“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” I asked.

  The Mogwa eyed me with immediate suspicion. That was their way, when they met up with anything unexpected.

  “Business?” Sateekas said. “Is this a code word for payment? If so, there shall be none. Possibly, fueling stations might be arranged for your fleet during transport, but only if we find it convenient to supply such niceties.”

  “Uh…” I said, blinking, “that’s not exactly what I meant, sirs. I was just wondering if you might share where our target star might be? Where are we going to war to spread the glorious will of the Empire?”

  Nox and Sateekas exchanged wary glances. Nox signaled in the negative. Sateekas turned toward me thoughtfully.

  “You ask too much, McGill.”

  I glanced at Drusus, who looked kind of gray. He wasn’t any help. He probably hadn’t eaten enough.

  “Hmmm…” I said. “Okay then. We’ll load up a transport and our best legion. We’ll follow your battlecruiser wherever you need us to go.”

  Sateekas scoffed. “You’ll do no such thing. All your ships will gather. When a great host has assembled, my vessel will serve as the fleet’s flagship. It will be something of an embarrassment to lead a horde of militia vessels to war, but it can’t be helped in this case. We have to face realities out here on the frontier.”

  “Um… okay…”

  Drusus finally couldn’t contain himself any longer. After all, he was the man who would have to command this fleet on Earth’s behalf. He couldn’t very well plan a monstrous voyage of this type without more information. I could tell he was hungry to hear the details.

  “Sirs, please. We must know at least the distance in lightyears we’ll be required to travel. We can’t plan without that information.”

  “Obstinance!” Nox declared. “Impudence! Who is this being who dares to demand things of an Imperial Governess?”

  “I—I didn’t—”

  Fortunately, Sateekas intervened on our behalf. He was an old navy man, after all. He knew the truth behind Drusus’ words.

  “It is true, you can’t load a ship with fuel if you don’t know how far you will be traveling. I understand your need for logistical details, Drusus. I will give you a modest goal: plan for a voyage of five thousand lightyears, six thousand to be on the safe side.”

  “Six thousand…?” Drusus was gob-smacked. Our entire province was only a thousand lightyears across, more or less, and five hundred deep. To the best of my knowledge, Earth had never gone so far across the cosmos in any direction, by any means.

  “Is this a problem?” Sateekas demanded.

  Drusus gathered himself and made an effort to seem professional. “Yes, it is. First of all, I have to know if you are talking about the full distance, there and back, or only about the distance to the target one-way.”

  “My figure would be for the round trip—assuming any of your ships survive the battle and manage to return.”

  “Of course… well sir, the good news is some of our vessels can make a journey of that range. Not many, but some.”

  Sateekas made a blatting noise. “Range… of course. I had not considered it… Earth would naturally build only local defense vessels, not real ships-of-the-line. I’m disappointed.”

  “They’re probably lying, Sateekas,” Nox said. “I suspect they’re holding back on us as would a tax cheat. Let’s bring in Nairbs to tally their real fleet and measure their capacities.”

  “No, no, I won’t have that kind of talk. These beasts are feral, stupid, and primitive in the extreme, yes. But they are creatures of honor. I’ve watched them fight and die with cunning and bravado. That’s why we’re here to gather them to our banner, my dear.”

  Nox appeared to lose interest. “The military side of this is yours to run as you see fit, as we agreed. Just don’t be too trusting.”

  “Never.”

  Sateekas turned back to confront us. “How many of your ships could travel a distance of three thousand lightyears, Drusus?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe twenty or thirty percent of them. The largest vessels of the newest classes. But you were talking about six thousand, not—”

  “Indulge me. Give me a precise number by morning. Name and describe every ship, and transmit the roster to my vessel. Now, we shall take our leave.”

  The two Mogwa got up, and I felt a certain urgency overcome me. They were leaving too soon. I’d hoped to get them drunk or something. Their Marines were already crowding forward, their clanking machines crushing feet and ramming aside diners who took more than a half-second to get out of the way.

