A Talent for War Read Free

information, was also located on Rimway. I Page 5

    fed it into the system, dropped into a chair, and put on the headband. The standing image of a woman formed, about a half-meter off the floor, and angled at maybe thirty degrees. The tone wasn't quite right either. I could have compensated easily enough, but I knew I wasn't going to like this, so I didn't bother. The woman was talking to the floor. A library tried to take shape around her. I screened it out.
    The woman was attractive, in a bureaucratic, well-pressed sort of way. "Mr. Benedict, please allow us to extend our condolences on the loss of your uncle." Pause. "He was a valued customer here at Brimbury & Conn, and a friend as well. We'll miss him."
    "As will we all," I said.
    The image nodded. The woman's lips trembled, and when she spoke again there was enough uncertainty in her voice to persuade me that, despite the canned speech, there had been some genuine feeling. "We wanted to inform you that you have been named sole heir of his estate. You will need to file the necessary documents as outlined in the appendix to this transmission." She seemed to flounder a little. "We have started procedures to have Gabriel declared officially dead.
    There will be some delay, of course. The courts are not anxious to move in the case of a missing person, even in this type of situation. However, we will want to be prepared to act on your behalf at the earliest opportunity. Consequently, you should forward the documents to us without delay." She sat down and arranged her skirt. "Your uncle also left in our custody a sealed communication for you, to be delivered in the event of his death. It will be activated at the conclusion of this message by your voice. Say anything. Please do not hesitate to inform us if we can be of further assistance. And, Mr. Benedict—" her voice fell to a whisper, "—I really will miss him."
    I stopped it, ran a test, and adjusted the picture. Then I went back to my chair, but I sat a long time before putting the headband back on.
    "Gabe."
    The lights dimmed, and I was in the old second-floor study back home, seated in a thickly cushioned chair that had once been my favorite. Nothing seemed to have changed: the paneled walls were familiar, and the ancient heavy furniture, and the mahogany-colored drapes. A fire crackled in the grate. And Gabriel stood at my side.
    He was barely an arm's length away, tall, thin, grayer than I remembered, his face partially in shadow. Without a word, he touched my shoulder, pressed down on it. "Hello, Alex."
    This was all simulation. But I knew in that moment how much I would miss the old bastard. I had mixed emotions about this. And it surprised me: I'd have expected Gabe to accept his misfortune without subjecting anyone to a maudlin farewell. It was unlike him.
    I wanted to break the illusion, to just sit and watch, but you have to respond, or the image reacts to your silence by telling you to speak up, or by reassuring you everything's okay. I didn't need that. "Hello, Gabe."
    "Since I'm here," he said ruefully, "I guess things must have gone wrong."
    "I'm sorry," I said.
    He shrugged. "It happens. Timing could hardly have been worse, but you don't always have control of everything. I assume you have the details. Though possibly not, now that I think of it.
    Where I'm going, there's a chance we'll just disappear and never be heard from again."
    Yes, I thought. But not in the way you expect. "Where are you going?"
    "Hunting. Into the Veiled Lady." He shook his head; and I could see he was full of regret. "It is a son of a bitch, Alex, the way things turn out sometimes. I hope that, whatever happened, it happened on the way back. I would not want to die before I find out about this."
    The plea—for that is what it was—hung there. "You never made it to Saraglia Station," I said.
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    "Oh." His brow furrowed, and his frame seemed to collapse. He turned away from me, circled a coffee table that had been in the