The squid indicated the surface of his desk. I walked forward and used one finger to spin around the image so it faced me.

  “Hey there,” I said, liking what I saw.

  A young adjunct with short-cropped hair was playing the part of receptionist for Drusus. I was impressed as this alone told me he was true brass. Most officers only had AI faces answering their calls.

  Besides, she was kind of pretty.

  “Who are you, Adjunct?” she asked. “What happened to sub-centurion—?”

  “Bubbles is right here, don’t worry,” I told her. “I’m Adjunct James McGill, from Legion Varus. I need to talk to the praetor. It’s urgent.”

  Her face had been open and inquisitive, but it quickly closed down into an unpleasant scowl. I thought to myself she should avoid that type of expression. It would undoubtedly draw premature wrinkles on her face—and that would be a shame.

  “Legion Varus has been deployed,” she said. “All information concerning that legion is classified. This call is at an end, Adjunct.”

  “Wait!” I said. “Hold on, girl. Think for a second: I’m a member of that legion. I’m on Earth. Something has gone wrong with the Varus mission. Something has gone very wrong, and I’ve been sent to tell Drusus about it.”

  She hesitated. I could tell she wanted to cut me off, but she wasn’t quite sure that she should. Before she spoke again, I pressed my advantage.

  “Classified missions sometimes use unconventional channels when communicating their status back to the brass,” I said. “Now, all you have to do is contact Drusus and tell him who’s calling. If he doesn’t want to talk—well then, I’m in error.”

  That pretty face was scowling right up until the moment she hooked me up to Drusus, but I no longer cared. There were bigger things to worry about now.

  Drusus’ face appeared. “McGill? Really…?”

  “Yes sir! It’s your lucky day!”

  He heaved a sigh. “Then why is it that my lunch is already churning in my stomach?”

  “Well sir, my family has a number of remedies for that sort of thing. I’ll have to tell you about them sometime.”

  “I look forward to it,” he said dryly. “Now, why are you on Earth, and why are you calling me?”

  Right then, I knew I had him. He was in the palm of my hand. He’d almost wriggled free, what with the aliens and his secretary, but I’d gotten through.

  I think the reason Drusus put up with so much bullshit from me was because I intrigued him. We were polar opposites. He was a man of calm judgment, decorum and strict adherence to the rulebook—and I, on the other hand… I was a scoundrel. A man without any respect for the rules other than common decency in all its forms.

  Requesting a private talk before I spilled my guts, I learned Drusus had already dispatched an air car. It was coming from his office, and it arrived quickly.

  I was surprised to see there was no driver. I climbed in, and the air car lifted off. I was whisked away to Central.

  We had plenty of auto-piloting vehicles these days, of course, but they weren’t that common in air cars—especially ones heading to Central.

  Lawyers and bureaucrats, that’s who had stopped Earth’s development in AI. They’d started right in during the twenty-first century, suing the pants off of every auto-driven car manufacturer. Later on, when our AI got smarter, the Galactics had rolled in the Nairbs and pretty much outlawed the use of such systems.

  While I rode the skies to Central, I pondered the Empire. The core bedrock of the biggest organization in history, the glue that had kept it together for thousands of years, was economic in nature. By maintaining strict regional trading rights on many products—including AI systems—the Galactics had both kept the lesser races from improving and made us dependent on each other at the same time.

  Since AI systems were a trade good from the Pegasus star systems, it was illegal for us to make them very smart here on Earth. If you want a true smart air car, you had to pay up to the Pegs, as they were known. Since the Pegs liked to charge too many Galactic credits per license, we relied mostly on dumb, cheap robots.

  During the flight, I had time to wonder what this flying AI-driven car might indicate. Were we flaunting age-old laws? Or had we paid off the Pegs? Or possibly, we’d become so important to the Galactics that we were now allowed to bend certain rules.

  Whatever the correct answer was, I thought it would be an interesting question to ask Drusus when I saw him.

