Starfist FR - 03 - Recoil (26 page)

“She was meeting three of her friends for dinner. I told her to bring all of them!” Kindy beamed.

Williams looked reflective. “Two of us and only four women. Do you think there’s enough of them to go around?”

Kindy roared in laughter. When he recovered, he asked,

“How much cred do you have left in your chit? She said we should go to a place called The Upper Crust. Sounds expensive. And we’ll be paying for six.”

Williams put a hand on Kindy’s shoulder and leaned in close. “Him, don’t worry your ugly little head. Uncle D’Wayne is flush. You, on the other hand, might have to go to the boss and ask for an advance.”

“No way, not never. We tell him, he’s liable to want to go with us.”

“You’re right, it’s better nobody else knows.”

“Anyway, I’ve got plenty of available cred myself.” Kindy’s eyes twinkled when he said, “I’ll just tell Dad we need the car keys tonight.” The two of them burst out laughing. 518 North Hamilton Street, Sky City Barbora Domiter lived in an attractive, white, wood-frame house on a quarter-acre lot in a quiet residential neighborhood within easy walking distance of the government center where she worked. The well-lit streets all had paved walkways. Not only was the exterior of the house well maintained, care had been taken in its modest landscaping. The lights glowing through the windows and on the porch made the house look very welcoming and cheery. Williams was driving one of the two Land Runners on loan to the Marines; he parked along the curb even though there was plenty of room on the drive leading to the attached garage.

“Shall we?” Sergeant Kindy said enthusiastically, opening his door.

“Yes, let’s,” Sergeant Williams agreed while getting out, though with not quite as much enthusiasm. They’d flipped a coin before leaving Marine House. One of them was to drive from Barbora Domiter’s house to The Upper Crust; the other to drive back to her house at the end of the evening. Both of them believed whichever of them was in the backseat at the end of the evening would have more fun during the drive than the one in the backseat at the beginning. The front door opened as soon as they reached the porch, side by side, almost marching.

“Him! D’Wayne! You’re here, and right on time!” Barbora Domiter glowed as welcomingly as her house. The two Marines saw three other women peering expectantly from behind her.

“Barbora,” Kindy said, beating Williams by half a beat, taking her hand, and kissing it. Then he felt chagrined when Williams, instead of taking her hand, put his hands lightly on her shoulders and leaned in to brush a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” Barbora Domiter gushed. “I’d almost thought you weren’t going to call!”

“We were always going to call,” Kindy said.

“It’s just that we’ve been in the field every day,” Williams amplified, “and get in too late to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered me,” she said in a low voice. She cocked a critical eye at them. “You know, I thought you’d show up in those invisible suits like you were wearing when we first met.”

“Oh, no,” Kindy objected. “Those are our field uniforms. We only wear them when we don’t want the enemy to be able to see us.”

“But think of how much fun we could have if we never knew where you were until you said something—or until we felt your touch!”

“Next time,” Williams said decisively. “Definitely next time.”

That made Barbora laugh. Then she said brightly, “What am I doing keeping you outside? Come in, come in.” She took each of them by a hand and stepped back, drawing them through the entrance, then deftly spun about and back-stepped so that she stood between them, still holding their hands.

“Sergeant Him Kindy and Sergeant D’Wayne Williams, I’d

like you to meet my very dear friends, Jindra Bednar, Marketa Knochova, and Petra Zupan.”

The three other women had been standing back, but now they came forward to meet the two Marines. It was the first time Kindy and Williams had seen Barbora standing. She was slightly taller than either had imagined, but every bit as shapely. Petra Zupan was the same height as Barbora. Her hair was red, her smile impish. Jindra was a bit shorter, honey blond hair and hazel eyes, prominent cheeks, a bit on the thin side, and if she wasn’t careful her face would bear permanent smile creases one day. Marketa was the shortest. Her blue eyes contrasted with her long, dark brown hair. Like the others, she looked like she knew how to have fun. They wore dresses, silvery gray or burgundy or amber or scarlet, that floated and shimmered, clung and billowed with every movement. All four wore jewelry that shone and sparkled. When they shook hands, Petra held her hand up so that the men could brush their lips across its back. Marketa shot her a look, then went back to smiling.

