did you get out here, sir? I mean… this is weird. You’re out of uniform and everything… I don’t get it.”

I struggled up onto one elbow. “Let me explain it to you.”

Then I reached out a long arm and pushed his finger down on the firing stud. The gun jumped in his hands, releasing a spray of bolts.

I flopped back on the beach, just as dead as Abigail and every dog-boy on the island.

-38-

It felt like my revival took a long time to come, but that was purely subjective. Dying was a lot like sleeping after a really bad day. When you woke up, it often seemed like you’d been tossing and turning for hours.

As it was, I woke up tired instead of refreshed. My mind was churning long before my bare, slimy feet hit the cold deck.

“You should stay down a minute, Centurion,” a business-like bio told me. “Your APGAR score was only an eight—and that’s because I rounded up.”

“Using the recycled stuff today, huh?” I asked.

“That’s right. Nothing toxic, but not the best. If you would just give it—”

But I was already up and moving. I was all done with snoozing on a cold plank. Staggering toward the showers to spray off, I got that done as fast as possible then pulled on a uniform. Afterward, I felt halfway respectable. It would have to do for now.

By the time my senses operated fully, I’d figured out I was aboard Dominus, and that we were parked in orbit in what was still considered a hot warzone. This surprised me somewhat, as I’d figured it was all over after we’d knocked out Claver’s little depot. That should have put an end to the rebellion he was supplying—right?

I hit my unit’s module first but found it empty. My own unit had moved on. I figured they’d probably made Leeson the acting CO. That was worth a shudder, right there. The man wasn’t bad at his job, but he lacked the imagination and determination it took to run a unit in this legion, in my humble opinion.

“McGill?”

My tapper was talking to me. I stopped marching around the passages, and I stared down at it. The caller had to be one of my direct superiors, or they wouldn’t have had the super-user permissions it took to break into someone else’s tapper at will.

“Uh… Primus Graves?”

“What’s wrong? Are you drunk or something?”

“No sir. There hasn’t been time for that yet.”

His face peered up at me, and he looked a little disgusted with what he saw. “You seem sickly.”

This set off alarm bells in my thick skull. If there was one thing you didn’t want to admit to around Graves, it was any form of illness or disability.

“No sir!” I said. “The bio told me they were using some recycled stuff in the revival chamber, but I feel right as rain.”

“All right, all right. Save it. Get to the briefing room on Gold Deck. I’ll give you ninety seconds to get here. Graves out.”

Cursing, I accelerated into a shambling run. I needed some food, or better yet some booze. Unfortunately, I had the sneaking suspicion I wasn’t going to see either one for hours. I was probably going to have to listen to some self-important tool giving us the day’s play-by-play after-action analysis. Being an officer wasn’t always the better deal in the legions.

When I reached my destination, I found a seat in the back and almost plopped my butt into it—but then I noticed a snack buffet just left of the main door.

Some primus with the bony hands of an undertaker was standing up there, droning on and on. He had a big display of the planet behind him, with the island battle playing out in real time. As I recently died in the middle of the depicted action, I couldn’t care less.

My eyes drifted to the snacks over and over. Without asking, I got up and walked over there. As fast as I could, I filled up a tiny plate with whatever I could balance on one over-sized palm. There were little cheeses, some baked crackers, and some multilayered bean-dip. I ignored the fruit and veggie tray, as that wasn’t going to fill the void in my gut. I took a double-helping of the bean-dip instead. Once I had a plateful, I slipped back to my chair and dug in.

The whole mess was gone inside of two minutes. I heaved a sigh of relief. The food was just what I needed, and it was hitting me right—but that’s when I heard my name mentioned at the front of the room.

“McGill?” Graves called out. “Centurion, come up here and finish the briefing.”

I froze. At this point, I’d been in the room for several long minutes, but I hadn’t heard a word that had been spoken.

“Uh… yessir.”

Setting down my plate and rubbing the crumbs from my hands, I walked up to the front of the room with a confident air.

The undertaker-looking primus offered me his pointer, so I took it and began to draw on the big display. After pausing it, I scrolled around to look for the area where I’d died. “That’s it, that beach. You see that crashed aircraft? That’s the weirdest kind of copter I’ve ever been on. I managed to hotwire it and take off, but not before our fighters got to the island. Unfortunately, I was taken out and died in the waves, right about… here.”

I made a red circle on the frozen image, and turned around to grin at the audience.

Everyone in sight looked confused, even baffled. Everyone but Graves, that was. He looked pissed.

“That’s not very helpful, McGill. We want to know what you learned on that island. Where are the other bases the enemy has placed in strategic locations?”

“Uh… how’s that again? Who said they had other bases?”

Graves eyed me unhappily. A few of the audience members snickered. “Maybe you came in too late for that part of the briefing. Primus Gilbert, here, has discovered with forensic analysis that this base was linked to others. Several gateway posts were setup, but they were destroyed during the attack.”

“That’s a crying shame, sir! We’ll probably never be able to puzzle out where they linked to.”

“Are you telling me, McGill, that you spent the better part of the week living at this encampment, and you have no idea where the other rebel facilities are?”

“Well sir, I actually spent most of that time in a cell, see. I did have a barred window and a nice view of the beach, but those the monkey-dog guys, well… they kind of used it as a latrine.”

People were laughing, but not Graves. “Skip all that. Your body was found in the immediate vicinity of Abigail Claver, a wanted criminal. Are you claiming that you weren’t romantically involved with her?”

“Uh… are we talking, like, recently?”

Another wave of amusement swept the room. I flashed Manfred and some of my other friends a grin.

“Yes, recently.”

“No sir. I was a prisoner. The only reason I got out of my cell was because Dominus was sighted. Abigail wanted to talk to me about the incoming attack. It came in so fast, however, there wasn’t much time to do more than die.”

A few of the crewmen applauded at that. I nodded to them, giving them their due. The navy boys were sissies, but they had a few good pilots among them.

Graves still seemed unhappy. There was just no pleasing some people. “So… are you spying for them, or for us?”

“I’m purely in the employ of Earth, sir. Don’t forget I found this rat’s nest. I brought Legion Varus right to it.”

“All right, all right. Any idea of who else is involved, and what their aims might be?”

I squinted in thought. “Abigail did say something about hitting Earth directly. This is all connected to the docks at Central City. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those gateways led there.”

“Every super-cargo ship back home has been impounded, searched, and turned away from the port since we left. It has to be something other than that.”

“Well, they could already have delivered the posts and setup the gateway. But I’m not sure what we’re worried about. These monkey-dogs aren’t that bad, or that bright.”

“No, they’re not. But that’s not who we’re going up against. Those are only some minor players, slaves to the Claver Clan. Don’t you remember these warehouses? In your previous visit, they were full of weapons and gear.”

“They surely were.”

Graves waved impatiently to the undertaker guy, Primus Gilbert. He stepped up and plucked the briefing controller out of my fingers. I let him do it without a fuss.

He sped through the files, clicking backward in some app. At last, he brought up an image from my last visit. The warehouses were chock-full of gear of all kinds.

“That was the original intel,” Gilbert said. “But that’s old news. Here’s the state of the storage units now.”

He flicked to the end of the files and played a vid showing the interior of the same warehouses. This time, they were mostly empty.

Many sets of eyes moved to me. I could feel them.

“Uh… looks like they moved the stuff. I never was allowed in there—I was in this cell in the ground, see—”

“Yes, yes. The dogs pissed in your face. I got all that, McGill. Thanks for the useless report.”

He waved for me to return to my seat, and I did so with troubled thoughts.

Where had all that gear gone? They could have outfitted a small army with all that stuff. It occurred to me that maybe, by going out there and visiting Abigail twice, I’d managed to spook the Clavers. Just maybe, they’d taken all their stuff and stashed it someplace else.

“Damn…” I said out loud. “That girl is six kinds of tricky, just like all her brothers.”

-39-

The general consensus among the brass was that somehow, some-way, this was all my fault.

“McGill,” Tribune Turov told me sternly during the after-meeting. “This sort of thing simply has to stop.”

She was in fine fettle. After not attending the open briefing, she showed up to the second one, all full of piss-and-vinegar. To me, the situation seemed plain unfair. Not only was I being blamed for the fact Legion Varus had done a bang-up attack on a pretty much empty base, but then there was the fact that we were in Skay territory with our dicks out—for no apparent reason.

“Are you entirely sure that vast stash of gear was here, in these very warehouses?” Graves asked me.

I made an exasperated sound. “Sirs, just look at the video I brought back from the first trip. I’m sorry if that didn’t convince you—it certainly did convince me.”

Just for laughs, Graves replayed my initial visit’s recordings. He even ran it up to where I got shot in the face by Abigail.

“We should have left you permed,” Galina said angrily.

I threw up my hands, and everyone at the table flinched, except for Graves. “All right, I’m out then. If you don’t want me to breathe, you don’t need me at some all-day long meeting, do you?”

Managing to stand up and stage an angry walk-out, I got as far as touching the door before Galina growled at me. “Get back here and sit down, James. We’re not finished yet.”

With slumping shoulders, I flopped into my chair again.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” she said. “Drusus is due in an hour, and we’ve got nothing to show him but an empty island full of craters.”

That’s what this was really all about. Winslade, Graves, Turov—they didn’t care about me at all. They just wanted to come up with some pretty bullshit to tell Drusus. Unfortunately, he was a very hard man to fool, and we all knew it.

For my own part, I wasn’t overly interested in the gloomy mood of the upper officers. I wasn’t going to be chewed out or demoted—at least, no more than normal.

“Look—how about this,” I said, slamming a big hand on the conference table to stop the videos, which had looped around to the beginning to start playing again. “How about we just all agree to get publicly flogged? The brass will usually go for that. It’s an easy way out.”

“Publicly flogged?” Winslade asked incredulously. “That’s for recruits, McGill.”

“Nonsense, I get flogged regularly.”

Winslade rolled his eyes at me and crossed his arms. “It unbecoming for an officer. Even you should know that.”

“You’re chicken.”

“Stop it, you two,” Galina said. “This isn’t funny, McGill. We’ve gone out on a limb way out here in Province 926, and we’d better find those damned weapons.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, the way I see it, the gear was stashed here for an army. A force that’s somewhere else, see? That army must have come and taken the gear. Or it was sent to them with the gateways, or something…”

“Obviously, McGill,” Winslade said in his usual, snooty tone. “All you’re saying is the gear has been deployed somewhere. Fine. What difference does that make?”

Graves looked thoughtful. “McGill has a point. We’ve been scanning this planet for a hidden cache of weapons and gear. Instead, maybe we should be looking for a large enemy encampment.”

“How is this vague nuance useful in any possible way?” Winslade demanded. “We haven’t seen any gear, or any troops—nothing. We’ve been scanning the islands, the ocean and even a few undersea caves. We haven’t found anything.”

“Right,” Graves agreed. “The conclusion is therefore inescapable.”

“What conclusion?”

“The enemy is no longer here. We’re wasting our time, and we need to pull up stakes and retreat to Earth before the Skay figure out we spoofed their security.”

That sentence perked me up. I realized, all of a sudden, that I’d forgotten to tell the assembled officers something very, very important.

“Uh… sirs?”

Galina looked at me tiredly. “What is it now, McGill? Don’t tell me that you’re hungry again. We just had lunch brought in.”

I opened my big mouth, sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I wasn’t good at delivering bad news. It was a weakness of mine. My mind was racing, therefore, to find a way to do it without taking the blame—or possibly to lie about it entirely.

Sure, they had to find out the truth. But maybe they could do it in a way that didn’t involve my being castrated, or permed, or something heinous like that.

Before I could come up with anything, the door opened. Galina turned toward it, raising her upper lip into a snarl. I pitied whatever lost cabin-boy had dared to enter.

“I left strict orders to—oh! Praetor Drusus?”

She scrambled to her feet, and the rest of us did the same. We stood at attention until he stepped inside, closed the door, and told us to sit down at ease.

Drusus himself didn’t sit down. Instead, his eyes swept the group. He didn’t look very happy. Maybe he already knew some of the details of our latest fiasco.

“Turov, make your report,” he ordered.

“Of course. You’re early, sir, and we were just discussing how we were going to brief you on our highly successful raid of Green World.”

He put his hands on his hips and gave us all the evil eye. “How about you just tell me the plain truth? You brought a trillion credits worth of shipping and manpower out here to Green World, and you found nothing.”

“That’s not exactly true, Praetor. We found the base we were looking for. We destroyed it, but not without taking some unique prisoners first.”

“Unique, eh? Yes, I saw your kennel full of dog-men. They don’t even speak—nothing that we can interpret, anyway. All the Clavers and other aliens were dead or absent by the time our troops landed and took the island.”

His baleful eyes slid to me again. Unlike the others, I wasn’t hunkered down and wincing. I was sprawled out in my chair. I felt an urge to yawn, but I suppressed it with difficulty.

“McGill? What were you about to tell the group before I arrived?”

I blinked a few times, but then I realized that Drusus must have been listening in on us somehow. The others looked stunned, too.

My lips smiled of their own accord. Of course Drusus could listen in. these other pukes could do it to low-ranked people. They did it all the time—especially Galina. She was the worst offender.

But now, the shoe was on the other foot. There were no secrets to be kept from a man with Drusus’ high rank.

“Well sir, that’s not a happy tale.”

“Out with it, McGill.”

“Well, maybe—and I do mean maybe, sir. That’s what I want to point out. Everything swirling in my head is pure conjecture, see. I just thought it might be worth mentioning to an appropriately affected group like this one.”

Drusus crossed his arms and so did Graves. They both knew that when I put a ton of qualifiers on something, it meant there was a horrible chunk of news coming their way. It was like when you get a bad piece of steak at a restaurant, and they slather on the sauce like there’s no tomorrow.

“Out with it, McGill. What could be worse than having to retreat from this campaign with nothing to show for it?”

“Uh… maybe… well, what if we didn’t have a way to retreat? Like… at all.”

They all stared at me for about a second and a half.

“What did you do?” Galina demanded loudly.

Drusus waved her back into her chair. He approached me, stalking me like a lion sneaking up on a gazelle.

“McGill… what are you trying to say?”

“Well sir, there’s a problem. See, the Clavers… they know that Dominus snuck through the border. They know we spoofed the security.”

“How in the hell did they find out about that?” Drusus demanded. His voice was rising, and that wasn’t a good sound for him. He rarely shouted, and by the sound of it, I thought maybe I knew why now. He tended to get kind of high-pitched.

“I don’t rightly know,” I lied. “They might have figured it out themselves. I mean, maybe the approach of such a large ship could have been reported to them from the border. They knew what stars we would pass by while coming here from Earth—it’s not rocket science.”

“No…” Drusus said, pacing his way around the table. “It’s not rocket science, it’s basic astronavigation…”

He stopped pacing, and turned on me. “What other theories do you have?”

“About how they found out? Oh… well, maybe someone told them.”

“Like who?”

I shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. All I know is that Abigail mentioned it to me. She said they would warn the Skay monitors. Those little Skay ships, you know?”

“Yes, yes, I know. Go on.”

“Well sir, that’s about it. I was stuck in my cell getting pissed on by ornery dogs most of the time.”

“You didn’t strike up a relationship with Abigail?” he asked.

They all looked at me suspiciously. I had a certain well-deserved reputation with the ladies. Galina in particular appeared interested in my answer.

I lifted my hand to my heart and placed my other hand on an imaginary bible before me. “No, sir! I swear, as God is my witness, I got no sugar from that ice-cold woman. She barely talked to me, not until Dominus appeared in the sky and scared her shitless. Then, she dragged me out of my cell and tried to leave the island with me.”

“So… they knew we were coming, but they didn’t know when. That means they didn’t get the report from the border. The Skay told them nothing.”

“Uh…” I said, seeing the logic of his thinking. That made me a little nervous. I’d thrown out two lies, and they’d already blown up the first one. To a man like me, being down to one thin lie was dangerous territory.

Drusus kept pacing and thinking. He was scary-smart sometimes.

“No,” he said at last. “I think your other theory must be correct. They were warned, and they had the critical detail that we were spoofing their security. I can only think of one man who knows these crucial details, and who is of highly questionable character.”

At this point, I was starting to sweat. A lesser man might have broken down and confessed. He might have cried to his mommy, begged for forgiveness, and made up some other bullshit about being tortured or something.

But that wasn’t my way. Instead, I contrived to look as retarded as possible. My face went slack, my eyes were big, round and clueless. It was my last line of defense.

That seemed to work. Everyone was watching Drusus—but a few were eyeing Winslade.

Winslade seemed to notice this, so he stood up and pointed a finger at Drusus. “I’ve got it. I know exactly who you’re thinking of, Praetor!”

“Who’s that, Winslade?” Galina asked.

“One ex-tribune known as Maurice Armel. It all fits. He knew we’d spoofed the border guards, because he gave us the codes. Maybe this entire fiasco has been a monstrous ruse.”

“What are you talking about?” Drusus asked.

“Think about it. McGill is fooled into thinking Armel is his friend. He just wants to come back to Earth. We all fall for it—don’t say you didn’t. Then, he gives us the magic key to come here like fools. McGill scouts and sees a pile of stolen gear, but he sees no troops to speak of.”

Drusus shook a finger at Winslade and nodded. His face broke, as if he’d seen the light at last. “Of course. We’re all fools. We’ve been tricked into coming out here—this is no accident. It was a setup, right from the start.”

I looked from one of them to the next with growing satisfaction. Of course, I kept my face slack and stupid, but inside I was all grins. They were off and running in the wrong direction.

“We have to question him,” Winslade said. “I’ll do it personally, sir—and don’t worry. I won’t go easy on him. I’m no bleeding heart.”

“I should say not,” Galina said with her lips twisted in disgust.

“All right,” Drusus answered after a moment’s thought. “Normally, I wouldn’t condone such a thing, but I’m not sure how big this trap might be.”

“Uh…” I said, unable to keep my big mouth shut any longer, “I think we do know the scope of it, sir. They tricked us into coming out here in order to trap Earth’s finest. If Dominus is unable to go home, if we’re destroyed, it would make a lot of alien folks happy.”

“That’s true McGill, but you’re thinking too small. What if this is a setup to create a border skirmish? An excuse for the Skay to invade Province 921—to invade Earth?”

My fool mouth hung open after hearing that idea, and it wasn’t even an act.

-40-

I quickly volunteered to accompany Winslade while he arrested Armel. This was partly to get out of the meeting early, but also to see that things didn’t get too out of hand. After all, there was a pretty good chance Armel was innocent—to my mind, it was almost a certainty.

Winslade took my offer the wrong way. “Itching for a little pay-back, eh McGill? Well, I for one don’t blame you. Fair warning: it’s likely to get ugly before I’m through with this traitorous French fop.”

“Heh…”

I followed him down long passages. We found Armel with our tappers, and they led us right to him.

He was on Lavender Deck, a zone normally restricted to passengers and crew. As he wasn’t technically a member of Earth’s armed forces, they didn’t want him lurking around the modules.

Down here on Lavender, things were pretty nice. They had a public area with sports rings for null-gravity exercise, and three bars. We checked these first.

He was holding down a barstool in the second place we barged into. A lady with an odd complexion sat beside him, listening to all his bullshit stories of glory and fortune. She looked like a stray Edge Worlder to me—they were kind of easy to bamboozle.

We walked up and stood to either side of him. Armel noticed us right away. He was a little tipsy, but that was normal for him. His blood-type was always somewhere between beer and a bottle of brandy.

“Gentlemen! Are you here to congratulate your benefactor? Perhaps a commendation is in order, is it not?”

“And how, pray tell, have you come to such a conclusion?”

“Because, my good Winslade, I did everything I promised. I led this expedition with unerring speed and navigation. We penetrated the Skay defenses with ease, and we destroyed the enemy with great expediency.”

“We did nothing of the kind. In fact, we were duped and led into a dangerous political trap.”

Armel’s eyes flashed, but he also looked concerned. The girl he’d been chatting up sensed the shift in mood, and she exited the scene right-quick. That was the Shadowlander way. They either fought to the death or vanished on you. Apparently, Armel wasn’t yet worthy of any kind of struggle on her part.

“Has something gone wrong?” he asked.

“McGill, arrest this vagrant traitor.”

With a sigh, I snapped a gravity cuff on Armel’s wrist. He didn’t resist. Instead, he looked me in the eye. “Does your word mean so little, McGill?”

Winslade interposed his narrow skull between the two of us. “McGill’s promises were based on you acting in good faith. Come along. McGill, bring the prisoner. We’re going down to the brig.”

Armel managed to swig a last gulp of his drink, then came along with us. He wasn’t sputtering and demanding that we explain our actions. He was too clever for that. Instead, he was eyeing us both intently.

He asked a few probing questions, but Winslade waited until we had him down at the brig before he offered any answers.

“A private room, please,” he told the jailors.

“Ah, Sub-Tribune Winslade. It’s been a while, sir. Right this way.”

We were led to a cell which was unlocked. We stepped through, and the rattling door was slammed behind us.

“Hmm…” Armel said, eyeing the shiny stainless steel chair in the middle of the chamber. “This doesn’t look like the penthouse I was expecting.”

“Take a seat, please,” Winslade told him.

Armel made a break for it. He cuffed Winslade—but the weasel dodged it. Then, he tried to slip past me. I shot out a long leg with a hook-like ankle at the end of it. Armel went sprawling.

We tossed him into the chair, and Winslade hummed to himself while he worked the various clamps and buckles. “There we are. I trust you’re comfortable.”

“Smug barbarian. At least tell me why you’re doing this? Or is it true that Varus people are all cackling demons at heart.”

“Now, now, don’t get yourself worked up. We’re here to ask a few questions, that’s all. At the beginning of each question, there will be an incentive applied. When you’re all out of viable options for this process, things will get nasty.”

“Incentives? What are you talking about?” Armel watched in alarm as Winslade produced a black velvet bag. The bag rolled open to reveal a variety of tools. There were scissors, scalpels, long-handled wire cutters and even a small bone-saw.

“McGill!” Armel said, and he sounded plaintive indeed. “Tell him I played you fairly, man!”

“Winslade,” I said. “As far as I know, Armel is innocent of all accusations. There’s no proof he had anything to do with trapping Dominus in enemy territory.”

“No proof? Come now, McGill. You made the argument yourself. Don’t go soft on me.”

“Ah!” Armel boomed. “I get it. I’m to be blamed for foolishness on the part of Earth’s leadership? Is that it?”

“The enemy knew we were coming, Armel,” Winslade said. “We’ve established that. They had enough time to pack up and move on. We caught nothing other than a few of their pathetic mutants.”

“The dog-people? The rest were gone?”

“That’s right. Now, to the first incentive.”

There was a sudden, snipping sound. Armel howled and squirmed.

“There you go. Nothing much, just a little sting to sharpen the mind.”

“My toe is off, man! You ghoul!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll print out a new Armel if everything goes as planned. For now, however, here is the promised question: when did you contact the enemy and tell them Dominus was about to run the Skay border?”

“What? I never did that. You must believe me, Sub-Tribune!”

Winslade gave a little sigh and made a tsking sound. The snips clacked again, and I winced. Armel screeched and struggled in his bounds. One of his pinky fingers was missing.

“Take notes, McGill,” Winslade told me. “Did you see that? I switched it up. I’m not into working the same boring toes one after another. All too soon, the subject will become accustomed to the discomfort. If they never know where you’re going to strike next, however, the mind stays sharp.”

“That’s all very well and good, sir—”

“Listen up and you might learn something. A man like this has twenty-nine ‘edits’ you can easily make by removing appendages and protrusions.”

“Uh… twenty-nine, sir?”

“That’s right, including the ears, nose and nipples.”

“Oh…”

Armel didn’t look happy with our little discussion. “You monsters! You haven’t even asked me a second question yet.”

“You’re correct,” Winslade told him. “But we don’t really have that many questions. Far fewer than we have parts to remove. Still, I’ll reward your powers of observation with a second chance at the last one.”

“I didn’t contact anyone. How could I? Check your deep-link logs, fool. Run scans on my tapper. I’ve been wandering this Lavender Deck for days in boredom.”

“Offering yourself up to any female who might listen, I’m sure. But I have to give you credit, that’s almost an answer. You’re saying you told them before we boarded Dominus. Hmm…”

Armel caught my eye again. “McGill. Tell him. Do what is right.”

Winslade’s eyes slid from his red-smeared tools toward me.

“Tell me what?” he asked.

Putting on a show of squirming a bit, I sidestepped so that I was standing over Armel. “Well sir, there’s a bit more to the story of my involvement with this man than I might have explained clearly.”

“How’s that?” Winslade crossed his skinny arms and gazed up at me with suspicion.

That’s when Armel drew my pistol from my holster and shot Winslade. The smaller man went down in a smoking heap.

Armel directed the gun at me next. Blood dribbled from his injured hand, but his aim was steady enough.

“Whoa!” I said, putting up my palms and pretending to be surprised. “How did you get my weapon out of my holster?”

“You pressed it against my hand.”

“Did I really? That was a very stupid mistake.”

Armel’s eyes rolled as he thought about his predicament. “I didn’t actually expect it to fire. Don’t these things have biometric identifiers on them?”

“Uh… I must have forgotten to turn that on.”

Armel looked at me thoughtfully. “You set this up? I thank you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Maurice.”

“Of course not. But what am I to do now, McGill? Shoot my way out of this detention center?”

“I wouldn’t recommend that. There must be thirty guards on the other side of that door.”

Armel nodded. He had the face of a hunted animal. “All right, look, I’m leaving the ship now. I hadn’t planned on doing so yet, but this changes everything.”

“Uh… how’s that?”

“Winslade figured it out, fool. This entire thing was a trap. A way to start a border skirmish with the Skay.”

My heart sank. “You don’t say? That’s… uh… kind of a surprise.”

Armel’s mustache twitched on his face. “You thought you were saving an innocent man from torment, didn’t you? That is most kind, James. I won’t shoot you—unless you want me to.”

“Uh… no thanks.”

“Very well. You’ll find my engrams have been corrupted in the ship’s data core. They can revive me if they want to, but the Armel they produce will be a drooling idiot.”

“So… all this really was an elaborate trick?”

“Yes, but it was only partly successful. We’d hoped for more than one ship to come out here and attack. That would have been far superior.”

“There’s no attack coming on Earth, then? No rebellion? No army of angry misfits coming to Earth for vengeance?”

He laughed. “All of that is coming and more. You didn’t catch them today, but rebels still exist. You see, as I explained, the rebels can’t beat Earth fairly—but if your fleets are involved in a border war… the math tips, you see.”

Right then, the cell door creaked open. A hog-like crewman poked his head inside. “Say, are you guys going to take all day—holy shit!”

Armel shot him. He was a pretty good shot with my pistol, I have to say that.

Then, while I was watching the hog die on the deck, Armel shot me too, in the back of the head.

-41-

I was revived an hour or two later. Winslade was standing there waiting, looking as angry as a plucked owl.

“McGill?” he asked. “What the hell happened?”

“Aren’t there any recordings of what went on in that cell?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. That would defeat the point of a ‘private’ room, which is what I requested.”

“Oh, I get it. Well sir, I think old Armel is one tricky bastard. He got hold of your pistol, see—”

“It was your weapon they found in his hand.”

“Really? My mistake. Anyway, he shot you, then bragged a bit about how he was going to burn the Earth down to bedrock, then he shot me as well.”

Winslade licked his lips. His hair was kind of drippy, indicating he hadn’t been out of the oven for long himself. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? You aided and abetted his escape, Centurion.”

“He got away?”

“No, of course not. He was killed in that chair. But I just checked the datacore. They can’t revive Armel again. Therefore, he has effectively escaped us.”

“Really? Damnation. That man is as slippery as an eel in an oil-slick.”

Winslade shook his head in disgust. A few greasy drops sprinkled the place. “Useless. You’re absolutely useless.”

He turned away and marched out of the chamber.

“Sir?” I called after him. “Where are you headed next?”

“Back to Drusus. That infernal meeting is still in progress.”

“Seriously?”

I followed him out of the revival chamber, hopping on one foot while I was struggling to dress myself. By the time we reached the meeting room, we both looked half-way presentable.

After a few polite knocks, Drusus himself opened the door. He waved us inside.

“Back so soon? Excellent.”

“Uh… why excellent, sir?” I asked.

Drusus frowned. “Because you wouldn’t dare come back here without having critical information gained from the prisoner—right?”

Winslade and I glanced at one another. Deciding that most of this was my fault, I decided to fess up and talk first. I explained how Armel pretty much admitted that he’d set things up, and then he’d gotten ahold of a weapon and shot us both.