  When I landed at Central, things didn’t go quite the way I’d expected. In fact, I didn’t exactly land at all. As the car was descending, the roof opened up and swallowed it whole.

  Sinking down a deep shaft, I looked up, craning my neck to peer out the passenger window. Above me, a blue square of sky could be seen. Rapidly, this square became a rectangle, then a slit, and finally winked out entirely.

  “Uh…” I said, wondering what was going on. “Hey car? AI? Who’s driving this thing? Can you talk?”

  There was no response, and that got me to frowning. In case something had gone terribly wrong, I felt an urge to take action.

  I’m not a sit still and take it quietly kind of guy under most circumstances. So, I began to climb from the backseat into the front. Maybe with a real human at the wheel, the car would pay more attention to me.

  The first thing I discovered was my seatbelt didn’t release. I thumbed it, whacked it and gave it a mighty tug. Nothing.

  A moment later, I slashed myself free. A big rip appeared in the tank-grown leather seat, but I figured that was just too damned bad. The owner should have instructed the car to talk.

  Wriggling over the seats from the back into the front, I seized the wheel.

  The air car bucked a little, and a spark—no, make that a whole long streak of sparks—began flaring up from the fender on the passenger side.

  “Dammit…” I said, trying to angle away from the wall.

  I over-corrected as apparently the shaft the car was descending into was a very tight squeeze. I winced as a screeching sound began again. It set my teeth on edge, like fingernails on a rough surface.

  Getting desperate, I considered kicking out the windshield next—but I didn’t do it.

  Taking about six deep breaths, I reasoned things through. If Drusus had wanted me dead, he didn’t have to go to all this trouble. He’d have just ordered the Blood Worlders to shoot me when I was still back up in Nova Scotia.

  Bubbles would have done it, too. Squids were natural bastards on their best day.

  So, logically, I wasn’t in any danger. And even if I was, there wasn’t much I could do about it. I couldn’t fly the car back up the shaft. The door at the top had closed, and the shaft was so narrow I’d probably wreck the car in the attempt.

  Sighing, I relaxed, took my hands off the steering wheel and sat back. My arms were crossed, and I rode in brooding silence down about a hundred floors.

  At last, light expanded and brightened under the car. It came down for a very gentle landing.

  -29-

  When the air car landed, I took a good look around. I found myself in a luxurious office, a real surprise for Central.

  First off, the room was big. Possibly, this entire floor of Central had been used to make this one, gigantic chamber.

  Distantly, I saw a figure rise from a desk and approach the car. As if the car itself recognized the man, it rolled down a window for me.

  “Ah, McGill!” Praetor Drusus called out. “There you are!”

  It was time for a grin of greeting, so I created one, despite the fact it didn’t come from my heart.

  “Praetor Drusus!” I called out, bellowing back at him.

  I opened the car door gently, not wanting to do any further damage, and climbed out.

  “What do you think of my new car from Pegasus—Sweet Jesus!” Drusus broke off.

  Dumbfounded, he walked around the vehicle and surveyed the damage.

  There was a wisp of smoke and a powerful odor. My best guess was one of the tires had been abraded down to nothing, like a pencil eraser in the hands of a grade-schooler.

  Standing beside the vehicle, my smile faded away.

  “Uh…” I said. “I think the AI might need some adjustment.”

  “I don’t believe this…” Drusus said, making a second circuit of the car, faster this time. He spotted and touched each damaged component.

  Shaking my head, I made tsking sound. “A damned shame. Surprising too, seeing as it’s a genuine Pegasus product. Those aliens really know what they’re doing—usually.”

  Drusus looked like I’d run over his cat. “This car was trained to come down that shaft to my new office on its very first day, and it’s never made a navigational error before!”

  “Calibration,” I said firmly. “That’s what it needs. These vehicles can be tricky, sir. Just ask Turov, she’s had several air cars.”

