“Huh…” I said, chewing that over. I had the water on by now and started rubbing soap everywhere.

  “What are you doing now? James, there’s water going over the camera lens.”

  “I bet so. Soap as well. Let me get this straight, you can’t even talk to Drusus directly? Is that right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, you’re a tribune, right? And he’s a praetor… that’s more than two steps.” Galina frowned fiercely. I could tell she didn’t like that idea at all.

  “Hold on a minute,” she said. “I’ll call you back.”

  She hung up, and I grinned while I sprayed off and climbed out of the shower. While I was toweling off and climbing into my clothes, she called back.

  “This is utter bullshit!” she exclaimed. “Who could have thought of such a stupid scheme?”

  I laughed. She was all about limiting people’s actions until it affected her personally. “Seems like I’m going to have to come up there in person to deliver my news.”

  She eyed me critically for a moment. “It’s that interesting?”

  “I think so.”

  “Come up here, then. I’ll help you deliver it.”

  I knew what that meant. Galina was hoping my information, whatever it might be, could be credited to her if it was hot enough. She was always on the lookout for a useful tidbit to help her sagging career.

  Her tapper began to buzz then, and she eyed it unhappily. “Who…?”

  “It’s probably Equestrian Woodard,” I said. “Isn’t he the man two steps above you?

  Maybe he wants to know why you’re trying to pester Drusus.”

  “You’re right… I have to take this. Shit. Haul-ass and get up here—today.” The screen darkened, and I laughed my way out of my front door.

  My dad knew something was up. He caught up with me in the garage. “Taking the tram to town, are you boy?” my father asked.

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “You’re not called-up to serve again or anything, are you, James?”

  “Not at all. I’m just looking for a quick road trip. Don’t worry about the tram. I’ll set her to auto-drive herself home.”

  He gave me a hug, and I left him there, frowning after me. His obvious distrust made me feel a little guilty. Sure, this really was an innocent trip to deliver information. But my folks had been ditched high and dry so often they were sensitive about it.

  Arriving at the sky-train station in Atlanta, I gave the tram a kick in the bumper while it dithered about the route home. It finally started trundling back to Waycross.

  I boarded the next flight and paid the fare by touching my tapper to a tattered armrest on the seat I chose. We launched fifteen minutes later on a sub-orbital flight, heading northeast. Central was only a few hours away by air. It didn’t take long or much money to get there.

  Settling in for the trip, I realized I hadn’t seen Etta in months. A short flight could be too long when you were busy—or even when you weren’t busy. Somehow, I never seemed to get around to making the trip to visit her.

  Once the seatbelt light went off, someone came along up the aisle behind me. That was unusual, but maybe the fella had to go to the can or something.

  Gazing out the window, I felt a sudden presence in the empty seat at my side.

  My instinct was to come around with my arm cocked back for a punch—but I restrained myself. After all, this was a public flight, and maybe someone had been unable to find an empty—

  My mind froze, as did the idiot’s grin of greeting I wore on my face when I turned and saw who had sat down beside me.

  “Hello, McGill,” said a cocky voice.

  I knew that voice, and I knew that tone. It was Winslade. He was a skinny snake of a man with bony arms and a pinched face that was permanently drawn into a sneer. As best I could figure, the man would have sounded sarcastic while reading a shopping list.

  Seeing him was a shocker, as I’d last laid eyes on him while I was killing him back aboard Legate, our destroyed transport ship. At that point he’d declared himself a renegade, a traitor to Earth, and an enemy of mine in every sense of the word.

  “Winslade?” I asked, my jaw sagging low.

  “The one and only,” he said. “What’s the matter? Are you drunk?”

  “Uh… what are you doing here?”

  “I’m looking for you. I… I need some help, McGill. I’m not clear on certain facts, and I’m hoping you could explain a few things for me.”

  Looking back toward the sky-train’s oval window, I contemplated the amount of force it might take to propel Winslade through it and out into open space. Hopefully, if I managed to throw him hard enough, he’d stay alive all the way down to the ground that was already a dozen kilometers below us.

  “Brain-lock again, McGill?” Winslade asked, totally misunderstanding my mood and thoughts.

  Finally, I turned back to him, and my fool’s grin once again was firmly planted where it had been before. “Good to see you again… uh… Centurion?”

  He winced. He was in uniform, and he clearly had the red crests of a centurion-ranked individual, the same as I wore. At the moment I was in my civvies, but once I got to Central I planned to change.

  “Yes,” he said. “You noticed that, did you? The small matter of my reduced rank came as a surprise to me as well. I’ve been demoted two steps. What’s equally galling is no one will tell me why.”

  That’s when my memory of last year’s events began to solidify. The brass had said something about bringing back Leeza and Winslade, both of whom had defected to

  Claver’s rebel army and been killed in the fighting. Clearly, they’d brought him back without his full memories, so he didn’t know he’d defected and turned traitor.

  Damn, this was going to be a seriously twisted mess to sort out.

  -3-

  I recalled that an evil man had once said you should keep your friends close—and your enemies even closer.

  That was the situation I found myself in right now. A concerned, puzzled Winslade sat at my side, questioning me about the details of the previous campaign.