Drusus’ hands were on his hips. “Who’s weapon?”

“That would be mine, sir.”

He shook his head at me and returned to the conference table. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. We have to assume the Skay border guards are converging on our position. According to our best estimates, they’re only about half as fast as Dominus herself.”

I brightened. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“It would be,” Drusus admitted, “if we were trying to run—but we aren’t. We’ve got maybe ten days here at Green World before we have to take flight. We’re going to spend that time as wisely as possible.”

“How can we spend time wisely with no target?” Winslade asked.

“Something has come up,” Drusus said. “We’ve got a lead. It’s all centered on McGill’s travel data. McGill? Remember that island you found when you first teleported out here?”

“You mean the one with the Wur lab on it? Where Natasha died?”

“Who? Oh yes, I guess that’s right. Anyway, we’ve been checking everything you gave us. Didn’t you find it odd that Abigail arrived so quickly to capture you on that distant island? Didn’t you say that you flew for hours afterward to get back to the other island?”

“Uh…” I said, giving myself a scratch. “I’m not really sure about those details, as I was knocked out for a goodly part of the time.”

“I see. Well, it doesn’t matter. We found the Wur laboratory island, scanned it, and discovered heavy equipment operating in the tunnels underneath.”

Winslade stepped back into the conversation. “What kind of heavy equipment?”

“Power generators, mostly. They have to be powering something, and I’m sending a full cohort down there to find out what it is. McGill, Graves is loading your unit along with the others onto a lifter right now. Would you like to accompany him?”

I smiled. “I damn-well insist on it, sir. I don’t want Leeson running my unit into the ground without me.”

“Very well. Move out, soldier.”

I turned on my heel and marched out of the place. By the time I was in the open passages, I was trotting, and when I got down to Red Deck where the lifters were launched from, I heard engines rumbling. I stepped it up, moving at a dead run.

As it turned out, I barely made it aboard in time. The big ramp was pulled in and the doors shut, almost taking my heels off.

I didn’t have time to find my unit before the ship began slewing and accelerating at an angle. I found myself hanging onto the metal rings they put on the back of every seat just to keep from dashing my brains out on the roof of the ship.

“Is that McGill?” a familiar voice spoke up. “By damn, it is him. Sit down and stop showing off, Centurion.”

It was the British accent of one Centurion Manfred. Traveling hand over hand along the seats, I stomped on a lot of toes and crushed a few fingers before I reached him.

Manfred glanced to his left. “Veteran Buxton? Do you mind moving on down the line a bit?”

Buxton looked startled, but then he nodded because he didn’t have any other choice. He left the seat next to Manfred and worked his way laboriously to another empty seat about ten meters down.

“He’s a lucky man,” I said, “to find a seat at all on a full lifter.”

“No luck involved. The AA guns took out a few of my men on that cursed island yesterday. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Nope. Not a damned thing.”

He nodded skeptically. “That’s what I thought. Well, McGill, glad to have you aboard. I daresay the rest of your unit will be happy as well.”

“No one more than Adjunct Leeson. He doesn’t like having to play centurion.”

“Right. A smart man. Do you know where we’re headed?”

I told him about the island with the Wur lab on it, and how it seemed rather small for a full invasion force.

He shrugged. “The brass wants to make sure this time. They didn’t like coming up empty on the last raid.”

We rode the lifter down into the atmosphere after that, and there was little time for chit-chat. Within ten minutes the big doors fell open and daylight streamed in.

Instead of charging out the gate with Manfred, I waited for my own people to stream by. When they did, I stood up suddenly and tapped Leeson on the shoulder.

“Huh? What—oh, it’s you, sir!”

After he got over his initial shock, he was all smiles. “The ball is all yours, Centurion.”

“Okay, listen up, unit. The word from Graves is that we’re to exit the lifter last, but we’ve been given a very special task once our boots are firmly on the rocks.”

A general groan went up from the boys, but I chose to ignore their poor morale.

“We’re going to penetrate that lab complex, the one that’s hidden underground. Some of you might remember that the floor is a trick, there’s a chamber underneath. Our sensors show that the chamber is a lot bigger now, with signs of fresh excavation.”

Shaking their heads in resignation, only one woman had the balls to question our fates. “Sir?” Natasha said. “I remember this place… how did we ever end up back here?”

I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. We never did investigate it thoroughly.”

“Hey Natasha,” Carlos said to her. “Maybe we’ll find your skeleton down there in that slime pit. I’m not sure if the Wur are really into cleaning up their messes, you know?”

“Shut up, Ortiz,” Moller ordered, coming to Natasha’s defense.

Natasha herself looked upset. This was, after all, a spot where she’d been left for dead a long time back during the Home World campaign. She couldn’t have good memories of the place.

At last, all the other units were off the lifter. It turned out we didn’t have a full cohort’s strength. Some of the units had been left behind, as they’d suffered too many casualties. As a result, Graves deployed five units before ours stepped out under the light green sky near the dark green sea, blinking and looking around.

The other units had deployed along the beach area. One was surrounding the lab facility. They had a hundred gun barrels aimed at the relatively dinky structure. It was as if they thought a thousand monsters were going to charge out at them.

“I remember this place well,” Harris complained. “Too well. We lost some good people here when we started doing all those bullshit teleport missions.”

“Take heart, Adjunct,” I told him. “We’re here for real now. No twisting a dial and popping away this time.”

I sent in Barton and her lights, letting them scout. She poked her way into the door, which hung in a dark doorway like a loose tooth.

A dozen soldiers moved inside. I could see their suit-lights flashing everywhere at once. They were looking for the enemy—any enemy—but the found nothing.

Becoming annoyed, I entered after them and ordered them all to hug the walls. They did so readily enough, and I activated the system that opened a big hole in the floor. The floor, in fact, almost disappeared.

One light trooper girl was caught by surprise. She dropped into the darkness with a squeak of dismay.

“She’s all right,” I told the others. “It’s not all that far down. No biggie if you don’t break a leg or anything.”

Soon, we had lines cast down to the bottom. I descended with Barton’s lights, who were as skittish as a herd of cats in a shower stall.

“Come on everyone, get down here. Relay my video to Graves, will you Kivi? Natasha, why don’t I have drones telling me what I’m getting into?”

“I’ve been trying to send them ahead, sir, but they keep dying.”

“Dying? What are you talking about?”

She came near and picked one off the wet stone floor. It was as dead as a doornail.

“See? No power. No juice. I think there’s some kind of field active down here, a light EMP effect that’s killing them.”

“Huh… it’s not dangerous, is it?”

“Not to humans, or our shielded gear. Not that I can tell, anyway.”

“Okay, Harris? Get your heavies down here.”

He’d been listening in on the radio, of course, but staying real quiet. Now that I mentioned him directly, he finally spoke up.

“Don’t you think it would be best if the lights thoroughly scouted the basement first, sir? It could be hard to haul a heavy trooper out of this hole if—”

“Get down here, Harris. That’s an order.”

He muttered bad words under his breath as he lowered himself and his platoon of armored men into the dank chamber with the rest of us. I left Leeson’s troops up topside in reserve.

“Okay, Barton, look into every nook and cranny. Kivi and Natasha, you’ve got the ball. Find something interesting for me.”

They spread out and began scanning every meter of the place. Everyone was tense and the walls were constantly splashed with bright lights. There was no lighting down here, other than what we’d brought with us.

At last, Barton called out. “I’ve found something here, sir. It looks like an exit. This slanted pathway was cut through the rock at a downward slant.”

“Where does it lead?”

I asked. Walking to her position with Natasha in tow, we examined the find. A round set of heavy pressure doors had opened at a touch, and beyond that…

“Holy moly,” I said, looking down into a pool of lapping water. “Is that the bottom of the ocean? Is that what I’m looking at, here?”

We were down pretty far, about a hundred meters at this point, and it looked like a shaft filled with water led slanted down to a second door.

“Two hatches, one at either end of a water-filled tunnel,” Natasha said. “It has to be an airlock that leads to the open sea.”

“What did these Wur freaks do?” Harris demanded. “Just walk in and out of here along the seabed?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Natasha said. She walked into the dark water and let it lap over her boots. “But there’s something strange about this tunnel. It goes down into the water at about a thirty degree angle, but there’s an energy field involved here. Something strong. That’s what interrupted my buzzers.”

Harris had his lips pulled back to expose his gums and his big teeth. His expression was one of alarm and anger mixed together.

“Huh…” I said, not liking this anymore than Harris did. “Okay, I need a volunteer to go down into this here water-tunnel, to see what’s what.”

Everyone around me averted their eyes. Every rock and grain of sand was more interesting than I was right now.

“What about the ghosts?” Harris asked.

“Are you guys shitting me?” a voice asked. I turned around and realized it was Cooper. He was in his stealth suit, and I’d almost forgotten he was sneaking around down here.

“Your offer is accepted, Cooper. Get down there and do some scouting.”

“Sir?” Natasha said as Cooper sloshed out into the bubbling seawater. He was cursing something awful with every step. “Cooper isn’t wearing any armor. The pressure out there—even at a hundred meters—it could kill a man.”

“Then he shouldn’t have smarted off. Proceed, Cooper. And turn your stealth suit off so we can at least find your body afterward.”

He removed his stealth mesh and stood there, looking kind of skinny and unhappy. “You’re always thinking of the little guy, Centurion. Thank you, sir.”

“Anytime. Get moving.”

We all watched as he first walked, then waded into the water. Pretty soon, it was up to his neck—then he was gone.

He could breathe, of course, as he was wearing a spacesuit. Switching to a vid feed, I watched as he kept on going. Oddly enough, he didn’t switch to swimming after the first dozen steps. Once the water went over his head, I’d kind of expected him to start floating—but he didn’t.

“Odd…” Natasha said. She was watching the action as closely as I was. “He’s not experiencing as much buoyancy as he should.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s weird. It has to be the field I detected.”

“Uh-huh. Keep walking Cooper! I didn’t say you should turn around yet.”

Naturally, Cooper had been listening in. He sloshed forward, making kind of slow-motion steps. Soon, he was beyond the shaft, or tunnel, or cave—whatever it was that led down into the deeps. He was out in the open, walking on the bottom of the sea.

He found the second door, and he opened it. That caused a stir, as we expected the seawater to rush in. The whole point of underwater airlocks was to only open one door at a time—but nothing happened.

“The water isn’t surging up here like it should,” Natasha said.

Cooper reported back via radio. “It’s strange out here, Centurion. There are some metal lines under my boots. They look like two rails—like old-fashioned train tracks, you know?”

“I can see them through your tapper feed. Keep going.”

Cooper walked along down the middle of the tracks. “It goes a long, long way ahead. I can see a hundred meters or more into the water. The tracks are straight, and they go down steeply.”

“Keep going.”

“Sir, it’s already going to be work to get back to the—”

“You should have stretched out your legs and eaten a hearty breakfast, Cooper! Keep walking, or I’ll come down there and kick you in the butt.”

Cooper grumbled, but he kept moving. This was, after all, the exact reason why every unit had scouts like him. We needed recon, and he was it.

Naturally, it was a stone-cold fact that ghost specialists tended to die at a higher rate than most, but that just came with the job. No one else got to stand around in stealth suits gawking during battles. Sometimes, a military man just had to take the good with the bad while serving in any combat role.

Things went badly when he reached the two hundred meter mark. The water was pretty clear, and we could still make out the dim outline of his figure in the dark sea.

But something happened. Suddenly, his name went red inside my officers’ helmet, which displayed troop status.

Harris saw it, too. “Shit. He’s gone.”

Leeson walked up and cackled behind me. He’d brought his specialists down to mill around with the rest of us in the underground chamber. “He was as good as dead as soon as you sent him in, Centurion.”

“You want to go down there next?”

“Hell, no!” Leeson said, and he quickly retreated.

I contacted Graves then, and I made my report. I sent along videos and all the data my techs had gathered.

“Very interesting... Where do you think that shaft under the ocean goes to, McGill?”

“Uh… it’s not exactly a shaft, sir. It’s more of a pathway. A trail that leads to the bottom of the ocean.”

“How come no one has ever found it before?”

I thought about the various expeditions we’d sent to this island in the past. We’d never done a detailed survey of the place. “Sir, we only just found out where in the cosmos Green World was in the last month or two.”

“That’s true… okay, you’ve got my curiosity up. Good work. Keep going, McGill.”

“Uh…”

I’d been thinking this experiment was over and done with. I was planning on returning to the lifter and pretending a bad day had been a good one. Graves clearly had other ideas.

“Sir? How are we supposed to proceed? This water-tunnel, or whatever it is, appears to lead to a certain point, and then it kills the guy walking in it.”

“Exactly. You’ve got two ghosts, right? Send the other one down there. Have her investigate and report on what happened to Cooper.”

That didn’t make me happy. My other ghost was Della, who happened to be the mother of my only daughter Etta. Ordering her to a pointless and possibly heinous death might put a damper on any Thanksgiving celebrations in the future.

“But sir, maybe the thin nature of Cooper’s kit is what killed him. The pressure down at a couple of hundred meters—”

“McGill, I don’t care if you send down Harris, or Sargon in an armored weaponeers’ kit—hell you can go yourself, dick-first. Just find out what happened and keep moving. This entire campaign so far is a cluster, and the brass wants a win out of it. Give me something. Something good.”

I accepted my orders and sighed.

“What? What did he say?” Harris asked me.

“He said he wants someone in armor to go down there. A kit that can take pressure—like yours.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“I’ll do it.” said a third voice.

We both turned to see Sargon. He was standing there in a veteran’s kit, which was a pretty big chunk of metal. I found it hard to argue.

“Leave your rifle behind,” I told him. “Let’s pay out a monofilament line clipped to your belt—we should have done that with Cooper, actually. We could have reeled him back in.”

Soon, Sargon was walking down between the two metal rails. He moved faster than Cooper had—at least at first. After all, he knew it was safe up to a point.

A few minutes later, Sargon’s labored breathing came back to us.

“I’ve reached him, sir—or almost.”

Using the monofilament, we were able to get video. Seawater interferes with radio transmissions, but a direct line got past all of that.

From Sargon’s point of view, I could see that Cooper was lying on the seabed. He was kind of twisted-up looking.

“What do you think happened to him, Sargon?”

“I don’t know. He looks… like he died in agony, honestly. He’s wound up like a pretzel. But I’m not reading any special pressure levels. I’m not sure what happened.”

Sargon turned and took a single step toward the corpse, but Natasha suddenly shouted at us. She’d come up and was watching the video feed like the rest of the officers were.

“Freeze, Veteran!”

Sargon obeyed. He didn’t move a muscle. In fact, it looked to me like one of his armored feet was suspended in the water over the sandy bottom.

“Step back to where you were, Sargon,” Natasha said in calmer voice. “Don’t go out there. Don’t leave the space between the two metal rails.”

“Uh… okay.”

I turned to Natasha. “What’s wrong, girl?”

“That’s how Cooper died. He stepped away from the two metal rails. It took me awhile to figure it out, but I finally—I think I have it.”

“Explain it to me. Quickly,” I told her.

“It’s about the pressure—the sudden change of pressure. I think these steel rails somehow exert a field that normalizes the pressure down here at about two bar. That’s very low. That should be the pressure level at only ten meters under the surface, and—”

“Listen, Specialist, I know you went to all those lab classes full of math and stuff, but I didn’t. What are you talking about?”

She took in a deep breath. “As you go deeper underwater, the pressure gets higher and higher.”

“Okay, I get that.”

“Well, this little, um railroad, whatever it is, this path keeps that pressure minimized. I realized it when I saw Sargon’s readings. He’s not under that much pressure. He’s at least two hundred meters down, but he’s experiencing about two bar—two atmospheres of pressure. Normally, he’d be at around twenty or so.”

“Huh… okay. So what?”

“So, when Cooper walked off the path, he was hit with all that pressure at once. It messed him up, gave him the bends, whatever. In fact, I think it must be worse that than. He shouldn’t have died instantly. Maybe the field itself somehow crushed him. I really don’t know.”

“That’s very weird, but okay, I can see how it fits the evidence. Let me contact Graves again.”

I did so, and I reported in like I’d discovered Christmas for the first time.

“That’s right, sir! It’s the damnedest thing. These aliens have built some kind of undersea railroad… what’s that?”

“Where does it go, McGill? This railroad of yours, where does it go?”

“Uh…” I said, looking down that long, long pathway. It seemed to me that it went straight down to Hell. “I don’t rightly know, sir.”

“Well, find out. March your whole unit down there. Leave a monofilament line paying out behind you, all the way to the surface. That way, if you’re crushed or something, you won’t be permed.”

“Always thinking of your troops, huh sir?”

“That’s right. Get going.”

With a sigh, I disconnected and relayed the good news to the rest of my unit. There was a lot of pissing and moaning and carrying on, but soon we were all marching single-file down that long, long pathway into the depths of an alien ocean.

-42-

“This has to top everything in recent Varus history,” Carlos complained to me. I was of the long-standing opinion that Carlos had remained my friend for decades mostly because I listened to his bullshit longer than most people did. “What, just what, has Graves ordered us to do that was worse than this?”

“Are you kidding?” Kivi demanded. “This is small-potatoes, Ortiz. Remember when we were sent out into the wilderness on Death World to follow Claver around? They called it a ‘deep patrol’ as I recall. Then they left the planet and forgot about us.”

“Oh yeah… but that hardly counts. That was punishment for McGill that we got caught up in. Besides, Drusus ordered that one, not Graves.”

“But Graves blew us all up with a missile in the end.”

“Ha-ha, yeah…”

They went on like that, but I was soon bored. I moved down the line, nudging past people to the front of the column where Barton and her lights walked with a paranoid demeanor. As I passed them, they reacted like I was going to shove them into the field, or something.

“Nervous nellies,” I laughed. “Your troops are whizzing in their suits, Adjunct.”

“With good reason, sir. One misstep and any of us is likely to be dead.”

“Yeah… but we don’t really know that, do we? Maybe it was a glitch.”

She looked at me darkly. “You can give it a try at any moment, sir. Just step over that metal line.”

I looked down at the tracks we were following. The gleaming, silvery metal lines were unbroken and seemed innocent enough. You couldn’t see the effects of the field holding back the water pressure—but you could feel them.

“We’ve got to be about a kilometer down now, maybe more. But I don’t feel a thing. Honestly, I think the pressure down here is less than normal water would exert on you ten meters down. It’s almost like walking in thick air.”

Natasha must have heard that, because she wandered near and started dumping nerd-data on me.

“We are in a low-density liquid region. It’s very strange. Almost as if the water has transformed into an unknown state.”

“Huh?”

“You do know that water has several forms, right? There are the familiar three: vapor, liquid and solid.”

“Solid…? You mean ice? You’re talking about steam and ice, right?”

Natasha suppressed her urge to do an eye-roll with difficulty. I’d noticed that people did that more frequently these days. It was probably due to my rank. Out of respect, they kind of stared and blinked a few times, instead of openly laughing and rolling their eyes at my dumb questions.

“That’s exactly right. But there is another state, one we don’t see often. It’s when water transforms into a kind of hot ice. That’s due to massive pressure, tens of thousands of meters down.”

“Uh… are you saying we might be marching that far? Because our suit-batteries will die way before that.”

She nodded, and her eyes looked kind of glassy inside her faceplate. “That’s a pity.”

I could tell the idea excited her. She wanted to see “hot ice” up close and personal.

As we kept going, the ocean became still and quiet. Overhead, it darkened to pitch black. That was partly due to the sun going down, and partly due to our great depth.

“Sir?” Harris said, coming to talk to me. “I’ve been doing some math.”

“Whoa! Don’t break your streak, Harris.”

He tossed me a look of reproach. “No, seriously sir. Think of our batteries. We can’t just march until we’re at half-power.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re going downhill. On the way back up, the exoskeletons my heavy troopers are wearing will have to work twice as hard.”

“So turn them off for now. Save them for the return journey.”

Harris made an unhappy face. “That will suck.”

“Yep. Good idea you’ve got there. Tell the troops you’ve figured out the answer to their problem.”

Grumbling, Harris wandered back to his platoon. I knew he was just trying to come up with reasons to turn back. I could hardly blame him for that. It was getting kind of spooky down here in the dark.

“Is Harris complaining already?” Leeson asked me.

“He sure is.”

“That weasel. His men are at an eighty percent charge still. We could walk down this slope for days.”

At around midnight, I called a halt to the main column. We would rest while the light platoon scouted ahead. They had a ninety percent charge left, after all. I also ordered that two thirds of the men were to shut down their lights at any given time. The lights burned juice, and with people looking every which way, we didn’t need to use them all at once.

These conservation measures were met with sullen disappointment. Many of the troops were counting the hours until we did a U-turn and went back to the world of light and air.

“This is ridiculous,” Harris complained to me over command chat. “How does Graves expect us to search an ocean on foot? If he wants to know what’s down here, all he has to do is dunk a probe or a mini-sub or something.”

“I don’t think he thought we’d have to march this far down to find anything. Besides, Legion Varus isn’t well-suited to underwater campaigns.”

“You can say that again. Remember those robots they loosed at us on Green Deck? That was hilarious.”

I could have mentioned the robots weren’t as funny to most of the units as they were to us, but I didn’t want to dampen any relief in the mood.

We ate ration-paste, sipped some fresh water and whizzed in our suits to make more water for later. After about twenty minutes, I got a message back from Barton. She’d gone down with the monofilament line trailing behind her.

“There’s something down here, Centurion—” I heard her say.

I stood up and tapped at my helmet. The signal was rough. “Say again, Barton? Have you made contact?”

There was nothing for about ten seconds. During that time, my men watched me with growing concern. They knew enough to stay quiet, however—even Carlos.

“Barton? Have you made—”

“Sir! Sir! We’re in action!”

I could hear her weapon firing when she transmitted. It sounded weird as it was underwater. Both her voice and the gunfire cut out suddenly.

For several long seconds, nothing happened. We all stood around, eyeing one another and listening intently. Barton had to be pretty far down. If we didn’t get a good sitrep report soon, I was going to have to make some hard decisions.

“It’s been too long,” Harris said at last in a hushed voice. “Maybe she’s gone.”

“Shut up and listen. She’ll report in.”

We waited another long count to ten, and then, at long last, something did happen.

The monofilament jumped under our feet. It began to pay out—fast.

“Looks like something grabbed our fishing lure, sir!” Carlos called out.

“Everyone step back from the line—don’t try to stop it!”

But my warning came too late. No less than four fools had their gloves on that squirming line already. When it snapped tight, it jerked them off their feet. Two of the four were thrown up into the water. They were instantly crushed by the field that protected us from the fantastic pressure of the ocean around us.

“Let go of that line! Let it go!”

The others did as I ordered, and the monofilament flew up out of sight.

“It’s like something big just grabbed the line and swam up toward the surface,” Natasha said. “Whatever it is, it must be a magnificent creature.”

Harris turned to me and pointed upward. “The monofilament is gone. That was our only lifeline to the surface, Centurion. We have to turn back.”

I thought about it. I really did. What stopped me was one simple fact: if we didn’t determine what had happened to Barton and her platoon, they were permed—all of them.

“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “We finally found what we’ve been looking for. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I am sure of one thing.” I jabbed a finger down into the dark depths of the ocean. “Whatever it is, it’s down there. Let’s go find it.”

Soon we were marching again, and I couldn’t tell you the last time my troops had looked so forlorn.

-43-

The water got colder and darker the farther we went down. Soon, it was icy and above us the sea was pitch black. We shivered in our suits, unwilling to run our heaters. The Lord himself only knew how badly we would need every ounce of power we had to get back to the world of air and light.

Going down deep in the ocean is normally a peaceful experience. Sure, it was creepy down here, with big weird growths and rocky cliffs to fall off of, but at least it was quiet and still.

That’s not how we felt this time out. We were all on edge. No one could forget the way that monofilament had jumped and twisted, like a steel cable tied to a dinosaur’s neck. What could have caused it to move that way? We really didn’t know, we could only conjecture.

“What if it was, like a huge whale or something?” Carlos asked aloud. “Or maybe a massive killer shark?”

“I doubt it,” Natasha told him. “Even a megalodon from Earth’s prehistoric period wouldn’t have that kind of strength. It was more likely a submarine, something else that’s artificial with a motor.”

“What’s a megalodon?”

“A shark the size of a whale.”

“Oooo… cool.”

Conversations like that proceeded in earnest all along my column of struggling troops. Everyone wanted to know what we were walking into, but there weren’t any easy answers—yet.

After a long half-hour of slogging in Barton’s wake, we reached a wide flat area. We’d been marching downhill all this time, sometimes winding around rocks and cliffs, but always downward.

This spot was different. It was wide, sandy and flat. What was more significant was the fact the two rails we’d been following had split apart, spreading in a great arc to surround the flat area.

“Natasha!” I shouted.

She came rushing to my side. I ordered everyone else to take a knee and keep their eyes peeled.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s like a tableland. A plateau.”

“What? Underwater?”

“Sure. Undersea geography isn’t all that different from what you see on the surface of any planet. There are mountain ranges, valleys—everything. It’s just underwater.”

“Uh… yeah, I get that. But the rails have split apart. Why?”

Natasha looked around and took readings. She tried to send buzzers ahead into the dark regions, but they failed to operate just as they’d done far above in the shallows. After a few minutes, she came back to report to me.

“It seems like the field is still in place. The pressure here is still lower than standard water at any depth. But James—I found something else.”

She showed me a boot. At first, I thought maybe it was pulled off one of our troops—one of Barton’s unfortunate lights. But then I saw there still a foot in the boot, and a gray-white shinbone sticking up out of it. This soldier hadn’t just lost a boot, he’d lost his life.

I dropped the boot and lifted my rifle. “Unit, weapons out. Advance with caution. Let’s search this flat area. Whatever you do, don’t step over the rails!”

The troops did as I ordered, fanning out. The heavies were the first rank, then the weaponeers strung along a few paces behind them. A belcher would put out a lot of heat and bubbles underwater, but it was still an effective weapon at short range.

In the rear of the group were Leeson’s softies. They were bio people and techs for the most part. They looked more nervous than anyone else.

When we finally met up with the enemy, we were just as surprised as Barton’s troops must have been. They sprang up out of the sands at our feet. Cephalopods—better known as space-squids—grappled with our front line.

Many of the heavy troopers stepped right onto the squirming enemy, who’d buried themselves in the dirty seabed to lie in ambush.

Bolts flew, blasting bubbles as they super-heated the water they passed through. Surprised men shouted while huge, three meter tall squids battled with them. I was right there, but I didn’t use my morph-rifle like most of my troops.

Instead, I extended my force blades a meter out from each of my wrists. These weapons slashed through the low-density water very effectively. Soon, a dozen other heavies followed my example. The squids were in close on us, and they were wrapping their heavy tentacles around our bodies. Each heavy trooper that faced a squid had a tough time of it. I felt like I was wrestling a pit full of boa constrictors.

What saved us in the end was our armor, and our force-blades. Barton’s light troops had been down here in sheer suits. It must have looked like kids in pajamas fighting adults. Caught up-close and personal, they’d been torn apart. Just getting a rifle in line with a squid who was right there in your face, throwing his coiled tentacles around you, was damned near impossible.

“Use your force blades! Trim those tentacles and turn them into stumps!”

The water was soon black with ink and blood. There was no way to tell what was ours or theirs, it was all mixing together in a ghastly cloud.

The squid I was wrestling with was soon short three of his eight tentacles. Changing tactics, he gripped me suddenly in a bear-hug and his big thick beak came at me. That was a freaky thing. I could see it, spread wide and as big as a football cut in half. The nasty thing clacked against my faceplate.

Fortunately, my helmet held, but my air hoses weren’t so lucky. One was snipped, and bubbles poured out. My suit compensated by shutting off the flow. Still, it was only a matter of time before I suffocated.

Roaring with effort, my ears rang with my guttural vocalizations. Howling inside a helmet will give you a headache right-quick. Just ask anyone who’s done it.

I managed to get a force blade to twitch upward, slicing into the central meat of the alien that gripped me. He shuddered and gave one last convulsive squeeze before he reluctantly relaxed in death.

Cursing, I peeled away history’s biggest calamari appetizer ever. After thirty seconds or so, I was free and standing on the seabed again. My breath came in ragged panting, and already my air felt a little thin. I’d have to repair my suit soon, but the battle was still raging around me.

“Harris? Sitrep!”

“Centurion? Are you still alive? Wow, I thought you were squid-meat.”

“Sitrep, Harris.”

“We’ve got six dead, two seriously hurt. The squids are mostly dead now, however. We gave them a good old-fashioned Varus schooling, sir.”

