I smiled, and I watched her fume for a while. At last, she wanted to know what the hell I was smiling about.

  “It’s good to be home, Galina.”

  “Don’t get any ideas.”

  “I’m not, I’m not. But let me explain—we brought back more than a lot of banged up troops.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Let’s go down to the barracks and talk to Natasha and Graves.”

  Warily, she followed me out of the offices. As we exited, I was pleased to see her boy-toy secretary Gary look as stunned to see me as Chaska had looked when the shock-rods had grazed his nads.

  Way down a few hundred floors, we found temporary housing for visitors. It wasn’t the best, which was why I’d chosen to sleep on Galina’s couch.

  “McGill… Tribune!” Natasha was climbing to her feet and stretching when we got there. She was still wearing the same crumpled, dirty uniform she’d had on when I’d last seen her.

  “You’ve been here eight hours, Specialist,” Galina said, “what have you been doing?”

  “Working, sir.”

  Natasha proudly showed us a series of polygon boxes. They were about waist high.

  “What is this?” Galina demanded.

  “Didn’t McGill tell you? We negotiated a special deal with the Vulbite queen. She let us take several of her best spinners with us.”

  “Her best what?”

  We explained how the armored suits were made, and the necessity of using natural Vulbite silk to adhere the suit together until it was cured. We then showed her the Vulbite spinners, who were docile worker-types, and the partly finished suits we’d taken.

  Galina watched all this, her eyes big and darting around as she took it in. “This is astounding. I can’t believe insects had anything to do with the process. We’ll have to find a work-around, of course, but… yes. You’ve done well, James.”

  She beamed up at me, and I grinned back.

  Natasha didn’t look as happy. She rolled her eyes at us when Galina wasn’t looking.

  “Pack this up,” Galina said suddenly a few minutes later.

  “But, sir…” Natasha said, “we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Galina shook her pretty head. “Not now. First, have you got a sample?”

  Natasha went to the Vulbite workers. She had to wrestle away a suit that was incomplete, but it was human-sized. They didn’t seem to get the idea that she didn’t want them to finish it.

  Galina grabbed up the suit, but then quickly threw it at me. “Gah! It’s sticky and disgusting. McGill, you must come with me to Drusus’ office. We must display this find, and claim it fully, before Winslade learns what has happened and attempts to take some of the credit.”

  Shrugging, I moved to follow her. Natasha reached out a quick hand and hooked me. She looked up at my over-sized, happy face.

  “She’s going to screw you somehow, James,” she hissed. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “That’s kind of a private matter, Natasha. But yeah, I was kind of hoping…”

  “No, you idiot!” she hissed. “I mean she’ll take all the credit. She’s already moving to edge out Winslade.”

  “But he was trying to scoop her himself!”

  “Yes, yes, exactly. That’s what the brass does! They ditch failures and glom all the glory for anything that goes right.”

  “Hmm… You’ve got a point. I’ll be careful.”

  “One more thing…” she said, looking down.

  “Uh… what?” I asked warily. We’d been lovers a few times on this trip, and I was worried she’d ask for more. Like… to be my girlfriend again.

  “I just worked like a dog for you overnight,” she said, “while you slept upstairs on a couch.”

  I wasn’t sure how she knew about the couch, but then she was a tech. All techs were spies.

  “Yeah…?”

  “You remember your promise?” she asked earnestly. “When we got back to Earth?”

  Dumbfounded, I stared at her. I’m a man who makes random promises to women on a near-daily basis. Hell, almost anybody could have said I’d made a promise and promptly forgotten about it. That was part of my charm.

  “Give me a clue.”

  She punched my arm and twisted up her face. Stepping close, she whispered three words: “The casting device!”

  “Oh…” I said, feeling kind of relieved. “I’ll see if I can get Etta to let you in down there for a quick look later on, okay?”

  This seemed to satisfy Natasha, and we parted ways. Holding the armor she’d given me away from my body, I carried the half-complete suit her new-found bug-friends had been spitting on all night.

