Maddox cracked his knuckles. He had what he had. He was supposed to be the di-far. It was time to make the trait work for him out here.

  One problem at a time: that was what he’d said earlier. He needed information about the deep desert. How could he get Ophir to give him what he wanted?

  Maddox quickened his pace. It was time to find out.

  -46-

  Maddox was in the control cabin. It felt much like being in a spaceship, except land and drifting clouds were far below.

  The dirigibles flew high indeed. It wasn’t at the limit of their lighter-than-air altitude, but it was getting pretty damn close.

  Gallant Ophir sat in the captain’s swivel chair in the center of the bridge. He wore his red robes, ruby rings and red eye shadow. Mara stood at his elbow.

  Around him at various controls stood the bridge crew. None of them had seats.

  Maddox wouldn’t have designed the bridge that way, but those of the north had.

  Before them and lower down than Maddox had anticipated was a huge almost yawning window. It offered a panoramic view of the world below.

  Presently, the world showed endless sand. Far off in the distance was a low-level jungle. Maddox spied an even farther-away river. That river must feed the jungle, allowing it to grow in the dreadful heat of mid-planet.

  “Gallant,” an officer said.

  Ophir looked up and saw the direction of the officer’s gaze. He swiveled the seat toward Maddox.

  “What brings you to the bridge?” Ophir asked.

  “I’ve refined the location of the ancient weapon site,” Maddox said.

  Ophir looked at Mara.

  She remained silent.

  “I forgot,” Ophir said. “You can’t read his thoughts. You’re a troublesome fellow, Maddox. Come stand over here.”

  Maddox dipped his head and did just that.

  “Quite the view, eh?” asked Ophir.

  “It’s breathtaking,” Maddox agreed.

  “I’ve only done this one other time,” Ophir said. “I don’t see how the legions dare to cross a world in this, but I see the allure of it.”

  “Should I give the new coordinates to your chief officer?” Maddox asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Ophir said. “You’re acting almost meekly. That isn’t in character, is it, Mara?”

  “No, Gallant,” she said.

  “Why are you doing that?” Ophir asked.

  “Trying to get along,” Maddox said.

  Ophir snorted. “The way you spoke to Shofet Zadoury at council—I got the feeling you enjoy being a prick. You’re certainly a natural at it.”

  “As are you,” Maddox said.

  Ophir frowned. “Mara, get my guard. Tell Felix to send three of my best to the bridge.”

  Mara hurried away.

  “Tit for tat,” Maddox said softly.

  “I’ll tat your tit,” Ophir muttered. “I’ll only accept so much cheek from you. Then,” he made a slicing motion across his throat.

  “You don’t want Grandma living too long, eh?” asked Maddox.

  Ophir’s red-painted eyes seemed to glitter with malice. “You play a dangerous game, Captain.”

  “Only the one I’m forced to play.”

  “Are you crying about your state? I didn’t think you capable of that. Do you resent the Honey Men?”

  “I do.”

  “Because of what we did to Gricks and Eddings?” asked Ophir.

  “Partly, yes.”

  Ophir nodded. “We don’t waste flesh in the Highlands, even that of our defeated enemies. It’s an old way but a good one. The legions send raiders. We defeat them and turn the men into hard workers. It’s an elegant system. The gelding ensures they’re gentled for proper use.”

  Maddox said nothing.

  “About the new heading,” Ophir said. “Tell me about it.”

  Maddox did.

  Ophir snapped his fingers. The chief bridge officer hurried to him. Ophir discussed the new heading with him. Soon, Ophir dismissed Maddox, not allowing him the opportunity to learn about the mid-world people or lack thereof.

  Maddox returned to his quarters and spoke with Dravek. Then, he went next door and spoke with the others.

  Hern was absent. Gricks said the Primus had gone to exercise.

  Eddings lay in bed with the covers completely over him. When Maddox called his name, Eddings lowered the covers enough to reveal the top of his head and eyes.

  “What do you know about the mid-world deserts?” Maddox asked.

