Tanderon (17 page)

He now sat straight in his chair, and stared at me as though I’d just produced a core bomb.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded, pointing in the direction of the desk drawer where my knife now lay. “I watched Ringer confiscate your arsenal myself!”

It suddenly came to me why Val was so upset, and the reason showed he hadn’t gotten very far with understanding me. Val had seen me facing the security sergeant and his stunner, but he hadn’t realized at the time that I was armed. My hesitation now had a completely different meaning for him, and he had to take into consideration the fact that I’d been tempted to use the knife on the sergeant. I smiled into his outrage, pleased that he was finally getting a better picture of what a Special Agent is all about.

“I’m a good Girl Scout,” I told Val, sitting down in my chair again. I’d had the knife and sheathe hidden in the emergency breathing equipment locker in my room. Ringer and Val had had no idea that it was there, of course. Agents develop various survival habits over the years, and the only way to keep them effective is to keep them to yourself. “Yes, a good Girl Scout,” I said comfortably. “‘Be prepared’ is the motto

... or is that Boy Scouts?”

An annoyed expression crossed Val’s face, but before he could pursue his annoyance Captain Lowell interrupted.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” Lowell put in smoothly, trying to keep a fight from starting. “I happen to have a bottle of high proof medicinal alcohol, Mr. Carter, and I wonder if you would care to sample it with me. I check on it every once in a while to make sure it hasn’t gone bad.”

Val chuckled over the way Lowell had offered his illegal high-proof, and then nodded agreement as he settled back in his chair again. Lowell grinned, brought out two glasses and a bottle marked “For medicinal use only” from somewhere in his desk, poured into the two glasses, then moved one of them toward Val. He took the second glass himself and raised it in salute as Val lifted his own glass, and I decided it was time to remind him I was there.

“What about me?” I asked, annoyed over being ignored. “Am I an orphan or something?”

Lowell had been just about to drink, but instead of lowering the glass he hesitated briefly, downed the shot fast, and only then brought his gaze back to me.

“I’m sorry,” he said in something like discomfort, setting the glass down in front of him. “Mr. Ringer stressed the fact that although you’re a Special Agent you’re to be considered a minor in every way possible, and to be perfectly frank I’m glad he did.

I have daughters your age, and I’d no more offer them a glass of this than I’d offer it to you. If you’d like a soft drink, Mr. Harris will be pleased to fetch it.”

His blue eyes weren’t quite as mild as they had been, and I sat very still for a minute to make sure I had a good grip on my temper. Male chauvinism I could understand, but I wasn’t used to the father syndrome.

“Just forget it,” I said at last, getting to my feet. I knew if I stayed there any longer, I’d explode for sure. “I’ll settle for a cup of coffee in my cabin. Mr. Harris, are you up to playing guide?”

The young officer nodded so eagerly that his head almost fell off, then he practically tripped over his own feet getting the cabin door open. I made it to the door in two strides and was about to step through, when Val’s voice stopped me. He spoke in his own language, what I considered trade or base language, since that was what was spoken in Dameron’s base.

“You’re lucky he doesn’t insist on making it milk,” he called after me, laughter in his tone. “In case you’re interested, this is the best I’ve had to drink since we arrived here. If I find some time later, I’ll come by to console you over your loss.”

He was deliberately trying to provoke me, and I didn’t know why – or care; all I knew was that he made it. I put my hand on the edge of the airtight door and looked back at him over my shoulder. He’d turned in his chair to follow me with his eyes, and his amusement was all too obvious.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the taster’s verdict,” I said in the same language he’d used. “As for the rest of it, allow me to point out that Ringer’s not here now to help you. You walk into my cabin, and you’ll walk out again singing soprano.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I’m sure he knew I wasn’t in a joking mood, but that didn’t keep the amusement out of his eyes or stop his quiet laughter. There weren’t many men around stupid enough to laugh at a Special Agent, and I could see that he hadn’t yet learned his lesson. He was asking for it again, but that wasn’t the place to oblige him. The navy tends to be regulation happy, and rarely appreciates an agent’s efforts toward making the universe a more enjoyable place to live in.

