She was happy to wrench off her helmet as the shuttle taxied to its hard stand. When the big doors opened, they let in a blast of summer heat and the most wonderful air she had ever tasted. It smelled mostly of the volatile chemicals of the shuttle exhaust, but behind the reek she could savor greenery and summer flowers. The air aboardConfidence had been filtered and scrubbed, but still, over time there was a buildup of sweat and dead skin and hair, spilled food and lubricating oil and metal polish, and it produced a deadening musty odor.
In contrast, fresh air was wonderful. It was glorious. It was better than the finest wine.
Sula followed Michi and Martinez out of the shuttle. The docking tubes at the terminal building were incompatible with the doorways of Fleet vehicles, so the officers descended on a metal stairway that had been run out on the back of a small truck. She felt sweat pop on her forehead from the reflected heat of the pavement. Macnamara and Spence helped her out of her vac suit and stowed it in its container.
Final salutes were made, final good-byes spoken. She said her farewells to Haz, Giove, Ikuhara, Macnamara, and Spence. Some of the lieutenants piled into rented transport that had driven out to meet them, and the rest followed the enlisted on a walk across green grass to the train station.
For herself and Martinez, Michi had rented a pair of vast slate-colored Victory limousines, the same model that Casimir had painted eleven shades of apricot. Michi had offered Sula a ride as well, and she had accepted.
Alikhan, Jukes, and Michi’s servants piled the luggage into the second vehicle. Sula, who had brought only the minimum number of uniforms and a pair of rifles, had neglected to acquire statues, figurines, and works of art, and possessed no porcelain blazoned with the Sula crest, no hand-cut crystal, no bed linen, no foam pillows cut to the shape of her head and neck. She simply asked Alikhan to put her vac suit into the baggage compartment of the first car along with her trunk and her rifle cases, and went to join Michi and Martinez in the passenger compartment.
A polite young Lai-own stepped into her path. He held a crisp creamy envelope in one hand, an envelope sealed with a ribbon and a blotch of wax, and a datapad in the other.
“Beg pardon, Lady Sula,” he said. “If you will sign that you have received this?”
She signed the title “Sula” and ducked into the car. The inside of the limousine featured cut crystal vases filled with fresh flowers. The seats were maroon leather and very soft. Michi was dragging a bottle of champagne out of a bucket of ice, and Martinez helped her open it.
Sula opened the envelope, read the contents, and began to laugh.
“What is it?” Michi asked.
“Blitsharts!” Sula cried. “It’s another deposition!”
Michi stared at her blankly. Martinez grinned.
“It’s how we first met,” he said.
Sula and Martinez explained to Michi how they had encountered one another on a mission to rescue the famed yachtsman Captain Blitsharts and his equally famous dog Orange. It was the first time they had worked together, the first time they had experienced the near unity of thought and action that sometimes seemed to make them a part of some higher being.
“Except that once I got to him, Blitsharts turned out to be a corpse!” Sula said.
A Fleet Court of Inquiry had ruled the Blitsharts death accidental, but the insurance company was appealing in civilian court, claiming evidence of suicide, and now a new round of depositions was scheduled.
Michi smiled indulgently as Martinez and Sula relived the past. When the torrent of memory had ceased, Michi undid the top button of her tunic, licked spilled liquid from her fingers, and raised her glass.
“I’d like to make a toast,” she said.
“Wait a minute,” said Sula. She found a glass of sparkling water in the little refrigerator, opened it and poured it into a champagne glass.
“To a campaign well fought,” Michi said.
Sula rang her glass against the others. “And to our next,” she said.
Michi raised her eyebrows at this, but drank in silence.
The limousine left the second vehicle still loading and pulled away. Sula saw that saplings had been planted to replace the trees on the verge of the airfield, those the Naxids had cut to give their guards a proper field of fire.
The Terran driver took the Axtattle Parkway into the city. She had never seen the Axtattle from this point of view, and she looked for the building where she and Action Team 491 had laid their first disastrous ambush against the Naxids. She found the place easily enough. The facade of the building was still pocked by the thousands of bullets the Naxids had fired in response.
“What are you looking for?” Martinez asked.
She told them, described the disastrous ambush and their frantic escape. Other sights visible from the elevated highway triggered additional memories, and she described the Bogo Boys’ ambush of the Naxid flying squads, her visit to the illegal hospital set up for the victims of the Remba bombing, the way she’d visited a Judge of Interrogation in her Green Park home and threatened her into releasing an imprisoned comrade.
She looked at Martinez as she finished this anecdote, and saw a deep, appreciative awareness kindle in his eyes.
It seems she’d impressed him.
Well, she thought.That was good.
“Will you be seeing old members of your army while you’re on planet?” Michi asked.
“Yes,” she said, “absolutely. Though I’m starting with a courtesy call on the lord governor tomorrow, to assure him I’m not here to overthrow him. After that I’m just going to be living quietly for a few days, get over the trip and the time change.”
Another few details added to the map, to let Martinez know that she had no activities planned for the next few days and might be available for a rendezvous.
She’d already sent messages to Julien and Patel, and they were planning a raucous Bogo Boys reunion in four days’ time. She’d visit Sidney when she could, and invite Fer Tuga, the Axtattle sniper, to pay her a visit. She’d also send greetings to Sergius Bakshi, though she wouldn’t see him unless invited.
She wondered what Martinez would think of the more raffish element among her friends. She wondered what they would think of Martinez.
She was looking forward to finding out.
The Axtattle Parkway broke into several avenues as it approached the High City, and the driver chose a route that swept around the north flank of the cliff face and up the switchback road. The ruins of the Naxid bunkers at the base of the acropolis had been cleared, and the unsightly gun turrets at the Gates of the Exalted had been removed.
“Where shall we take you, Lady Sula?” Michi asked.
“Oh. I’m not staying on the High City. I’ve got a place on the Petty Mount.”
Michi looked at her in surprise.
“I’ll take the car back down, if I may,” Sula said. “But I still have to deliver the data foils, and while I was here I thought I’d look around the High City, see what they’ve done with it.”
“Certainly. Take the car if you like.”
Parts of the High City still looked as if a battle had been fought there, and the empty cave where the New Destiny had stood had not yet been filled. But all of the parks and many of the palaces were bright with summer flowers, and dozens of new businesses had opened, none of them aimed entirely at the Naxid trade.
The limousine drew up to the Commandery, and Daimong guards snapped to the salute as they stepped out. The officers paid their ritual visit to the Fleet Records Office, where they deposited the data foils that contained their logs and the official records of their commands, and then returned to the car.
A few minutes later the Victory pulled up before the Chen Palace, where Martinez would be staying as Michi’s guest, a temporary—Sula hoped—prisoner of his in-laws. The doors rolled in silence into the roof. Martinez stepped onto the sidewalk, and bent to take Michi’s hand and help her out of the vehicle. Sula stepped out the other side, into the street.
“My lord!”
Sula looked up at the sound of the new voice, and saw a handsome, assured man of middle years walking forward from the Chen Palace front door. He wore the wine-red tunic of the lords convocate and was leading a