  Eddings pulled the covers back over his eyes and head. “Nothing,” he said in a dull voice.

  Maddox glanced at Gricks. Gricks looked away.

  “Come with me, Centurion,” Maddox said.

  “Is that an order?” Gricks asked.

  “Yes.”

  The two walked out of the cabin into the narrow corridor.

  Gricks kept his hands in his pockets and looked down, with his head hunched as if he’d aged fifty years.

  Maddox walked beside him.

  Gricks said nothing, just dutifully went where Maddox did.

  This is one of the men I’m counting on, Maddox asked himself. Gricks was afraid of his own shadow. The Highlanders had broken his spirit. Why hadn’t he seen this before? It was probably because he hadn’t wanted to see it.

  “Centurion—”

  Gricks hunched his shoulders more.

  Maddox noticed. Maybe it was time to grab the bull by the horns. “Don’t you want me calling you centurion?”

  “Call me what you like,” Gricks muttered.

  “Centurion Gricks is what I want to call you.”

  Gricks said nothing to that.

  “Does the old title bother you?” Maddox asked.

  “Maybe, as I’m no longer a centurion.”

  “Because the Honey Men defeated your cohort?” asked Maddox.

  “Partly, but more…” Gricks squeezed his eyes closed.

  The Honey Men had gelded the men only a short time ago. The incident must have burned in Gricks’ mind, seared his spirit. If the Honey Men meant to break legionnaires by it, they’d picked an effective practice.

  “What if they’d hacked off one of your hands instead?” Maddox asked suddenly.

  Gricks shook his head.

  “Would that make you less than a man?” Maddox asked.

  Gricks raised a hand, looking at it, nodding afterward.

  “I read about a one-armed admiral once who won one of the greatest sea battles in history,” Maddox said. “His name was Lord Nelson. He won more than the Battle of Trafalgar. He died on his warship Victory that day. My starship was named after his sailing ship. Lord Nelson inspired his captains and sailors. His lack of an arm didn’t hinder him from greatness.”

  “Losing his testicles might have done that,” Gricks whispered.

  “Maybe,” Maddox said. “Except, I remember reading once about a general named Narses. He was a eunuch, had been castrated in his youth. He defeated barbarian Gothic warriors at the Battle of Taginae. It was a turning point battle fought with swords, bows and lances. Narses’ genius and military ability is what helped the Byzantines take back Italy from the German barbarians.”

  Gricks looked up at Maddox. “You’re making that up.”

  “Not in the least,” Maddox said. “Look, you suffered a traumatic event. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. The Honey Men did it in the most demeaning way they could. They did that for a reason. They meant to break all your spirits, making you docile slaves. Yes, it was evil and vilely done. I imagine they mocked you during the procedure, and I imagine the work guards with the electric whips have driven the lesson home.”

  Gricks barely nodded, his eyes staring almost as if he was on the verge of tears.

  Maddox clapped Gricks on the shoulder.

  The centurion flinched and whimpered.

  “You were a centurion, Gricks. Your men fought hard. I admit the ordeal you underwent would have shaken me to the core. It would do more than sting. It would strike at the core of my manhood. That’s a critical concept to a man. But because the Honey Men did that, it didn’t change you from a man into a thing. You’re still Centurion Gricks. You can let this destroy you, and in a way, I can hardly blame you for it. Or—are you listening to me?”

  Gricks barely nodded.

  “Look at me, Centurion.”

  Gricks did, his eyes immediately darting away.

  Maddox clapped him on the shoulder for a second time. For a second time, Gricks trembled and whimpered.

  “This is the hardest blow you’ve ever taken,” Maddox said. “It’s likely you’re never taken a worse hit. You can go down in your heart and admit defeat forever. Eddings is doing that. He’s given up completely. Or you can crawl your way back to manhood and resolve. You can work to regain your dignity. You can fight against the Honey Men who did this to you. It will take time. It will take resolve. Mostly, it will take desire. Don’t mark yourself in your heart by the gelding.”

  Gricks’ head whipped about until he stared at Maddox.

