Carlos’ grin faded. I could tell he was sweating a little. I looked down and kept my stern expression in place, imitating Graves as best I could.

  Ignoring him, I made an imaginary note on my tapper and then dismissed the troops, ordering them to stow gear and get their kits in order. We were leaving orbit in seven hours.

  Carlos drifted in my direction about three minutes later. He had a devious look on his face.

  “Uh… Centurion McGill? Can you sign my hall pass for me?”

  I glanced at him, then back at my tapper. “It’s not up to me. The primus has to decide.”

  “Graves? Oh crap. Why did they even drag me out of jail if this all might turn into dogshit at the last second?”

  I shrugged, still not looking at him. “You can ask Graves about that. You want me to call him?”

  “Fuck, no.”

  I turned to Leeson and Moller, and we did a bit of routine cross-chat for a few minutes. I could tell by their frequent glances past me that Carlos hadn’t left yet. He was standing around awkwardly. He had no assigned bunk, no gear—nothing. He was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and gravity-cuffs. Even his shoes looked like they were paper.

  “Hey man,” he whispered to me when the others had left. “Why are you leaning on me so hard? I died for you, and I did it while implementing your crazy plan to kill those Tau. They were threatening your family, and I died in that aircar to save your people.”

  I looked at him seriously. “Carlos, has it occurred to you that they would never have been threatened in the first place if you hadn’t gone batshit with illegal coins?”

  “Well… um… yeah. But we’re still a team, man. Take off my cuffs at least.”

  “Nope. You’re going to have to suffer for a while. Maybe some of the others will start feeling sorry for you. If they ask me to lighten up—I might relent.”

  Carlos studied my face for a second, then his eyes lit up. “I got it. I got the angle. I’m down with it, McGill.”

  He walked off and started chatting up whoever would listen. Most members of the unit avoided him—but not all. I marveled at his skills. If anyone could weasel out of a serious crime, he could.

  Next on my agenda was Adjunct Barton. I walked to her private quarters and tapped on the door.

  She didn’t open it for about fifteen seconds, and I was just starting to hammer on the thin tin door when it was yanked open.

  “Oh… Centurion? What’s wrong?”

  I studied her face. Now, I’m nine kinds of stupid when it comes to reading women’s expressions, but I could spot redness and streaks from tears as well as the next guy.

  “Uh… I’m sorry. I’ll come back later when you’re settled in.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just a little upset.”

  I could have ditched it all right there. I could have nodded and started chatting our way through her squad organizations. We’d made some changes, and I wanted to make sure she was good with that—but I didn’t do any of that.

  Instead, I looked at her for a moment in concern.

  “What happened on the Moon?”

  She sighed and signaled for me to come into her quarters. We’d gotten an upgrade recently and every officer had their own private tomb-like chamber to sleep in. The space was limited, being more closet-sized than bedroom-sized—but for a ground-pounder on a warship, it was first-rate.

  “I’m sorry, Centurion,” she said. “It’s just a personal thing. I—it was a bad time to get a legion summons.”

  “Uh… were you like… getting engaged or something?”

  She shrugged and studied the deck.

  So she had been getting engaged. My guess wasn’t hard to make, as the Moon was a favorite place to pop the question across our solar system. People did it every year.

  Lately, of course, with all the destruction of the crater hotels and the new fear of the Moon as a Skay corpse, business had died down. People were still doing it, but they were either diehards or cheapskates.

  “Aw now, I’m sorry about that. So, what’s the news? Do you have a ring or not?”

  She shook her head. “No. We were talking about it, but the summons came in—and I had to leave him up there alone. He’ll probably marry one of the hotel staffers instead.”

  Erin seemed despondent, and I understood. It was just the kind of thing that made life impossible as a legionnaire. You couldn’t live a normal life with kids and spouses—not for long. You had to make a choice. Either you served a few hard years and got out, hoping to live a normal life, or you stuck with it for as long as you could and took your chances.

