to work fast.'
He slumped into a chair, eyes bulging in silence as I gently tickled the lock until the terminal came to life.
'Menu, menu,' I muttered as I hammered away on the keys.
It all went a lot smoother and faster than I had hoped. Whoever had written the software had apparently expected it to be accessed by morons. Maybe he was right. In any case I was led by the hand through the menus right to the current shipping orders.
'Here we are, leaving at noon today, a few minutes from now. Fort Abomeno. Your full name and serial number, Morton, quickly,'
I had my own dogtags spread out as I punched in all the requested information. A bell pinged and a sheet of paper slipped out of the printer.
'Wonderful!' I said, smiling and letting some tension out of my muscles: I passed it over to him. 'We're safe for the moment since we have just left for Fort Abomeno.'
'But … we're still here.'
'Only in the flesh, my boy. For the record, and records are all that count to the military, we have shipped out, Now we make the flesh inviolate.' I read through the shipping orders, checked off two names, then turned back to the terminal and entered data with some urgency. We had to be long gone before the corporal returned. The printer whiffled gently anemone sheet slipped out, then another. I grabbed them up, relocked the terminal, and waved Morton to his feet.
'Here we go. Out the back door and I'll tell you what is happening as soon as we are clear of this building.' Someone was coming up the stairs, a corporal, and my heart gave a little hip-hop before I saw that it wasn't the corporal in question. Then it was down the hall to the front door and yes, there was Corporal Gamin coming up the stairs with a very nasty cut to his jib!
'Sharp right, recruit!' I ordered and we turned into the first doorway with military precision. A lieutenant was combing his hair in front of a mirror there. Her hair I realized when she turned about and glared at me.
'What kind of cagal-head are you, corporal? Or doesn't the sign on the other side of this door read female personnel only?'
'Sorry, sir, Ma'am, dark in the hall. Eye trouble. You, recruit, why didn't you read the sign correctly? Get the cagal out of here and march straight to the MPs.' I pushed Morton out ahead of me and closed the door. The hall ahead was empty.
'Let's go! Quick as we can without attracting attention.' Out the door and down the steps and around the corner and another corner and the pace was beginning to tell, I leaned against a wall and felt the sweat run down my face and drip from my nose. I wiped it with the sheaf of papers I still carried - then held up the two new sheets of orders and smiled; Morton gaped. 'Freedom and survival,' I chortled. 'Shipping orders, or rather cancellation of shipping orders. We are safe at last.'
'I haven't the slightest idea of what you are talking about.'
'Sorry. Let me explain. As far as the military is concerned we are no longer at this base but have been shipped to Fort Abomeno. They will search for us there, but we will be hard to find. In order to keep the body count correct two soldiers who are in that shipment, still physically in that shipment, have been removed on paper. These are their orders, corporal, I thought a bit more rank wouldn't hurt. I am a sergeant now as you can see. We will occupy their quarters, eat their food, draw their pay. It will be weeks, perhaps months, before the error is discovered. By which time we will be long gone. Now - shall we begin our new careers as non-commissioned officers?'
'Urgle,' he said dimly and his eyes shut and he would have slumped to the ground if I had not held him erect against the wall. I nodded agreement.
'I feel somewhat the same way myself. It really has been one of those days.'
Chapter 11
Fatigue was of no importance, thirst equally so - although both were present and sending imperative messages. To be ignored. Rank has its privileges and we were not going to enjoy ours until we assumed the trappings. I shook Morton until his eyes opened and he blinked dully at me.
'One last effort, Mort. We are going to the PX, about whose heady joys we have heard, and there we will spend some money. When that has been done we will be free spirits and will eat and drink and relax. Are you ready?'
'No. I'm beat, shagged, dead. I cannot move. You go on. I can't make it…'
'Then I'll just have to turn you over to Sergeant Klutz who has just arrived and is standing right behind you.'.
He sprang into the air with a shriek of agony, feet already running before he hit the ground. I held on to him.
'Sorry about that. No Klutz here. A ruse to get your adrenaline flowing. Let's go.'
We went. Quickly before this burst of energy faded. It got him as far as the post exchange where I leaned him against the wall near the cashier and handed him my sheaf of papers.
'Stand there, recruit, and do not move and do not let go of those papers or I will skin you alive or worse.'
, I slammed the papers into his limp hands and whispered, 'What size jacket do you take?' After much blinking on his part, and reiteration on mine, I extracted the needed information.
I made my purchases from a bored clerk, added some stripes and a tube of superglue, paid for everything with some of Gow's money, thank you corporal, and led Morton farther into the reaches of the PX. To the latrine, empty this time of day.
'We'll use the booth one at a time,' I said. 'We don't want anyone making improper conclusions. Take off those fatigues and slip into this uniform. Move it.' While he changed I glued the new sergeant's stripes over the corporal's on my sleeves. When Morton had flushed and emerged I straightened his necktie and glued his promotion to his sleeve. His fatigues went into the rubbish, along with the sheaf of papers, and we went into the noncoms' bar.
'Beer - or something stronger?' I asked. 'I don't drink.'
'You do now. And curse. You're in the army. Sit there and sneer like a corporal and I'll be right back.' I ordered two double neutral grain spirits and some beers, dumped the ethyl alcohol into the beer, sipped it to make sure it had not gone off, then went back to our table. Morton drank as ordered, widened his eyes, gasped, then drank again. Color returned to his cheeks as I drained half of my glass and sighed happily.
'I don't know how to thank you, what to say…'
'Then say nothing. Drink up. What I did was to save my own hide and you just came along for the ride.'
'Who are you, Jak? How do you know how to do those things you did?'
'Would you believe me if I said I was a spy sent here to seek out the military secrets?'
'Yes.'
'Well I'm not. I'm just a draftee like yourself. Though I will have to admit that I come from a lot further away than Pensildelphia. That's it, drain the glass, you're learning fast. I'll get a couple more drinks and some food. I saw they had catwiches. I'll get a couple of those.' Food and drink helped, as did the stripes on our arms. Morton tore into his rations. I ate more slowly, finding myself already thinking about the next step. Cigars followed, Gow's wallet was bottomless, and more drink.
'This is really great, Jak, really great. You're really great, really great.'
'Sleep.' I said as his eyes unfocused and his head hit the table with a thump. 'You will awake a new man.' I sipped lightly at my own drink for I wanted only the stimulation of the alcohol and not the oblivion. The club was almost empty, only one other table occupied, the noncom there just as asleep as Morton. Probably as drunk as well. The simple pleasures of military life. I sipped and thought of my previous military career on Spiovente, and of The Bishop, now dead, and of the man who was responsible for his death.
'I haven't forgotten you. Captain Garth, not at all.' I said softly to myself. The bartender polished a glass and yawned. Well acquainted with customers who talked to themselves and drank themselves into extinction. 'For the last few days it has been survival only. Now I pick up your trail. We're in the same army, on the same base.' I felt
