“Can I name joint beneficiaries? I’d like to name my brother and sister.”
“We can certainly do that…”
As she linked the data into the Trust’s systems, Van had a feeling similar to the one that had come over him when he’d first received the orders for the Fergus to relieve the Collyns off Scandya. He was jumping blind into a future that was more uncertain than anything he’d ever faced.
Chapter 43
After they finished at Nabatan Trust, Desoll guided Van to a nearby restaurant, where Van ate dishes that he’d never tasted, much less seen, but which would have delighted Dad Almaviva.
Near the end of the meal, the older man looked at Van. “I’ve got a few items to follow up on. You might as well look around, and I’ll meet you at the shuttle terminal at sixteen hundred.”
Once Desoll was on his way, Van used a pubcomm to call the Republic embassy and ask for directions. It took two different guide-ways to get to the embassy, a truncated pyramid of a pale greenish white stone that still seemed blinding in the early afternoon sun.
He stepped through the shaded outer archway, then through a nanite-based climate barrier into the cooler air of the public area. There, he found a vacant console, where he put through a call to the third secretary.
An image appeared against the wall behind the console, and Van couldn’t tell if it were Emily or a simmie. “Ah…this is Van Albert…”
“Commander?” The surprised expression clearly indicated that the respondent was Emily, and not a simmie. “Where are you?”
“Down in the public area of the embassy. I just got here, and I was hoping you might have a few minutes.”
“I’ll make them. I’ll be right down.” The image vanished.
Van walked away from the console and toward the archway his implant indicated security devices, then stopped to wait.
He’d been standing there for several minutes when a Taran Republic Marine appeared. “That area’s off-limits, fellow.” The tone was polite, but clearly unwelcoming.
Van turned and forced a smile. “I know.” He produced the card with his commodore’s ID. “And it’s commodore to you, Corporal. I’m waiting for the third secretary.”
“Ser, I don’t care…”
“Corporal!”
Van was actually pleased to see Emily’s look of disapproval, and he was certainly not the only one to recognize its force, because the Marine stepped back.
“Commodore Van is one of the most decorated officers in the RSF,” Emily went on. “He was also the military attaché at the Scandyan embassy who saved the prime minister there.”
Emily was wearing a slightly mussed tan singlesuit that tended to wash her out, along with a darker brown jacket, but to Van she looked marvelous, even with her stern expression.
The corporal took another step back. “Yes, ser.” He nodded to Van. “I’m most sorry, ser.”
“You were doing your duty,” Van said politely, although he could tell that the Marine didn’t seem all that sorry. “Carry on.” He turned his back on the corporal and faced Emily. “I won’t be in Kurti long, but I’d hoped I could catch you.”
Emily brushed back a strand of disarrayed hair, then smiled. “We’re in the middle of various projects, but…I can…I mean, I’m so glad you could…”
“So am I. I won’t take much of your time, because I have to catch a shuttle a bit after sixteen hundred.”
“My office would be best.” She gestured toward the archway.
Van followed her, noting, as he passed through the security scanning, how simple the protocols seemed with his new implant. As in Valborg, the senior staff offices were on the second level, up a long ramp that doubled back on itself once.
Emily closed the door to her small office—again a single room—and sat down in one of the two chairs opposite the console. “I can’t believe you’re here, Commander, I mean, Commodore.”
Van took the other chair. “Just Van. The rank doesn’t mean much when you’re retired.”
“For a moment downstairs, I almost didn’t recognize you without the uniform.”
Van grinned. “I do fit in around here a bit more.”
Emily flushed. “I didn’t mean that.”
Van could sense she hadn’t, and wondered why he was so sensitive. Had it been the Marine? Then, he had been sensitive all his life. He just hadn’t dared to make any comments. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t.”
“How did you ever get to Kush, Commodore? Or should I ask?”
“Van,” he reminded her again. “And you can ask. I’ll even answer. I’m now in training to be a command pilot for an Eco-Tech outfit…” As briefly as he could, and omitting the actions on Sulyn to murder him, he summarized his hiring by IIS.
“You must be going to do more than pilot a ship from point to point. I can’t imagine you being happy doing that, and you don’t look miserable.”
Van offered an exaggerated expression of misery. “Is that better?”
“You look like you’re in pain, not misery.”
Van laughed, and then they both did. “I’m supposed to be handling a bunch of other duties as well, but the training for that will be in Perdya, I understand.” He paused, not sure of what else to say, before asking, “How are things going here?”
“As well as at any embassy, and better than at some. The ambassador’s good, and so is the first secretary. The second secretary’s more like a male version of Cordelia, but not quite as sharp…”
“There aren’t many that sharp,” Van said, before adding quickly, “She’s so sharp that I came out of meetings looking for wounds.”
Emily smiled, but Van could sense the tiredness behind her smile.
“You’ve had a hard week, I take it?” he asked.
“Enough to wish I didn’t have six years for minimum immediate retirement. Yes. There’s a dissident group here…refugees from Sulyn…” Emily looked down. “I mean…”
“You don’t have to soften it. Sulyn’s
