Freddy Soligen had been miraculously saved from the physical beating
taken by Joe Mauser in the crash. The pilot, sitting so close before
him, cushioned with his own body that of the Telly reporter.
For that matter, he had been saved the financial disaster as well,
save for that amount he had contributed to the campaign to increase
Mauser's stature in the eyes of the buffs. His Category Communications
superiors had not even charged him for the cost of the equipment he
had jettisoned from the glider during the flight, nor that which had
been destroyed in the crash. If anything, his reputation with his
higher-ups was probably better than ever. He'd been in there pitching,
as a Telly reporter, right up until the end when the situation had
completely pickled.
All that he had lost was his dream. It had been so close to the
grasping. He could almost have tasted the sweetness of victory. Joe
Mauser, at the ultimate top of the hero-heap. Joe Mauser accepting
bounces in both rank and caste. And then, Joe Mauser being properly
thankful and helpful to Freddy and Sam Soligen, in their turn. So near
the realization of the dream.
He entered his house wearily, finally free of all the ridiculous
questioning of the commission and the courts martial of Mauser and
Cogswell, and Flaubert, Hideka and their commander, General McCord.
All had been found guilty, though in different degrees. Using weapons
of warfare which post-dated 1900. Than which there was no greater
crime between nations.
He tossed the brief case he had carried to a table, and made his way
to the living room, heading for the auto-bar and some straight
spirits.