“I made reservations for nine o’clock,” Barbora said. “So we’ve got time for a drink before we have to leave.” She cocked her head questioningly.

“I brought a bottle of Wildcatter schnapps,” Jindra said. “Is that all right with you?”

“Lovely lady,” Williams said, “we are Confederation Marine sergeants. We have yet to meet any alcoholic beverage that isn’t all right with us.”

“With pleasure, Jindra,” Kindy said. He suspected Williams had called her “lovely lady” because he didn’t remember her name. Score one for me, he thought. Barbora hustled away to get glasses—but not so fast that her hips didn’t sway. Jindra went with her to open the schnapps.

“Now, don’t you two go trying to steal them,” Barbora called over her shoulder. “They asked me out to dinner. You two are just add-ons.”

That made Marketa and Petra laugh, and Marketa reached out to take both Marines by the hand. Petra, standing to Marketa’s left, smacked her nearer hand away from Kindy’s. “Now, now,” she said, “don’t be greedy.”

She took Kindy’s hand in both of hers and gazed into his eyes. The two men very carefully did not look at each other. Were the women already fighting over them?

“You must be very strong,” Marketa said to Williams. She slipped her hand up his arm to his biceps.

“I’ll bet you’ve been all over Human Space,” Petra said to Kindy.

“We’re strong enough,” Williams said proudly. Kindy cleared his throat before saying, “I’ve seen a lot of it, yeah.”

“Oh, yes, very strong,” Marketa husked, kneading his upper arm.

“I was born in Sky City,” Petra pouted. “I’ve never been offworld.”

“Come, come,” Barbora said suddenly, insinuating herself between the other two, “I saw them first.” She handed glasses of amber fluid to the two Marines. “Why are we standing here?

Let’s sit down and make ourselves comfortable.” Her hips swayed with delightful grace as she led the way to a love seat, a sofa, and three comfortable chairs. She artfully put the men in chairs that had been placed so they were the twin foci of the room. The women took seats facing them, moving so their dresses settled cloudlike until they rested as dew upon their bodies.

And they chatted, chattered, until it was time to leave for the restaurant. Afterward, neither Kindy nor Williams could remember what they talked about; they’d only been able to hear the tones and tinkles and trills of the women’s voices, see the shimmy and shimmer of the dresses caressing their bodies. They were entranced. And preening. Williams snickered to himself on the way to The Upper Crust. The women had piled into the rear of the Land Runner

straightaway and closed the doors, leaving Kindy to sit in the front with Williams. Any chance of Kindy’s having fun on the way to the restaurant, Williams thought, is cut off. The Upper Crust, Sky City Even though on most missions to strange worlds they spent nearly all of their time in the field, away from civilized amenities, Sergeants Him Kindy and D’Wayne Williams had been around enough to have dined in some of the finest establishments in all of Human Space. So even though The Upper Crust was one of the best restaurants on Haulover, to the two widely traveled Marines it had more pretension than class. But that was fine with the Marines. The pretensions didn’t extend to the prices, which weren’t much higher than at the Snoop

’n Poop in Havelock, or to the dress code—a restaurant with more class than pretensions wouldn’t have let them in dressed as they were. Besides, the four lovely women with them provided all the class Kindy and Williams could possibly desire. The table at which they were seated was shaped like a halfmoon. The maître d’ sat the four women along the curved side and the men on the straight, once again at the focus, with neither sitting next to a woman. They examined the menus—

Kindy and Williams accepted the women’s suggestions—had an aperitif, ate when the food arrived, had a flaming concoction of something local for dessert, and talked. Oh, did they talk. In Barbora’s living room, they’d chatted and chattered about things of little interest to anybody, other than their value as icebreakers—and for the men to hear the voices of women. At dinner—before the entrée; during dining; before, during, and after dessert; and afterward until they had to leave—the women asked questions about the Marines’

work. Between them, Kindy and Williams had enough stories, mostly true, to keep them all talking for more than a week. And enough of those stories were unclassified that they could take several days to tell them without risk of revealing secrets. The women punctuated the men’s stories with gasps, shivers, occasional laughs, and, once in a while, a hand stretched across the table to touch a hand or wrist, and exclamations of

