Nice to see you again." He added pleasantly, "Where inthe world have you been?"
Don Mathers slumped into a chair, said wearily, "On a bust. The bust toend all busts."
The Commodore chuckled. "Don't blame you," he said.
"It was quite a bust," Don said.
"Well," the Commodore chuckled again, "I don't suppose we can throw youin the guardhouse for being A.W.O.L. Not in view of your recentdecoration."
There was nothing to say to that.
"By the way," the Commodore said, "I haven't had the opportunity tocongratulate you on your Kraden. That was quite a feat, Captain."
"Thank you, sir," Don added, modestly, "rather foolish of me, Isuppose."
"Very much so. On such foolishness are heroic deeds based, Captain." TheCommodore looked at him questioningly. "You must have had incredibleluck. The only way we've been able to figure it was that his detectorswere on the blink. That may be what happened."
"Yes, sir," Don nodded quickly. "That's the way I figure it. And myfirst blast must have disrupted his fire control or something."
The Commodore said, "He didn't get in any return fire at all?"
"A few blasts. But by that time I was in too close and moving too fast.Fact of the matter is, sir, I don't think they ever recovered from myfirst beaming of them."
"No, I suppose not," the Commodore said musingly. "It's a shame you hadto burn them so badly. We've never recovered a Kraden ship in goodenough shape to give our techs something to work on. It might make abasic difference in the war, particularly if there was something aboardthat'd give us some indication of where they were coming from. We'vebeen fighting this war in our backyard for a full century. It would helpif we could get into _their_ backyard for a change. It's problematicalhow long we'll be able to hold them off, at this rate."
Don Mathers said uncomfortably, "Well, it's not as bad as all that, sir.We've held them this far."
His superior grunted. "We've held them this far because we've been ableto keep out enough patrol ships to give us ample warning when one oftheir task forces come in. Do you know how much fuel that consumes,Captain?"
"Well, I know it's a lot."
"So much so that Earth's industry is switching back to petroleum andcoal. Every ounce of radioactives is needed by the Fleet. Even so, it'sjust a matter of time."
Don Mathers pursed his lips. "I didn't know it was that bad."
The Commodore smiled sourly at him. "I'm afraid I'm being a wet blanketthrown over your big bust of a celebration, Captain. Tell me, how doesit feel to hold the system's highest award?"
* * * * *
Don shook his head, marveling. "Fantastic, sir. Of course, like anymember of the services I've always known of the Medal of Honor, but ...well, nobody ever expects to get it." He added wryly, "Certainly notwhile he's still alive and in health. Why, sir, do you realize that Ihaven't been able to spend one unit of money since?" There was anelement of awe in his voice. "Sir, do you realize that not even a beggarwill take currency from me?"
The Commodore nodded in appreciation. "You must understand the positionyou occupy, Captain. Your feat was inspiring enough, but that's not allof it. In a way you combine a popular hero with an _Unknown Soldier_element. Awarding you the Galactic Medal of Honor makes a symbol of you.A symbol representing all the millions of unsung heroes and heroines whohave died fighting for the human species. It's not a light burden tocarry on your shoulders, Captain Mathers. I would imagine it a veryhumbling honor."
"Well, yes, sir," Don said.
The Commodore switched his tone of voice. "That brings us to thepresent, and what your next assignment is to be. Obviously, it wouldn'tdo for you to continue in a Scout. Big brass seems to be in favor ofusing you for morale and ..."
Don Mathers cleared his throat and interrupted. "Sir, I've decided todrop out of the Space Service."
"Drop out!" The other stared at Mathers, uncomprehending. "We're at war,Captain!"
Don nodded seriously. "Yes, sir. And what you just said is true. Icouldn't be used any longer in a Scout. I'd wind up selling bonds andgiving talks to old ladies' clubs."
"Well, hardly that, Captain."
"No, sir, I think I'd really be of more use out of the services. I'mtendering my resignation and making arrangements to help in thedeveloping of Callisto and the other Jupiter satellites."
The Commodore said nothing. His lips seemed whiter than before.
Don Mathers said doggedly, "Perhaps my prestige will help bringvolunteers to work the new mines out there. If they see me, well,sacrificing, putting up with the hardships ..."
The Commodore said evenly, "Mr. Mathers, I doubt if you will ever haveto put up with hardships again, no matter where you make your abode.However, good luck. You deserve it."
* * * * *
Outside headquarters, Don Mathers summoned a cab and dialed his hotel.On the way over, he congratulated himself. It had gone easier than hehad expected, really. Although, come to think of it, there wasn't a damnthing that the brass could do.
He had to laugh to himself.
Imagine if he'd walked in on the Commodore a month ago and announcedthat he was going to _drop out_ of the Space Service. He would have beendropped all right, all right. Right into the lap of a squadron of psychoexperts.
At the hotel he shucked his uniform, an action which gave himconsiderable gratification, and dressed in one of the score of civiliancostumes that filled his closets to overflowing. He took pleasure inestimating what this clothing would have cost in terms of months ofSpace Service pay for a Sub-lieutenant or even a Captain. _Years, myboy, years._
He looked at himself in the dressing-room mirror with satisfaction,then turned to the autobar and dialed himself a stone-age-old Metaxa.He'd lost his taste for the plebian tequila in the last few days.
He held the old Greek brandy to the light and wondered pleasurably whatthe stuff cost, per pony glass. Happily, he'd never have to find out.
He tossed the drink down and whistling, took his private elevator to thegarages in the second level of the hotel's basement floors. He selecteda limousine and dialed the Interplanetary Lines building.
He left the car at the curb before the main entrance, ignoring alltraffic regulations and entered the building, still whistling softly andhappily to himself. He grinned when a small crowd gathered outside andsmiled and clapped their hands. He grinned and waved to them.
A receptionist hurried to him and he told her he wanted to see eitherMr. Demming or Mr. Rostoff, and then when she offered to escort himpersonally he noticed her pixie-like cuteness and said, "What're youdoing tonight, Miss?"
Her face went pale. "Oh, anything, sir," she said weakly.
He grinned at her. "Maybe I'll take you up on that if I'm not too busy."
He had never seen anyone so taken aback. She said, all flustered, "I'mToni. Toni Fitzgerald. You can just call this building and ask for me.Any time."
"Maybe I'll do that," he smiled. "But now, let's see Old Man Demming."
* * * * *
That took her back too. Aside from being asked for a date--if askedcould be the term--by the system's greatest celebrity, she was hearingfor the first time the interplanetary tycoon being called _Old ManDemming_.
She said, "Oh, right this way, Captain Mathers."
Don said, "Mr. Mathers now, I'm afraid. I have new duties."
She looked up into his face. "You'll always be Captain Mathers to me,sir." She added, softly and irrelevantly, "My two brothers were lost onthe _Minerva_ in that action last year off Pluto." She took a deepbreath, which only stressed her figure. "I've applied six times forSpace Service, but they won't take me."
They were in an elevator now. Don said, "That's too bad, Toni. However,the Space Service isn't as romantic as you might think."
"Yes, sir," Toni Fitzgerald said, her soul in her eyes. "You ought toknow, sir."
Don was somehow irritated. He said nothing furthe
r until they reachedthe upper stories of the gigantic office building. He thanked her aftershe'd turned him over to another receptionist.
Don Mathers' spirits had been restored by the time he was brought to thedoor of Max Rostoff's office. His new guide evidently hadn't evenbothered to check on the man's availability, before ushering Mathersinto the other's presence.
Max Rostoff looked up from his desk, wolfishly aggressive-looking asever. "Why,