He was squatting beside the red-faced admiral; he had placed his hand on her throat in the same manner as Festina had touched the man. "No pulse," he said.

"Both of them?" Festina broke off pumping the man’s chest and sat back on her heels. "Shit — the League is going to love this."

"Yes," agreed Aarhus. "To lose one opponent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness."

Festina stared at the man she had just been attempting to revive. "How the hell could we kill them both?"

"Perhaps these Shaddill are shamefully weak and fragile," I suggested.

"These people aren’t Shaddill," she told me. "This man is Jhimal Rhee, Admiral of the Brown. The woman is Gunsa Macleod, Admiral of the Orange. They’re members of the navy’s High Council; I’ve met them a few times."

"Oh goody," Aarhus said, "I just helped snuff a high admiral. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ll bet that’s a court-martial offense."

"Rhee and Macleod?" Uclod asked. "Killing them isn’t an offense, it’s a humanitarian service. We should all get a bounty."

The little man was holding Lajoolie, stroking her shoulders… and for once, she was no taller than he, for she had sunk to her knees and was hunched over almost to the floor. She wept piteously — the sort of weeping when the weeper seems terrified to make the tiniest sound, so it is all choked whimpers and sniffles. Uclod squeezed her and spoke gently. "It’s all right, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. You’ve read the files on these bastards. Rhee and Macleod were two of the worst on the council. Rhee arranged for that colony to starve to death, remember? He tampered with the food shipment schedules. When the colonists were dead, he sent in settlers of his own and claimed the whole planet for himself. As for Macleod, she killed her first three husbands for their money. The files absolutely proved it. Remember that, honey? Rhee and Macleod were both dangerous non-sentients, and the League doesn’t give a self-righteous crap what you do to them."

"I do not understand," I whispered to Festina. "If these humans were dangerous non-sentients, how could they journey through space? Would the League not prevent them from doing so?"

"Damn right it would."

She stared at the man, Admiral Rhee, lying motionless before her. Suddenly, she reached for his jacket, ripped up the slap-tab, and tore open his shirt. In the pit of his stomach, where Lajoolie had struck him so many times, his skin had burst under the force of the blows. Beneath lay a crushed mass of wires and electronic circuitry.

"Okay," she said to everyone in the room, "I have good news and bad news…"

The Shaddill And The Admiralty

It did not take long to ascertain that the red-faced woman was also a person of mechanical construction — Aarhus rubbed her arm hard against the sharp edge of a sheet metal container and the woman’s skin split open, revealing a collection of shiny steel armatures.

"You see, honey?" Uclod murmured to Lajoolie. "They were just robots. You didn’t do anything wrong. Doesn’t that make you feel better?"

Lajoolie made an indeterminate noise.

"Makes me feel better," Festina said. "I thought I was losing my edge when I socked that bitch in the jaw and damned near broke my fist."

"Of course," Aarhus said, "you have to wonder why the Shaddill have perfect copies of two

Technocracy admirals." He touched his fingertips to the robot woman’s cheek. "The skin feels amazingly authentic — best meat-puppet I’ve ever seen. Bet she even had a neck-pulse before we bashed the crap out of her."

"What I’d like to know," Festina said, "is whether the real Rhee and Macleod are still back on New Earth… or if they’ve actually been missing for years."

Uclod blinked. "You think these robots had replaced the real admirals? Like… the originals had been bumped off and these robots were the ones sitting on the High Council?"

"It’s possible," Festina said. "Your files claim the original Rhee and Macleod were both murderers. Okay: that means they weren’t sentient. The Shaddill could cold-bloodedly kill the two of them without upsetting the League. Once the real Rhee and Macleod were gone, android duplicates could quietly step in."

"After which," Aarhus said, "the meat-puppets took their places on the council, all the while working for the Shaddill. Sending their masters Admiralty secrets, and doing their best to influence council decisions."

"Yeah," Uclod agreed. "But then the council caught wind of York’s expose. If it ever became public, every high admiral scumwad would get thrown in jail… at which point, they’d be strip-searched and put through medical exams. An X-ray was bound to show that the fake Rhee and Macleod had gears between their ears. So the Shaddill swooped the robots off New Earth, whisking away the evidence before anyone learned the Admiralty had been infiltrated."

Festina nodded. "It explains what brought the Shaddill into this whole mess — when the High Council found out about the expose, the robots did too. They immediately reported to Shaddill Central."

"Hey," Uclod said, glaring at the two machine people, "do you think these ratchet-brains killed Grandma Yulai?"

My friend shook her head. "If your Grandma Yulai was sentient, the Shaddill couldn’t kill her. More likely, the murderer was sent by real human admirals."

"Bastards," Uclod said.

"Utter ones," I agreed. I had spent much of the past few minutes massaging my numbed arm, trying to wake it up. An unpleasant pins-and-needles sensation had begun to twang through the muscles — most uncomfortable, but any feeling was better than none. Meanwhile, I told Uclod, "We shall bring your grandmama’s killer to justice, all in the fullness of time. For now, however, we must deal with the Shaddill… who are also utter bastards, and much closer to hand."

"Good point," said Festina. She got to her feet and called, "Bell! Where the fuck are you?"

Some distance away, I heard the crackly sound of gristle popping. Lady Bell had obviously folded up again, to protect herself during the fight… and she had remained in that position long after the fisticuffs ended. So much for Aarhus’s claim that Cashlings were excellent kick-fighters. It seemed they were simply cowards.

"What do you want?" Bell’s voice asked weakly.

A moment later, she came into view — hobbling most ostentatiously, as if she were desperately injured. Ihad no intention of inquiring what was wrong, but my Faithful Sidekick asked, "What happened to you?"

"The stun-grenade," Lady Bell answered, a theatrical quiver in her voice. "It caught my right foot; I’m sure it shut down at least one of my hearts and three whole lungs."

"Stunners don’t interfere with hearts and lungs," Festina said. "Otherwise, they’d be lethal weapons, wouldn’t they?"

"Are you implying—" Lady Bell began, but Festina cut her off.

"Don’t start. Just ask the ship what the conditions are like outside the airlock."

I expected the lady to whine in protest… but for once she did not argue. Instead, Bell muttered a few words in Cashlingese; a moment later, the gusty ship-soul voice answered with a rapid-fire report that would have interested me greatly if I had understood a word of it.

At last, the ship-soul stopped speaking. "Well?" Uclod asked.

"We’re inside the Shaddill vessel," Lady Bell said. "In a big hangar with lots of other captured ships. Nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere — almost the same as we’re breathing now."

"And the temperature?"

Lady Bell called to the ship-soul, got an answer, and said, "In human measurements, thirty-four degrees Celsius."

"Toasty," Aarhus grumbled. "We’ll all end up sweating like pigs."

"Speak for yourself, Viking boy," Festina said. "Where I come from, thirty-four is a nice spring day." She looked around at the rest of us. "Care for a walk outside?"