“Yes, sir, I guess you could say that,” Janno said as he moved toward the chair. There were delicate matters of DMC protocol involved in the relationship between the two. On duty, they were lieutenant and private, with no special allowances permitted. Off duty, especially away from base, their friendship continued, as little changed by circumstances as possible. It was a situation that came up frequently among the mercenaries. The official rules were few. In each case, the men involved had to feel their way through the possible traps.

  “We went off duty when you closed the door, Janno,” Lon said, speaking softly. Belzer’s reply was a gesture that combined both shrug and nod. “I don’t choose what units to send out on contract,” Lon added.

  “I know,” Janno said. “I’m trying to look on the bright side. This way, there’ll be more money for our honeymoon. It’s just … well, Mary’s not going to be very happy. She must know we’re back. That kind of news spreads fast.”

  “Mary will be waiting when you get back. You know that,” Lon said.

  “I’m not worried about that,” Janno said quickly. “It’s just that … could I ask you a favor?”

  “Sure, I’ll do what I can.”

  “Will you come along with me when I tell her?” There was earnest pleading in Janno’s voice, as if he were a child begging his father for something special.

  “When she gets mad, you’d rather she had me to be mad at instead of just you?”

  For just an instant, a look of utter shock affixed itself to Janno’s face. When it faded, he almost blushed. “Well, there is that too,” he admitted, “but that isn’t what I was thinking about. It’s just that she’ll believe you right off, and if it’s just me, she might wonder for a time if maybe I was trying to back out of the marriage. I don’t want her to think that, not even for a second.”

  “Sure, I’ll come along,” Lon said, suppressing the urge to laugh. “When are you going to tell her?”

  “I already checked. She’s working tonight. I figured I’d tell her there, at the Dragon Lady. She’s planning on quitting before the wedding, but she wouldn’t quit until she saw me—saw that I got home safe and sound. Just in case.” There was no need to explain any farther, and Janno was clearly uneasy with that much.

  “Give me an hour,” Lon said. “I need to shower and change into civilian clothes, and I do need to hang around a bit in case anyone else has special … circumstances.”

  No one else came to Lon with problems. He had not expected anyone else. As much as possible, Lon Nolan knew his men—not just their abilities and their attitudes on the job, but also something about their families, and what they liked to do off duty. Most were single. More than half of the enlisted men in the DMC remained unmarried until theyretired. Nearly a third of the officers in the Corps also remained single during their military service—or held off on marriage until they were nearer to leaving than to entering the Corps. There was no sense of urgency on Dirigent about starting a family. Excluding the chance of being killed in military service, the average lifespan was 120 years. “Old age” was not considered to truly begin until a person hit the centennial of his or her birth.

  If any problems have come up with families, I’ll find out tomorrow, Lon thought. It would take time for news of the company’s return, and its quick turnaround, to spread to all of the families. Not all of the men had been in contact with relatives before starting to head for the gate for reunions—or to crowd in as much carousing as possible in sixty hours.

  Precisely an hour had passed since Janno’s departure from Lon’s quarters when there was another knock on the door. Lon opened it. Janno was there in the corridor, but not alone. Dean Ericks and Phip Steesen were with him.

  Lon looked at Belzer and grinned. “You figured you need more moral support than me?”

  Janno looked sheepish. “Safety in numbers.”

  “He’s buying the first round,” Phip said. “And the last, if any of us are sober enough to remember. That’s the price Dean and I set for going along on this contract.”

  “Do we head straight for the Dragon Lady or make a stop or two on the way to drink up a couple of quarts of courage before you face Mary?” Lon asked.

  “I don’t know about anybody else, but I sure don’t want to face Mary sober, not to tell her that we’re shipping out again in two days,” Janno said. The others had a good laugh. Janno, Dean, and Phip were nearly inseparable. Before Lon won his commission, he had shared that close bond. Although all of them tried to hold on to the past, Lon’s new status always put some restraints to it.

