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Shocked, she exclaimed: “You won’t! You promised!”

“I know. Not that I mightn’t — if — no, don’t fear. I won’t. Flandry was right, damn him, I’d have to raise allies, and those allies would have to be offered what it would split the Empire to give. Let’s hope the threat that I may try again will force them to govern better … back there.”

Her strickenness told him how much remained for her before the old calm strength was regained: “Dyuba, you’d think ’bout politics and fightin’ in this hour?”

“I apologize,” he said. “Nobody warned me you were coming. And I have been preoccupied.”

She reached him, but they did not embrace. “That preoccupied?” she asked.

“Why, why, what do you mean? See here, you shouldn’t be standing more than necessary. Let’s get you seated. And, er, well have to arrange for the sleeping quarters to be remodeled—”

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she had command of herself. “Poor Hugh,” she said. “You’re scarred right badly too. I should’ve thought how you must’ve hurt.”

“Nonsense.” He urged her toward the couch. She resisted in such a manner that his arms went around her. Laying hers about his neck and her cheek against his breast, she said, “Wait. You were tryin’ to ’scape thinkin’ ’bout us. ’Bout what I can be to you, after everything that was done. ’Bout whether the things I’m leavin’ untold concernin’ what passed ’tween Dominic and me, if they didn’t include — But I’ve sworn they didn’t.”

“I cannot doubt you,” rumbled through her.

“No, you’re too honorable not to try hard to believe me, not to try hard to rebuild what we had. Poor Hugh, you’re scared you might not be able.”

“Well — associations, of course—” His clasp stiffened.

“I’ll help you if you’ll help me. I need it bad’s you do.”

“I understand,” he said, gentler.

“No, you don’t, Hugh,” she replied gravely. “I realized the truth while I was alone, recuperatin’, nothin’ to do but think in a weird clear way till I’d fall asleep and the dreams came. I’m ’bout as well over what happened to me in the palace as I’ll ever be. I’m the one to cure you of that. But you’ll have to cure me of Dominic, Hugh.”

“Oh, Kathryn!” he said into her hair.

“Well try,” she murmured. “Well succeed, anyhow in part, anyhow enough to live. We must.”

Vice Admiral Sir Ilya Kheraskov riffled the papers on his desk. The noise went from end to end of his office. Behind him, the projection screen today held an image of Saturn.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve perused your account, and other relevant data, quite intensely since you arrived home. You were a busy young man, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Yes, sir,” said Flandry. He had taken a chair, but thought best to give the impression of sitting at attention.

“I regret leave was denied you and you’ve been made to spend the whole two weeks in Luna Prime. Must have been frustrating, the fleshpots of Terra glowing right overhead. But any number of irregularities had to be checked out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kheraskov chuckled. “Stop worrying. We’ll put you through assorted rituals, but I can tell you in confidence, you’re off the hook and your brevet rank of commander will be made permanent. Till your next escapade gets you either broken or promoted, that is. I’d call the odds fifty-fifty.”

Flandry leaned back. “Thank you, sir.”

“You seem a touch disappointed,” Kheraskov remarked. “Did you anticipate more?”

“Well, sir—”

Kheraskov cocked his head and grinned wider. “You ought to be effusive at me. I’m responsible for your getting this much. And I had to work for it!”

He drew breath. “True,” he said, “your obtaining the code was an exploit which justifies overlooking a great deal else. But the else is such a very great deal. Besides losing Asieneuve on a trip most kindly described as reckless, you staged other performances which were high-handed at best, in gross excess of your authority at worst. Like removing the sector governor’s prisoner on your own warrant; and conveying her with you; and concealing her presence on your return; and heading back out with her; and losing her to the enemy … I’m afraid, Flandry, regardless of what rank you may gain, you’ll never have another command.”

That’s no punishment. “Sir,” Flandry said, “my report justifies whatever I did as according to regulations. So will the testimony of the men who served under me.”

“Taking the most liberal interpretation of your discretionary rights that man, xeno, or computer can conceive of … yes, perhaps. But mainly, you rascal, I argued and politicked on your behalf because the Intelligence Corps needs you.”

“Again I thank the admiral.”

Kheraskov shoved the cigar box forward. “Take one,” he said, “and show your gratitude by telling me what really happened.”

Flandry accepted. “It’s in my report, sir.”

“Yes, and I know a weasel when one slinks by me. For instance — I read from the abstract of this wonderful document you wrote — ahem. ‘Soon after leaving with Lady McCormac for Terra, with minimal crew for the sake of speed and secrecy as per orders, I was unfortunately noted and overhauled by an enemy cruiser which captured me. Brought to the flagship at Satan, I was surprised to find the rebels so discouraged that, upon learning Admiral Pickens had their code, they decided to flee the Empire. Lady McCormac prevailed upon them to spare me and my Didonian hand, leaving us behind with a disabled vessel. After the loyalists arrived, I discharged and returned home the said Didonian with the promised reward, then set course for Terra—’ Well, no matter that.” Kheraskov peered over the page. “Now what’s the mathematical probability of a prowling cruiser just happening to come in detection range of you?”

“Well, sir,” Flandry said, “the improbable has to happen sometimes. It’s too bad the rebels wiped the computer’s log in the course of removing my ship’s hyperdrive. I’d have proof. But my account by itself ought to carry conviction.”

“Yes, you build a very solid, interlocking pile of reasons, most of them unverifiable, why you had to do what you did and nothing else. You could spend your whole voyage back from Sector Alpha Crucis developing them. Be honest. You deliberately sought out Hugh McCormac and warned him about the code, didn’t you?”

“Sir, that would have been high treason.”

“Like doing away with a governor you didn’t approve of? It’s curious that he was last seen a short while before you cleared for departure.”

“Much was going on, sir,” Flandry said. “The city was in turmoil. His Excellency had personal enemies. Any one of them could have seen a chance to pay off scores. If the admiral suspects me of wrongdoing, he can institute proceedings to have me hypnoprobed.”

Kheraskov sighed. “Never mind. You know I won’t. For that matter, nobody’s going to search after possible witnesses, rebels who may have elected to stay behind. Too big a job for too small a gain. As long as they keep their noses clean, we’ll let them fade back into the general population. You’re home free, Flandry. I’d simply hoped — But maybe it’s best that I myself don’t inquire too deeply. Do light your cigar. And we might send for a real potation. Do you like Scotch?”

“Love it, sir!” Flandry got the tobacco going and inhaled its perfume.

Kheraskov spoke an order on his intercom, leaned forward with elbows on desk, and blew clouds of his own. “Tell me one thing, though, prodigal son,” he begged, “in exchange for my wholesale slaughter of fatted calves wearing stars and nebulas. Plain avuncular curiosity on my part. You have extended leave coming as soon as we can tie up the red tape. Where and how does your twisted ingenuity suggest you spend it?”