That was pure Natasha. Shed always been an explorer. If shed had her way, shed be flying in a scientific vessel of exploration, not a warship.

Then another, even bigger thought struck me-right between the eyes. My smile faded, and so did hers as she watched me.

Dellas story about Natasha 2.0 sprung into my mind whole and fully fleshed. It was as if I could see both of them, standing side by side. Twins, but one older and wearing a hard, sun-burnt scowl. The second younger, a little more innocent, standing here and looking at me.

How could I tell her? How could I tell poor Natasha she couldnt ever go back to Dust World? That a crime had been committed, a Galactic violation, and it had been committed by another version of herself? A version of herself whod been cruelly left for dead in s.p.a.ce?

"Its a good idea," I said, coming up with what I felt was a gifted dodge. "But Ill have to ask Della about it. That only seems right, doesnt it? I mean-what if she doesnt want me to interfere? Shes got a new husband and all-maybe he wouldnt be too keen on seeing me show up from out of nowhere when hes trying to bond with his stepdaughter."

Natashas face fell. She nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. Youre right. Della would have to know, and she must approve of the idea. Its only right. Ill ask her about it."

She gave me a little kiss and turned away, going back to her work. She didnt see me grimace in concern as I left, shaking my head.

Della wasnt going to like the idea, I knew that much. Who knew what Natasha would read into that?

d.a.m.n, why did women always have to make things so complicated?

-27-.

The noncoms and officers of the cavalry cohort met together before we dropped. Winslade walked around a central tactical display, skinny arms behind his back, hands clasped. He had the look of a primus, at least, but I still didnt buy the idea that he knew what he was doing. He hadnt earned that from me.

The rest of the troops around me were mostly battle-hardened officers. They looked at Winslade with even more disdain than I did.

I knew the first time wed dropped under this gentlemans command hadnt won him any points. The entire thing had been a fiasco. Hed stayed hidden under the lifter while we ran around blindly all over an unknown landscape like a bunch of kids in grandmas cellar. h.e.l.l, it had taken us days just to cross a river. After that, things had gone downhill. Wed ended up taking heavy losses and getting chased off the surface again, accomplishing pretty much nothing at all.

While Id been down there, these details hadnt been so easy to see. After all, I hadnt been the one in command. Id followed my orders and marched my squad around to the best of my ability. The strategy hadnt seemed clear to me, but Id thought at the time that maybe it was because I was new to the role of squad leader.

But after talking to others like Graves and Leeson, who were much quicker to judge than Id been, I could see now the whole thing had been a gigantic charley-foxtrot from start to finish.

Now Winslade was doing his little walk around the tactical display and making a pompous speech in front of about a thirty sets of unfriendly eyes. He didnt seem to notice that we werent in love with him. Maybe he was used to that.

"Soldiers," he said, "weve been asked to return to the surface of Gamma Pavonis. This invasion will be different. Last time, we were dropping to evade an enemy attack on our ships. This time, we have a clear goal."

He swept a skinny finger down to point at the three dimensional map. The section he pointed at lit up. A small spike in the landscape was at the center of the region hed indicated.

"See this startling geographical formation? Its a steep mountain near the equator. Now that weve had time to carefully survey the planet surface after many orbits, weve identified this region as possessing a heavy concentration of t.i.tanium ore. Unfortunately, the squids also took the time to a.n.a.lyze the same data. This was their chosen landing spot. The troops they dropped onto the surface ended up here."

His words sparked my interest. I knew that our Imperial ships were built largely with t.i.tanium. The metal was light and extremely strong, making it a perfect choice for a ships hull. With a lead coating to keep out the gamma rays and a few layered electromagnetic shields, you could fly through s.p.a.ce in safety and comfort inside a t.i.tanium ship.

The trouble with t.i.tanium, however, was its rarity. A big mine with a high yield would be extremely valuable to Earth.

"Not only," Winslade continued, "is the ore here plentiful, its very rich and pure. Well hardly have to smelt it. Obviously, the squids want this same resource and have moved to take control of it upon landing."