  “Anyone think about eating first?” Lon asked.

  Phip laughed. “Just takes longer to get proper drunk if you eat first. Besides, if we wait until after Janno breaks the news to Mary, we can eat while he’s holding a raw steak to the black eye she’s gonna give him.” Dean and Lon laughed with Phip at that. Janno’s groan was impressive—as if there were actually a chance that he believed that Mary might hit him.

  “You’re not helping,” Janno said. “I need moral support, I get jokes.”

  “We’ll make sure you get to a trauma tube fast,” Phip said.

  “Hey, the longer you guys jaw here, the longer it is before we get any beer in our bellies,” Dean said. That argument overrode the jokes. Drinking time was always precious.

  Dirigent City and the main base of the DMC had grown together over the centuries. The world exported only soldiers and munitions. Everything revolved around the DMC. The linkage was so complete that the General and the Council of Regiments were also the leaders of the civilian government. Corps headquarters also served as Government House for Dirigent, or vice versa, and the affairs of the world were directed from within. Local government was democratic, but the overall affairs of the world were not entrusted to the whims of popular opinion.

  The street that the main gate of the base opened onto was not crowded with taverns and the other haunts of soldiers, though. Instead, it boasted government and professional offices, and monumental facades to impress visiting dignitaries—especially those who might offer contracts to the Corps or the munitions industry. “Camo Town”—the area that existed to service the needs and desires of off-duty soldiers—was beyond that facade, close enough for all but the most desperate thirst.

  Lon and his companions walked. It was three-quarters of a mile from their barracks to the main gate. There was no “public” transportation on base. Once they hit the street beyond the gate, there was a moment of discussion. There were buses and taxis available. They decided to keep walking.

  “We hit the first bar,” Janno said.

  “That’s MacGregor’s, if we’re taking the most direct route to the Dragon Lady,” Phip said instantly. “MacGregor’s, then the Purple Harridan, then …”

  “Enough!” Janno said. “I’ve got to be conscious when I get to Mary.”

  MacGregor’s, a simple pub that claimed to be a perfect replica of an authentic early 21st-century Earth pub right down to the recipes it used for its beers and ales, was little more than two blocks from the main gate, stuck halfway along an alley. It was out of sight from the boulevard that connected the base with the city’s spaceport, which was the route that visiting diplomats and businessmen traveled.

  Phip and Dean carried the conversation during the short walk. Lon had always been the quiet one of the group, even before winning his lieutenant’s pips. Normally, Phip and Janno were the talkers, the ones with a ready joke on any subject, but Janno was quiet now, anxious about breaking the news to his fiancée. He scarcely heard the gibes of his friends. Responding was out of the question. Dean had to fill the gap.

  Lon listened to the chatter with amusement. Although he was the youngest of the four, he had always felt a generation older. He walked a little apart from the others, an unconscious token of the difference in rank between them—maintained as much by his three friends as by him. Even after a long evening of heavy drinking, there would be that gap. There had always been a degree of reserve. When they had first met, Lon was an officer-cadet, needing only the baptism of a combat contract to earn his commission. The others had known then that he would become an officer and might well command them.

  It was not yet three in the afternoon, which meant that MacGregor’s was not busy. Like almost all of the businesses in the district, MacGregor’s depended almost exclusively on soldiers and ex-soldiers for trade. It would be six or seven in the evening before Camo Town really came alive.

  When the four soldiers reached MacGregor’s, Phip was in the lead, pushing open the door with one hand and half tugging Janno along with the other. “You’re buying the first round,” Phip reminded his nervous friend. “We can’t have you getting lost just when we’re here.”

  They headed straight for the bar, where the bartender seemed relieved to see them. “What’ll ya have, lads?”

  “Four pints of your best,” Phip said, pulling Janno up to the bar. “My friend with the long face here is buying.”

