The two Mogwa, taken totally by surprise, just sat there and looked stunned.

  I stepped behind the assassins and chunked my knife into one man’s neck. The other guy caught three rounds in the back of the skull.

  The man I’d shot went down fast. He didn’t even have time to fire his rifle. The man I’d knifed squeezed the trigger and a wild spray of power-bolts flew all around the dining room. Drusus was hit, and he went down, spinning. Three other officers, two tribunes and a primus, died as well.

  The fish tanks took the worst of it. Big glass sheets shattered, and sludgy purple-blue liquid gushed out. Fake fish flopped rhythmically on the deck, looking even more real than they had in the water.

  I pulled my knife out of the second man’s neck, and I gave him a shove with my boot. Graves walked up to me, staring at the horrific scene.

  “McGill? What have you done, man?”

  I pointed at Sateekas and Nox. “I’ve saved a family, sir.”

  Graves formed a tight line with his mouth. He didn’t answer, but instead called for security and medics.

  Wading through the confusion, the flapping fish, and the human bodies, I stepped up to the table. The two Mogwa stared at me.

  “Where did our security detail go?” Sateekas demanded.

  Nox was hunkering low. She eyed the scene warily. “I thought they were in the passageway—but I don’t see anyone. Not a single marine.”

  That’s when I got the idea that their bodyguards had been purposefully waylaid somehow. Thinking hard, I rubbed at my stubbly chin with the back of my pistol.

  The Mogwa eyed me as I did this.

  Nox spoke first. “I told you we should never have come here. These beasts are too feral. Too full of themselves. Troops of this nature will always buck the collar. Just transporting them into the Mid-Zone is a violation of Imperial Law.

  “No it isn’t,” Sateekas said.

  “Well, it should be. What if our offspring had been hit? We don’t have duplication facilities for someone so young. We might have lost him.”

  “Yes, yes,” Sateekas said impatiently. “You there, McGill-creature.”

  “Yessir?”

  “How did you know to strike? How did you spot these assassins?”

  I shrugged. “Just dumb luck, sir. I stepped outside to take a piss, as I said earlier, and I saw these two come in with rifles. I’m sure they’re just some unpaid slackers who have a grievance over their paychecks or something.”

  “A grievance? Paychecks? Absurdities. You’re deadly, but hopelessly naive. I suspect these men were paid handsomely to kill my wife and I.”

  “Uh… I guess that could be. But how would the Skay pay humans to attack you on one of our own warships?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” I walked over to the two dead men, and I made a quick circular slash with my knife on their arms. Then I dragged the bodies closer to the Mogwa.

  Nox shrank back from the dead, but Sateekas was braver. He leaned forward.

  “See here?” I made a show of cutting away their uniform sleeves. I displayed the circular cuts I’d just made. “That bloody circle is a marker. A symbol of their loyalty to the Skay.”

  “What new outrage is this?” Sateekas demanded.

  I managed to pretend I was surprised. “What? Haven’t you heard? Skay agents are infiltrating Province 921. After you guys pulled out our battle fleet, they’ve been causing all kinds of trouble.”

  Sateekas looked intrigued, but Nox looked suspicious. Sometimes, I suspected she was the brains of the outfit.

  “Why would they cut at their own skins like that?” she asked.

  “To show their loyalty to the enemy AI. They aren’t even human, not really. Skay sympathizers must be hunted down and exterminated. Every last one of them.”

  Nox looked around at the crowd. Armed humans were everywhere. She put three hands on Sateekas, who had begun demanding an inquiry.

  “Our marines are almost here. We must return to our ship.”

  At last, he listened to reason. The other officers were cleaning up the place. Most seemed to be baffled by the events of the evening, but a few like Graves—they were glaring at me.

  The Mogwa Marines arrived and encircled their masters. They marched them off our decks in a tight security circle. I waved after them, but they didn’t wave back.

  When they’d gone, Galina appeared again. She’d been lurking somewhere, and she’d waited until it was safe to reappear.