The officers and veterans around me were stirring. I could see their overall att.i.tude shifting. As mercenaries, we were aware of the value of things. We understood fighting for material gain. A big mountain made of pure t.i.tanium ore? That had the troops licking their chops all up and down the line.

Winslade surveyed the a.s.sembled officers and noncoms for the first time. He allowed himself a sly smile. I could tell he was reading them the way I had. They were no longer thinking about how hed gotten so many of them killed the last time hed dropped them on this foggy rock. Now they were thinking of bringing home a treasure to Earth.

"I neednt tell you," he said, lowering his voice, "how much this metal will mean to our home world. Back on Earth right now, Hegemony is buying up interstellar shipments of rare metals, and theyre having a tough time of it. Freighters are shying away from Frontier 921. They dont want to venture this far out. The saurian princes of Steel World, our best local suppliers, are still unhappy with Earthlings and refuse to trade with us. Rumors of piracy and outright rebellion all along the fringe of the Empire are rampant as well, making longer distance runs by traders problematic."

That part about piracy was news to me. My eyes widened upon hearing such a thing was possible. How could the Empire allow these violations? I knew the answer, of course, as soon as Id mentally asked myself the question. The civil war in the Core Systems had changed everything. That was the source of the problem. No one was minding the store out here on the frontier-no one but Earth, that is.

All my life Id grown up in a very orderly political universe. At the top of the food chain were the Galactics. Races of beings that were so far removed in power and stature from Earthlings that we might as well have been pond sc.u.m to them-and pond sc.u.m from a rather small pond at that.

But things had changed. The Empire was eating itself from within. The word was that things hadnt gotten any better over recent years in the Core of the galaxy as the conflict spread and progressed. The Mogwa, the particular race of Galactics who "owned" our local province, were nose deep in the war, just like the rest of them. They were slinging ships at other powers, wasting their strength on petty squabbles over who had the right to rule a thousand stars, give or take. They were losing an empire to win an argument.

In the meantime, out here on the frontier, things were becoming more lawless all the time.

Winslade said something else then, something that jarred me out of my reverie.

"Theres another angle to this," he said. "A more personal angle. One that involves every one of you in this room."

He had our attention. I couldnt imagine how anything about dropping down again onto a planet Carlos lovingly called "fart-world" was going to personally engage me, but I was willing to listen.

"We need this metal to keep building dragons and other, larger machines weve been planning with those tech wizards out on Dust World. The primary component of their cha.s.sis is t.i.tanium. A fair amount of it has been mined on Dust World, but nowhere near enough to sustain serious production levels."

Graves lifted a hand. Winslade called on him without hesitation. "Why would the Dust World colonists be our suppliers? And why does this involve us personally, as you claimed earlier?"

"Good questions," Winslade said. "As I understand it, the colonists had originally planned to build their own ship, possibly to use it to escape their desert planet. A grim thought, from our perspective as humans. They might have violated yet another Galactic Law and gotten our species erased. But in any case, theyre our modern munitions producers because they havent been stunted technologically for generations by the Empire. In some ways, theyre more advanced than we are."

"And the personal interest part, sir?" Graves asked.

"Do you want to go back to the infantry, Centurion Graves?"

"No, sir. But this hardly seems the moment to make public threats toward my career path."

Winslade fanned away the words with his thin fingers. "Im sorry. I didnt mean it that way. What Im trying to say is that the continued existence of this cavalry cohort, and others like it, depends on these metals. We need a surplus just to replace the dragons weve already lost. The fleet wants it all."

We looked at Winslade thoughtfully. Everyone was a little shocked. The words "Im sorry" had never been in his vocabulary before. I felt an urge to ask a follow-up question. In fact, I almost raised my hand-but I didnt. Maybe it was my recent promotion, or maybe it was an onset of newfound wisdom, but whatever the case, I stayed quiet. Graves was asking the right questions, and it was his prerogative to do so as the senior centurion, second in command of the cohort under Winslade.

