“Not quite, Orion. A good strategist always has more than one objective in sight.” Some of Aten’s old haughty self-importance crept back into his expression. “The military aspect of your exertions did not pay the dividends I expected, but the political consequences may yet bear fruit.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
He folded his arms across his chest. “You will see, in due time.”
I blinked and was back on the shuttle, amid my wounded, bone-tired, snoring troopers. The shuttle shuddered and thumped as it docked with the troopship, waking all but the most determined dozers.
“Home sweet home,” somebody cracked.
“You know,” said someone else, “that cryosleeper’s gonna look damned good to me.”
I frowned. Cryosleep? Is that what was in store for these troopers?
They let us rest for two whole days. The severely wounded were sent to sickbay while the rest of us were examined by medics, patched here and there, and allowed to return to our quarters. We slept, we ate and we slept some more.
On the third day we were handed dress uniforms and ordered to assemble in the ship’s biggest cargo bay. It had carried supplies and ammunition on the trip to Bititu; now it was empty. Human officers I had never seen before—all of them in magnificent spotless uniforms heavy with braid and decorations—put us through a marching drill and then paraded us around the big cargo bay to the tune of martial music piped in through the ship’s intercom.
They stood us at attention in front of a makeshift dais, and the human officers, together with a handful of Tsihn, made a series of speeches at us, praising our courage and loyalty. Even Brigadier Uxley was there, obviously reading his prepared speech from a screen built into the rostrum that he leaned upon. He had flown out from the sector base to rendezvous with us at one of our navigation points, where we slowed from superlight velocity for a few hours.
“They’re piping this ceremony back to Loris,” Frede whispered to me as we stood at attention through the long, boring speeches.
Loris. The Commonwealth’s capital planet, my memory told me. The only Earthlike planet of the Giotto system, 270 light-years from old Earth itself.
Then the Tsihn admiral read off a unit citation and handed out medals. It seemed like a miserably poor reward for such hard fighting, but the troopers were pitifully grateful for the recognition.
At the end of the ceremony Uxley smiled beamingly at us and announced, “You are relieved of all duties for the remainder of this trip back to sector base six. There you will be reassigned. Dismissed.”
Frede came up to me as the troop broke up into chatting, laughing little groups.
“Ready for some R and R?” she asked.
“Not much to do aboard this bucket,” I complained.
“We can grab some sack time.”
I caught the gleam in her eye. “For the whole trip back?”
Frede laughed. “That would be fun, Orion, but we’ve only got another twelve hours.”
Puzzled, I asked, “What do you mean? The commander said we’re relieved of all duties—”
“That means we’re going back into cryosleep,” Frede said, her tone sobering. “You don’t think they’re going to feed us the whole trip back, do you? A few watts of electricity to keep the nitrogen liquefied is a lot cheaper than having us underfoot.”
“But I thought—”
She gripped my arm, making me wince slightly.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot your arm is still healing.”
“You mean that after all the fighting we’ve done they’re going to pop us back into the freezers?”
Frede gave me a sad smile. “We got a unit citation and individual medals and congratulations from the admiral. They beamed the ceremony back to the capital for all the civilians to see. We’re official heroes. What more can a trooper ask for?”
I shook my head. “I guess you’ve got to be born to it.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Come on, let’s make out while we’re still warm.”