I continued on through the door into the now deserted corridor, and waited until Harris had stepped out as well and had closed the door behind himself. I must have been muttering under my breath, because Harris picked up on part of it and turned large brown eyes to me as we walked up the corridor.

“You mustn’t mind about all those regulations,” he comforted, looking as if he were dying to put his arm around my shoulders. “They’re all there for a good purpose, even if we don’t always understand what that purpose is. And you certainly don’t need a knife to protect yourself here. We’ll all keep you safe.”

The last thing I needed now, on top of Val’s needling, was to be told that a wet-behind-the-ears ensign was going to keep me safe. I’m normally not quite that touchy, but Harris’s “protective” expression had heated up some and was beginning to look aggressive.

“Thanks for the offer,” I told him as I glanced around the corridor, “but you don’t use a knife to protect yourself. You use it to get to someone who isn’t within arm’s reach, or to find out what you want to know from someone who doesn’t feel like talking, or you use it for two dozen other reasons. Not to protect yourself.”

There was a deep well of silence in reaction to that, and I glanced at Harris to see that he’d gone pale. The heat and aggressive look were gone like last year’s income, and he actually looked shaky. We still walked shoulder to shoulder down the corridor, but there was now a three inch gap between us that hadn’t been there earlier.

Considering my mood I should have been pleased with Harris’s reaction, but perverse can sometimes come out compounded. I discovered I was disgusted with myself for stooping to scaring children, and concentrated on the bulkheads and cabin doors we passed. I was more than willing not to say another word, but Harris was determined to show that he was Navy through and through: all guts and no regrets. Or at least that’s what some people like to believe.

“Uh, what language was that you and Agent Carter were speaking?” he asked, trying not to sound hesitant. “I don’t think I ever heard it before.”

I stopped short and closed my eyes in pain, knowing that it had been bound to happen sometime. Val had to open his big, flapping mouth, and I’d end up getting blamed for that, too. Then I turned and gave Harris an “official” stare.

“What language are you talking about?” I asked, no expression on my face or in my voice, and at least he wasn’t as innocent as he looked. He immediately went red, then began to stammer again.

“I – I didn’t mean to pry, of course,” he apologized, rolling his hands into fists at his sides. “I realize that agents do have their secrets.”

“They sure do,” I agreed, then began to walk again. “At the moment, the biggest secret to me is what I’m doing here in the first place. How much farther do we have to go?”

“Not far,” Harris said, almost in relief. “Just a few doors down on your left.” In another moment we’d reached the proper door, and Harris sidled past me to open it.

“If you’ll make yourself comfortable,” he said, “I’ll be back in a jiffy with your coffee.”

I thanked him and went on in. The cabin was small, but an officer must have had to give it up even though there was nothing but a compact, built-in bunk, one straight-backed chair bolted to the deck, and a desk. On the floor near the bunk was a footlocker, which turned out to have more cadet uniforms. Leave it to Ringer. I dropped the lid of the footlocker again, then went to the bunk to stretch out. When Harris came back with my coffee, I sent him off again for a carton of cigarettes.

Considering the way things had been going, it looked like a good bet I’d be chain smoking before this thing was over.

Captain Lowell himself came by to escort me to the evening meal, and walking into the officer’s mess was something of a surprise. Every face that turned in my direction was male, showing that the Swamp Fox had an all-male crew. Mixed crews were the norm in the Federation Navy, and as I took my seat to Lowell’s right I wondered what they’d been up to that an all-male crew had been necessary.

But I didn’t get to consider the question long because Lowell’s men were wolves in officer’s clothing, leaning across the table and one another just to get my attention for a minute. Lowell sat back and watched their antics with mild amusement, but Val, at the other end of the table with Harris for company, didn’t share his amusement.

My partner wasn’t even close enough to me for needling purposes, and he didn’t seem to care for the seating arrangements.