  The scary thing about quitting was the whole part about aging and dying naturally. Believe it or not, staying young for decades can quickly become a habit. You watched others around you fade away, but you were still vigorous. As time crawled by, you became more and more fearful of the natural course of life. So in a sense, you sacrificed it.

  But it wasn’t all love and biscuits, let me tell you. Legionnaires paid a dear price for near-immortality. Don’t ever doubt it. We were like ghosts in a way, living out our routines forever. At least it was never dull.

  “You could bail out, you know,” I said.

  Erin finally looked up at me. “Resign my commission?”

  I nodded.

  “I—I don’t think I can do that. Not yet. I worked so hard, for so many years… it’s my life. I don’t know anything else. What am I supposed to do back home? Become a barkeep and compete with the robots for tips?”

  I smiled. “I’ll come give you a big one, if you ever make that choice.”

  “Just look at Carlos,” she said, and I realized she wasn’t listening to me. “They dragged him back in here—right out of prison. Can any of us quit? I mean, if they really want us—we’re trapped, aren’t we?”

  “Uh…”

  Her questions had gotten big—bigger than the tiny chamber we were in, but fortunately my tapper came to the rescue. It started buzzing with a priority code, and Adjunct Barton’s tapper joined in a moment later.

  I patted Erin’s shoulder awkwardly. “We’re leaving orbit and going into warp. We’ll talk about this again sometime.”

  “Sure.”

  An hour later, the big starship thrummed to life and enclosed us all in a gigantic soap-bubble of warped space. The Alcubierre field stretched out space in front of us, and we were sucked into the void at incredible speeds.

  Soon, the Earth was only a pinpoint in the rearview mirror.

  -20-

  The very next day there was a surprise inspection. At least, that’s what I thought it was at first.

  Tribune Foam came to our module in person. Behind him, he had Primus Fike in tow.

  Fike didn’t look happy. Not happy at all. In fact, he looked the opposite of happy.

  “Uh…” I said, not quite sure what to make of the two of them. “Welcome to 3rd Unit, sirs. To what do I owe this honor?”

  “You are an enigma, Centurion McGill,” Foam said.

  “Not that I’m arguing the point, but could you give me a bigger hint? What’s confusing you about me, sir?”

  Foam studied me for a moment. “You and I fought together on Edge World. On that day, I served as your exec. You performed beyond your rank, and I was impressed.”

  “Oh… that’s very kind of you to remember, Tribune Foam. I was impressed by you as well.”

  “That matches my recollection. However, when I was announced as the new commander of your legion, I was insulted by you. The very same man who praised me on the battlefield. Today, I’m here to demand an explanation.”

  This was just like a squid. They were wimpy when you had the upper hand on them, but the minute the tables were reversed, they became high-and-mighty in a hurry.

  “Well sir, it wasn’t because I doubt your abilities. It was a matter of justice. You see, we have senior officers in Legion Varus who’ve been serving with this outfit since before you were just one more egg in a squirt of jelly, waiting for your papa to do his business. I felt that others deserved this promotion more than you did.”

  Foam squirmed his tentacles a little. “Your words are hurtful, but they are at least direct. So challenging. So disregarding of authority... Ruling over humans will be difficult.”

  “Yes, sir. I can tell you from long experience we’re an unruly bunch.”

  All this time, Fike didn’t say a damned thing. He studied the deck, only glancing up at me now and then. He seemed humiliated as well as pissed. I wondered what his problem was, other than being forced to accompany Foam.

  Foam pointed a tentacle in my direction. I didn’t flinch, even though it was drippy and disgusting.

  “You’re talking about Graves, aren’t you?” he asked me. “That one is a mystery to me as well. He is senior. He is competent. He’s also been passed over for promotion before. Fike here wants to know why, and so do I.”

  My eyes shot toward Fike, but he was staring at his boots again. So that was it. Maybe there had been a showdown, and Fike had admitted he wanted Graves in the top slot. Now, Foam was towing him around. Maybe he meant to clean-house.