  “So… what exactly did happen at Clone World?” he asked me.

  “Well sir, I’m sure you’ll be briefed when we get to Central,” I said, using as friendly a tone of voice as I could muster.

  “You’re mistaken. I’ve been alive and wandering the halls of Central for over six months now. No one has given me an adequate answer concerning my status. It’s quite frustrating.”

  “Is that so? And you’re really hoping I can help?”

  “It’s a longshot, I admit, but I’m desperate, McGill.”

  “How’d you even find me?”

  He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I’m still on the alert lists concerning Turov’s schedule. She swiped your name onto her roster today.”

  “That’s pretty thin. Just because she’s meeting with me, you first hopped a redeye train down to Atlanta, and then boarded this one headed back to Central? Just to find me?”

  “Evidently,” he admitted.

  “But… why not just call me up? Tapper-to-tapper?”

  He lifted his arm, and he pulled back his sleeve. His tapper had foil taped over it. “This may come as a surprise—perhaps you’ll even suspect I’m a paranoid schizophrenic—but I think my tapper has been spying on me. Ever since my overdue revival here on Earth, odd coincidences keep occurring…”

  I nodded. “You’re probably right about that. Don’t trust it. If the brass wants to snoop on you, they can do it at will.”

  Winslade squinted at me. “You know, that’s an honest answer. No one else I’ve met with would give anything other than platitudes and snorts of amusement. But you’re a man who’s often been the victim of such witch-hunts. That’s why I came to you.”

  I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. I’d never really liked Winslade much. But I’d never liked government spooks getting into people’s business, either. I felt the stirrings of an ethical dilemma in my near future.

  Clearly, Winslade was in the dark as to the reasons for his newfound status as a pariah. That had to come hard to any man, and it seemed wrong to me on the face of it. The accused should at least know what they’ve done. That only seemed right.

  “Winslade…” I said, coming to a fateful decision, “I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t.”

  He perked up like a dog sniffing bacon. “What?”

  “Don’t get too excited, I don’t know the whole story—probably not much more than you do. But I do know you did something wrong out at Clone World.”

  “But they said I never made it to Clone World! They said I died in a training incident, and there were complications, and I wasn’t revived until we got back to Earth. That’s why I don’t remember a thing about the campaign. How can I have committed a faux pas if wasn’t even alive at the time?”

  I lifted my hand to slow down his tirade. “Look, I said I don’t know the whole story. But what I do know is you pissed off the brass, and they didn’t revive you until we got home.”

  “But what heinous act could be worthy of such treatment?” he asked with pleading eyes.

  I gave him a firm shake of the head and lied through my teeth. “I have no idea.” He sat back and sighed. “Why tell me anything in that case?”

  “Because I believe a man who hasn’t committed a crime yet—from his perspective—shouldn’t be punished for it.”

  Winslade nodded slowly. “I can see that—especially from your point of view. You’ve been in that situation before, haven’t you?”

  “Quite a number of times. It’s just not right. It’s like sending police to go back in time to shoot children that are destined to become serial killers someday. It’s just not right.”

  “Hmm… All right. Thank you for the help—what little of it you managed to provide. I’ll figure this out, and when I do, I’ll inform you of the results. Just as payback.”

  “That’d be mighty considerate of you, sir—uh… Centurion, I mean.” At the moment, we both had the same rank. To the best of my memory, that had never happened before. He’d always been a step or two ahead of me.

  Winslade contorted his face into a configuration that was even more sour than usual. For the rest of the flight, he regaled me with his numerous attempts to learn the truth about his predicament. I paid very little attention, but I was impressed that the brass had managed to get the results they’d been aiming for.

  The idea had been to revive some of the turncoats from the Clone World campaign and watch them closely. If they had contacts with Claver’s agents on Earth, it was reasoned that they would seek to connect with them again and demand to know what had happened.

  So far, that angle seemed to be working in Winslade’s case. He was like a dog on a hunt. His eyes slid from side-to-side with each sly new thought that entered his brain.

  Finally, we landed at Central.

  “Can I give you a lift, McGill?” Winslade asked.

  “Sure.”

  For some reason, I’d expected him to summon a private aircar for the trip to Central. That wasn’t the case. Instead, he summoned a cab. He paid half the fare and looked at me expectantly.

  With a grunt, I shoved my tapper at the pay-module. We were splitting the cost. I supposed that was legit, as we were the same rank now.

  The auto-cab lurched into motion once our destination had been chosen, and we’d paid in advance. We were given a no-frills ride to Central. The cab lurched at every navigational shift and smelled of ozone, urine and hot motor oil.

  Landing on one of the side-slot platforms, we parted ways, and I entered the building alone. Moments later, I was heading up to the Turov’s office. She’d insisted on playing a go-between role. The new software update had forced me to agree.

  Naturally, I knew she was angling to take all the credit for whatever my news was about. But I had a simple way to block that.

  “Nope,” I said, crossing my big arms. “I’m telling my story to Drusus, and Drusus only.”