“Good job. Finish them all off.”

“Uh… no prisoners, sir?”

“You heard me. These are renegade squids. They’ve already broken their oath to Earth. I’m not going to start coddling them now.”

Harris relayed the order, and the team mopped up the last of the enemy. The squids had had the element of surprise, but they hadn’t been able to take down a platoon of heavy soldiers with specialist back-up.

When we’d recovered as best we could, including a patch-job on my ailing suit, we proceeded with caution. We soon found the discarded remains of Barton and her light troopers.

“Dead,” Leeson said, coming near and whistling in appreciation. “A full platoon, all dead. Those lights with snap-rifles didn’t stand a chance against these squids.”

“Good thing they won’t remember this death.”

“How’s that?”

I pointed a finger upward, toward the distant surface. “They were out of range of any storage unit when they died. Their tappers will have recorded some of the memories, but the worst of it should be safely forgotten.”

“Yeah… that’s probably a good thing for these kids.”

We gathered up spare energy cells and oxygen tanks after that. I didn’t like to admit it, but Barton’s misfortune might help the rest of the unit. Our supplies were getting iffy at this point.

After searching the rest of the plateau, we found that it continued downward on the far side. That single, relatively thin path between the rails led even deeper into the ocean.

Harris came near as I contemplated the path downward. He eyed me with a baleful expression.

“Sir? You aren’t thinking of going down farther, are you? Please tell me we’re turning back.”

“I don’t know, Harris. We haven’t found the bottom of this rabbit-hole yet. Graves wants answers.”

Harris threw his arms high and wide in a gesture of supplication. “Come on, McGill. We made contact with the enemy, and we lost damn-near half your unit. We can take these tapper recordings back to the surface and turn them in for revives. Not a single soldier here needs to be permed.”

I looked at him, and I knew he was right. We’d done about as much as we could do at this point. Pushing onward would be hazardous and maybe even stupid. Why get permed if you couldn’t even report back to your commander what the hell had happened down here?

Still, part of me wanted to go on. I wanted to walk down this path and kill every living squid on this planet. They were natural traitors, the lot of them. Every squid that had ever drawn a gill-full of dirty seawater deserved a good perming six days a week and twice on Sunday.

Heaving a sigh, I turned away. “You’re right, Harris. Get everyone on their feet. We’re going back up.”

He beamed at me. “Thank God! He’s seen the light, people! We’re going back up!”

A ragged cheer rose throughout the tired legionnaires. There’s something about marching through water, even thinner water than was natural, that just makes a man bone-tired. We were all pretty much beat, and now we had a long, long walk uphill to contend with.

But no one felt unhappy about it. Everyone wanted to get started, to get the hell off the bottom of this sea and back to sunlight, air and fresh winds. We’d been breathing our own stinks and squelching in sweaty boots for so many long hours now, it was going to feel like heaven just to open our helmets under that green sky.

We gathered up our stuff and began the retreat eagerly enough. A few troops had to be dragged or half-carried over the shoulders of two others, but no one was complaining. Everyone talked about hot meals and hot showers. The general mood of the unit had risen five points in five minutes.

All that good cheer ended, however, when a bloodcurdling scream rang out. We all stopped and sent beams of bright light stabbing into the deep watery darkness.

I spotted Kivi at the front of the line. She was pointing upward and screeching at something. She’d kept to the rear of the formation, being a bio and all, and no one had faulted her for that. But when we’d all turned around, she’d naturally been at the front of the column as we began the uphill climb.

At first I was confused, as were the rest of the troops. We looked her over, expecting to see some kind of ghastly injury. Then, once we realized she was okay, we looked around her feet for some horrible discovery. Had she found Barton’s head or something even worse? Something floating in the dirty water?

No. That wasn’t it, either. Kivi was pointing upward, at about a forty-five degree angle. Pointing at nothing.

“Look at it, you fools! Look!”

Gathering around and asking questions, we found she wasn’t in an answering mood. She struggled to move into our midst, to retreat behind the ranks of specialists and heavies.

“What’s gotten into you, girl?” Leeson asked. “I don’t see a damned thing.”

“Maybe she saw a whale or something,” Harris suggested. “She’s spooked herself.”

“It was no whale. It was a monster. Just keep looking—you’ll see it. The thing is lurking. It’s watching us right now.”

We stopped advancing and studied the rails. They were coming together again, forming the narrow path that led up to the surface.

It was about then that a number of troopers gasped. They’d seen movement. Impossible movement.

“I saw something,” Leeson said. “McGill? Centurion? Kivi is right. There is something out there. It’s hanging around above us—just a little to the right of the path. See it?”

More people turned on their suit lights, and we all peered into the dark water. The drifting bits of sand, fish-shit and dead plankton made it hard to see much, but I had to admit, there was a big, billowing something out there.

Kivi appeared at my side as I squinted upward into the dark sea. “You see it, McGill? There’s something so big out there, so impossibly huge, that it doesn’t look like an object at all.”

“Uh… you mean that shadow? It looks like… I don’t know. A hulking region of water that’s darker than the rest. That’s what you’re talking about?”

“Yes. It’s like a part of the ocean itself is gliding around apart from the rest.”

Natasha was skeptical. “We might just be seeing an underwater avalanche, or something.”

I nodded, but I wanted to be sure. “Unit, everyone turn on your lights at once. Focus right up there—over the path we came down on.”

They did as I ordered, and soon the region in question was a tiny bit brighter. The dark object that hung there, the moving shadow in the water, it seemed even blacker now. You could see it only due to the fact it was darker than the water that surrounded it.

“McGill,” Harris said, standing at my right elbow. “Whatever it is, that thing means to block our path back up to the surface.”

“Yup. That’s what I think, too.”

-44-

We were all out of light troopers, so I tried to figure out who among my surviving men was the most useless.

It definitely wasn’t one of the heavies, or my two officers, or my noncom veterans or weaponeers. I needed all my best fighters, in case things went badly.

I still had one ghost, Della... I also had a few bio people and techs. That was it. So, it had to be between Della and the bio guys. Della had a stealth suit, although that wasn’t much good under water. You could kind of see her outline due to the displacement of water. You could see her absence, so to speak, because the light-bending tech wasn’t really invented to handle a liquid medium.

“Della! You’re up!”

She ghosted up to me, just like she was supposed to. “I’m really going to have to go up that hill alone? Really?”

“That’s right. The thing probably won’t even see you.”

“James, you know undersea creatures use many senses besides vision. Especially if they lurk at the bottom of oceans where there’s no light at all.”

“Yeah well… good luck, girl.”

She hesitated. “This isn’t because I didn’t come to Thanksgiving last year, is it? I told you I was busy.”

“Nah. Come on, Della. Don’t pull that. If you’re going to work in a legion with a family member, you have to forget all that stuff when shit becomes real.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m sorry. I’m a little… concerned.”

I wished her well, and she moved away and up the slope. Harris came to stand beside me.

“You pissed at her, or something?”

“No, man. What’s wrong with everyone today? She’s a scout, and there’s definitely some scouting to be done here.”

“More like some fishing with your ex-girlfriend as bait.”

I glared at him. “You want to replace her? Just say the word.”

He shut up and vanished quicker than a ghost. Meanwhile, Della made steady progress. She wasn’t moving fast, or slow, she kept up a steady pace. I had to hand it to her. The fact that she was more or less visually invisible wasn’t the end of her skills. She’d come from Dust World, and she’d been ranked as a scout by her people. That essentially made her a commando, a native of her planet who was known for getting around in a stealthy manner.

No plumes of dust came up from the seabed where she walked. Nothing seemed disturbed at all. I wasn’t sure how she was doing it. She could have been swimming, but I doubted it. The thin water didn’t support a person who paddled at it. We’d all tried that at one point or another on this long journey into darkness.

No, she must be stepping in heavily tread spots, cleverly using the footprints of others, who’d come down the other way and kicked up any debris that was there for the kicking.

Everyone held their breath, watching as she moved upslope. A dozen meters, then two dozen.

“She’s going to make it,” Leeson said in admiration. “I’m pinging her exact location, and she’s got to be right under the crotch of whatever that thing is hovering over the ocean floor.”

I turned toward him. “You’re pinging her? With your officer’s display?”

Every officer in Varus was issued some special equipment. One item was a tricked out helmet. We could do a lot of things with it, such as marking targets and locating missing soldiers.

“Uh…” he said.

That’s when I put a big, gloved hand on him. “Turn that damned thing off, Leeson. That’s an order!”

“Okay, okay!”

He twiddled some controls, and we both turned to stare out into the dark again. For a goodly ten seconds, nothing happened. We both sighed in relief, and I almost unhanded him—almost.

But then, something shifted. Something big above the pathway kind of—rippled. Out of this ripple fell a glittering loop.

“Oh, gee-zus,” Leeson said. “I’m sorry man. I’m so sorry.”

I opened my mouth in confusion. I didn’t know what the hell he was sorry about, exactly. But then, I caught on.

“That’s the monofilament,” I said. “That thing out there—it ripped it up off the ocean floor hours ago. Now, it’s trying to fish for Della with it.”

“Maybe she’ll get away, McGill. She’s a slippery one.”

I watched, and I thought he might be right. The monofilament, a glittering wire that reflected our shining lights, dragged over the seabed, kicking up muck. All Della had to do was step over it at the right moment—like a kid skipping over a jump-rope.

“Della,” I said on a direct transmission. She was still in range for that. “Just dodge the line when it comes. Don’t even answer me. Just hop over it.”

“She’ll do it,” Leeson said. “Let’s just watch and see how it goes.”

I shook him. His helmet flopped back and forth like a ragdoll’s head in the hands of an abused child. “Get up there! Take your weaponeers. Lance that thing in the belly while it’s distracted.”

“Sir? Are you serious? That thing is huge.”

“It’s not going to get any smaller, Leeson. Attack while the enemy is distracted. That’s tactics 101.”

He didn’t argue any further. Instead, he called up his groaning weaponeers, eight of them in all. They unlimbered their belchers, tightened down the beams to their narrowest setting, and marched up the hill toward the strange monster.

“That’s a great idea,” Harris told me eagerly. He’d reappeared from somewhere. “Leeson and his muscle heads will flush this thing out, or nobody can.”

“Harris, you’re up next. If the weaponeers fail, you’re going to do the job.”

“With what?”

“Force-blades, if you have to. Get going!”

“Shit…” Harris called up his platoon, and they marched upward resolutely.

I followed with the ragtag specialists and injured troops who weren’t much good for fighting monsters. This was it, we were going to do or die right here.

Some might have thought I was mad to march right into the jaws of a half-seen leviathan, but the way I figured it, we didn’t have much choice. Whatever this thing was, it was native to this environment. It could outmaneuver us and take it’s time. If we waited until it seemed to go away, it would just come back later, dogging us when we were all strung out on the pathway and virtually helpless.

Worse, we couldn’t afford to screw around. We were slowly running out of power, air—everything. A waiting game could only benefit the monster.

No, the time to move was right now. We knew where it was, and we were going to gut it if possible. Maybe we’d all die right here. I knew that was a distinct possibility, but I couldn’t see how we could hope to get a better shot at it later on.

It was now or never.

We advanced a dozen shuffling steps. Then two dozen more.

That’s about as far as we made it upslope before the creature—if it truly was a creature—took notice.

It stopped dipping and dragging its silvery loop of wire. Instead, it snatched the line up and away.

“It’s gone!”

“It’s running!”

My troops gawked overhead like dummies. They stopped walking and turned in circles, trying to see it again.

“Keep moving, dammit!” Harris shouted. “March men, march!”

He’d beaten me to it this time. The troops obeyed, moving uphill at an increased pace. The floating dust from the seabed rose up in a hazy brownish-gray cloud.

“Weaponeers,” I called out. “Stand your ground until ten troops pass, then start moving uphill again one at a time. I want you placed evenly throughout the column. I have a feeling your belchers are our best defense. Kivi, you and Natasha start rigging up some explosives in our wake. Nothing too smart, no mobile crawlers. Just proximity mines on a timer.”

“But sir,” Natasha complained. “An explosion might rupture this field we’re in. If it collapses, we’ll collapse. The water could come in and crush us.”

“How sure are you that this will happen?”

“I’m not at all sure, Centurion. I’m giving you a possible scenario.”

“Kivi? What do you think?”

“Uh… I don’t know. It could happen. But unless we actually blow up one of these rails, I doubt it will.”

I thought that over. “The order stands,” I said. “We’re in a bad way down here, and we’ve got to take some risks. Deploy the mines at the rear of the column.”

They did as I ordered, and the rest of them moved upslope in a scrambling trot.

Suddenly, a part of the ocean water rippled right in front of me. I almost jumped out of my skin. Then Della appeared.

“McGill? This thing is hunting us.”

“No shit. Did you see any details? You were up close and personal with it.”

“Not really, but it knew I was there. It kept dipping that loop into the field, dragging it over the seabed, trying to snare me.” She gave a little shudder. “Now I know what it’s like to be a crab under a rock with a predator lurking nearby.”

“Yeah… that’s what it is, isn’t it? A predator. That could be a good thing. If it’s a natural creature that just happens to live down here, it won’t be too determined. It might flee if we give it a hotfoot. Also, it’s not likely to be working as part of a team.”

“All true James, but … it’s intelligent. It was using an improvised tool. It’s been stalking us for many hours now. Don’t underestimate it.”

“Good advice.”

Della disappeared again, and I didn’t give her any special orders. As far as I was concerned, she’d done her job and then some. If a ghost could flush an enemy and not die—well sir, that was as good as it got in her line of work.

For about ten long minutes, nothing really bad happened. The troops slogged along, with Natasha and Kivi playing sapper in the rear. They dropped a dozen mines before I told them to save the rest.

Everyone began to breathe more easily. Sure, we were still looking around with wide eyes, but we didn’t have that icy edge of panic in the back of our minds any longer. It was beginning to look like the sea creature had moved on.

After the tenth minute passed, however, we heard a crump behind us.

A shockwave ran through the water, and it kicked up dust and sent a gush of bubbles our way.

“Damn, that was close! Sound off! Anyone hurt?”

Kivi answered—but Natasha didn’t. They’d been in the rear, and Natasha had been blown off the path and crushed.

“Shit… Kivi, what happened? Did she screw up one of her bombs?”

“No sir, I don’t think so. We were done with laying the mines when it went off. It should have been behind us.”

“Oh… oh shit. Troops! Advance! At the double!” I shouted this last over tactical chat, so the entire unit heard me.

If there’s one thing a Varus man doesn’t do after his first dozen deaths, it’s hesitate. They all kicked up the pace as one. Everyone began to jog, whether they were sipping water, playing with their dicks or chatting to a friend on their tappers. They all moved at once.

I saw it a moment later. A metallic glint above us.

“Look up! Watch out, falling mines!”

That’s what it was. One of our own mines. The creature had somehow plucked it up without detonating it, and it was now falling into our midst.

Screaming and rushing in every direction, the column tried to scatter. Some went to ground. Others went uphill, more still went back down again.

But… then there were three unlucky souls. Maybe they’d been too freaked out to think. Maybe their training had kicked in at a bad moment, or they’d just gotten turned around somehow while they scanned the dark water above for falling death. Whatever the case, they stepped over the rails and died, jerking and flopping in the water for a few seconds like gigged frogs.

“Watch your damned step!” I shouted, but of course, it was too late for some of them.

The bomb dropped down into our midst—but it didn’t explode.

“I deactivated it,” Kivi said, breathing hard in my ear. “It wasn’t easy, that was one of Natasha’s. But the codes are the same. We’re okay. The bombs are all deactivated now.”

It was a good thing, too. That shadow over our heads was sweeping by, doing a long pass. One at a time, the bombs dropped onto the path harmlessly. I had to roar and curse to get my troops to stop lunging away from them.

After a few minutes of this, the creature must have run out of bombs. We got up, reassembled and started climbing the hill again. Everyone was in a foul, fearful mood. We eyed the waters overhead like a column of ants waiting for a farmer’s boot to fall among us.

-45-

The tunnel of water seemed endless and without pity. Going uphill was much more exhausting than it had been going down. After a few hours, no one was talking or laughing. We were all saving our breath and gazing up fearfully now and then. It was all we could do to keep placing one boot in front of the other. The pace was hypnotic.

“Don’t stop. No breaks. We’re going to keep marching until we drop, or we see daylight.”

People groaned aloud when they heard this order, but they didn’t argue with it.

Every ten minutes or so, the sea monster that haunted us pulled some trick or another. I was really beginning to hate the thing. It was sneaky, smart and as mean as cat dirt.

Once it had figured out the bombs were useless, it began dipping the monofilament into our midst. Sometimes, it snagged a soldier by the ankle or dropped a loop around a man’s helmet. If the victim wasn’t quick, it would yank them off the path and let them die in the crushing depths.

I got the feeling it was enjoying itself. Toying with us. We were entertainment for this thing—nothing more.

Ideas surged in my mind, of course, one after another. But I couldn’t come up with a way of hurting it.

At last, Carlos did the trick. He didn’t actually have an idea, mind you, but he triggered a thought to spark up in my brain.

“It’s like being a fish and having some kind demented fisherman after you. I hate this thing so much, I wish we could electrify that wire or something.”

Pausing, I grabbed him. He looked up at me curiously.

“The wire…” I said. “That’s the key.”

“Uh… sure it is, McGill. If you say so.”

He trudged ahead, and I sized him up. He was plump, loud, and useless. The perfect bait.

“Kivi? You got any more mines on you?”

“Yessir, but I don’t recommend dropping any more behind us. The creature deactivated them and dropped them back onto our heads.”

“Right, right, I’m well aware. What I’m thinking of is something a little more direct. I’m thinking of bait, and hooks. Like fishing.”

“Um… what?”

I pointed at Carlos. “He’s the bait. The fishing line is that monofilament the monster keeps dropping down into our troops. The hook, though—the thing that’s going to catch this fish—that’s where your bombs come into the story. Rig a few of them so they’re deactivated, but they’ll go off with a signal.”

“Oh… that’s evil, James. Will you even tell Carlos?”

“Nah… bait has to act natural to catch a smart fish. Besides, he might argue if he knows what’s coming next. Get together a sack of bombs, and set them all to go off when they get a signal from you.”

Kivi began to work on it, and she was done fast. “I don’t feel good about this, James.”

“I know, I know. Look, here he comes. Play along.”

“Hey!” Carlos said, bobbing as he hopped downhill to where Kivi and I stood together. We were at the very rear of the group now, as everyone had been walking by us while Kivi worked. “Are you hitting on my best girl again, McGill? Are things really that hard-up on Green World for you?”

Carlos had been Kivi’s boyfriend now and then for years, but lately that’d been more off than on.

“Hey Specialist. You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

“Um… what? Oh jeez, no way. Don’t tell me—”

“That’s right, you’ve been volunteered. Take this sack of bombs to the rear of the column and wait until you see the monster come by again. Then, you start planting them one at a time, about ten meters apart.”

“Ah come on, McGill. You know the bombs failed miserably last time around. I don’t deserve this. None of us do.”

“This time will be different. Trust me.”

Carlos narrowed his eyes, and I could tell it would be a cold day in Hell when he trusted me during a campaign. But, as I was the centurion and all, he didn’t have much choice.

Grumbling, he followed the long column. Immediately, I saw him bend over to plant a bomb like an Easter egg.

“Hey, hey! Not yet, Ortiz. You wait until it comes back again.”

“I don’t get it,” Kivi said to me privately. “Is Carlos the bait, or is it the bombs?”

“A little of both. I know it had a lot of fun dropping those on us earlier. Maybe it wants to do so again.”

Several long minutes passed. During that time, we peered into the gloomy ocean and kept trudging uphill. Now and then, I thought maybe I saw something, but it could have been the shadows. The ocean was full of dark, distant shapes. Usually they were just rocks.

“McGill, it’s back,” Kivi told me, whispering for no reason at all. “I think it’s stalking Carlos.”

“Okay. Don’t say anything. Just let nature take its course. “

“He looks so forlorn back there, all by himself. This is going to be harder than I thought.”

From my point of view, it was pretty damned easy. The monster darkened the water overhead, and the dark patch became larger every second. Finally, even Carlos noticed.

“Holy shit!”

“Place a bomb, Specialist!” I shouted back to him as he began to run. “You’re slacking!”

Hurriedly, Carlos dropped a bomb. Then he took ten hopping steps and bent over to place another.

That was it. The creature apparently couldn’t take being mooned by Carlos any more than the rest of us could. He dipped down that long silvery wire, with a loop tied into the end. Carlos spotted it, and he dodged, whooping. He began to run uphill, and no amount of orders from me to stand and take his medicine managed to slow him down.

“Carlos is really moving,” Kivi said.

“Yep. People think he’s a potato with arms and legs, but he can get up and go when he wants to.”

We watched as the one-sided contest went on. In the final moments, the wire caught up to him. Deftly, the sea creature slipped a knotted teardrop-shaped loop around his middle, and he was snatched upward.

“Dammit! He dropped the sack of bombs! Kivi, hit the detonator!”

She slammed her palms together, depressing a switch she’d held at the ready. The signal went out, broadcast to the bombs.

“Everyone, get down! Throw yourselves flat!” Following my own advice, I dove onto the seabed. Behind us, the ocean lit-up with a flash, then a shockwave of bubbles and water hit us in the butts like a runaway truck.

Several legionnaires were caught off-guard and tossed into the field that protected us. I could hardly blame them for that. We hadn’t discussed our plans with anyone. Doing so would probably have spooked Carlos and blown the whole plan.

As it was, no less than seven people lost their lives in the next thirty seconds, including Carlos himself.

The creature seemed stricken. He was still up there, I could see him as a darker patch of water, but he was drifting off to the right side. He was coming lower, too.

“Sargon! Leeson, get your weaponeers back here, on the double. We’re going to fry up some calamari tonight!”

The five remaining weaponeers staggered to their feet and came walking down toward me. They were all the biggest men in the unit. Hulking figures with massive powered armor and belchers on their shoulders.

“Over there, to the right. You see it? He’s hurt, I think.”

“More than that,” Sargon said, “I think he’s dead. He’s not moving, sir.”

“Let’s make sure. Light him up.”

They set themselves in a row, and as one they began beaming the monster’s side.

This was the closest I’d ever gotten to the thing. I took photos with my tapper, and I did some guesstimating. The body was ropy, as if it was built out of a bunch of thick tubes of meat. Each tube was the size of a massive tree trunk. And the whole monster? I don’t know… I couldn’t see all of it. Gray skin, mottled with white and pink splotches. Whatever it was, it was big, and it was sinfully ugly.

After that single, long glimpse, I lost sight of it. This was mostly because Sargon and his sidekicks had done as I’d ordered. They’d all released a long blast at once, like a firing squad.

As a result, the water between us and the creature turned into bubbles and super-heated steam. The water seemed to burn in spots, and that was weird.

Criss-crossing lines stitched into the creature’s hide. That much I was sure of. They were burning it, and they were burning it good.

“All right, ceasefire!” I shouted. “All these bubbles are getting in the way, in any case.”

“Is it dead?” Sargon asked. “I think it’s dead, Centurion. Nothing could have taken a volley like that.”

“You’re probably right. Give the water a chance to clear and—”

That’s when something came out of nowhere. It was big, it was round, and it was as thick as a column on a Roman temple. The arm, or stalk, or whatever it was, slashed violently into our midst. It came right through the field that surrounded us, and it struck Sargon squarely.

He didn’t have a chance to do anything about it. One second, he’d been boasting about his kill, and the next he was knocked ass-over-teakettle straight backward.

Although he scrambled for a grip on the seabed, it was hopeless. He was knocked over the rail and into the open ocean. A moment later, he was doing that gulping, spazzing dance we’d all seen before.

“Burn it again!” I shouted, angrily. I picked up Sargon’s belcher, and I fired it with the rest of them. The water went white with all the bubbles and released energy.

When it all cleared, we were down low, panting and gripping the seabed.

“Do you see it? Do any of you see it?”

“No, Centurion. There’s nothing there. It’s gone.”

I cursed up a blue streak. Who had played who? I was sure it had been hurt, but maybe it had pretended to be more hurt than it was…

“Dammit. Let’s go before it comes back.”

We hustled up the slope, leaving more dead behind us. I had no idea if it was mortally wounded, pissed off, or just toying with us some more. Whichever was the case, I wanted to get out of here as fast as possible.

My unit—the half of them that were still breathing—climbed for the surface in a near-panic. No more urging to speed was needed by me or anyone else.

When one man slipped and fell, the rest were as likely to tramp over his back as lift him up and set him on his feet. It was a battle for time, now. We were low on air, power and nerves.

I tried to keep discipline, of course. I shouted at the worst offenders and threatened to toss men off the tracks and into oblivion. This had an effect, but it was muted. In order to keep them from losing it entirely, I kept them moving, rushing uphill.

A lot of us were on all-fours in the steep areas. Climbing over rocks and weeds with churning hands. I—”

“Hey!” I shouted. “That’s a weed! I saw seaweed! Look, troops! We’re almost there!”

With blank faces, they stared upward and panted. It was true. Patches of underwater growths were everywhere now. Each meter we struggled upward showed us more of them.

“But it’s still dark above us,” Harris complained, staring up and gaping.

“Sure is. Check your tapper. It’s damn near midnight.”

“Holy shit…” he said, “you mean we’ve been climbing all night long?”

“Yep,” Leeson told him. “You got a problem with that, Harris? If you want, we could set you up with a nice sandy spot to curl up and take a nap.”

“Shut up. We’re getting out of here. Come on, boys, we’re less than a kilometer from the surface!”

It was true, but there was still a long way to go. Another ten minutes passed, and that stretched into a half-hour. We were all taking stims and those who had run out of power were begging for others to let them leech. Somehow, we all made it to the point where the waves were just overhead.

There, I stopped and paused, sides heaving. All my troops passed me by. They were clapping me on the shoulder, grinning tiredly.

“You got us the hell out of that hellhole, McGill,” Leeson said. “I hereby thank all that’s holy and your mama too for whelping your giant ass.”

“Thanks, Leeson.”

The group slogged the final hundred steps, but I lingered behind. I was looking downslope. Looking for something special.

I stood there for a long time. In fact, I was the very last man to walk out of the sea.

But behind me, way down there at the edge of darkness, another being lingered. He was watching me, just as I was watching him.

He was big, impossibly big, but he had some respect for us now. He was staying well back, just watching.

What was so interesting to this monster? Why had he followed us into the shadows without attacking? Was it because he was afraid… or was it something else?

Thinking about it, I became concerned.

Maybe—just maybe—he’d let us go. Maybe he’d toyed with us all along, then decided to follow us, to see where we went.

To see where we’d come from.

With a shudder, I turned and walked out of the water, into the surf, and up onto a rocky beach. The stars were out overhead, and I opened my visor to catch a fresh breeze. I didn’t think simple sea air could taste so good.

-46-

Graves was all frowns and grumbles, but he couldn’t argue that we hadn’t given it our all during our undersea adventure.

“So you never got a real look at the thing chasing you? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“That’s right, Primus, sir. The damned thing was big, and smart, and natural to water. It had gray and pink skin—I think. There were hints of suckers and maybe some tentacles, or arms… or something like that.”

Graves gave me his patented stare of disgust. I was so happy to be back on dry land I barely cared. No wait, I don’t like to lie to myself: the cold truth was I didn’t care at all. Not one whit.

“So we have an unknown enemy capable of driving off a full unit single-handedly. That’s just great. What a waste of time.”

“Hold on now, Primus, I’d say we learned a great deal of critical info. For one thing, I’d say that creature is water-bound. He can’t come up here and mess with us. The pressure change alone would probably kill him.”

“Maybe, and maybe not. My xeno people are telling me that some creatures evolve their own biological systems for dealing with massive pressure changes. Such animals exist on Earth.”

I shrugged. I was already bored with the conversation. All I could think about was a hot shower and some hot food.

Playing dumb was one of the keys to keeping a debriefing short, and I employed this tactic to the fullest. Eventually, Graves figured out he wasn’t going to get anything else useful out of me, and he let me go.

The legion had decided to camp heavily on local islands, having nowhere better to go. Three full cohorts had landed and deployed from an equal number of lifters. This was good news for me, as they’d had plenty of time to set up some prefab amenities. Less than an hour after climbing out of that cold, dark green sea, I’d showered up and found the mess tent.

Gathering up my customary two plates of chow and adding one more because I was hungry, I dug in with a happy sigh. Carlos showed up before I’d finished my first plate. He had wet hair, but it wasn’t from sweat or from the sea—he’d died when we’d almost made it to the surface.

