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the greatest moments of my life, Commodore, was when Combine T'Lan selected me for training. Me, D'Trelna"—he touched his hand to his chest—"a slum kid from 8'Lag Two with nothing but a bleak future in some stagor mine ahead of him. They took me, they sent me to the best schools, trained me, groomed me for my career. And then, the ultimate trust, they revealed themselves to me, and explained everything."
    D'Assan looked beyond D'Trelna for a moment, eyes shining with the beatific vision of that revelation. The look vanished and he waved a finger at D'Trelna.
    "It's Combine T'Lan who are the outcasts, Commodore. It's your friend R'Gal who is of the old order—an infiltrator, a subvertor even now leading your friends to destruction."
    That shook D'Trelna. "How do you know about R'Gal and ..."
    "And the battleglobe they've 'captured'?" D'Assan smiled. "R'Gal's communications to his friends here are monitored."
    D'Trelna shook his head. "Sweet crap again, Councilor. Combine T'Lan undoubtedly's in touch with their home universe. It knows about the capture of the battleglobe."
    "Fine." D'Assan seemed to have reached a decision. "My final argument. If I am the unknowing dupe of alien slime, why haven't I or they had you killed, Commodore? Why am I discussing this with you, civilized being to civilized being?"
    D'Trelna thought about that for a moment. "Two reasons: one, a convert is always more useful than a corpse, and two, Captain My Lord H'Nar L'Wrona, Hereditary Lord Captain of the Imperial Guard and Margrave of U'Tria—my friend and your enemy. A strong and influential man whom you'd use me to weaken—if I bought your 'grand lie, grandly told.'" He folded his arms and waited impassively.
    D'Assan stood, expressionless. "We won't be seeing each other again, Commodore," he said, touching the door signal set in the wall.
    D'Trelna didn't turn as the thick slab of gray battlesteel slid open—not until he saw amazement and consternation cross D'Assan's face. "Admiral L'Guan," said the councilor, recovering with a warm smile. "An honor."
    The Grand Admiral of the Fleet stepped into the room. He was an impressive figure, from his silver mane of perfectly coiffeured hair to the soles of his gleaming handmade boots—elegant in brown and gold uniform, twin comets of silver on his collar. Ignoring D'Trelna, he smiled at D'Assan, nodding. "Councilor."
    "To what do I owe . . ."
    "The pleasure?" said L'Guan. "Well, I was here to see Commandant W'Tal off to his new posting ..."
    "You've replaced the Commandant?" said D'Assan uneasily.
    "Why, yes. Promoted to Admiral Second and posted to Red Seven Quadrant—we've still got a corsair problem out there."
    "He'll be delighted, I'm sure," murmured D'Assan. "I believe the corsair problem has claimed Red Seven's last five senior field officers."
    "While talking with W'Tal," continued the admiral, "I was advised that not only had Implacable been captured, but that DTrelna was being held on Council warrant pending transfer to Fleet. So I'm here to take him in tow." Reaching into his tunic, he removed a folded piece of paper.
    D'Assan read the transfer receipt. "All in order and still warm from the printer," he said, folding the document and tucking it away. "You work quickly, Admiral." He took a communicator from his pocket. "I'll ask the commandant to give you an escort."
    L'Guan placed a firm hand on the other's wrist, forcing hand and communicator to the table top. "Not to worry, Councilor. I have a battalion of commandos with me." As if on cue, two black-and-silver-uniformed commando officers appeared in the doorway.
    "Then I'll be going," said D'Assan. "Good day. Admiral."
    "Good day, Councilor," said L'Guan.
    The admiral and the two officers stepped aside as D'Assan left.
    "Bring the prisoner to the commandant's office," ordered L'Guan. Not looking at D'Trelna, he left the room.
    D'Trelna and the two officers fell in behind L'Guan, footsteps echoing in time down the long gray