“Dealing with Fleetlord Reffet may have something to do with it,” Atvar told him. “Dealing with Big Uglies may have something to do with it, too. In different ways, they drive a sensible male mad.”

That assumed he was sensible. Straha made no such assumption. But he kept quiet about the assumptions he did make. Atvar held his fate in his fingerclaws. All he said was, “You are not quite the male you were.”

“No one who comes to Tosev 3 escapes unchanged,” Atvar said. “But you have not answered my question. Have you any plans for making a living if you are allowed entry into the greater society of the Race?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Straha said. “I was thinking of drafting my memoirs and living off the proceeds of publication. I am, I gather, notorious. I ought to be able to exploit that for the sake of profit.”

“No one who comes to Tosev 3 escapes unchanged,” Atvar repeated. “When you were a shiplord, you would never have debased yourself so.”

“Perhaps not,” Straha said. “But then again, who knows? I have had unique experiences. Why should others not be interested in learning of them?”

“Because they were illegal?” Atvar suggested. “Because they were shameful? Because your descriptions of them may be libelous?”

“All those things should attract interest to my story,” Straha said cheerfully. “No one would care to read the memoirs of a clerk who did nothing but sit in front of a monitor his whole life long.”

“No one will read your memoirs if they are libelous,” Atvar said. “You are not in the United States any more, you know.”

“Exalted Fleetlord, I do not need to be libelous to be interesting,” Straha said.

“I will be the judge of that, when my aides and I see the manuscript you produce,” Atvar said.

Had Straha been a Big Ugly, he would have smiled. “You and your aides will not be the only ones judging it. I am sure Fleetlord Reffet and many of the colonists would be fascinated to learn all the details of what happened before they got here. And, as I say, I doubt I would need to distort the truth in any way to keep them entertained and their tongues wagging.”

He waited to see how Atvar would take that. He despised Reffet almost as much as Atvar did, but if he could use the fleetlord of the colonization fleet as a lever against the fleetlord of the conquest fleet, he would not only do it, he would enjoy doing it. And, sure enough, Atvar said, “You mean you will go out of your way to embarrass me and hope Reffet will like the result enough to let you go ahead and publish it.”

“That is not at all what I said, Exalted Fleetlord,” Straha protested, although it was exactly what he’d meant.

“Suppose I let you get away with that,” Atvar said. “Suppose I pretend not to notice whatever you may have to say about me. Will you include in your memoirs passages indicating the need for a long-term Soldiers’ Time here on Tosev 3, to help stop the endless grumbling from the colonists? The Race, after all, is more important than either one of us.”

Straha hadn’t expected that, either. Yes, Atvar had changed over the years. To some degree, that made him harder to dislike, but only to some degree. Straha made the affirmative gesture. “I think we have a bargain.”

“Imagine my delight.” Atvar broke the connection. No, he wasn’t so hard to dislike after all.