  “Uh…” I said, wondering if this was the moment.

  I have a good sense for these things. Opportunities are rare and fleeting when it comes to assassination. Right now, I had the element of surprise and proximity in my favor. The two Mogwa could be killed in a dozen ways. I could grab onto a Marine’s energy projector, for example, perhaps inducing him to fire through me and burn his masters in the same moment.

  But then I saw something. Nox… she had her nasty hands on her pouch again. The pouch was squirming on its own.

  I frowned. She’d brought her baby down here to the banquet? That seemed weird—but maybe it wasn’t for a Mogwa mother. Their babies never seemed to squall and carry on like a human child would have. If they didn’t represent a disruption to a social event, why not bring them along?

  In the end I stood, and I smiled, and I saluted and bowed. The Mogwa were ceremoniously led by their color guard out of the hall and upstairs to their shuttle.

  I tried to come up with a reason why I should accompany them aloft—but my mind was a blank. Nothing I could say would have worked on these two. I knew them both, and they’d sooner have taken a bag of dog turds up into space with them.

  -7-

  The night didn’t end with the Mogwa exit. Instead, it had only just begun for one bored, yawning James McGill.

  “It’s unbelievable,” Drusus said, pacing around in an elaborate pattern in his office. “The arrogance of these creatures—the sheer gall!”

  “Yes…” Old Alexander agreed. “They are even worse in person than I had imagined they could be. You once described Galactics to me, Centurion McGill, and I thought your judgment was too harsh. I now stand corrected. You were being kind.”

  “Six thousand lightyears?” Drusus demanded, throwing his hands high. “That’s insane. Our ships are built to go two thousand, round trip—twenty-five hundred if we push it. That’s enough to cross any of our borders into a neighboring province and conduct a lengthy campaign. We never planned to go on a voyage farther out than that.”

  “Hmm…” Alexander said. “Let’s project the range as described.”

  He brought up his shimmering map of the galaxy again, and we all stared at it, mesmerized.

  “Such a vast distance…” he said. “That would be approximately this far…”

  A sphere appeared. It was orange in color, and it stained space around the tiny green gem that was Earth. All of Province 921, 928, and 926 were encompassed in this sphere. It reached well beyond these familiar regions, however. It reached all the way into the Mid-Zone.

  Alexander turned to us. “Now, let us use deductive reasoning. Where do our friends hail from?”

  Drusus took over. He stepped up and drew an intersecting line that reached into the Mid-Zone stars. Not that many targets lit up. There were only a few hundred that were within reach.

  “What do we know of these stars?” Alexander asked.

  Drusus waved dismissively. “Almost nothing. We’ve never even dared to send probes out that far. Our knowledge ends just beyond the borders of Province 921. The Mid-Zone?” He scoffed. “You might as well ask a tropical shark what it knows about the Arctic Ocean.”

  Alexander ignored his bad attitude, and he made some cryptic notes. “I must take my leave of now. I will convene with my peers in Geneva. It’s morning over there, and they will want to stay apprised of these developments.”

  “Of course, Servant Turov. We thank you for your support and advice. Earth’s military won’t disappoint you.”

  It didn’t sound like Drusus meant it, but his words were well-chosen.

  Alexander, however, didn’t even look at him. He was staring at me.

  “Support…” he said. “Advice… and disappointment. These are powerful words. Opportunities have already been ignored. I hope—no, I pray—that we didn’t miss our best chance to guide events in our favor tonight.”

  I put on a dumb-ass expression, but he didn’t look like he was buying it. We both knew what old Alex was telling me—that I’d blown it. I’d let the Mogwa slip from our grasp.

  Both Alex and I were wondering if we’d ever get a second shot.

  When the old bastard had left us, I turned to see Drusus was looking at me funny.

  “What was that about, McGill?” he asked.

  “Huh? What was what about, Praetor?”

  “The Servant was looking at you, and he seemed disappointed.”

  I brightened. “Oh, that. Well sir… you might happen to know that Galina Turov is the Servant’s daughter, right?”

