cover his embarrassment over his slip in memory. “We’ve been in the dill together more than once, and even when I was too scared to use my sidearm, you’d be scanning away with your camera.”
“Ha ha, listen to the captain, folks.” Freddy’s voice was smooth, his words practiced. “I hope my boss is tuned in. But seriously, Captain Mauser, what do you think the chances of Vacuum Tube Transport are in this fracas?”
Mauser looked earnestly into the camera lens. “The best, of course, or I wouldn’t have signed up with Baron Haer. Justice triumphs, Freddy, and anybody who is familiar with the issues in this fracas knows that Baron Haer is on the side of true right.”
Freddy said, holding any sarcasm he might have felt, “What would you say the issues were, Captain?”
“The basic right of free enterprise to compete. Hovercraft has held a near monopoly on transport to Fairbanks. Vacuum Tube Transport wishes to lower costs and bring the consumers of Fairbanks better service through running a vacuum tube to that area. What could be more in keeping with the traditions of the West-world?” He paused, wondering whether the fans would even consider the issues. “Although Continental Hovercraft stands in the way of free enterprise in this dispute, it is they who have demanded of the Category Military Department a trial by arms. On the face of it, justice is on the side of Baron Haer.”
Freddy Soligen addressed the camera. “Well, all you good people of the telly world, that’s an able summation the captain has made, but it certainly doesn’t jibe with what Baron Zwerdling said this morning, does it? However, as the captain says, justice will triumph, and we’ll see what the field of combat will have to offer. Thank you very much, Captain Mauser. All of us, all of us tuned in today, hope that you personally will run into no dill in this fracas.”
“Thanks, Freddy. Thanks all,” Mauser said into the camera before turning away. He wasn’t particularly keen about this part of the job, but you couldn’t underrate the importance of pleasing the buffs. In the long run your career was aided by your popularity—and that meant your chances for promotion both in military rank and in caste, since the two went hand in hand. The fans took you up, boosted you, idolized you, even worshiped you if you really made it. He, Joe Mauser, was only a minor celebrity, and as such appreciated the chance to be interviewed by such a popular reporter as Freddy Soligen.
Even as he turned, he spotted the men with whom he’d had his spat earlier. The little fellow was still to the fore. Evidently the others had decided the one place extra that he represented wasn’t worth the trouble he’d put in their way to defend it.
On an impulse he stepped up to the small man, who grinned in recognition. The grin was a revelation of an inner warmth beyond average in a world which had lost much of its human warmth.
Mauser said, “Like a job, soldier?”
“Name’s Max. Max Mainz. Sure I want a job. That’s why I’m in this everlasting line.”
“First fracas for you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I had basic training in school.”
“What do you weigh, Max?”
Max’s face soured. “About one twenty.”
“Did you check out on semaphore in school?”
“Well, sure. I’m Category Food, Sub-division Cooking, Branch Chef, but like I say, I took basic military training like most everybody else.”
“I’m Captain Joe Mauser. How’d you like to be my batman?”
Max screwed up his not overly handsome face. “Gee, I don’t know. I kinda joined up to see some action. Get into the dill. You know what I mean.”
Mauser said dryly, “See here, Mainz, you’ll probably find more pickled situations next to me than you’ll want—and you’ll come out alive, or at least have a better chance of it than if you go in as infantry.”
The recruiting sergeant looked up from the desk. “Son, take a good opportunity when it drops in your lap. The captain is one of the best in the field. You’ll learn more, get better chances for promotion, if you stick with him.”
Mauser couldn’t remember having run into the sergeant before, but he said, “Thanks, Sergeant.”
Evidently realizing Joe didn’t recognize him, the other said, “We were together on the Chihuahua Reservation in the jurisdictional fracas between the United Mine Workers and the Teamsters, sir.”
It had been almost fifteen years ago. About all that Joe Mauser remembered of that fracas was the abnormal number of casualties they’d taken. His side had lost, but from this distance in time Mauser couldn’t even remember what force he’d been with. But now he said, “That’s right. I thought I recognized you, Sergeant.”
“It was my first fracas, sir.” The sergeant returned to a businesslike manner. “If you want me to hustle this lad through, Captain—”
“Please do.” Mauser turned back to Max. “I’m not sure where my billet will be. When you’re through all this, locate the officer’s mess and wait there for me.”
“Well, OK,” Max said doubtfully, still scowling.
“That’s ‘sir’,” the sergeant added ominously. “If you’ve had basic, surely you know how to address an officer?”
“Well, yes sir,” Max said hurriedly.
Mauser began to turn away, but then spotted the man immediately behind Max Mainz. He was the one with whom he had tangled earlier, the one with previous combat experience. He pointed the man out to the sergeant. “You’d better give this lad at least temporary rank of corporal. He’s a veteran and we’re short of veterans.”
The sergeant said, “Yes, sir. We sure are. Step up here, lad.” Mauser’s former foe looked properly thankful.
* * * *
Mauser finished with his own red tape and headed for the street to locate a military tailor who could do him up a set of the Haer kilts and fill his other dress requirements.
As he went, he wondered vaguely just how many different uniforms he had worn over the years. In a career as long as his own one could take, from time to time, semi-permanent positions with bodyguard services, company police, and the permanent combat troops of this corporation or that. Such positions held an element of security, but if you were ambitious you signed up for the fracases and that meant into a uniform and out of it again in as short a period as a couple of weeks.
At the door he tried to move aside, but was too slow for the quick-moving young woman who caromed off him. He caught her arm to prevent her from stumbling. She looked at him with less than thanks.
Joe took the blame for the collision. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you, Miss.”
“Obviously,” she said coldly. Her eyes went up and down him, and for a moment he wondered where he had seen her before. Somewhere, he was sure.
She was dressed as they dress who have never considered cost, and she had an elusive beauty which would have been even the more had her face not projected quite such a serious outlook. Her features were more delicate than those to which he was usually attracted, her lips less
