VII
“Take off your war bonnet and make yourself comfortable,” said Colonel Harris hospitably.
Blick grunted assent. “This thing is sort of heavy,” he said. “I think I’ll change uniform regulations while I’m at it.”
“There was something you wanted to tell me?” suggested the colonel.
“Yeah,” said Blick. “I figure that you figure the I.G.’s going to bail you out of this. Right?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“I would,” said Blick. “I was up snoopin’ around the armory last week. There was something there that started me doing some heavy thinking. Do you know what it was?”
“I can guess,” said the colonel.
“As I looked at it, it suddenly occurred to me what a happy coincidence it is that the Inspector General always arrives just when you happen to need him.”
“It is odd, come to think of it.”
“Something else occurred to me, too. I got to thinking that if I were CO. and I wanted to keep the troops whipped into line, the easiest way to do it would be to have a visible symbol of Imperial Headquarters appear in person once in a while.”
“That makes sense,” admitted Harris, “especially since the chaplain has started preaching that Imperial Headquarters is where good marines go when they die—
“Just the way you did. I’d take one of the old battle suits, wait until it was good and dark, and then slip out the back way and climb up six or seven thousand feet. Then I’d switch on my landing lights and drift slowly down to the parade field to review the troops.” Blick grinned triumphantly.
“It might work,” admitted Colonel Harris, “but I was under the impression that those rigs were so heavy that a man couldn’t even walk in one, let alone fly.”
Blick grinned triumphantly. “Not if the suit was powered. If a man were to go up into the tower of the arsenal and pick the lock of the little door labled ‘Danger! Absolutely No Admittance,’ he might find a whole stack of shiny little cubes that look suspiciously like the illustrations of power packs in the tech manuals.”
“That he might,” agreed the colonel.
Blick shifted back in his chair. “Aren’t worried, are you?”
Colonel Harris shook his head. “I was for a moment when I thought you’d told the rest of the staff, but I’m not now.”
“You should be! When the I.G. arrives this time, I’m going to be inside that suit. There’s going to be a new order around here, and he’s just what I need to put the stamp of approval on it. When the Inspector General talks, nobody questions!”
He looked at Harris expectantly, waiting for a look of consternation to sweep across his face. The colonel just laughed.
“Blick,” he said, “you’re in for a big surprise!”
“What do you mean?” said the other suspiciously.
“Simply that I know you better than you know yourself. You wouldn’t be executive officer if I didn’t. You know, Blick, I’ve got a hunch that the battalion is going to change the man more than the man is going to change the battalion. And now if you’ll excuse me—” He started toward the door. Blick moved to intercept him.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” chuckled the colonel, “I can find my own way to the cell block.” There was a broad grin on his face. “Besides, you’ve got work to do.”
There was a look of bewilderment in Blick’s face as the erect figure went out the door. “I don’t get it,” he said to himself. “I just don’t get it!”
VIII
Flight Officer Ozaki was unhappy. Trouble had started two hours after he lifted his battered scout off War Base Three and showed no signs of letting up. He sat glumly at his controls and enumerated his woes. First there was the matter of the air conditioner which had acquired an odd little hum and discharged into the cabin oxygen redolent with the rich, ripe odor of rotting fish. Secondly, something had happened to the complex insides of his food synthesizer and no matter what buttons he punched, all that emerged from the ejector were quivering slabs of undercooked protein base smeared with a raspberry-flavored goo.
Not last, but worst of all, the ship’s fuel converter was rapidly becoming more erratic. Instead of a slow, steady feeding of the plu-tonite ribbon into the combustion chamber, there were moments when the mechanism would falter and then leap ahead. The resulting sudden injection of several square millimicrons of tape would send a sudden tremendous flare of energy spouting out through the rear jets. The pulse only lasted for a fraction of a second, but the sudden application of several G’s meant a momentary blackout and, unless he was strapped carefully into the pilot seat, several new bruises to add to the old.
What made Ozaki the unhappiest was that there was nothing he could do about it. Pilots who wanted to stay alive just didn’t tinker with the mechanism of their ships.
Glumly he pulled out another red-bordered IMMEDIATE MAINTENANCE card from the rack and began to fill it in.
“Kitchen mechanics,” he muttered. “Couldn’t do a decent repair job if they wanted to—and most of the time they don’t. I’d like to see one of them three days out on a scout sweep with a toilet that won’t flush!”
IX
It was a roomy cell as cells go but Kurt wasn’t happy there. His continual striding up and down was making Colonel Harris nervous.
“Relax, son,” he said gently, “you’ll just wear yourself out.”
Kurt turned to face the colonel who was stretched out comfortably on his cot. “Sir,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “we’ve got to break out of here.”
“What for?” asked Harris. “This is the first decent rest I’ve had in years.”
“You aren’t going to let Blick get away with this?” demanded Kurt in a shocked voice.
“Why not?” said the colonel. “He’s the exec, isn’t he? If something happened to me, he’d have to take over command anyway. He’s just going through the impatient stage, that’s all. A few days behind my desk will settle him down. In two weeks he’ll be so sick of the job he’ll be down on his knees begging me to take over again.”
Kurt decided to try a new tack. “But, sir, he’s going to shut down the Tech Schools!”
“A little vacation won’t hurt the kids,” said the colonel indulgently.
“After a week or so the wives will get so sick of having them underfoot all day that they’ll turn the heat on him. Blick has six kids himself, and I’ve a hunch his wife won’t be any happier than the rest. She’s a very determined woman, Kurt, a very determined woman!”
Kurt had a feeling he was getting no place rapidly. “Please, sir,” he said earnestly, “I’ve got a plan.”
“Yes?”
“Just before the guard makes his evening check-in, stretch out on the bed and start moaning. I’ll yell that
