recreation fund,' Blair went on as if Marshall hadn't spoken. Usually, drinks were paid for by the individual officers and crewmen, with their cost charged against shipboard pay accounts. But this was a special occasion — the first triumph of Victory's new tour of duty. 'So enjoy yourselves while you can. You'll be back on the flight line soon enough!'
That brought cheers from everyone. Most of the flight wing's personnel were in the rec room for the party, except for pilots and technicians who had duty tonight or first thing in the morning. There were also a fair number of people from other carrier departments. Blair saw Lieutenant Rollins at the bar, deep in conversation with a pretty redhead from Blue Squadron.
He looked around the room again and noticed a woman sitting alone at one of the tables, her eyes resting on him with a coldly intense expression. He recognized her from the Wing's personnel files: Lieutenant Laurel Buckley (callsign Cobra), a member of Gold Squadron. That was all he knew about her since her family and background records were sketchy. She consistently received high marks in Colonel Dulbrunin's quarterly evaluations in her file, but beyond that she was a mystery.
The door opened behind Blair. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Ralgha, receiving a slight bow in response before the Kilrathi moved on toward the bar.
'Hey, Hobbes,' a new voice cut over the chatter that filled the room. 'How about going a round with me, huh? Bet you a week's pay on one hand.'
The Kilrathi shook his head gravely. 'Thank you, no,' he said, turning to the bartender to order a drink.
Blair studied the man who had hailed his friend. He was seated nearby, a Chinese flight lieutenant who looked about thirty standard years old until you saw the age in his eyes. The man caught Blair's look and flashed him a lazy grin, holding up a deck of cards in one hand.
'What about you, Colonel?' he asked, riffling the cards expertly. 'Want to play a hand? Since you're the new boy in town, I'll let you call the game.'
'I think I'll keep my money if it's all the same to you,' Blair said, sitting down. The man was another pilot from Gold Squadron, and from all appearances didn't have any problem serving with Hobbes. That recommended him to Blair right away. 'I learned a long, long time ago never to play cards with the shipboard shark.'
'Well, it's a free Confed.' The lieutenant put down the cards and stuck out a hand. 'I'm Vagabond. A belated welcome aboard's in order, I guess. Or would condolences for your little scrap this morning be more appropriate?'
'Not much for protocol, are you?' Blair said, taking the proffered hand in his. 'Do you always go by your callsign or do you just have something against the name Winston Chang?'
He shrugged. 'Formalities tend to be forgotten when you spend most of your time just trying to survive, wouldn't you say?' He smiled, lifted his drink, and took a sip. 'What little spare time we have should not be wasted on practicing salutes and mastering the intricacies of military make-work.'
Blair looked him over, liking the man despite Chang's irreverent manner, or maybe because of it. 'With that attitude, I'm surprised you've been able to adapt to the military life at all.'
Vagabond shrugged again. 'I've always felt that the military should learn how to adapt to me, Colonel,' he said with another grin. 'After all, I'm a genuine high-flying hero type, with pilot's wings and everything!'
Blair was about to make a sarcastic reply when his attention was drawn to Hobbes. The Kilrathi had finished his drink in silence and turned from the bar, heading for the door again, probably uncomfortable in the crowd of humans. Ralgha, a Kilrathi noble before his defection, never relinquished his aversion to large groups and noisy surroundings, especially when they involved non-Kilrathi gatherings. It was one of the reasons people found him so aloof and seemingly unfriendly, but it was nearly as much a matter of carnivore instinct as of aristocratic breeding.
As he approached the exit he brushed against the woman Blair had seen watching him earlier, Lieutenant Buckley. She reached the door just before Hobbes and stopped to listen to someone. Hobbes barely touched her, but she spun quickly to confront him with an angry expression which marred her attractive features. 'Don't touch me!' she grated. 'Don't ever touch me, you goddamned furball!'
Ralgha recoiled from her as if stricken, started to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Instead he gave one of his bows and circled cautiously around her. She glared at him until the door closed behind him.
'Excuse me, Lieutenant,' Blair said, suppressing the anger welling inside him. 'I have . . . a matter that needs to be attended.'
Chang looked from Blair to Buckley and back again, his smile gone. 'I understand,' he said with a nod. 'But I hope you'll keep something in mind, Colonel. We've got a lot of good people on this ship. Even the ones who may not fit in with your idea of . . . decorum.'
Blair stood up and crossed to the door. Buckley was still standing nearby, flushed and angry. He took her elbow and pointed toward the door. 'Time we had a little talk, Lieutenant,' he said quietly. 'Outside.'
She let him lead her into the corridor. When the door closed and the party sounds were no longer heard, they faced each other for a long moment in silence.
'Want to tell me what that little outburst was all about, Lieutenant?' Blair asked.
Buckley fixed him with an angry stare. 'Ain't much to say, Colonel,' she said, managing to make the rank sound more like a swear word. 'You insisted on flying with it, and even after it let you down you'll probably still take its part. Doesn't leave much scope for conversation, does it?'
'Lieutenant Colonel Ralgha nar Hhallas is a superior officer, Lieutenant,' Blair said sharply. 'You will refer to him with respect. I will not have one of my officers treating another member of the wing with such blatant bigotry and hatred. Some day you might have to fly on his wing, and when that happens . . .'
'That won't happen, Colonel,' she said stiffly. 'I can't fly with . . . him, and if you order it, I will resign my commission on the spot. That's all there is to it.'
'I should take you up on that resignation right now, Lieutenant,' Blair said. 'But you're a good pilot, and we need all the good pilots we can get. I'd rather work this thing out. If you'd just give Hobbes a chance —'
'You don't want me flying with him, sir,' she said. 'Because I won't defend him in a fight. Better we go our separate ways . . . one way or another.'
'Why? What's he ever done to you?'
'He's Kilrathi,' she said harshly. 'That's enough. And there's nothing you can do to change the way I feel.'
'I . . . see.' Blair studied her face. It was a bad idea to let something like this simmer inside the wing, but he wasn't willing to force a confrontation. Not yet, at least. 'I'll try to keep the two of you apart for the moment, Lieutenant, but I expect you to behave like a Confed officer and not a spoiled brat. Do you understand me?'
'I wasn't asking for special favors, sir,' she said, shrugging. 'Just thought you should know how things stand.'
'Just so you know where you stand, Lieutenant,' he said softly. 'If I have to pick between the two of you, I'll pick Hobbes every time. I'd trust him with my life.'
She gave him a chilly smile. 'That, Colonel, is your mistake to make.'
CHAPTER V
The rec room was much quieter tonight than the night of the party and considerably less crowded. Blair finished another long shift of poring over reports and requisitions. He decided that a quick drink and a few moments of simply sitting alone, perhaps watching the stars through the compartment's viewport, would help him get over the feeling of confinement and constriction which plagued him more and more lately. As he walked briskly through
