Colonel Veeri Thoglakaveera would have preferred to be at the big party that was a feature of Sixday evenings on embassy row. This Sixday it was at the Ikthvoktos embassy. Men, and women too, would no doubt come up to him, if he were there, to ask about the war—what it had been like, what the aliens were like—and that would be enjoyable. But people, at least a few, would know about his supposed impotence.
It hadn't actually been publicized, of course. Even the edict of annulment had seen print only in a volume little known outside government; he'd been assured of it. Inside government, though, there were those who would have noticed, and annulment meant, almost always, that there'd been no consummation. While there were bound to be some, some insiders, who'd heard the impotence story.
And if he was there, reminding them by his presence, people would whisper.
So he'd quietly volunteered to be duty officer for that evening. Not that a duty officer was really needed on a Sixday evening, but policy required it. He wasn't even subject to the duty. His appointment was administered by the Imperial Foreign Ministry; he was simply officed here at the Klestronu Embassy. But volunteering would earn him friends. Friends and points.
Veeri glanced at the commset on the duty desk. Just now it sat lifeless.
Three months, they'd told him! Then, if he wanted, he could resign this appointment and go back to Klestron, reactivate his commission in the marines there. They'd "fixed it up with Rashti," he'd been told.
He didn't look forward to going back. Everyone there would know—everyone who counted. Leolani would make sure of it. "He was impotent," she'd be saying.
He realized his fists were clenched, and opened them, willing his muscles to relax. The Archprelate of Khaloom had to be behind this, the archprelate and his daughter. Who'd have imagined that Leolani could be that vengeful! He'd like to corner her in a nice secluded place somewhere. He'd show her potency till she begged for mercy!
He grunted. Not likely, when you got down to it. There was nothing wrong with his potency, but he had limits, like any man.
He wished he'd never heard of Tain Faronya, that her presence in the ministry had never been mentioned, that she'd been left on Terfreya. He'd had his life perfectly set up: war hero; Vice Minister of Armed Forces; son of the Speaker of the House of Nobles; and son-in-law of the Archprelate of Khaloom, who'd be sultan when Rashti died. And a pretty, tight-ass wife.
And blown it all. Even his father was angry with him.
The commset chirped quietly, and Veeri answered. Someone calling for Cibor, who was out doing what he'd like to be doing, partying.
He'd considered applying for a commission in the Imperial Marines. Then he'd learned he'd have to go through their academy, with all that that meant in terms of underclassman humiliations, plus a three-year curriculum that looked even tougher than he'd been put through on Klestron.
So probably he would go back, back to the Klestronu Marines.