Dark Foundations
priority.” He put his dark glasses on.
    Merral was still pondering the issues that “priority” raised as they walked to the entrance. Suddenly, he looked up to see dozens of faces at the windows staring intently at him. He turned, expecting to see someone behind him. There was no one.
    â€œVero, why is everyone looking at us?”
    Vero’s mouth twitched as if he was trying to stifle his amusement. “Because, Commander, one of us is a very famous person. And it isn’t me.”
    â€œYou mean—”
    â€œWelcome, Commander!” came a shout from a window. Merral looked up to see people waving at him.
    â€œVero,” Merral said, his voice bristling with agitation, “this is appalling!”
    â€œRelax!” Vero hissed with a firm intensity. “It goes with the job.”
    â€œBut what do I do?”
    â€œI suggest, Commander D’Avanos, that as ever, you play the part. Just raise your right hand as a relaxed and informal acknowledgment.”
    Merral hesitated.
    â€œGo on!”
    Merral lifted his right hand rather stiffly.
    â€œNot bad. . . . No, not too high. You don’t want to encourage them. Now give them a little smile, please.”
    â€œIt’s a farce,” Merral whispered between clenched teeth. “An utter farce. I’m encouraging the creation of some sort of celebrity culture. It’s unethical.”
    â€œPerhaps,” Vero murmured. “But remember, these are scared people. They need all the reassurance you can give them. And not to give it definitely would be unethical.”
    Upon entering the building, Merral found himself nodding and giving more waves of acknowledgment.
    As they passed the ticketing booth, Vero nodded toward it. “Remember too, that from now on, you have priority here as well. If you want a seat on a flight and it’s full, you have the authority to throw someone off.”
    â€œThrow them off?”
    â€œNot, of course, literally. Uh, take their seat . . . have them take a later flight.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound very polite.”
    Vero took off his glasses, folded them into his shirt pocket, and then glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot before giving Merral a severe look. “Commander,” he said in a low and impassioned voice, “I see our job as saving Farholme and, maybe, the Assembly. On that basis, courtesy and politeness are now, sadly, optional extras. So let’s go and meet Sergeant Enomoto.”
    They found Lloyd Enomoto sitting alone in a small room off the main lounge, reading something on his diary with a look of determined intensity. He was indeed a big man. Even wearing a casual, loose-fitting, gray suit, you could sense his muscles. In fact, Merral decided that Lloyd didn’t so much sit on the chair, as sit over it. His face was tanned and rugged, his eyes small and blue, and his eyebrows and close-cropped hair were so blond as to be almost white.
    Lloyd rose, gave them a warm lazy smile, and saluted.
    Merral stared up him, realizing that his eyes only came to Lloyd’s chin. He decided to ignore the salute and shook hands instead.
    â€œGood to see you, sir,” Lloyd said in a leisurely voice that was almost a drawl, and Merral noted the twang of the southern islands. “Last time I saw you, you were hanging on to that undercarriage and heading off over the lake. I was really pleased to hear you made it. Glad you’re well.”
    â€œThanks, Sergeant. Remind me where you are from? Bailor?”
    â€œNot quite, sir, Tralescant—next island west.”
    Merral noticed that Lloyd had two bags, a backpack with shoulder straps and a small brown bag with an odd, elongated shape.
    â€œPreparing for a trip, eh?”
    â€œYup. My own stuff and . . .” Lloyd gestured to the brown bag. “Well, my . . . gear.” His voice had a note of awkwardness that caught Merral’s attention.
    â€œGear? What sort of

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