Grimacing, I let him sit down to eat beside me.

“Hey buddy,” he said, “I want to tell you there’s no hard feelings from me over dying down there.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s right. I thought for sure you were going blow me up with Kivi’s bombs, but you just had me play rabbit with them. A dick-move for sure, but acceptable under the circumstances. I would have survived, actually, if that thing hadn’t hooked me later with its fishing line.”

“Hehe yeah, that was funny.”

Carlos ate his grub for a few moments, but then he started talking again. With Carlos, that was as certain and unwelcome as waking up alone with a morning boner.

“Say, since we’re buds again, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

Here it comes. “How’s that?”

“I need a signature. A scribble will do, really.”

“On what?” I asked warily.

He showed me a roll of computer paper. “On this discharge notice. I’m quitting.”

“Ah come on, now. I thought you didn’t have any hard feelings?”

“Oh noooo, I’m feeling fine. I’m the belle of the ball here on Green World.”

I looked it over. It was an actual request to discontinue service. I couldn’t believe it. “I could sign this, but you’ll need more people up the line.”

“I know that.”

“Jeez, Carlos… come on. You don’t really want to quit, do you?”

He sighed. “It’s not just this. It’s a lot of things. I’ve been doing some thinking.”

That was a bad thing for any man to do, but in the legions, it was possibly the worst thing that could happen to any soldier. Our lives, after all, were abnormal and downright crazy. Anyone who could accept dying all the time had to be a little nuts.

“Look,” I said, “I’ll sign this later, when the campaign is over, if you still want out.”

“Yeah? All right. I guess I can’t argue with that. They won’t fly me home or anything until this is over.”

“Right. Besides, my handwriting is about as bad as my singing,” I said.

Carlos immediately perked up. “What? You mean you sing like a serial killer? What does that even sound like?”

We laughed, and then we ate together quietly. I didn’t argue with him about wanting to leave the service. We’d all thought about it. I was kind of surprised that getting eaten by one oversized sea monster had finally done the trick, but why not? What would make me quit someday, assuming I wasn’t permed first? It was a mystery to be pondered.

Later on, I was yawning on my bunk, and someone small and shapely came to bug me.

“Kivi? What is it, girl? I’m pretty bushed.”

“I’m glad we made it back home,” she said.

“Yeah, I am too. Now, if you’re not in the mood to climb into my bunk, I’d thank you to find someone else to talk to.”

She ignored this and walked into my tent anyway. It was a single, about three meters square. That was high-living when you were in the field with the legions, even for a centurion.

“Um…” she said, “have you heard about Carlos? He’s talking about quitting.”

“Oh yeah, he told me. We’ll throw him a party or something.”

A small foot thumped into my ribs. I growled and came halfway out of my bunk. Kivi skipped away deftly.

“Sorry… I’m upset.”

“What? You mean about Carlos? Who are you kidding? You haven’t given him the time of day for a year or three.”

“Yes… I know. I feel bad about that now. And I feel bad about giving him bombs and blowing him up today.”

I yawned uncontrollably. “Can this wait until morning?”

“No.”

Sighing, I sat up on one elbow. “I need a drink.”

She had one, as I suspected. We shared it and winced. It wasn’t the good stuff. It was brown, and it smelled like varnish. That’s about the best I could say for it.

Still, it got the job done. I was soon dozing again with my arm tossed over my face.

I felt Kivi hovering near. She wasn’t getting the hint.

Now, a man like me wanted to either get some tail or some shuteye at night. I couldn’t do both, usually. Right now, Kivi was breaking my rules by refusing to allow me to have either one.

Finally, I removed my arm and stared up at her. “What?”

“You’ve got to do something, James.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… you tricked him into joining legion Varus all those years ago, didn’t you?”

“That’s just a rumor.” The truth was, of course, that I had tricked him into joining. I’d talked up the legion because I kind of hated him when I first met him.

That thought gave me a pang. I sighed. “All right, all right,” I said. “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

“If you can do that, I’ll warm your bed for the whole trip back.”

Now, at long last, she had my attention. I sat up, and my eyebrows were lifted as high as they could go. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Just for old Carlos? What about Sargon? Isn’t he still your—?”

She made a rude noise with her lips. “No way. I’m tired of him. I was tired of him before Edge World.”

I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. How about a little… incentive?”

I reached for her, but she danced away again. “No. Get him to erase that discharge paper, then we’ll talk.”

I flopped back on my bunk, and she finally left me in peace. Naturally, I had no idea at all how I was going to change Carlos’ mind. I’d just wanted her to go away.

Sighing contentedly, my mind blanked out, and I fell sound asleep.

-47-

Only the dead could’ve slept harder than I did that night, and I should know. If I’d been given half a chance, I would have slept in until noon, but the universe had different plans for me, which kicked in just before dawn.

The sky turned pink before the sun came up over Green World, just the way it did back on Earth. The sea, however, was slate black—and that’s what caused the ruckus among the more alert members of our legion. About a kilometer out from the shore of the island, in every direction at once, the water started… churning.

The black water turned white, like a big crasher was coming toward the beach, but these disturbances were way too far out from shore. This ominous behavior spooked our noncom sentries, and they sounded the alarm.

The first I became aware of it was when a whooping siren began going off. As my mind and body were as well-trained as a psychologist’s pet rat, I found myself responding without thought. I sat up on my bunk and began pulling on boots before my eyes were open.

“McGill? McGill!”

A familiar female voice was talking out of my tapper. I pretty much knew who it had to be, so I mumbled my greetings in return.

“Morning, Tribune. What seems to be the trouble?”

Galina looked upset. She was, in fact, freaked out. “Look at your bloody tapper, James! Are you sleeping? Are you seriously sleeping through a predawn raid?”

“Huh?”

Blinking and squinting, I managed to use my bleary vision well enough to make out the churning water. It ringed the island in a rippling pattern.

“That’s weird…” I said.

“You don’t recognize it? Is this your pet, that thing you found out there on the bottom of the sea?”

“I don’t rightly know. I never saw it get near the surface. Although… you know, I think it did follow us up into the shallows at the end.”

“That wasn’t in your report.”

“No, probably not. It wasn’t a confirmed sighting or anything. But I am sure that this bubbling water-trick can’t be our prankster sea monster. He wasn’t big enough to encircle our entire island. Not by a longshot.”

“James, did it ever occur to you that there could be more than one of these things? That after you led it right up here to our island, it might have gone off swimming back down to monster-town? Maybe it spent the night gathering up its friends for an attack.”

“Huh…” I said, chewing that over. The truth was her idea hadn’t ever occurred to me. I’d never thought of it at all.

“You’re useless. Get your unit down to the north beach. You’re being deployed there with the rest of Graves’ cohort. Turov out.”

That was it, she was gone. She didn’t give me a chance to make kissy-faces at the screen or anything. That was Galina for you, she was all over me back on Earth between deployments, but out on an alien planet it was like she didn’t know me at all.

Yawning and stretching, I marched out of my tent and found a ring of scared-looking officers and noncoms. Most of my unit had been revived by now.

“What are we going to do, sir?” Barton asked me. “Is it that thing coming up out of the water?”

“I doubt it. Just grab your gear and head for the north beach. That goes for everyone who’s back to life by now, grab your stuff and move out!”

They all began to scramble. Within ten minutes, or fifteen tops, we were trotting for the north beach. That particular path took us right up and over the high point of our island—which was only about a hundred meters above sea level.

Still, it was enough to give us the lay of the land. Out to the east, the west—and due north—the sea was bubbling.

“It’s positively boiling out there, Centurion,” Harris said. “Wouldn’t it be better if we set up right here, on this central high ground? Leeson’s 88s could command the whole beach from here.”

“They probably could—but that’s not where we’ve been posted.”

Grumbling, Harris gave up and fell back to harangue his heavies. They were lagging behind due to their bigger loads. Even with exoskeletal help, an extra hundred kilos of gear took its toll.

Soon enough, we reached the beach in question. It was rocky, like all the beaches on this godforsaken lump of dirt we’d been stationed on. At least there was a modicum of cover to be had between the boulders.

Not being a total idiot, despite the sage opinion of countless dipshits in my legion, I lined up my troops about fifty paces from the shoreline. There was decent cover here, and we could hit anything on the beach without getting any closer to the water.

Off to my right and left, more units rolled up and set up camp. We were spaced about a hundred paces apart, just out of shouting distance. There was a stiff wind coming up from the sea, but I could see Manfred’s troops flipping us off, even if I couldn’t hear their actual insults.

“That squatty troglodyte,” Barton complained to me. “He’s always belittling our unit.”

“What? Manfred? Nah, he means well. He’s a dick, sure… but he’s a friend of mine.”

“That’s not surprising, sir.”

I glanced at her reproachfully, and she straightened up. “Sorry, sir. That was an unprofessional comment.”

Laughing, I waved for her to take her lights to the most forward boulders. She was a good sort, even if she didn’t like Manfred and his antics.

Leeson hustled up next to me a moment later. His men had been in the rear of the formation, as always. Made up of muscle-bound weaponeers with heavy kits and all the specialist nerds in the unit, his platoon was always last in line.

“Sir! I want to set up about a hundred meters back, on that rise over there.”

I squinted in the direction he indicated, but I shook my head. “Nope. Take the hill right behind us.”

“Seriously? That’s inferior ground, Centurion. If you let me take the top of that hill with my 88s, I’ll—”

“The answer is no. Manfred is already setting up on that spot. You should have walked faster if you wanted your choice of ground.”

Grumbling, he stalked off and began setting up where I’d directed him to. I knew he’d do a pro job, so I didn’t micromanage. Instead, I searched for a comfortable spot to lounge and took off my helmet to get a little sun. The local star had risen up out of the sea to the east, and it was warming up already. After having spent so long trudging over the bottom of this ocean, I was really enjoying a clean beach. The air was fresh, the wind was up, and the crashing surf was kind of mesmerizing.

I’ll never admit it, but I might have nodded off over the next ten minutes or so that followed.

“Centurion! McGill, wake up! Something’s happening!”

Someone was shaking me. I looked up to see it was Veteran Moller.

Her words didn’t worry me all that much, but the look on her face did. Moller was a big woman, and by big I mean she could arm-wrestle plenty of men on an even footing. She was built like a fireplug, and she acted like it, too.

“What’s…?” I began, but I didn’t finish my thought. Looking out to sea, I saw the bubbling region had changed. Instead of a continuous circle of bubbles, a force wall was now in evidence.

Rising up out of the water in a great arc that completely encircled the island, a shimmering dome was forming. It came up from the water itself, and it kind of looked like water.

“What the hell is that, McGill?” Harris demanded, as if I had a clue.

“I don’t know. Looks like a wall of water.”

“Water with a hard-on, maybe.”

We watched and gawked in amazement. I’ve seen puff-crete go up in an unnatural fashion, and I’d seen personal shielding and the like—but this was different. It was a translucent dome of what looked like solid water.

“Could these aliens have some kind of control over the properties of water?” asked a voice behind me.

I turned to see it was Natasha. She was fresh out of the revival machine, and she’d only just gotten down to the beach to join our little party.

“You know what that thing is?” I asked.

She was scanning it, using her larger, backpack computer. It had serious power and lots of sensors and stuff I couldn’t even identify, much less operate.

“It’s water. A solid form of water, but not ice. I think… remember, James, when I told you about hot ice? It’s reading something like that. High density, high temperature… Very solid and semi-transparent.”

“Uh…” I said, staring out to sea. “It seems to keep going up and up, and it’s curving, kind of. Do you think it will form a solid dome over us?”

“That’s what it looks like. It will likely be very difficult to penetrate.”

“You don’t say?”

Intrigued, I left cover and walked over to Sargon. After a bit of rank-pulling, I took his belcher off him, raised it to my shoulder and tightened it down to the narrowest beam I could. Then, I held the firing stud down for about three seconds.

“You’re gonna overheat it, sir!”

I ignored him. I’d been a weaponeer for years, and I knew just how far over specs you could push one of these babies. I pushed it to that point—and a little bit further.

Out at sea, my beam struck the wall of hot-ice, or whatever the hell it was, and drew a line of billowing steam across it. When I let go of the firing stud at last, however, there hadn’t been much effect.

The water-wall showed a streak where I’d burned it, as if a fingernail had scarred the surface of a bowl of gelatin. Just as soon as I stopped beaming, however, the scar melted away. After a few moments, the water-wall was as smooth as before.

“Huh…” I said. “Looks like we’re being sealed in. I wonder what their next trick will be.”

Only Natasha and I seemed intrigued and curious. Everyone else in the unit looked like they wanted to shit themselves. I thought about razzing them for being chickens, but I didn’t want to lower morale any further.

-48-

After the water-dome thingie was complete, having encapsulated us and trapped us on the island, we hunkered down and waited for whatever was coming next.

Command chat was going crazy in my headset, and it was beginning to give me a headache. Every officer on the island seemed to be freaking out.

“This is nothing,” I told them all when I couldn’t take any more whining. “You should have been down there at the bottom of the sea with one of these clowns playing fisherman with you. Now, that was scary.”

“Not helpful, Centurion McGill,” Graves complained. “This is your CO speaking, people. We need two cohorts on the beach, and one in the center with the star-falls. So far, I don’t see the center cohort in position yet.”

“Star-falls?” I said out loud, but without keying the mic. That was damned good news. I didn’t even know we had any heavy artillery on this godforsaken rock.

“The enemy dome has completely encircled the island at a range of about one to two kilometers out. You might notice that the waves have stopped crashing on the beach. This indicates the barrier goes down to the bottom, which is estimated to be five hundred meters deep or more.”

“Cool…” I said, nodding in appreciation. These aliens were serious and above all competent. I liked that in an enemy. No legion man liked to waste his time with amateurs.

Graves kept talking and issuing orders. The troop arrangements and general chatter went on and on for a good twenty minutes before I turned down the volume.

Meanwhile, out at sea, nothing much was happening. I was beginning to get bored.

Just when I considered falling asleep for a quick nap, another siren went off, and I heard a rising level of panic in the voices in my helmet. Stifling a yawn, I opened my eyes and looked out to sea again.

There, on the glassy green-black water, something truly significant had begun. The water was bubbling again—but this time it was happening in the region between the translucent dome and the beach.

How can I describe it? Things rose up. These things were big—really big. Each of them was a hulking mass of flesh that reminded me of a huge, mutant octopus. There were tentacles—lots of them—way more than the traditional eight. They started off thick at the neck area, right under that bulbous head, and I was under the impression that each of the tentacles split and subdivided, like the veins in a man’s leg. As they split off, they got thinner, until they formed a squirming mess where they finally submerged in the water.

The monsters were all over the place. They were wading toward the beach from every angle, converging on the island. As they got closer, they kept getting taller and taller, rising up out of the water as a man might appear to do as he marched up the sloping seabed.

My troops began to fire without orders. I couldn’t really blame them. The enemy was in range from the start, and there was no point in waiting around until they got in close.

“Shoot for those bulbs along the mid-level,” Harris ordered. “I think they might be eyes.”

It was as good a plan as any. The troops blazed way, but we soon realized the eye-bulbs—if that’s what they really were—had been protected. A thick film of solid water encircled them, protecting them the way a man’s goggles might protect him from a wind full of grit.

“Forget the eyes,” I shouted. “Go for different points. Probe for something sensitive—I’ll mark some options.”

Using my helmet, I marked one location on the monster at a time. The marks were virtual, and only the men in my unit could see them. The purpose was to focus our fire.

First off, I tried one of the front tentacles, a big fat one near the top of the monster, which became taller and taller as it waded toward us.

I watched with interest as thousands of rounds and bolts struck the region relentlessly. I was gratified to see the limb buck up, as if in pain, then it began to disintegrate. Soon, it was cut off and sloughed away into the ocean.

“Well done, McGill,” Leeson said. “One tentacle down and about six hundred to go, huh?”

“Get those 88s going. Heat up that thing’s hide,” I ordered. “I want two beams, working together, rolling across the monster’s midsection.”

“It’s too far out. These guns aren’t good for much at a kilometer range.”

“Just do it. We’re testing our guns. Maybe we’ll singe it and drive it away.”

I could hear Leeson grumbling about wasted circuits and missed opportunities, but I didn’t care to listen. Less than thirty seconds later, he beamed the monster across the chest, and steam rose up from its wet skin. Zooming in, I could see the skin curling and bubbling.

“Haha, we’re making seafood stew out there!” I shouted over tactical chat. It was always good to sound upbeat when commanding a scaredy-cat group. It kept them from running off or freezing up. “There’s no way that thing’s making it to our beach.”

A few of the men chuckled, but they were still nervous.

It was about then that things shifted in a welcome way. We heard a familiar crackling and hissing overhead.

The sky above us brightened, as if comets were coming down from the heavens. They weren’t comets, however, they were star-fall bolts. These glimmering streaks of energy rose and fell in slow-motion. Rather than using explosive shells, our artillery consisted of plasma spheres that released brilliant flashes of energy when they struck home.

The men cheered to see the first barrage.

“It’s about damned time!” Leeson shouted. “Wait… those fools are aiming too high!”

We all watched, and it was true. Instead of targeting the monsters directly, the star-falls struck the water-dome walls. Each of these impacts released brilliant flashes of light. We squinted and shielded our eyes, lowering protective shades inside our helmets.

“They’re trying to break us out,” Harris said. “Maybe Turov is sending down more lifters with reinforcements.”

I found this unlikely, but I didn’t want to dash anyone’s hope without a good reason. “I bet you’re right,” I lied loudly.

Our hopes were short-lived, however. The monsters were now over halfway to the beach, and they were standing pretty tall by now—as in, around a hundred meters tall. All our efforts to burn and damage these beasts had resulted in a few injuries, but they didn’t look interested in stopping. If anything, they were wading forward even faster after we hurt them.

“Uh…” Harris said, looking up and craning his neck. “McGill? Should we maybe pull back, just a bit?”

“We’ll scatter at the last minute. Everyone, focus on the tips of the smallest tentacles. Maybe they’re more sensitive than the rest.”

“Scatter? The things are only two hundred meters out!”

“Man your weapon, Harris. More shooting and less talking.”

I have to give them credit, my men stood their ground. They blazed away, even as the monster seemed to get impossibly large at the end. We’d known they were big from the start, but just how big hadn’t been clear. Their bodies were built something like a pyramid. I supposed that made sense when you thought about it. Anything that tall would take an insane amount of muscle at the bottom to support it.

Finally, the second star-fall barrage came sailing in. This time, every second monster on the beach was targeted. Crackling balls of energy rose up then fell, slamming right into them.

The effects were dramatic. Just off to our west was Manfred’s unit. The monster in front of them was blasted, catching five star-fall shots almost at once. Steam and dark blood exploded from the impact points, and huge chunks of cooking meat fell in a rain. The monster staggered, swaying from one side to the other. Then, it pitched forward.

Manfred’s unit, who had been backing away as the monster loomed close, cheered wildly at first. They thought they’d seen their doom approach, and then watched it get blown apart.

But very quickly their jubilation shifted into screams and croaks of dismay. The monster was falling—and it was falling toward them.

So great was its mass, the wave of dying flesh slapped down on top of the men. They were buried and crushed under countless tons of flailing limbs.

“Fall back!” I shouted. “Pull back by squads, maintain fire, and—”

That was as far as I got with that little speech. Not only had my troops begun to flat-out run for it, but the monster itself had changed its mode of operation.

Ever since the first moment we’d laid eyes on the thing in the clear light of day, it had moved at a significant, but relatively slow pace. It appeared to be walking up onto the beach—although it’s walking pace was about the speed which a normal man might consider to be a dead run.

I could think of a dozen good reasons for this. After all, it was about the size of a small asteroid. Maybe that was as fast as it could go.

But when our monster saw its nearest neighbor go down in a flopping heap, it decided to change its act. Firstly, it released an unearthly howl of fury. At least, that’s what it sounded like. If I hadn’t been wearing a helmet, I might have been deafened. As it was, I got an immediate case of mild tinnitus. My ears would probably ring for days, I could tell from experience.

That howl... Damn, it was loud. What’s more, it sounded pissed.

After making that single tremendous noise, the monster charged. It picked up its tentacles and came up the beach at us like a gray-green tidal wave of sushi.

My unit broke entirely at that point. There was no semblance of an orderly withdrawal. We scattered, racing off in every direction at once. Seeing as I was the commander, I didn’t run straight uphill for high ground like most of them did. Instead, I moved west, toward Manfred’s unlucky group. If anyone caught my retreat on video, I hoped to claim I’d seen a few survivors that could use some help.

Any such story would be a sheer fabrication, of course. I was spooked, and I don’t mind admitting it. There was no way in hell or high-water that we were going to bring this monster down with snap-rifles or bolts from our morph-guns. The mere idea would have been funny if I was in a laughing mood—which at the moment, I wasn’t.

-49-

In the end, it was my reluctance to embrace sheer cowardice that saved me. Taking an indirect route toward Manfred’s unit—or what was left of it—meant that most of the humans in the vicinity were going in another direction. They ran directly inland, away from the beach. The monster followed the majority—and it caught up with them, right-quick.

After shambling straight over our 88s, along with whoever wasn’t fast enough to get away from what amounted to a tidal wave of stinking burnt flesh, it squatted in the midst of my fleeing troops.

That’s when the smaller tentacles came out. They slid out of the other, bigger tentacles. It was like watching snakes vomit up smaller baby snakes. These smaller ones weren’t weak, however. They were each as thick as a big man’s leg and ten to twenty meters long. Squirming all over the place in a frenzy, they caught up with running humans and crushed them. A lucky few were lifted up to be consumed in a gulp.

This welcome distraction—the wholesale devouring of my unit—kept the monster busy while I skedaddled the hell off that beach. When I got up to higher ground, I found the star-fall crews in a near panic as well.

Jenny Mills was the centurion in charge. When I spotted her, I stood and admired her form. Even in the midst of a pitched battle, she was as pretty as these alien monsters were ugly.

Right now, however, Jenny looked like she’d seen happier days. I couldn’t say that I blamed her. The artillery unit she was commanding had turned out to be the only thing that was effective against these monsters. That naturally meant that every unit commander on the island was either demanding or pleading with her to aim at their zone of the beach.

“How’s tricks, Centurion?” I asked her.

She glanced my way and shook her head. “I don’t have time for anything, McGill. Step aside, please.”

“Of course, no problem.”

Jenny quickly ordered her battery of star-falls to switch to a new target. She zeroed a monster that was roaming up from the south side.

Looking around, I had to mark myself down as impressed. Of the forty-odd behemoths that had attacked the island, at least twenty were down. They were either vast heaps of death or flopping around injured. Several of those who’d been hit were dragging themselves toward the ocean again, retreating.

“Some of them are getting away! They’re headed back into the water!”

Jenny whirled, staring to where I was pointing. She bared her teeth but shook her head. “I can’t do anything about it. Taking down one of the monsters requires about ten direct hits with a star-fall, and we miss half the time. I have to keep nailing them, one at a time, or we’ll be overwhelmed.”

I nodded, seeing her point. I shut up and let her do her work. She was, after all, doing it right.

About half an hour later, the battle was over. We’d killed more than half of them and driven the rest away. There was some ragged cheering over this victory, but it was half-hearted at best. Most of our troops were dead.

“The soldiers on the beaches were useless,” Jenny said. “They were helpless. It was hard to watch.”

“Nonsense!” I told her. “They did their job: running interference for you and your star-falls. These monsters are tough, and they’re smart, but they don’t seem to be master strategists.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what would you have done if you were their commander? I would have ordered every one of them to charge toward the center of the island. They should have rushed your position and taken out this artillery emplacement at all costs. If they’d managed that, they could have won.”

She thought about that, and she nodded. “So, you’re saying the troops were important? To distract the enemy away from us?”

“That’s right. They weren’t cannon-fodder, they were just plain fodder. They got eaten on the front lines so you could keep your barrages coming uninterrupted.”

Jenny had to agree with me, but she turned down all my offers of companionship and a friendly drink to victory. She was too tired and shaken for any kind celebrating.

Shrugging, I headed down toward the main camps where the troops were slowly being revived one at a time. I wondered if some of them would rather have stayed dead until this choice assignment was only a distant memory.

Soon I found Graves—or rather, he found me.

“Survived the beaches, did you?” he asked.

“That’s right, Primus. Jenny took down the monster that was eating my unit. She did it just in time, too.”

Graves squinted at me. I was, of course, editing the facts to my liking. He clearly didn’t entirely believe me, but he was too tired and beaten to check up on my story, so he let it go.

“All right,” he said, sighing heavily. “Not since Barnard’s Star has any legion faced megafauna so large and vicious. Do you remember that campaign, McGill?”

“Uh… no sir. I think that one was before my time.”

“Right… right. Anyway, the kraken aren’t what concerns me the most now. I’m worried about that dome. It’s not going away.”

“Uh… did you say, kraken, sir? What’s a kraken?”

He pointed at the nearest steaming lump of meat. That big-boy was stretched out in the landing area for the lifters. It was a good thing that our lifters were back up in orbit with Dominus. If they’d been grounded here under the dome—well, they’d probably have been destroyed.

“A kraken is one of those things. A sea monster, described more or less as a giant tentacled beast from the depths. They were considered mythical, of course—until today.”

“Huh… that’s interesting. Any analysis as to what these things are?”

“I just told you, McGill. Weren’t you listening?”

“I sure was. You said they were kraken. But what are they genetically? What are these monsters related to?”

He blinked at me for a few seconds. “Are you suggesting these things are something the Clavers cooked-up? Do you happen to have inside information as to their origins?”

“Hell no. I just thought maybe we should do some xeno-analysis, that’s all.”

He viewed me suspiciously. “We’ve been doing that, of course. Seeing as your unit is pretty much wiped out, why don’t you stop pestering me and go find Natasha. She’s working on the team to do the genetic isolation.”

“Figures. Thanks, Primus.”

I tossed him a lazy salute and wandered the island. I found a tent full of nerds and walked inside. People tossed me alarmed stares, but no one challenged me. Sometimes it was nice to be a mean-looking officer. People gave you a lot less grief.

“James?” Natasha asked when I got her attention away from a microscope. “What are you doing here?”

“Primus Graves ordered me to come down and supervise the genetic tracing efforts.”

She snorted. She didn’t believe me, but she was willing to go along with my boast and show me what they’d found out so far.

“We’re only sure of one thing,” she said after several minutes of nerd-talk about nucleotides and nematodes—or something like that. “These monsters are related to Cephalopods.”

“You mean our very own space-squids?”

“That’s right. The DNA is conclusive. It’s not just due to general co-evolution, either. The match is too close for that.”

“So they didn’t simply grow here natural-like? They were brought here? What? Did they invade this world on behalf of the old Cephalopod Kingdom?”

“Maybe. Either that, or this is the real homeworld of the Cephalopods in the first place. We never did learn all there was to know about that species. Their homeworld was so badly damaged during the war… well, you’ve heard about the antimatter bombs and all, I’m sure. It’s a shameful stain that will hang over Earth forever.”

“Uh… it will?”

“Of course, James. Billions of their civilians died. It was awful.”

“Yeah… right.”

My memories of that war were quite different than Natasha’s. I’d delivered an A-bomb to the squid homeworld personally, and I’d been proud to do it. In a single stroke, Earth had won the war and put on the best fireworks show I’d ever witnessed at the same time. In fact, I still considered that bombing to be one of my proudest achievements.

Some of the details were still classified, however, and I didn’t want to give anything away about my involvement. I sensed Natasha might take it the wrong way.

“Let’s get back to this DNA link. What’s your best theory?”

She shrugged. “There are only three possibilities, really. Either these monsters were bred by the Cephalopods long ago, or they’re ancestors of some kind. A more primitive cousin, like Cro-Magnons or Neanderthals are to us. Either that… or…”

“What?”

Natasha shrugged. “I think the third possibility is the correct one. These are Cephalopods—Cephalopod males. We found their queens, remember?”

“Oh sure, they were big and nasty as hell.”

“Right, but we never found the seeding males.”

“Huh? What are you talking about, girl? Every squid I’ve ever killed was a male—I think.”

She shook her head. “They weren’t the mating type, James. They were male the way worker ants are all female. They can’t actually bear young.”

I stared at her for a few long seconds. “You mean to tell me these things are grand-daddy squids? Kings of the Cephalopods?”

“That’s right. That’s what I think. They did call themselves a kingdom, remember? But all we ever found were the queens. Maybe the kings were out here on Green World the whole time.”