  “Yes. I said it. I named it. I suggest you say it.”

  Gricks swallowed hard.

  “Say it and you’ll know your foe,” Maddox said.

  Gricks mouthed the word, “Gelding.”

  “Good work,” Maddox said, clapping Gricks on the shoulder for the third time.

  Gricks flinched, but he didn’t whimper this time.

  “I need a soldier, Centurion Gricks. I need a man who can hold a gun or rifle and shoot straight enough to kill.”

  Gricks was staring at him.

  “I need someone who can hold his ground even if terror shakes him. If you need, think of what happened and determine in your heart to die fighting this time. I call it a second chance. I’m giving you a second chance. Do you want to at least try?”

  Gricks swallowed again, and he nodded.

  “I need to hear you say it, Centurion.”

  “Yes,” Gricks whispered. “I want a second chance.”

  “Good, excellent,” Maddox said.

  Gricks stopped and looked at Maddox. Gricks’ eyes darted away, but the centurion forced them back until he stared Maddox in the eye. It didn’t last.

  “There you go,” Maddox said. “The training has started. I expect Centurion Gricks to show up when I need him in the desert.”

  “A second chance?” asked Gricks.

  “It’s yours for the taking. Let’s see what happens, eh?’

  “Yes,” Gricks whispered. “Yes.”

  -47-

  A day later, the dirigibles battled against strong upper winds, causing shaking now and again. Despite that, the dirigibles continued toward the heading Maddox had given.

  Meanwhile, Maddox walked the corridors, stretching his legs. When he returned to his cabin, he noticed the other door was open a crack. He ignored it, reaching for the handle to his quarters.

  The other door opened and Gricks stepped out. “Captain, sir, Eddings said he’s ready to talk to you. If you’ll come in, sir, the lights are low. Eddings doesn’t like it bright. He doesn’t want to see too much. I know that might not make much sense—”

  “That’s fine,” Maddox said, interrupting.

  Gricks nodded. “Hern is out exercising. He hates Eddings, bullying him most of the time. I stood up for Eddings this morning and Hern backed off. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you are right.”

  Gricks must have realized he was clutching Maddox’s hand and babbling. Gricks let go as if electricity had surged from Maddox.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Not at all,” Maddox said. “It’s good to see you’re recovering. I knew it was in you.”

  Gricks stood a little taller, and he ushered Maddox into the room.

  Eddings’ covers had been down, revealing the sub-centurion’s head. Upon seeing Maddox, Eddings whipped the covers back over his head.

  “Eddings, it’s Captain Maddox,” Gricks said. “It’s okay.”

  “Okay?” Eddings said in a defeated voice.

  “I told him you were willing to tell him what you knew about the desert, what you’d learned.”

  “I thought I could do this,” Eddings whimpered. “But I can’t.”

  “Sir,” Gricks told Maddox, “Eddings was an assistant in the main library at the spaceport. He worked for the off-worlders. He read some of the secret accounts of the worst legion disasters.”

  “Sounds interesting,” Maddox said. “Eddings, if you care to tell me I’d appreciate it, but it’s up to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Eddings said. “It’s too hard to talk to you. You’re not like us.”

  “Now, now,” Maddox said, “we’re in the same boat, the same airship. You’re one of mine, as I’m your commanding officer. That’s the only difference that counts. The rest is meaningless.”

  The covers came down and Eddings looked at Maddox before whipping the covers back up. “Do you mean that, sir?”

  “I do. On my honor,” Maddox said.

  “All right,” Eddings said, with the covers still over his head. “I’ll tell you, but I think there’s only one disaster that fits what you want to know. Gricks says you want to know about the desert people, right?”

  “Yes,” Maddox said, moving closer. On inspiration, he sat down against Eddings’ cot. “Talk when you’re ready. I’m all ears. I can wait.”

  Maddox folded his hands and closed his eyes, leaning back against the cot.

  Ten minutes passed, with Gricks clearing his throat three different times.