  Her knuckles rapped me on the chest. “Did you actually kill my men? Why’d you interfere?”

  “Well sir, I had no idea you were planning anything dramatic. I went out to take a piss, see—”

  “And when you saw two armed men walk into the restaurant, you killed them without asking any questions?”

  “They pulled out weapons, Galina. Should I have let them shoot everyone?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe it. You’re an imbecile, just as my father always said you were.”

  “I can’t argue with you there.”

  “This will be so much harder now. They’re onto us. We may never get another shot.”

  I shrugged helplessly. She stalked away, and I got the feeling that all chances of a fine evening spent in her apartments had evaporated.

  Graves approached me when she and the Mogwa had left. “You really stepped on your dick this time, McGill.”

  “How so, sir?”

  He gestured after the others. “Half the Fleet is plotting to kill the Mogwa and throw them overboard. The rest of them want to do it—but they’re chicken. Only you seem to be sweet on them. Why is that?”

  “Well sir, we swore an oath of allegiance to the Empire. It doesn’t seem right to backstab them when they come to ask for help.”

  He eyed me. I was using his own brand of logic on him because I knew it was the only thing that might be effective.

  “I get that sentiment, as uncharacteristic as it seems for you but, McGill, these people didn’t ask for our help, they demanded it. What’s more, they aren’t from the Core Systems. They’re outcasts from the Mid-Zone.”

  “Yeah… but they’re still technically Galactics, right?”

  “They’re Mogwa, but they aren’t the important kind. The truth is that I don’t know how they rank in the Empire’s hierarchy.”

  Throwing my hands high, I felt I’d made my point. “Don’t you think we ought to know details like that before we go and execute guests while they’re enjoying a banquet in their honor? Huh?”

  Shaking his head, Graves muttered that he didn’t know what to think. He retreated, and he left me alone after that.

  Pretty much everyone else did the same.

  -12-

  I was pronounced a pariah after that night. No one wanted to be seen with me—much less share my bunk. Galina wouldn’t answer my texts, and Kivi wouldn’t even look me in the eye. I was an outcast.

  For a few days, it was sweet bliss. Sure, the brass was pissed. Sure, Kivi figured I’d pulled a fast one on her, and Galina was flat-out enraged after I’d blown our best shot at killing the Mogwa—but I didn’t much care.

  To pass the time, I worked with my troops. We drilled and practiced and cleaned our kits. By the second day, I’d pretty much forgotten all about the Mogwa and assassinations and dinner parties full of screaming guests.

  When someone finally did contact me about the situation, four solid days had passed. The call came through on my tapper, and at the time I was leading 3rd Unit in some heavy PT.

  Physical training wasn’t easy to arrange on most transports, but Dominus had huge decks and wide corridors. These advanced accommodations were due in part to the fact the ship had been designed to support near-humans from Blood World. They were big folk, some of them three times the height of a man.

  Left with plenty of room to maneuver on the oversized decks, we used the passageways as jogging paths. It was a common sight to see troops trotting all over the ship. I made sure that 3rd Unit never missed our slot of running time.

  When the fateful call came in on my tapper, we were nearly finished with our daily run. Puffing, I lifted my tapper and eyed it. The thing kept buzzing, even when I shook it.

  “Is it Primus Graves?” Harris asked. He’d caught up with me just to snoop, apparently.

  I lowered my arm. “Looks like it. I’ll take the call when we get back to the module.”

  “It’s your funeral, Centurion.”

  Harris fell back. My tapper continued to buzz for a while, but it finally stopped. I felt some level of relief, as I didn’t feel like getting reamed right now. The run was a good one, and we’d almost completed it.

  Then my tapper began buzzing again. I winced. After the third ring, I glanced at the name. It wasn’t Graves this time. It was Imperator Turov.

  Gritting my teeth, I decided to let this one go, too. Damnation, couldn’t these people check my logged itinerary? I was in the middle of an exercise routine, and Dominus was nowhere near enemy space, and—

  “McGill? What is this? Are you swinging your arm around on purpose? You’re making me ill.”

