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“I’ve got a datapad here—”

“I’m sure you can find some flimsi and a stylus,” Thaal said. Jaxton rummaged around his desk and, sure enough, came up with the requested items. With a shaky hand, using the unfamiliar stylus, Merratt Jaxton began to write.

“ ‘I leave this note for whoever finds me,’ ” said Thaal.

Jaxton had gotten as far as whoever. He froze. “What does that mean?” He knew, of course, but he didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it.

“Why, son, I’m going to kill you once this note is done.”

Jaxton looked up at Thaal and the two other expressionless men. “If I know I’m going to die, then why should I write this note?”

“Because you’re going to have a choice about how you die,” said Thaal in his horrible droid’s voice. “You finish that note for me like a good boy, and I’ll make it quick and easy for you. You fight me, your suicide will be so agonizing people will admire you for having the guts to actually go through with it. It’s up to you.”

Jaxton hesitated, then began to write again. Thaal nodded. “Good. Now, where was I? Oh, right. ‘This began as a noble crusade, for a noble cause, at least as far as I was concerned. To topple the unjust government as embodied in Natasi Daala. I joined forces with Senator Fost Bramsin and Admiral Sallinor Parova to bring this about.’ ”

Jaxton paused and looked up at Thaal. “I don’t know why this even matters to me,” he said, “but for some strange reason, it does. I know why you want me to leave you off the list. But why not implicate Treen and Lecersen, since you’re naming names?”

Thaal chuckled. It came out horribly artificial sounding.

“Because they’re still alive. If they keep their mouths shut, so will I. Don’t even really know what’s up with Lecersen, and Treen’s a sharp old woman.”

Jaxton licked his lips. “ … I could keep my mouth shut.”

Thaal shook his head, almost sympathetically. “No, you couldn’t, son. Besides, that’s a nice tidy list of conspirators right there. Three sounds about right; a Senator and two chiefs—all the bases covered. And all three dead makes it tidier still.”

“We can work something out,” stammered Jaxton.

“No, son, we can’t. It just wouldn’t work. It’s my business to know beings, and I know that much about you.”

He thought about asking Thaal if he could talk to someone, but even as the thought formed, he realized there was no one to talk to. No one who would miss him. He didn’t even have a blasted pet that would miss him, like Dorvan did.

“Keep writing,” said Thaal.

“ ‘I cannot continue living, knowing that my fellow conspirators have died for what they believe is right. Soon I will join them.’ Now sign it.”

“No one’s going to believe this,” said Jaxton, even as he affixed his signature. “They’ll know it’s a murder, and they’ll find you.”

Again Thaal laughed, and Jaxton found himself cringing, ever so slightly, at the sound. “You may be right. Then again”—he nodded to one of his men—“you may not be.”

The man leaned down and to Jaxton’s shock, offered him the blaster. He stared at it as if it were an exotic animal. He could take it, and probably get off two shots—at least one good one to Thaal—before they took him down. Thaal’s tidy little plan would completely unravel and become most untidy indeed.

And that was when Jaxton knew, down to his marrow, that he was a coward after all. Thaal was right. He couldn’t have kept his mouth shut if he were interrogated. He’d have cracked, and cracked completely.

He wished desperately now that he’d just walked into Wynn Dorvan’s office, sat down, and spilled everything. Cooperation could have saved him. His ambition and ego had doomed him. At least the ones he was implicating were already dead. There was something to be said for that.

He took the blaster and held it quietly, awaiting instructions.

“Now, put it in your mouth,” said Thaal. “And then, when you’re ready, pull the trigger.”

Jaxton stared at the blaster, then slowly did as he was told. His breathing came quick around the muzzle, and