failed to detect signs of militancy.
"Major indicators: (the whole damn spectrum!)
"1.) A ruling caste restricted to women.
"2.) Disparity between numbers and activities of males and females far beyond the Lutig norm!
"3.) The full secrecy/hierarchy/control/security syndrome.
"Senior Field Agent Lewis Orne found that the ruling caste was controlling the sex of offspring at conception (see details attached) and had raised a male slave army to maintain its rule. The R&R agent had been drained of information, replaced with a double and killed. Arms constructed on the basis of that treachery caused critical injuries to Senior Field Agent Orne. He is not expected to survive. I am hereby recommending that Orne receive the Galaxy Medal and that his name be added to the Roll of Honor."
Stetson pushed the report aside. That was enough for ComGo. The commander of galactic operations never went beyond the raw details. The fine print would be for his aides to digest and that could come later. Stetson punched his call box for Orne's service record, set himself to the task he most detested: notifying next of kin. He studied the record, pursing his lips.
"Home Planet: Chargon. Notify in case of accident or death: Mrs. Victoria Orne, mother."
He scanned through the record, reluctant to send the hated message. Orne had enlisted in the Federation Marines at age seventeen standard (a runaway from home) and his mother had given postenlistment consent. Two years later: scholarship transfer to Uni-Galacta, the R&R school here on Marak. Five years of school, one R&R field assignment under his belt, and he had been drafted into the I-A for brilliant detection of militancy on Hamal. Two years later -
- a crechepod!
Abruptly, Stetson hurled the service record at the gray metal wall across from him; then he got up brought the record back to his desk. There were tears in his eyes. He flipped the proper communications switch, dictated the notification to Central Secretarial, ordered it transmitted Priority One. He went groundside then and got drunk on Hochar brandy, Orne's favorite drink.
The next morning there was a reply from Chargon: "Lewis Orne's mother too ill to be notified or to travel. Sisters being notified. Please ask Mrs. Ipscott Bullone of Marak, wife of the High Commissioner, to take over for family." It was signed: "Madrena Orne Standish, sister."
With some misgivings. Stetson called the Residency for Ipscott Bullone, leader of the majority party in the Federation Assembly. Mrs. Bullone took the call with blank screen. There was a sound of running water in the background.
Stetson stared into the grayness swimming in his desk screen. He always disliked blank screens. His head ached from the Hochar brandy and his stomach kept insisting this was an idiot call. There had to be a mistake.
A baritone husk of a voice came from the speaker beside the screen: "This is Polly Bullone."
Telling his stomach to shut up, Stetson introduced himself, relayed the Chargon message.
"Victoria's boy dying? Here? Oh, the poor thing! And Madrena's back on Chargon -- the election. Oh, yes, of course, I'll get right over to the hospital."
Stetson signed off with thanks, broke the contact. He leaned back in his chair, puzzled. The High Commissioner's wife! He felt stunned. Something didn't track here. He recalled it then: The First-Contact! Hamal! A blunderbrain named Andre Bullone!
Using his scrambler, Stetson called for the follow-up report on Hamal, found that Andre Bullone was a nephew of the High Commissioner. Nepotism began on high, obviously. But there was no apparent influence in Orne's case. A runaway in his teens. Brilliant. Self-motivated. Orne had denied any knowledge of a connection between Andre Bullone and the High Commissioner.
He was telling the truth, Stetson thought. Orne didn't know about this family connection.
Stetson continued scanning the report. A mess! The nephew had been transferred to a desk job far back in the
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