by B. V. Larson
Fortunately for both her and me, her request was one I was practically born and bred to perform.
“What happened?” I asked. “Did that fool Winslade blow up the air car?”
Big hands grabbed my arms and pulled me off the gurney. I stood, but weakly. My freshly regrown legs weren’t quite ready to hold my weight yet. I swayed, leaning even more than I needed to against the orderlies that propped me up.
“McGill?” another voice asked.
This time, I could see the blurry shape of the speaker. It was Equestrian Drusus, a smaller man with a regal bearing.
Not so long ago, he’d briefly been placed in charge of all Earth’s defenses during the war with the Cephalopod Kingdom. Politics and jealousy had not thwarted his authority, and now he was one step above Turov in rank.
Squinting and rubbing at my eyes determinedly, I managed to see the three gold sunbursts on Drusus’ shoulders.
Standing at his side with her arms crossed under her perky bosom, stood an angry-looking Galina Turov. She had only two sunbursts on her epaulets, and that’s why she wanted me to say nothing about what Winslade had offered back in that ill-fated air car.
“Ah,” I said, peering at her. “There you are. I seem to have a hangover this morning.”
“It’s midday,” Turov snapped.
I looked around at the two of them. “You left me dead for a while, huh? Why’s that?”
“We were weighing our options,” Turov said.
“That’s not exactly true,” Drusus said. “We had to investigate the cause of the crash before we revived each of you separately.”
“What’d the report say?” I asked in a conversational tone.
They narrowed their eyes at me. You have to understand that I had a certain reputation—well-deserved—of being a troublemaker.
“It was inconclusive,” Turov said. “You tell us what happened.”
“Well…” I said thoughtfully, formulating my lie.
Clearly, Turov didn’t want me talking about how I was being offered a bribe to refuse Drusus’ mission—whatever it was about. Many men in my position would have told the truth anyway—but that just wasn’t my way. I tended to hold the truth in a vaunted position in my mind, as if it was some kind of lofty goal, a regal thing beyond the ken of mortal man.
Instead, I smiled at them. “Winslade said something about coming down to pick me up and bring me to Central,” I said. “I don’t know why. Why don’t you revive him and ask about it?”
“We’ll do that in good time,” Drusus said. “But you must excuse me, McGill. I’m having trouble believing that this violent event was an accident. How exactly did you end up burnt to ash in a Georgia forest?”
“Well, I do live down there,” I said. “And I already told you why I was in the air car. The only mystery to me is why it crashed. Is there any sign it was shot down?”
“None.”
“Hmm… Pilot error, then?”
Turov relaxed and uncrossed her arms. She didn’t exactly smile at me, but her face had softened. I was bullshitting, and that made her happy.
Drusus, on the other hand, had a suspicious look on his face. He’d never been an easy man to fool.
“McGill, I am capable of remembering recent events. You and Winslade have a particularly rocky history.”
“What? You mean about killing each other and so forth? That’s old news. It’s beneath any Legion Varus man to hold a grudge like that.”
“Just so… Very well then.”
He turned to the bio adjunct running the revival machine. “Revive Winslade. Contact me when the task is done.”
He walked out then, and I watched him go with a slack expression.
Turov came to stand nonchalantly nearby.
“I know you blew up my air car, you dick,” she whispered harshly.
I glanced down at her in feigned surprise. She glared back.
“That’s simply untrue, Imperator. I was aboard, I admit that. But as God is my witness, Winslade was driving. I think you should talk to him about it.”
“Are you claiming you don’t remember anything from that flight?”
“No, not really. I remember getting aboard, and I remember taking off. But once we were up there, my mind is a blank. Next thing I knew, I was popping out of the oven here at Central.”
She licked her lips thoughtfully. “It could actually be true that you don’t remember. Winslade might have used the blocker aboard my car…”
“Why, Imperator!” I exclaimed. “I’m surprised. Did you know those devices are illegal?”
“Shut up. Let me think. If Winslade was using the blocker, you would have no idea why the crash happened… but it still stands to reason that you caused it!”
“But why would I do that?” I asked her with the most innocent, blank, dumb-ass look I could muster.
She sighed, and I could tell right then she believed me. The fine art of lying was all about playing your part to hilt. You couldn’t do it halfway. You had to be absolutely firm in your determination to obscure the truth. Any hesitancy, reluctance, or even a sense of amusement would give a man away every time.
“Dammit,” she said. “If Winslade’s mind is a blank, I’ll never know which of you two assholes destroyed my air car.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m mighty sorry about that fine vehicle of yours, sir.”
“That isn’t any comfort at all,” she said, and she stalked away to the exit.
I found some clothes and followed her out into the endless, echoing hallways of the giant pyramid-shaped building we called Central. Feeling pretty good, I whistled an old tune as I walked.
-5-
Turov noticed me following her and caught me staring at her butt. That was something of a hobby of mine with any attractive woman, but in Turov’s case it was a real treat.
