by David Weber
"Yes," she'd confirmed, seeing their thunlerstruck faces. "The Federation--and this Terran-Orion "Pan-Sentient Union"--recognizes all the field promotions conferred out here, and they say they want me." Her expression had turned uncharacteristically gentle. She'd actually smiled slightly. "And I've gotten homesick for Nova Terra. Besides--was she'd broken off and waved one hand in a curiously vulnerable little gesture. Now her eyes met Sandoval's, and he, for once, knew when no words were needed.
The air in the chamber deep below the Prescott City Medical Center was so cold it seemed brittle. A thin film of frost covered the enclosed, coffin-like tank in the center of the room with its attendant machinery. The door slid open, and Miriam Ortega entered, heavily cloaked against the. chill she did not feel. She walked to the tank, andfora long, long time stood motionless and unspeaking, her breath white puffs of condensation in the air. After a moment, the tears no one had been allowed to see began finding their way down her cheeks, very slowly in the cold. But the silent communion was unbroken. Finally, she extended a slightly trembling right hand and gently touched the cover of the tank with her fingertips. Only then did she draw a shaken breath and speak in a very quiet, steady voice. "Ian, this morning I gaveled to order the constitutional convention of the Rim Federation, Forgive me." She withdrew her hand slowly, leaving five streaks in the rime. Tiny drops trickled slowly down them, glittering like tears in the cold, still air. After a moment, she took another deep breath, squared her shoulders, turned, and to eft the chamber.
By the time the door closed, silently condensing moisture had already begun to cover the tiny streaks.
The End
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