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criminals!”
    “There’s no mistake, Captain,” the chargé d’affaires said mildly. “These orders were signed by Governor Sirhan, as you can clearly see. If you’d like to call his office to verify that, please feel free to do so.”
    “Damn right I will!” The officer reached for a comm unit.
    The subsequent conversation with an aide in the Governor’s office was short, to the point, and not at all to the Captain’s liking. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did,” he growled at the diplomat as he ended the call. He transferred his scowl to Steve. “You accept full responsibility for these prisoners, right? Anything goes wrong, any of them escape, we’ll hold you accountable for it, understand?”
    “I understand,” Steve replied as calmly as he could, restraining his impulse to shove the man’s rudeness back down his throat on the end of his fist.
    “I’ll have my guards assemble the prisoners in the mess hall. They’ll escort them to your transporters, but no further. Once they’re aboard, they’re your responsibility. How many guards did you bring?”
    “None.”
    “None? Are you crazy? They’ll be over the tailgate and away before you’ve gone a hundred meters out of the main gate!”
    “As you said, Captain, that’ll be my responsibility. I think we can deal with it. I’d like to speak to a few of their leaders before we load them, if you’ll please arrange for us to use an interview room. Mr. Jiang will give you their names.”
    “All right, but it won’t do you any good.”
    Orders were issued and guards scurried to obey them. The Captain led Steve and the chargé to a stark white room with a barred window and a steel security door. It contained only a round table and half a dozen chairs.
    “I’ll have them brought in here while we assemble the rest,” he snapped, then turned on his heel and stalked off without waiting for a reply.
    “We seem to have offended his sense of the fitness of things,” Steve murmured to Mr. Jiang. “Why is he so upset? Has he had trouble with your people?”
    “He feels they don’t give him sufficient respect,” the other replied softly.
    “And?”
    “It’s really not for me to say,” Jiang hedged.
    “I hope they do better with us, otherwise they’ll be back in here before long,” Steve warned. “Please make sure they understand that before we leave. If they’re not prepared to cooperate, better for all of us if they stay here.”
    “I’ll make sure they understand. You don’t mind if I speak Mandarin with them if necessary?”
    Steve grinned and said in that language, “I don’t mind at all. I’ve been studying it for two years along with my wife, who knows about my relationship with the Tong. She suggested it might be useful, and it gave us something to do together during a number of trips on recruiting duties.”
    “Well!” Jiang replied, also in Mandarin, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “That was certainly enterprising of you both. Do you read and write it, as well as speak it?”
    Steve switched back to Galactic Standard English. “Less well than we speak it, but we’re still learning. Fortunately, hypno-study makes that much faster and easier. You might want to mention to your people that I speak the language. I wouldn’t want any of them to think they can talk freely in front of me, and give away Tong secrets by doing so.”
    Jiang looked quizzically at him. “That’s very considerate of you. Many people would have taken advantage of the situation to learn all they could.”
    Steve shrugged. “The Tong’s always treated me with respect, and I’ve tried to do the same in return. This is part of that for me.”
    “Thank you. I’ll make sure they understand.”
    The tramp of marching feet came down the corridor towards the interview room. Four tough-looking guards ushered four men and a woman into the room. All were handcuffed behind their backs, and Steve felt his face flush with annoyance.
    “Remove those