Bar-El—you knew that when you hired us.' " He spread his hands. " 'And since the old traitor is dead, we had no choice but to retreat. Now, our contract calls for payment under all contingencies. Do you pay us now, or do we have the Thousand Worlds Commerce Department garnishee all your offworld credits until you do?' "
He lit a tabstick and then chuckled. "That is how it was supposed to go, no?"
"Roughly." I shrugged. "But I think I'd have had a bit more tact, a bit more finesse. Shimon, if you knew all that, why? Why did you—"
"Stick my head in the buzzsaw?" He shrugged his head. "I could tell you that I knew that my hang glider gambit would work, but that'd be a lie. True as far is it goes, but . . . Regato told you about Cincinnatus, Tetsuo. About how he chose to come out of retirement, to command the armies of Rome again. I don't think Regato could have told you why. It wasn't just that he wanted the taste of blood in his mouth again. It was the same for him as for me.
"I was a bad husband, a horrible father, and I've never been a good Jew, Tetsuki. But I am a general. Commanding an army is the one thing I do right." His faint smile broadened. "And I wouldn't have missed this for anything." He stuck out his hand. "Which is why we say goodbye here."
"What do you mean?"
He sighed. "You haven't been listening. Let's say I go back to Metzada with you. Do you think there's any chance Rivka is going to recommend to the premier that I get my stars back?"
No. She'd been clear about that; I wasn't to even offer that to Bar-El as bait. Not because she'd been worried about paying—dead collect little—but because he never would have believed it. Metzada's reputation had been badly hurt by his selling out on Oroga; the damage would be irreparable if we let him come back and return to permanent duty.
He nodded. "Correct. This was a special case. I'll be taking the next civilian shuttle up, and then heading back to Thellonee. New Britain colony, most likely—probably just hang around New Portsmouth. Perhaps another special case will come up someday. If you need me, find me." He turned his back on me and started walking from the landing field.
"Uncle?"
He turned, clearly irritated. "What is it?"
"Did you take that payoff on Oroga?"
Shimon Bar-El smiled. "That would be telling."
PART ONE
METZADA
If brothers live together, and one of them dies childless, the wife of the dead brother shall not marry one not of his kin; her husband's brother shall marry her, and perform his duty to her. Her firstborn shall take the name of the dead brother, that his name be not blotted out among Israel.
But if the man refuses to take his brother's wife, then his brother's wife shall go up to the gate, to the elders, and say, "My husband's brother refuses to maintain his brother's name in Israel; he will not perform the obligations of a husband's brother to me."
Then the elders of the city shall call him, and speak to him, and if he persists and says, "I will not take her," then his brother's wife shall come close to him in the presence of the elders, and loose his shoe from his foot, and spit in his face.
And she shall say," This is what is done to the man that does not build up his brother's house."
—Deuteronomy 25:5-9
CHAPTER ONE
The Wolf
Metzada, Central Warrens,
Medical Section, Reconstruction Division
Reconstructive Physical Therapy Department
12/20/43, 1057 local time
Each year it gets a little harder to put it all back together. That includes me, as well as everything else.
I was in a reconstructive therapy session when the deputy premier called.
"Again, Tetsuo, again," P'nina Borohov said, pushing down on my right leg as I tried to raise it.
P'nina was one of the ugliest women I've every seen. Well into her forties, she was easily seventy pounds overweight, thick-waisted with muscle, not fat. Pig-faced, mustached—and with fingers like steel clamps.
One of the ways we're taught to deal with pain is