Just to take my mind off the typical navy food I decided to play Lady Butterfly to all those interesting men, laughing, and chatting, and sharing winks and smiles. It turned the meal into an absolute delight, the officers responding as though programmed, Val scowling at what he shoveled into his mouth … just beautiful.

When the dishes had been cleared away, we shifted location to the Officer’s Lounge.

Without a table in the way the navy really began maneuvers, but Lowell kept things in hand by suggesting it might be nice if they opened their wire library. Wires meant music and music meant dancing, so the suggestion brought more enthusiasm than groans.

The music was turned on, and as soon as I heard it I knew it proved that the navy wasn’t as far behind the rest of the Federation as many people thought. The music was a revival from Sol III’s past, a thing called rocknroll, and was the current rage all over the Federation. The words of the songs had been made to match modern language, but the translators swore the original meanings and phrases hadn’t been changed.

The music itself had been left exactly the same, and it really was something else. A reviewer had once quoted somebody from the time the music had originally been popular as saying that dancing to it could almost be called vertical sex. I wasn’t sure what the original steps had been like, but I knew what the modern ones were and couldn’t think of a better description.

The wolves took turns dancing with me, using a system of seniority that didn’t match their rank – and one I couldn’t crack – and even Captain Lowell took a turn. The Captain’s system was to walk over and announce that the next dance was his, a system everyone understood at once. The only ones I didn’t dance with were Val and Ensign Harris, they being engaged in sitting in a corner of the room out of the way.

Harris had tried to coax Val into conversation, but Val wasn’t even paying token attention to him. He sat sprawled in his chair, his arms folded across his chest, his face expressionless, his eyes constantly on me. I was curious as to what was going through his mind, but not curious enough to go over and ask him.

I happened to be very fond of rocknroll, and after two weeks in a hospital bed where I’d listened to it over and over again, I knew the selections fairly well. When I heard the opening bars to one song in particular, I looked over toward Val and gave him a wolfish grin. What he heard then was, “Got along without you before I met you, Gonna get along without you now,” and the message had no trouble making itself understood.

I laughed at the way Val’s expression darkened, and my current dancing partner joined in the amusement. He didn’t really know what the joke was, but he was obviously more than willing to laugh at the room’s only wallflower. A few minutes later Val caught my attention when he heard the words, “Hey, little devil, I’m gonna make an angel out of you!” and returned the wolfish grin. But it was his bad luck that the very next selection was, “That’ll Be The Day.” I laughed hard at that, then continued to enjoy the music.

Five standard days later we were off Tanderon, the planet which held the training facilities. I must have tried half a dozen dodges on Captain Lowell during the trip to get him to let me off on the way, but nothing had worked. He stayed his same pleasant self, and saw to it that I had no access to any of his officers but Ensign Harris unless it was mealtime.

And every time Val showed up at my cabin when I was alone, Ensign Harris showed up a minute later with a message from the captain for one of us. Harris was always diffident, nervous, awkward – and impossible to get rid of – but Val didn’t stop trying until we’d reached our destination.

Lowell appeared in the docking bay to return my knife when Val and I were ready to board the shuttle. The captain had shown up to make sure I understood that the shuttle was taking us directly down to the planet instead of to the orbital station.

Unlike Ringer, Lowell wasn’t taking any chances.

When the shuttle grounded the hatch was opened on the shuttle port of School 1, a not altogether inspiring sight. The same four SP’s escorted me to the permal at the foot of the exit ramp, then they turned and went back into the shuttle. On their way they passed Val, who was trying to look around as he made his way down the ramp.

The day was partly sunny and faintly cool, but the pleasant weather was ruined by the clouds of dust blowing all over the permal, coating everything and getting in everyone’s throat and clothing.

Even as I watched, robot trucks were moving slowly over the permal, spraying the dust clouds with a chemical that made them too heavy to blow around. The dust had to be resprayed every time a shuttle took off or landed, and the port perimeter had to be sprayed continuously to keep new dust from moving in on top of the old. I hadn’t been to Tanderon in a couple or three years, and I hadn’t completely remembered how unmissable it really was.