“Uh…”

  “It would be unseemly, and it would blow your cover. I’m going to be very busy deploying the reinforcing legion as rapidly as possible, so I regret that I can’t offer you any form of refreshment before I see you off.”

  “Um… that’s okay, sir. I’m not hungry or anything.”

  He gave me a wintery smile. “Good. Well, then. Time to send you back to your unit, in the fastest manner possible. Our cover story will be that you died stepping through the jump-gate when it was unstable. That happens from time to time, you know.”

  “No, sir. I didn’t know that…”

  “Well, now you do. Good bye, Adjunct.”

  “Uh… Good bye, sir.”

  Then, without a further word, he shot me in the left nostril—or at least, that was my recollection. It’s hard to be sure as I was dying at the time, and nerves in shock can give a man twisted-up memories.

  I can only assume the super-sonic pellet punched right through the back of my skull. Being well-acquainted with such things, I’m sure a microsecond later my brains were blasted out all over Drusus’ office in a fine, misty spray.

  One thing I was sure of when I eventually returned to life: the praetor had worn a cold smile on his face as he murdered me.

  Maybe he’d been more upset about the state of his air car than he’d let on.

  -30-

  After an unhappy revival, I was redeployed to my unit.

  My cover-story about having been killed in a jump-gate incident was met with outright disbelief.

  “Yeah sure, McGill,” Leeson said, snorting with laughter. “Turov must have been pretty disappointed with your performance if she killed you all over again.”

  Harris guffawed, and I looked at both of them with a smug expression.

  “What?” Harris asked, noting my mood was a good one. “You like dying now? Does it turn you on?”

  “I don’t mind when my mission has been accomplished.”

  They both blinked at that. “We still talking about Turov?” Leeson asked, confused.

  “No, dammit. I’m talking about what I set out to do.”

  “What?” Harris demanded. “Get us pulled out of here?”

  “Better,” I said. “We need reinforcements, and we’re going to get them.”

  “More lies,” Winslade said.

  He’d sidled up to listen to our conversation, apparently.

  “You’ll see,” I said.

  “You’re wrong, McGill,” Winslade said. “In fact, you’re worse than wrong, you’re full of the worst kind of sewage. I don’t approve of ginning up morale in this fashion—by lying to the rank and file.”

  Frowning, I turned to face him. “What makes you so sure help isn’t coming, Centurion?”

  “Because I’ve questioned Turov—with great circumspection, of course—on her plans. You might have spoken to her, and possibly she promised you help. But it will not happen. Not in the near future, at least. She wants us all to fight and die down here in squalor until the absolute hopelessness of the situation is made even more abundantly clear.”

  “Is that right?” I asked.

  Shaking their heads in disgust, Leeson and Harris walked away. Once they were out of earshot, Winslade came a few steps nearer. I did my best not to shy away.

  “You did see her—didn’t you?”

  “I surely did.”

  “And you… planted the drone? Is that correct?”

  “Uh…” I said, thinking about how I’d handed it over to Turov, screwing Winslade in the process.

  “Don’t tell me you lost it!” Winslade exclaimed.

  My slack-jawed stare didn’t impress him. “It was kinda small…” I said, deciding to cop to the lesser plea he’d offered me.

  Winslade sucked in a lot of air and spit through his teeth. “That thing is illegal, expensive, and dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  “Don’t I know it, Sir, I’m awfully sorry. I’m sure it will turn up somewhere.”

  “You’re an imbecile, McGill. The only bigger fool present is me, for trusting you with such a delicate instrument. I should have crushed it under my boot heel. That would have been more satisfying.”

  “In the end, you might be right about that, sir,” I said.

  He gave me an odd look, not getting my meaning. Shaking his head, he stomped off in a huff. I wasn’t sad to see him go.

  Before I could settle down into a bunk and get a little much deserved shut-eye, I was accosted by another unexpected person. It was Della.

  So far on this campaign, I hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to her. She’d left 3rd Unit to join another outfit full of light troops who were experts in scouting. That was more her strong point, anyway.

  “Della,” I said, mustering all the enthusiasm I could with one eye propped open. “I haven’t seen you in a month.”

  “That’s because I haven’t sought you out,” she said.

  I heard, just maybe, a hurt tone under her words. Could she be suggesting I should have come looking for her?

  Della and I had a long, twisted history. That could be said about any number of women, but it was especially true in her case. We’d fought together, killed each other, loved each other, and even had a child—Etta.

  Suddenly, I knew why she was bent out of shape. It had to be about Etta. She didn’t give much of a shit about me most of the time, but buried beneath that harsh, Dust-Worlder exterior, she was still a mom.

  “It’s Etta,” I said. “Are you worried about her?”

  “Of course I am. I only just found out she tried to join Varus!”

  “She did?” I exclaimed, sitting up and pretending I was shocked.

  Della rolled her eyes at me. “You can cut the act. I know you were instrumental in keeping Etta out of the legion.”

  “Oh,” I said, slumping back and putting an arm over my face to block out the light.

  That earned me a swift kick in the ribs. Her boots were on, and my breastplate was off, so I knew I’d bruise up pretty badly. I didn’t think she’d broken any, but ribs could surprise you that way.

