“These are desperate times, and in desperate times, it is to spacers and marines that we turn. All too often, they die to protect us. They die far from home, with pain and fear their only companions. They die unseen and unheard by the people for whom they give their lives.”
Diouf paused for a moment.
“By honoring those here, we honor the memories of those who could not be here, those who have fallen in battle to preserve the Federation. I ask you all to stand for a moment in silence while we remember them.”
Not a word was said as the crowd stood, the quiet absolute. Michael glanced across at his parents. Both stood unmoving. Both stared into the distance as if searching for all the shipmates they had lost in their years of service, tears falling in sun-silvered lines down their cheeks. They rarely talked about their time in the Fleet, but Michael knew their long years of combat during the Third Hammer War had scarred them both deeply.
“Thank you all,” the president said. “Please be seated. We now come to the day’s business: presentation of medals to the spacers and marines of the Federated Worlds Starships Reckless, Retrieve, and Recognizance. These medals recognize their service during Operation Opera, a service directed by the captain in command of the Reckless in a manner consistent with the finest traditions of Space Fleet.”
Michael had trouble believing what he had just heard. But he had not misunderstood President Diouf’s intentions; her eyes had locked onto his as she spoke. She had crossed a line, and she had done it to tell the Federated Worlds that she was on his side.
Diouf turned to her aide-de-camp, his aiguillettes shimmering gold in the morning sun. “Colonel Kashvili?”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the marine said. “Lieutenant Michael Wallace Helfort, Federated Worlds Space Fleet.”
Michael marched briskly out to stand at attention in front of the president, his salute acknowledged with a broad smile and a quick nod of the head.
“For extraordinary leadership when in command of the Federated Worlds Warships Tufayl and Reckless, award of the Federation Command Star,” Kashvili said. “For extraordinary leadership and bravery in the face of the enemy in the line of duty without regard to person throughout Operation Opera and the Battle of Devastation Reef, award of the Federation Starburst on Gold.”
Taking the Federation Command Star from an aide, Diouf pinned it on Michael’s left breast. The Federation Starburst was next; Diouf placed the extravagant silver spray set against a gold background on its indigo ribbon around Michael’s neck.
“Congratulations, Michael,” the president said warmly. “You deserve these. You’ve done well.”
“Lucky, I guess, ma’am.”
“Not sure about that. But you hang in there. We need to finish this war.”
“Can’t come too soon, ma’am.”
“No, it can’t. You be careful out there.”
“I will, ma’am.”
Michael took a step back, saluted, and marched back to his place in front of the crew of the Reckless. Standing at ease, Michael resigned himself to what was sure to be a long wait: President Diouf had a lot of medals to hand out that morning.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. That concludes the medal ceremony this morning. The president invites you all to join her in the function room behind the dais. Light refreshments will be served.”
The ceremony dissolved into near chaos; Michael pushed his way through the milling throng of spacers and marines to where his parents stood, two small islands of dress black in a sea of civilian color.
“Mom,” he said when she folded him tightly into her arms, the scent of green-tea perfume, her favorite, triggering a surge of emotion, the feeling of security and warmth overwhelming. The embrace lasted a long time.
“Hey, hey, hey, you two,” Michael’s father protested, “I’m here, too, you know.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Michael said, repeating the process.
“How’re things?” his father said, breaking what was more bear hug than embrace.
Michael shook his head. “You know. The usual. The trashpress is still on my back.”
“I’ve stopped watching,” his father said, the bitterness obvious.
“Me, too. I let Mitesh watch for me.”
“Considering he’s a figment of an AI’s imagination, he’s a gem.”
“He is,” Michael said, “and worth every FedMark of your hard-earned money.”
Michael’s mother winced. “Do not remind us. Nothing but the best, your father said, even though it cost me a year’s salary.”
“You exaggerate, Mom. I know how much commodores were paid in your day.”
“Yeah, well,” his mother conceded, “but it was worth it. Mitesh got you a big win over that nasty piece of work at World News … what was his name?”
“Pantini, Giorgio Pantini. Yeah, Mitesh and the lawyers did one hell of a job on him. I don’t think he’ll be getting his bonus this year. Or next. He’s just cost World News a fortune, and it’s made the rest of them ease up a bit.”
“Have they paid the damages?”
“No, not yet. It’s in escrow while they appeal, but Mitesh and the legal AI say they have no chance.”
“What will you do with the money?”
“Me?” Michael said fiercely. “Nothing. I don’t want their filthy money. I’ve told Mitesh it’s to go straight to the Spacers’ and Marines’ Welfare Fund, every last grubby Fed-Mark of it. Hell, the fund needs all the help it can get after Comdur. Come, let’s go inside. I need caffeine.”
A welcome coffee in hand, Michael checked out the rest of the gathering. Bearing down on them was a tall, silver-haired marine colonel. “Incoming,” Michael said. “The president’s aide-de-camp is heading this way, so I’m guessing the president herself is not far behind.”
She was. “Commodore Helfort,” President Diouf said, shaking Michael’s mother’s hand and then his father’s. “Captain Helfort. Glad you were able to make it.”
“Would not have missed it, ma’am,” Andrew Helfort said. “I keep telling the boy to take it easy, but I don’t think he listens to me anymore. Thankless task, fatherhood.”
“Children! I know what you mean,” the president said with a theatrical roll of her eyes. “You both know Colonel Kashvili?”
“Certainly do, ma’am,” Kerri Helfort said, shaking the marine’s hand. “Let me see … yes, you were in Cordwainer, I think, the marine detachment commander?”
“I was, Commodore Helfort,” Kashvili said, “a long time ago. Andrew, how are you? Last bumped into you when we were cleaning out pirates around Damnation’s Gate.”
“That’s right. The early?70s, I think.”
“Excuse me for a moment,” the president said, taking Michael’s arm. “I want to talk to the junior member of the Helfort military dynasty.”
“Be our guest, ma’am,” Kerri Helfort said. “Please try and persuade him to be more careful.”
“I will,” the president said, taking Michael to one side. “So, Michael. I wanted to ask about Anna Cheung.”
Michael’s face must have betrayed his shock. “Come on, Michael,” Diouf said, “I am the president, you know, and that means I am well informed.”
“Er, yes, ma’am,” Michael said, embarrassed that the head of the Federated Worlds and its billions of citizens saw fit to talk to him about his girlfriend. “You are. Very.”
“Well, how is she?”
“So far as I know, pretty good, ma’am. Received a few vidmails from her so far. She’s tough, so she’ll be fine. I just wish … ” Michael’s voice trailed off.
“I know,” Diouf said. “I hate the idea of our people rotting in the Hammers’ hands. You know better than most what they can be like.”