brothers in blood, except in the abstract. Sooner or later, it might happen . . . probably would. But you didn't force the pace.
The tiredness in those eyes faded for a moment. 'Hey, brother,' the marine said, 'nice place you have here.'
'We like it,' Gabriel said. 'You're welcome! Gabriel Connor.' 'Mil Wyens.'
'Where are you from when you're not from a ship?' 'Orion League. Damrak.'
'Hey, we're neighbors!' Gabriel grinned a little. Neighborhood was something Orions took seriously, even if it was spread over many light-years. 'I was born on Jaeger, and then we moved to Bluefall. My folks moved there on a colonization contract.' 'Long way back there,' Mil said. 'You must not see 'em often.'
'Not my dad, anyway. Not since I enlisted. Dad's still on Bluefall; he's retired. Mom died a few years ago,' Gabriel added, knowing from too much experience that if he didn't add it, someone would most likely ask. Better to get it over with. Mil's green eyes looked troubled. 'Hey, I'm sorry.'
The usual response, it's all right, it was a release, finally, came up. But for some reason Gabriel rejected it and just nodded. He said, 'You guys did a great job out there today.' 'We didn't do much of anything,' Mil said, sounding rather disappointed. 'You did, though,' Gabriel said. 'Waiting. Waiting's hard.'
He thought of the long hours down in the ice on Epsedra. The explosions overhead. And down in the crevasses, the slow drip and trickle of melting ice and the bright brittle sound when a bomb came down too close, shattering the ice into spears and shrapnel. In some ways, that seemed like another lifetime, ages ago. Some ways it seemed like a matter of minutes. And it could sneak up on you at other times when you were waiting, sometimes for something much more mundane and make itself a nuisance. Mil looked at him without much expression for a moment or so and then made half a smile and said, 'Had enough of it for today.'
'Let me get you something,' Gabriel said. 'How much 'something' do you want in it?' 'Normal dosage,' Mil said after a moment. 'No point in replacing palpitations with a headache.' Gabriel went off to fetch a couple of Pink Deaths. When he came back and handed one of them to Mil, the brown-eyed marine who had also drifted away in search of something liquid, now came back and leaned over Mil's shoulder. This was something of an accomplishment. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it, and she nearly spilled her drink down Mil's back in the process. 'Mil, what about you-know-who's comm code?' 'Huh?'
'You remember. You were going to give me his comm code. You said you wrote it down.' 'I did. Now where did I leave it?' Mil started going through his pockets.
'In the go-down boat,' said the brown-eyed marine to Gabriel, and the various others who were gathered around, 'he was sitting next to someone whom I would-someone in whom I am extremely interested. Tell me you didn't lose it,' she said, poking Mil meaningfully in the ribs, 'or you are going to have a bad weapons drill in a few days. Very bad.'
'No, I know I have it, it's-' Mil kept going through his pockets, coming up with the usual clutter: cardkey for his quarters, cardkey for the secure locker in his wardrobe, and a little dark something. But the darkness didn't last. It flashed dully as Gabriel looked at it. He glanced away, wondering if the room lighting had something to do with it, but it didn't. 'What is that?' he asked.
Mil was concentrating on going through his other pocket now, and looked up, slightly confused at being distracted from this. 'Oh, this? It's a luck stone. I got it on...' He frowned, bemused, until his eyebrows threatened to bang into each other. 'Dilemma, I think it was.'
'You couldn't have gotten it on Dilemma,' the brown-eyed marine said. 'We didn't get leave there.
Where is that comm code?'
'Not the last time. The time before last.'
'You didn't have this thing then,' the brown-eyed marine said. 'I didn't see it until we'd been to Tractate. Stop stalling.'
'There wasn't anything on Tractate. I got it on . . .' He stopped going through the other pocket, looking annoyed. 'Never mind.'
Curious, Gabriel watched the little smooth thing in Mil's hand. It was vaguely oval and more flat than spherical. It had an odd metallic sheen to it, almost like brushed metal. But the color was black, except when it glowed from inside, a little diffuse light like a coal being blown to life and fading, blown bright and fading again. 'How does it do that?' Gabriel said.
