“No! We need you, at least until this mess with the survivors and this, this—whatever it is—in the military is straightened out.”
“You need someone, but I may be making things worse.”
“Grace, I trust you even when I don’t agree with you.” The President had large, dark, slightly protuberant eyes that seemed to plead for understanding.
“But others don’t,” Grace said. “That’s the problem. And even if I resigned, it’s not enough. What matters is that I broke a legal contract my family had with the government. That contract stated that if I became involved in the government in any way, with or without the knowledge of my family, the agreement to terminate my confinement would lapse and I would be returned to custody, to be adjudicated by a court.”
“I don’t even know what court that would be—”
“Neither do I, but I know that’s what’s called for, and I know some court will take it on.”
“But you can’t—I mean, at your age, going back to prison, or a psychiatric hospital—it’s a risk to your life.”
Grace shrugged. “Many things have been risks to my life, including the recent assassination attempt, and yet here I am. Besides, I’m old. Old even by the standards of modern medicine. I’m not afraid of death, and I know from experience that I can survive in confinement. I’m not afraid of that, either.”
“It’s not fair—you spent decades without causing any trouble—”
“Except being a thorn in the side of those who never forgave my family for letting me have as much freedom as they did. And possibly, because of that, giving encouragement to those still unsatisfied with the results of the Unification War.”
The President stared at her, clearly unwilling to countenance the decision that seemed so obvious. She herself was the problem; she was guilty of those deaths she had dealt; she had broken a contract and thus dishonored her family.
“You need to call a Council meeting and have me explain it to them, then start proceedings to determine the correct legal actions,” Grace said.
“So who would you recommend as your replacement?”
“I can’t make any recommendation. It would taint the process. If I’m ineligible to serve, then I’m ineligible to advise, as well.”
“I can’t—I can’t make a decision now,” Saranife said. “And I don’t want changes in the administration with a possible crisis coming. What if they just kill you?”
“Then I’ll be dead,” Grace said. She could not resist the temptation to poke the woman again. “You do realize, don’t you, that everyone does die? Of something? I’m going to die; you’re going to die; everyone dies.”
The President actually shivered, visibly. Well, she was only forty-seven, and her children were still in school. Grace softened her voice. “It’s been the human condition since long before we left Old Earth. And keep in mind that it doesn’t bother me. Hasn’t for a long time. So even if the court decrees an execution, I won’t be making a spectacle about it.”
“Do you have any feelings? Anything you enjoy, that you’d miss?” Saranife was looking at her again. “A reason to stay alive?”
She had not expected that. But then, people still surprised her, and she knew she surprised them. “Yes,” she said, making sure her voice softened. “I love my relatives. The twins—well, they’re at one of the difficult ages right now, but they’ll grow out of it, if assassins don’t get them. I’m fond of my friends. I like cooking, the process of it. I used to like gardening—the colors of flowers and leaves, the fragrance of soil and healthy plants—but these days my knees hurt.”
“So if you hadn’t accepted my predecessor’s invitation, you’d be perfectly safe enjoying your family, cooking, gardening—it’s not your fault, dammit!”
“True. But now that I know, continuing on a course that will inevitably harm my family and my planet would be my fault. And your letting me do so, now that you know, will be your fault. Don’t wait too long to make your decision. Let’s limit the harm as much as we can.” Grace stood up without a dismissal and walked toward the door.
“Grace.” The tone of the President’s voice made her turn around. “I promise you I will do my best to make the right decision at the right time. For everyone.”
Grace bowed, her mismatched hands together. “Thank you,” she said. “I will await your word.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Grace arrived at the Joint Services Headquarters base still thinking about the implications of her own history. Arriving as Rector of Defense for a press conference, with a security escort to protect her from danger, not others from her, was a stark contrast with her first sight of the place as a prisoner in chains. It had been hot that day, humid, with thunderclouds looming.
Now a few snowflakes danced in the air, but none survived on the ground and the flurry dissipated quickly. Her little cavalcade passed quickly through the gates, driving past the various buildings and parking lots to deliver her directly to the base hospital where the survivors were being treated and reunited with their families. Grace made her way in with her two guards to find an official reception committee inside the foyer: the base commander, General Molosay, the hospital commander, Colonel Byers, and Sergeant Major Morrison. Grace shook hands with them all.
“The survivors are doing better this morning,” Byers said. “All but two are ambulatory, and having their families has eased the burden on our staff as well as raising their morale.”
“Good,” Grace said. “Do we have time for me to meet them before the press conference?”
“Yes, Rector,” General Molosay said, giving Byers a sharp look. “If you’ll come this way—”
This way meant into an elevator to the fifth floor, given over for the moment to the survivors and their families. The noise when the elevator doors opened included not just a crowd of adults, but children down to toddler size as well. The survivors, in casual clothes, were notable only for being bald, though many of them wore a hospital robe over their clothes. A cluster of family members surrounded each one.
Colonel Byers took Grace first to the two who had been injured in the rescue. “Gunshot wound to the leg,” he said of Ennisay as he led Grace down the hall. “He’s still too affected by the drugs to tank him for the leg, but he’s much better today.” He pushed the door wide, and said, “Here’s the Rector of Defense come to check on you, Ennisay.”
He looked even younger than he was, and his mother, sitting beside him, glared at Grace like an angry hen. “You!” she said. “You let this happen to him.”
“No,” Ennisay said, his voice just audible. “Not the Rector, Mama. It’s her and the admiral who got me out.”
His mother huffed, arms crossed. “I want him home for good,” she said. “None of your nonsense about regulations and service commitment.”
“Mama!”
“We want to get his leg fixed, Sera Ennisay,” Colonel Byers said to her. “Time enough after that for him to make a decision.”
“Half a year with no word at all and then nothing for four tendays after he’s supposed to be home—!”
“Mama!”
“Sera Ennisay,” Grace said, stepping forward. “I do understand—it’s been a terrible time for you and your son’s family. And you’re welcome to stay here with him until he’s recovered completely.”