  In a flash of anger, I caught her foot and almost flipped her on her can, but she slipped away and danced out of reach.

  I rolled onto my feet, and we faced each other, both pissed off.

  Did I mention that Della and I had anger-management issues when we were in close proximity? This instance was just one of many.

  “How could you?” she asked.

  “Uh… how could I what?”

  “Let our daughter join this blood, bones and gristle legion? She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s too young!”

  “Damn, girl,” I said, rubbing my ribs. “Didn’t you just get done saying I kept her out?”

  “That’s not the point. She wouldn’t be even dreaming of joining if you hadn’t raised her to think Varus is acceptable. It’s anything but that.”

  “Um…” I said.

  Della had me there. Varus wasn’t the kind of outfit that you wished upon anyone other than your worst enemy. To my recollection, I’d only worked hard to sell two people on Varus: Cooper and Carlos. Both of them were in the legion now, and I was pretty sure they weren’t completely happy with their life choices.

  “All I do is defend Varus now and then.”

  “She’s convinced Varus is like her: unloved, out of place, and heroic. That’s got to be your fault.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “How did you find out about Etta?”

  She glanced over her shoulder toward Winslade. “He told me, while attempting to seduce me.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. “He thought that bit of information might turn you on, huh?”

  “He used it as a conversation starter—but the discussion quickly went in a direction he didn’t expect.”

  I laughed. “Did you cut off anything?”

  “No… but perhaps I should have.”

  “Okay, listen,” I said. “I didn’t tell you about Etta trying to break into Varus because I stopped her. We’ve got a few years now, as she’s underage and Varus knows it.”

  “That means nothing. She’ll never let it go. She’s more stubborn than either of us.”

  “Yeah…”

  Della’s face worked with a series of emotions. That wasn’t like her. She was a tough girl who took most life-events stoically.

  But the topic of Etta, her only child, brought out unusual feelings in her.

  “Listen,” I said, seeing she was really worked up about the whole thing, “when we get back to Earth, we can plot out a plan of action. Something we can work on together to gently steer Etta on a different path.”

  Della clearly needed comforting. She was a sleek, attractive girl who usually showed a lot of tanned skin. Today she was wearing a spacer suit, of course, but her face revealed her state of mind.

  Normally, when a pretty girl had a look like that on her face, I was the first man in line to give her a hug—but this was Della. She wasn’t entirely civilized.

  Her face twisted with worry, and she stared at the deck between us. “I keep thinking of her, dead in the mud on some airless rock. It makes me sick, James. I never want her to go through dying and living and dying again.”

  I sighed, stepped forward, and bit the bullet. I put a gentle arm around her shoulders.

  She tensed up automatically, and I swear, it took all my self-control not to cover my privates or even grab her wrist before she could put the hurt on—but I didn’t, and she didn’t do anything nasty.

  Della relaxed after a few seconds, and I gave her the lightest of squeezes. It was a very chaste hug, touching only her shoulders.

  Surprisingly, she seemed to appreciate the gesture.

  “I don’t want to see her like that, either,” I said. “That’s why I did my damnedest to get her black-balled.”

  “It won’t work—not forever.”

  “I know,” I said, “but I bought us some time.”

  She looked up at me then, and I saw a small flower of hope in her face.

  I also saw, to my amazement, what looked like a single glistening tear on her cheek.

  Damn.

  I couldn’t recall ever having seen Della cry before, not even when she had missing limbs and was dying in a heap.

  “Really?” she said. “How are you going to stop her?”

  “Uh…” I said, thinking fast. My mind was a blank for about three seconds, and Della’s face began to falter again.

  “It’ll take both of us,” I said. “It won’t be easy.”

  “What do we do? How do you control an errant child? I’ve got no experience with this. No Dust Worlder does, really. Our young do as they please once they reach sexual maturity.”

  “Right… I gathered that. But look, when dealing with adolescents, there are a few things that are known to work. You can pretend to be happy with their choices, for example.”

  Della blinked in confusion. “What?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Let’s say a girl chooses a boy to date—a boy you know will be trouble. A boy you hate.”

  “Yes?”

  “What parents would do in such a case—the smart ones—is pretend they liked me… uh, the hypothetical bad boy, I mean. Then the girl would often lose interest in time.”

  Della blinked. “Are you talking about what the parents of young women did to rid themselves of James McGill?”

  “Maybe…”

  She looked down, thinking about it. She didn’t seem to notice my hand was still resting lightly on her shoulder, so I left it there. There was no telling, after all, how much comforting she might require.

  “It might work…” she said. “It’s a trick. It’s such a base thing, but I understand it. The child is rebelling, demonstrating it has self-control and autonomy. Therefore, it innately wishes to do whatever the parents forbid.”

  I nodded, grinning down at her. “That’s right. And by the same token, any behavior the parents begin to encourage becomes less interesting.”

  “It will be hard, pretending to sell her on Varus. I’m not sure I can do it. I’m a poor liar.”

  “Well then,” I said, giving her an additional light squeeze. “We’ve got a plan, at least. We’ll dig into it the minute we get back to Earth.”

