"Theatrics, Mr. Olmstead. You are in no position to do anything of the sort. You can save us both a lot of trouble if you answer my questions."
"Get out of here," General Olmstead said.
Shrugging, Keifer called over his shoulder: "Guard!"
Two strapping figures entered the chamber and waited for orders.
"Take Mr. Olmstead to another room, please. I wish you were more reasonable, Mr. Olmstead. We need that information badly."
Struggling and cursing, General Olmstead was borne from the room. "Don't worry about me," Laura called after him. "We both have a duty to Earth."
"This is ironic," Keifer said after the door had closed. "I had planned it thoroughly. We have men here who are experts in an art which was old when civilization was young."
"Torture?" Laura said. "My father won't—"
"I said it's ironic. I never expected you, Laura. The General has a daughter, a common, ordinary girl. He loves her. He sees things in her no one else does. But you—you are beautiful. Listen to me, Laura. Your father is an experienced professional soldier. We can use him here in Red Sands. If we make an alliance, the Federation could hold all of Mars in a week."