matter what decision he made.
He said, “You’re very sweet Alicia, and certainly this has been the most memorable night I have ever spent. However, as you say, we hardly know each other. I suggest that we
She remained in the bed, one of the black sheets up to her neck, as he went into the bath and showered and used depilatory on his face.
She watched him, her startling green eyes thoughtful, as he went to the closet for his clothes.
When he brought the uniform forth, she said, “Oh, good heavens, Don. You don’t want to wear that again. Just leave it there. One of the servants will pick up after you. There’s an order box in the dressing room, over there. Order fresh clothing.”
He looked at her. “I’ve only worn it once.”
“Once is enough,” she said, yawning.
“Don’t you ever wear anything more than once?”
“Seldom,” she said. “Only if it has some sentimental value, or something.”
He shrugged and went into the dressing room, to the screen of the large order box, and verbally ordered a fresh colonel’s uniform and the haberdashery to go with it.
When he had dressed, he went back to the bedroom and bent over and kissed her. If anything, she looked more beautiful than ever with her hair mussed every which way and her cosmetics a victim of the night’s tussling.
“Thank you,” he said simply and turned and left.
In the living room he approached the elevator door which opened automatically at his approach. Before he could say anything into the screen, it said, “There is a message for you, Colonel Mathers. A hover-limousine awaits you on the lawn.”
He had planned to go down to the motor pool in the basements of the Interplanetary Lines Building and take a hovercab to the space base.
But he said, “All right. Take me there.” He probably would have had his work cut out finding his way from the building. It was possibly small by the standards that applied to Lawrence Demming, but it was a labyrinth to Don Mathers.
The compartment moved sideways, for not too great a way, and then the door opened. He found himself looking out upon the extensive gardens, the groves of trees and the lawns, of the unbelievable park Demming had built atop his building.
He wasn’t too far from the terrace upon which he had first met Demming and Rostoff. The hover-limousine was even parked in approximately the same spot.
Cockney was standing next to the vehicle, holding the rear door open. His partner was up front at the controls.
Frank Cockney, his bluish lips in his thin face trying to make with a smile, said, “Good morning, Colonel Mathers. We’ve been instructed to take you to the base.”
“All right,” Don said, getting in.
The other hesitated before saying, “And congratulations on your victory, Colonel. There’s never been anything like that before. Ever.”
“Thanks,” Don said. So these two weren’t in on the secret either. Which was good, of course. It would seem that they were part of Demming’s security staff. Bodyguards, in other words.
Cockney got into the front, next to the other goon and the vehicle took to the air in a swoop.
On the way to the base, Frank Cockney turned and said to Don, “You know, Colonel. I never would have dreamed when we saw you that last time, you’d wind up the biggest hero in the solar system.”
“Neither did I,” Don said.
Cockney said, “You know, I never could figure out why Mr. Demming wanted to talk to you. He must’ve had some instinct, like, that big things were going to happen to you.”
“He’s a smart man, all right.”
Cockney frowned, as though in puzzlement. “But how could he have known you’d pull the big one, and finally it’d wind up with this big corporation?”
“What big corporation?” Don said warily.
“Oh, everybody knows about that.”
Don said, making it clear he didn’t want to continue the conversation. “It’s still unannounced.
We’re supposed to keep everything quiet for the time.”
Cockney said, “Yes, sir. I wasn’t trying to pry.” He turned back in his seat, obviously unhappy.
Don had expected to be left off at the main gate and to have to proceed to the administration buildings on a hovercart, but to his surprise the limousine flew right onto the base grounds. Evidently, Demming’s vehicles had clearance.
“Where to, Colonel?” Cockney said.
“To the Space Command Headquarters, Third Division. It’s over…”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot said, his voice as expressionless as his heavy face. “I know where it is.” Don remembered his name, Bil Golenpaul.
They slithered up before the main entry of the administration building and Golenpaul set it down, gently. If nothing else, he was a competent pilot.
Cockney popped out and ran around to open Don’s door.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “We’ll wait, right here.”
Don said, “No. Go on back. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Our orders were to wait and bring you back, when you got through with your business, Colonel Mathers.”
Don looked at him. “And my orders are that you get out of here. I’m not sure that I’m going back. Not immediately.”
Cockney’s faded eyes shifted, in furtive fashion. He said, “But our orders…”
Don was feeling belligerent. He said, “Get out of here or I’ll call over that squad of guards and have you thrown out.”
The small man looked at him in dismay. “Yes, sir,” he said. He climbed back into the hover-limousine looking apprehensive. Don assumed he was worrying about what to tell Demming.
Well, the hell with Demming. It was bad enough having to live in his establishment, as Alicia called it. He wasn’t going to put up with the other dictating every move he made.
He strode toward the entry and the squad of guards there sprang to stiff salute, presenting their laser rifles with precision. Inwardly, Don was amused. He had gone through these portals hundreds of times before and not a guard had ever batted an eye at him, not to speak of coming to attention.
Their lieutenant approached him and saluted snappily. “Could I be of assistance, Colonel?”
Don smiled and said, “No thanks, Lieutenant. I know my way around.”
The other was a few years younger than Don Mathers. He said, admiration in his voice. “You certainly do, sir.” He stepped aside.
The doors opened and Don entered and retraced the route he had been over so many times.
But this time was with a difference. The hustle and bustle dropped off. The chatter of the voco-typers and other electronic business machine equipment fell away. He could hear a multitude of whispers and even made out some of them.
“That’s him…”
“Holy Moses, the Galactic Medal of Honor…”
And a feminine voice, “How would you like to be able to date
Doors opened magically before him. Guards presented arms, rather than asking for identification. If there was anyone in the solar system not acquainted with his face by this time, they must have been in remote areas indeed.
Eventually, he stood before his immediate commander, Commodore Walt Bernklau. Don came to attention and tossed the other a snappy salute.
The commodore returned it, just as snappily, and leaned his small body back in his swivel chair. He said,
