e to ask in what condition. And
besides, it could not possibly.....

"At the former headquarters of the Alliance High Command." These words
not seeming to make an impression, he added, "On Rembrandt. Our envoy
went to negotiate terms of surrender."

"Ara Heidi Brunner?" He pronounced the words slowly, with rising and
uncontrollable emotion. "You're sure?"

"Yes, sir. She asked for you specifically, if you would be allowed---"

"I've got to go to her!" He rose and started for the door, but lost
his balance and stumbled down on one knee. He pushed away the
adjutant, who was leaning over him.

"It's the sleeping pill. Tell the doctor I need a stimulant, and find
out about a landing craft." He waved his arm vaguely.

"Colonel Liebenstein has said to meet him aboard the Kythera in half an
hour. They will be sending a party to the capitol at that time."

"Have we a functioning shuttle?" The deja-vu was almost too powerful.

"Yes, Commander."

"Go. Go." The young man left the room as he strained to right himself
and recover some semblance of calm. Realizing the latter was
impossible, and that the stimulant would make it worse, being so far
beyond any choice..... He sat helpless on the edge of the bed, and
gave himself up to the Sea which had dashed him so mercilessly, yet now
was bearing him, heedless, toward all his desire. "If only she is all
right!" His head dipped again beneath the drowning swells, and he
struggled for breath.

A medic entered with a syringe and a distracted, irritated look on his
face. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Brunner said nothing,
rolled up the sleeve and pointed to his upper arm. Shortly afterward
the adjutant returned. No longer shunning his help, he leaned heavily
against him, and after the first mad adrenalin rush, made his way as in
a three-legged race to the shuttledock.

"Can you fly a shuttle?" he asked as they entered. But seeing a pilot
already at the helm, he asked instead, "Can you be spared from your
duties?"

"Yes, sir. If you wish---"

"I do." A complex series of emotions, such as only real life can
provide, made him not want to be parted from this lad, so very little
more than a boy.

The shuttle made its way to the Kythera, from which her summons had
come. Upon arrival he and the boy boarded the larger landing craft,
which then made for the soft and flowing hues of Dutch Rembrandt.
Brunner's last rational thought of that voyage was t