  Galina had placed a lingering set of fingers on my arm. Now, she dug in her nails. “Listen to me, McGill. You’re not cutting me out of this deal.”

  “Deal? This isn’t a deal. This is a report.”

  “Fine,” she hissed. “Call it whatever you want. But you’re reporting to me, or not at all.”

  My fat thumb reached out and stabbed the emergency stop on the elevator. Galina stumbled and cursed as it screeched to a halt.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “I’m reversing this car. I’ve decided not to make my report today.”

  “What? You can’t do that—you’re under orders!”

  I shrugged, punching up the lobby on the panel. The floors you could visit were always restricted, but everyone could get to the lobby.

  “All right, all right!” she said in exasperation. “You’ll come with me to deliver your manifesto in person!”

  We got the elevator started in the right direction again, and a few minutes later we reached the top floors of the ziggurat-shaped building. Walking carpeted hallways, we found our way into Drusus’ sumptuous office.

  Every time I met with Drusus it seemed like his office had undergone a recent upgrade. It had been little more than a tent or a bunker back in the old days when he’d been running campaigns on various worlds. Now, it was quite a bit nicer than that.

  Just to begin with, he had an aircar parked in the middle of the place. There was a chimney above the vehicle that could be used as a private exit. In the front, we found a wide foyer and a circle of cushy furniture. Perhaps this area was for VIPs to wait or hold informal meetings. In the back was a huge desk, which I knew converted to a tabletop battle computer at the touch of its master’s fingers.

  After sharing salutes, Drusus indicated we should be at ease. He stood in the middle of his circle of comfy chairs. He smiled at us coldly and indicated that we should sit down. I took command of the biggest chair in the collection and stretched out gloriously.

  “Damnation, Praetor! This office is bigger than my folks’ house! You’re doing pretty well for yourself these days.”

  “Glad you like it, McGill.”

  Galina sat opposite me, as far as she could get on the other side of the circle. That made me frown, just a little. I’d entertained thoughts of kick-starting the unofficial side of our relationship later tonight. Such happy fantasies were fading fast.

  Drusus took a spot in the middle and leaned forward. “What have you got for me, McGill? Whatever it is, I hope it’s good.”

  “It is good,” Turov said, leaning forward to match him.

  We both glanced at her, but no one said anything. Soon, they were both looking at me expectantly. I grinned like a moron with a candy bar.

  Drusus threw up his hands. “Let’s hear it then! Time is wasting. I have a staff meeting at three.”

  Still leaning back, I gestured toward Galina. “Maybe you should start, Tribune.”

  Galina’s face went blank for a second, then a quick tightening of her lips told me she was onto my game. She didn’t know squat, but she was here to cash in on the credit. She couldn’t very well admit that now.

  She struggled, with both of us watching, for a full second. “It’s related to Winslade,” she said at last. “McGill took the flight up here to Central with him this morning.”

  Drusus looked at me in surprise. “I was under the impression you two didn’t get along. Has he finally cracked? Has he shown us how Claver recruited him?”

  They were both barking up the wrong tree, so I decided to help them out a little. “No, sir. Winslade is clueless. He’s lost and confused. But I do have something else to show you, check this out.”

  With a flick of my finger, I tossed the numbers Abigail had given me from my tapper to the coffee table we all sat around. The table lit up as it caught the numbers, spun them around so we could all see them and expanded them up so that each digit was the size of my hand.

  Galina’s mouth transformed into a tight pink rosebud. She was annoyed that I’d just called her bluff—but Drusus seemed intrigued. He frowned at the digits for a moment.

  “Galactic coordinates?”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  He eyed me with guarded interest. “These numbers… that’s pretty far out. Not even in our province. What’s out there?”

  “You know how we trashed a few Skay in orbit over Clone World? And how we ‘rescued’ several Mogwa ships for later study?”

  Drusus hesitated. “Those rumors are unsubstantiated, McGill.”

  “Of course they are. This spot is special like that. This is where another advanced derelict ship exists. According to my source, it wasn’t a total loss. It’s much more intact than the ones we destroyed.”

  Both their eyes widened as they considered the possibilities. “An alien wreck?” Drusus asked. “Who knows about it? How did you find out about this information?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve been contacted by those who discovered it. They want to give us exclusive access to the wreck.”

  “And what’s in it for them?”

  “More importantly,” Galina interrupted. “What’s to keep us from claiming it and cutting them out of any deal you might have arranged—without authorization, I might add.”

  Drusus glanced at her. “I thought you were instrumental in bringing this information to light.”

  Galina looked startled. “I’m only concerned McGill has gone too far. I haven’t agreed to anything on Earth’s behalf—unlike him.”

  Drusus narrowed his eyes. He was suspicious of her and with good reason.

  I cleared my throat and leaned forward. “Here’s the deal,” I said. “We’ve been given information. If it checks out and it’s valuable, the source wants to be given diplomatic immunity.”

  “Diplomatic Immunity? So this is some kind of alien we’re talking about?”

  “Let’s just say they need Earth’s protection.”

  “Huh…” Drusus said, thinking it over. “We’d have to check it out first, of course. But if it’s real… a find like this is unquestionably valuable.”