In the morning, they came for him, two Space Service colonels. By their insignia, both were commanders of Space Monitors.
Don didn’t have his cap on, so he didn’t salute. Not sure what this day held for him, he had refrained from getting even moderately drenched the night before and was now in good shape.
The first colonel said, snap in his voice, “The President of the Solar System League sends his compliments and requires that you attend an extraordinary session of the Parliament of the Solar System League.”
“Yes, sir,” Don said.
Pierre brought his hat.
They left formally, not speaking, eyes straight ahead.
This time Don Mathers was not shielded from the lobby. They marched out the front entry. There were four infantrymen there, all captains, but armed with laser rifles. They snapped to attention. Hotel guests and pedestrians stared. Don was still incognito. Geneva was used to VIPs but they didn’t recognize this one in the uniform of a space sub-lieutenant.
They drove in silence to the Palais des Nations.
At the entry, there was an honor guard of spacemen. They presented arms, or snapped to salute, as Don and his two colonels entered.
He was marched up this corridor, down that, and finally wound up in an enormous auditorium. He was marched to the podium. There were six men there, five seated, one standing. The one standing was a Black. Don obviously knew who he was. He also knew three of the others. They were continuously on the news.
The two colonels saluted, wheeled and marched off.
The Tri-Di cameras were already fully operational.
Kwame Kumasi, this decade’s President of the Solar System League, stepped forward. Don Mathers stood to rigid attention.
The President read the citation. It was short, as Galactic Medal of Honor citations always were.
“… for conspicuous gallantry far and beyond the call of duty, in which you single-handedly and against unbelievably desperate odds attacked and destroyed an enemy cruiser while piloting a One Man Scout armed only with a short beam flakflak gun.”
He pinned a small bit of metal and ribbon to Don Mathers’ tunic. The Galactic Medal of Honor was possibly the most insignificant looking medal in the history of military decorations. It was a tiny cross of platinum, on a red ribbon, without inscription.
The president, his ebony face beaming, said, “Colonel Mathers, only twelve of these decorations have ever been awarded in human history before.”
Don said, ”
Kwame Kumasi smiled and said, “Donal Mathers, you are famed for the fact that you disobey the orders of even your highest ranking officers. However, as President of the Solar System League I am your ultimate commander-in-chief, and you must not contradict your commander-in-chief,
The packed chamber reverberated with cheers and applause.
When it had died somewhat, Don Mathers said simply, “But I only did my duty.”
It was a slogan that was to sweep the solar system. During the following months when anyone active in defense performed a task beyond the call of the expected, he or she invariably said, when commended, “But I only did my duty.”
The President looked into the face of Don Mathers and said, “As President of the Solar System League, I hold the most prestigous position for a member of the human race to achieve. However, Colonel Mathers… I wish I was you.”
At the time, it didn’t occur to Don Mathers that he was the
VII
The President, still beaming, had shaken hands and said, “And now, Colonel Mathers, it is to be assumed that you have relatives and friends who are most anxious for your company.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Don said. It was a dismissal. He did an about face and retraced the route the two colonels had brought him along earlier. The Tri-Di cameras followed him all the way to the door. The assembly was applauding again.
However, the President had been incorrect. Don had neither relatives nor friends waiting for him here—even in North America the nearest relatives he could think of were an aunt, somewhere out on the West Coast and two cousins of whom he had long since lost track.
Short though the time had been since he had first entered the auditorium of the Parliament building, there was already a crowd before the Palais des Nations, perhaps as many as a hundred persons. They applauded as he descended the steps. Some were obviously news-people, complete with their complicated equipment, but the majority were evidently passersby who had heard the broadcast.
Some pressed closer, and for the first time in his life Don Mathers was asked for his autograph and then again and again. Others wanted to shake his hand, and shook. He rather desperately fielded questions from the media people.
No, he had no immediate plans other than to return to his base and to duty.
One of the reporters called, “Have hopes of getting another Kraden, Colonel?”
Don laughed ruefully.
Was he married?
“No.”
“Did he have a fiancee?”
Don set his face. “There was a labor shortage in the new mining developments on Callisto. She signed up for a five year tour, feeling it her duty beyond personal affairs.” It was a lie, but it sounded good. Dian had most definitely severed their relationship.
The crowd was getting bigger by the minute. Before he knew it he’d be in a mob big enough to crush him.
He held up his two arms. “Please,” he said. “I have things I must do.”
Somewhat to his surprise, they meekly pressed back and opened a way for him. When he hurried through, none followed. He had to admire their courtesy. In Center City autograph hunters and celebrity seekers were on the more aggressive side.
He made his way down the Avenue de France, in the direction of the lake, not knowing exactly what he had in mind, now that he was on the town.
He spotted an auto rental agency and entered. A clerk came up to him, blinked in sudden recognition, and said, “Just a minute, Colonel Mathers.” He turned and sped off to return in moments with an older man, obviously one of the enterprise’s top staff, if not the owner.
He said unctuously, “It is a pleasure to welcome you, Colonel Mathers.”
Don said, “Look, I’d like to rent a car but the trouble is I don’t have my driver’s license. I left America quickly without being able to get hold of my papers.”
The other smiled. “But you are Donal Mathers. You don’t need a driver’s license. You don’t need any kind of a license, to do anything, Colonel.”
That hadn’t occurred to Don.
“What model appeals to you?” the other said, indicating a large selection with a sweep of his hand. Several of the employees had come around and stood back away goggling the hero.
He said, pointing out a very recent model sports number. “That’s a beauty.”
“The keys are in it, Colonel.”
Don brought his Universal Credit Card from his uniform tunic. “Do I pay now? Or leave a deposit?”
“The car is yours, Colonel Mathers.”
