She grimaced again, and Zilwicki nodded. Isaac Douglas, somewhat to Zilwicki’s surprise, appeared to have attached himself permanently to the countess. Zilwicki had more than half-expected Isaac to accompany Jeremy X, but he remained in Lady Cathy’s service as combination butler and bodyguard. And, Zilwicki knew, as the countess’ clandestine pipeline to the thoroughly proscribed organization known as “the Ballroom” and its escaped slave “terrorists.”

He was also the favorite uncle, preceptor, and assistant protector of Berry and Lars, the two children Zilwicki had formally adopted after Helen rescued them on Old Earth. And a very reassuring presence for them Isaac was, too. And for Zilwicki, come to that.

“Of course,” the countess continued, “he hasn’t exactly told me so in so many words, but he would have told me if he’d thought otherwise. So I suppose he’s probably about as satisfied as we could reasonably expect. Not that I think for a minute that he and the Ballroom—or Jeremy—are prepared to call it quits. Especially not since they know who was on the list and wasn’t convicted.”

She looked acutely unhappy as she finished her last sentence, and Zilwicki shrugged.

“You don’t like killing.” His rumbling bass was gentle yet implacable. “Neither do I. But I’m not going to lose any sleep over the sick bastards involved in the genetic slave trade—and neither should you.”

“And neither do I,” she said with a wan smile. “Not in the intellectual sense. Not in the philosophical sense, either. But much as I hate slavery and anyone who participates in it, there’s still something deep down inside me that hates the administration of ‘justice’ without benefit of due process.” Her smile turned even more wry. “You’d think that after all these years hanging around with bloodthirsty terrorists I’d’ve gotten over my squeamishness.”

“Not squeamishness,” Zilwicki corrected. “An excess of principle, perhaps, but principles are good things to have, by and large.”

“Maybe. But let’s be honest. Jeremy and I—and the Ballroom and I—have been allies for too many years for me to pretend I don’t know exactly what he and his fellow ‘terrorists’ do. Or that I haven’t tacitly condoned it by working with them. So I can’t quite escape the suspicion that at least part of my present… unhappiness stems from the fact that this time I’m afraid it’s going to be happening on my own doorstep. Which seems more than a little hypocritical to me.”

“That’s not hypocrisy,” he disagreed. “It’s human nature. And Jeremy knows you feel that way.”

“So what?” she asked when he paused.

“So I doubt he’s going to do anything quite as drastic here in the Star Kingdom as you’re afraid he might. Jeremy X isn’t the sort to let anything stand between him and genetic slave peddlers or their customers. But he’s also your friend, and even though we didn’t get everyone on the list, the Star Kingdom is still a paragon of virtue where genetic slavery is concerned compared to places like the Silesian Confederacy and the Solarian League. I feel quite confident that he’ll be able to keep himself busy for years with the Sillies and the Sollies who were also on the list without extending his hunt to Manticore. Especially if you and I manage to keep the pressure turned up on our domestic piglets without him turning all of them into ground sausage.”