  “Yes, I knew that.”

  “Well sir, can you imagine being a daddy and learning that your little girl is spending way too much time with the likes of one James McGill?”

  Drusus blinked. My lie had been a good one—one of the best, because there was a grain of truth in it.

  “Oh… he mentioned disappointment… wasn’t that the word he used?”

  “I believe so.”

  That was good enough for Drusus. He soon forgot all about the weird moment between Old Alexander and me.

  Moving on, he began to plan in earnest. He worked numbers and charts, trying to figure out how to get Earth’s battlewagons to fly farther and longer than they’d ever been designed to do.

  Along about midnight, I snuck out of the place and made good on my escape. Yawning and thinking about finding a bunk somewhere, I received an urgent call on my tapper.

  I almost ignored it. My finger was hovering over the decline button—but I hesitated. The call was from Imperator Galina Turov.

  Grumbling, I answered the call. If I didn’t, I knew she’d hound me all damned night long. It was one thing to hide while I was living down in Waycross and furloughed—it was quite another to dodge the brass while working at Central in the lion’s den.

  “James? Where are you?”

  “Uh… Central, I think.”

  “I know that, you idiot. I mean why aren’t you here at my office?”

  Blinking in confusion, I noticed a slew of messages on my tapper. I’d been ignoring them as I’d been in an important meeting. That was a great excuse to dodge work, and I always played such cards to the fullest.

  But despite my best efforts, some vicious techno-deviltry had informed Galina that my meeting was over, and my time was up for grabs again. She’d pounced on the moment immediately.

  “I’m headed for a bunk, sir,” I told her. “I worked all last night, and—”

  “Sleep is for the dead, McGill,” she said, quoting a legion proverb. “Get to my office and drink some coffee. We’ve got a campaign to plan out.”

  Groaning aloud, I did a one-eighty in the corridor and headed to Galina’s office. She wasn’t running Legion Varus this year, she’d been promoted out of that role and now enjoyed a desk job. Unfortunately for her, she was still considered an eligible field commander due to her experience among the stars. A big mission like this would need a big staff to run it. Apparently, someone had decided to make her role official.

  Pouring a midnight coffee was a sad thing for a man like me. I liked midnight beers much better, but no one was interested in old McGill’s preferences tonight.

  The room wasn’t full-up, but there were several other officers present. Tribune Winslade was there, having been wrongfully awarded the command of my beloved Legion Varus after the Ice World campaign. Graves should have gotten the job, but justice was too lofty of a goal for the folks running Hegemony.

  Graves was there too, sitting at Winslade’s side. That wasn’t a surprise. He’d end up doing all the work and probably handling Winslade’s laundry, too.

  Turning my head in the other direction, I did a double-take.

  “Hey!” I boomed, pointing a big finger at a face I knew well. “What’s Primus Bob doing here? Isn’t he a hog who works for Drusus?”

  Turov had been fooling with her display settings, but she looked up to answer me.

  “That is a rude and pejorative statement, McGill. Primus Sweeney is now Sub-Tribune Sweeney. He’s been promoted by Drusus no less than hour ago.”

  “Uh… why?”

  She glared at me. The question was legit, but I could tell she didn’t want to answer it. “Everyone needs field experience at some point. This mission—ill-defined and grandiose as it seems to be—will serve as the perfect training ground for an officer such as Bob, here.”

  I stared at him, marveling. He looked too shell-shocked to be angry. I wondered if being reassigned to running a zoo legion on a dangerous mission into the unknown had left old Bob without much to say.

  “Sub-Tribune Robert Sweeney…” I said, marveling and staring at him. “Have you bought yourself some nose-plugs yet, Bob? You might find them useful when you mount up and ride in the belly of Dominus.”

  “That’s enough, McGill. Sweeney, I apologize for the crude manners of your legionnaire brothers. They have a unique way of welcoming newcomers.”

  “That’s all right, Imperator,” Bob said. “I’m sure we’ll all come to respect each other in time.”

