"In a manner of speaking," Lord Robert said. "They, at least, are in no discomfort."
"They're dead?"
"I'm afraid so," Lord Robert said. "Not that you would really care."
The rebel leader was mistaken there, Tarlac thought grimly. He did care, very much, about the Navy pilot and the four Security Division Marines who had volunteered for the mission that had cost them their lives—but he couldn't let those feelings show. "What do you plan to do with me?"
"Trade you for rule, I think, rather than fight for it," Lord Robert said consideringly. "That way, none of my people suffer. And I think I should be able to get … oh, a Subsector at least for you."
In spite of his position, Tarlac had to laugh. Lord Robert was deluding himself if he honestly thought the Emperor would make that sort of trade! "You must know better than that, my Lord. The Empire doesn't make deals with criminals."
"I think His Majesty will make this one, Highness. You are, after all, his newest Ranger, and he is bound to want to keep you; Rangers, for whatever reason, are scarce enough to be worth trading for an entire Sector." Lord Robert looked thoughtful. "Yes, a Sector would be even better. Myself as Duke, my lieutenants as Earls and Counts, other officers as Barons—that would be just enough." He scowled. "There may even be places for my beloved parents and sister, once they acknowledge that I am truly the best of them, cheated out of what is due me by the accident of being born second."
"You're welcome to try, but you'll be disappointed." Tarlac remained outwardly impassive, though he was becoming convinced that Lord Robert was, to use the Marine expression, firing from a dead powerpack. Well, he could manage to tolerate a couple of days like this while Lord Robert called the Palace and tried to negotiate; then the time limit he'd given the colonel in charge of his ship's Marine forces would expire, a company or more of power-armored Marines would land to pull him out and take prisoners, then—if necessary, which he hoped it wouldn't be—his ship would destroy the base and any of its personnel who chose not to surrender.
"We'll see," Lord Robert said, smiling. "In the meantime, I think your capture is cause for celebration."
His people evidently agreed; not long after he left, they began party preparations, bringing out folding tables and loading them with food and drink—mostly drink. Their festive mood didn't extend to the young Ranger, though; Tarlac found himself the object of curses, gloating, and comments about what most would like to do with the ranking Imperial officer who was so totally in their power.