Cachat frowned. "Who said anything about knives? And they wouldn't need to be long anyway. You can cut a man's throat with a seven-centimeter blade perfectly well. In fact—have you forgotten everything?—that was the blade-length of choice in the academy's assassination courses."

"Never mind," sighed Yuri. "It's an historical reference. There was once a tyrant named Adolf Hitler and after he came to power he turned on the most hardcore of the fanatics who'd lifted him to power. The True Believers who were now a threat to him. Had them all purged in a single night."

Cachat grunted. "I still don't understand the point. I'm certainly not proposing that you purge Diana. Or Major Lafitte or Admiral Chin or Commodore Ogilve or any of the excellent noncoms—Marine and StateSec both—who are the people who lifted you into power. I'm simply pointing out what ought to be obvious: there are lots of sheer thugs on these capital ships and you ought to have the lot of them thrown into prison. A real prison, too—dirtside, where they can't get loose—not this silly arrangement you've got me in."

Diana Citizen's face looked troubled. "Uh, Yuri, I hate to say it but I agree with the Special—ah, Captain Cachat. I don't even care about political reliability, frankly. We're starting to have lots of problem with simple discipline. Lots of problems."

Yuri hesitated. Cachat's face seemed to soften, for a moment.

"You are a splendid shield, Yuri Radamacher," he said quietly. "But the republic needs a sword also, from time to time. So why don't you—this once—let a sword advise you?"

The young StateSec captain nodded his head toward the computer on his desk. The thing had no business still being there, of course. No one in their right mind would leave a computer in the hands of a prisoner like Cachat. Sure, sure, Yuri had slapped a codelock on it. Ha. He wondered if it had taken Cachat even two hours to break it.

But . . . 

A computer was simply part of the dignity of a man like Cachat. To have removed it would have been like requiring Napoleon on St. Helena to sleep on the floor, or wear a sheet for clothing.

Cachat seemed to be reading his mind. "I haven't tried to use it, Yuri," he said softly. "But if you go into it yourself, you'll find my own records easily enough. The keyword is Ginny and the password is Tongue."

For some reason, Cachat seemed to be blushing a little. "Never mind. It was a personal reference I'd . . . ah, be able to remember. That will get you into the list of personnel I spent quite a bit of time assembling while I was operating on this warship. That list will only contain Hector Van Dragen personnel, of course. But you can find the same for the Tilden —more extensive, actually, since I had more time on that ship—stored away on the computer I used while on the Tilden during our mission."

The peculiar blush seemed to darken. "The keyword and password in that instance will be sari and, uh, shakehertail."

Diana burst out laughing. "Ginny—tongue—sari—shakehertail, no less. Victor, you dog! Who would have guessed you were a lady's man? I'd love to meet this girlfriend of yours, whoever she is."

The young man—for once, he didn't look like a fanatic—seemed on verge of choking. "She's not—ah, well. She's not my girlfriend. Actually, she's the wife—ah, never mind. Just a woman I knew once, whom I admired a lot." A bit defensively: "'Shake-her-tail' was a reference to her cover, and, uh, 'tongue' is because—well, never mind. There's no need to go into it."

For once, Yuri was inclined to let Cachat off the hook instead of needling him. Cachat the fanatic, he detested. Cachat the young man . . . was impossible to even dislike.

"Okay, Victor, we'll 'never mind,' " he said. "But what's on that list?"

The fanatic came back instantly. "Everyone I was planning to either arrest or, at the very least, break from StateSec service. Of course, I never thought I could do it all at once. Probably wouldn't even be able to do more than get started, since I had no idea how long Saint-Just would leave me on station here. But you can do the lot at a single stroke."

Radamacher eyed the computer. Then, sighing, got up and went over to it.

"Well. I suppose I should at least look at it."

The first name and entry on the list was: Alouette, Henri. GravSen Tech 1/c.

"Damn," muttered Yuri. "I forgot all about him, things have been so hectic."

The rest of Cachat's entry read:

Vicious thug. Incompetent and derelict at anything else. Suspect him of conducting a reign of terror in his section, to the gross detriment of the section's performance. Arrest at the first opportunity. Most severe punishment possible, preferably execution, if sufficient evidence can be obtained. Certain it can once he is arrested and his section mates no longer fear retaliation. 

"Damn," Yuri muttered again. "I've been slacking off."

The purge took place three night later. On both capital ships simultaneously.

Major Citizen led the purge on the Tilden, since that ship was not as accustomed as the crew of the Hector to having Marines serving as a security unit. Captain Vesey, by then more relieved to see discipline restored than anything else, made no protest. Two of his bridge officers did, including the XO, but that was to be expected. They were led off the bridge in manacles, after all. Both of them had been high up on Cachat's list.

The purge on the Hector was, for the most part, carried out by Major Lafitte's Marines. But it was officially led by Jaime Rolla, whom Yuri had given a brevet promotion to the rank of StateSec Lieutenant the day before.

Again, he'd been slacking off. Yuri had found Rolla's name on another of Cachat's lists in the computer. This one under the keyword and password of hotelbed and ginrummy.

The list had been entitled: Prospects for Advancement, and Rolla's name had been at the top of the list. Cachat's entry read:

Superb StateSec trooper. Intelligent, disciplined, self-controlled. Commands confidence and inspires loyalty from his subordinates. Absurd he still remains in the ranks. Another legacy of Jamka's madness. Promote to brevet Lieutenant immediately. Delay submission of name to OTS. May need him here. 

Yuri had wondered at the last two sentences. He thought of asking Cachat why he hadn't wanted to send Rolla's name to Nouveau Paris as a candidate for StateSec's Officer Training School.

Then, realizing how much he would miss Rolla's steadying presence, he thought he understood. Although . . . why would Cachat care, really? He hadn't faced the problem of carrying through a revolution.

But he left the question unasked. He was irritated enough with Cachat as it was, the way each reading of the lists made him feel like a damn fool.

Just so, he was darkly certain, had Napoleon's jailor felt whenever the emperor beat him at checkers on St. Helena. Again.

Alouette was never arrested. Fleeing ahead of the arresting squad, finding himself cornered, the man tried to make his escape by climbing into his skinsuit, strapping on a sustained use thruster pack, and venturing onto the exterior of the Hector. Presumably—impossible to know—he'd hoped to make it across to the nearest commercial space station sharing orbit with the SD around La Martine.

It would have been an epic escape. Even a highly skilled and experienced EVA rating would have been hardpressed to cross that distance in a skinsuit without a hardsuit's navigation systems to go with the SUT pack.

Alouette was neither superb nor experienced. He never even made it off the warship. Apparently in a panic, he jammed the jets into full throttle and rammed himself into a nearby gravitic array. There he remained for minutes, crushed against the array by the flaring SUT thrusters; which he was unable to turn off, either because he couldn't remember how or—if the fates had mercy on him—because the initial impact had rendered him unconscious.