“None, sir. It apparently goes against their strongest beliefs. May I congratulate you, general, on the first bloodless invasion in the known universe! You will soon have captured this entire planet for the greater glory of Nevenkebia—without losing a single soldier.”

“Don’t cheer too soon, captain. Medals don’t go to generals who bring back the troops intact. Battle! That’s where the glory is! There will be fighting, mark my words. It is human nature. They can’t all be cowards on this planet.”

“Lowender—what’s happening?” a familiar voice asked and my blood temperature fell about ten degrees. I did not move, stood stiffly with my back to the speaker. The general pointed.

“We have our first prisoner. General Zennor. I have been questioning him. He talks nonsense. No army, no police he says.”

“And you believe him? Where was he caught?”

“At the generating plant, by Captain Drem there.” Zennor glanced at me, then away. I kept my back straight and my face expressionless as he suddenly turned around to face me again.

“Where do I know you from, captain?”

“Training, sir. Maneuvers,” I said in the deepest voice I could muster. He walked over and pushed his face close to mine.

“That’s not true. Somewhere else. And you were with someone else…”

His eyes lit with recognition and he stabbed his finger at me. “The Bishop! You were with The Bishop—”

“And you killed him!” I shouted as I dived and got the three-seconds-to-death stranglehold on his neck. One second… unconscious. Second second… limp. Third…

All the lights went out. There was a great deal of pain in the back of my head and then nothing. My last thought was—had I held the grip through the third second?

Chapter 17

A measureless time later I was aware of pain spreading from the back of my head down through my body. I moved to get away from it but it would not leave. It was dark—or were my eyes closed? I had no desire to find out. Everything hurt too much. I groaned and it sounded so good that I did it a second time. Vaguely, through the

• groaning, I was aware of my shoulders being lifted and something wet on my lips. I gurgled and spluttered. Water. It tasted very good. I drank some and felt slightly better. The pain was still there, but not so much that I couldn’t risk opening one eye. I did. A face swam blurrily above me and after a certain amount of blinking it became clear.

“Morton… ?” I muttered.

“None other,” With an expression of abject gloom. He pulled at me until I sat against the wall and my head appeared to be exploding in tiny bits. His voice barely penetrated.

“Take this, in your mouth. Drink some more water. The doctor said you were to swallow it when you came to. For the head.”

Poison? No such luck. Medicine. The pain ebbed and rose and finally slipped away to a dull ache. I opened my eyes all the way and saw a sad-looking and bruised Morton framed against a background of bars. “Is he dead?” I croaked. “Who?”

“General Zennor.”

“He looked very much alive when he was here about half an hour ago.”

I sighed drearily—and with mixed emotions. I had wanted vengeance, wanted Zennor to pay heavily for being responsible for The Bishop’s death. I thought that I had wanted him dead as well. But having tried murder this once, really tried it, I was glad that I had been stopped. Now that I had made my first homicidal attempt I discovered that I did not really enjoy the process of killing people. I was a failed killer. And in failing I had really got myself in the cagal. And had pulled Morton in too.

“Sorry about all this,” I said. “I got so carried away I never stopped to think that I would probably implicate you as well.”

“Sergeant Blogh turned me in when the MPs came to investigate. He knew I wasn’t an officer. I told them everything. Even before they knocked me around.”

“I’m to blame for what happened.”

“Don’t think like that. Not your fault. They would have got me sooner or later, one way or the other. The army and me, we are just not on the same plane. You did your best, Jak.”

“Jim. Real name is Jim diGriz. From a distant planet.”

“Nice to meet you, Jim. You a spy?”

“No. Just here to right a wrong. Your General Zennor was responsible for the death of my best friend. I came here looking for him.”

“What about that talking bird and all the other stuff?” I touched my fingers to my lips and looked at the door. Morton shook his head in puzzlement, I spoke up before he could add anything.

“You mean that talking bird joke I was going to tell you, about the kid in school who had the talking bird who turned into an alcoholic and became a missionary? I remember the joke—but I forgot the punchline.” Morton was now staring at me as if I had gone out of my mind. I looked around and discovered that I was lying on a thin mattress resting on a very dusty floor. I used my finger to write QUIET—THEY MIGHT BE LISTENING! in the dust. I looked at his face until he finally caught on, then rubbed out the message. “Anyway, Morton, I don’t feel like telling jokes now. Where are we?”

“Big building in the city. Looks like the army took it over. They must be using it for aheadquarters or something. All I know is that they brought me here in a rush, worked me over then dumped me in here with you. The building is full of soldiers.”

“Any civilians?”

“None that I saw…”

We both looked up as the lock rattled in the door and it opened. A lot of armed MPs pushed in and pointed their guns at us. Only after this did General Zennor enter. He had a bandage around his neck and the urge to kill in his eye.

; “Are you sure that you are safe now, Zennor,” I said as sweetly as I could. He came over and kicked me in the side.

“Aren’t we brave—” I gasped through the pain. “Kick a wounded man lying down.”

He drew his boot back again, thought about it, then drew his pistol and pointed it between my eyes.

“Get the other prisoner out of here. Leave us alone. Bring me a chair.”

One thing about the military, they just relish following orders. With much shouted commands and stamping of boots Morton was hustled away, the MPs vanished, a wooden chair appeared and was placed respectfully under the general’s bottom. He sat down slowly without taking his eyes or the gun muzzle off of me. He did not speak until the door clicked shut.

“I want to know how you got here, how you followed me. Everything.”

Why not? I thought, rubbing my sore side. I was too knocked about to make up any complex lies—nor was there any need. The truth would be easier. With a little editing of course.

“Everything, Zennor? Why not. The last time I saw you was when you sold us down the river on Spiovente. That is a rough planet, and no place for an old man like The Bishop. He died there—and that makes you responsible for his death.”

He touched the bandage on his neck and snarled, “Get on with it.”

“Little more to tell. A few wars, murder, torture, the usual thing. I survived only to be rescued by the League Navy who also arrested me and brought me here. I escaped from them and found you because of your one big mistake.”

“What nonsense are you speaking?”

“No nonsense. Truth, Captain Garth. Didn’t you have the girl. Bibs, arrested for selling dope?”

“That is not important.”

“It. was to Bibs! She is a free woman now, you will be unhappy to hear, and before she left she told me how to find you. End of story.”

He weighed the gun thoughtfully, his finger caressing the trigger. I tried not to notice it.

“Not quite the end yet. You are the spy who landed in Marhaveno?”

“Yes. And penetrated your slack and incompetent army. Then rose in rank until I got you by the neck and gave you a good choking. When you wake up at night in a cold sweat remember—1 could have shot you just as well. Now, are you going to shoot me, or are you just playing with that gun?”