"You'll be patched up," the Guard Major in charge said grimly. "Long enough to take a mindprobe, anyway." He reached under his blouse for a pair of handcuffs, put them on the prisoner, and turned to his squad. "Take this one to the medical unit, the rest straight to Security."
Hovan released the assassin with a shove. "What will be done with him? And why would he shoot Ranger Tarlac?"
"Did you see the button he was wearing?" the Major asked. At Hovan's nod, he went on. "He's a Humanity Firster. They're a bunch of fanatics and troublemakers, though we never thought anyone, even one of them, would be stupid enough to do something like this. He'll be mindprobed to learn his accomplices—and how he managed to smuggle even an old-style gun into the Palace. What he did's on record, on Security monitor tapes and probably the newscasters' gear as well. He'll be shot."
The Major paused, then smiled. "I never thought I'd say this to a Traiti, Lieutenant Hovan, but—well done. I could wish you were in my command."
"I thank you, Major. But for now I am the only one of Ch'kara, here, and I must hold my ruhar's death-watch." He remembered the wording Steve had said was correct for requests. "By your leave, sir?"
"All right, Lieutenant, go to him."
Hovan knelt beside the inert form, his only emotion curiosity. His mourning was done; Steve had died and joined the Lords days ago, and Hovan had known he couldn't remain limited to his body—but why choose to leave it this way, with the indignity of being attacked from behind?
Guards had surrounded Emperor Davis at the first sign of trouble, and he motioned them back so he could look down at the scene: Hovan kneeling over Tarlac's bloody form as medics moved in, the Supreme shielding the First Speaker with his body, the courtiers milling around in confusion. Yes, events were working out as Tarlac had predicted.
He seated himself again and called, "Cor'naya Hovan."
Hovan looked up. "Yes, Your Majesty?"