"Someplace to go," Keifer repeated the words, smiling. "Your father's apartment here in Red Sands is yours. I'll have one of our enlisted men show you the way. And take your time about things, Tremaine. No one is rushing you."
Alan thanked him and said, "What about General Olmstead and his daughter?"
"Don't you worry. Naturally, they're prisoners of war. But they'll be well-cared-for here. We're civilized people, Tremaine."
They shook hands again, then Alan followed a militiaman outside, through the corridors of Red Sands to a large apartment quarried in the rock wall of the underground city. He dismissed the enlisted man and found a bent, elderly figure waiting for him inside.
The man had gray hair and thin, stooped shoulders—as if he had spent the better part of his life pouring over books. He spoke in a thin, reedy voice, choked with emotion. "Is any one waiting for you outside?" he inquired.
Alan shook his head.
"Then listen to me. I shouldn't be here. If Keifer knew—" the elderly man shrugged "—I don't know what might happen. Alan, I am Eugene Talbrick. Does the name mean anything to you?"
"Yes," Alan nodded. "My father wrote about you often. He said you were always a pillar of strength to him, a...."
"No matter," said Talbrick. "You have heard of me. Alan, the good name of Tremaine is being used to bathe the solar system in blood!"