She had a body that belied her rank and her personality. What’s more, I was intimately familiar with every detail of it.
“I’m taking this elevator, Adjunct,” she said in an unfriendly tone. “And you’re not coming with me.”
“No sir,” I said.
She stepped aboard the elevator and opened her mouth to tell it where she wanted to go, but I interrupted her.
“I think I’ll just head up to Drusus’ office instead,” I said.
Her hand snapped out, catching the elevator door and pushing it back. It had just about closed in my face.
“What?” she snapped.
“Well, when Winslade picked me up on the road back in Waycross, he said something about a mission Drusus wanted me to go on. I thought I would just head on up there to his floor and—”
“You will do no such thing!” she hissed, coming out of the elevator and glaring up at me.
“Uh… What do you suggest then, sir?”
She sighed, her small shoulders moved up and down in an exaggerated shrug. “All right. Come with me. Keep quiet until we get to my office.”
It was a nice quiet ride up there. She kept her promise not to talk, and I did the same. It really wasn’t a challenge for me.
Turov, on the other hand, seemed to be squirming with questions. She wanted to know how much I knew—and how much Winslade had told me before he went splat at my side.
I could have told her, of course, but I wasn’t in an informational mood. If there was one thing I’d learned from my fellow schemers in life, it was that keeping quiet often paid big dividends.
“All right,” she said when I reached her office. “You can stop this farce.”
“Uh… which one?”
“I mean stop pretending you don’t know what’s going on. You’re playing me, and I don’t appreciate it.”
In my mind, I was the one being played. That’s why I’d killed Winslade. He was a snake under the best circumstance, mind you, and deserved a good killing just on principle any day of the week. But in this case, he’d tipped his hand. Turov knew I was in financial trouble—that much was clear. What I suspected w
as much darker.
I suspected she and Winslade had helped engineer my circumstances. I didn’t think they’d made my momma sick, but they might have leaned on some government types to make sure her required treatment was out of my financial reach.
“Okay,” I said after a brief delay. “I’ll stop pretending.”
She squinted at me suspiciously. “That’s it?”
“Yup.”
She nodded. “Okay, play it that way. You’re going to be summoned to Drusus. He will offer you a mission that will take you off-world. You will refuse that mission, on the basis that your mother is sick and needs your care.”
It was my turn to give her a suspicious stare.
“What do you know about my momma?”
“Nothing,” she said, “and I want to know even less. What I do want is for you to stay on Earth. For this simple act, your mother will receive the care she needs. Is that understood?”
“Are you threatening my mother’s life, Imperator?” I asked, with just a hint of danger in my voice.
She turned away from me before answering and retreated behind her desk. I knew that was because I had a certain reputation for violent outbursts. Mind you, the recipients of these outbursts were always highly deserving of their fates.
“That’s why you killed Winslade, isn’t it?” she asked me.
“What? I don’t know. I died too, remember?”
“That doesn’t absolve you of anything. I know you, McGill. You’d happily destroy yourself to avenge a slight from another.”
I shrugged, unable to deny her words.
“All right… It doesn’t matter. The car was insured. I’ll suffer with the deductible and the increased rates… but it doesn’t matter. What I’m willing to offer you is what you really need. Your mother will get her treatment. All you have to do is refuse to accept Drusus’ mission.”
“Well now,” I said, “it might not be as simple as all that. What if he orders me to take the mission? He can do that, you know.”
She shook her head. “He won’t. He wants a true volunteer.”
With a sudden motion, I lifted my hands and slammed them together, making a booming clap. Turov jumped visibly, and her hand flew to the butt of her pistol.
“Well then!” I said loudly. “We’re all good here. Thanks for filling me in, Imperator.”
She licked her lips nervously and eyed my sidearm as if making sure it was still in its holster. Slowly, she slid her hand away from her weapon and gave me a flickering smile.
“Go visit Drusus now,” she said. “Don’t hint that you know about the mission. Don’t mention anything we’ve talked about here.”
I nodded reassuringly and stepped out of her office. Her eyes followed me warily. Damn, did everyone think I was some kind of murderous psychopath?
In the elevator on the way up to Drusus’ office, I worked on my tapper. It had been quietly recording my conversation with Turov, and I wanted to make sure it had caught all the incriminating details. My final clap, in fact, had served to stop the recording.
The sound was crisp and clear on the playback. I smiled, knowing I had a chip to bargain with at last.
Drusus was in his office, and he barely looked up when I got past his staffers into his inner chambers.
As was customary, I waited at attention in front of his desk. At last, making a wry face, he looked up from his work and faced me.
“Adjunct James McGill…” he said. “You’re a hard man to gauge, do you know that?”
“That’s what people tell me, sir,” I said. “Keeps my enemies guessing and my friends nervous.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I have to admit, after this latest stunt I almost changed my mind about meeting with you today.”
“Stunt sir? You mean the accident?”
“Yes… Another deadly accident involving you and Winslade… What are the odds?”
