2 2
Yan buzzed in at Clement’s door at precisely 0800. To her surprise the door slid open immediately. She stepped in and looked around the room. It was completely cleaned, almost spotless, in fact. The bed had been made up in military cut and a single open duffel bag sat at the foot of it. She turned again and noticed that the bottle of scotch was still on the table from the night before. It looked like it hadn’t been touched since she’d left. The drinking glasses were cleaned and put back in their cabinet. Water was running in the bathroom.
“Just give me one more minute,” said Clement from behind the partly open bathroom door. Yan just stood in place waiting. After a few seconds Clement emerged from the bathroom in attire that could only be described as military in fashion, separate pants and a jacket cut tightly around his body. He was in fine shape for a man of his age, which Yan realized she didn’t actually know.
The jacket and pant cuffs were rimmed with black, while the main material was a dark heather gray. After a moment Yan realized what she was looking at: it was Clement’s Rim Confederation Navy captain’s uniform with all the rank and adornments removed.
Clement was rubbing his freshly shaven face with a towel. His hair was clean and swept back. In short, to Yan, he looked like a million bucks.
“I doubt that outfit will be warmly received at Kemmerine Station,” she said.
Clement put the towel back in his bathroom and took one last look in the mirror. “It’s all I have,” he said.
“I doubt that,” she replied. And she was right. Clement was clearly making a statement. He looked at her and shrugged.
“Once a navy man, always a navy man,” he said.
“Yes, but, wrong navy,” said Yan.
“Depends on how you look at it, I guess,” he replied, smiling sarcastically at her. With that he picked up his duffel, zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder. “Ready when you are, Commander.”
Yan eyed him, doubtful of his quick turnaround from the station drunk to spritely military man, but for lack of any other evidence, she was forced to accept the man before her at face value. She turned to leave. She had to admit to herself that he cleaned up very nicely. As they walked out the door of his cabin Yan glanced one more time at the wall. Although his navy medals were still there, the photo of his crew was gone. No doubt he was taking it with him. She made a mental note of that.
After he had locked his cabin door with a security code they made the trek to the military docks together mostly in silence, just the necessary chatting between them. When they arrived in the military section of the station almost all personnel were in 5 Suns Navy uniforms. Clement’s choice of attire certainly stood out and got more than a few second looks and glares from the 5 Suns sailors.
They approached a security checkpoint and the young ensign behind the podium asked for identity cards. Yan produced hers and was quickly processed through. The ensign took a lot more time with Clement, looking at him and his clothing with disdain.
Clement’s card identified him as a commercial spacer and pilot, and the red rim around the card identified him as former combatant and possible security risk. The security officer took full advantage of this, having Clement remove all the contents from his duffel bag and even take off his jacket so they could check the lining. Yan stood by watching this impatiently as they waved a variety of detection devices over him. Finally, after ten minutes of exams, she stepped in.
“I think that’s enough, Ensign. I know security is your job but this man is under my jurisdiction for the duration of the flight to Kemmerine and at the station after we arrive. I’m convinced he’ll be no trouble,” she said.
“I’m glad to hear that, Commander, but I still have my job to do and the trash here is even wearing the colors of the RCN,” the ensign protested. The 5 Suns Alliance Navy favored navy blues with red trim and gold adornments, an ugly color combination in Clement’s mind, colors he had come to hate over the years for what they represented. Colors he himself had once worn.
“I’d like you to pass him through now, Ensign, and that’s an order,” said Yan.
“But Commander, I am well within my rights—”
“Yes you are, Ensign. But my orders override your rights in this matter. Now clear him.” The threat in her voice was obvious. Reluctantly the young officer did as she requested. Clement took back his ID and then gathered up his belongings, strewn all over the deck, and went to a nearby bench to repack.
Yan took the opportunity to lean in and speak with the security officer privately.
“One last thing,” she said. “You may want to watch who you call trash around here. I know it’s a popular name to call the old rebels, but I feel I should tell you that if all goes as planned, that ‘trash’ may be someone you’ll have to salute soon. Very soon.”
The ensign nodded, gave her a “yes, sir,” and then resumed his duties without another word.
Yan went over to Clement, who was just zipping the duffel bag back up. “Everything in order?” she asked.
Clement nodded as he threw the duffel back over his shoulder. “Of course.”