  Lon turned and scanned the room while he waited for his ale. There were only two other customers—two men who looked as if they might have retired from the Corps decades earlier sat bent over a table along the side of the room playing draughts and nursing their pint mugs. MacGregor’s did not waste money on extravagant lighting, music, or decoration—or on any of the other devices that many of the bars in Camo Town used as bait to attract and hold customers. The room was dim, lit only by two neon beer signs behind the bar, a small bulb over the till, and what little light came in through two windows covered with filmy sheer drapes. The lights would be turned up later, when there were enough customers to justify it—or when someone complained that he couldn’t see the dartboard well enough to play.

  “Here you are, gents,” the bartender said as he slid the four mugs into place before them. “Enjoy yerselves. There’s plenty more where that came from,” he added as Janno paid.

  “Bottoms up!” Phip said, doing his best to empty his mug in a single gulp. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So much beer and so little time,” he complained.

  Lon took a first sip and forced himself not to grimace. He far preferred chilled lager to ale served at what was laughingly called room temperature—about fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. But Phip had done the ordering, and in MacGregor’s he always ordered ale. He really seemed to see no difference in types or brands. Malt beverages were malt beverages to him, and the more potent they were, the better he liked them.

  Janno’s hand was shaking when he set his mug down after drinking a third of it. He’s really worried about what Mary’s going to say, Lon thought sympathetically. He liked Mary Boles, had from the first time they met. Although she was quite capable of taking care of herself in a pinch, she was not a violent person. Lon had never seen a hint of bad temper in her.

  Phip and Dean each ordered a second drink after the others declined. And those were done before Lon forced down the rest of his pint. Phip was anxious to move on. Janno did not seem particularly eager to move closer to the Dragon Lady … and his own personal dragon lady, as he now seemed to consider her.

  Another hour passed before the men entered the Dragon Lady. Loud music greeted them. Strobing lights assaulted their eyes. The afternoon had progressed enough that there were some customers in the main bar room, and undoubtedly more in the other public—and private—rooms. One of the most profitable enterprises in Camo Town, the Dragon Lady tried to satisfy as many of the wants of its clients as possible—liquor, food, games, and women.

  One of the waitresses spotted Janno and his companions. She waved and grinned, then made her way over to them. “Mary’s working the dining room, Janno,” she said.

  “Thanks, Looza,” Janno said. “I guess we’ll go straight on up.” Like the other waitresses at the Dragon Lady, Looza was dressed simply. Other than shoes, her only garment was an apron—more a belt with two pouches to hold an order pad and tips.

  “Why don’t we have a beer down here first?” Phip asked. “I’m thirsty.”

  “You’re always thirsty,” Dean said.

  “There’s beer upstairs,” Lon said. “You won’t die of thirst before you get there.” Lon spoke lightly, needing to make certain that the others knew that it was a joke. He was sensitive about such things—more, perhaps, than they were.

  “Yeah,” Dean added. “Anyway, since when do you get so impatient when it’s your turn to buy?”

  “My turn? I bought the last one,” Phip said.

  “Just for yourself. You’ve been drinking two for our one,” Dean said. “You’re on your way to a three-killjoy night and the sun isn’t down yet.”

  Lon stopped the talk by pushing the two of them in the direction of the stairs. Janno moved with the group as if he were on a leash … and reluctant to continue the walk. Looza grinned and shook her head, then headed toward a pair of customers at one of the tables.

  “Before we went to New Bali,” Janno said while they climbed the stairs, “Mary said that all the girls here were planning to throw her a big bridal shower as soon as we got back.”

  “So now they’ll just have longer to plan,” Phip said. “And more time to talk themselves into more expensive gifts.” Janno made a sound that was halfway between a growl and a groan.

  When they reached the dining room—called that only because it was the public room nearest the kitchen; it also had a bar—Mary was transferring plates with sausages and hot chips from a tray to a table with four soldiers at it. Mary’s back was to the doorway. She didn’t see her fiancée. Janno seemed prepared to stand where he was until she noticed him, but Lon touched his sleeve, then pointed toward an empty table when Janno turned to see what he wanted. “We might as well sit,” Lon said.

