"I see," Ross said again.
"In consequence of all this," the other went on with clipped precision, "the Federated Governments feel you've earned a certain recompense in terms of honor." He held out a hand to one of the men behind him. "Mr. Livingston...."
"Here, sir." The man laid a flat leather case on the commandant's palm.
"Stewart Ross"—Commandant Padora stood very erect now—"it is my privilege as commandant of the Federated Governments' integrated security agencies to present you at this time with our highest honor, the Starburst Medal First Class for service to humanity above and beyond the call of duty."
He leaned forward as he finished; took the silver decoration from its case and pinned it to the breast of Ross' sleeper jacket.
"Thank you, sir," Ross said. "I do appreciate it."
The other eyed him keenly. "Your face doesn't match your words, Mr. Ross," he observed. "Perhaps it's because you feel you've lost something more important to you than all the FedGov's medals."
And then, pivoting: "Miss Hall!"
For the first time, Ross' head lifted from its pillow. The hand that clutched his coverlet suddenly was shaking.
In the same moment, the blue-uniformed group behind Commandant Padora parted.