But...'
'But what?'
Jonny took a deep breath. 'About a half hour after I got back one of the others came in and told me he'd—well, he said he'd bounced someone around a little behind one of the bars in Farnesee.'
Mendro's eyes were hard, unbelieving. 'And you didn't report it?'
'He indicated it was a minor argument. Certainly nothing so... serious.' He looked again at P'alit; only then did the sophistication of the frame-up sink in. No wonder Viljo hadn't wanted Jonny to change clothes before they all left. 'I can only conclude that he was wearing my spare tunic at the time.'
'Uh-huh. Who was it who told you all this?'
'Rolon Viljo, sir.'
'Viljo. The one you attacked in the mess hall awhile back?'
Jonny gritted his teeth. 'Yes, sir.'
'Obviously just trying to put the blame on someone else,' P'alit spoke up scornfully.
'Perhaps. How did the fight start, Mr. P'alit?'
The other shrugged with his free shoulder. 'Oh, I made some snide comment about the outer provinces—I don't even know how the topic came up. He took it personally and shoved me out the back door where a bunch of us were standing.'
'Isn't that what you targeted Viljo over, Moreau?' Mendro asked.
'Yes, sir.' Jonny resisted the almost overwhelming urge to again explain that incident. 'I don't suppose any of your companions might have gotten a clear look at your assailant, Mr. P'alit?'
'No, no one saw you clearly—but I don't think that's going to be necessary.' P'alit looked back at Mendro. 'I think this story's pretty well lost its factory finish, Commander. Are you going to take action on this or not?'
'The Army always disciplines its own,' Mendro said, tapping a button on his desk console. 'Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention.' Behind Jonny, the door opened and another MP appeared. 'Sergeant Costas will escort you out.'
'Thank you.' Standing up, P'alit nodded to Mendro and followed the MP out. Catching the eye of Jonny's guard, Mendro gestured minutely, and the other joined the exodus. The door closed and Jonny and Mendro were alone.
'Anything you'd like to say?' Mendro asked mildly.
'Nothing that would do any good, sir,' Jonny told him bitterly. All the work, all the sweat... and it was about to come crashing down on top of him. 'I didn't do it, but I don't know any way to prove that.'
'Um.' Mendro gave him a long, searching gaze and then shrugged. 'Well... you'd better get back to the testing, I suppose, before you get any further behind schedule.'
'You're not dropping me from the unit, sir?' Jonny asked, a spark of hope struggling to pierce the rubble of his collapsed future.
'Do you think this sort of misbehavior rates that?' Mendro countered.
'I really don't know.' Jonny shook his head. 'I know we're needed for the war, but... on Horizon, at least, picking on someone weaker than you are is considered cowardly.'
'It's considered that way on Asgard, too.' Mendro sighed. 'It may very well come to expulsion, Moreau; at this point I don't know. But until that decision's made there's no point in depriving your team of your help in the group operations.'
In other words, they were going to give him the chance to risk his life—and possibly lose it—and
'I expect nothing less.' Mendro touched a button and the MP reappeared. 'Dismissed.'
It wasn't as hard as Jonny had expected to forget his new troubles as the testing continued. The defenses he faced were devilishly tight, and it took every milligram of his concentration to handle his assigned missions. But his luck and skill held out, and he completed the solitaire exercises with nothing more serious than skinned hands and an impressive collection of bruises.
And then he joined his roommates for the group tests... and there the disasters began.
Facing Viljo again—working and fighting alongside him—brought out thoughts and feelings that even their danger couldn't suppress... and that distraction quickly manifested itself in reduced competence. Twice Jonny got himself into situations that only his computerized reflexes were able to get him out of; more often than that a failure to do his part of the job wound up putting one of the others in unnecessary danger. Singh took a laser burn that had him operating under the sluggishness of heavy pain-killers, while only quick action by Jonny and Deutsch pulled Noffke out of a pincer trap that would almost certainly have left him dead.
A hundred times during those two days Jonny considered having it out with Viljo, either verbally or physically; of letting the others know the kind of vermin they were working with and at least eliminating the lie he was being forced to live. But each time the opportunity arose he choked his anger back down and said nothing. They were all just barely surviving with one of their number under an emotional handicap; to multiply that burden and spread it around would be not only unfair but likely lethal as well.
The other logical alternative occurred to him only once, and for an hour afterward he actually regretted the fact that his ethical training forbade him to simply shoot Viljo in the back.
The missions went on, oblivious to Jonny's internal turmoil. Together the six of them broke into a fortified ten- story building; penetrated and destroyed a twenty-man garrison; disabled the booby-traps around an underground bunker and blew up its entrance; and successfully rescued four remotes simulating civilian prisoners from a Troft jail. They camped overnight in a Troft-patrolled wasteland area, picked up the characteristics of an off-center group of civilians quickly enough and accurately enough to avoid being identified as strangers an hour afterwards, and led