Chewing that over, I had to admit it could be true. After we’d won the war with the squids, we hadn’t spent decades studying them and figuring out their history. There hadn’t been time. We’d been in trouble with the Galactics and all sorts of other aliens straight-away. These days, in fact, the Cephalopods had been replaced in everyone’s mind by enemies like Rigel.

People always tended to focus on their current enemy when they were at war, to the exclusion of all else. Unfortunately, now that we were part of the frontier club of fledgling civilizations at the fringe of the known galaxy, we never did seem to catch a break. Times of long-lasting peace were just a faded memory for Earth.

-50-

After the last monster was driven off our island, people kind of figured the dome of hot ice that encapsulated us would… I don’t know, melt?

But it didn’t. The damned thing just sat up there making the sun look all weird and wavery. In fact, it kind of got real warm inside the dome after a while. The techs said that it was a greenhouse effect. Cut off from wind and rain, the temperature under the dome kept creeping up. The ocean got all weird, too. Not only was it full of dead monster-meat, there were no more waves, either. The whole mess was turning into a crock pot destined to cook up a nasty stew.

“Hmmm…” I said the morning after. “You know, those huge bodies are already smelling bad, and they’re going to get a lot worse after a while.”

“That’s right, they will,” Carlos said. He was standing next to me on the beach like he was my date or something. I guess there wasn’t all that much for a bio to do now that the battle was over. “I think they’re pretty stinky already.”

He was right. Nothing smells worse than seafood rotting on a beach. Things like giant squids always seemed to rot real fast, too.

Turning to look at Carlos, I frowned. “Why are you wandering around out here and pestering me anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be working long shifts in some revival chamber somewhere?”

“I would have been—but they aren’t reviving anyone here anymore. They’re reviving them up on Dominus.”

“Yeah? Is that because they don’t want to waste the effort when we’re trapped under glass?”

“Partly. But it’s also because the lifters took off with a lot of our revival machines. They only left us a few down here, and the raw materials aren’t going to last. They hauled the rest of them back up to the transport when things started to get weird down here. Didn’t you notice the lifters were gone?”

“Oh… yeah. I guess they would have used their anti-personnel cannons in the battle if they’d been sitting on the sand.”

“Right,” Carlos replied. “The lifter pilots bugged out when a freaking dome started rising out of the sea. We were busy playing kamikaze on the beach, so we missed it.”

“Ah-ha. I get it. They didn’t want to chance losing valuable machines. Three thousand troops are no big deal—but a few lifters and a half-dozen revival machines? Well, that’s real value right there.”

“You said it brother. At least the legion isn’t losing her most treasured equipment. That should take the edge off the corn-holing we received from these giant aliens—at least as far as the brass is concerned.”

We walked along the shore another dozen steps before I frowned at him again. “Hold on…how come you didn’t die in that battle?”

“Uh… well… I got away. The monster didn’t go for me.”

“Yeah, sure. What you mean is you ran off early, and you didn’t turn around until you made it to safety.”

“Well… come on, McGill. Cut me a break. I’m just a bio in pajamas on any battlefield. I couldn’t do anything against that monster, and you know it.”

“Yeah, that’s true. You’re forgiven.”

After a few more steps he looked at me with an odd expression. “Wait a minute—how come you’re alive, too? Almost no one else in our whole unit made it off that beach. You know that, don’t you?”

“It’s no secret.”

“How’d you do it? Did you pick up your skirts and run screaming? I’d like to have seen that.”

The truth was, Carlos’ description was pretty accurate. I couldn’t confess like he had, however. Carlos had the biggest mouth in the unit. Not even a good killing would keep him quiet.

“I ran to help Manfred,” I lied proudly. “His unit was the next one down the beach, and the star-falls knocked out the squid attacking his troops.”

“Why help a unit with a dead monster when there’s a live one tearing up your own men?” Carlos was looking a mite suspicious. I knew I had to clamp that down right away.

I stopped walking, and my voice rose. My arms made big sweeping gestures toward the dead monsters nearby. “Because those things didn’t just die all at once. They toppled over right into Manfred’s unit, crushing people and burying them under mounds of meat. The difference was they could be helped.”

Carlos looked disgusted. He sighed. “Of course. McGill charges into danger to help, while Carlos scuttles away. I’m pretty sure that’s why you’re a centurion, and I’m still a loser bio.”

“It’s that, plus your ugly looks—and don’t forget your sheer pig-ignorance.”

“Thanks.”

We started walking again, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the topic of conversation shifted. I’d been contemplating drowning him and tampering with his tapper—but it wasn’t necessary. He’d bought my pack of lies, and his big mouth would soon become an asset when my unit was reunited. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from telling everyone I’d been rescuing Manfred’s troops instead of running for my life.

Bored, we made a seven kilometer tour, which took us halfway around the island. That’s when Graves came looking for us virtually using his officer’s tracking system.

My tapper lit up and displayed his ugly mug. “I see you and Ortiz are having a romantic stroll on the beach.”

“Not so, Primus sir. We’re reviewing the situation at the front lines.”

“There are no front lines. We’re inside a dome, and all the monsters are dead or they’ve escaped.”

Graves was correct, but I didn’t feel like letting him know that. Not yet, anyway.

“I don’t think so, Primus. Some of those monsters got away, sure. I saw them swim out to sea and disappear—but what if they’re still lurking just off shore?”

“They’re gone, McGill. We have drones and satellite lidar. We’re tracking them to the depth of a kilometer or more. They seem to be able to move through the barrier they constructed—maybe because it’s essentially compressed water anyway. The surviving enemy all swam off into the sea.”

“Huh… well, that’s good news. How do we get out of this dome? Do we have a way to switch it off or something?”

“No… not yet. We’re trapped here. I suggest you stop wasting time on the beach and try to figure it out.”

“How, sir?”

“You could take a walk down underwater again. That special railroad you found that goes to the ocean floor might go right through it.”

I stopped walking and stared out to sea. I realized he was right. “It’s worth a try. But I’m not sure what I can do out there even if I do find a way out. I mean, I’ll still be stuck on the bottom of the ocean.”

“Not so. We’ve been trying to set up some gateway posts to take us back up to the ship. This damned dome isn’t allowing it. There’s too much interference. You can’t even teleport through it.”

I whistled long and low. I hadn’t found too many things you couldn’t teleport through. “Is it that dense? Like the star-matter hull of a Skay?”

“I don’t know, but those who have tried have splatted on the dome.”

I looked up and craned my neck. I tried to spot a crushed body smeared against the dome. I didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The dome was pretty huge, after all.

“What are we going to do, Primus sir?”

“What you’re going to do is take a walk on the ocean floor. If you can walk about a kilometer down that path, it will take you out of the dome. From that point, you should be able to set up some gateway posts, and then maybe—”

I slapped my gloved paws together with enthusiasm. “Then we can march everyone left alive down there and roll them right through. What a sneaky way to escape!”

Graves looked at me seriously. “We might do that—march the troops, I mean. But really, what matters most are the star-falls. Those babies don’t come cheap, and Turov wants them back on her ship safely stashed in a stasis field.”

I blinked, absorbing his words. He was saying that marching all the men down there in a conga line to the bottom of the ocean wasn’t that important. They wanted to save expensive artillery pieces. That figured—Varus brass always thought like that.

Sucking in a breath, I nodded to Graves. “I’ll do it, sir. Just let me eat some dinner and take a crap. I’m your man after that, and I won’t disappoint.”

“No dinner. If you need more than four minutes to crap, do it in your suit. I want you marching down that path to the seabed inside of fifteen minutes.”

“You’re all heart, sir. McGill out.”

I began trotting after that, and Carlos trotted after me. Normally, he wouldn’t have been able to keep up. But when I was in armor and he was in his light spacer suit, we were evenly matched. Even so, he was huffing and puffing long before we reached the Wur building that led down to the passage under the sea.

“Why are you following me around, Specialist? Are you trying to get a date?”

“Chill, Centurion. I just don’t want to miss a possible underwater perming. I’ve never seen one done that way before. You’ll be my first.”

-51-

As it was, Carlos wasn’t the only guy waiting to send me off. As I entered the chute that went straight down to hell, a whole pack of curious techs were hanging around the place.

“What’s this?” Carlos demanded. “You ghouls! You’re all here to make vids when he dies down there, aren’t you?”

“Settle down, Specialist,” I told him. “Ladies? What’s up?”

I ended up regretting that I’d asked the question. They dressed me up with six kinds of cameras, instruments and sensors galore. I had more wires on me than a Christmas tree.

Carlos found my predicament particularly amusing. “Wow, Graves is a cold man. This is cringey. He played you so hard this time. It’s like he blames you for the destruction of his entire cohort.”

“Shut up. I’m going down there, and I’m coming back up. You just wait and see.”

“Oh, I’m waiting, sir. If you make it back up here alive, you’ll have the right to flex all you want to. I’ll even brag on your behalf.”

“That’s a kind offer, now piss-off.”

He backed away and the techs pulled open the doors. The sea was right there, lapping on the other side. I would have thought it was high tide, but I knew that we didn’t really experience tides anymore. All that kind of happy normal behavior was on the far side of the dome.

Striding with purpose, I walked into the water and kept going until it was over my head. Then, after swimming a few strokes, I was able to get to my feet again. That water did that weird pressure-shift thing, allowing me to move almost as I would normally. Since seawater between the rails was less dense, I wasn’t floating anymore.

About a thousand steps later, I couldn’t see the surface anymore. I couldn’t see much of anything other than the cold dark water all around me. It seemed like looking up was brighter than looking down—but that was about it.

Turning up my suit-lights to high, I kept walking. At a certain point, I thought I detected the dome. It was out there, a region of the sea that looked kind of… warped. It was like a sheet of clear glass in the water, hard to detect, but it was there.

Pausing, I played my lights up and down over the area. Here and there, I caught what looked like a glint from the walls.

“I’ve reached the dome,” I said into my intercom. A long monofilament wire ran from me all the way back up to the shoreline. “Do you read me?”

A stern female tech answered. I didn’t know her, and I didn’t want to. “We hear you, Centurion. Keep going. Report back if the barrier stops you from making further progress.”

I was still really needing to take a crap somewhere better than inside my suit, and my belly was starting to grumble something fierce, too.

For about half a minute, I considered walking into that wall. I didn’t know if it would kill me or save the star-falls—but either way, I didn’t want to go any deeper.

Two more steps. That was all I took, then I halted. With all the art of a mime working at a shopping mall, I reached out and began touching the water in front of me as if it was a solid surface—but there was nothing there.

“Damnation!” I exclaimed. “I found a tunnel right through the dome! Right here, the pathway cuts into the wall.”

“We’re not sensing an opening, McGill.”

“Well, I can’t help you there,” I said, poking my fingers into the region ahead of me. “I’m not a tech. I’m just a dumbass combat soldier. Do you want me to walk through it?”

“Are you sure you can proceed?”

“Absolutely,” I said with certainty.

“Standby. We’re doing a scan with the instruments you’re wearing.

I groaned aloud. “All right. I’ll just stand around here for a minute, so you can take all your measurements and whatnot.”

I heard the techs talking, and they seemed to be baffled. I couldn’t blame them for that, as this alien tech wasn’t like anything we knew about. I had to wonder if the water density changing system that had created the wall was the same technology that had put a hole in it right here.

I’d encountered this kind of thing before on other alien worlds. Nonhumans tended to be better than us at a given specialized technology. Humans were better generalists, but every civilization had their bright spots.

Back on Death World, for example, we’d met up with the finest in organic tech, courtesy of the Wur. Then there were the Dust Worlders who made great nanites—or the Edge World people known as Shadowlanders who had built the revival machines. In every case they’d developed advanced tech due to a specific need others didn’t share.

This case seemed no different. These kraken, or giant male squids, or whatever the xenos would call them in the end, needed to deal with deep water and high pressures. They’d mastered the technology, which no doubt allowed them to walk on the surface of their world or the bottom of their deep, deep sea.

After about four minutes I became bored, and I started to walk back up again. I really did need to go to the bathroom. The techs hadn’t approved of this move, but I’ve always been a man who preferred to ask for forgiveness, rather than permission.

It took them over thirty seconds to realize I was moving away from the site.

“McGill? Centurion? You haven’t been cleared to move from your position. Please return to your station. We’re not done scanning the vicinity yet.”

“What’s there to scan? I found the frigging hole in the dome, just like you wanted and that’s that.”

They complained, but I kept right on walking. Finally, someone said something that caught my attention. That was quite an achievement, because I’d already decided to ignore them.

“Centurion? There’s movement behind you.”

I paused mid-step, and I turned around. My rifle was slung, but I readied it smoothly even as I moved to face the other way.

But my action came too late. A pack of humanoids were right in my face. They’d come up from the depths, using the path I’d been on like a highway. The worst thing was I could see there were lots of them behind the first man. Hundreds of them, at least.

My gun began to chug out bolts. The first struck the leader’s foot, then leg, then belly as I brought my weapon into line. He exploded with a dark cloud of blood and gore. Overall, I’d have to say that I don’t prefer fighting in the sea over fighting on the land. You’d think that it would be cleaner, what with the water and all—but it isn’t.

The trouble is the liquid stuff turns into a kind of fog. When you shoot a normal man in an atmosphere, or in space, his guts don’t turn into a cloud of mist that clings to everything. But as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers. I was in this, and there was no easy way out.

“I’ve got humanoids in diving gear coming at me. Zillions of them!”

“What are they, Centurion? We can’t identify the enemy.”

Ignoring the question, I kept spamming bolts downrange. The approaching figures returned fire with something lighter—snap-rifles?

“They might be humans,” I said. “They’ve got snap-rifles.”

“Identify your attackers, McGill.” This last order came from a new voice. It was Graves. He must have gotten a heads-up from the techs that something big was going down. “That’s an order.”

“Uh… I’m kind of busy, sir.”

“Identify them. If you die before you report, this whole scouting mission will have been in vain.”

I could kind of see his point, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I was shuffling backwards up the slope, firing frequently into the cloud of blood. Every now and then an outstretched hand or a foot came close, but then I fired again and the man went down wriggling. Sometimes, they slipped outside the protective region of the pathway. Once they put a single foot past those shiny rails, they were crushed and killed faster than anything I could do to them.

Their snap-rifle shots were striking me all the while, but their penetrating power was vastly reduced by the water. Even low-density water was thicker than air. Inside my armor, I rocked this way and that as they dented up my chest plate. Now and then I felt a good hit and grunted, but I kept on fighting.

“McGill, damn you, stop trying so hard to survive. I order you to rip the facemask off one of those frigging troops.”

I must have killed thirty of the enemy, but they kept on coming. Sighing, I took a step downhill and drew my combat knife. My morph-rifle was about out of juice, anyway.

The next man came out of that dark cloud of gore, and he came at me with a knife of his own. Fortunately, I’m well-trained and practiced with a wide variety of weaponry. I slid past his blade and planted mine in his throat. Then, with a deft twist I sawed at his neck, and his whole head came free.

Shuffling back again, I dodged several more reaching, claw-like hands. When I was able, I looked down at the trophy in my fist.

“It’s… it’s a dogman. One of those freaks that the Claver’s cooked up. The guys who captured me when I first got here.”

“I see that. Good work. You can die now. Graves out.”

Knife-work. That’s what it was all down to now. My rifle was dry.

I tried hard to kill them all. I figured that maybe, just maybe, there was a single unit of them. About a hundred troops coming up my way.

They had several disadvantages. For one thing, I’d killed at least twenty already. For another, they were walking uphill. The last element was the most important, however: they were stuck in that sick cloud of misty gore.

I kept shuffling back, staying out of the cloud. They were forced to rush forward, blinded, coming at me one or two at a time. If it hadn’t been for the shiny railway lines at our feet, they could have flanked me and killed me easily. But as it was, their attack was channeled. They could only face me as they reached me—and I’m pretty good with a knife. To the best of my knowledge, only one man was better—Harris.

The fight was long and grim. A dogman would come up to me, take a poke, and get jocked. Sometimes, I would grab his arm and push him out past the barrier, where he was immediately crushed by the ocean. Other times, I would chop off his hand at the wrist, or fake him out with a feint at the face, and then stick him in the guts.

Sometimes they shot me. I had leaks in my suit, and some of my limbs were beginning to go numb. That was from my armor automatically shutting down compromised regions to prevent me from bleeding out.

I didn’t care. I just kept fighting them. There wasn’t anything else to do, and if you want to take down a Varus man with damn-near thirty years of experience in the legions, well sir, you’d better mean business.

In the end, I caught a glimpse of flashing lights behind me.

That was it, then. They’d somehow gotten the high ground. Maybe there was another path. Or maybe we were shallow enough that a man could safely walk through the barrier and survive.

I was pretty near exhausted, and I almost didn’t care. But that was a quitter’s attitude. I didn’t let myself go down. Graves wouldn’t have, I told myself. Not until he was dragged down and killed by this endless mob.

So, I dispatched another hapless dogman by kicking out with my size thirteen boot. I hit him in the chest and sent him into the next man, who was so freaked out by the overload of death that he gutted his friend before he recognized who was suddenly in his face.

In that single moment of confusion, I dared to turn and look upslope. How many of them were behind me? How close were they?

What I saw through my stained and scarred faceplate surprised me. A single figure approached at a jogging pace. His suit lights were bright, and they were set in a familiar pattern. The man—the shape of him. It had to be a human.

Suddenly, I knew.

“Carlos?”

“I’m coming, big guy! Look out!”

Wheeling back, I saw a pair on the hunt. They were coming in low on all fours, under the cloud of gore. These two puppies were smarter than most, and they almost got me. I was jabbed in both legs, but then Carlos showed up and helped me kill them.

He stepped in front of me then. “Go on. You did your part.”

Turning, I tried to escape up the hill. I really did. But my legs just didn’t work anymore, and my suit was running out of power.

“I can’t run,” I said.

Carlos glanced at me. “Okay. Have it your way.”

Then, we began to fight. It went on for a long time. At that point, I figured that I’d killed about a hundred dogs. Before they brought us down at last, we must have killed a hundred more.

In the end I was on my back, gasping in my suit. Carlos was standing over me like a lion protecting his kill.

He was good. Better than I’d thought he would be. I admired his economy of motion, his practiced killing strokes and jabs. He fought like it was second nature to him—and I guess it was.

I had shit my suit by then, but I didn’t even care anymore. Then I died, probably from blood loss—but at least the enemy knew they’d been in a real fight.

-52-

When I was finally revived, it was up on the starship in orbit. Dominus held a fixed position over the island where all the fighting had taken place.

Brushing aside bio-people like they were fans wanting an autograph, I stepped out of the chambers on Blue Deck and laughed. What a fight that had been! I was proud of myself, and I was proud of Carlos, too.

But my good mood quickly faded. People were running around the ship, and they were following arrows to various destinations.

“Uh-oh…” I said aloud.

I contacted Turov—or at least I attempted to. She didn’t answer at first. Finally, however, on the fourth attempt she did answer her tapper and her tiny face looked up at me from my forearm.

“McGill? What are you doing on Dominus?”

“I guess I finally died down there, Tribune.”

“Right… of course. It’s going badly on that shitty island. Do you know of any way to penetrate that dome?”

I thought about the shaft at the bottom of the sea. “Yes,” I said. “Down in the ocean there’s this—”

“Whatever. Get up to Gold Deck—now!”

Forcing my legs into a gait that was half-stagger and half-run, I did as she commanded. Less than three minutes later, I was crowding my way onto the bridge.

I was already regretting my earlier bout of honesty. I could have enjoyed a hot shower and a good meal, maybe. But noooo, I had to go and open my big mouth about finding a hole in that big glass wall.

“Tribune?” I asked. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m sorry, sirs,” said the marine that had my arm in a lock—or so he supposed. In truth, he was just sort of hanging onto me, panting and looking stressed.

“Oh, jeez!” I said. “I’m sorry boy, I didn’t see you there. Maybe I should just walk back to the entrance and let you usher me in properly.”

Turov finally noticed us. “There you are, McGill. Stop playing with the guards.” She shooed the marines away, and I stood next to the center console.

Captain Merton and Galina were bent over the main holotank, eyeing a life-like three dimensional image of the glorious island I’d been spending so much quality time on.

“The tribune says you have a way to penetrate this dome, McGill. Explain it to me.”

“Uh… hasn’t Graves or anyone told you about it?”

“We’re out of communication with the troops inside that dome. Radio, teleportation—it’s impervious to all that.”

I looked at Merton and managed to force a smile. He seemed stressed, but that might just have been due to Galina riding him so hard on his own bridge. That had to be humiliating to any captain in Earth’s fleet.

Using quick words that got to the point, I explained about the tunnel to the bottom of the sea, and how it seemed to go right through the dome.

“That’s interesting… but pretty much useless. We can’t go down there and run in troops, or send a lifter to that depth to gather survivors. Thanks McGill, you’re dismissed.”

Relieved, I did a spin on my boot heel. When getting out of duties, it was critical to remove yourself from sight, sound and mind as fast as possible.

Unfortunately, Galina looked up again from the holotank just as I was touching my cap to the irritable marines.

“Just a minute. What the hell were you doing down there? Why were you walking on the bottom of the ocean—again?”

“I… uh… I was following orders, sir. Graves sent me down to investigate. There were a whole lot of dogmen down there, see, and—”

“Dogmen? You mean those genetic freaks Claver has been breeding?”

“Yessir. The very same.”

Galina and Merton exchanged glances. She took three steps toward me. “McGill… do you realize this ship is in a state of emergency action?

“Sure does look like it.”

“Right… and did you chance to wonder why that is?”

“Well… I only just caught a revive, sir. I’m a bit behind on current events.”

“Not at all. I think you might be more ahead of the curve than you realize. The island is being overrun by those damned dogmen. We can’t talk to the men trapped down there, but we can still see what’s happening.”

“The island is overrun? How? Just Carlos and I must have killed a hundred or more.”

“Very commendable, but they aren’t coming from just the lab complex. They’re rushing in from a dozen spots on the island. Apparently, you only found one of the secret pathways down deep into the sea.”

I was totally surprised. My jaw sagged, and I gave my head a little shake. “Really? There’s more than one tunnel into the ocean?”

Galina and Merton again glanced at one another. They looked suspicious—suspicious of me. “I told you he would never confess everything at once. He admits the minimum, then makes good his escape. Notice how he’s halfway to the doors already?”

“Hold on,” I said.

Merton talked to Galina like I wasn’t there. “I don’t know. He seems as baffled as the rest of us. If he knows so much, how did he end up fighting to the death in that tube down there?”

Merton and Turov were all focused on one another, and I knew that this was the right moment to slip out—but I couldn’t do it. Curiosity got the best of me.

“Sirs? Can I ask exactly why this ship is panicking? I mean, even if we lose the island, it’s not that big of a deal, is it?”

They turned back to me. Merton put his hands behind his back and answered me sternly. “The Skay border guards have discovered us. They’re converging on our location right now, and our codes no longer seem to be working. We don’t have many hours left before we must flee this star system.”

“Oh…” I said, thinking right away of Armel’s predictions. He’d been right, we’d been drawn into his trap and fallen for every trick these rebels had waiting for us all along.

Galina frowned at me. “We need an immediate way to get those troops out of there, McGill. Either that—or the survivors are as good as permed.”

“Shit… could we just have them commit mass-suicide, or something?”

They both looked like they smelled dog shit.

Galina seemed pissed at the mere thought. “That’s against regs, and it wouldn’t look very good on anyone’s track record back at Central, now would it? Besides, we’re out of touch with them.”

That’s when I caught on. This was a losing campaign—or at least, it was a loser at this moment. Galina had learned from Deech long ago that you couldn’t get failures associated with your name if you wanted to climb ranks—and she liked rank-climbing.

They went back to wrangling over the map. I stepped up behind them, and I peeped over their shoulders. Sometimes, being as tall as a streetlight had its advantages.

“We can’t do it,” Galina said. “The brass would never be fooled. They would know we panicked and acted out of desperation.”

“Tribune Turov,” Merton said, “we are beyond the point of worrying about our reputations. The enemy is closing in, and we need a quick solution. Either that, or the people below face capture by the Skay.”

“That’s a lot of lost gear…”

“They don’t have any extremely valuable equipment left. Most of the revival machines and the three lifters are all safely aboard my ship. Surely, you can’t be fussing over a few thousand weapons and spacesuits!”

Galina faced him angrily. “I’m not fussing, Captain. I never fuss.”

Now, right there, that was a flat-out lie. I’d known Galina for decades, and I could swear on a stack of bibles as an eye-witness to at least two dozen acts of fussing—but I calculated it was a bad time to bring that up, so I stayed quiet.

“What’s your solution, then?” Merton asked her in a low tone.

Galina did some hard thinking. I didn’t like to see that. Her eyes were narrow and evil-looking. She had a devilish way about her when she was caught out in a bad situation.

Finally, she turned toward me. She did this slowly, and a smile grew on her face as she contemplated my long arms and befuddled expression.

“We’ll use McGill. He’s done this sort of thing before. Everyone will believe it.”

“Uh…” I said.

Captain Merton was eyeing me now as well, judging me. I felt like a prized pig at the fair. “Yes,” he said as if coming to a sudden, definite decision. “I’ll see that my marines stand down. You arrange the rest of it.”

So saying, he stepped away. I watched him go, frowning. I didn’t like this turn of events—mostly because I had no earthly idea what was going on.

“James…” Galina said in suddenly sweet tone. “Let’s go have a talk, shall we?”

“Uh… okay.”

I followed her like a gorilla following his mistress. The marines smirked as we left the deck, so I gave them a quick look at my middle finger.

This didn’t faze them, however. They just smiled more broadly than ever.

Galina walked me off the bridge and down the passages to her private quarters. She chased away every hog-impersonating guard we met along the way.

At last, she lingered at the doorway to her quarters. There, she turned and touched my arm.

I don’t mind telling you that I was affected. She was just as pretty as she’d been for the last twenty years or so, after her killing back on Tech World and revival as a teen. Nowadays, when she was revived she was physically around twenty-one or so, but I’m not a picky man. She was still well within her prime years.

“James, would you like to come inside and spend some private time with me?”

My eyebrows shot high. I hadn’t hoped for this kind of a direct invitation. Without hesitating an instant, I moved to walk past her.

But I found a small, skinny arm barring my path.

“Hey… I thought that was an invitation.”

“It was. But you have to do something for me, first.”

Our eyes met, and I caught on quick. “This isn’t going to be a nice thing, is it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Heaving a sigh and crossing my arms, I looked her up and down one more time. Part of me said I should have some pride. That I should just turn around and walk off. I would feel better in the morning if I did, and I knew it.

But that wasn’t so easy for a man like me.

Galina studied me and waited for my answer.

At last, I shrugged. “Exactly what needs doing?”

She smiled then, and that smile was an evil thing to behold. I’d seen her make that kind of face before, and it would have given a lesser man a chill.

She had me, and we both knew it.

What exactly needed doing was something I’d done before but never enjoyed. I had to march down to fire control, brush aside the navy pukes and man the broadsides.

This time, it wasn’t just some solo cowboy horseshit. I had two stout men at my back. They were both noncoms from other units. I didn’t know them personally, but they had that grim-faced murdering look that so many veterans had in Legion Varus.

Why couldn’t Galina just order the strike herself? That should be obvious to anyone who was paying attention. If she fired Dominus’ big guns of her own volition, well sir, that would mean it was her fault that billions of credits worth of gear was destroyed and a third of her legion was exterminated like stray dogs in the street.

Brushing aside a load of cursing ensigns, I told the veterans to grip both trigger-handles at opposite sides of the control chamber, and we rolled down the big blast shields.

Outside the ship, sixteen cannons swiveled and locked onto the dome far below. You couldn’t even see it from up here, above the clouds, but some techs had done the math and given us the numbers to punch in. It was all a done deal.

“Fire on three, gentlemen. One… Two…”

There was a scuffle in the passages outside, and I glanced back, worried that something had gone wrong with this horrid plan. Just in case it had, I picked up the pace.

“Three!” I boomed out, and the whole ship bucked.

At least, that’s what it felt like. As if the deck had stood up and saluted our chins.

One of the veterans, the man to my left, managed to bean himself on the console. He slumped down onto the deck. He got up again, moaning. These guys weren’t trained to man the cannons and ride out the tremendous kick they gave your boots when you fired them.

The man to my right fared a little better. He’d gone to one knee, but he was still in the game. He struggled back up painfully. “Sorry sir, but I think I might have cracked something.”

“Ride it out, soldier. We’re pulling out of here.”

“Not so fast, McGill.”

The veteran who was in better shape whirled and brought his weapon up. That was a mistake, of course. A marine behind Galina gave him a few rounds. Falling back against the console, he clung to it for support.