The two of them started walking down the corridor together toward their waiting ship.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she asked.
Clement smiled. “Oh, Commander Yan, you have no idea,” he said.
Their transport was a fast frigate called the Bosworth. They both locked down in acceleration couches for a five-g acceleration that lasted forty minutes, after which the couches disconnected and the cabin assumed a smooth and comfortable one g cruising attitude. Kemmerine Station was nine hours away at their current speed.
It was Yan that started in on the conversation.
“So how close were you and Fleet Admiral DeVore?” she asked casually.
The answer was anything but casual for Clement. “I’m not sure you want to know that answer, Commander,” he said back, casually shuffling through a navy travel brochure, hoping to warn her off.
“But what if I do?”
Clement stopped his paper-shuffling and looked at her. For all the world she seemed like a naive girl thrust into a position above her skill level by the benefit of having a wealthy or influential family. It would never have happened in the old days of the 5 Suns Navy, when Clement was a green middie. He had to earn his way to the top of the ladder, and he did that, getting his own command in just six years. But inopportune timing on a trip home from his station in the Virginis Sector had caught him on the wrong side of the line when the war started. It only took a couple of days of seeing what was really happening on Ceta—the starvation, the exploitation—for him to give up his 5SN blues for Rim Confederation Navy grays.
Yan waited patiently for Clement to answer.
He stared at her, uncertain that he would answer, when suddenly the words were coming out of his mouth, almost as if it was against his own will. “Elara DeVore was the love of my life,” he said. “We fought side by side for four years. I lost two other ships in battle and she still followed me to the Beauregard.”
“That was your last command? The one where you scuttled your ship rather than let the 5SN have her?”
Clement nodded. “We were betrayed, by someone close, someone inside. I’ve never figured out who. But I’ll have a special dagger for him if I ever figure it out.”
“That’s a long time to carry a grudge,” said Yan.
He looked at her again, trying to determine whether she was the simple girl she appeared to be, or something more. Clement smiled, as a cover for his emotions.
“The dagger is only metaphorical,” he said, more casual. “I’m not sure I could ever use it even if I found out who the traitor was. War makes for strange bedfellows, Yan. I wouldn’t put it past the Confederation Council for giving us up. We were going to lose anyway, that was obvious by the winter of 2504, but the 5 Suns Alliance and their Navy wanted my hide.”
“Because you had beat all of their best rising stars, in every battle. And you left them all alive to spread the word about how badly they were beaten by the rube gray coat from the backwater planet,” she said.
Clement nodded.
“And Elara DeVore?”
Again Clement smiled. “A dark and comely girl from Helios,” he said, “full of brash ideas and seething anger at the 5 Suns Alliance. A great tactician, a leader, a combat fighter, tall, lithe . . . everything a soldier boy dreamed of.”
“But after the war—” Clement’s look made her stop mid-sentence. Then just as quickly, he continued with the story.
“After I scuttled the Beauregard I never saw Elara again. I don’t blame her, I would have stayed away from me too. But now, to find out she’s a 5 Suns Navy Fleet Admiral . . . ” He trailed off.
Yan stayed silent, then Clement looked at her and said, “You never forget a woman like that.” And with that he turned away from her, and Yan knew the conversation was over.
Clement tried his best to snooze through the trip to Kemmerine, but it would only come in fits and starts. Yan, for her part, just took a sleeping pill and nodded off for five hours of timed rest. There was really nothing more for them to talk about until they met with Fleet Admiral DeVore.
Thoughts of Elara DeVore were enough to keep him from fully resting, but that didn’t matter to Clement. His body clock was on Argyle time and it was the middle of the day for him anyway. Yan was almost certainly on a different sleeping schedule, Shenghai having a twenty-six-hour (and change) planetary rotation, and Kemmerine Station kept the same clock, at least it had when Clement was in the 5SN. He reset his watch to Kemmerine time and saw that it would be 2130 hours local time when they arrived, just enough time to catch dinner and hit the station pubs before bed.
Clement gently shook Yan awake when the twenty-minute docking toll chimed.
“What? What time is it?” she asked. Clement looked at his watch.
“Almost 2100.”
She sat up quickly. “Argyle time or Kemmerine time?”
“Kemmerine,” he said. “Just early enough to get unpacked and catch some dinner. You know a good restaurant on the station?”