“Um… it was a damnably unusual wreck, I would argue. I suspect Winslade’s driving first, and Turov’s poor schedule of maintenance second. Air cars aren’t like trams, you know. You have to do more than just pour in a can of oil now and then.”
Drusus nodded sourly. “I thought you’d say something like that. Tell me, McGill, is Turov still breathing downstairs in her office?”
“Of course she is, sir! What are you suggesting?”
“Never mind. Here’s the deal: I need you. I hate to admit it, but I need a man who gets things done no matter what stands in his way.”
“In that case, I’m that man.”
“Right… but don’t you even want to hear what the mission is?”
“Not particularly. But I do want you to hear something.”
I played the recording for him, implicating Turov and Winslade in a conspiracy. I figured that if I didn’t even know what Drusus’ mission was about, my case would be even stronger. I’d look like an innocent party—no mean feat for a man of my stature.
Drusus listened and his face darkened as the recording finished. He rubbed at his face. Instead of flying into a rage and ordering Turov to be arrested, however, he looked worried.
“I thank you for bringing that to my attention, McGill. I’d like to ask for a favor.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Destroy that recording. It will only cause us greater trouble—in fact, it may already be too late.”
My face went slack in incomprehension. “I don’t get it, sir.”
“No… I don’t either, not entirely. Let’s just say that Turov has connections. Everyone knows that, but over the last couple of years since the Cephalopod attack, I’ve become increasingly alarmed at her resiliency.”
“Uhh… I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Equestrian.”
“Have you ever wondered why she wasn’t permed for her treasonous behavior during the Cephalopod War?”
“I just figured she weaseled out of it somehow.”
“It was more than that. Some people high up in our government—those who serve on the Ruling Council of Hegemony itself—they’re behind her.”
“I see. That would explain a lot.”
Drusus got up from his desk and paced behind it. While he did that, I pretended to dutifully erase the recording of Turov’s voice. What I really did was change the name of the file and encrypt it. A man could never have too many aces up his sleeve, to my way of thinking.
“I know you had a close relationship with Nagata in the past,” Drusus continued. “He was the man who sat in this very chair I’m in now.”
I looked at the chair in question doubtfully. Nagata’s office hadn’t even been on this floor.
Drusus caught my expression and shook his head. “I meant that figuratively, not literally. I’m a three-star officer with similar duties. I’m one of the few obstacles in-between Turov and her personal goals. That didn’t work out too well for Nagata, did it?”
“No, sir. He got his ass permed.”
“Exactly. I don’t intend to suffer the same fate. What I want to know is if you’ll stand with me on this.”
I looked at him in mild surprise. People tended to order me around, or ask me to do things that were questionable in nature. But they rarely asked me to take a loyal stand.
“Well…” I said, “I’ve always liked and respected you, sir. Even after you left the legion and moved up to work here at Hog-Central.”
“That’s very considerate,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “But I’m asking for your support in a personal way. Are you a man I can count on if things go badly around here—again?”
“My first loyalty is to Earth, then my family, then Legion Varus, in that order,” I said seriously. “After that, though, I’m willing to call you a friend and stick my neck out to help if I can.”
“That’s the most I can hope for, I guess. Thanks for the honest answer.”
He pushed a small box across his desk toward me. I picked it up, frowning. I didn’t open it right away.
“
You sure you want to do this, sir?” I asked him.
He met my eyes and nodded.
I thought about bringing up my mom about then—but I didn’t. It just seemed wrong to ask him for a political favor right now. He was talking about serious legion business. Nothing about our discussion was private or personal. It was all appropriate—if unusual and outside of normal channels.
After looking at the box he’d scooted in my direction for a second, I scooped it up and opened it. A moment later I took out the twin silver bars of a centurion.
I’d been promoted, just like that.
Somehow, I figured the promotion was only going to get me into deeper trouble. But I plucked the bars out of the box anyway and touched them to my lapels. They quickly consumed my Adjunct’s insignia, embedded themselves into the fabric and stuck there. It was as if they’d been there my whole life.
-6-
Drusus never did tell me exactly what he wanted me to do for him. The precise nature of this “mission” I was supposed to go on wasn’t even described.
He did tell me, however, to report to the labs deep under the bedrock of Central in the morning, equipped for hazardous duty.
I left his office worrying about my mom. If this activity ended up perming me—always a possibility when the word “special” was attached to any mission—there was no way she would survive to see Christmas. The thought of Etta and my dad spending a lonely Christmas together briefly crossed my mind. Then I got back to problem-solving.
As a man with a long history in the Legions, I wasn’t completely without resources. I took it upon myself to contact certain people who might be able to help, or at least to steer me in the right direction.
The first one to respond was Della. That was probably because we had a kid together, and she might have assumed it involved Etta. It was nice to know she cared in her own way.
“What’s wrong, James?” she asked, her face swimming into existence on my tapper.
“Nothing,” I said. “At least, not with me or Etta.”
“What’s the problem then—wait, you’re not calling for a date, are you? That ship has sailed, as you Earthers like to say.”