Smiling, Galina walked into the room and surveyed the scene proudly. “James, you’ve done it again. This is gross insubordination.”

“That’s right, sir. It surely is.”

Both the men who’d accompanied me looked bewildered, shocked, and a little ashamed. Who knew what stories of glory they’d been filled with? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

I was, however, a mite pissed off. Galina hadn’t said anything about rushing in and arresting us instantly. She’d obviously been waiting for me to pull this stunt, so she could pull hers right after. That just didn’t sit right with me. She was going off-script—and she’d written it.

“Gentlemen, on my command,” I said loudly.

Galina swaggered into the room, barely looking at me. She was strutting happily.

“Fire!” I shouted without warning.

The two men were on their feet now. One was dying, the other had buckling knees, but they were trained professionals. They reached out as one, gripping the twin triggers, and they yanked them for a second time.

Outside the ship, the big guns spoke again. Sixteen more fusion warheads were sent hurtling down toward Green World. There were going to be some tidal waves after this, I was sure of that much.

When I’d given the order to fire the second time, Galina and her men were taken by surprise. They all aimed guns at me—but they weren’t braced for the kick.

This time, it was worse than before. Something kind of… exploded. I found out much later that firing fusion cannons twice with less than a minute between barrages was dangerous. You were supposed to allow some time for cooling down the big barrels.

In this case, two of the sixteen guns had exploded and pretty much broken off the ship. Even I was knocked to my knees in the resulting explosion. The others in the chamber were decked—some of them knocked unconscious.

Galina did a facer herself, but she wasn’t knocked out. She climbed to her feet angrily, hissing at me.

I reached out a long arm and helped her stand. That might have been a mistake on my part, or maybe she would have shot me anyway. I doubt I’ll ever get a straight answer out of her. She’s kind of touchy sometimes.

With a smoking pistol in her hand, she bared her fine white teeth at me from above. She looked like an angel peeking out from heaven—a mean one.

“James, why did you fire the cannons twice?”

Coughing up some blood and foam, I managed to answer. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to be sure.”

She nodded, and then she lifted her pistol to my forehead. “A good policy.”

The muzzle flashed as she shot me dead.

-53-

Stuff happened while I was dead. Big stuff that I learned about later.

First off, Dominus ran from the Skay border guards after we’d blown up the island we’d been squatting on. It wasn’t a proud moment for Legion Varus, but there wasn’t much choice. Something like fifty mini-Skay were pursuing us, and although they weren’t reputed to be as cagey as their larger, older masters, we figured they were still plenty deadly. After all, a dog doesn’t have to be as smart as his master to provide the mailman with a proper biting experience.

So, we ran. We didn’t just pull a U-turn and head straight for Earth, of course. That would have been a gross error. First off, the pursuing Skay were coming from that general direction, blocking our path. Secondly, running for home would make it obvious where we’d come from and who was responsible for this intrusion into a Skay province.

Instead, we set course for the outer rim of the galaxy and left Province 926 that way. We passed right outside the Empire proper and entered the frontier, then banked and headed on a long circular route back toward Earth. It took months to get home—three of them, to be exact.

Along about halfway through the second month, Galina finally decided to revive my ass. When I came out of the oven and asked where and when I was, the answers kind of surprised me.

“Huh…” I told the incurious bio-lady. “So I’m on Dominus? And I’m not under arrest, or anything?”

“Not as far as I know, Centurion. Are you ready to walk on your own?”

“Always.” While my foggy mind organized itself, I kept thinking of Galina. “I wonder if she’s gotten over things…”

The bio-lady stamped me good to go, so I got up and went. Not twenty minutes later, I found myself timidly tapping on Galina’s cabin door.

I’d had the good sense to wash up, so I wasn’t all drippy and bleary-eyed. I’d put on a fresh uniform, and I’d even smooshed my face into a smile by the time the door finally opened.

“Hello Tribune,” I said, as if nothing had ever happened.

She nodded, and she stood aside. “Come in, McGill.”

Immediately, a swagger entered my step and my overall manner. For some reason I wasn’t hated or reviled today. A man such as myself always took such moments to heart. Deciding to go with the flow, I helped myself to her bar and downed all her snacks while she talked.

“James… this isn’t over with yet. The enemy, as it turned out, attacked Earth in our absence.”

“You don’t say?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You aren’t surprised?”

“Nope, not really. I mean, they had to have more of a plan than just hanging around at the bottom of an ocean stacking up supplies. What kind of attack did they manage to land on Earth?”

Galina avoided my gaze for a moment, then she explained. “They attacked Central City. Thousands died. It all started down at the docks… I guess they had some gateway posts and a long underwater tunnel up to the city, you see...”

“Makes sense. What’s the punchline, here? Why’d you wake me up? Just to…” I broke off, because Galina looked upset.

“There were casualties as I said. I… I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to do it. One of the people who died was your daughter.”

We looked at one another for a moment. My mouth kind of fell open, and some food and booze dribbled out. It wasn’t a pretty look, I’m sure, but I didn’t care.

“What?”

“Etta, James. She’s been killed. A lot of people at Central were killed. Apparently, the attack began when we landed on that damned island. I think our initial invasion pushed them into acting prematurely.”

She looked at me, but I didn’t say anything. I think I was in shock. She went on, talking a little faster.

“The good news is that our bombardment here worked. We stopped the attacks on the city. People are saying that we must have caused earthquakes here on Green World, mudslides down at the bottom of those pressure-tunnels where they had their secret bases. If—”

She broke off her long-winded speech at that moment because I’d stood up suddenly and grabbed her. Those pretty eyes of hers flashed with alarm. I had her by both elbows, and I gave her a little shake.

“Galina, are you telling me Etta is permed?”

“I think so. I… there were data-core losses. I’m so sorry.”

I let go of her slowly and wandered around her quarters, dazed. “But… she’s part of Hegemony. Surely, there’s a back-up somewhere. There’s got to be.”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. We’re not back to Earth yet, and don’t want to say anything definite. But the news I’ve gotten from Central isn’t good.”

“What about Central itself? Was it destroyed?”

“No. It was shielded. But the attacks came at night from the docks, and her apartment…”

I knew what she was saying. Etta had always liked to live in places that had a good view of the sea. Maybe that had been her undoing.

“We’ve got to get back home,” I said. “We have to know what happened. I have to know.”

“I understand. We’ll be there in a few weeks. There are other issues—the Galactics are sending out Nairbs. It seems like the Skay have lodged a formal complaint against us.”

Turning to her, I scowled in anger. “They were the ones who let this crappy rebel base grow in their territory! We came here to preempt attacks just like this one!”

“I know. We all know. That’s how great powers fight sometimes. They use proxies when they don’t want to resort to open warfare.”

“So, we’re the pawns of the Mogwa, and shit-heels like Armel are the servants of the Skay. Us little guys pay the price, not the big-wigs.”

“That’s generally how it always works. Think of our own history.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to think about history. I don’t care about any of that. I’m going to Earth, and I’m going to see if I can fix this. I’m leaving right now.”

She looked surprised. “How are you going to do that?”

Shrugging, I downed a drink and reached for the door handle. “I don’t know. I’ll hitch a ride down on Gray Deck. Or maybe I’ll find some gateway that won’t notice one more transmission.”

She came close, and she touched my cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry about this. I think you should think things over. Etta is already gone, she’s not suffering. Let’s talk about it, plan, and maybe make wiser moves.”

I stared down at her. “If I go down to Gray Deck and steal a teleport harness right now, would you try to stop me?”

She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Believing her, I gave her a kiss and left. She didn’t try to stop me any longer. She knew it was hopeless to do so.

“Good luck, James.”

Her door closed, and I stormed away. My mind was churning. A chance at romance had turned sour and then some. I was sick in the gut, and I knew I had to do something.

Something drastic.

-54-

Even with the tribune’s blessing, I didn’t have an easy time on Gray Deck. Partly, this was natural reluctance on the part of the techs. The other part, though, was the fact I wasn’t asking to do something that had been approved ahead of time.

“Centurion,” a nasty tech dude told me after I’d explained the situation for the third time. “I know that you’re in a hurry. I respect that, I really do. But my orders are to suit you up and ship you to Earth. This business about Dust World…”

“Okay!” I said at last, throwing my arms high and wide. He flinched a little, but he didn’t take a step back. He was braver than most little techs. “All right, send me to Earth. Let’s do this.”

They wired me up and shipped me out. We were still around a thousand lights from home, so it took a while. I arrived at old Central, coughing and gasping.

When I finally recovered, the hog guards gruffly directed me out into the passages. It was good to be on Earth, doing normal things.

Getting my long stride up to speed, I marched toward the elevators. That’s about when I felt a buzzing on my wrist—no, my forearm.

“Shit…”

It was Drusus. Of all people, why did it have to be him? With a heavy sigh, I answered the call—but I never stopped walking.

“McGill? Why are you on Earth? Something hasn’t gone wrong with the mission, has it?”

“Uh…”

Drusus was naturally having flashbacks of darker times. On several occasions in the past, I’d returned to Earth to talk him into sending reinforcements, or into making a change in leadership—but that wasn’t the story this time. I wasn’t here to pester Drusus, I was here to find a way to get Etta back.

With that in mind, I decided to dodge hard.

“Sir, there’s nothing wrong with the mission. Everything went as well as could be expected, I’d say. We stomped the rebels, and we stomped them down hard.”

“Yes, I read a few reports. Your officers were very negative about your participation at first, but after the attack on Earth came to light, they changed their tune.”

“Aw well, that’s mid-level brass for you. They jump like cats on a griddle when they think their careers might be in jeopardy.”

Drusus chuckled. That was a rare sound from him. “Well then, why are you here—it can’t be that… ah of course. Turov sent you to talk to the Mogwa delegation, didn’t she?”

“Uh…”

“That makes perfect sense. We’re having a pre-meeting right now, in fact. I’d appreciate your input. You know Governor Nox as well as anyone at this point, I’d say. In fact, you’re the only human I know of who’s been to Mogwa Prime.”

I was only a few steps from the elevators by now. I stepped aboard the nearest one, swiped my tapper, and pushed the button to send me down into the depths. I planned to go to the bottom, where Floramel and other smarty-pants types dwelled. With any luck, they might be able to help me get Etta back. At least, that was my hope.

“I see where you are…” Drusus said, speaking half to himself. “You’re going the wrong way! The meeting is up on four-ninety.”

That was lofty territory indeed. Up there, as Central was build kind of like a pyramid with a flat top, the floors were smaller than usual. The highest ranked souls dwelled there, doing unfathomably dull things all day.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “When I get down to the lobby, I’ll reverse and head back up. I’ll contact you then.”

My finger reached for my tapper. One half-second later, I’d be out of this conversation and on my way to sneak deep into the lab levels in the lower vaults.

“Not a problem,” Drusus said. “There, I fixed it.”

Suddenly, I felt the elevator lurch under my feet. Did he really…? Yes, somehow, Drusus had reached out like a god and reversed the course of my elevator. I was now trundling along rapidly back to the top of the building, rather than plunging toward the depths.

“Uh… gee thanks, sir.”

“Not at all. See you in five.”

The channel dropped, and my tapper went blank. At that point, I indulged myself in some colorful swearing. I’d been so close, but now I was being sucked into a meeting that not only sounded dull, it would most likely be a complete waste of my time.

On the way up, I stewed. Sure, I knew that Etta was already dead and she wasn’t getting any deader, but it still galled me. When your kid dies on you, a man gets a sense of urgency. It feels all wrong, and you just can’t help worrying about it.

As a result of this run-around, I was in a sour mood when the elevator finally let me out on floor four-ninety. I was greeted with disdain in the lobby by a pack of high-ranked secretaries. How could anyone with a tribune’s rank work as a personal butler to a praetor and still call himself a man? I didn’t know the answer, but maybe it was the same thing that made them snooty toward the likes of me.

After a brief hassle and a confirmation call to Drusus, they let me pass. There were plenty of disgusted looks. I stank, apparently, of the legions.

I didn’t care. I pasted on a smile and found a chair at the big table. Drusus and a load of other guys with fat guts and even bigger butts had pulled up to circle the conference display. They glanced at me with mild curiosity, but no one asked me any questions. That was just as well, as I was in a foul mood.

Drusus was the only one standing, and he directed the meeting like the pro he was. “So to begin, let’s go over the latest xenopsych report on Governor Nox.”

I tuned out a lot of prattling and nonsense. The xeno people were growing in popularity among the brass. They were proud as peacocks, dead certain that with enough psychobabble they could figure out which way Nox would jump next. I could have told them that without taking more than a few seconds to think it over. The Mogwa weren’t all that complicated, after all. They were arrogant, mean, and extremely self-centered. Nox would make every decision on the basis of her own personal comfort and advancement.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to a man of my short attention span, someone called on me. It was the fattest guy in the room, Praetor Wurtenburger. He had a heavy accent and an inflated view of himself, but I didn’t hate him.

“We have one member of this celebrated committee who we’ve heard nothing from as of yet. I suspect his reticence is due to being overawed by so many high ranking personnel. McGill? Please enlighten us with your wisdom on this issue.”

I woke up with a start. I’d been nodding off, just slightly. Worse, I had no earthly idea what the current topic of conversation was. But the truth never helped anyone, so when the adrenaline kicked in, I came up with some brisk lies and glib dodges on the instant.

“I’m sorry, sirs,” I said. “I know all this seems mighty important to everyone here, but I can’t help but think we’re missing the boat.”

They blinked at me for a moment—and it was a long moment. I was using these few seconds of confusion to come up with my follow-up sentences.

As I’m a creature of gross laziness and vile habits when it comes to meetings and committee work, I’d long ago worked out a plan of attack when I was caught-out like this. The old, less smooth McGill, would have probably drooled and said “uh…” or “um…” for a spell, but not this older version of me. Not today.

By claiming that I was thinking some unholy thoughts full of great wisdom, I was able to sidestep the actual question that had been asked and hide the fact I’d been paying zero attention to the group. This was my latest method of both avoiding boredom and looking good at the same time.

“Now, I understand that long meetings and such-like have their value and their time and place,” I continued, following another dodge, “but I don’t think that’s what we should do.”

“McGill…” Drusus interrupted. I could tell at a glance that he was suspecting me, or at least that he wanted me to get to the point. “What’s more important than an intergalactic incident between the Skay and the Mogwa—an incident in which we’re playing a critical role? Earth is front and center in this crisis.”

“Just this, sirs,” I said loudly, my voice rising as I felt an idea coming on. There was something I knew about Nox that very few others had knowledge of. It was time to play that card with all the volume and gravity I could muster. Standing up to my full height, I made a declaration. “Governor Nox has a baby. She’s a mommy, see, and it’s her greatest shame. I believe, in fact, that the former Governor Sateekas is the father.”

This created an instant stir. The xeno-psychs all but fell out of their chairs. After all, it was their job to know anything and everything about our overlords.

“Ridiculous!” complained the top nerd of the xenos. “How could you possibly know such a thing? I’ve heard about you, Centurion. You’re a fabricator. A sensationalist. A—”

I never got to hear what else I was because Drusus had waved for her to sit down. I stood tall, putting my hands on my hips, scowling and daring the rest of them with my eyes to keep calling me a liar.

“Go on, McGill,” Drusus said. “I know you had several private and nearly private moments with Governor Nox. What makes you think all this is true?”

“I saw it, and I asked her about it. She confirmed my suspicions.”

“Saw what?”

“A baby Mogwa, squirming in her pouch. I thought at first she was pregnant, but she confessed she’d already had the baby, and she indicated it was why she’d been transferred to govern one of the worst provinces in the Empire—and I’m talking about 921, our hometown. She further hinted that she’d had a relationship with Sateekas.”

“Thin evidence,” the xeno complained, but Drusus shushed her again.

“You said she confessed? So it seemed like a negative for her career?”

“That’s right, Praetor sir. She said as much.”

Drusus nodded, and he began to pace. Almost everyone there waited, because they were lower rank—but one man didn’t. Praetor Wurtenburger heaved himself up, his gut slapping the table as it went by. “Drusus, this is all very interesting, but I don’t see how it changes anything. How are we going to respond to this investigation?”

“First of all, McGill must be on hand.”

I almost groaned aloud. I’d had all kinds of fantasies about slipping out to take a piss and never coming back. After all, I’d done great work. I’d been called upon to know something, but then dodged and given them something else to chew on. That both made me look like a smart hero, and got me out of trouble in one deft stroke.

More importantly, I had to get back to reviving Etta. It was the only thing I really cared about. The rest of this… well… it was kind of boring.

“Secondly,” Drusus continued, “we’re going to have to come up with a way to play this new facet. This new tidbit of knowledge. Can we use it to gain leverage over the governor? Can we sway her judgment by whispering about it in one of her… ears?”

“I don’t see how,” began the xeno, but I’d stopped listening. I’d spied the snack trays, see, and I walked over to them and helped myself. Once my jaws were moving, I pretty much went deaf.

“—McGill? McGill!”

“Huh? Oh… sorry, Praetor, sir. I guess I got distracted.”

“Of course you did. Please, share your views with us.”

My eyes slid from Drusus to Wurtenburger, then to the disgusted-looking xeno-lady.

“Uh…” I said.

Wurtenburger had a fist pressed into his cheek. That meant he was as bored as I was. The xeno was pissed, and she was standing stiffly. That indicated she’d just said something she thought was important, but Drusus wasn’t buying whatever it was she’d said.

I quickly shaped my response based on these assumptions.

“Well sir,” I said, “I will bow to the expert in this case. I think this nice xeno-lady knows her stuff.”

The xeno looked surprised and slightly pleased, but Drusus frowned faintly.

“You really think we should create a gift for the young Mogwa?” he asked. “You really think Nox will appreciate something like a human fidget-toy?”

I blinked maybe three times as I absorbed this. The plain truth was I thought I’d just heard the dumbest idea of my very long lifetime.

“Hmm… well, maybe it would work with some modifications.”

The xeno’s faint smile slipped, drooping at the corners.

“Like what?” Drusus asked.

“The Mogwa… they don’t really play. Not ever. They don’t even understand the concept, as far as I know. I’d say that such a gift would baffle one of their kind.”

“What then?” the xeno snapped. “What do you suggest, with your vast knowledge of the topic?”

“I like your idea of a gift. A demonstration of appreciation might be appreciated in turn. But I’d say we have to give her something she’d understand—maybe a demonstration of slave-love is in order.”

They both stared at me for a few seconds, so I explained the concept. The Mogwa thought quite a lot of themselves. Frequently, they took any form of self-sacrifice on the part of a human as a demonstration of slavering loyalty and devotion. This was even true when to anyone else it would have been obvious that the person performing the act was just trying to evade a dreadful fate.

I explained this at length, and I ended with my best line. “To the Mogwa, see—it’s all about them. They’re the center of the universe, and we’re less than insects. They’d rather see a dozen planet Earths perish in nuclear fires than stub one of their numerous toes. That’s not out of malice, however—not exactly. They assume everyone else wants the same thing—even a slave race like us.”

After that, the xeno people and the officers fell to bickering. In the end, Drusus won out. He’d decided that my approach was the best one offered—although he hadn’t indicated yet how he was going to implement my idea.

After another ninety minutes of hot air filled the room, Drusus finally called for a welcome break. I snuck out and headed for the elevators immediately.

I almost made it off the floor, but it wasn’t to be. Someone passed by me in the hallway, and they recognized me.

“McGill?”

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, I turned around. It was Station Chief Dross, the lady I’d worked for briefly down at the docks. I was kind of surprised to see her, as most of the dock area had been destroyed in the attacks from Green World. Somehow, she’d escaped all that.

Despite what I would arguably call good fortune on her part, Chief Dross didn’t look all that happy. She was bewildered and freaked out, if I had to guess by her expression.

After a second of staring and gaping at her, I figured it out. She was new to visiting with the top brass of Central. She was just a civilian government stooge, after all. She was out of her element. She was tough as nails on the docks, but a mouse on floor four-ninety of the tallest building on Earth.

“Uh… Chief Dross? What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question. I thought you were a centurion from the legions.”

“I am that.”

She looked me up and down, and I could tell she didn’t believe me. I had to be the only person under the rank of primus on this floor.

“Never mind, then. Sorry to bother you, McGill.”

That was my chance, and I almost took it. I could turn and stomp away, but I felt a bit sorry for her. After all, I’d help destroy her ships, her friends and her office—all that stuff.

“Uh… Chief? You going to talk to the brass? Are you part of the briefing?”

“That’s right. I wasn’t on the docks when the attacks hit initially, but I’m still a witness. They want me to give them a briefing on the enemy and their capabilities.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, here’s a suggestion: take a pillow in there with you.”

“What?”

“That room is full of the most god-awful, dull-brained crowd of gasbags you could ever meet outside of a nightmare. Your biggest problem will be staying awake. They just brought me in there for about ten sentences, then they talked for ninety long minutes after that. I’m almost wall-eyed after the experience.”

Her lips perked up at the corners. “That’s funny… and I believe you. Thanks for the encouraging words, McGill.”

Smiling at each other, we moved to pass each other by, but Dross paused. “Hey, I heard you had a loss of your own in the attacks.”

It was my turn to look like a drowned cat. “Yes… my daughter.”

Dross nodded. “I… you know, if you know where to look here at Central, there are intel agencies that keep their own records on people.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Detailed personnel files—if you get my meaning. A smart, resourceful person might be able to get ahold of them.”

Dross turned away after that, and she left me standing in the hallway, staring after her.

Intel…? Where could I find someone who was inside the intel community?

-55-

Finally, at long last, I’d managed to evade the endless meeting. I don’t think they even noticed I was gone, as I’d already said my piece and there were plenty of people lined up for their turn to talk.

My thoughts immediately went to Etta. I can’t tell you anytime during my overlong existence that I’d felt as worried about a straightforward death. Not even when I’d killed my parents and almost couldn’t get them back—not even then was I as concerned as I was right now. My guess was I was being abused by parental instincts of some kind.

Accordingly, I rode the elevator down, down, down into the belly of Central. My mind kept churning the whole way.

Intel? Who did I know who knew jack-squat about Intel? When it comes to important connections at Central, I didn’t have many options in this area.

There was always Galina herself, of course. But she was still a month away on Dominus. Besides, I didn’t think she could help much this time. If she’d been able to help, she would have offered to do so when she first informed me about Etta’s death.

Drusus was powerful and connected, but he was real busy right now getting ready for a surprise-party full of Galactic guests. He couldn’t be bothered with one midlevel employee’s death. Thousands had died during the attacks from the docks, after all.

No, I could only think of one person who had the clout and the inclination to help me: Floramel.

When my security clearance left me stranded in the sub-basements, down around floor negative sixty, I contacted her. She was slow to answer, but she did so at last.

“James? What’s this about? Why are you even on Earth?”

“Think about it, Floramel. Think about it real hard. Why do you think I’m here?”

Her face went blank for a few seconds. She was a technical genius, but her powers of reading emotion and understanding motivations were limited. At last, her face lit up.

“Ah, this must be about Etta. I’m so sorry for your loss. My thoughts and prays go out to you.”

These last words were so practiced, so lame, that I almost got mad at her—but I managed to keep calm. Floramel wasn’t the most empathic creature that had ever walked my blue Earth. She’d been raised by squids as an enslaved scientist, and it showed in moments like this.

“That’s right, I’m talking about Etta. I need your help, girl.”

She blinked once, a slow motion eye-movement. “You mean… with the arrangements? I would think you’d consult your parents concerning that, James.”

I gritted my teeth and forced my face to smile. “They don’t even know yet—and I want to keep it that way. I intend to fix this, Floramel.”

She stared for a few more seconds, but then she looked away. She tapped at a computer screen that I couldn’t see.

“I just checked. There are no records of Etta’s body scan or her engrams in Central’s data core. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Girl… do you know what I had to go through to bring Raash back to you?”

She hesitated. “I’m grateful for your efforts in that regard, but—”

“But nothing. This isn’t some coldblooded alien girlfriend of mine. This is my daughter we’re talking about. The girl who’s served you faithfully for damned near a decade.”

Floramel blinked. “We’re talking about Etta, right?”

“Dammit girl—yes. We’re talking about Etta. I had to transport your skinny butt all the way out to Dust World to bring Raash back—then what did he do? He got depressed over having blue scales and started killing people, that’s what!”

“My memory is eidetic, James. I recall all these incidents.”

“Well then, you know that you owe me, don’t you?”

Floramel looked evasive for a moment. I could tell she was trying to work out some sort of practical or emotional appeal that would get her off this hook—but there wasn’t any.

“Yes,” she sighed, “I owe you a debt regarding Raash. But James… I don’t see any way to proceed in this instance. With Raash, you brought me back a perfect copy of his engrams. All we needed was the body.”

“Right. We can start right there. Here, inside Central, there are intel-spooks who have a copy of those files.”

Floramel looked surprised. “How would you know that?”

“A certain Station Chief told me,” I said with exaggerated confidence. Dross was a Station Chief, but she didn’t work for Central. Not directly, anyway.

“Really? That’s a startling breach of protocols, if true. I’ll have to—”

“You’ll have to what? Contact the authorities and tell them Raash is a crazy hybrid lizard who should be put down for the good of all?”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“No, but it’s what I’m about to do. Just to make sure all our ducks are in a line, here. Isn’t that what you want?”

She sighed. “All right. We’re way past rationality and protocol in this instance. How is it that these things always happen when you’re around, James?”

I laughed. “Lots of people ask that. Where do we start? To find the files, I mean.”

She thought about it, and I let her. After a moment, her eyes refocused. “We’ll start in the Vault. I’m coming to your location. I’ll escort you down.”

I waited, and she soon appeared. We walked into the elevators, and we went deep this time. Really deep. Down to floor minus five hundred and then some.

At last we arrived at the hidden Vaults with all the brains haunting them. We walked into the quiet, gurgling chamber, and Floramel sought out various dead people. We found one named Juan Pujol that was willing to talk to us.

He didn’t speak English, but to my surprise Floramel shifted right into fluent Spanish. She’d apparently learned it for fun one weekend or another.

“What’s he saying?” I hissed in her ear for about the tenth time.

“Shush, James, please.”

This went on for a good half hour until I got bored. Well… that’s not entirely true. I was bored and off wandering the Vault after less than five minutes. Some of the ghosts, or remnants, or whatever these things could be classified as, eyed me with curiosity. I found one that looked female and was easy on the eyes.

“Hey there, brain-lady. What’s up?”

It wasn’t my best conversation starter, but I managed to engage her in a lively talk about current events—but for her, current meant sometime in the 2050s, way before I was born.

It turned out she was an anti-unification rebel leader named Elizabeth. That kind of floored me. I hadn’t thought this archive had people like her lurking in it—traitors, I mean.

“Your name is James…” Elizabeth said. “I recall a man named James… I think I was married to him once.”

“Yeah? Do you miss him?”

“Not as much as I should. My memories are incomplete, you see. I mostly recall individuals from my spy network and the rebel military.”

“Uh… oh. I get it.”

“What do you get?”

What I now understood was why they’d kept old Elizabeth’s mind around for so long. She seemed to know who was a secret rebel, and who wasn’t. I frowned quietly as I contemplated this. The people who ran Central… well sir, I wanted to feel they were good sorts, but things like this kept getting in the way. It was positively diabolical to maintain part of a lady’s brain just so she could rat on people. Worse, all the people she knew about had probably died a good half a century back.

“Hey Elizabeth, what’s your fondest wish?”

“To die, of course. That’s what everyone here wants to do.”

“Uh… why?”

She laughed, and it was a haunted sound. The laugh of an unhappy ghost. “Because we’re trapped in a semi-state of life. Some of us don’t know it, or refuse to accept it, but it’s true.”

“Well, if you want to die so bad, why don’t you just off yourself?”

“We can’t, James. We don’t have any physical bodies. We’re helpless in these glass jars.”

“Oh, yeah…”

We talked for a while longer, until Floramel finally came over to me and plucked at my sleeve. “We’ve got something. Time to go.”

Floramel turned away, and I looked after her.

“Good-bye,” Elizabeth said.

Quietly, I reached around behind her tank. My hand found a lot of hoses. One yank, that’s all that it took. The fluids from Elizabeth’s tank began to piss out slowly on the floor.

“Good-bye, Elizabeth.”

Then I turned around and walked out after Floramel.

-56-

Floramel couldn’t figure out why I was in such an all-fired hurry to get out of the Vault level, and I didn’t enlighten her. Sometimes, it was best for people not to know the truth.

When I managed to get her safely up to around the minus one hundred level and switch elevators, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Floramel looked at me strangely. “You didn’t know that woman in the Vault… did you?”