Yan smiled. “I know about ten,” she said.
Clement nodded. “Impressive.”
“What’s your pleasure? New Hong Kong cuisine or French Colonial?”
They both made Clement’s mouth water. There was nothing like that cuisine on Argyle Station, something he had often lamented. “Let’s try New Hong Kong,” he said.
“All right. Always a favorite of mine.”
“And a navy pub for a drink after.”
Yan eyed him skeptically. “Now, wait a minute. You’re going to mix with navy sailors? In that uniform? That sounds like trouble to me.”
“You of all people should know that I’m trouble by now, Yan,” he said. She started to say something else, but he cut in. “I promise I’ll be good and not start any fights.”
“Can I trust you?” she said.
He shrugged. “You’ll have to, unless you want to put a guard on me,” he teased.
“That’s an option,” she replied, smiling back at his charm despite herself. Then the Bosworth’s captain came on the com and asked them to activate their coaches again for deceleration.
“Don’t let me down, Clement,” said Yan.
Clement smiled as the couch safety glass closed over him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
After arriving at Kemmerine Yan followed Clement to his room, an outside berth with a large view window of Shenghai. The view was spectacular; the green glow of the planet was nothing like looking at the poor, dull beige worlds of the Rim. The cabin, or rather stateroom, was much more than Clement had expected, a full suite with a large bedroom and, of all things, a bathtub. It was clear that Fleet Admiral DeVore was using her power and influence to put a full high press on him. Once he got his duffel contents stowed he came back into the living area to find Yan had a gift for him. It was a 5 Suns Navy commander’s uniform with rank stripes but no bars and stars to identify him as a full member of the navy.
“I thought after yesterday’s fun that you might be done with your little protest about a war that’s been over for a decade,” she said.
Clement looked at the navy blue uniform with gold and red piping and crinkled up his nose in a distasteful look. “I’d still prefer to wear my Rim grays,” he said. Yan laid the uniform over a chair.
“Not to meet the Fleet Admiral you won’t. I want to avoid any more conflicts like that security guard yesterday.”
“You see, that’s the difference between you and me, Yan. I don’t consider yesterday to be a conflict in any way.”
Yan picked up the uniform and gently pushed it at him. “Please?” she said sarcastically, dipping her head slightly but keeping her eyes on him, like a young girl trying influence her boyfriend.
“Maybe,” Clement said, “as long as I get to pick where we eat.”
“That would be fine.”
He looked disdainfully at the uniform one more time. “All right then, Commander, you win. We’ll play it your way.” Then he took the uniform from her and made his way to the bathroom to dress in private.
They got dinner at what Clement would definitely call a restaurant, not a pub. Linen tablecloths were not prevalent in Argyle Station pubs. Kemmerine was huge, more than twice the size he remembered it from his navy days. There were at least fifty navy ships and maybe twice as many tourist ships, merchants and private yachts docked at its many spider-webbed ports. The deck they were on had a view of Shenghai below and seemed exclusively for leisure, with shops, restaurants, and even a film theater. No doubt the sailor’s pubs were somewhere less savory, but at least on this deck the 5 Suns Alliance was showing off for the tourist classes.
Clement gently swirled his tea in his cup before taking a last sip. On the expansive table was the scattered remains of their meal. Clement couldn’t remember the last time he ate so well. An automated busboy swung by and cleaned their table of dishes while Clement contemplated the view of the planet below.
“You seem satisfied with your dinner,” said Yan.
He smiled. “I am. We have nothing like this on Argyle. Blue crab and lobster . . . ”
“Well, you didn’t have to pick up the check, you know. The navy has been quite generous with my expense account.”
“I know, Yan, but the fact is there isn’t much to spend your money on at Argyle. And besides, you’ve been a gracious host so far. It’s the least I could do.”
She smiled at that. “You’re a man of contradictions, Clement.”
He shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out with a proper lady. Why don’t we just say I needed the practice?”
Yan shifted in her chair. “Practice for meeting Elara DeVore again?” she probed.
“Maybe,” he said, then put down his teacup and stretched. “Time for a walk to see the sights?” he suggested.
“You seriously mean to go get a drink at a navy pub? And cause a ruckus?”
“Me?” he demurred. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m here at the behest of Fleet Admiral DeVore. No ruckusing for me.”
“I’m sure.”