  Following Turov upstairs was a treat as always. That girl could walk, if you know what I mean.

  Galina prattled on about a million plans of hers while we rode the elevator back up to the three hundreds and beyond. It all sounded interesting, but I was kind of sleepy, and I hadn’t had breakfast yet. I yawned, and she looked annoyed.

  “Are you even listening to me, McGill?”

  “I sure am. I heard every word, I swear it.”

  She frowned in irritation, but then continued to tell me things. I pretended to listen until we got to Drusus’ office.

  There, I found we weren’t the main attraction. We were carrying a sticky, half-cured human-sized armored suit and everything—but no one was looking in our direction.

  At the front of the conference table, which also doubled as a powerful battle computer, was a huddle of three people. One was Praetor Drusus. I was happy to see him. The other two… not so much.

  On Drusus’ right was Praetor Wurtenberger. He was a heavy-set fellow with a euro accent and a gut that pushed furniture around when he leaned forward. His eyes were lit up and full of excitement.

  The real surprise, however, was on the left of Drusus. It was none other than that temporary stand-in Tribune Winslade.

  “How the fuck did he get here before us?” Galina hissed at my side.

  “He’s quicker than a fox in a henhouse, that’s for sure.”

  “This is fascinating,” Wurtenberger was saying. “So, the insects themselves make the armored suits? I can’t believe it! Who would have suspected a natural process such as excrement could—ah! I see we have guests.”

  He turned to look at us as we entered the room. Drusus looked up as well, and he smiled slightly. He was the one who’d told Galina to come here today.

  “Centurion McGill, Tribune Turov, please join us at the table.” He waved at the numerous comfy chairs. I took one on the Wurtenberger side.

  That was partly because Winslade was staring at both of us—eyes sliding side-to-side from me to Galina and back. He reminded me of an outhouse snake that didn’t know which ass to bite first.

  “I’m… surprised to see you here, McGill,” he said. He glanced at Drusus reproachfully, faking a tight smile. “Was this meant to be a surprise, sir? I just reported McGill as missing and possibly permed not an hour ago.”

  “No surprise was intended,” Drusus said. “I simply wanted all the parties involved in this discovery to be present at this meeting.”

  Wurtenberger was staring at me now. We’d met before, but it was years back, and it wasn’t like we were buds, or anything. A flicker of recognition did grow on his features, however.

  “Ah! This is the brute you were telling me about, no Winslade?”

  “Um… this is Centurion McGill, yes.”

  “Hmph,” Wurtenberger said, pursing his lips in my direction reproachfully. “Disobedience, physical intimidation, frequent conduct unbecoming… I don’t know why you brought him to a top-level meeting, Drusus.” He turned to raise his bushy eyebrows in Drusus’ direction.

  Drusus was watching everyone. People thought he was easy to fool because he wasn’t a loud officer, but I could have told them different. He tended to figure out what had really happened most of the time—which was both good and bad, from my point of view.

  “McGill is unique,” he said diplomatically. “For example, as you can see, he’s not lost or permed. He’s right here, reporting in.”

  “How did you get back to Earth?” Winslade asked, unable to hide his astonishment and dismay on that point.

  “I had a little help,” I admitted. “Natasha is the best tech around, and it turns out there was more than one set of teleportation gear down there in that termite nest we invaded.”

  Winslade set his teeth and nodded. He looked at the table for a second, then slapped it with a black-gloved hand. “It makes no difference. In fact, I’m happy you’re here, McGill. You can bear witness to a proud moment in my career.”

  “Yes,” Wurtenberger said, looking at Galina for the first time. “Turov, we’ve been discussing a recent change we made in the Legion Varus roster. Perhaps you’d like to make it permanent?”

  Galina wasn’t surprised, she was pissed. Only I could tell that, though, by the way her eyes flashed over her false smile.

  The situation was clear to everyone. Winslade hadn’t been idle out there on Glass World. He’d tried to perm me, and he was bucking for her job to boot.

