“Oh, come now!” Pierre chided. “You know what happened in Silesia wasn’t really Giscard’s fault! The only reason he had to be ‘rehabilitated’ at all was because Cordelia’s handling of the situation meant we needed a scapegoat.”

“Agreed. Agreed.” Saint-Just waved both hands in the air. “And as a matter of fact, Eloise Pritchart is one of the few senior commissioners who isn’t concerned that her charge is succumbing to McQueen’s charm. Which, I have to admit, makes me feel a little better about the entire situation. Pritchart’s always had a high opinion of his military ability, and she’s commented favorably on his political reliability, but she really doesn’t like him very much. It’s like pulling teeth for her to say good things about him in her reports, so I take the fact that she’s satisfied as a good sign.”

“Well, then,” Pierre said with a shrug, but Saint-Just shook his head.

“You’re missing my point, Rob. I’m not saying Giscard deserved to be made a scapegoat. I’m just saying he was made one, and we still haven’t invented a way to see inside somebody’s head. Disaffection can begin in lots of ways, and being singled out for public blame and humiliation over something that wasn’t your fault is certainly one of them. So however reliable he may have been in the past, I have to bear in mind that the possibility of future unreliability may have been planted in there to sprout later.”

“But if he pulls this off, we’ll slather him with all the praise and positive publicity a man could want. That should help repair any past damage.”

“Maybe, and maybe not. But be that as it may, it’s a chance I’m willing to take, especially with Pritchart keeping an eye on him. Actually, I’m more worried about Tourville than I am about Giscard.”

“Tourville?” Pierre sat back in his chair and tried very hard not to sigh.

“Tourville,” Saint-Just confirmed. “You and I both know Cordelia planned to have him purged when she got him back to Haven—probably for trying to protect Harrington from her.”

“We know we think she wanted him purged,” Pierre corrected, and Saint-Just snorted a laugh.

“Rob, let’s be honest with each other here. I mean, Cordelia’s gone—and a damned good thing, too—so we don’t have to stroke her anymore. And you and I know better than anyone else that she took a personal pleasure out of eliminating anyone she thought was an enemy.”

“Yes. Yes, she did.” Pierre sighed. And, he reflected, that was the big difference between her and you, wasn’t it, Oscar? You’re ruthless as hell, and completely willing to eliminate anyone you think is even a potential threat. I imagine you sleep a hell of a lot better than I do, too… but you don’t actually enjoy the killing, do you?

“Damn right she did,” Saint-Just said, unaware of the Chairman’s thoughts. “The only reason she would have dragged him all the way to Cerberus and then back here with her was to make a big, ugly, public show trial out of it, and you can bet your ass he knew it, too. That’s the real reason I sat on him and his crew for so long.”