Seas of Venus(129)

Caffey grinned at Leaf's striker. "You were saying, kid?"

"I was saying," growled Bozman, "that I got the last two."

Leaf belched. "That's the price newbies pay for being allowed to sit with vets like me and Fish," he said. "Pay gladly, if they're smart."

The motorman's voice was mellow—for Leaf. The beer had given him enough of a buzz to dull memories the afternoon's Board of Review had churned up. He basked in the glow of being alive.

The Herd, like all the Free Companies, granted its personnel liberal leave to browse the rich entertainments of the keeps. Despite that, men on base duty needed after-hours relaxation; base facilities gave credit against pay; and a certain percentage of mercenaries found they simply didn't like the company of civilians.

The Dirtside Saloon was one of scores of bars within Hafner Base's fortified perimeter. It was full of men, and so were all its sister clubs and saloons.

"Got through another, didn't we, Leafie?" Caffey said in a reflective tone. "Been a few of those."

The Dirtside was lighted by bands of muted green which drifted slowly across the ceiling. The illumination was adequate for the duty squad of Shore Police who kept watch through their image-intensification visors, but Leaf found it hard to be sure of the torpedoman's expression.

"There was a few of them back on Block Eighty-One," Leaf rasped. "Fuck it. Any one you walk away from."

"You two knew each other when you were growing up, didn't you?" Bozman said over the rim of his glass. He was careful not to look at either of the chiefs as he spoke.

"In a manner of speaking, kid," Caffey said.

Leaf laughed without humor. The lights in his mind brightened to billowing red flames for a moment before sinking back into the bar's cool green. "We wasn't friends, if that's what you mean."

"Hell, Leafie," the torpedoman said. "We didn't kill each other. That counts for something on Block Eighty-One." The liquid in Caffey's glass trembled as his fist tightened. His eyes were unfocused. "D'ye ever go back, Leafie?" he asked. All the joking, all the easy fellowship, had been flayed from his voice.

Leaf gulped his beer. "Hell, no," he said. "Hell, no."

Caffey looked at the assistant motorman. "Kid," he ordered, "get us another pitcher."

Bozman bobbed his head and scraped his chair back from the table. The noncoms stared at his back as he fought through the press to the bar, but their minds were on other things.

"You're smart," Caffey said. "I went back the once. Half the guys we knew was dead, and the rest of them was in jail. On on the netters for life, if that counts as life. It's a jungle back there, Leafie. It's worse 'n what's out beyond the perimeter."

The automatic cannon which guarded the electrified frontier of Hafner Base crashed a regular accompaniment to Herd life. It was only by concentrating that the mercenaries noticed them. Leaf's experienced ears could differentiate muzzle blasts from the slightly-sharper counterpoint of shells bursting at the jungle rim. Occasionally, a heavier gun would join in to deal with a particular threat.

"God," Leaf muttered.

Bozman was back with a pticher so full that it sloshed when he set it on the table. The motorman blinked. Caffey looked surprised too. It hadn't seemed there'd been enough time. . . .

"Look," said Bozman as he sat down again, "I got a question. Not—"

Both noncoms jerked their heads around like gun turrets, ready to fire.

"—about any of that," the assistant motorman blurted quickly. "About the Board of Review this afternoon." He forced a smile.

Neither of the chiefs smiled back. "Go ahead," Leaf said.

Bozman licked his lips. "Look," he said. "It's about you guys testifying that K44 sheered off when the shooting started. I didn't say nothing to the Board—"

"Not as dumb as he looks," Caffey said to Leaf. His voice was as playful as a cat killing.

"I didn't say nothing," Bozman continued, staring determinedly at the table, "but I saw K44 running in ahead of us all the way."

He swallowed and looked up again, attempting another smile. "I mean, y'know, I thought I did."

Caffey started to laugh. Bozman's expression became so gogglingly silly that the motorman laughed the harder. Leaf leaned over to slap his striker on the back.

"Oh, kid," the motorman chortled. "I forget what a goddam newbie you are!"

Bozman looked as stiff and angry as a whore with a broom stuffed up her backside. "But I saw—" he said.

"Our shadow," Leaf interrupted. "You saw our shadow. When the starshells dropped, they threw shadows over the waves ahead of us."