Valentine recognized a couple of the phrases from the New Universal Church Guidon, while the rest of him was tensing as he evaluated the muscle. How much was show and how much was go?
"You take him and you'll never see three-quarters of the pilots again", Hornbreed said.
The young man consulted the sheet the warden had handed him. "A man who crashed on his last flight might be worried about his own fate".
"Crashed?" Ariel cut in.
"Wipe that sneer off your face or I'll do it for you", Hornbreed said.
"He was trying to get a lame bird back", Pyp said. "I'd ordered the ship destroyed at the forward field, but he insisted he could get it back. He almost did. She's been salvaged and is being repaired now. He's a damn hero".
"This is the real test, Ariel", the warden said.
"He's going", she said, glaring at Hornbreed. One of the security talked into the mini-walkie-talkie clipped to his epaulet.
Hornbreed shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "You'll think about today. Later".
"Lack of humility. Willfulness", the youth said to no one in particular, but the warden checked off ticks on a pad. "Disparagement. What's the phrase? 'Three strikes and you're cut'?"
"Out", Valentine corrected, watching two men, one with a baton in his hand and the other with cuffs and leg-irons, step inside.
"Max, be quiet. Looks like someone else will have to check your equations at lunch". Hornbreed wore the same bland fatalism Valentine had first met in the desert.
Valentine's hand convulsed over the sword hilt that wasn't there. If he angled it just right, he could open both sets of carotid arteries with a single sweep. Make a red mess of the spotless white robes.
Hornbreed turned toward the girl, chuckled. "One day it will be your turn... I wonder how you'll take the news".
"Our generation will not be tainted", the youth said. Pyp fought with his hands, which were balling up into fists.
"Tell Louisa I'm sorry", Hornbreed said to Pyp as they shackled him. The wing leader was shaking, just a little. Valentine looked away, embarrassed. Just another Quisling, getting what's coming to him from the blood-greased machine he kept moving, he told himself. "I know she loves that house", Hornbreed said as they led him toward the door, where a woman and two other men waited, chained together. "It's gonna kill her to leave it".
"Let's see how clean that kitchen is", Ariel said, looking past Hornbreed. Did she have a tear in her eye? The kids led the procession away. One of the guards didn't like the look of Valentine, and watched him.
"Argent, wait for me in his office", Pyp said. Valentine listened as they walked toward the kitchen. "Last chance, you two. I'm going to fight to get this commuted to a labor term in California. You resist me on it, and, well, I've got old friends in the church, right up to the Archon. I'll make sure there's a set of eyes on you both every time you draw a breath. You so much as yawn during services..".
Valentine hoped for Hornbreed's sake that Pyp could get it done. He returned to the office.
He could still smell Hornbreed's aftershave on the chair. Valentine found the rest of the math impossible.
* * *
Pyp didn't return until after 1500, according to the twenty-four-hour clock on the wall. Valentine spent the time looking at the photos around the office, and didn't like what he saw.
"I'm so tired", Pyp said, sinking into Hornbreed's chair.
"Who was that Ariel to Equality?" Valentine asked.
"How'd you work that?"
"There's a picture of them on the shelf next to the running trophy".
Pyp looked up. "I see. She's his sister. He half raised her after their father disappeared. His mother was useless, from what I know about her. I need some food, or I'm going to upchuck".
"I'm not sure that I want to go back to the cafeteria", Valentine said.
"I know", Pyp said. "Let's go down to the ready room. They have a pizza oven".
The ready room was mostly maps on the walls and old books and magazines on the chairs and chipped tables. A shower hissed down a hall that was marked hygiene. Comfortable armchairs and recliners were grouped around a somnolent television, where Noonside Passions played out the melodrama. Valentine noted that the aging Rebeccah had a new, matronly hairstyle and a church ribbon around her neck. With a better angle Valentine recognized one of the pilots from the rescue helicopter, reading his Guidon. Maybe he was resolving to be a better example of mankind's evolution toward the communal spirit. Or maybe he was just memorizing a phrase or two to trot out to the next purifiers.