“You lot are about as sorry looking as any I’ve seen,” he told them in clipped tones.

That got a reaction at least, as several stirred enough to glare at him.

“We will tell you nothing!” one spoke up.

“You only know one thing that I care to know,” Eric told them, “and you will tell me that.”

They openly scoffed at him, but Eric was of no mind to pay them any attention.

“Technical intelligence, ship locations, tactics . . .” Eric shook his head. “You don’t know any of that, and if you did, I wouldn’t trust a word you told me.”

“So what are you here for, then?” the speaker challenged him.

Eric focused on the only one of them brave or, likelier than not, stupid enough to speak up.

“Who are you?” he asked simply.

The group exchanged glances, confused ones that told Eric probably more than any of them intended.

They expected me to know that.

He held silent, however, knowing that there was a time to goad and a time to lie in wait. One of the first rules of any conflict was never interrupt an enemy who was in the process of making an error, but the corollary was what mattered to him just then. Once they’ve made a mistake, never let them recover from it.

“You know who we are,” the speaker snarled, despite glares from his fellows clearly warning him to shut up. “You and your Oathers wouldn’t have forgotten . . .”

“Enough!”

Eric turned to the new speaker, hiding his satisfaction with a stern glare. “Have something to add?”

“Have nothing to say to you,” the new man said forcefully. “No Imperial does.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem quite true, now does it?” Eric asked mildly. “Alright, if you won’t tell me who you are . . .”

He leaned in, looking them all over. “Then who, or what, are ‘Oathers’?”

►►►

► Colonel Conner met Eric as he stepped out of the cell block, sealing the door carefully behind him.

“Have fun?” she asked dryly.

Eric glanced at the double squad of Marines standing on duty, armed and clearly disappointed they’d not had cause to breach the cell block.

“Yes, actually,” he said cheerfully, starting to walk down the corridor.

Deirdre paced him precisely, the distinct taps of her steps punctuating the softer padding of his own.

“This situation just keeps getting more and more convoluted, you realize,” she said as they walked.

“I’m well aware of that. The Priminae appear to be a fulcrum in this situation, don’t they?”

“These new people, they’re more like us than the Priminae are,” Colonel Conner offered, thinking furiously.

“No,” Eric said stonily. “This Empire, they’re nothing like us. I would wipe out all life on Earth personally before I let us become like this. They led with the Drasin, Deirdre. You don’t ever lead with genocide. Ever.”

She sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way, sir.”