Harlis shivered in his little cabin, and realized that he did not want to die. He found himself rubbing his ears, and yanked his hands down.
He had never really liked the staff at Sirialis. They were Bunny’s people, and though they treated Family members with due courtesy, he knew they were not his. He had always wanted an empire of his own—his estates were not enough. He had thought hiring his own military force was a good idea. His private space navy, his private army—then he could have what he deserved, and forget about Bunny.
He had his meals with the officers, with Taylor always at one end of the table and himself at the other. It was here, even more than in the working parts of the ship, that the difference between himself and these men showed up most. He had grown up in a sea of politics, playing at power even as boy—he’d thought he knew all about it. When he’d pressured old Trema into leaving him her shares, he’d been, he was convinced, as straightforward and pragmatic as any admiral planning a war.
No. He had been held back, he now realized, by his own shrinking flesh. He had not himself gone to Trema’s house; he had not himself risked injury or discovery by any of the acts he’d hired. These people had no such scruples. They were as direct as a blow. The uniformity of their dress, which also excluded him (his best-cut suits looked slovenly next to their uniforms), proclaimed them.
Finally one day, Taylor commented, “I fear we alarm Ser Thornbuckle.”
“Alarm me?” Harlis said. He could feel his pulse speeding up. “In what way?”
“You’re looking at us like a deer at a hunter,” Taylor said, grinning. “Wondering what’s going to happen.” He licked his lips. “The difference between us, Ser Thornbuckle, is that I don’t worry about what will happen, because I intend to make it happen . . . my way.”
“It’s not always that easy,” Harlis said.
“No . . . war is not easy. Nor is hunting. But it’s that or letting the human race degenerate to a lot of parlor ornaments, unfit for anything but eating and breeding. Something has to clean the genome, Ser Thornbuckle, and we can’t all be Registered Embryos. But I don’t expect much trouble at Sirialis. If you’ve told us the truth, they have no system defenses worth speaking of, and no defense against armored shuttles. Morever, the shuttles stored at the three orbital stations will increase our transport capacity.”
“Unless someone back at Castle Rock thought to tell them we might be on the way,” Harlis said.
“And who would do that?” Taylor asked.
“It’s just possible someone figured it out,” Harlis said. He could feel himself starting to sweat. “My niece—Brun Meager—she was just named the Barraclough Sept heir. Stepan chose her. I was going to . . . to persuade her to come along. She has all the codes. But she and that disgusting woman from the Lone Star Confederation went out to dinner before we could—”
“You idiot,” Taylor said. “You said you weren’t a fugitive.”
“I’m not. I wasn’t, anyway, when I said that. And I don’t think I am now. She doesn’t know who—”
Taylor gave him a look that stopped the words in his throat. “Even if she’s too stupid to figure it out, someone will. And you left tracks all over the place—with Allsystems—”
“I told them I was going to Burkholdt and Celeste.”
“And you think they’ll believe that? After you made a grab for the girl and didn’t get her?” His face hardened. “You lied to me, Thornbuckle, and I don’t like being lied to.”
“It wasn’t a lie—” Harlis said. “At the time, it was true—”
At some signal Harlis didn’t catch, the two officers nearest him slid out of their seats, and before he could push back from the table they had his arms twisted behind him.
“I don’t like liars, Thornbuckle. And I don’t accept excuses. Is that clear?”
Harlis remembered the pain from childhood, when boys were forever tormenting each other, but this was worse . . . boys knew about twisting arms but not about the nerves more subtly available to skilled fingers. The pressure increased steadily, hot flares of pain in shoulders, neck, elbows, wrists; his mouth opened involuntarily, and he gasped.
“I asked you a question,” Taylor said, and someone grabbed Harlis’s hair and pulled his head back. Through the tears of pain in his eyes he could see Taylor and the others, sitting there calmly and enjoying his pain.
“Yes,” Harlis said finally, in a sort of grunt.
“Yes, what?” Taylor prompted. Harlis glared at him.
“I said yes,” he said. “I’m the one who hired you!”
A hard punch from behind rammed him into the edge of the table.
“You’re the one who lied to me,” Taylor said. “I’m not your servant, or your peasant. When you hire troops, you don’t lie to them. Not if you want to live long. Now, again: is that clear?”
“Yes . . . sir.” The sir was wrung out of him by a last twist of the arms that made it clear his shoulders would come loose if he didn’t say it. At a nod from Taylor, they released him, and he fell back into his chair. His shoulders hurt; his arms hurt . . . most of all, his pride hurt.
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” Taylor said. “You’re going to tell me everything you did, and planned, and thought, and heard . . . everything . . . and you’re going to do exactly as you’re told by me or by any of these officers. We will continue to treat you well, as long as you do not disobey us, or lie to us. But withholding information, or lying, or disobedience, will be punished.”
Harlis nodded, speechless, hoping he wouldn’t be made to say “yes, sir” again.
“Finish your dinner. We’ll talk afterwards.”
Taylor said, “We need money, and we need a secure base. You promised us both, and now you can’t deliver—”
“I can—I have the money, all I have to do is get it. I have the access codes for the family ansible, at Sirialis—that’s communication with anyone you want, free. I have the access codes for family accounts, as well as my own. There’s information—stuff Bunny’s wife had—about family businesses and things. And the place itself has money.”
“You’re sure you have the codes.”
“Of course I’m sure. Bunny was my brother; I’ve had the codes since I was in my twenties. Look, you’re worried about pursuit, but is there really any way Fleet could get there before we do?”
“No . . .”
“And even if they do, you could just hide. It’s a whole system—”
“That’s why we couldn’t. It’s too empty. But we could make a fast passage, see if your codes work, get some money, and head out.”
“You won’t need to,” Harlis said. “I keep telling you, I’m Bunny’s brother. Everyone on the planet knows who I am. They’re not going to give you any trouble.”
Over the course of the next several days, Harlis answered hundreds of questions about himself, his family, his fortune, and Sirialis. Taylor recorded all of it. Harlis knew how that would look to his family if they got hold of the cube. He’d heard that in storycubes the hero always managed to find some way of showing that he was being coerced. He couldn’t think of anything that Taylor wouldn’t recognize and punish.