Free Radiant by James Alan Gardner Page B

had to work through the courts, but that was just a formality. The important trial had been held in the news media, and the verdict was unequivocal: guilty as charged.
    The entire High Council had resigned in disgrace. Even rank-and-file admirals who weren't on the council fell prey to suspicion... except, of course, Ramos herself. She became so popular, newswires willingly printed her picture—usually with the birthmark lightened to soft mauve, but sometimes (when an article wanted to depict her as an implacable force for justice) with the birthmark left dark and foreboding.
    Ramos had dominated the news for a month. During that time, she met with almost every politician on New Earth, plus many more who flew in from other planets just to grab a photo op. Those of us at the Explorer Academy believed that Ramos would be named president of the new High Council; she was the only admiral who still held the public's confidence. Rumor said the civilian government wanted to announce a complete slate of High Admirals all at once, and needed time to make sure none of the new appointees had been involved in the old council's crimes... but as soon as the background checks were complete, Festina Ramos would surely become the navy's admiral-in-chief.
    Then Ramos disappeared. No word where she was going—just a brief interview with a third-string reporter who happened to be hanging around New Earth's main spaceport. Ramos said duty called her elsewhere, and she might not be back for some time. "Best wishes to the new High Council, may they serve with honor, I trust they'll receive everyone's full support, gotta go now, bye." Or words to that effect.
    With that, Festina Ramos swept off the public stage like a tired ballerina who wants to get away before someone calls, "Encore!"
    Navy gossip occasionally reported Ramos sightings around the galaxy—a day on Troyen with Queen Innocence... four days on Celestia with Lord Protector York and his Mandasar wife... three weeks in seclusion on Demoth with some junior proctor of the Vigil... rumors of surprise visits to archaeological digs, disease research centers, and the YouthBoost vats on Sitz—but Ramos avoided the media, never gave public statements, and kept on the move. By the time word leaked out where she'd been, she was already someplace else.
    Her behavior provoked countless theories. For example, some suggested that during her investigations into the High Council, she'd discovered something she hadn't made public: a threat much worse than the crimes she'd revealed, and now she was racing from planet to planet, trying to end the danger before disaster struck. A number of my fellow Explorers, however, were sure she was the victim of "pretty people politics"—the top echelons of the Technocracy couldn't stomach a disfigured purple-cheeked woman taking command of the fleet, so they sent her on meaningless errands to remove her from the spotlight. Personally, I wondered if she'd just got fed up with the politicians, the media, and all the other talk-talk-talk. If she'd really been offered the highest post in the navy, she might have turned it down as more trouble than it was worth. Then she'd happily fled the public eye and was now on extended vacation, going wherever she liked... perhaps helping out here and there, but certainly not battling galactic-scale dangers.
    Still, I'd known better than to mention my suspicions to other Academy cadets. They'd worshiped Ramos as a hero. She'd been an Explorer herself before the Admiralty abruptly bumped her (at age twenty-six) to lieutenant admiral and made her the navy's problem-solver-without-portfolio. Nobody knew how she'd won such a promotion, though everyone suspected she'd caught the High Council in some mischief and blackmailed them into making concessions. Certainly, Ramos's first official act was to conduct a "policy review" of the Explorer Corps, leading to an overhaul of corps operations and substantial improvements in the treatment of