There were hundreds of people in that garden when the assassins began to fire. You, the Keltyr commander, and four security people were the only ones who acted. Two of the security types died, and the rest of you were wounded. It happened so fast, yet you managed to get to the dais almost as fast as security. I just stood and watched. We media types are good at watching, I guess, but I did manage to get off a report to both the ministry and RSF about how you managed to thwart the assassins. I also made sure that the local and interstellar nets got a copy. That was the least I could do.
If you ever do get to Kush—while I’m there—I can assure you of a warm reception. I’d like to see you again.
The signature was just her first name.
Behind the note was the hard copy of a press release. Van didn’t read it. He would, later.
He couldn’t help smiling, if sadly. He’d not only liked Emily Clifton, more than a little, but he’d felt the stirrings of a kind of affection and love he’d never experienced for long, and he wished he’d been able to see her again. He slipped the note back into its envelope, then sat back to rest—and to think—while he waited for his meal.
Chapter 25
In the winter gray light just before dawn, Van woke abruptly. He could hear two voices outside his door echoing in the quiet of the medcenter.
“…another week before the regrowth is solid enough for full-scale therapy…”
“…compare to his previous physical abilities?”
“…should be every bit as good. He’s responded well, and he could even be somewhat better…”
“But it will take time?”
“It’s not something you can hurry, not in a case like this.”
Van waited as the two figures—Dr. Calyen and an RSF commodore—stepped into his room and toward the medcrib, although most of the equipment that had surrounded Van had been removed days earlier—except for nonintrusive monitors.
Dr. Calyen said nothing, standing back from the short, trim, and dark-haired commodore.
The commodore cleared his throat, in the way that small men often did, before beginning. “Commodore, I’m Brion Guffree. Since I was concluding the RSF report on the incident, and since Dr. Calyen said that you were now fully aware and well on the road to recovery…”
Van was being addressed as commodore? He managed not to frown or look curious as he waited for whatever would be revealed by the words of the other officer.
“…I just wanted to let you know that you’ve been awarded the Republic Cross by the council for your exemplary efforts in saving the premier of Scandya. You’ve also been promoted to commodore, effective the first of Septem…”
Awarded the second highest decoration—for what amounted to stupidity in facing an armed squad of assassins? Or dumb courage at best? And promoted? “Ah…” Van found himself stammering. He concentrated and forced out the words. “I did what I could.”
“You did it very well, Commodore.”
“What happened? You said you were part of the inquiry. What can you tell me?” asked Van.
“There were eight assassins in and around the light display. Your actions allowed Kelt security—and the premier’s bodyguards—to stop them.”
“Who were they?”
“We still don’t know. I don’t think anyone does or that anyone ever will. All eight were advanced-stage clones, and they all dropped over dead, some even before being taken into custody, the rest before they could be interrogated. Some sort of reactive nerve poison, triggered by programming. There was no way to revive any of them, and it appears that no one knows for whom they worked. The clones did have Revenant gene patterns, but that’s not conclusive.”
“Because anyone could have used a pattern from another culture?”
“Exactly. They could have worked for anyone. Each government knows what it knows, but the guilty party isn’t about to admit it. It could have been a local group as well. We may never know. Premier Gustofsen was unhurt, and he even managed to win the fall elections. Scandya has stepped up its security screening of visitors and immigrants, and has requested that no out-system ships larger than standard cruisers enter Scandyan system spaces. The Revenant government has charged that the attack was Argenti-backed, and the Argentis have suggested that only the Revs had anything to gain by the death of the premier…” The commodore shrugged. “Nothing has really changed.”
Van doubted that, but he just nodded, before asking, “Do you know where I’m likely to be posted? Or is it too early in my recovery to say.”
Guffree did not quite meet Van’s eyes. “The doctors say that it could be another six months to a year before you’d be in the same physical condition that you were before the attack…and could return to duty in that status…”
“Could?” Van didn’t like the sound of that.
“Oh, Dr. Calyen has assured me that your health will be perfect when you leave here. That’s not quite the question.” Guffree spoke quickly, as if he wished to get through the next words. “Because you were so severely injured, the Review Board also recommended that, once your rehabilitation is completed, you be granted a full retirement stipend as a commodore.”
“But if I’m not permanently injured…?”
“Commodore, you lost both an arm and a leg. You suffered severe internal injuries. The doctors say that, after rehab, you’ll be as good as new, perhaps better. But full rehab is likely to take as long as a year, and in cases where such lengthy medical care is required for a senior officer, it’s been found that retirement is more appropriate…and in your case, a full career retirement is certainly deserved.”
Van didn’t know what to say. He knew he never would have been promoted to commodore had he not been wounded, yet…“I see. I don’t know quite what to say.”
Guffree laughed warmly. “You don’t have to. The Republic rewards its heroes, and we like for them to be
