Major Steuben nodded him into the office. Huber closed the door behind him and without preamble said, “Sir! Three of the techs in Central Repair are living at Senator Graciano’s townhouse. That is, Patroklos Graciano, the—”
“I know who Patroklos Graciano is,” Steuben said through his cold smile. “Continue.”
“Right,” said Huber. He was blurting what he knew in the baldest fashion possible. He understood Major Steuben too well to want to exchange empty pleasantries with the man. “We checked—Chief Edlinger and a former tech in my section, that is—checked the combat car they were working on. There’s an extra control chip in the air defense board with an antenna for external inputs. I think it was meant to send the tribarrels berserk while the car was in the middle of Benjamin.”
“You’ve disconnected the chip?” Steuben said. For a moment there was a spark from something very hard glinting in his voice.
“Yes sir, but that’s all we’ve done thus far,” Huber said. His muscles were tight across his rib cage and his tongue seemed to be chipping out the words. In a firefight he wouldn’t have been this tense, because he’d have known the rules. . . .
“Good,” said the major, smoothly unconcerned again. “You’ve properly reported the matter and your suspicions, Lieutenant. Now go back to your duties in Logistics and take no more action on the matter. Do you understand?”
Huber felt the anger rise in his throat. “No sir,” he said. He spoke in a normal voice, maybe even a little quieter than usual. “I don’t understand at all. Senator Graciano is certainly a traitor, probably the traitor who set up me and my platoon at Rhodesville. We can’t leave him out there, looking for another place to slide the knife into us. One more chance may be just the one he needed!”
Steuben didn’t rise, but he leaned forward very slightly in his seat. He wore his 1-cm pistol in a cutaway holster high on his right hip. Inlays of platinum, gold, and rich violet gold-uranium alloy decorated the weapon’s receiver, but the pistol was still as deadly as the service weapon Huber had left with the guards outside the building.
And the dapper little man who wore it was far more deadly than Huber had ever thought of being.
“You’ve shown initiative, Lieutenant,” Steuben said. “Because of that, I’m going to politely point something out to you instead of treating your insolence as I normally would: even if everything you believe regarding Senator Graciano is true, he remains Senator Graciano. He has a large following in the United Cities and is in some ways more influential in the remainder of the Outer States than any other UC politician, his father included. Probably the best way to boost his standing still further would be for off-planet mercenaries to accuse him of being a traitor.”
“Sir, I lost friends at Rhodesville!” Huber said.
“Then you were lucky to have friends to begin with, Lieutenant,” the major said, rising to his feet. “Friendship is an experience I’ve never shared. Now get back to Log Section and your duties. Or submit your resignation from the Regiment, which I assure you will be accepted at the moment you offer it.”
Huber’s lips were dry. He didn’t speak.
“I asked you before if you understood,” Steuben said, his left fingertips resting lightly on the desk top. “You chose to discuss the matter. Now the only thing for you to understand is this: you will go back to your duties in Log Section, or you will resign. Do you understand?”
“Sir!” Huber said. “May I return to my duties now?”
“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” the major said. “And Lieutenant? I don’t expect to see you again until I summon you.”
As Huber walked down the hallway, his back to the door he’d closed behind him, he kept thinking, It’s in the hands of the people who ought to be handling it. It’s none of my business any more.
The trouble was, he knew that at the level of Steuben and Colonel Hammer it was a political problem. Political problems were generally best solved by compromise and quiet neglect.
Huber didn’t think he’d ever be able to chalk up the sound of Kolbe’s body squishing down Fencing Master’s bow slope to political expedience, though.