"I see my words arent lost on you," Winslade said, studying our faces. "I know you arent confident in me as your commander-not yet. But you like your dragons, dont you? All I hear is praise for the hardware. Look how it performed in this last conflict. Without the dragons, an all-infantry force would have been decimated by the native machines."

We couldnt dispute his statements. They were demonstrably true, and they praised us at the same time. Who could argue with that?

"So," Winslade continued, "were not going to take this ten thousand meter tall rocky spire for Turov. Were not going to take it for Earth! Were going to take it so we can fight in these walking dragons. Unlike our bodies, the dragons must be manufactured and shipped from lightyears away. In order to remain viable, we need a cheap supply of raw materials. Otherwise, this experiment known as a cavalry cohort will be a footnote in the Hegemony textbooks."

Wait a second... Had he just said a ten thousand meter high spire?

I looked at the map again, a frown growing on my face. Yes, I could see the scale now. On the map, the central mountain in question looked small, no bigger than a mans nose on an otherwise smooth face. But that was because the display depicted a vast planetary surface.

Ten thousand meters. Holy c.r.a.p... That was going to be quite a climb.

Winslade went on then with a.s.signments, timetables and launch codes. After about a half hour, he dismissed us. But he called out to Graves before doing so.

"Centurion," he said. "I wish to have a word, if you dont mind."

"Certainly, primus," Graves said, standing stiffly while others filed away. The rest headed down to the dragon bays, planning to pa.s.s the briefing summary to their troops.

I hung back, wondering what Winslade was going to say to Graves. I still didnt trust the man. I trusted him nowhere near as far as I could throw his skinny carca.s.s-which I estimated would have been a pretty good distance.

Winslade eyed me sidelong. "I see your chief ape is reluctant to leave. Im flattered."

It took me about a second to realize Id been insulted-sort of. The t.i.tle "chief ape" had its appeal, after all, but I didnt think he meant it that way. Personally, I would have given that t.i.tle to Harris or Sargon. They werent as tall as I was, but were about as strong and mean.

Winslade beckoned to me. "Come on over here, ape. If youre going to listen, you might as well do it without straining your huge ears."

I walked back to stand beside Graves. Winslade had a strange look in his eye. He appeared thoughtful. I couldnt recall having seen that expression on this mans face before.

"I owe both of you a great deal," Winslade said. "You both were instrumental in saving my command. Correspondingly, Ive recommended you both receive a commendation."

Graves and I blinked at him, stunned.

"Did I hear that right, sir?" I asked. "Youre telling Hegemony to give us a medal?"

"Yes. I doubt the request will go through, however. There is a non-neutral party between myself and Hegemony who must approve, and I doubt the motion will get past her desk."

He eyed us. We all knew he was talking about Turov.

"Still," Graves said, "its the thought that counts, sir."

"Not really, but Im glad you feel that way. There is another remedy. When Tribune Drusus is eventually revived, Ill ask him to give you Legion Varus medal of valor. Youre still part of Varus as the cavalry cohort is attached to your old legion. I believe he may like you two more than...others do."

"Uh..." I said, "Did I just hear that right? Are you saying Drusus still hasnt been revived? Its been days, sir!"

"Thats correct. It has been." Winslade didnt say anything else about it. He dismissed us with a wave of his hand.

We left together, and out in the hallway, following the glowing arrows that had appeared on the deck, I turned toward the dragon bays. The arrows werent displaying emergency colors but were meant to guide troops through the ship to their appropriate destinations. The red arrows were meant for me as I was a combat-arms soldier.

Graves walked with me down the pa.s.sage.

"That was weird," I said to him.

"Indeed it was. I never would have thought it could come to this."

"Come to what, sir?"

"Im having second thoughts about Winslade. He barely knows what hes doing, but hes willing to admit that you and I helped him out. Thats a serious first step in a commander. Whats more, he did a fairly good job of motivating his cohort to fight hard on this new invasion attempt. He tried to provide us with a personal stake in the battle. I dont recall Turov ever doing that."

Still frowning, I nodded in agreement.

"But sir," I said, "whats bothering me most is this business about Drusus. He should be back on the line by now. Theres no excuse for leaving him in limbo for three days."