“Heck no. Never met her before today.”

She nodded. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I managed to get a passcode from Pujol.”

“A passcode?”

“A way to bypass certain restrictions on our access to the datacore.”

“Oh… that’s what you were asking about down there? How’d you get that out of some ancient ghost?”

Floramel seemed distracted. She worked her tapper with fast fingers and studied the screen. “He wasn’t just anyone. One distant day, two centuries ago, he caused one country’s invasion of another country to go unchecked. His work helped bring a swift conclusion to a great war.”

“Really? You’re telling me he’s an intel man?”

“One of the best in history.”

“Huh… I guess you never can tell. Why didn’t you ask some friend of yours in Central’s regular spook patrol to help?”

“Because… I don’t know any of them—and they wouldn’t tell me anything, anyway.”

“Okay, I get it.”

Floramel wasn’t the best at making friends. To be honest, it surprised me that she’d been able to get anything useful out of a spy’s ghost. But then, maybe that wasn’t an accident. Maybe old Juan Pujol was as tired of being kept prisoner in the darkest dungeon on Earth as Elizabeth had been. Maybe he had good reasons for helping out someone who wanted to do something that broke the rules.

The second elevator took us up to the lobby. The doors swished open and four unsmiling hogs with guns were there to greet us.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from Floramel, and I got the feeling she was about to blow it. She was acting as guilty as a dog with a dead kitten in her mouth.

Grabbing her hand, I formed up a professional smile and walked her off the elevator. We crowded past the hogs, who only seemed interested in boarding the elevator in a hurry.

“Oh, James…” she said when we were clear. “I thought… never mind.”

“You thought what? Stop worrying so much, girl.”

I laughed, but I carefully noted the floor that the team of hogs was heading down to. It was minus one hundred… were they planning to switch at the landing there to keep going down? It sure as shit was a good possibility.

“Hey, I’m starved,” I told Floramel. “Let’s get out of here.”

She looked down, noticing my hand was still clasping hers. “James, I don’t know about that.”

“Come on.”

She let me lead her out of the building and into the streets. Frankly, I was kind of surprised. She’d rejected me for years, and now she even had Raash back to entertain her. Shrugging, I decided not to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

We went out, ate some good food, and drank some good beer. Floramel was still a stiff nerd, but she was runway-model pretty and more like a normal girl than ever. I supposed this was due to the simple fact she’d spent a lot of years on Earth by now.

After eating more than my fill—and polishing off half her plate as well—I asked her what was wrong. “You’ve been kind of moping tonight, girl. What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

She was clearly lying. She didn’t meet my eye, and she ran her fingers over the rim of her wine glass.

“What? Is Raash still freaking out? Can’t he get his tail straight in bed any longer?”

Floramel flicked her eyes up to meet mine, then dropped them again. “Raash isn’t on Earth any longer. There were… incidents.”

“You mean, like, he bit people and stuff like that?”

She shrugged noncommittally.

“Ah, I get it. Okay listen, how about we take a little vacation down to Georgia? I know this great place next to the Satilla River—”

“I don’t want to sleep with you in your shack, James.”

“No? Okay… well, how do we get Etta back? How do we get the files?”

“I’ve already got them. Juan told me how to log in and download what I needed from the secret archives.”

“Uh… you did that while we were in Central?”

“Yes, James. While we were riding the elevator, we went past the Intel levels. I accessed their local routers and did a quick download.”

“Cool.”

I stewed on that for a bit. “Um… Floramel? Don’t you think the computers will have noticed that breach? They’ll trace that down and all—won’t they?”

She nodded. She was back to running her finger over the top of her wine glass. I reached out, and I grabbed her elegant hand.

“Hey… are you in trouble?”

She looked up, and there were tears in her eyes. I’d hardly ever seen her cry. I felt bad and worried. If she was this upset, things were really bad.

“Did you risk everything just to help me out?”

“A debt is a debt, James. You told me this yourself. Once, you risked everything to save my people when we perished on Rogue World, remember?”

“I surely do.”

She nodded. “Consider us even, now.”

“Okay… well… say, you said you’ve got the files, right?”

“Yes. I have what there is to be found. The engrams are fairly fresh and workable, but—”

“We can’t take them to Central for a revive…” I said, thinking hard and fast. “We have to get you off-world, fast.”

“I’m going to prison, James. I’ve been imprisoned on Earth before, remember? I spent my first two years under—”

“Forget that, come on.”

I didn’t need to hear anymore. I grabbed her hand, and I dragged her out of the place, pausing only long enough to swipe my tapper over the pay nub on the table.

We left the restaurant, left Central City, and left old Earth herself behind at a trot. There was no time to lose.

“Why don’t we just go to a Gray Deck somewhere and use the gateway posts to take us to Dust World?” Floramel asked me when we hit the public spaceport.

“Because girl, those places are all government-run. They could all be watched by now. We’ve got to get away while the getting is good.”

Boarding a one-way transport out to Dust World, I paid with my savings, and we left Earth behind.

It was kind of weird, being on a civilian flight. I’d never traveled between the stars without being in the belly of a troop transport.

By my standards, the flight was nice and comfy. There was a restroom for every hundred passengers, and no one vomited or anything. The seats even had cushions. I felt like royalty.

When we reached Dust World, I avoided every official I could. Fortunately, all the customs hogs only seemed to be interested in folks going the other way. Anyone who wanted to come out and live on Dust World was welcome to stay.

Very quickly, we left the valley we arrived in and moved on to Happy Valley, which was where the Investigator lived. It was late at night by the time we’d hiked out to his caves and catacombs. The place was empty, except for a few glimmering lights.

“This place is even more frightening than the first time you brought me here,” Floramel said. “Perhaps that’s because I now fear I’ll never leave.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s see if we can get the old man to help us.”

The Investigator shushed us immediately when we spotted him. He was obviously in the midst of an experiment of some kind.

We watched quietly from behind some gurgling vats. The Investigator was stirring up some goo—and there was something floating in there. It looked like a corpse swimming in molasses.

“Uh… sir?” I dared to say.

His long crooked finger came up between us, but he didn’t look at me. “Timing is critical. I must focus. No prattling, please.”

I shut up again.

The old man had two electrical wires with exposed copper tips in his hand. One was red, the other was black. It looked like he was going to jump-start an old gas-powered tram or something.

The tank gurgled and swirled. Once, I saw a hand rise up from the soup and then slip back in.

“There it is, independent movement. The critical moment has arrived.”

He shoved the wires deep into the sludge, his arms widespread. I saw a spark, and his face registered pain. That kind of surprised me. One would have thought that he’d have put on insulated gloves, at least.

The electrical current kept going, and the old guy went rigid. His neck twisted and cranked around, like he was undergoing some kind of spastic reaction.

“Shit!” I said. “He’s electrocuting himself!”

I moved a step forward, but Floramel’s thin hands formed claws, and she tugged at my arm. It would have been nothing, of course, to rip free of her—but I looked at her instead. My mouth hung low, gaping.

“What is it?”

“There might be a method to his madness.”

I blinked. “Yeah… there usually is.”

We stepped closer, but we didn’t touch him. Slowly, over the next ninety seconds, maybe, the Investigator sagged. His body was in a rictus of pain, you could see that on his face, plain as day. My instinct was to give him a kick, dislodging him from those wires and that nasty pool of goop.

But I didn’t do it. Floramel stood with me, fascinated. Her hands were still locked on my arm. She didn’t look horrified—not exactly. She looked kind of entranced.

“I believe we’re witnessing something new. Just wait, James.”

I did, and I began to smell bad smells, the kinds of things a man stank of when his body had let go and no longer functioned.

At last, the old white-haired scientist slumped. His face touched the sludge-pool, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Satisfied now? We might have saved him. Dammit girl, he was our best hope to save Etta.” I ripped the wires from his hands, and I pushed the body aside. The Investigator was stone dead.

“Just wait. I… think we’re about to see something miraculous.”

I snorted. “It’s a dead old guy. I’ve seen lots of those.”

“James… think. How old is the Investigator?”

“Uh… I don’t rightly know.”

“How old did he look when you first met him?”

Squinting, I tried to focus on her questions, but I barely cared. I was already thinking about how I could smuggle the crazy old bastard back to Earth for an illegal revive. Floramel was wanted back home, but I probably wasn’t. If I could get him breathing again, then…

“James! Look!”

A hand had risen out of the goop. I gaped at it. The hand was long-fingered and pale as a ghost.

“Help it. Help it sit up.”

I bared all my teeth at once, but I did it. I reached into the slime and pulled. The thing in the tank sat up, but it was all floppy-like. Floramel maneuvered to the other side, and she helped, too.

“This dude better not bite me,” I complained. “Remember Raash the last time?”

“Don’t remind me of that dark day.”

We messed around and found a hose. I sprayed off the muddy man in the tank. He wasn’t looking much better. He was tall, thin, and half-dead.

“James?” Floramel asked as we worked. “Answer my question?”

“Huh?”

“How old was the Investigator? Back during the Dust World campaign?”

“I don’t know. About the same age as he is now, I’d say. Maybe a little younger. He’s never been a normal guy.”

“I know. How old is Etta, James?”

“Uh… about thirty, right?”

She nodded.

Birthdays. I wasn’t good at birthdays. Just try living and dying over and over, birthdays will probably mean a lot less to you too, as the years roll by.

“Right,” Floramel said. “So you’re telling me the Investigator looked then about the same as he does now—but that was thirty years ago.”

I blinked a few times, thinking that over. “Huh… that’s a little weird, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I think we now know why. Lift him out of the medium.”

“Uh… he is a he, isn’t he? Get him a towel or something.”

We sprayed him off, dried him with a towel… and I realized I knew who it was we’d just revived.

His face was the same as the man on the stone floor—or almost the same. He was definitely younger.

It was the Investigator, and he was breathing again.

-57-

“Your technique was poor,” the Investigator complained.

That was just like him. We’d saved his skinny ass, but here he was complaining right out of the hat.

“I would have thought,” he rasped, “that two people from the legions would be well-versed in the process of rebirth.”

“Well sir,” I said, “where I come from, we usually operate machines. This is… it’s kind of a ghetto-revive, if you know what I mean.”

He coughed and shook. We slapped him on the back, fed him water from canteens, and generally kissed his ass while he recovered. We didn’t have any fancy equipment to take medical measurements and suggest medical remedies. We just waited it out and kept him from falling over.

At last, he seemed to recover. He looked at the two of us with bleary eyes.

“It took you longer than I expected to come,” he said. “I almost had to do my entire rebirth myself. My usual assistants—they won’t come here any longer.”

Internally, I couldn’t blame them. The Investigator wasn’t only scary and more than half-insane, he was also kind of an overbearing asshole. None of these things were worth saying out loud, so I kept the thoughts inside my fairly empty brain.

“Investigator,” Floramel said when he was sipping a drink and sitting up unaided. “Sir, why did you choose this moment to recycle yourself?”

He looked at her seriously. “Because I knew you were coming. I heard of Etta’s death—and of the things you two did back at Central. Oddly, your name was omitted from the criminal records, McGill. Was this an oversight?”

The Investigator was kind of a planetary governor. It made sense that when some kind of big crime went down, he was on the feed to hear about it. Moreover, he was linked into the community of other planetary leaders. He could pass on any information he wanted to—and he wasn’t a forgiving man. The fact I was his granddaughter’s daddy wouldn’t necessarily stop him from turning me in.

“Hell no,” I said. “Floramel here just up and went crazy. She hacked into some database—I don’t even know which one—and stole files and such-like. I just found out about her crimes when she confessed a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks, James,” Floramel said quietly.

The Investigator gave me a hard look, but he nodded. “It didn’t take much deductive logic to realize you would come here next. Recently, you came here to revive a friend—why would you not attempt the same with your daughter?”

“Uh… yeah. Guilty as charged. What do you think about that idea? Reviving Etta, I mean.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s why I chose to recycle myself at this point. I wanted to be fully fit for the job. My previous body… well, it was at least a decade past its prime.”

We helped him into some clothes, and he looked a lot more like the Investigator I’d known for decades. He was, in fact, almost ageless. It was kind of weird now that I thought about it, that he’d never grown old and died out here on Dust World. Maybe that’s why he’d never wanted to leave here. If he stayed in his hot, humid little valleys he could live forever with no records to detect the illegal revives going on down here in the shadowy catacombs.

The next day, we got started on the Etta project. The Investigator was vigorous again. What’s more, he seemed quite interested in our goals.

That made me smile. These old spiders on Dust World prided themselves on not giving much of a shit about each other or the universe at large, but here the old guy was, offing himself just so he could do a better job of bringing back his granddaughter. It was enough to warm my heart toward him. He really did care—he just wasn’t too good at showing it.

The two geniuses built a first-class setup for Etta. They used a freshly-flushed tank, lots of goo that was almost sweet-smelling in comparison to the used stuff, and a dozen new hoses that still had tags on them. They’d shipped gear out from Earth to get the best.

All this made me feel overconfident, I’m sure. If Floramel and the Investigator couldn’t do a job—well sir, it was probably impossible to begin with. Etta’s existence was therefore in the best hands I could hope for.

On the third day, they got into the files, and their faces fell.

“What’s wrong?” I asked the two of them, but they didn’t meet my eye.

“The files… they’re incomplete,” the Investigator said.

“What?”

“The checksum is wrong,” Floramel added. “That means even what we’ve got is flawed.”

“That might not be true. If part of the file is missing, the checksum could be correct for the entire body of data—we just don’t have all of it.”

Floramel put her face into her hands.

“Uh…” I said, feeling a sinking, sickening sensation grow in my guts. “Guys? What do we have to do to fix this?”

Floramel turned to me slowly. She could barely meet my eyes. “I must have rushed off that elevator too fast. I should have stopped on the Intel floors and waited until the download was finished. It said it was finished, I swear that it did, but sometimes files aren’t fully synchronized when—”

“Hey! Hey, girl? Are you telling me that Etta is permed, or what?”

She shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know, James. Maybe we could go back. Maybe we could get a full scan this time.”

“No. That won’t work. They’ll have changed all the codes by this time. They might have flushed old Juan Pujol’s brain by now, too. Just to be sure.”

Floramel nodded. She looked miserable, and I felt sick.

The Investigator, however, was still poking at the files on his tapper.

“There may be another course of action open to us,” he said. “It is, after all, only the body-scan that’s damaged. Her mind is intact.”

“Oh no,” Floramel said. She looked at each of us in turn with red-rimmed eyes. “Gentlemen—Raash is so unhappy with his makeshift body. You can’t mean—”

I put out a hand, touching her lips.

“Just do it,” I said, and everyone fell quiet after that.

-58-

The next few weeks were rough on me. Using a full body-scan to print out a human using a Shadowlander revival machine—that was first class. Those fine pieces of equipment could work quickly, printing out trillions of cells in half an hour or so.

The process the Investigator had dreamed up was something different. It took weeks, it was messy, and we didn’t even have complete data to start with.

The first phase consisted of Floramel and the Investigator messing with Etta’s body-scan files. They dug out lots of other files, looking for compatible genetics. Most of every human’s DNA is identical, after all. That made the first part of the job easy. Once they’d identified which genes were missing from the file, they could simply take standardized genes and plug them into place.

The second phase was way more… iffy. They had to use the genetics they could find from me, the Investigator, and others to make educated guesses. Floramel confessed to me that some of this was more art than science.

“He’s got a repository of cells from locals, but… I don’t know if everything will work perfectly.”

“What do you mean?” I asked her. “Are you saying she’ll come out sick, or something? Maybe with a new weakness toward cancer, or with one part of her body rejecting another?”

Floramel shrugged helplessly. “This isn’t really my field of expertise. I’m more of a physicist than a medical researcher. But the Investigator is making the best choices he can from what’s available. Of that much I’m sure.”

On the seventh day, a fateful call came in. I looked at my tapper and stared in disbelief.

“What is it, James?” the Investigator asked me. That was a positive change, right there. He never called me James, always “McGill”. I guess we were growing closer after working on this project together.

“It’s Galina Turov. She’s finally tracked me down.”

We all exchanged glances. In the meantime, my arm kept buzzing and glowing red.

“Let me talk to her,” the Investigator said.

“Uh… all right. I’ve got nothing to lose. Floramel, go hide yourself or something.”

After the lanky scientist had left the room, I finally answered the call. Instead of turning the screen up toward my ugly mug, I turned it toward the Investigator.

“James, what the—oh,” Galina said, breaking off. “Who are you? How did you get McGill’s tapper?”

“I’m the Investigator, madam,” he said. “McGill is assisting me in a critical experiment. How can I help you?”

“What? James, are you there?”

I poked my head into the scene and waved. “Hiya, Tribune! What can I do for you?”

“Are you AWOL for a reason? Is that what I’m hearing, here?”

“Yessir. Remember the original reason why I left Dominus in the first place? I’m still working on that one.”

“Oh… right. I thought… never mind. I’m sorry, McGill, but you must return to Earth immediately.”

“Uh… what? Why?”

“Governor Nox is here—and she wants to talk to you.”

“Aw jeez. Can’t that wait a bit? Give her a parade on Unity Square, or something.”

Galina became stern. “Get your ass to the gateway posts and transmit yourself to Earth. I’ve already contacted the Hegemony garrison on Dust World. They’re out looking for you right now. If you don’t report very soon, you will be arrested and escorted home.”

I thought about defying her. I really did. I could claim some kind of communications foul-up, then wrap my tapper in aluminum foil—I knew all the tricks.

But I didn’t do it. After all, she was right. Etta was in for a long, long dunk in the tank, and I wasn’t mission-critical to the project. In fact, the other two would probably be happy I was out of their hair, not asking dumb questions all the time.

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

As I said my good-byes, Floramel stiffened and turned her face away when I went for a kiss. I guess she was feeling kind of cold after seeing and hearing Galina run me around.

With a shrug and a hardy farewell, I hit the ground running. I didn’t even bother to take the few belongings I’d had with me in the catacombs. Everything was full of dust and nanites, anyway.

The hogs caught up to me about halfway back to town. Fortunately it was daytime, and no one had any difficulty identifying the other.

“Centurion McGill? We’re under orders to—”

“I know, Hog. I know. Just try to keep up, because I’m running all the way to the gateway and back to Earth.”

They looked surprised, and then they looked annoyed because I meant what I’d said. I was moving fast, and they felt obliged to keep up.

Along the way, one of them huffed and read me various rights and charges—I ignored it all. You would think even a hog would know when to shut up. Here I was, racing to the exact spot they’d been ordered to drag me, and he still couldn’t let go of his regulations.

After I plunged into the public bug-zapper that connected the planet to Mother Earth, I was greeted by a fresh pack of hogs on the other side. I gave them a run for their money as well, charging along passages and such. They would have stopped me and cuffed me, but their orders did say to bring me in ASAP, and even they realized a formal arrest process would just slow things down.

At last I reached Drusus’ office and shook free of my dog pack of hogs. It was a serious relief.

“Were they chasing you, or escorting you?” Drusus asked me as I trotted in, out of breath.

“I suppose it was a little of both, sir.”

He nodded and waved me to a single chair in the middle of a circle of chairs.

“Uh…” I said. “Am I going to be burned at the stake, or something?”

“Not this time. We’ve set up the room as Nox requested. You are to be independently located, placed physically distant from all other humans during this interrogation.”

“Interrogation?”

“What’s more,” Drusus went on, “she’s demanded that all communication devices on your person be disabled.”

Here, Drusus signaled a burly hog who advanced toward my chair.

“Ah…” I said, “she must be thinking I might use my tapper to cheat. Someone should tell Nox that I generally ignore messages and advice, even when it’s good advice, but I understand her reluctance to accept our assurances. Here, I’ll just shut it down and—hey!”

I shouted and jerked my arm away from the hog, but it was too late. He’d grabbed my wrist and stabbed a combat knife into my arm. My tapper was wrecked, and the screen went blank.

He turned his fat head toward Drusus. “The job is done, Praetor. If you—”

We never heard the rest of it, because I’d stood up and helped him do a face-plant on the deck. He didn’t get up.

“McGill…” Drusus complained.

“I’m sorry sir. This man appears to have tripped or something.”

“Sit back down, Centurion.”

The hog that had rudely stabbed me was dragged away. I gave his buddies a grin and a wave, but they didn’t appreciate my brand of humor.

Galina cleared her throat and took center stage between me and the holotank. “Listen up, there’s no more time for fooling around. Governor Nox has graciously agreed to talk to you, McGill.”

Drusus leaned forward. His face was troubled and very serious. “McGill, don’t say anything damaging, please.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, sir.”

A moment later, the holotank lit up. There was a female Mogwa standing in the middle of it. She was just a projection, of course, but that didn’t make her look any less ugly.

Mogwa are unpleasant to the eye under the best of circumstances. Nox was no exception. She had six limbs, each of which ended in a hand-foot thing that could be used to walk or eat with. Her central thorax was bulbous and shiny-black like the body of a fat spider. Hanging loosely from her gut area was a pouch—and it looked empty.

“Animals,” she began, “your governess is here. It is time for adjudication.”

I looked around at Drusus and Turov, kind of hoping they’d say something—but they didn’t. If anything, they turned up the spotlight on me and made sure the cameras were all centered on poor old McGill. I felt like a sacrificial goat on an altar.

Swallowing hard, I decided that if they were going to ditch me and serve me up cold as the guilty party in every crime they could dream-up, I was damned-well going to talk for a bit.

“Hello, Governess Nox! Welcome to Earth.”

Nox eyed me coldly, but that didn’t mean squat. It was a rare thing for a Mogwa to eye a human in any other way.

“Identify yourself, creature.”

“I’m James McGill, sir. We’ve met before.”

Nox stared. “You confess? You admit that you are the one and only McGill-creature?”

“Uh… I guess so…”

“Excellent. Your capture will expedite this process.”

“Wait a second, your Highness… I’m not actually confessing to anything. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to have done.”

Nox tilted her nasty head to one side. “An appeal to idiocy? Is that the nature of your defense? Nairbs, quote the law to this beast.”

Promptly, a green blob of an alien with the general shape and behavior pattern of a trained seal slapped into the scene. He was prim, and he looked kind of excited. His pointy head was held high.

“This is a fine day for my department. We’ve been waiting for decades for justice, and now we’re—”

“Hurry up and read the charges,” Nox interrupted.

“Yes, of course. McGill-creature, you are hereby found guilty of treason, subversion, sedition and unauthorized travel. How do you plead?”

“How do I plead? You said I’ve been found guilty already.”

The Nairb rippled a little. It was his version of a shrug. “Semantics. Under Galactic Law, the defendant is guilty as charged until he proves otherwise. In this instance, I find that outcome highly unlikely.”

“Whatever. Tell me what evidence do you have against me, you snot-bag.”

Excitedly, the Nairb worked his flippers. “Excellent. Verbal assault upon a public official has been added to the expansive list. Despite the illegal nature of your request, it will be granted.”

While I stewed, he signaled for a video to be played. At first, I didn’t even recognize the dim-lit scene, but then I saw myself and Lenny walking between shipping containers.

“Oh yeah, that’s a sailor named Lenny. I didn’t catch his last name.”

“Silence, criminal. Operator, back the visual up five seconds.”

The vid backed up and began to play again from the beginning. It was incomplete—it had clearly been edited. In this version, I appeared to walk up to a shipping container, mess with the device that stole things out of it, and then when two dozen sailors came storming down to stop me, I shot at them before using the device on myself and teleporting away.

“Wait a frigging second, here,” I complained. “That’s not how it happened. Why don’t you call Lenny in here? He was an eye-witness.”

In answer, Turov leaned forward. “That sailor was permed during this incident. All the others were also permed later, when the counter-invasion from Green World began.”

I stared at her and gaped. She avoided my eye. Drusus looked uncomfortable as well.

“So that’s the deal, huh?” I asked. “Sure, let’s ship old McGill down the river. Paste every crime on top of his head, and—”

“McGill-creature,” Nox said. Her voice was loud, like the voice of a goddess. “Did you, or did you not transport yourself into Skay space without authorization?”

“I was inspecting those crates, that was my mission. Those sailors were stealing stuff. I didn’t know where it was going. It was my job to find out.”

“Irrelevant,” the Nairb chimed in. “Immaterial. Intent is meaningless. The facts are clear. This creature invaded Skay space on its own initiative, sparking a border incident between two Galactic species.”

“That much seems to be clear,” Nox agreed. “After this initial reckless act, the entire situation spun out of control. Both sides are now armed and ready for war.”

I had the gall to interrupt, and I ignored their shocked irritation. “That’s not true, sirs. The Skay minions were plotting to invade Earth from the beginning. All I did was stumble onto the scheme and uncover it.”

Nox waved for her Nairb lawyer to take over.

He worked his flippers a bit then looked up at me. “What evidence do you have to support your absurd claims, human?”

“There are plenty more vids. They’re all on my tapper, right here… oh…” I looked down, aghast. My tapper had been destroyed just moments ago. It was a bloody mess.

My next thought was to look into the cloud backups—but I didn’t bother. Nothing would be there. I knew that already. This was a setup, and the stony silence from all the other humans in the room testified to that simple fact.

“All right,” I said, “if I’m guilty of starting this conflict, then who else is going down with me?” I gave Turov and Drusus hard stares. They looked at the deck. “I was sent to that ship. I was ordered to inspect it. I was—”

The Nairb interrupted my tirade. “Your attempts to shift blame are as predictable as they are pointless, criminal. Still, the prosecution agrees. The guilt should be expanded to include the entire species. That is standard Galactic policy in these cases.”

Nox made a chopping motion with one of her numerous limbs. “We’ve looked into all of that. Normally, a situation like this might well escalate to an extinction result—but Earth has become too important in local terms. As much as I’m embarrassed to admit it, we need local governance here on the frontier. It’s much cheaper and decouples Trantor from this kind of incident.”

That sounded like typical Mogwa justice. There was the law—which was unfair to begin with—but then there was also reality. When these two came into conflict, the elite always won the coin-toss. Always.

“What’s the punishment, then? Am I to be permed? Good luck with that.”

“No. You are to be delivered as a living prisoner to the offended party. The Skay will decide your ultimate fate.”

That statement gave me a chill, I don’t mind telling you. The Skay made the Mogwa look all squishy and cuddly. They were smart machines—and machines have never known for their compassion.

There was a lot of prattling after that. Declarations, big lawyer-words and whatnot. I stopped listening, as Drusus and Turov agreed to sign me over to the Skay to do God-knew-what to my sorry body.

I used that time to think. To think hard. At last, I came up with an angle. It was slim—but it was all I had.

“Hold on! Hold on, sirs!”

“The accused shall be muzzled,” the Nairb ordered. “It’s input is no longer required.”

A couple of hogs produced a hood with mouth-clamps in it, but I squirmed. “Nox! Governor Nox! I know where your baby is right now!”

The hogs rushed in and a wrestling match began. Three broken fingers and one broken nose later, they managed to get the bag over my head. My hands were now gravity-cuffed behind me, and I was stood up like a sack of potatoes.

There were eye-holes in the bag, so I could see and hear some of what was going on. The bastard Nairb was demanding more restraints and talking about how dangerous I was. The officers who’d sold me out were standing and fidgeting with their caps and jackets. I could tell they wanted to put this whole thing behind them and walk away. Maybe they’d tip back a shot of whiskey in memory of crazy old McGill tonight—but overall, I’d say they looked relieved.

Twisting my head around, I peered up at the hologram of Nox. She alone didn’t seem agitated or anxious to leave. She was staring right back at me. I could only get one eye to the eyehole, but I pressed it up there, craning my neck and staring. They dragged me toward the exit, and doubtlessly toward Gray Deck where I would be shipped off to parts unknown—but the whole time, I maintained eye-contact with Nox.

She shifted on her throne, shuffling her limbs around uncomfortably. Several of them tried to flatten the floppy pouch that was on her belly—but they failed. Having given birth only a year or so earlier, her body hadn’t tightened up yet, I guess.

“Stop,” she said.

That single word changed everything. Everyone present ceased fussing. The humans looked up at her with a fresh jolt of fear. The Nairb looked annoyed.

But me? I looked hopeful.

“You will send the prisoner to my ship,” she said. “I will transmit him to the Skay when I see fit.”

“Governess?” the Nairb complained. “That’s not—”

“My will has been stated. Are you going to comply or not?”

The Nairb shrank down a bit. “Compliance is mandatory. I simply—”

“And I’m not interested in your opinions. Follow my command.”

That was that. I had time to see Drusus and Turov exchange confused glances. They shrugged, and then I was dragged out the door.