  Lifting my arm to my face, I faked a surprised grin. “Imperator? Did you just force a call through? We’re on the last leg of a 5K run, sir, and—”

  “Shut up and stop running.”

  Suppressing an urge to grumble and curse, I stepped out of the formation. I ordered Harris to lead the troops to the finish line. He gave me a wave and a grin, and I gave him the finger.

  “What’s up, sir?” I asked, breathing hard.

  “You are. You’ve been given a second chance by providence.”

  “Uh… what?”

  “The Mogwa want to see you aboard their warship. They’ve ordered us to transport you to their battlecruiser—only you.”

  I thought that over for a second, and I found I didn’t like the sound of it. “All right, I’ll head down to the docks and catch a shuttle to their—”

  “You’ll do no such thing—not yet, anyway. You’re to report to Blue Deck first. You must be properly fitted.”

  “Huh?” I said in confusion, but she was gone.

  Lowering my tapper, my mind worked on the problem. I thought I knew what she was hinting at—and I didn’t like it.

  The last time I’d been “fitted” before meeting an important alien, the alien had been Squanto, and I’d been fitted with an internal bomb by Claver.

  Could this be the plan today with a couple of different players mixed in?

  Compressing my lips tightly, I came to a fateful decision. I didn’t feel like dying in a fireball to kill a few Mogwa. Not today.

  Although I’d been running for an hour, I picked up the pace and ran some more. When I reached the lifts, I didn’t head to Blue Deck as ordered. Instead, I shot right past that profane place and reached the shuttle bay instead.

  Clamping a helmet into place, I switched on my magnetics and marched out onto the flight deck like I owned the place. Walking to the first shuttle I saw, I climbed into the cockpit, startling the pilot.

  “Centurion? What are you doing aboard my bird?”

  Ignoring her, I tapped at my tapper. I called Sateekas directly. I wasn’t even surprised when he answered immediately.

  “McGill? What is it? What’s the delay? I can’t abide delays.”

  Tilting my tapper toward the pilot, I let her see the Mogwa’s face. Her eyes flew wide.

  “Sateekas, sir?” I said. “Could you help me out? This pilot doesn’t know what her orders are. She’s confused.”

  His weird, numerous eyes scowled in unison at the pilot. “Human debris. You are a poor slave if you would dare question the McGill-creature. Transport him to my ship immediately, or face immediate expungement.”

  The pilot swallowed hard. “We’ll be right there, sir.”

  Satisfied, the Mogwa cut the channel, and I smiled at the pilot. She wasn’t half-bad looking, but she seemed kind of freaked out about something.

  “Let’s fly,” I said. “The Mogwa hate waiting.”

  “We don’t have clearance to fly anywhere, sir,” the pilot protested.

  I shrugged. “Okay…” I said, making a show out of working my tapper again. “I’ll just have to tell Sateekas he can’t have his way today. What’s your nametag say…? Lt. Patel? Don’t worry, somebody will take care of sending your scraps home to your momma—if there are any scraps left.”

  After seething and cursing for several seconds, Lt. Patel contacted traffic control and requested emergency clearance to lift off. It was granted after a few complaints, questions and lies on her part. She said something about her engine overloading and being worried her ship would blow up inside Dominus’ guts. That worked. They lowered the big bay doors, and we flew out into space, sliding sideways a bit with too much acceleration.

  Once outside, we were bombarded by serious radiation. The ship was tiny, and the cockpit had some lead-lined shielding, but there was no doubt we’d gotten a dose.

  The trouble was we were in a warp bubble, and we were crossing over to another ship inside the same bubble. That was a dangerous thing to do under any circumstances—but Lt. Patel made it look easy.

  I grinned at her as I climbed out of the ship onto the Mogwa flagship’s shuttle deck. “Hey, I need you to sit here and wait for a bit, okay?”

  “Why not? I won’t live beyond a week with that dose of rads we just got. I’m not in any hurry.”

  “Such pessimism. We’ll be fine… probably.”