  Galina began the briefing then, going on about using tight storage supplies economically, transmitting supplies via gateway posts, waste management and everything else from food to water tanks. I was bored immediately, and I tuned out all the nerd-stuff.

  All the while she talked, something was bothering me. I wasn’t sure what it was until…

  Slam! My open hand crashed down on the table, making everything and everyone jump.

  “Wait a minute!” I shouted. I pointed at Bob accusingly. “Wait just a damned minute. I thought Hegemony had gotten rid of the whole sub-primus and sub-tribune bullshit. Hasn’t Bob here rightfully earned the rank of a full tribune?”

  Galina folded up her face and her arms. She glared at me. “No, McGill. That’s all changed again. After the shocking events of last year—some of which you participated in personally, I might add—Hegemony reinstated the Sub-ranks for the time being. That was announced months ago. You really should do more reading, James.”

  “Yeah… I guess so. Was this change due to the evil of that traitor-squid, Tribune Foam?”

  Galina showed me her small white teeth in a line. “The events of the past year did affect their decision. Tribunes Fike and Foam were both posthumously stripped of their ranks, by the way.”

  “Uh… really? That’s only right, I suppose.”

  “If you’re done with making loud outbursts, can I proceed with the briefing now?”

  “Sure thing, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

  Galina went on then, and I tuned her out promptly. The whole meeting seemed to be about planning to fly Earth’s fleet out farther and faster than our ships had been designed to do. That was reasonable, and planning was certainly needed for any new campaign, but I still considered it nerd-work. Give me a tactical battle map, and you’re much more likely to hold my attention.

  Along about one in the morning, I managed to sneak off to the bathroom. I promptly fell asleep sitting on the toilet. I wasn’t bare-assed or anything, just bone-tired and bored shitless by all-day meetings.

  The door rattled eventually, and I snorted awake. A small fist pounded on the door a moment later.

  I snatched it open, spreading my eyes as wide as I could. I smiled down at Galina, who was looking cross for some reason.

  “Uh… sorry sir, but I might have spoiled your bathroom. You’d best leave the door shut and run the fan on for a while… just saying.”

  I stepped out and pulled the door shut behind me.

  Looking around, I noticed her office and conference room were empty. “Uh… where’d everyone go?”

  “I dismissed them, James. How long were you in there?”

  “I’m not rightly sure. I must have lost track of time, what with it being after midnight and all.”

  She studied me while I made a show of washing my hands and toweling them off. I finally noticed that she wasn’t talking, but she was staring.

  “What seems to be the trouble, sir?” I asked finally.

  “Why did you fail us tonight? How could you underperform so spectacularly the one time Earth truly needed your crude talents?”

  “Uh…” I said, uncertain as to what the hell she was talking about. “Are we still talking about me being rude to our new zoo-keeper? I’m sorry about that. Primus Bob will command his Blood Worlders with vigor and style, I’m certain of it.”

  Galina stepped one pace closer. She looked intense and kind of worked up about something. When she spoke, it was in a low tone. I got the feeling she didn’t want to chance anyone else overhearing her words—even though no one else was in her offices but us. Hell, I suspected the entire floor had emptied out by now.

  “No, James… No, that’s not it at all. I’m asking why you didn’t take action and end all this when you had the opportunity. I assured my father you would do so if asked properly—but you failed to perform. You not only embarrassed me, you let down all of Earth.”

  “Huh? Are we still talking about Bob, here?”

  “No! We’re not talking about Bob! We’re talking about you having the perfect opportunity to assassinate Sateekas and Nox at dinner.”

  “Oh… I was supposed to do that? So soon? How could I have pulled it off? They had the place crawling with their marines in those weird suits of walking armor.”

  “So what? Mogwa are weak and almost helpless. You didn’t even need a weapon. All you had to do was knock their heads together or something.”

  What she was saying was undoubtedly true. The Mogwa were from a relatively low-gravity world. Their bones were thin and light. One good crack and they’d have flopped dead.