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Alexander?"
"I'll agree to that."
"Thank you. I'll have it drafted," David said. "Major, you said you could assure the loyalty of the Coast Guard Auxiliary. I'd like to know how."
"Ah-we have equipment-"
"Lie detectors?" Alexander asked. There was an edge to his voice.
"Something like that, sir," Prince Lysander said. "They're-" He looked to Peter Owensford. "Perhaps I'd better not say? It's non-intrusive. Nothing anyone can object to."
"Hah." Baron von Alderheim looked thoughtful.
"Sir," Peter said. "I presume everyone here has taken some kind of oath of office? With criminal penalties?"
"Yes, yes, of course, everyone here is sworn to the Privy Council," David said.
"Fine," Peter said. "Then we can begin here. And we may as well start now."
"Start what?" Elayne Rusher asked.
She was a woman of indeterminate age. Peter guessed fifty, but he would have believed anything between forty and sixty. She was attractive but not especially pretty, and gave Peter a feeling of confidence. Like having a competent big sister. "Loyalty testing, Madame Attorney General."
She frowned. "How do you propose to do that?"
Peter shrugged. "It's simple enough. What part of Sparta do you come from, madam?"
"I have always lived in the City," Rusher said. "And how will knowing that help?"
"You'd be surprised at what helps, madam," Peter said. "Do you know any rebels?"
"Dion."
"Of course, and his supporters. Who else?"
"No one else-"
Peter looked to Captain Alana. "Catherine?"
Captain Alana had been staring at her oversized wristwatch. "Loyal, but defending someone. She suspects someone. I'd guess a close relative, but perhaps a friend of a relative."
"Why-What in the world makes you think that?"
Catherine smiled. "A good guess, but it's true, isn't it?"
Rusher sighed. "Close enough. My daughter Je
You've hardly had time-"
"You just told them," General Desjardins said. "Voice stress analyzers. I've heard about them, but I didn't think anyone but CoDominium Intelligence had them."
"That's what everyone thinks," Peter said. "And we want them to go on thinking it. Mr. Plummer, do you know any rebels?"
"Of course not. Other than Citizen Croser." He smiled thinly. "I take it I'm being tested now? Should I be concerned?"
Just relax, sir," Catherine said. "Would you mind telling me your mother's maiden name?"
"All clear," Catherine Alana said. "See, that wasn't so bad."
"I can't say I like the implications," Henry Yamaga said. "As if you suspect us-"
"Sir," Peter began.
"Let me, sir," Ace Barton said. "With all due respect, my lords and ladies, this is a war of information.
Determining who is and is not trustworthy is most of the battle. If your rancher-"
"Velysen," Desjardins said.
"If Mr. Velysen had known who among his guards were traitors, he'd be alive, and so would his women.
Frankly, I'd think speaking a few sentences into a computer would be a small price to pay for peace of mind. While we're at it-Madame Rusher, I'm sure we'll all feel much better if Catherine were invited to di
"It's a bit distasteful," Rusher said. She paused a moment. "But yes, thank you. Captain, could you and your husband join us for di
"I'd be delighted," Catherine said.
"So. One less thing to worry about," Peter said. "Now, I presume that you were pla
The civilians looked at each other, embarrassed; it was a little like what BuReloc did to troublemakers on Earth, with the added refinement that Sparta intended to use them as ca
Alexander sighed. "Our Citizens are mostly native-born now, family people, and we have an open land frontier for restless youngsters. The people BuReloc dumps on us are mostly single adults, six-tenths men," he said.
"And many of them come from four, five, six generations who haven't worked, haven't got the concept of work anywhere in their mental universe. We tell them to work or starve, and it takes starvation to make them work-or military discipline, we presume. Some younger Citizens will be volunteering as well; we'll pass the word through the Brotherhoods, and Prince Lysander's exploits on Tanith have made the Legion pretty glamorous on the video." He looked with fond pride at his son; Lysander had been brooding at the gruesome pictures from the Velysen ranch, but he blushed slightly at his father's words.
Owensford nodded. "It's infiltrators I'm worried about," he said frankly, glancing over at the Alanas.
They nodded. "One thing has to be understood," Owensford said. "A legio
Freedman raised an eyebrow. "And what does that mean, Major?"
"Literally what I said, Sire. Your Citizens, your non-citizens, your civilians have various civil rights which we'll do what we can to get our troops to respect; but once they've signed up as soldiers, we expect their loyalty, and that loyalty includes cooperating with our investigators to determine that they are loyal."
"Yes, of course. And I suppose that includes the RSMP. It doesn't appear that General Desjardins has any objections."
"On the contrary, Majesty," Desjardins said. "I'm quite confident of the loyalty of my men, but it can't hurt for everyone to be certain."
A clock chimed in the background. "Other duties," Alexander said. "We'll continue this tomorrow, but I take it we are all agreed that the primary mission of the Legion has not changed? Thank you. David?"
The two kings rose, and the others in the room followed. "Until this evening, Colonel," Alexander said.
"We've laid on a welcoming banquet at the Spartosky, that's our local social center." He spread his hands. "Political, I'm afraid, but necessary. The food's decent, at any rate."
Geoffrey Niles leaned back against the rear of the booth and took another sip of his drink, coughing slightly at the taste of the raw cane spirit. The Dead Cow was hopping tonight; it was autumn, after all, and the outbacker hunters were mostly in town with their summer haul of tallow and skins. Money to pay off some of their debts to the banks and the backer-merchants, money to burn in a debauch they could remember when they were freezing and sweating in some forsaken gully in the outback. There was a live band snarling out music, and a few tired-looking women in G-strings bumping and grinding in front of them; more were working the tables. A solid wall of noise made most conversation impossible, although not i
"Interesting, sir, eh, what?" Niles said to the man beside him. Kenjiro Murasaki smiled thinly and kept his eyes on the crowded chaos of the room.
Dammed wet blanket, Niles thought.
You couldn't find a place like this on Earth anymore. Oh, there were dives enough if you had a taste for slumming, but an Earthside slum was a dumping-ground for the useless, the refuse of automation and the gray stagnation of a planet locked in political and economic stasis by its ruling oligarchies. There was a raw energy here, the sort he imagined might have been found on America's western frontier or the outposts of the Raj two centuries ago. These were not idlers, they were hard men who went out and wrested a living from a wilderness still imperfectly adapted to Terran life. He looked at the stuffed longhorn steer on the wall behind the long bar, lying toes-up and flanked by wolf heads, legacy of some demented Green back in the early days.