He stood and pulled her chair out for her, like a gentleman would. His attitude toward her had certainly warmed since Argyle. Yan wondered if it was because of his proximity to Elara DeVore, or for other reasons.
They made their way through the atrium, glancing in at both formal and casual diners as they shared a meal, a bottle of wine, or something stronger.
“I wonder,” started Clement.
“Yes?”
“I wonder how many of these patrons, no doubt on their way to or from someplace exciting, are having an illicit tryst, or hiding some secret from their wives or husbands, perhaps meeting a beau on a secret rendezvous,” he said.
“That’s fairly melodramatic, don’t you think? This is a military station after all. Constant observation. I doubt too many get away with things like that here.”
Clement acted surprised. “You think so? I find the thought kind of romantic, personally.”
Yan smiled at that, thinking it over. “One drink, Clement.” Then she held up her finger to him. “One.”
“Lead the way,” he said.
They made their way down the escalator, and after a few minutes of sticking their heads in several crowded bars full of 5 Suns Navy sailors, they settled on a dark but warm looking place called The Battered Hull. Appropriately named, Clement thought.
They came in and sat down at an open table, Clement ordering them both a glass of the local sailor’s ale from the bartender. You could always tell the quality of a place by its basics. It was a good sign if they took care of their sailors. An auto waiter served them their glasses of a dark brown ale and they clinked glasses, with Clement taking a deep drink of his. It was damn good.
“My compliments to The Battered Hull,” he said.
“Mine too,” said Yan, then she looked around the bar. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here.” The crowd was a mix of noncoms and middies, and occasionally their significant others in civilian dress. Yan was the only officer in the place, and Clement stood out because of his 5 Suns officer’s uniform and accompanying lack of rank. They were getting plenty of steely-eyed glances from the crowd.
“Are we sticking out like a sore thumb?” he inquired.
“Yes. I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea,” she said. Clement shrugged.
“Just finish your ale and we can get out of here, then,” he said. Looking around the bar he noticed a group of four middies at a booth that were giving him more than the occasional light glance. One in particular, a blond male, was motioning quite vigorously to his companions.
“Uh oh,” said Clement, smiling at Yan.
“What?”
“I may have been outed.” He nodded toward the booth.
Yan observed them for a moment. “Does trouble always have a way of finding you?” she said.
He shrugged again. “Just comes with the territory, I guess.”
Then the game was up. All four middies, three men and one young woman, vacated their booth and made their way toward Clement and Yan. They gathered around the high table, standing and resting their ales with him and Yan. It was the blond one who spoke first.
“I have a bet with my friends here,” he started. “I think I know you. I saw your pictures in my military history classes.”
“And just who do you think I am?” said Clement to the middie, not backing down.
“I’m betting you’re Captain Jared Clement of the Rim Confederation Navy. You fought in the War of the 5 Suns. You were the Scourge of the 5 Suns Alliance fleet,” he said, as if it were a matter of fact, or a title.
Clement took another drink of his ale. “And what did you bet?”
“Pardon, sir?” said the middie.
“What did you bet on me being this ‘Scourge of the Fleet’ character?”
“I have to pick up the tab if I’m wrong, or Tsu here does if I’m right,” he said, nodding toward a tall Asian middie.
“And what if you’re only half right?” said Clement, taking another drink. Yan watched the interplay closely.
“I don’t understand, sir,” the middie said. Clement looked at the four young faces, all of them wore a determined look; they were going to succeed, none of them doubted it. He went from one to the other to the next until he had their full attention.
“You’re half right, Middie, because I am Jared Clement, but I’m not a captain, and there’s no such thing as the Rim Confederation Navy anymore.”
“I knew it!” said the middie, then turned to his friends, demanding that they pay up in navy silver crowns. This caused quite a reaction in the bar, and Yan leaned in close.
“Now you’ve done it,” she said.
“Started a ruckus? Maybe,” he whispered back.
When the horse trading in silver was over, the middies turned back to Clement, and many other patrons of The Battered Hull were watching their table intently.
“Would you tell us a war story?” asked the blond middie.
Clement hesitated. “War is nothing to trifle about, son. People live and die every day, and some never heal from losing their friends. If I start bragging in here about how I got the better of the 5 Suns Alliance and their navy I might find myself spaced out the nearest garbage port,” he said.
