“Politician?”
“They said we’d have to wait—he wants to make a speech. The Speaker.”
Cecelia grinned at him. “We don’t have to wait,” she said. “The politician’s already here.”
Oblo looked around. “Who? It’s got to be a civilian, right? You’re not telling me that fat guy in yellow is the new Speaker! Methlin’s brother says he’s a scientist—”
“No, she’s not a scientist,” Cecelia said. Oblo glared at her. Meharry grinned.
“Who, then?”
“Look around,” Cecelia suggested, nodding toward the tableful of Serranos, where Esmay was snugged up against Barin, and Brun was talking earnestly to Vida.
“Not—her? Brun? That fluffhead?”
“She’s not a fluffhead now, Oblo.”
“Well . . . I’ll . . . be . . .”
Whatever the end of that would have been, it was drowned in a roar of “Speech! Speech!” as a non-Serrano admiral pounded on the bar. Cecelia watched as Vida stood up and waited while the room quieted.
“I have the honor of introducing the Speaker of the Grand Council, who came here from Castle Rock to speak to us.”
Brun stood, looked around the packed room, then spoke to someone near her. One Serrano cleared that end of the table for her to stand on, and helped her up. She stood there and let them all look.
“I have a personal reason to thank you,” she began, her voice slightly husky; they had to quiet down to hear her. “When I was a young idiot, and got myself into trouble, you came and got me out. Some have argued that it was wrong: that my father should not have asked you to risk yourselves for me. Some have even said it caused the recent mutiny—that it was this misuse of power which drove some of you—some of your former comrades—to break away. But I’m very glad you did it.” Her voice invited a chuckle there, and some did.
“The Regular Space Service, since its inception, has been our protection against enemies foreign and domestic. You’ve had the most difficult of missions, over the centuries, trying to be military and police at the same time, staving off full-scale invasions and handling things like stolen ships and piracy, and you’ve done it well. Most recently, you’ve managed to save us from the depredations of your own gone bad. You’ve had to make hard judgments, you’ve had to fire on old friends who broke their oath to you. You’ve done all that well, and your performance is beyond praise.
“Traditionally, the government would authorize a medal for you—and it will—but what is a medal, compared to what you’ve been through these last few years? We’re going to do something else.” Brun paused; the silence now was electric.
“You’ll have heard rumors about the changes in the Grand Council; I’m here to tell you some facts. The younger members of the Great Families, the Founders, have agreed to cooperate—for how long no one knows—” That brought a chuckle. “That’s why I’m Speaker. We’re opening the Council to elected representatives of groups other than the Families. We’re particularly concerned to open opportunities for young people, to keep rejuvenation technology from being a permanent ceiling under which the rest of us are squashed.”
“But you’re rich—you can rejuv—” yelled someone from the back of the room.
“No,” Brun said. “I have sworn not to and if I break that oath, I will be removed from all power, both in the Grand Council and in my sept. Now—there’s a lot more I could say, and I’ll be here several days, talking to a lot of you—but this isn’t the time for long political speeches. This celebration isn’t about me, or the new blood on the Grand Council. This is about you—what you did, and what it cost you. This is the time to say thank you, from everyone you served—thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We can’t replace what you lost—we can only offer you our admiration, and our gratitude.” She reached down and one of the admirals handed her a glass. “To Fleet!”
She started to climb down; Oblo raised a shout himself. “To Brun!!”
“To Brun!! To the Speaker!! To the Council!!”
After that came one toast after another, until, following one offered by the senior Serrano admiral, an uneasy silence fell. Cecelia could hear the shuffling of feet, the rustle of cloth. She wondered if they were waiting for the civilian guests to make a toast.
Then Heris Serrano held her glass high. “Absent friends,” she said. And in a roar she was answered, this time with the names, a cacophony of names, and Cecelia found herself repeating her own list.
As the noise level dropped, first one voice then another began to sing, a haunting tune Cecelia had never heard before.
“My God,” the man in the yellow jacket said, loud enough for her to hear. “That’s ancient music. Parry’s setting of Blake’s lyrics. ‘Jerusalem’—the battle hymn of the Anglican Masses two centuries or more before humans left Old Earth. But the words . . .” His voice choked, and he shook his head. Cecelia had no idea what he was talking about, and decided he hadn’t taken any antox.
After a pause, some of the voices were singing again.
“That’s right,” the man said in an undertone.
“That too.”
“It’s not a ship, it’s a spear . . .”
“Shut up, stupid,” Cecelia hissed at him. He gave her a startled look over his shoulder, opened his mouth, glanced at Oblo, and turned back to his drink, mercifully silent.
The last voices died away. The man in the yellow jacket turned to her; she saw tears on his face, and felt them on her own.
“Sorry,” he said. “It was just—I’d only heard that on recordings. That music was powerful enough there . . . in real life . . . it’s overwhelming.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cecelia said.
“Civilians mostly don’t hear it,” Oblo said.
Meharry edged up to the man in the yellow jacket and tapped his arm. “My brother, now, he says you’re a professor and saved his life.”
“Meharry—that young man we pulled out of the raft? I don’t think I saved his life—”
“You did put that nasty major to sleep,” the young woman said. She grinned at Meharry and Oblo. “I’m Ensign Pardalt; I was there too. I think the professor saved him a lot of trouble, if not his life.”
“You’re from Xavier, right?” Oblo asked.
“Yes—is that Commander Serrano over there?”
“Admiral Serrano, now. But yes, if you mean the Serrano who fought at Xavier. Lieutenant Suiza’s there too.”
The younger woman’s eyes widened. “Both of them here together? I should—I should go thank them—”
“Come along, then,” Meharry said. “I’ll take you over there.” The professor sighed, then smiled ruefully when Cecelia looked at him.