“I never thought a ten-by-ten room with an eight-foot ceiling would give me such a sense of freedom,” Cole was saying. “I’ve been cooped up on the
Teddy R
and other ships too damned long. Hell, I’ve spent half my life in places where I couldn’t extend my arm straight up above my head. I even paid the extra fee for a bath with real water instead of taking a Dryshower.” He looked up to see Forrice carrying a smoking blue drink over. “Hi, Four Eyes. Have a seat.”
“Thank you,” said the Molarian. “Perez and I have just been working with the other ships again.”
“And?”
“They’re starting to function as a unit. Remember, none of their captains was ever in the military. They’re all freelancers.” He paused. “This Perez is a good man. He ought to have a ship of his own.”
“He will. Give us a little time.”
“By the way, I spoke to Vladimir Sokolov just before I came over. They seem to be taking good care of him. He’s lucky they didn’t have to clone any of his internal organs. Nothing but major burns and a few broken bones. He’s optimistic about returning to duty soon.”
“He is?” said Cole. “He must have a six-and-a-half-foot ceiling and no windows. What else could make him want to go back to his cabin aboard the
Teddy R
?”
“I think your Captain is getting a serious case of cabin fever,” noted the Duke in amused tones, his human lips smiling in his metal face.
“It’s just nice to be able to stretch—arms, legs, everything—once in a while,” said Cole. He turned to Forrice. “I’ve hardly seen you the last three days. You can’t be spending
all
your time working with the ships and patronizing that whorehouse.”
“I found a game that appeals to the intricacies of the Molarian mind,” replied Forrice.
“Then it must be simpler than blackjack,” said Cole with a laugh.
“It is incredibly complex,” answered Forrice. “But the rewards once it is mastered are considerable.”
“Well, you’re sure not playing it here at Duke’s Place,” noted Cole. “Like I said, I haven’t seen you.”
“No, I’ve been playing at a casino called the Glowworm. I had to have Mr. Briggs explain the name to me.”
“The Glowworm?” said the Duke, sipping his drink through a straw as usual, so as not to let any of it stain his metal chin. “Then I know what you’re playing.
Stort
, right?”
“Yes,” said the Molarian. “Fascinating game. You play an opponent as well as the house, and there are cards, tokens, and four levels.”
“Of difficulty?”
“Of space.”
“Why not play it here?” asked Cole.
“I don’t run a
stort
game,” answered the Duke. “It only has a two percent break for the house.”
“Only two percent?” said Cole. “I don’t blame you. How much have you made so far, Four Eyes?”
“Actually, I’m down almost three thousand Far London pounds,” said the Molarian uncomfortably. “There are more subtleties than appear at first. But I’m mastering them. Another week and I’ll own the place.”
“Remind me someday to tell you what gets born every minute,” said Cole.
“I’ve been thinking, Steerforth . . .” began Copperfield.
“Don’t,” said Cole only half-jokingly. “Every time you do you almost get us killed.”
“I resent that!” said Copperfield. “I was going to suggest that we should invest some of our earnings.”
“David, by the time I pay all the crew members their share—and there are six ships’ worth of crew members these days—and refresh the nuclear piles and replace armaments and ammunition, there’s not a hell of a lot left to invest. Besides, we go into action a lot more often as mercenaries than we ever did in the Navy. It would be unrealistic to suggest that we’ll win every time, and since none of us has any family out here, who will we leave those investments to?”
“You’re brighter than that, Steerforth,” said Copperfield. “Stop thinking like some common crewman.”
“We don’t have any
common
crewmen,” said Cole irritably.
“You know what I mean,” persisted Copperfield. “Surely you can see the advantages of having an investment that will continue to grow.”
“It’s not
my
money, David. It’s
our
money. Ask Four Eyes if he’s willing to skip two trips to the whorehouse every shore leave so that he can have an extra hundred pounds ten years from now, after they’ve shot his balls off. Ask Val if she’ll be a teetotaler for five years now so she can hang one on in fifteen years. Ask Bull Pampas if he wants to make do with half the torpedoes we usually carry so he can afford better weapons in twelve years.” Cole paused. “I understand the principle of investing as well as you do, David, but it doesn’t apply to people who put their lives on the line every day, have no dependents, and have reasonable expectations of not seeing their old age.”
“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” said Forrice. “He’s such an optimist.”
“I’m not an optimist
or
a pessimist,” responded Cole. “I’m a realist. It dates back to the days when we were still Earthbound: today’s mortal enemy is tomorrow’s cherished friend, today’s cherished friend is tomorrow’s mortal enemy, and nothing ever changes. We’ve been at war with
someone
since the first caveman cracked another one over the head with his club. Better to live for the moment.”
“It depends on the moment,” said the Molarian. “I can think of a lot of moments I wouldn’t care to revisit.”
“None of them in the past two hours, I presume,” said Cole dryly. “Well, David, does that answer your question, such as it was?”
“You don’t mind if I invest
my
money, do you?” asked Copperfield.
“Why bother? We both know you’ve got millions stashed all over the Frontier from the days when you were the biggest fence in the business.”
“Half from my business, half from my investments.”
“What’ll you do with it if we go back into the Republic?”
“I’ll wish you Godspeed and use a tiny portion of it to pay for shipping funeral wreaths, my dear Steerforth,” answered Copperfield.
“No one’s going back to the Republic,” put in the Duke. “While you were gone, a Teroni ship managed to get through the Navy’s defenses, and destroyed four agricultural worlds.”
