at point.
I agree, we'll leave that until our next no-notice
inspection."

"Well, we did have a fire fight, of sorts, on the
Sandbox," Brad interjected.

"By itself, much less significant than the raids
we've made on UIPS patrols and shipping. The
Sandbox incident was the ship commander's fault
however one looks at it. By the way," Drummer
grinned. "I suggested to Colonel Hanno that
he chastise the Sandbox's commander about
allowing his people to attack my agents. Lax
discipline, and all that."

Brad laughed, but grimly recalled Rimov's wasted
death. Drummer joined him in the laugh, then
quickly resumed his serious expression. Elbows
on desk, hands clasped, he frowned at Brad.

"In categorizing the Sandbox incident
'insignificant' I do so only in the context of its
effect on objectives and strategy. In another
sense, it was quite important."

"Oh?"

"Narval was pleased with the way you handled
yourself on the Dragon in dealing with Hanno
and Bura."

"How did he find out?"

"Scarf's nature, it seems, made him anxious to
get a verbatim record of everything said in his
presence during Tornado Six. He was wired, and
everything said in his presence was recorded.
Had events gone otherwise, I'm convinced he
would have lifted statements that each of us
made and twisted them to discredit us.

"Putting Scarf in hospital immediately upon return
to base didn't give him the chance to tailor the
transcript. Since he reports directly to Narval,
the recordings were sent to the boss from the
hospital as soon as Scarf was admitted -- routine
security under the circumstances. I heard a short
while ago that Narval spent some time in Scarf's
hospital room. I can only assume he was questioning
Scarf on the unedited recording as well as whatever
he witnessed."

"What happens now?"

"Got a call from Narval's office a short while ago.
Narval wants to meet you. Call his office ASAP
and get a time."

##

Narval's stare was long and searching. He ignored
the armed guards standing within effective range
of Brad.

"Sit." Narval pointed to a heavy chair directly in
front of his desk. Straight-backed from flat, hard
seat to shoulder level, extension clamshells from
the upper section of the chair curved forward
sharply to form tapered wings.

Brad sat. The clamshells closed in and stopped
a few centimeters from his temple. Wired pads
extended and touched his skull at several points.
The chair was not comfortable; p