Graves chuckled. "Theres always an excuse. h.e.l.l, for all we know hes been revived several times and declared a bad grow. I wouldnt be surprised if Turov herself was personally recycling him with a grin on her face."

I winced at that horrible image. The revival machines didnt always reproduce a functional human body. Sometimes people came out wrong and had to be put down and grown again. Id been declared a bad-grow on a few occasions, but Id managed to convince people to let me keep breathing until events halted my life yet again.

Who knew, though? Possibly, more than one James McGill had come out with a heart that didnt beat right or a tumor in his lungs. Maybe Id been put down a few times, struggling feebly while I was being fed into the whirling blades of the recycling chute. I shuddered just thinking about it.

"Dont tell me youve still got the w.i.l.l.i.e.s about revivals, McGill?" Graves admonished me. "Arent you getting a little old for that sort of thing?"

"Im only about twenty-seven-I think."

"Point taken. Im more than twice that age," he said. "Ive been revived more times than youve cut your toenails."

I glanced at him but didnt say anything. Graves was a strange one. No one took a death as easily as he did. Maybe that was the trick. Dying was like anything else; you just had to do it a lot to get over your natural fears.

Graves didnt look like he was sixty or seventy years old, of course. Hed been reset every time hed died. Physically, his body was maybe thirty-five, tops. Maybe even less than that. My own body was about twenty three by now. Id lived five years without aging-but it had come at a grim price. Legionnaires might be almost immortal, but only because we got the 'thrill of dying more than once.

Reaching the dragon bays, I gathered my squad. We outfitted our machines with the battle gear we thought would be most appropriate and made sure every system checked out. When I was finished with that, I had a few hours to kill before the invasion. I let my squad go on break with orders to meet back for the drop an hour before go-time.

-28-.

Wandering the halls, I found myself back on Blue Deck. It was with a slightly guilty feeling that I buzzed in, trying to get Anne to answer my call. I had to wonder if Natasha was tailing me with either an electronic trace or an actual spy-buzzer. Shed done both before.

Anne had been ignoring all inquiries sent by tapper since our last date. I figured chiming for her from Blue Decks security door sent a more powerful message. I wasnt sure why I wanted to talk to her so badly-I guess it was because our one and only date had felt unfinished to me.

At last, the big metal door to Blue Deck opened. The hatchway wasnt like those on the rest of the ship. Blue Deck was closed off to casual traffic, restricted for the lowly likes of me. Combat troops were to stay out, and techs doubly so. The bio-people operated like a priesthood, charged with maintaining their revival machines without interference from the locals.

Id never fully understood their paranoia-except for the knowledge that their machines were probably the most expensive pieces of alien hardware we had aside from the starships themselves.

When the door opened, I had a little speech all prepared. Id expected to meet with an orderly, who would be sour and dismissive. Getting past such a person was the first requirement, and Id done it before.

My bulls.h.i.t speech died in my throat. Anne herself looked up at me with tired eyes.

"You dont give up, do you?" she asked.

I smiled at her, and she smiled back. Her short hair was pushed back, but strands had still fallen onto her face, glued there by the sheen of perspiration on her cheeks and forehead.

"Youre just as pretty as I remember," I said.

She laughed. "Like I said, you never quit."

"Anne, I know youre real busy and all," I said.

"But you want another date. Dont you?"

I did. She was right about that. But I had another more pressing matter to discuss this time around.

"Of course I do," I said. "But thats not why Im here. I wanted to ask about Drusus."

Her face froze. "I cant talk about that, James."

"Why not? Whats the deal?"

She looked over her shoulder then stepped out into the pa.s.sage way with me. "Turn on that thing Natasha gave you," she whispered.

I knew what she was talking about, and I did as she asked. Some years back, Natasha had perfected a device that would prevent officers and other techs from listening in on her private conversations. It even hid your location from computer monitoring systems, all without tripping security alarms.

At least, thats what I hoped it did. Shed built it and instructed me on its function. I just used the thing. So far, I hadnt been arrested and executed for using it. As far as I was concerned, the device worked.