Then he settled into the one comfortable armchair in his compact sitting room, and tried to sort out what he knew. There were blatant hints that Cruachan’s death had been murder, and Commodore Petrov had nearly stated as much. Someone had used the embassy system to alter some of Cruachan’s reports after his death. Van would have bet on the RSF security experts investigating Cruachan’s death. Whether they had altered those reports for security reasons or for more sinister ones was something that Van couldn’t have proved one way or another.
Then, there was Cruachan himself. Everyone had thought him honorable and intelligent. He had worked well with Petrov, but he had not liked Colonel Marti. Yet Marti had been complimentary about the commander. Marti had also provided more insight in some areas than had all the RSF and Republic briefing documents. Add to that an unstable Scandyan political situation, so unstable that there were regular protests in front of the Parliament building. Finally, most important personally, someone seemed to have taken a dislike to Van.
Since his thoughts weren’t providing much in the way of insight, Van used his implant to route his inquiry to the local constabulary, calling up a holo image before him.
“Constable Ebbers.”
“Constable, this is Commander Albert from the Taran embassy. Yesterday, you may recall, I was attacked by three men…”
“Yes, ser.”
“Constable, have you found out anything from those young fellows who attacked me?”
The Scandyan officer’s face blanked for a moment. “I regret…No…we have not.”
“Are they still in custody?”
“Just a moment, ser.”
Van found himself looking at a blank projection screen for several minutes, until the image of an older officer appeared. “Commander Albert?”
“Yes? I was just asking if you had found out anything—”
“We did find out one thing, ser.”
“Yes?” Van didn’t like the officer’s tone, as if the man were probing. “Could you tell me what that might be—if it’s possible?”
“We aren’t likely to get much information from them.”
“Why not?”
“All three died last night.”
“What?” Van certainly hadn’t expected that. “In custody? They weren’t that badly hurt.”
“No, ser. You aren’t leaving Gotland anytime soon, are you?”
“I just was posted here.”
“We’ll be sending someone out to see you, probably on oneday. That’s all I can say, ser.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes, ser. We’ll be in touch.”
Van was looking at a blank screen once more. He collapsed it, looking out the window, but scarcely seeing the puffy white clouds over the hills to the northwest. Finally, he triggered his implant. Even through the embassy netsystem, even though he’d reserved the embassy groundcar the day before, it took almost half an hour to go through the forms required to check out the car for the day. He walked down to the vehicle area, and it took another quarter hour to locate the white groundcar and get the duty supervisor to release it.
Emily Clifton was waiting by the main entrance, even though he was ten minutes early. She wore a turquoise green blouse and matching trousers, with a small black belt pack on her left side. Her short blonde hair was swept back above her ears.
“You really want to get away from the embassy, don’t you?” he asked, as she slid into the passenger side of the front seat.
“Just be careful, Commander…or I’ll sit in the back and make you into a hired driver.”
“Bad morning?”
“Bad evening. I spent three hours with Madame Rogh going over the protocol and arrangements for her independence week luncheon.”
“I’ve never met the lady, but the subject sounds hard on everyone.” Van eased the groundcar out through the embassy gate, past the duty Marine, and onto Knutt Boulevard.
“It is. It was so much easier when Mary Gonne was ambassador. Her partner was much more easygoing. Of course, the fact that her partner was female made the Revenants extraordinarily uncomfortable.” Emily’s laugh was almost a giggle of joy.
“I can imagine,” Van said dryly.
“You don’t approve?”
Van laughed. “I had two fathers.”
“You?” After a moment, she added, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Mostly. My mother lived next door with her partner. But she was killed in a climbing accident after I joined the RSF. Her partner moved, didn’t want to stay in the house.”
“I never would have guessed…” Emily shook her head. “And you?” She added quickly. “I’m sorry. That’s terribly rude. You certainly don’t—”
Van brushed off her demurral. “That’s all right. Although my fathers hoped, they never pressed, and, no, I don’t take after them that way. I only hope I do in others, though.”
Emily didn’t say anything, but nodded encouragingly.
“Dad Cicero is one of the most honest men I know. He’s also an exceedingly good advocate. Dad Almaviva is a singer…he can sing anything, and he’s the head of the opera company associated with Sulyn University.”
“They must be something.”
“Why do you say that?” Van asked.
“They let you do what you wanted, not what they wanted.”
“They did. There were a few cautions and hard questions. They pointed out that most of the Republic was far more conventional than Sulyn, and not terribly supportive of officers from a heritage of single-sex partners and darker skins, but, in the end, they let me chart my own course. Both of them still send me cubes, especially when they’re worried about me.”
“I can’t say I hear from my family that much, not anymore.”
“Oh?” Van didn’t know what else to say.
“I left home early. Was an RSF tech for one tour. Liked the ships, but not…that doesn’t matter. Got out and made my way through the university. My mother was killed in a flitter crash ten years ago, and my father had left years before. The only thing he left me, my mother said, was my middle name. Sometimes I hear from my brothers, but not often.”
“That could be hard. I know I still have my family.” Van paused. “Your middle name?”
“Senta,