'I don't know,' said the man, turning the little object over in his hand. 'Batteries? No, I don't know at all; some guy in the daily market in the city we were in-I know,' he said triumphantly to the brown- haired marine. 'It was Dorring.'
'It wasn't Dorring. You weren't on Dorring. Where did you put it?'
'She's right,' said another she-marine who had come up behind Mil, a tall blonde woman. 'You were in medical stir for nearly a week that starfall. Remember the-'
'Ow,' said Mil, 'yeah, did you have to remind me?' He pocketed the 'luck piece' and turned around.
'What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had duty this shift.'
'I did,' she said, 'but some schedules have been changed. Better check yours.'
'Not before he gives me that comm code!'
That small knot of marines saluted Gabriel with their glasses and wandered off toward the food, leaving Gabriel looking after them while one of his floor mates, Mick Roscinzsky, came up beside him, carrying a couple of drinks. 'Here,' he said as he handed one to Gabriel. 'What is it?'
'How should I know? All I know is you were standing there with your two arms the same length.' Gabriel took an experimental sip of one of the drinks and made a face. 'Did it occur to anyone to put anything in this but alcohol?'
Mick looked shocked. 'Oh, this is one of the guest drinks. Sorry.' He took it away from Gabriel and gave him his own.
Gabriel sipped it, looking suspiciously at Mick. This drink was mostly fizzy water. 'Better,' he said, realizing that he had nearly been on the receiving end of a hoary old trick intended for Falada 's guests but not her own marine complement. 'Are they buying it?' ' 'Fraid so. I feel sorry for their tiny heads tomorrow.'
Gabriel grinned and wandered along behind Mick toward the bar. One of his other floor mates, Charles Redpath, was tending bar. He saw Dawn Steilin, a second lieutenant of his acquaintance, come moseying along and say to Charles, 'I'll have a Squadron Special.'
Charles reached down, chose a glass, filled it from one of the clear flasks nearby. Dawn took the glass from him, raised it, said, 'Up the Concord, boys!' and knocked it back in three long gulps. A few of the marines from Callirhoe looked at her in appreciation or astonishment. One of them leaned close to whiff at the glass, or possibly her breath-or possibly just because Dawn was pleasant to lean close to-then said in some surprise, 'Austrin gin?'
Dawn nodded, gave the guy a bright and completely un-addled look, and wandered away again. 'I'll have one of those,' said the marine who'd spoken to Dawn, and Charles, with a slight smile, handed him a glass the size of the one Dawn had downed.
Gabriel kept his own smile out of sight. The glass from which Dawn had been drinking, he knew, had been behind the bar, rim-down in a saucer of that Austrin gin. The flask from which it had been filled, though, the flask identical to the one from which Charles was now pouring, was full of plain old water. The present flask, though, was full of straight Austrin. Their guests would go away from this party with the belief that their hosts were supermen, at least insofar as their ability to hold their drink was involved. Gabriel turned away, half afraid he would lose control of that smile, and found Jake Ricel standing behind him, apparently watching the show at the bar. The dark-haired man was near Gabriel's height but less broad in the shoulders and leaner. His fair-skinned face was altogether unremarkable, one of those people who blended easily into any crowd without being noticed. Jake caught Gabriel's eye and glanced off to one side.
Now what the hell, Gabriel thought. Of all the times to- For this was his shipboard Intelligence contact, the man whom he had seen only once or twice, and that accidentally, in the last whole year. Jake was Star Force and worked up in Drive Engineering. From a marine's point of view, this would normally make him suspect regardless of any possible Intelligence connections, since people who could actually understand the gravity induction engine were assumed to be, as the saying went, 'a hundred and twenty- one hours from a nervous breakdown.' But he seemed otherwise overtly normal according to people Gabriel knew who had worked with him. Gabriel said, 'Oh, hi, Jake,' as casually as he could. 'Drink?'