“Well done,” whispered Yan in his ear, then she assumed her disinterested commanding-officer pose.
“Please, sir?” asked the middie again, and then there were nods all around.
“Well . . . ” started Clement, leaning back and catching Yan’s eye. She was not amused. “Maybe just one story.”
Again the nods. Yan covered her face with her hand. Clement started in.
“The first thing you lads and lasses have to understand about the war was that it was over before it began,” he said in a loud enough voice to be heard by several nearby tables. Yan assumed that was what he wanted. “And by that I mean there was never any doubt about the outcome. The 5 Suns Alliance had far too many resources and far too many navy ships for the Rim planets to have a chance at winning, so the war strategy from the beginning was one of pure defense. You have to remember the seeds of the war were that the Rim planets are poor, and that’s still true. They’re the furthest from the Colonus core twins—they don’t get much light, so it’s hard to grow food—and the soil on those planets is shit anyway. Livestock doesn’t take much to the climates on Ceta or Argyle; Helios is a bit warmer, but try living in the warm glow of an orange K-type star for a while . . . it’s not easy.”
“So if the war was not winnable then why did you fight it?” asked the young female middie, an African girl by complexion.
“That’s a good question, Middie. When I signed up for the navy, the 5 Suns Alliance Navy mind you, I was helping fill a quota for my home planet of Ceta. The navy needed recruits constantly, just like now, to fulfill their end of the bargain, which was food, tech, and industrial assistance for the Rim colonies. Unlucky for me, one day I found myself on leave visiting my parents on Ceta. The conditions at home were horrible, food was scarce, and so was everything else—medicine, fuel, electrical power. I was sending back half my paycheck every month to my family but the fact was there was nothing to buy with it. Most of the food assistance was being hijacked by the Governor-General and his lackeys and sold for a profit on the black market, and the 5 Suns Alliance government was looking the other way. Unfortunately, the navy was the government’s enforcement arm. I wasn’t home for two days when there was a riot in Ceta City and the Governor- General was run out of town and into hiding in a secret bunker. I was called back to my command, but when I got to the spaceport my shuttle was already gone—hell, the whole 5 Suns Navy had bugged out. There were some merchants and local navy personnel that stayed and tried to form a navy for defense of the Rim. After two weeks of laying low back at home they finally contacted me and asked if I’d join the cause. On my way back to the city I saw why the revolution had come; people were starving in the streets. I gave away all my rations on the way in, and when I got to the base, I decided to join up with the Rim. I had to do something.
“Within a week they had me in command of a forty-year-old destroyer named Benfold that the 5 Suns had left behind in the Argyle docks. I had half a crew, thirty sailors instead of sixty. We trained for a few days, expecting the 5SN to be back and end the rebellion any time. Then I got called to a meeting where men who had been commanders in the 5SN were calling themselves Admirals, and they told me they had a plan but no ship captain to carry it out. They wanted to attack first, give the 5 Suns Alliance government a bloody nose, and they wanted to know how well I knew the Virginis sector. Since I’d been stationed there I really couldn’t lie to them, so they armed up that old destroyer and put me in charge of a stealth mission, a rearguard maneuver, to knock out 5SN supply lines and communications. So I went, and when we got there the 5 Suns Navy was not expecting us.”
The middies were entranced now, and Clement held their attention in the palm of his hand. He continued, “We coasted in for seven hours after our deceleration burn. Without a heat signature from our engines we were practically invisible to their scans. One by one we started to knock out the local ansible network, taking down random satellites as we went on an approach vector. It made it look like they were experiencing a system failure rather than a pending assault. They had no idea a Rim Navy ship could get to them as deep into space as the Virginis sector.
“The station was only guarded by three corvettes. Their primary ships had been sent off to Kemmerine or were out on patrol, looking for the Rim Navy. I used conventional tactical missiles to knock out the first two of the corvettes, taking them completely by surprise, but the third one got its only energy cannon locked on to us. I had just enough momentum left for a thruster burn to make for the station. The corvette commander must have been very young, because he used his thrusters to keep spinning his ship and keep me in firing range the whole way in. He splattered volley after volley at us, missing by a few hundred yards every time, but we had the advantage of speed and that kept him from hitting us. Eventually we passed behind the station itself, which in those days had no defenses of its own, and started our turn back toward him. His next three volleys hit the station instead of us. Again he used his thrusters to try and turn, but by then we had him in our sights. One missile finished the job. We docked, raided the food storage section of Virginis Station, and stole their best booze. The station personnel were terrified of us. They thought the war would stay very far away, but we brought it home to them, and that concept scared the shit out of them.”
