30. EPILOGUE: Mais de Portraits
While change had come, it was change that nobody had expected and few had wanted.
He faced the ambassador and rasped, “You must leave. Earth is not ready.”
“Do you like what you see?”
It became, in a word, Armageddon.
“Frank causing a ruckus, eh?” He chuckled. “Well, leave that to him.”
Drowned out, the sound was, by the sheer pandemonium, sound and fury beyond imagination, and beyond every prisoner’s wildest hope.
The witness lab. Cold witness! Give it a mouth to speak, and ears to hear, and an eye to see the arcoiris laser now firing, turning a red hall to every color under the sun, and do you reckon it would know what valor it had seen? Do you reckon it would say “bravo?”
There he went, invisible, intangible, immaculate, knowing not where he was going nor how to get there, but of perfect knowledge concerning his wits, and Drac’s hopes, and those wayfinding ways of the soldier—that forced journeyman!