Go Tell the Spartans by Jerry Pournelle, S.M. Stirling Page A

indeterminate age. Peter guessed fifty, but he would have believed anything between forty and sixty. She was attractive but not especially pretty, and gave Peter a feeling of confidence. Like having a competent big sister. "Loyalty testing, Madame Attorney General."
     
     

    She frowned. "How do you propose to do that?"
     
     

    Peter shrugged. "It's simple enough. What part of Sparta do you come from, madam?"
     
     

    "I have always lived in the City," Rusher said. "And how will knowing that help?"
     
     

    "You'd be surprised at what helps, madam," Peter said. "Do you know any rebels?"
     
     

    "Dion."
     
     

    "Of course, and his supporters. Who else?"
     
     

    "No one else—"
     
     

    Peter looked to Captain Alana. "Catherine?"
     
     

    Captain Alana had been staring at her oversized wristwatch. "Loyal, but defending someone. She suspects someone. I'd guess a close relative, but perhaps a friend of a relative."
     
     

    "Why—What in the world makes you think that?"
     
     

    Catherine smiled. "A good guess, but it's true, isn't it?"
     
     

    Rusher sighed. "Close enough. My daughter Jennifer is seeing a young man from the University. There's something about him—but it's nothing I could justify investigating. How have you found out all this? You've hardly had time—"
     
     

    "You just told them," General Desjardins said. "Voice stress analyzers. I've heard about them, but I didn't think anyone but CoDominium Intelligence had them."
     
     

    "That's what everyone thinks," Peter said. "And we want them to go on thinking it. Mr. Plummer, do you know any rebels?"
     
     

    "Of course not. Other than Citizen Croser." He smiled thinly. "I take it I'm being tested now? Should I be concerned?"
     
     

    Just relax, sir," Catherine said. "Would you mind telling me your mother's maiden name?"
     
     
    * * *

    "All clear," Catherine Alana said. "See, that wasn't so bad."
     
     

    "I can't say I like the implications," Henry Yamaga said. "As if you suspect us—"
     
     

    "Sir," Peter began.
     
     

    "Let me, sir," Ace Barton said. "With all due respect, my lords and ladies, this is a war of information. Determining who is and is not trustworthy is most of the battle. If your rancher—"
     
     

    "Velysen," Desjardins said.
     
     

    "If Mr. Velysen had known who among his guards were traitors, he'd be alive, and so would his women. Frankly, I'd think speaking a few sentences into a computer would be a small price to pay for peace of mind. While we're at it—Madame Rusher, I'm sure we'll all feel much better if Catherine were invited to dinner the next time your daughter brings her odd friend home."
     
     

    "It's a bit distasteful," Rusher said. She paused a moment. "But yes, thank you. Captain, could you and your husband join us for dinner the day after tomorrow?"
     
     

    "I'd be delighted," Catherine said.
     
     

    "So. One less thing to worry about," Peter said. "Now, I presume that you were planning on recruiting mostly transportees for the Field Force?"
     
     

    The civilians looked at each other, embarrassed; it was a little like what BuReloc did to troublemakers on Earth, with the added refinement that Sparta intended to use them as cannon fodder and make a profit on them to boot.
     
     

    Alexander sighed. "Our Citizens are mostly native-born now, family people, and we have an open land frontier for restless youngsters. The people BuReloc dumps on us are mostly single adults, six-tenths men," he said.
     
     

    "And many of them come from four, five, six generations who haven't worked, haven't got the concept of work anywhere in their mental universe. We tell them to work or starve, and it takes starvation to make them work—or military discipline, we presume. Some younger Citizens will be volunteering as well; we'll pass the word through the Brotherhoods, and Prince Lysander's exploits on Tanith have made the Legion pretty glamorous on the video." He looked with fond pride at his son; Lysander