  “That’s a very interesting offer,” she said. “I assume I’d be moving back to my previous rank as imperator?”

  Wurtenberger and Drusus glanced at one another. In my guts, I began to feel a little sick. After all, Galina was a lousy officer. For instance, she’d run out on us just a week back rather than face a losing campaign. But for all of that, Winslade might be worse from my point of view. He downright hated me most of the time, and he was the sneakiest man alive—with the possible exception of myself.

  Accordingly, I figured it was time to intervene.

  “Sirs,” I said, clearing my throat, “may I make my report? I’ve got some critical information that you’ve got to know about right now.”

  “Very well,” Wurtenberger said, “but don’t take too long.”

  I realized right then that he was the one running this meeting. He was senior to Drusus, although they held the same rank. It seemed kind of rude that Drusus should be bossed around in his own office, but that was the Hegemony way.

  “Excellent,” I began, and I slid the armored suit across the table at them.

  The three men looked at it like a dead dog. Winslade in particular crossed his arms and sniffed. “We’ve got lots of those, McGill.”

  “They’re made by the Vulbites themselves,” I said.

  “We know that,” Winslade snapped, and he turned to the others. “If we can continue our previous discussion—”

  “Let McGill finish,” Drusus said. “I think he’s got more to tell.”

  “Damn straight I do. Check out this suit—it’s not like any of the others you’ve ever seen.”

  Sighing, Winslade thumbed the material and fiddled with a sleeve. “Black in color, with a weight and general nature similar to a thousand captured units. Yes, I can see this suit is only half-way through the curing process—and yes, we were able to figure out the Vulbites make them with webbing during your absence. I’m not seeing anything remarkable here.”

  I stood up, grabbed the suit and held it up. Using my long, long arms, I thrust it high. The legs still dangled on the computerized table, making the screen light up and throw error-icons around.

  “Notice, sirs, that this suit wasn’t made for a bear from Rigel. It’s made for a human. In fact, I had it fitted to your size, Tribune.”

  So saying, I tossed it across the table to Winslade. It flapped up and over his head, and he snatched it down irritably.

  “Terribly sorry about that, sir.”

  Drusus and Wurtenberger were on their feet. They felt the material and examined it with new interest.

  “A man-sized suit?” Wurtenberger said. “How many of these have you found?”

  “That’s the only one so far,” I admitted.

  “Fascinating…” Wurtenberger continued, “and threatening. Could Claver have been manufacturing these for his troops? That would make his ham-handed legions much more effective if he could make enough of them. This is news indeed, McGill.”

  “It’s not fully finished yet,” I said, “but it will be in a few days after some more processing steps and curing. Then you can try it on, Winslade. I fitted it to your height.”

  Winslade was still trying to look disgusted, but he was failing. Even he was impressed by my gift, although he wouldn’t admit it.

  “McGill…” Drusus said, “there’s something I don’t understand here. If you found this man-sized suit, and it’s the only one you’ve got, was it pure chance that it fits Winslade? Or did you manage somehow to tailor it?”

  I smiled. Drusus was the smart one, I’d always said as much. He’d finally noticed what I was hinting around about.

  Leaning forward with a big Georgia grin, I looked at all of them. “Sirs, I didn’t find that suit. I didn’t just tailor it, either. We made it, and we can make more. We can even make a suit that would fit you, Praetor.” I gave Wurtenberger and his big gut a nod.

  All three of them were staring at me for a few quiet seconds. They were feeling up the suit, and it was beginning to dawn on them that I might not be full of horseshit.

  “How?” Winslade demanded. “What you’re suggesting is virtually impossible. There are no processing machines back on Glass World. Just the raw materials and the workers.”

  “That’s exactly right, sir,” I said, and I nodded to Galina. She woke up her tapper and ran a finger over it, tossing a vid from her wrist to the table we were all leaning on.

  There, in full color, sound and three dimensions, a video began to play.