  “I’ll get the beers,” Phip said.

  “Lager for me,” Lon said. “I’ve had enough ale.”

  Phip grinned. “Not a snifter of brandy?”

  “No, no old grape juice,” Lon replied. If anyone’s still conscious enough when we get back to the barracks, maybe this is the time to open that bottle of djorja, he thought. Or wait until tomorrow and start with that. No sense in letting it sit and age for however long we ‘re gone on this next contract. There was almost superstition behind that, though Lon would not admit it, even to himself—the thought that leaving something unfinished at home might lead to not returning from a contract.

  Mary spotted them as they were moving toward the table, but needed a moment to finish her chore before she could head toward them. Although displays of affection werefrowned on in the public rooms of the Dragon Lady—though not in the private rooms, where the waitresses served more than drinks and food—Mary threw her arms around Janno and gave him an almost suffocating kiss. He had to put his arms around her waist and hold on to keep from being carried to the floor by her ardor.

  “I love you, Janno Belzer,” she said when she finally pulled her mouth away from his.

  “I love you too,” he replied—nearly stammered.

  “Should I give my notice tonight?” she asked.

  “We’re going back out in two days,” Janno said, spitting out the bad news quickly. “Another contract.”

  Lon could see the way the news hit Mary—like a pail of ice water. She let go of Janno and took half a step back. “Tell me you’re joking,” she begged.

  Janno shook his head, and did not even think of trying to disguise his own anguish. “We got the news almost before we got off the buses this morning. A big contract, the whole regiment.”

  Mary looked at Dean, and then at Lon, hoping that one of them would contradict Janno. “It’s the truth, Mary,” Lon said. “We’re going right back out, and we don’t know how long the contract will be.”

  “That’s not fair!” Mary said.

  “I won’t argue that,” Lon said. “But it’s how things are.” When they first met, Lon had been bothered by the fact that Janno’s fiancée worked as both waitress and prostitute, but his attitudes came from Earth. On Dirigent, prostitution carried no stigma. There’s really not much difference between prostitution and what we do—we all sell our bodies, Lon had been told. He had needed time to get past his prejudices, but he had come to like Mary, and he had enjoyed meeting several of her coworkers—both socially and professionally.

  Mary abruptly turned back to Janno. “Two days?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “We’ve got to be back in by three o’clock tomorrow night, Thursday morning.”

  “Then we can’t waste any of that time with me workingand you drinking yourself silly,” Mary said. “I’ll go tell the boss I need the rest of the evening off. I was scheduled to have tomorrow off anyway.”

  By the time Phip returned from the bar with the drinks, Janno and Mary were gone. “Okay by me,” Phip said when Dean told him what had happened. “That just means two beers for me this round.” He took a long drink of the first of them before he added, “I guess she took it better than he expected.”

  Dean laughed. “At least in public. Hard telling what she’ll do once she gets him alone somewhere.”

  “I know what she’ll do,” Phip said with a wink that was supposed to be lascivious. If he had not already been well on his way to intoxication, it might have worked.

  “How about some food before we get too far gone?” Lon suggested. “We left before supper.”

  “Hell, we didn’t even bother with lunch,” Phip said, setting down an empty beer glass and reaching for the second. “Why put food into space that could hold more of this?”

  “Because you’ll stay conscious long enough to drink more if you eat,” Dean said.

  Phip hesitated, then nodded. “I buy that,” he said. “But who’s buying the food?”

  “Everybody buys their own food,” Dean said. “That’s the way we always do it.”

  “It was worth a try,” Phip said with a shrug.

  4

  It was 0745 hours the next morning when Lon’s complink buzzed to alert him to an incoming call. He was sitting on his bunk buffing the shine on his dress shoes. He got up, crossed to the entertainment unit, and touched the “Accept” button. “Lieutenant Nolan,” he said.

 

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