She met his eyes levelly, and her lips slowly blossomed in a smile.
"Do you know, I think I am," she murmured, reaching up to touch the side of his face. "But I'm not going to be in therapy here forever, you know. In fact--" her smile turned wicked "--they're transferring me to Gallo-way's World to finish my convalescence before I take over Sky Watch there."
Lantu--no longer First Admiral Lantu, but simply Lantu--stood with his arm about his wife and watched Sean David Andrew Tulloch Angus MacDougall Mac-Rory scuttle across the floor towards his mother. The infant's speed astounded Lantu, for Theban children were much slower than that before they learned to walk. And, he thought with a small smile, he would have expected the sheer weight of his name to slow him down considerably!
The commander in chief of the New New Hebrides Peaceforce stood beside Caitrin, craggy face beaming as he watched his son, and he chuckledas Caitrin scooped him up.
"Ocn, Katie! 'Tis a gae good thing he takes after yer side o' the family, lass!
"Oh, I don't know." Caitrin ruffled the boy's red-gold hair, cooing to him enthusiastically, then smiled wickedly at her husband. "He's got your eyes--and I haven't heard him say a word vet, either!"
Angus grinned hugely, and Lantu laughed out loud. He and Hanat crossed to their hosts, Hanat moving a bit more slowly and carefully than was her wont. Her slender figure had altered drastically in the last two months, for Theban gestation periods were short and multiple births were the norm, but her smile was absolutely stunning.
Angus waved them into Theban-style chairs on the shady verandah, and the four of them sat, looking out through the green-gold shadow of the towering banner oaks at the sparkling ocean of New Hebrides.
"Sae, then, Lantu," Angus said, breaking the companionable silence at last. "Is it an official New Hebridan ye are the noo?"
"Yes." Lantu leaned further back, still holding Hanat's hand. "The Synod knows about Fraymak and me, and we've both been anathematized and excommunicated." He grimaced. "It hurts--not because either of us cares about their religious claptrap but because we can never go home again.
"Ah, but hame is where yer loved, lad," Angus said gently, and Caitrin nodded beside him. " Tis no what I expected when I was scheming how't' kill ye, ye ken, but 'tis true enow fer that."
"I know," Lantu looked over at his hosts and smiled with a trace of sadness, "and I imagine the Synod's been a bit surprised by how many of our people refused repatriation. I suspect they're going to be even more surprised by what happens to their religion once younger generations start comparing humanity's version of Terran history to theirs, too. Fraymak and I may even get a decent mention in Theban history books, someday.
"Aye't' that," Angus agreed, holding his friend's eyes warmly. "Any race needs a Cranaa'tolnatha of its ain," he said softly.
* * *
Copyright
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This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 1992 by David Weber and Steve White
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
A Baen Books Original
Baen Publishing Enterprises PO Box 1403 Riverdale, NY 10471
ISBN: 0-671-72111-9 Cover art by Paul Alexander
First printing, March 1992 Second printing, October 1996
Distributed by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020
Printed in the United States of America
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