  Standing tall, I stared at the squid. “That’s right. Graves does deserve the job. But he’ll never get it. You can stop worrying about him being your rival.”

  They were both looking at me now.

  “Explain yourself, Centurion.”

  “Well sirs, Primus Graves… he has some black marks on his record. Things that happened many, many years ago still haunt him. The top dogs in Hegemony will never forget, and they’ll never give him a legion of his own. Graves is not your rival, Foam.”

  The squid lowered his accusatory tentacle. “I believe you. People have said you are a Prince of Lies, but I do not accept this. Every interaction we’ve had has been full of truth. In some ways, you are more honest than most humans.”

  “Huh… that’s probably true. If I feel something strongly, I tend to speak the truth.”

  “Very well. You will continue in your role as centurion of 3rd Unit, 3rd Cohort. Fike? Cancel the dismemberment and execution.”

  Foam turned away and slithered out into the passages. Fike moved to follow him like a whipped puppy.

  I grabbed his arm. “Hey, Fike? What the hell, man? You told him about Graves? About me? That’s not cool, Primus.”

  Fike snorted. “That’s nothing. Foam has ideas of his own. Harsh ideas. He plans to decimate some units.”

  “Decimate? You mean like—random lottery killings?”

  “Yes. He’s revived the oldest punishment in the legions. Now, piss off, and be glad you handled yourself so well. I figured you would.”

  Fike hurried away after his master.

  What a change a day made. The man had been plotting mutiny and assassination when Foam was appointed. Now he was a butt-boy and worse.

  I shuddered—horrified at the idea of having to spend my days kissing-up to a squid. I’d rather have my entire unit go through decimation. It might do them some good.

  Turning back to my module, I saw a half-dozen pairs of eyes watching me. Sure, they were pretending to check lockers and inspect gear—but they were faking it. They were all watching, curious as to what had just transpired.

  I decided I wasn’t interested in their curious natures. They could work it out for themselves.

  About an hour later, Fike reappeared. He was carrying a heavy burden. It was a sack so large it made him lean forward with the item stretched over his broad back.

  “Hey Primus, what you got there?” I asked him.

  “A gift. From Tribune Foam.”

  He didn’t sound happy about it, but he did get my curiosity up. He let the heavy sack down, sliding it off his back with a noisy grunt. He then lifted his tapper and waved it in my direction.

  “You have to sign for delivery, Centurion.”

  “Delivery of what?”

  “Your damned present. You want it or not?”

  “Uh… sure.”

  I signed, and he kicked the sack in my direction. It didn’t move much. Curious, I began to tug at the cords that cinched it up at the top. They were so tight, I couldn’t get a finger in.

  “What the hell… who tied these knots?”

  “Foam himself did it. Can’t get the sack open, huh? Too bad. Just don’t wreck it, or you’ll be toast with the quartermaster.”

  So saying, Fike turned to go. The moment his back was turned, I whipped out my combat knife and slashed the bag open.

  That’s when I saw it. Really, I should have figured it out right off. The weight was right, as was the shape and the overall mass…

  “My armor! Damnation! This is the finest gift I’ve received all year!”

  Fike threw me the bird over his shoulder as he headed out into the passages.

  I dropped the sack and hurried after him. “Hey, Fike. Wait up.”

  He didn’t stop, but he did slow down.

  “What’s the deal, man?” I asked him when I caught up. “Are you really playing cabin-boy to that squid?”

  “That’s exactly right.”

  “So, you were the one holding onto my armor, weren’t you?”

  He glanced at me sourly. “It’s not your armor, McGill. It never was. Equipment is owned by the legion. We’re assigned gear, and it can be reassigned—for any reason the CO wants.”

  “I get it, I get it. You had this stuffed under your bed like some kind of whack-off porn-doll, and Foam made you cough it up. That has to hurt. But… aren’t you going to get a command of your own?”

  He shook his head. “Probably not. Foam wants to keep a close eye on me.”