Clement shrugged then. “Looking back at it now, it wasn’t much of a tactical victory, but it had the effect of diminishing 5 Suns Navy morale, which was almost better than taking the station would have been. We snuck out of there as fast as we could, avoiding 5SN patrols the whole way home. When I got back to Argyle, I was the first hero of the Rim Confederation Navy and the war, like it or not.”
“And how many 5 Suns Alliance Navy sailors did you kill in your sneak attack?” asked the female middie, pointedly. All eyes turned to Clement then, measuring how he would react.
“I have no way of knowing. Corvettes used to carry a crew of eighteen in those days. The one thing I will say in my defense is that in those early days of the war we never sought to destroy the enemy ships. Hell, the 5 Suns Navy wasn’t our enemy, the corrupt 5 Suns Alliance government was. We targeted the propulsion sections of the corvettes only, to knock them out, not destroy them, but they were too small and they were destroyed. The war was fought that way all the way up to the Battle of Columbia,” Clement said, then he took another drink of his ale.
“What changed the rules of engagement at Columbia?” asked the Asian middie, Tsu.
Clement thought about that before answering. “We started making our own ships, better ships than before, better than the 5 Suns Navy even had. I got the gunship Beauregard and she was almost untouchable. But our leaders forgot they were fighting for survival, not victory. We got too close to winning, we became a real threat to the 5 Suns Alliance government, and then one of our ships took out an unarmed troop transport with two thousand 5 Suns Alliance soldiers on board. After that, it was mayhem. No quarter, and our little war of independence turned into a war of attrition we had no chance to win.”
“They say you personally extended the war for two years with your tactics,” said the blond middie.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” replied Clement, “but I do know we fought hard to win every engagement, and we had more than our share of successes. Hell, the Virginis sector government surrendered to us after our surprise attack, but we never had any intention of taking it over. It was just a hit and run. It was just our three little worlds, fighting to survive. We thought the 5 Suns government might leave us alone. We weren’t really offering much to the other worlds in the 5 Suns Alliance, and we took more than we gave. My parents relied on subsidies to grow wheat and corn but it was all we could do to survive eating our own food and never shipping anything to the Core worlds. But they came after us anyway, and that was that.” Clement downed the rest of his ale, and Yan followed suit.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Clement said to the middies, then started to leave.
The blond one piped up one last time. “Sir, if I may ask, why are you here on Kemmerine? And why are you wearing a navy uniform with no rank?”
Yan leaned in at this. “No, you may not ask, Middie, now off with the lot of you,” she said forcefully, like an angry mother, with a wave of her hand. And at that they were all gone back to their booth. Clement turned to walk out of The Battered Hull, and all eyes were on him as casual conversation resumed around them.
“Satisfied?” asked Yan as they made their way back to the escalator. Clement shrugged.
“No,” he said, and they walked on in silence.
A few minutes later they were back at Clement’s cabin door. He turned to Yan. “Want to come in?”
“Why?” she said.
“You look a little ‘peaked,’” he said.
“What does ‘peekt’ mean?”
“Peek-ed.” Clement smiled as he unlocked his cabin door. “It’s just something my mother used to say to me when I was sick. It means you look a bit pale, that’s all.”
“I’m not sick,” protested Yan. Then her hand went to her forehead. Clement’s smile got a bit bigger.
“Are you sure?” Clement asked.
“Goddamn sailor’s ale,” said Yan, then she wobbled just a bit. Clement took her by the waist, to steady her at first, then pulled her in close. “I think I’m gonna—” At that Clement hustled her into his room and got her to the toilet just in time. He left her alone with the bathroom door shut for a few minutes until she reemerged, still unsteady but with a bit more color in her face.
“Thank you,” she said, then sat down on the couch, far apart from him.
“You’re welcome. I called down to the navy concierge, and they’re sending up a female MP to escort you back to your room,” he said.
Yan glanced at him from under the hand covering her eyes. “Thank you again.”
The MP arrived and Yan departed without another word. As Clement shut the door behind her, he turned back, contemplating his empty stateroom.