That last sentence of hers made me wince, but I tried to be carefree. “I’ve been working down at the docks in the Harbor District, actually.”
Etta frowned. “The Harbor District? That figures. That’s where the trouble started. One of those big ships—the really big, monster ships the size of a town—one of them blew up last week.”
I scratched a finger on the back of my neck. It was beginning to feel kind of itchy. “You don’t say? That is strange. I wonder what’s going on down there.”
She stared at me and shook her head. “Wow... You really do know what happened, don’t you? All right, all right, keep your secrets. If Floramel isn’t eaten or something tonight, maybe you’ll get a date with her after all.”
I frowned at my daughter. She was getting to be more disrespectful with each passing year. Some would say that was due to appearances. At this point, what with all my frequent revivals, she had to be nearing thirty, while I was maybe twenty-five years of age. That could be very confusing for a father-daughter relationship.
But there was something else that came to mind. My father had warned me this day was coming. He’d insisted for years I should have tanned her hide more often when she was a kid, but I hadn’t listened. Not listening to good advice was a general failing of mine at all times and in all places, but in any regard, it was way too late to fix Etta. She was what she was.
I sighed, gave her a hug, and left. Floramel never even said goodbye. She didn’t even wave back at me. Her eyes were fixed on Raash. I hoped she was happy. She had her pet lizard back, and he was being well cared-for. If he ate any of her lab-rats down here, well sir, it would be on her head, not mine.
Trying not to trot, I left quickly and high-tailed it for the street-level. I almost made it to the first bar I spotted—but not quite. Somehow, my tapper had finally located me, and it alerted everyone who’d been looking for me lately. That turned out to be quite a list.
“McGill?”
It was my tapper speaking to me, and the face looking up into mine wasn’t the pretty kind. It was Graves.
“Hello, sir!” I said in a cheery tone. “You must have figured out that trick about forcing calls to be accepted by an underling’s tapper. Congrats.”
“Where are you…? Central City? You’re right here in town? Did you know you were marked as missing down at the Harbor District? Everyone had you counted as permed. How did you get out of that massive explosion?”
“Uh…” I said, thinking of Lenny and all his friends back on board the Sea Empress. “That’s a real funny story, sir. But I need to tell it to Tribune Turov. She sent me on the mission herself, see.”
“Hmm… then you’re not heading in the right direction. About-face and march, soldier. Turov is in her office at legion headquarters.”
I sighed. Graves was like a professional cock-blocker when it came to keeping a man from a well-earned beer.
“All right, sir. McGill out.”
A few more pesky people tried to contact me, but they were small-fry. People like Natasha, Leeson, and even Carlos sent me texts and calls. I let my tapper buzz and beep without even glancing at it. Sure, they were probably stunned to have their commander back, and my unit’s officers were no doubt freaking out about the surprise muster back to duty—but I didn’t care all that much.
I’d just run around three or so different star systems, died a few times, and generally been mistreated by everyone. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to petty problems these people should be able to solve on their own.
Back at Central, I took the elevator up from the lobby. I was whisked up to a floor in the mid-three hundreds—brass territory. I don’t mind telling you I was in a sour mood. It seemed like I couldn’t catch a break today.
True to form, when I walked into Turov’s office I met up with some more of my least-favorite people. Her assistant, an adjunct named Gary, was there with his hands up and waving. He was trying to calm an unruly crowd of centurions and a primus or two. They were all trying to get in to see Turov.
“There will be a briefing first thing in the morning,” Gary told them. “Take residence at the barracks downstairs if you need to—and no, there won’t be any reimbursements for anyone who rents a hotel.
Sour grumbling broke out everywhere. I couldn’t say as I blamed them.
“Just tell us what the hell is going on, Gary. Does anyone know?” one ornery primus demanded.
Gary shook his head. “Briefing tomorrow, sir. After that… you’ll probably be deployed to the Harbor District.”
“What? That’s a hog’s job. This is a cluster-fuck of the first order.”
Gary shrugged. He really didn’t care much. He was Turov’s eye-candy, and he’d never been paid for his brains or his compassion.
“Sirs, I’ll see you all in the morning.”
They turned away and left after that, complaining about everything, even the ornate décor. Turov had always liked her gold-leaf embossed doors and her thick carpets. These extravagant details never failed to irritate the mid-level officers who noticed them.
When the last of them had slouched out the door, I slammed it behind them.
“Damnation!” I said. “What a surly lot of babies, huh? You’re just trying to do your job. You’d think they’d know that.”
“What do you want, McGill?”
“Why, to see Turov, of course.”
Gary twisted up his lips and shook his