“Why bother?” asked David. “The average farm world has less than one hundred people on it. They’re worked by robots.”
“They each feed anywhere from five to ten worlds that can’t grow their own crops,” said Cole. He looked across the table at the Duke. “Let me guess. Word got out, and now the colonists are shooting down anything that moves.”
The Duke nodded. “According to my information, aggressivly programmed planetary defense systems have shot down seven Navy ships, two cargo ships, and a spaceliner.” He paused. “This is definitely
not
a good time to consider returning to the Republic.”
“We’re never going back,” said Cole firmly. “They shot all those other ships by accident. When they shoot us, it’ll be on purpose.”
“There’s nothing back there for us anyway,” added Forrice. “Every crew member of the
Teddy R
who left with us is wanted dead or alive. There’s a ten-million-credit reward for Wilson, three million for me, and an even bigger bounty on the ship itself.”
“Still, if you’ve heard any further news, I’d like to pass it on to the crew. Never going back doesn’t mean they’re not still interested in what goes on there.”
“You mean the war?” asked the Duke.
“Both sides want to kill us. No one gives a shit about the war. Give me some sports results, a copy of new holos we can stick in the ship’s library, touches of home.”
“I shall obtain what you want,” said the Duke.
“Don’t
you
miss your home world?” asked Forrice.
“Singapore Station
is
my home world now,” replied the Duke. “I haven’t been off it for close to thirty years, and I have no intention of ever leaving it again.”
“At least you
have
a home world, however artificial it is,” said the Molarian. “Ours is a century-old ship.”
“This is getting morbid,” said David. “What we need are some dancing girls.”
“Would they appeal to you?” asked the Duke curiously.
“I am a Victorian gentleman, sir,” replied David heatedly. “Of course they would. Do only platinum women appeal to you?”
“No offense intended,” said the Duke. “To change the subject, I am still being swindled over at the
jabob
table. Where is the redheaded giantess?”
Cole shrugged. “Beats me. She’s got her own ship now, so she’s not answerable to me until we take off again. But a guess is that she’s drinking or fighting not too far from here.”
“Why doesn’t she join us?”
“She’s probably afraid you’ll disturb her drinking by asking her to spot how people are cheating you,” answered Cole.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” intoned Copperfield.
“What are you talking about?” asked the Duke.
“Take a look,” said Copperfield, pointing to the entrance, where Val had just appeared.
Cole waved to her and she approached the table.
“Come have a drink with us, dear lady,” said Copperfield.
“Been drinking all day,” she replied, sitting down. Then: “Just a short one.”
“What can I get for you?” asked the table.
“The one I taught your bartender the other night,” said Val. “A Purple Flame.”
“That is not in my data bank,” said the table.
“Ask the barkeep. He knows how.”
“We have seventeen bartenders” was the reply. “Can you identify which one?”
“Human, male, maybe six feet tall, bald on top, gray on the sides, looked like he had a prosthetic left hand, two teeth missing on the top right. Probably in his fifties.”
“Damn, that’s good!” muttered Forrice.
“That would be Gray Max, true name Archibald Token. He is currently off-duty and unavailable.”
“All right,” said Val. “Start with three ounces of Crystalblue rye, then add an ounce of Benitaris III sillywater, an ounce of New Barbados rum, a pinch of bitters, and an ounce of any citrus from Lagi nappe II. Now make one for me and put it in your memory.”
“That’s a
short
one?” said Cole, wondering for the hundredth time how she kept her fabulous figure.
“Straight or on the rocks?” asked the table.
“Straight.”
The drink appeared thirty seconds later.
“You’ve got to train your hired help better,” Val told the Platinum Duke. “Imagine leaving without filing all that away first! A person could get damned thirsty waiting for Gray Max to tell the bar computer what goes into a Purple Flame.”
“Damned good thing the bar computer can’t give you its opinion of that thing,” offered Cole.
“You should try one before you knock it,” said Val.
“I value my stomach too much,” answered Cole.
“I’ll be glad when Sokolov gets out of hospital,” said Val. “He and Briggs are my drinking buddies.
Were
my drinking buddies,” she corrected, “before I moved to the
Red Sphinx
.”
“I’m sure you can find more drinking buddies on Singapore Station than you can shake a stick at,” said Cole. He noticed a slight swelling around her left eye. “Though it looks like you’ve been shaking a stick at some of them already, and one of them shook back.”
She shook her head. “That was one of the androids in the whorehouse,” she said with no show of self-consciousness or embarrassment. “He got a little enthused.” She paused and looked thoughtfully at her bruised knuckles. “I’m sure they’ll have him functional in two or three days.”
“If the Republic had you in the Navy they’d have won the war ten years ago,” said Copperfield admiringly.
“You wouldn’t like it,” said Val.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you, dear lady.”
“If they won the war ten years ago, they’d have taken over Singapore Station by now. Then where would you go to relax and hunt up business?”
“She’s got a point,” agreed the Duke. “Men have always hungered for new worlds. I’m sure if they didn’t have the Teroni Federation shooting at them they’d hunger for mine.”
“They’ve got their hands full right where they are,” said Cole.
“Who gives a damn about them?” said Val. “Let’s talk some business. I’m all refreshed and ready to go back out again.”
“Out of here?” asked Copperfield, confused.
“Out into the Frontier,” she replied. “Have we got another job lined up yet?”
“We haven’t even discussed it,” said Cole. “I thought everyone could use a little shore leave.”
“We’ve
had
a little shore leave,” said Val decisively. “Time to head out again.”