Free Cassandra Kresnov 04: 23 Years on Fire by Joel Shepherd Page A

presuming you’d like to be included in the ongoing investigation, should your other activities not preclude it?”
    “Yes,” said Sandy, not at all surprised that Ibrahim anticipated her wishes. “The FSA’s on wind-down for the moment, and SWAT are doing quite well without me.”
    “Well, insert yourself into the investigations construct at the earliest, I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you. And Cassandra, good job on Pyeongwha.” His gaze was very intense, and sincere. “An excellent conclusion to a truly serious problem, and well worth the cost.”
    Nods and loud approval from around the table. Sandy knew what Ibrahim said was true for herself, without needing to be told. Yet it still surprised her how much better she felt to hear it from his mouth, and to hear the approval of these men and women whose opinions she respected.
    “Thank you,” she said, with genuine gratitude. “All of you.”
    “Cassandra,” Ibrahim added, “if I could speak with you before you leave.”
    She waited until the others had gone, and the door shut behind them. Ibrahim, Sandy was always pleased to see, looked little changed and little older than when she’d first met him. He had one of those faces, angular and big nosed, Afghan and statuesque. He’d have looked old when he was young, but now hardly seemed to age.
    “Well,” he said, with a faint smile. It was affection, as much as a man like Ibrahim ever showed in this professional world. Sandy treasured it. “Good to see you back safely. Not that I had any doubt of it.”
    “Good to be back safely.” Sandy never commented on her chances. Others thought her more indestructible than she knew she was. Even she needed luck, and she’d been lucky on Anjula, and lucky in every fight she’d been in. One did not toy with luck by pronouncing oneself safe from harm.
    “There is a conference next month,” said Ibrahim. “Closed to the public and media, experts only. The topic is GIs in the Federation. I’d like you to be the keynote speaker.”
    “Hmm,” said Sandy. She’d never done public speaking, unless one counted the occasional TV interview, Senate questioning or, of course, command addresses to her troops. She thought keynote speaking ought to be easier, since no one would be shooting at her. Hopefully. “Who qualifies as an expert?”
    “Oh, very many people who probably do not qualify as such,” said Ibrahim, with a faint smile. “But you’ll get that at every such gathering.”
    “Rainbow Coalition?”
    “No. No politicians, no activists. Academics and experts in the security field. Field expertise only, no one without it gets in.”
    “You can enforce that?” Sandy asked with a raised eyebrow.
    “You’ve become very cynical in your time here,” Ibrahim observed with amusement.
    “I believe the word is ‘experienced.’ But sure, if you ask, I’ll do it.”
    “I don’t hear much enthusiasm. It should be a positive exercise, I believe there is significant progress to be made, simply by education. The recent arrivals on Callay are mostly doing very well; a study of that progress, presented by yourself, ought to help that process of education along.”
    Sandy sighed. “I’ve become wary of injecting myself into these debates. It becomes about me, and we lose focus on the issue.”
    “Cassandra,” Ibrahim replied, with that impressively mild-yet-firm tone he had when delivering a lecture, “I’m afraid you cannot avoid becoming a spokesperson on this issue, at least among the experts. Not if you wish to remain as heavily involved in the matter as you presently are. And as your immediate superior, in your primary capacity as a CSA operative, I then become accountable for your actions, for they involve the CSA as well by virtue of your employment here.
    “Now, I am happy to support you on this, not because of our friendship but because I genuinely believe that your approach is most constructive, and the best course for Callayan security. But