  Finally, Eddings began talking about a legion disaster as the dirigibles headed south. A storm had blown three dirigibles off course, so they used a different route. All legion dirigibles used a proscribed route—for reasons Eddings hadn’t learned. These three had used the Marin Lowland Equatorial Bridge, crossing a highly radiated region.

  “One dirigible went down from engine failure,” Eddings said. “Some suspect that was from the radiation. Two were hit with rocket fire. One dirigible exploded midair but the other made an emergency landing on the equatorial desert bridge. I know because there were three survivors from it. The survivors told of the deep desert tribes, Metamorphs with horrible leathery skin and tusks growing out of their mouths. The Metamorphs caught most of the legionnaires, taking them underground during the day, only moving at night.

  “The radiation is bad there,” Eddings continued. “Maybe the ozone isn’t as thick in the equatorial regions. The sun blazes hellishly, the temperature reaching one hundred and fifty degrees. The sun scorches the desert as fierce winds howl all day long. Sun and wind turn each grain of sand hard like diamonds. Some of the grains scintillate in the sunlight, causing monochromic colors to shine. Storms and lightning surge across the land at other times. Everything hunkers down then. The few plants are low, often hidden in shadows. Lizards come out at night, and insects, some larger than you would expect. They all scavenge. Anything that dies in the desert has its bones bleached white by the terrible sun and howling wind.”

  “The legion captives,” Maddox said softly. “You were speaking about them?”

  “Yes. The Metamorphs caught them. I guess you’d call the Metamorphs cannibals. They must have been human once, but they’re not like you and me anymore. They’re huge and powerful, more like Hern, but even more so, and taller than you, Captain. Not as tall as the giants that, that—”

  Eddings sobbed silently.

  Maddox waited, knowing the sobs were therapeutic.

  Eventually, Eddings began to talk again. “The Metamorphs brought the legionnaires into their subterranean larders. They strapped the men onto boards and shoved feeding tubes down their throats. They poured an oily feed into them until over the months the captives became grotesquely fat. The Metamorphs cooked the unfortunates in their own fat, feasting upon the flesh.”

  Maddox scowled.

  “The deep deserts are horrible, Captain. I think some Metamorphs live closer to the Highlands. Some of those have tasted the honey. Some of those Metamorphs are longer-lived than average. Others have developed a telepathic gestalt power. At least that was what one special report I read said. I wasn’t supposed to have read it. You won’t tell on me, will you, sir?”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. These Metamorphs have learned from their captives. They’ve learned to steal vehicles and trade with others. There are outposts at the fringes of the pole regions. Some caravans cross to some of the nearer lower jungles. The Metamorph cannibals attack and take captives, increasing their meat herds. If they don’t have enough regular people, they feed off their own. They’re vicious and ugly.”

  “What sort of weapons do the Metamorphs possess?”

  “Every kind of weapon we have: heavy machine guns to the spring rifles cheap tribunes hand out to their troops.”

  Eddings suppressed a sniffle. “I suppose the tribunes figure the legions are going to die anyway. Why arm them with superior gear. I was a fool to have come on the raid, wasn’t I, Captain?”

  “Not a fool,” Maddox said. “I’m going to see that you’re well compensated for all this.”

  The covers came down just enough, so Eddings peered at Maddox in the dim lighting. He looked a little longer this time. Then the covers went back up.

  “I know you’re different, Captain Maddox. Gricks told me what you did to get us out of field labor. You’re different from others. But, sir, this ancient weapon site, do you think it’s really there?”

  “I do,” Maddox said.

  Eddings was silent, until… “I think the mind fusion Metamorphs search for these weapons, too. They might even have some powerful armaments. Those Metamorphs might be deadly and might try to bring us down if we fly over their territory.”

  “What else can you tell me about the Metamorphs?”

  “There’s not much more, sir. They live in a desolate and deadly land. Most everything is done by moonlight. Anyone caught in the searing sun—they say Yellow Tusks survived the sun. He leads the mind fusion Metamorphs.”

  Maddox became thoughtful. His intuitive sense told him… “You have a touch of psi ability, don’t you, Eddings?”