  Drusus finally looked up at me, peering into my eyes. His expression had shifted from open and welcoming to suspicious.

  For my own part, I thought his mind was traveling down unfair pathways. He was already suspecting me. Sure, I’d wrecked his car, but that wasn’t the point. Why couldn’t he at least give me the benefit of the doubt?

  None of my thoughts showed on my face, naturally. In fact, I maintained a dumbfounded frown of shared concern. My hands were on my hips, and I eyed the car curiously, as if trying to fathom the mystery of its status.

  Drusus let his eyes travel over the car, then me, and then the shaft overhead.

  “When you got out of the car, you were in the driver’s seat, weren’t you?” he asked.

  “Um… yes sir. I get sick in backseats. It’s been that way since I was a kid.”

  He nodded slowly, he opened the back door. There, plain to see, the seatbelt and seats had been slashed. The foam padding underneath was exposed and mushrooming up in an ugly-looking manner.

  Drusus straightened and looked at me with his teeth clamped together.

  “I shouldn’t have done it,” he said. “It’s my fault.”

  “Uh… what’s your fault, Praetor, sir?”

  “I shouldn’t have allowed a man of your caliber into my air car. If you don’t want something damaged, you don’t stick it into a blender.”

  “Words to live by, Praetor.”

  We regarded one another seriously for a moment. Finally, Drusus turned his back on his car and walked away. He was making an obvious effort to drop his anger and focus just on me.

  I found this impressive. It was a clear example of how Drusus wasn’t like normal people. He could put aside petty troubles in order to seek important solutions to bigger problems.

  Since he’d made such a magnanimous move, I decided to do the same.

  “Let me cut right to it, sir,” I said walking after him. “I’m here because we’re about to lose Dark World. Turov needs to call in reinforcements, but she doesn’t want to do it.”

  Drusus frowned. “You realize she’s assured me, as recently as this morning, that she can hold and soon advance her position?”

  “Maybe—but that’s bullshit, sir. I’ve been on the front lines, and I’ve died there. The Vulbites have pushed us back. By now, they probably control half the factory complex.”

  “Vulbites aren’t that sophisticated,” Drusus argued.

  “It’s a simple matter of numbers: they have more.”

  He stared at me for a moment. “Come over to my desk,” he said.

  I followed him, and he led me to a command table. Normally, units like this were located in the center of a command post, but Drusus had one of his own.

  A sweep of his hand woke up the table, and a few more gestures brought up a schematic of the space complex.

  “This is the latest sitrep from Varus Command,” he said. “You’re telling me it’s in error?”

  Frowning, I pored over the map. It took a minute to get my bearings. The place was big and complicated, and some of its regions had yet to be explored.

  “There,” I said, spotting the hold out position my unit had defended until my last death. “That was where I was stationed yesterday. But it’s gone now, in enemy hands.”

  The region I’d indicated was tinted blue, which meant it was supposedly firmly held border territory. The outer hull was red, meaning it was in enemy hands—but there were spots of blue out there, too. The deeper levels were all green—meaning safe.

  “What else?” he asked.

  “That whole level and two more below it—that’s all gone sir. And these spots of interaction on the outer hull? Contested? That’s a joke. We abandoned those yesterday. Keep in mind that I’m not even sure how much worse it is right now.”

  Drusus leaned on the table, putting both his palms on it. The table made flashing ripples around his hands, trying to figure out what he wanted it to do next.

  “I don’t understand how she could do it—or why.”

  We were talking about Turov. I understood, and I felt a pang. I was in the very act of ratting her out.

  My relationship with Galina had never been anything like normal. We’d killed each other, loved each other, and backstabbed one another many times.

  But today, I was taking action because I felt I had to. She was only one of the friends I had out there on Dark World. The others were fighting and dying in a hopeless battle because of her.