  I left her in a sour mood and marched across the deck plates. I took a small passageway and followed it until it led to a bigger one. Repeating this process, I soon located the main passage that interconnected with all the others. After several more minutes, I found the bridge.

  Countless Mogwa Marines swarmed me when as I entered. They took my weapons and ran wands all over me—this would have been a fun moment to blow myself up if I’d been wired—but I wasn’t.

  Sateekas and Nox were nowhere to be seen. They stayed clear of the bridge until I’d been poked and prodded thoroughly. I realized right then that Galina’s cheesy plan to turn me into a human bomb had been doomed to failure. There was no way the Mogwa were going to let me get that close without a thorough examination. They were way too paranoid for that—especially after recent events.

  At last, Sateekas appeared alone. He seemed concerned, but I sensed he was willing to give me a chance.

  “McGill? Is this the real, actual McGill-creature?

  “I’m the one and only, sir.”

  “Hmm…” he had a few medical types show him data from a biochemical scan they took of me. At last, he seemed convinced. “My apologies for your poor reception. We’ve had to take precautions due to the irreversible bloodlust inherent in your species.”

  “I completely understand, sir. What are your orders?”

  “You will listen, and then you will obey. Your Fleet officers and legion tribunes must all swear personal allegiance to me. Their mates and offspring will be transported to this ship to be kept as hostages. Upon the conclusion of this glorious campaign, the chattel will be returned.”

  “Uh…”

  “Further,” the Mogwa went on, “the criminal known as Drusus will be deposed. He will no longer command this mission.”

  I blinked a few times. “Who will command in his stead, sir?”

  He shuffled closer. “Me, of course. How can a being so large and seemingly functional be so great a fool?”

  “People have been asking me that my whole life, your worship. But say… can I make a suggestion?”

  “The very concept is offensive, but I will allow it. Consider it a gift for having defended my person during the banquet.”

  “Very generous, sir. My suggestion is this: if you could only tell us a bit more about the mission, we’d probably feel better about it and become more willing to accept your orders.”

  “This should not be necessary! Mogwa do not explain themselves to slaves!”

  “I know that, sir. I know it oh so well. But… we’re kind of out of our territory, here. My leadership—the humans, I mean—they aren’t certain about your legitimacy.”

  “My legitimacy?” Sateekas boomed indignantly. “Who dares question my celebrated authority?”

  “Uh… no offense, but you said yourself that you were from the Mid-Zone. Doesn’t that make you a different breed when compared to the Mogwa from Trantor?”

  Sateekas looked like his head might explode. He sputtered and walked around for a bit, but at last, he deflated a little and made a sad blatting noise.

  “I see it all now. My status has leaked out—even to the humans. Yes, we were exiles. Nox and I now live on a planet full of exiles, and no one on Trantor cares about us. They think almost as little of Segin as they do of your world. What’s the name the name of it again? Dirt?”

  “Earth, sir. We call it Earth.”

  He flapped a limb. “Whatever. Segin is a separatist colony world. Ninety percent of the Mogwa populace live on Trantor, but not all of them do. There are splinter groups, those who fell out of favor, who eschewed orthodoxy. Segin is one of those unfortunate enclaves.”

  “Huh…” I said, thinking hard. “So after falling out of favor on Trantor, they sent you to Segin?”

  “Yes, we were cast out and sentenced to live in abject solitude. Segin has barely twelve billion souls living upon it—a pitiful few. The single-city colony apes Mogwa Prime, but it only covers a fraction of the surface of the planet. It’s an embarrassment, really, but pleasant enough by Mogwa standards. Standing in the midst of the place, you can almost believe you are in a true hive of activity.”

  “Doesn’t sound all that bad…”

  Sateekas snorted wetly. “The Mogwa who were born there would agree with you. Raised in obscurity, they don’t find their lives to be depressing. They’ve never slithered on the walkways of the one true city.”

  “Hmm, that all sounds well and good, sir,” I said, “but I still don’t know why you need Earth’s help. Why do you need a fleet and an army? You aren’t planning to invade Trantor, are you?”