  Della glanced at my arm, which was now firmly encircling her shoulders.

  “James…” she said, “whatever you’re thinking about, it’s not going to happen. I’m too upset.”

  “What?” I exclaimed in mock excitement. “I just wanted to make you feel better.”

  Reluctantly, I let my arm drop away, and she gave me a small, thankful smile. She got up on her tiptoes, kissed my cheek, and then she headed back to her unit.

  I watched her go, eyeing her walk with pride. That girl really knew how to walk. A man’s pulse quickened with every step she took.

  When she’d gone, I flopped back on my makeshift bunk and threw my arm over my eyes again.

  Tomorrow would be another day. If I lived through it, I might look up Della and give her a second shot.

  After all, I wasn’t the kind of man who learned to avoid a fire the first time he got himself burned.

  -31-

  The Iron Eagles arrived the next day.

  There was no warning and no message from Central heralding the move. Deech simply walked through the gateway posts with her staff at her back, and she immediately began giving commands to anyone and everyone who got in her way.

  While this happened in the early morning, I was still sleeping—but that didn’t last long.

  A sharp boot kicked me in the side. By chance or design, the point of that boot struck home right where a dark bruise had grown up overnight due to Della’s generous shot to my ribs.

  Coming awake with a snarl, my hands grabbed that boot and twisted.

  Winslade wasn’t as fast or agile as Della. Perhaps he hadn’t been expecting my reflexes to be so quick, either.

  As a result, he was flipped around and onto his face.

  “Oh…” I said, yawning and getting up. “Sorry about that, Centurion. Should I lend you a hand?”

  “Get away from me, you oaf!”

  Winslade climbed painfully to his feet, and he eyed me with hate.

  “How did you do it?” he demanded. “How did you get Deech out here, taking over everything?”

  I stretched and shrugged, rubbing at that sore spot under my arm. “That was Drusus,” I said. “He decided to send her.”

  Winslade’s eyes roved the deck, deep in thought.

  “What’s the big deal?” I asked. “You wanted help. The Vulbites are going to attack soon, and they’re going to wipe us out when they do. I thought you wanted reinforcements.”

  “Yes, of course—but not Deech! She’ll get us all permed if she can!”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because it couldn’t be helped—at least, that’s what she’ll say. She’s no less ambitious than Turov. Don’t you get that?”

  I blinked. I knew what he meant, but I didn’t think the two women were much alike. Turov worked in a more free-wheeling fashion that I thought was much more dangerous. She used aliens, Galactics—whatever she had to. Deech, at least, took a much more plodding, traditional route to the top.

  “Listen, Centurion,” I told him, “I think you’re getting all wound up about nothing. We’ve got reinforcements coming. Earth is now aware we need help. It should all turn around now.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. I swear, if you gave the man a hundred-credit piece, he’d suspect it was a silver-painted poker chip.

  “McGill...” he said, “I sent you to talk to Turov, to get her to agree to request reinforcements. Instead, it seems that they’re coming without her request—and possibly without her knowledge as well.”

  I shrugged. “Do you really care how I did it? You wanted it done, and it’s done. If you send James McGill on a mission, you’d better not be the picky type.”

  “Evidently…” he said, and he walked off.

  Somehow, his radar was up. The man had a rodent’s intuition about danger. I didn’t think he had any idea how I’d arranged things yet—but I hoped he didn’t pry too deeply. He wasn’t going to like the answers.

  I wondered how things were going to play out. As it turned out, I didn’t have long to wait.

  After Deech had marched through the gateposts with her entire senior staff at her back, she took over Gold Deck aboard Nostrum. A few minutes after that, none other than Galina Turov herself contacted me.

  “McGill,” she said, seething mad. “I don’t know how you did it, but I know you alerted Drusus. I will not forgive you for this! Never!”

  “Uh…” I began.

  My mind searched for any rational excuse, lie or dodge. After a long second, I thought I had an idea. There was no time for second thoughts, so I ran with it.

  “Wait a minute!” I said. “Winslade ordered me to do it! Winslade—”

  But I stopped talking, because the channel had closed. Effectively, she’d shut me down.

  “Winslade what?” a familiar voice demanded from behind me.

  I turned to find Centurion Winslade approaching me carefully, the way a man might sneak up on a rabid dog.

  “Hello, sir,” I said, sounding as cheery as I could.

  “What foul slander were you mouthing just now? And to whom?”

  “What? No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head and laughing. “Don’t get the wrong idea. There’s this girl down on Blue Deck that I’ve—”

  “Is her name Winslade then, perchance?”

  “Of course not, sir. You see, I had a date, and I broke it to follow your orders—regarding the reinforcements, I mean. She’s kind of mad, so she hung up.”

  He checked my tapper, and I let him. The id was blocked, which wasn’t uncommon. Turov had called me privately.

  His finger lifted, and for a cold second I thought maybe he’d tap on the call-back option, so I deftly turned away.

  “If you don’t mind, sir,” I said, “I’d like to go up there and apologize in person.”

  “You only just got back, and Deech is in inspection mode. Request denied.”

  “Well then… Is there any chance you might see fit to record an explanation for me?”