A few minutes later, still wearing my manacles and that hot, irritating hood, I was teleported to the Governess’ flagship.

-59-

When I got to the queen spider’s lair I was nervous, I don’t mind telling you. I knew I was on shaky ground. The Mogwa weren’t known for their compassion and generosity—quite the opposite. It might well be Nox had decided to dip me in tar and feathers before she delivered me to the Skay for outright dissection.

With my hands still clamped together, and my hood slipping around on my sweaty head, I wasn’t escorted or anything. I just appeared in an empty chamber with orangey-yellow arrows lighting up the floor.

Following the arrows, I grumbled. It was just like the Mogwa to expect a man to meekly take himself to the gallows. I didn’t even take off the hood by scraping it against a wall or anything. After all, I didn’t want to upset anyone any further—or to warn them of what I might be able to do.

When the arrows ended at a door, I politely knocked. Nothing happened, so I messed with the door. There was no knob, nothing. I hammered on it, and at last, it swished open.

Two Mogwa marines in power armor greeted me. I’d tangled with these boys a few times in the past, and an unarmed guy in chains didn’t have much of a chance. I let them take me into a side alcove where I was rudely pushed down onto my knees.

Squatting like a dog under a couch, I waited until Nox called for me. She was fussing with something on her smart-desk, so it took her a while. The whole time I was heating up, both physically and mentally. This kind of treatment of a guest was just plain wrong.

At last, Nox ordered her marines to haul me out of my hole. I stood up tall, and I was glad to note I was bigger than all of them—even her armored marines.

Nox looked me over. “The McGill creature… We meet again. This time, it is without pleasure.”

I mumbled and groaned. I was still wearing the mask the hogs had put on me down at Central.

She had her marines remove the hood and the mask—but not the chains. I stood proudly anyway.

“Good to see you again, kind Lady Nox.”

“I’m neither kind nor a lady,” she said. “If my interpreter has correctly deciphered your foul gruntings. Now, before you are dispatched for your crimes, you will solve a puzzle for me.”

“Anything I can do to help, sir.”

“What did you mean by your final statement?”

“Uh… when I said I wasn’t guilty?”

“No, imbecile! The… other matter.”

“About your kid?”

She stared at me sternly. I couldn’t read Mogwa emotions well, but I knew she looked pissed.

“That is a private matter. You’re not to go around making foul noises and sounds with your mouthparts about it.”

“I’m sorry, Governess. I truly am. But when I’m being interrogated and tortured and vivisected and all by the Skay… well… I’m probably going to talk. I’m going to talk about everything they might want to know.”

Nox paced around for about a minute. She was studying the deck and tramping with all those feet. Every now and then she tucked her floppy pouch in, but it kept slipping loose and hanging low again. I kind of figured she was embarrassed about it.

“Everyone out of the room!” she ordered suddenly.

The Nairbs and marines looked confused. Two of the marines grabbed me, and they began to drag me from the chamber.

“No! Not the McGill. Leave it here.”

“But Governess,” the Nairb prosecutor-guy complained. “This animal is dangerous. He’s an apex predator, and I can’t in good conscience—”

“Out! All of you! If he kills me, you can tear him apart and revive me.”

They all shuffled and humped out the door, and Nox and I were left alone. She regarded me the way a snake-trainer looks at a fresh-caught cobra.

“Now,” she said. “Tell me where you think my youngling is.”

“That’s pretty obvious. There’s no secret shame in it, Lady Nox. None at all. Every baby has to have a mommy and a daddy. Sometimes that daddy—well, he’ll probably want to see the kid. Right?”

She glowered at me. “You haven’t answered my question. Where do you think—?”

“Sateekas has him, of course. Your youngster is a boy, isn’t he? I bet old Sateekas wouldn’t have pulled strings to get partial custody of a baby girl. He’s old-fashioned that way.”

“How do you know all this?”

I blinked. “Well, to be honest, it’s just simple logic. I wasn’t even certain until you hauled me in here and as much as admitted everything.”

Nox paced some more. I could tell I wasn’t making her day.

“You must keep silent about this, McGill.”

“Maybe we could arrange that. I’m not a stubborn or gossipy man.”

“Incorrect. You’re both. Further, I’ve looked into arrangements such as you’ve suggested. A lobotomy should do the trick—it’s not certain, but it’s likely to succeed. However, I’m sure the Skay would notice and suspect we were hiding evidence… There’s no way to evade the thorough nature of their vivisectionists.”

“Uh… I wasn’t actually suggesting—”

“Silence. That’s what I want from you most of all. Silence. But first—how did you know Sateekas was the father? Did he tell you out of boastful pride?”

I blinked a few times. The way I figured it, if he’d been nailing Nox, I thought Sateekas probably would brag about it to a fellow like me. But that hadn’t happened, and claiming that it did wouldn’t buy me anything, so I shook my head.

“No, Lady. You told me. We talked about this before, back on the Moon. Remember?”

“I don’t recall identifying the male donor… but never mind. It doesn’t matter. The Skay can’t know of my secret shame. I don’t want Sateekas’ name attached to my offspring if it is at all possible to separate the two.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? What’s he done other than command a few fleets that got smashed?”

“His reputation is poor back at Trantor. He doesn’t belong there, and I doubt he’ll ever be allowed to return. He’s doomed to being shuffled from one remote outpost to the next—and I don’t want to share his fate due to association.”

“Ah, I get it.”

And I did get it. The Mogwa were committed homebodies. To them, their homeworld Trantor was the only planet in the galaxy worth living on. They didn’t even like to fly around commanding space fleets, much less being stuck out on the frontier in some craptastic province full of rebels. To them, that job was the lowest of the low.

Naturally, Nox was seeking a way to climb back out of her nasty assignment. Me telling the Skay about her affair with Sateekas would give them a lever over her. She couldn’t have that.

“The trouble is,” she continued, “we need to send a scapegoat to the Skay. You are very well suited to the role.”

“You’ve got the right of that. But sir, let me suggest another person to go in my stead.”

Nox eyed me. “Revenge, eh? You humans are a rough lot. You’ll turn each other in for a scrap of metal, or even electronic bank credits.”

“Uh… no sir. I just want my freedom. Do you want to hear the name? Do you want to hear about a human who has committed crimes that make my misunderstandings look small in comparison?”

Nox stopped pacing around and took a step toward me. I could tell I’d intrigued her.

“Very well. Identify this monster.”

And so, I gave her the name, and told her where she could find proof of my accusations. An hour later, she agreed to free me.

“This creature you know as Claver will be found. To reward you for your compliance, I’ll have you returned to Earth. That harness can be recharged and—”

“Sir? Could you kindly see your way to teleporting me someplace else?”

“Where?”

“Zeta Herculis, I believe that’s what it’s called on the star charts. But we call it… Dust World.”

-60-

After meeting with the Mogwa queen, or governess, or whatever you might want to call her, I went back to Dust World.

During my absence, Floramel and the Investigator hadn’t been idle. Far from it. They now had a new body for Etta. She was growing and floating in a tank.

She was a blob of meat, really, mostly lifeless but a little bit twitchy. I couldn’t see her face, or much else, because of all the slime. The general outline and shape of her looked right… but that wasn’t too much to go on.

Days passed, and I could hardly sleep some nights for worrying about her.

In the meantime, Floramel and I rekindled. That wasn’t surprising, what with me hitting on her all the time and her resistance having been weakened. Raash had left her for his home planet, and she didn’t have anyone else. We were both feeling some grief over our recent losses, too. Most important of all, she’d decided I wasn’t responsible for her previous death. All these things served to put her into a more receptive mood.

We lived in the catacombs for a few weeks while the blob that would hopefully become Etta grew bigger.

We slept real close to the exit at night. Only the Investigator felt comfortable spending all his time deep in the abandoned warrens. He didn’t care at all about the haunted stone rooms or the gurgling labs. One weird thing was I never saw him sleep—not once the whole time I was there.

At last, the big morning came. The Investigator wheeled in his battery-jumping machine, which as it turned out was the device he used for inserting mental engrams into an otherwise vegetable-like corpse. He hooked up a bunch of thick wires to our new version of Etta, and I winced as each probe, clamp and needle was put in place.

“Are you hurting her?” I asked.

“That’s an interesting question,” the Investigator replied. He paused in his work and stared down into the tank. “Her nerves are being simulated in a negative way, it’s true—but she has no mind yet with which to interpret these signals. Is that pain? I suppose the answer must be philosophical in nature.”

I didn’t like his response, but I didn’t want any more details, so I squinched up my eyes and shut the hell up.

The zapping process soon began. It went much the same way as it had gone with Raash—meaning there was a lot of thrashing around and flopping in agony. Sometimes I put my hand into the tank to calm her, but after I got a solid shock or two, I stopped doing that.

“It’s done,” the Investigator said after a good ten minutes of torturing my little girl. “She is stable. We’ll soon see if all our efforts have been in vain.”

“Get the stuff out of her nostrils and her throat,” I urged Floramel. “I’ll hold her up.”

We disconnected her from some tubes and added others. We tried to sit her up. It was like sitting up a ragdoll. We hooked up oxygen and an IV.

Several long minutes passed as we worked. During that time, she seemed comatose, barely breathing—but then she took a sudden gasping breath.

A frown crossed my features during this time. “Etta looks… different. Her face is a little off.”

Floramel didn’t meet my eye. “She’s just swollen. Give her a minute.”

“Right, right… Hey! She’s awake! Look! She’s awake!”

“I see it, James.”

Floramel and I kept working on that girl without taking a break. It took us damn near an hour to get all the tarry mud off and get her onto a gurney. She shivered a bit, despite the heat of Dust World, and so we covered her with a light blanket.

Floramel ran instruments up and down over Etta. “She’s not regulating her body temperature yet.”

I nodded, and I saw my baby girl turn her head toward me. Her lips worked, and her face… it looked kind of puffy in places. It was almost like looking at a different person. I hoped that would pass in time.

Putting my ear down close to her head, I listened closely to her first words: “…I’m going to kill you guys,” she rasped out. “I’m going to kill you all…”

I laughed.

“What did she say?”

“She’s thanking us, and she’s feeling great!” I proclaimed, and I felt a great sense of relief. She was my baby girl, all right. Etta’s first instinct had always been to kill anyone who got in her way.

Always.

* * *

Her puffy face subsided, but the differences didn’t. As the hours rolled by, I realized she wasn’t going to look the same as she had before. They’d used genes they’d pulled from random places—and it showed.

Still, the overall effect wasn’t awful. Sure, she was a bit shorter than she had been and her face was different—but she was still a human girl. What’s more, she was younger than she had been, and she was in good health. If I had to pass judgment on the changes, I’d even have to say she was a mite prettier than she had been.

What more could any woman ask for?

As a precaution, we kept all mirrors and things of a similar nature out of reach. We did this automatically. Floramel and I just exchanged glances, and we hid things, and we didn’t even talk about it.

At around dawn on the second morning, however, Etta caught on.

She’d taken a walk down to the lake. Every inhabited valley on Dust World was really a volcanic crater, and they all had lakes in the middle of them. She’d walked down to that lake, and she’d taken a good look at herself.

Snorting awake, I found my own combat knife was in my face. What’s more, it was shaking a little.

Etta’s grip was firm, but she was quivering. Her eyes were wild.

“What did you do, Daddy?” she demanded. “What did you do?”

“Hey, baby-doll! Good to see you all cleaned up and healthy. Did you sleep well?”

She pointed over her shoulder. She pointed outside the cavern, toward the lake.

“I saw myself. I’m not me. My face is wrong, I’m short—I’m not even as strong as I should be… and I’m… I’m kind of girly-looking.”

I grinned for all I was worth. “That’s right. There have been lots of improvements. Isn’t it wonderful?”

The knife edged up against my chin. A trickle of blood sprouted there.

“You should be careful with that thing. Someone might get hurt.”

She released an angry grunt, and she turned away. I sat up and gently plucked the knife from her fingers. She let me do it, and I breathed easier.

Squatting down on the dusty, carven rocks, she began to cry. That wasn’t like Etta. She almost never cried. Not even when she broke her bones.

“Look,” I said, sitting down next to her. “You’re alive. You’re in a slightly different body, sure—but you’re alive. You still have all your memories—don’t you?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, good. You were permed, honey. I had to move Heaven and Earth to get you back. You should be thankful.”

“I am. I’m just upset.”

I patted her lightly, and she let me. After another ten minutes, she was calm again—but she wasn’t entirely happy.

After that rough wake-up, we ate breakfast. I chatted and laughed—but it was all an act. Etta moped and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eye.

Something like an hour later, I heard some squawking going on in the chambers. I trotted inside the cool gloom and looked around. The Investigator was nowhere to be seen, but Floramel and Etta were in the revival chamber with the turd-tanks.

Etta had a scalpel under Floramel’s chin. Neither of these two ladies looked happy.

“You’re being irrational and disrespectful,” Floramel told the girl.

“And you’re going to be dead if you don’t tell me.”

“Ladies! Ladies!” I said, clapping my big hands so booming reports bounced off all the rocks around us. “Come on, let’s be happy on this joyous day.”

They didn’t even look at me.

“Talk,” Etta said. “Talk, or I’ll cut you.”

“I have nothing to say.”

Etta jabbed her then. Right in the chest with the scalpel.

“Oh… shit,” I said, and I raced over to them. I reached to disarm Etta, but she almost evaded me. She kicked out at my ankles, and it hurt bad—but I didn’t go down.

“I’m disgusted,” she said as I stood over her. “I should have been able to put you down, Dad.”

“Maybe.” The truth was I’d taught her quite a bit of self-defense over the years. The old Etta—the one with the bigger arms, would have definitely put the hurt on more than this one could. “You can get stronger. It’s just a matter of working out and stuff.”

Etta sat on the ground and rocked herself. “Who am I?” she asked. “Ask her, Dad. Make her tell you. Who’s genetic material is in my flesh now?”

“Uh…”

“It better not be hers. You hear me, Floramel? If you always wanted a baby, or had some other sick dream, you’re going to be sorry!”

“Honey,” I said, “calm down. Floramel didn’t inject her DNA into your cells. Did you, girl?”

Floramel was looking kind of guilty. Uh-oh.

“Tell me you didn’t do that, woman,” I said sternly. “I need to you to tell me that right now.”

Floramel shook her head. “No. It wasn’t mine.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, but Etta still wasn’t happy. She launched herself at Floramel. “Who then, you skinny bitch? Who?”

My daughter was losing it. I had to grab her and pull her off. She shook in my hands, and I don’t mind saying that my privates were crawling in fear.

But she didn’t attack me. All her sudden rage and hate was focused on Floramel.

“We didn’t use Floramel’s DNA,” said another voice.

We all turned toward the entrance. There, in the midst of the archway, the Investigator’s figure stood tall. He walked in calmly, and he looked at each of us in turn. “We had to take drastic action. There were missing parts to the strands—some of the genes wouldn’t transcribe. We took all we could from a human female standard—but I don’t have a full library, you see.”

“Who am I, then?” Etta cried. “Who?”

“Someone once came here from Earth. She had a fine mind, and she lived here for a long time. I calculated that her genetics would make a good contribution to the family tree. In the end—I made a choice. Only time will tell if it was a good one or not.”

“Grandfather,” Etta pleaded. “Just give me a name.”

“Natasha,” he said at last. “Natasha Elkin. She is now your third parent.”

-61-

Now that the old man had said it, I could see it in Etta’s face. My girl was part Natasha. Certain features, the tone of her voice… it was just a little off—and it was plain weird.

“Hah!” I boomed, clapping my big hands together. “Damn, you had us so worried. Natasha? That’s great news! She’s a genius, honey. She could have been your momma six times over anyway.”

Etta looked kind of stunned. She knew Natasha and liked her, but… to suddenly become blood-related, well, that had to be a shock.

“Let’s never tell her,” Etta said. “She’s innocent in this. I assume that she didn’t donate her genes voluntarily?”

The old man shook his head.

“All right then… I’m trying to come to grips with this. To control my emotions… Daddy, I want to go home to Earth.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Let’s get out of here.”

I nodded, and gave her a hug. She didn’t want any hugs from Floramel or her grandpa. She didn’t even want to look at them. She just wanted to leave.

Deciding that might be for the best, I took her with me. We talked to the hogs at the gateway posts in town, and after a bit of wrangling they let us through.

I knew what the trouble was, but I didn’t tell Etta. She didn’t match her ID. I think the hogs figured I was smuggling a local girl to Earth using a false tapper—but they didn’t outright accuse me of it. Probably it was my rank in Legion Varus that got them to let us slide by.

Back on Earth, Etta was sullen. She told me she wanted to go down to the labs to check up on things.

“Uh… maybe we should touch you up a bit, first,” I suggested.

She looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um, don’t you have some make-up, or something? Maybe some platform shoes would be nice.”

She looked at me in horror. She put her hands up to her new pretty, softened face. “My face… the recognition software… they’ll never let me in!”

“It’s okay, I’m sure we can reregister or something. We’ll tell everyone you got a face-job.”

Etta went into a bathroom, and she didn’t come out. After a while, I went in after her. She was staring into a mirror.

“Hey, honey. Are you okay?”

“No. I’m not me. I’m never going to be okay.”

“That’s just a bad death talking. Varus people live this way all the time. You’ll have to toughen-up girl. You used to want to be in the legions, remember?”

“Yes… and I was out of my mind. Dad… this is serious. The ID tests down low in Central go way past photographic recognition. My DNA has changed. My biometrics have changed. I won’t be allowed within a hundred floors of my own office.”

I thought about that, and I realized she was right. “Oh… so… what are we going to do?”

She thought about it for a time, and at last, she had an answer. “Let’s go back home. To Georgia. Take me home, Dad.”

So, we took the sky-train down to Georgia. I was sick over my little girl, but I talked big the whole way home. Only a practiced ear that was very accustomed to my particular brand of bullshit would have detected my true state of mind.

My folks were overjoyed to see us. I told them in a private moment that Etta had gotten into some new beauty face-sculpting, and they bought that. They were worried—but they didn’t know their granddaughter was about twenty percent stranger now.

Etta seemed to settle in nicely. Her grandparents were accepting, and everything was familiar and comforting. She turned over every mirror in the house, and we pretended not to notice.

On about the third evening, when the sun was traveling low over the swamp, I saw an aircar. The flight lights were blinking above the trees.

Aircars were still rare in Waycross, but they weren’t unknown. It wasn’t until I saw the thing bank and glide down out of the sky for a landing that I became curious.

A lone figure climbed out while I watched from behind a tree. She was small and well-built. Frowning, I let her walk up to my porch and knock on my shack door.

For the first three knocks, I didn’t move. I didn’t know how I felt. Galina and I had been through a lot together—but I wasn’t happy about being sold to the Skay.

Finally, she gave up on my shack, and she turned toward the main house.

“Are you shitting me…?” I muttered.

But it was true. She had the all-out gall to head toward my parents’ backdoor. I couldn’t believe it, having figured she’d get back in her car and leave when I didn’t come to the door.

Doubtlessly, she’d been buzzing my tapper for days, but I’d already covered it all up with aluminum foil and tape. I didn’t want any forced calls from Central. They were all total bastards, to my way of thinking.

“Hey!” I shouted, walking after her. I didn’t want her to disturb my folks, or Etta, who was not in a good state of mind. “Galina!”

She turned and stared. After a moment, she approached me slowly. “James?”

When I got close, I got even more pissed, because I saw the new rank symbols on her shoulders.

“They made you an imperator again?” I asked.

“Yes. It took a long time, didn’t it?”

We stared at each other for a few moments. Neither one of us seemed to know what to say. But anger got the better of me.

“A promotion. That was the deal, wasn’t it? The payoff for selling me to the Skay?”

“No, James. It wasn’t like that.”

She was lying. I could feel it. She wasn’t as good at lying as I was. She had some talent, but it just wasn’t at the professional level.

“Look,” she said after I glared at her for a while. “I’m very glad you managed to get home. I hope you didn’t have too bad of a time out there… wherever you went. I must ask, however… did you assassinate the governor?”

For a second, I blinked in confusion. “Did I kill Nox? No. I talked to her. I suggested options. She took one of them.”

Galina narrowed her eyes. “Care to tell me what that option might have been?”

“Nope. I don’t care to talk to you at all right now.”

“James…” she took a few seductive steps in my direction. “I apologize. For everything. You weren’t treated well. For the record, your criminal status has been revoked on Earth. I had to work hard to get that through the council—but I did it. There’s no need to thank me.”

I snorted.

She put a small hand up and rubbed my cheek with the backs of her fingers. “You’ve got days of stubble on you. Let’s go into your place and you can get cleaned up. Okay?”

I thought hard about it, and I almost went for it.

Galina was an evil woman, but we’d always had a thing for each other. Sometimes, I thought she was the love of my long and twisted life.

But then I thought of Etta, and I straightened my spine. “I’d rather you left, Galina.”

Surprised, she backed up a step. She looked kind of hurt. “All right. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you at our next deployment.”

She turned away, and she marched back in the direction of her aircar. It was in an open field, but there were trees she had to go through to get there.

I watched her go, and part of me regretted my choices. Her hips, her legs… they were moving smoothly in all the right ways.

Heaving a sigh, I turned and stepped up onto my porch again. I was going to need some beer tonight—a lot of beer. I might even have to go into Waycross for another twelve-pack.

As I reached for my screen door, however, I heard a funny sound.

Turning, I squinted, looking in every direction. I didn’t see Galina, or anyone else. But I did see her aircar. It was still squatting there in the field.

There was something else wrong, too. The birds were quiet. Dead quiet.

Walking through the wooded region toward the field, I kept swiveling my head around.

“Galina? Are you still out here pouting or something?”

I almost stepped on her. There she was, stretched out on the grass under a big oak. There was blood on her cheek, and she wasn’t moving.

-62-

“Etta!” I roared. “Etta! Come out here right now, girl!”

The wind rustled in the trees, but nothing else moved. I checked Galina’s pulse. It was there. She wasn’t dead, at least.

“She’s not dead, but this is a misdemeanor assault, daughter of mine. Show yourself!”

I heard a sound from above me. I looked up and jumped back.

Etta swung down out of the tree. She landed neatly and brushed her hands off on her pants.

“This body is weak—but it’s lighter. I can climb better than ever.”

“I’m glad you’re happy about that. What the hell did you do to Galina?”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry. She’ll probably live. That’s more than she deserves, Dad. You shouldn’t let her walk all over you.”

“Girl, that is my business. Are you really going back to your old ways? To murdering people and such-like?”

Etta looked troubled. She walked around, staring into the open fields and the shaggy trees that hung over the swamp.

“Dad… I think I have to leave. I never did belong on Earth… not entirely. Now, I’m feeling strangely invigorated. I was depressed at first, but… do you think grandpa put something else into that stew he made? Something… spicy?”

“Uh… he wouldn’t do that. I’m sure of it.” This was a flat-out lie, of course, but Etta took it in stride.

“I can’t go back to Central. Even if they did let me in again, I’d probably kill somebody within a week. I think my prefrontal cortex is smaller, weaker—maybe gone entirely. When I feel an emotion, I just act on it. I can’t help myself.”

I frowned. Etta had always been like that, but she did seem to be worse since the revive. She’d put a knife to my neck, and to Floramel’s. She’d conked Galina a good one, too.

“Where are you going to go?”

“Dust World. I’ll work with Floramel and grandpa. Three weird scientists and no rules. Who knows what we’ll come up with?”

She grinned at me, and even though it did me good to see her happy again, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat concerned as well. After all, this girl was Etta… but she also wasn’t. She was like a whole new daughter. Like Etta had a sister or something. A mean one.

“Okay,” I said. “You can go out there with my blessing. I don’t blame you a bit for wanting to leave the dungeons under Central after ten long years.”

Etta hugged me, and she clung to me for a full minute. When we parted, she headed toward the main house. My parents were going to be sad to see her go, even if she was wearing someone else’s face right now.

Working carefully, I picked Galina up and took her to my couch. She might need some medical attention, but I didn’t want to call any ambulances before Etta left. If she died on me… well, I’d talked myself out of worse things.

Like most legionnaires, I kept a basic medical kit in the house. It had nano-injectables, blood-packs and a diagnostic band. I put the band on her forehead, and it told me she had a concussion. Go figure.

The nanos seeped into her bloodstream and relieved the swelling. Around about seven in the evening, she woke up. She groaned and complained. She demanded champagne and a bucket of ice. I gave her a warm beer instead.

By eight o’clock, she’d been fed some leftovers and three more beers. She took a shower and came back out to the couch.

“You didn’t even try to climb in with me.”

“Nope.”

“Are you still angry? Even after bashing my head in?”

“Wasn’t me. We’ve got some big wombats out here in the swamps, you know.”

She snorted and slapped my arm. I ignored her and watched my tapper. I’d removed the wrapping to track Etta. She was already halfway to the sky-train station. She planned to try to make it to the gateway posts under Central. If they let her through security one more time—well, taking a step through the posts would transmit her to Dust World for free.

“I guess I’ll try to leave again,” Galina said. “As long as you can control your wombats.”

“Uh…” I said, thinking that over.

If Galina left now, someone might tell her about Etta’s exit. That was a longshot, but there was also the possibility she’d already figured out who had bashed her. All she had to do was report it, and Etta might be arrested.

“Hmm… maybe you should spend the night. Aren’t you a little intoxicated?”

She looked me up and down. “That’s how it is, huh? Your anger is gone now?”

“No, but I do feel a bit bad. You shouldn’t drive with a concussion, anyways.”

It took a while for us to reacquaint. It had been awhile, and there had been some bad blood between us. Fortunately, we’d always had a strong physical attraction to fall back on.

By midnight, Galina’s headache was gone due to the medical pack, and we were screwing like rabbits.

Afterward, I wondered about a lot of things as we rested in each other’s arms. I’d gotten a message indicating Etta had made it out to Dust World. That was good… probably.

A bootleg copy of Etta, plus Floramel and the Investigator. What would those three brains conjure up over time? Given the freedom to invent anything they felt like… the stars were the limit.

Late that night, my tapper began to vibrate. I was surprised, as I had all sorts of blockers on it. Only a few friends could get through.

Moving carefully so as not to disturb Galina, who sleeping half-on and half-off me, I checked to see who it was.

Carlos Ortiz. That’s what the caller ID said.

I winced. If answered now, I would not only wake up Galina, I would probably have to get an earful from Carlos about sleeping with her again. I shook my wrist, dismissing the call. He’d just have to wait until morning.

About a minute later, as I was dozing off, I remembered something: Carlos had said he was going to quit the legion. I’d kind of forgotten about that, what with the battles and reviving Etta and all. Feeling guilty, I quietly tried to call him back.

He didn’t answer.

Fortunately, Galina didn’t wake up—but now my mind was churning. I thought about Carlos, and about who would become the new tribune of Legion Varus, now that Galina was moving back to Central. I hoped it would be Graves, but I doubted it. The highest brass didn’t seem to want him to rise in the ranks.

Whoever it was, I hoped it wouldn’t be Winslade. The mere thought almost made me shudder.

Lastly, I wondered why I was with Galina again. She had to be the worst woman in my life—and that was saying something. Now that she was an imperator again, our relationship was technically out of regs. Not that such technicalities had ever stopped us before.

By the time I managed to start nodding off again, the old dead Skay we called the Moon had risen up to glow in the night sky. For everyone on Earth, it was kind of freaky-looking these days. We knew what it really was, and no one was happy about it. How was it that we’d all found it so romantic and enchanting just a few years ago?

Full and bright, the artificial corpse of our greatest enemy rode the night sky like an alien god. It made me hope I’d never see a living Skay again.

THE END

Thanks Reader! I hope you enjoyed GREEN WORLD the fifteenth book in the Undying Mercenaries Series. If you liked the book and want to read the story to the finish, please put up some stars and a review to support the series. Let me know what kind of world you’d like McGill to discover next!

-BVL

More SF Books by B. V. Larson:

The Undying Mercenaries Series:

Steel World

Dust World

Tech World

Machine World

Death World

Home World

Rogue World

Blood World

Dark World

Storm World

Armor World

Clone World

Glass World

Edge World

Green World

Rebel Fleet Series:

Rebel Fleet

Orion Fleet

Alpha Fleet

Earth Fleet

Star Force Series:

Swarm

Extinction

Rebellion

Conquest

Army of One (Novella)

Battle Station

Empire

Annihilation

Storm Assault

The Dead Sun

Outcast

Exile

Demon Star

Starship Pandora (Audio Drama)

The Star Runner Series:

Star Runner

Fire Fight

Visit BVLarson.com for more information.