  “This is from deep down in the labs under Central. The Vulbite workers you see are cooperating with us. We only have seventy of them at the moment, but they’re highly skilled.”

  Drusus, Wurtenberger and especially Winslade were amazed. Not one of them had a closed mouth. Not one. They were gaping at us like fish, and none of them could struggle out a word.

  “You see here?” Galina went on calmly. “This Vulbite is using her mouthparts to spray a sticky residue over the base fabric. This is done in layers, and as far as we can tell, the stardust material is never actually ingested by the Vulbites. It would probably be fatal to them if they did eat it.”

  “Where…?” Drusus began. “These creatures are here, at Central?”

  “Yes. We’ve given the lab people custody, and I must point out that this is a highly classified situation. We had to get permission from Hegemony Labs just to tell you about it. Only the fact it’s a defense matter allowed us to get permission.”

  “I don’t believe it…” Wurtenberger said. He turned to us, and he really looked at us both for the first time. He was smiling, smiling big. “This is astounding. You’ve completed the mission. Not just bringing back intel—but an actual manufacturing process!”

  “Just so, sir,” Galina said primly. “But as the tribune of Legion Varus, I can’t take sole credit.”

  Winslade made a small, choking sound.

  “No,” she continued. “That wouldn’t be right. McGill here was critical, as he’s always been our top commando. A miracle-worker who does the grunt work I assign to him with amazing proficiency. Similarly, I can’t forget the contributions of Primus Winslade. He held down the fort at the Glass World, and it does seem he made discoveries on his own regarding the process. These details have now been rendered obsolete, of course, but nonetheless the effort was commendable.”

  I had to hand it to Galina. When it came to squeezing the glory out of a situation, she was hands-down the best. Winslade had tried hard, but he was simply out-classed.

  “This does seem to put a new spin on things…” Drusus said.

  “It certainly does,” Wurtenberger said. He was back to fondling the armored suit. “You said something, McGill, about making such a suit for me?”

  “That’s right sir.”

  “I would very much like that.”

  “Then you’ve got it. As soon as we kick up the flow of crystals from Glass World, we’ll put our team of bugs on the project.”

  The group fell to happy handshakes and congratulations. Only Winslade seemed left out, both in mood and attention.

  From a quiet distance, he showed me a line of teeth instead of a smile. He had to be pissed and then some to be upstaged like this. For some reason, that fact made me grin so hard and so long that my face hurt by the end of the meeting.

  By the time we left, we had new orders. We were to oversee the construction of several new suits and deliver them to the top brass.

  “That frigger Wurtenberger thinks I’m his seamstress now,” Galina complained as we left.

  “Did you see Winslade’s face? His expression was worth dying a time or two right there.”

  She glanced at me. “You did well, James. Not only on this mission, but in that tight political situation.”

  I hefted the sticky suit between us. “I had the goods this time out. That’s makes it easy.”

  Galina smiled. “Yes… yes you did. Would you like to report to my place this evening?”

  My eyes blinked once. This was out of the blue. Galina was always a woman who could blow hot and cold from one minute to the next, but we hadn’t been together for a while, and she’d pretty much ditched me out on Glass World.

  Still, as a man, I knew there wasn’t any percentage in holding a grudge against a woman in need—especially not one who was as fun in private moments as she was.

  I smiled. “Let’s do dinner first. I’m starved.”

  “Certainly, but I’m buying.”

  “Deal!”

  That began a lovely evening that couldn’t have gone better from my point of view.

  -64-

  The next day I was summoned back to Central with fanfare. Galina got herself on the roster somehow, and she showed up with me at Drusus’ office at 800 hours. She had her finest uniform on, the one that cinched-up tight in the back. More than one person had asked about it, wondering if smart-cloth was in short supply this year. Galina always met such questions with a frosty silence.

  Today, however, she was all smiles. I knew she was planning to cash-in on my success, but I was in such a good mood I didn’t even care.