“You’re so brave!” were heard. Kindy and Williams ate it up. They were in love. Not with any one of the women in particular; each of them would have been happy with any of the four. By the time they noticed that they were nearly the only people left in The Upper Crust, and the maître d’ and waiters were surreptitiously checking their watches, Kindy and Williams were actively wondering exactly how they were going to pair off for the night. Or trio off—they wouldn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings by leaving her out. Or whether they’d all stay together in one big mash. Kindy signaled for the bill, which he and Williams split, adding a tip generous enough to make the staff smile. By the time they were all back in the Land Runner, the two Marines were suspecting that matters weren’t going to work out the way they’d thought: The women once more piled into the back of the vehicle, leaving Kindy and Williams to ride together in the front, sans the anticipated contact with wonderful female flesh.

“Where to now, ladies?” Kindy asked from the driver’s position.

“Back to my place,” Barbora said in a voice dreamy enough to restore hope in the men’s hearts. 518 North Hamilton Street

“I had a wonderful time!” Barbora gushed as they all stood at the foot of her porch steps. “Thank you, both of you, for an absolutely delightful evening.”

“Oh, me too,” Marketa chimed in.

“Thank you so much!” Jindra and Petra added.

“It was my pleasure,” Sergeant Williams said, giving a shallow bow. “You’re such wonderful company.”

“My pleasure too,” Sergeant Kindy said, reaching out to pull one or more of the women into an embrace. The women hardly seemed to move, but his hands and arms snared none of them.

“But it’s late now, and we all have to be at work early,”

Barbora said, “so I’m afraid it’s time to bid you a fond adieu.”

“Yes,” Jindra said, “ ‘adieu’ rather than ‘good night.’ ”

“We’ll have to do this again,” Petra said.

“And go someplace where we don’t spend the entire night in a restaurant,” Marketa said.

“Well, you’re home,” Williams said, looking at Barbora.

“Can we give the rest of you a lift home?”

“Oh, no need for that,” Marketa said. “I’m just a few doors down.”

“Jindra and I came together in my landcar,” Petra said, “so we don’t need a ride.”

“Call Barbora to set up another time for us all to get together,” Jindra said. “Please. I’d really like to see you again.”

She looked at both of them. Williams swallowed a sigh.

“We will,” Kindy assured her, and looked at Barbora who smiled back at him and nodded.

“We’ll still see you home,” Williams said, “even if none of you need a ride.”

There was a quick flurry of women stepping close, leaning forward with hands touching shoulders or chests, and the brushing of lips across cheeks. By the time each of the Marines had been lightly bussed four times, Marketa was more than halfway home, skipping all the way. Jindra and Petra jumped into Petra’s landcar and headed off. Barbora danced up the steps to her front door, opened it, and blew a kiss over her shoulder before she disappeared.

And then Kindy and Williams were standing alone on the walkway. They looked at each other for a moment then, as though in response to a parade ground command, turned about and got in the Land Runner. On the way back to Marine House, Williams asked, “Do you think we just got taken?”

“We’re Force Recon, Marine. We find ways in where others don’t even try.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way. After he parked in back of Marine House but before opening the door and dismounting, Williams had another question.

“Remember that night in the Snoop ’n Poop? When all those women Marines came in? Remember the two gunnys who followed them in?”

“Yeah, the sheepdogs.”

“I’ve got a funny feeling that all four of them were acting as sheepdogs for each other.”

Kindy thought about it for a moment. “You know, you might be right. You just might be.”

Williams nodded as though to a great truth. “There’s nothing a Force Recon Marine likes better than a good challenge.”

“Got that right, brother.”

Marine House

When Sergeant Williams woke the next morning, he found Sergeant Kindy already awake, sitting half dressed on the side of his bed, staring at something in his hands, looking distressed.

“What?” Williams asked.

“I just found these in my shirt pocket,” Kindy said, handing over two small slips of paper. “They must have put them there when we were saying good night.”

Williams gave him a curious look, then looked at the slips. The first one had three words, “Call me, please!” and a comm number. Williams raised his eyebrows at Kindy while he shuffled the other slip of paper to the top. He read it; a comm number with the words, “I’d love to see you again. Soon.”