“Because, my good Winslade, I did everything I promised. I led this expedition with unerring speed and navigation. We penetrated the Skay defenses with ease, and we destroyed the enemy with great expediency.”
“We did nothing of the kind. In fact, we were duped and led into a dangerous political trap.”
Armel’s eyes flashed, but he also looked concerned. The girl he’d been chatting up sensed the shift in mood, and she exited the scene right-quick. That was the Shadowlander way. They either fought to the death or vanished on you. Apparently, Armel wasn’t yet worthy of any kind of struggle on her part.
“Has something gone wrong?” he asked.
“McGill, arrest this vagrant traitor.”
With a sigh, I snapped a gravity cuff on Armel’s wrist. He didn’t resist. Instead, he looked me in the eye. “Does your word mean so little, McGill?”
Winslade interposed his narrow skull between the two of us. “McGill’s promises were based on you acting in good faith. Come along. McGill, bring the prisoner. We’re going down to the brig.”
Armel managed to swig a last gulp of his drink, then came along with us. He wasn’t sputtering and demanding that we explain our actions. He was too clever for that. Instead, he was eyeing us both intently.
He asked a few probing questions, but Winslade waited until we had him down at the brig before he offered any answers.
“A private room, please,” he told the jailors.
“Ah, Sub-Tribune Winslade. It’s been a while, sir. Right this way.”
We were led to a cell which was unlocked. We stepped through, and the rattling door was slammed behind us.
“Hmm…” Armel said, eyeing the shiny stainless steel chair in the middle of the chamber. “This doesn’t look like the penthouse I was expecting.”
“Take a seat, please,” Winslade told him.
Armel made a break for it. He cuffed Winslade—but the weasel dodged it. Then, he tried to slip past me. I shot out a long leg with a hook-like ankle at the end of it. Armel went sprawling.
We tossed him into the chair, and Winslade hummed to himself while he worked the various clamps and buckles. “There we are. I trust you’re comfortable.”
“Smug barbarian. At least tell me why you’re doing this? Or is it true that Varus people are all cackling demons at heart.”
“Now, now, don’t get yourself worked up. We’re here to ask a few questions, that’s all. At the beginning of each question, there will be an incentive applied. When you’re all out of viable options for this process, things will get nasty.”
“Incentives? What are you talking about?” Armel watched in alarm as Winslade produced a black velvet bag. The bag rolled open to reveal a variety of tools. There were scissors, scalpels, long-handled wire cutters and even a small bone-saw.
“McGill!” Armel said, and he sounded plaintive indeed. “Tell him I played you fairly, man!”
“Winslade,” I said. “As far as I know, Armel is innocent of all accusations. There’s no proof he had anything to do with trapping Dominus in enemy territory.”
“No proof? Come now, McGill. You made the argument yourself. Don’t go soft on me.”
“Ah!” Armel boomed. “I get it. I’m to be blamed for foolishness on the part of Earth’s leadership? Is that it?”
“The enemy knew we were coming, Armel,” Winslade said. “We’ve established that. They had enough time to pack up and move on. We caught nothing other than a few of their pathetic mutants.”
“The dog-people? The rest were gone?”
“That’s right. Now, to the first incentive.”
There was a sudden, snipping sound. Armel howled and squirmed.
“There you go. Nothing much, just a little sting to sharpen the mind.”
“My toe is off, man! You ghoul!”
“Don’t worry. We’ll print out a new Armel if everything goes as planned. For now, however, here is the promised question: when did you contact the enemy and tell them Dominus was about to run the Skay border?”
“What? I never did that. You must believe me, Sub-Tribune!”
Winslade gave a little sigh and made a tsking sound. The snips clacked again, and I winced. Armel screeched and struggled in his bounds. One of his pinky fingers was missing.
“Take notes, McGill,” Winslade told me. “Did you see that? I switched it up. I’m not into working the same boring toes one after another. All too soon, the subject will become accustomed to the discomfort. If they never know where you’re going to strike next, however, the mind stays sharp.”
“That’s all very well and good, sir—”
“Listen up and you might learn something. A man like this has twenty-nine ‘edits’ you can easily make by removing appendages and protrusions.”
“Uh… twenty-nine, sir?”
“That’s right, including the ears, nose and nipples.”
“Oh…”
Armel didn’t look happy with our little discussion. “You monsters! You haven’t even asked me a second question yet.”
“You’re correct,” Winslade told him. “But we don’t really have that many questions. Far fewer than we have parts to remove. Still, I’ll reward your powers of observation with a second chance at the last one.”
“I didn’t contact anyone. How could I? Check your deep-link logs, fool. Run scans on my tapper. I’ve been wandering this Lavender Deck for days in boredom.”
“Offering yourself up to any female who might listen, I’m sure. But I have to give you credit, that’s almost an answer. You’re saying you told them before we boarded Dominus. Hmm…”
Armel caught my eye again. “McGill. Tell him. Do what is right.”
Winslade’s eyes slid from his red-smeared tools toward me.
“Tell me what?” he asked.
Putting on a show of squirming a bit, I sidestepped so that I was standing over Armel. “Well sir, there’s a bit more to the story of my involvement with this man than I might have explained clearly.”
“How’s that?” Winslade crossed his skinny arms and gazed up at me with suspicion.
That’s when Armel drew