  And it wasn’t like I was doing this to get revenge on her. I was motivated to save my friends the agony of frequent death and the possible loss of this valuable asset for the homeworld. Earth needed a front-line industrial base, just as Drusus had explained.

  “I’m not sure how this map was faked, or who did it,” I said. “But I think… yes, looking at this layout, I’d say you have old data. They’re feeding you maps from the early hours, right after the invasion and the original counterattacks. Things have changed for the worse lately.”

  He nodded. He looked morose.

  “I shouldn’t have sent Turov,” he said. “It’s my fault, in a way. I demoted her, humiliated her, and at the same time removed a more capable officer from the legion.”

  “I wouldn’t take all the blame myself if I were you, sir.”

  He looked at me. “If the soldier disobeys, it’s the soldier’s fault. But if the order was incorrect, or the general was unclear, it’s the general’s fault. Do you know who said that?”

  “Uh… no.”

  “Sun-Tzu. I’m paraphrasing, but the logic fits. I placed the wrong commander on the scene, after having put her in a no-win position.”

  “Um… how’d you do that, sir?”

  “Turov is very ambitious—I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  I laughed. “I might have at that.”

  “Well, when you demote someone, they’re naturally out to prove themselves and regain their rank. That instinct is doubly strong in Galina Turov.”

  “Oh…” I said. “I think I understand what you’re saying. She’s taking risks, delaying the reports of bad news, hoping against hope she can pull this off and come out a hero.”

  “Exactly,” Drusus said. “And all because I made a series of errors in judgment.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence. I still didn’t quite get why Drusus was blaming himself, rather than Turov.

  “Sir?” I asked. “Why exactly did you move Deech up into the top brass?”

  His head rose, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “That was a mistake too—I’m afraid. She’s a good officer, don’t get me wrong—but my motivations weren’t appropriate.”

  That word… appropriate. That set off alarm bells.

  “Sir?” I asked. “You and Deech aren’t… um… Maybe I shouldn’t ask any more.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” he said.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Drusus straightened his spine again. He’d been half-slumped over the command table all this time, not meeting my eyes.

  Now, he turned around and faced me again.

  “I’m sending you back,” he said.

  “Uh… okay.”

  “With a new legion right behind you.”

  I brightened. “Which one, sir?”

  “The Iron Eagles.”

  “Oh…” I said in disappointment.

  “You don’t approve?” he asked.

  “That’s not my place to—”

  “Just give me your opinion, as a man on the spot.”

  “Well sir, Iron Eagles is a fine outfit. One of Earth’s best. But they’re kind of straight-laced, if you know what I mean. I’m not sure they’ll mesh well with Varus.”

  He smiled grimly. “That’s what I’m counting on. Deech used to command the Eagles, did you know that?”

  “Um… yes sir.”

  That was another, more private reason why I was worried about the choice. Deech seemed to be behind Galina’s fall, and she might be pressing for Drusus to use her old legion to bail out Varus in the field.

  “Um…” I said. “Who might be placed in charge of the whole op, sir?”

  “Imperator Deech, of course,” he said. “She has the appropriate rank to run a two-legion operation. Besides, she’s recently commanded both of these outfits. I can’t think of anyone more qualified.”

  My lips curled up to bare my teeth, and I wanted to make a hissing sound—but I didn’t. Fortunately, Drusus missed my reaction. He’d turned back to his command desk and was making notes.

  Drusus had confirmed my worst fears. He was still favoring Deech, even if he didn’t realize it.

  Galina couldn’t help but feel burned. It would be the ultimate humiliation between these two women to have their roles reversed, and both placed on the battlefield together.

  “Sir…” I began, “I’m not entirely sure—”

  “McGill,” Drusus said, turning away from his desk again.

  I noticed he had a gun in his hand. Where had that come from? I wasn’t certain.

  “Sir…?”

  “I thank you for bringing me this information,” he said, “but I can’t publicly acknowledge the fact that you did it, do you understand?”