  “Oh… that’s grim. Maybe you should just take a few deaths, or a solid stint in the stockade. Being beaten to death is kinda rough, I can tell you from experience, but at least you’ll have your pride afterward.”

  Fike set his jaw and flipped me off again. He shook the finger in my direction this time, in case I didn’t get the point. “Thanks for the advice, Centurion. Return to your unit and enjoy your gift.”

  I left him alone then, and I trotted back to my module excitedly. The truth was, I was kind of jazzed. This armor had saved my tail more than once, and I had missed using it throughout the Green World campaign.

  As soon as I entered the module, however, my smile faded.

  “Hey! Get out of there, Sargon!”

  “Fits me like a glove, sir,” the veteran said, turning my way. He had the leggings on, and his right arm was already rammed into a sleeve. “Don’t you think a front-line fighter should really get this? I mean—”

  “Take that off and move out, soldier!”

  Reluctantly, Sargon shed the armor and left it in a heap on the deck. I gathered it all together like a lost babe in the woods and carried it to my quarters. There, I did a full systems check. Fortunately, the suit was in prime condition.

  Smiling big, I stuffed it under my bunk and thumbed the pad on my footlocker. I’d have to keep this baby out of sight until I needed it. The suit was too attractive to riff-raff—it always had been.

  -21-

  Winslade visited me the very next day. He was a skinny fellow with an impatient manner of walking. I kinda thought he moved like a bird with a hotfoot.

  “McGill? Can I have a word, please?”

  “Sure thing, Tribune.”

  I followed him out into the passages. He slyly waited until no one else was in eavesdropping range before bending my ear.

  “McGill, I’ve been informed you’ve made a crucial error.”

  “How’s that, sir?”

  “You’ve accepted a gift from the enemy.”

  “Uh…” I said, uncertain as to what he was talking about. “Jenny Mills did give me some after-shave for my birthday, but that wasn’t any big deal. I don’t consider her to be a danger to society.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. People did that a lot, but they were usually women.

  “McGill, I’m talking about the suit of armor. You received such an item from Foam, didn’t you?”

  “Oh… yeah, sure. I got the armor. You came all the way down from Gold Deck to congratulate me on that, huh?”

  “No. Not at all. I came here to warn you: Foam is operating as would a Cephalopod leader in their old kingdom. The squids don’t rule by fear alone, you know.”

  “They don’t?”

  “No, McGill… gods, man! Why is it that having a conversation with you is so difficult?”

  I shrugged while thinking that over. “Maybe you should start at the beginning, sir.”

  “Very well. You showed Foam you were competent in battle back on Edge World. Further, you’ve been somewhat complimentary of him since then.”

  “Hold on, I told everyone he was the wrong choice for this promotion when he got it.”

  Winslade flapped a few skinny fingers at me in a dismissive gesture. “Yes, yes, but you took his gift. You spoke to him just today as if he’d earned the rank of tribune—when he obviously hasn’t.”

  I nodded. “It was sudden and unexpected. But he’s probably the best of your zoo legion officers, and I call them like I see them.”

  “So you’re kissing up, hey? Trite, but effective. In any regard, even after you objected to his rise to power, Foam has become fascinated by you. He’s decided you might make a powerful lieutenant.”

  “Uh… really?”

  “Yes, really. That’s why he gave you an invaluable gift. To seal the relationship.”

  I glanced toward my locker, then shifted my eyes to the deck. “Huh. That’s real interesting, Tribune, but I need to be going back to my unit—”

  Winslade put a skinny arm up between me and the doorway that led into my unit’s module. That was a daring move, since he was only about a quarter of my size, and his arm would probably snap like a dry twig if I leaned into him.

  “I swear,” he said, “if I had a million credits for every functioning brain cell you possess, I’d end up a pauper.”

  “Uh..”

  “Listen McGill. I’m here to warn you. I can see now that I must spell out the warning with crystalline clarity.”

  “That would be for the best, sir—and it would sure save a lot of time as well.”