I glared at him. “A rebel, then. Through and through. A traitor—”
Armel laughed and threw up a cautionary hand. I spat at him, but it ran down my flappy cheeks.
“No, no—you misunderstand. If I was choosing to move against Earth, why would I have revived you?”
I puzzled over that one for a minute. “To make Squanto happy? To sell me to Rigel as a public exhibit?”
Armel pursed his lips and nodded as if considering the idea. “I have to admit, it would be profitable. But I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because, my benighted friend, I think Earth is going to win the coming conflict.”
-8-
Struggling with legs like mud, I stood up and looked down on him, swaying badly. My jaw sagged so low my chin hit my chest, and it wasn’t even an act.
“Seriously?” I managed to say. “You think I can get you back into Earth’s good graces? That’s a tall order Armel.”
“Yes, it is. What do you say?”
I blinked a few times, considering the idea. The more I thought about it, the more insane it seemed.
My first instinct, naturally, was to lie through my teeth. If Armel wanted to give me another chance to keep breathing, and the only price was making a damned fool out of myself, well sir, it sounded like a pretty good bet.
Accordingly, I should grin and tell him it would all be as easy as peach pie. That was my first instinct—and I almost did it.
But, for some reason, when I brought my chin back under control and tried to force a welcoming smile, I failed to do it. I felt compelled, somehow to tell him the honest truth.
“Armel, I… I don’t think I can pull it off. Not even me, with all my good looks and fine reputation… that’s a joke, by the way.”
“I know…” he said, and he began to pace. “I thank you for the honest answer.”
“Uh…” I said, fighting the urge to start lying in earnest. I really wanted to lie. I wanted to lie my damned ass off, and every instinct in me was telling me to—but I just couldn’t.
“What’d you shoot into my arm, anyways?” I demanded. “Some kind of truth serum?”
Armel’s fingers tapped at his chin. “Something like that. Listen, McGill, tell me why this can’t be done?”
“Why? Isn’t that pretty frigging obvious?”
“Indulge me. List the problems as you see them.”
“Uh… okay. First off, you’re talking James McGill, here. I’m not Drusus. I’m not even Turov. I’m a nobody.”
“Untrue, but I understand your meaning. Continue.”
“Okay,” I said, struggling to think and to gain control of my tongue at the same time. I half failed at both. “Do I have to point out that you are on Earth’s most-wanted list of traitors? That you fought against us openly at Edge World?”
“Granted, but that was strictly business. I am a mercenary. I fight for the highest bidder. Why wouldn’t Earth buy out my contract?”
“Because they consider you a turncoat, that’s why.”
“But you have dealings with Claver and his clone armies. They’re turncoats as well.”
I shook my head, and began clumsily pulling on some clothing. My body was sticky with fluids, and I knew that would only get worse as the goo began to dry. As there wasn’t a shower stall in sight, I decided to dress now before everything got crusty.
“It’s not the same. You were sworn into Earth’s service, but you went AWOL. Claver has been an independent trader for a long time, and he did rebel, sure… but…”
The more I thought it over, I realized Armel had a point. Claver was at least as bad as Armel. What was the difference? It was hard to think clearly, I was still a little fuzzy.
“Uh…” I said. “Here’s what I think the difference is: you just don’t have the same value as Claver. As a trader, he’s worth more than any single military commander with a legion behind him.”
“Ah-ha,” Armel said. “That’s a good point. You’re saying you doubt I can convince Central to take a chance on me due to my lack of strategic value.”
“Exactly.”
Armel looked smug. “What if I were to inform you that I would come with more than a few thousand surly reptile troops?”
“Well… whatever you’re thinking of, it had better be good. Don’t forget that you also killed a tall stack of Galactics. The Mogwa frown on that sort of thing even harder than the boys back at Central do.”
Armel made a dismissive gesture and turned away. “Come, come. This way. Follow me, you tottering ape.”
I did as I was commanded. It was almost as if my big feet had a mind of their own.
Marching along behind him through cavernous passages, I thought about clocking him from behind, I really did—but I couldn’t.
I tried to reach out a foot and hook his ankle—but it just didn’t happen. I couldn’t do it. Damn. Whatever he’d shot me up with, I was really feeling it. I felt like a robot with a restraining chip plugged into my chassis.
Armel led me through a twisting set of rocky tunnels. There was melted rock all around the walls and ceiling, and I knew they must have used a beam-driller to create this maze.
“What is this place anyway, Armel? This isn’t Rigel proper, is it?”
“No. As non-natives, we’re not good enough to set foot upon their holy mother planet. We’re on a moon of significant size instead.”
“Huh…”
I knew that Rigel had a few big moons, and that the planet itself was a large one, but I’d never been anywhere other than their main
