Luck was with Pat. There were no priests in thesanctuary, no warning sensors. Strict, theocratically applied discipline had, for a thousand years,made good citizens of the Dorchlunters. There wasno need to set guards, except for ceremony, asguards were used in front of the temple. His luckcontinued as he climbed onto the dais. The statueof the fleet admiral was life-size, and was within ahalf inch of Pat's height. Torga Bluntz had been aman of personal discipline, too, for, although hisface, painted in lifelike color, showed the wrinklesof age, he had kept himself in condition.
The uniform in which the statue was dressedhad, evidently, been renewed in the recent past.Although the material was the homespun of Dorchlunt, the insignia were of ancient metal. Thecoat and high-necked shirt came off the statueeasily. The trousers were another matter. The statuewas carved from native stone. There was no wayto slip the trousers off the statue's feet. However, abit of study showed Pat how the trousers had beenput on. The back seams of the legs and pants of thetrousers were basted loosely together. Pat took hisfingernail trimmer and cut the threads, and then,the uniform folded neatly, made his way back totheSkimmer.
A bachelor is forced to develop some odd skills.Pat could handle an automatic hand-held stitcher.The seams may not have been exactly straightwhen he finished, but the trousers were in onepiece, the legs sewn into tubes, and the flat of the seat closed, and they fit him fairly well. The high-necked shirt was a bit tight, but the coat fit comfortably. The ornate gold-braided cap fit after he put some folds of cloth at the back to make it a bitsmaller. He examined himself in the mirror in hiscabin and was satisfied.
He locked the uniform in his personal locker andwent to sleep. The final parade of the gunners was scheduled for midday. He wouldn't have any opportunity to talk to Gorben, or any of the Dorchlunter gunners, until after the dress review. Hedidn't know exactly how he'd accomplish itafter the review, other than by going into the villages toseek Gorben out. He'd have to find an excuse forthat, without arousing Corinne's suspicions. He hoped that she'd be busy with whatever last-minutepreparations a woman makes before going out to conquer a galaxy.
He was awakened by the ship's communicator.It sent a persistent melodic summons which, thetimer told him, had been sounding for almost halfa minute. He'd have to be a bit more alert thanthat if he ever got back into space.
The Brenden was on. "I thought maybe I'd calledthe wrong place," Brenden said with a chuckle. "Iwas just going to call Cory's apartment."
"I was sleeping in," Pat said.
"Pat, have Cory find you a uniform. You two aregoing to have to review the troops today. I justhad a ship come in from home, and there are somedetails I have to handle. I should be finished byearly evening. We'll all get together for a celebration before the big day."
He was gone. When he was dealing with business, the Brenden could be curt.
Pat thought about that. It was good that Brendenwasn't going to be planetside. Now all he'd haveto do was sneak away from Corinne.
The review would begin in two hours. Pat had aquick snack for breakfast, then went into the temple. The priests were going about their duties, whatever they were, calmly. Apparently they had not discovered that the lock on the door of the admiral's sanctuary had been cut open and then fused back together.
He was near the corridor which led to the practice range for gunners. He wondered if any of themwere there. Probably not, but he went through theworking area, where priests were still trying to dowonders like make a thorn vine bear potatoes. Thepractice range was dark and inactive. On the wayback through the work area he saw a priest packaging the tablets he recognized as the food supplements and preventive medicine given to the Dorchlunters. He paused to watch a moment.
"Good morning, sir," the priest said. He was oneof the oldest Dorchlunters Pat had seen, perhapsover fifty.
"How's it going?" Pat asked.
"Well, well. The young men must have their prayer tablets when they soar away to glory."
"And is it your job to dispense the prayertablets?"
"I have the honor to be the temple healer," thepriest said.
A sneaky idea came to Pat. That the idea wasnot original to him made for a certain sense ofjustice.
"Healer," he said, "you are fortunately met." The Old Earth language made for a formality of phrase. "As
it happens, I have difficulty sleeping. Perhapsyou have something to help?"
"My pleasure, sir," the healer said. He walked toa cabinet and came back with a small box. "Thereis a measuring spoon inside, sir. For a man ofyour size and weight, I recommend one scoop. Ifthat is not
enough, try two, and by no meansshould you ever ingest more than five scoops inone night."
"Is the powder quick-acting?"
"Very quick-acting sir." He chuckled. "It mightbe best if you are prepared for bed before you takethe
powder."
Corinne was waiting for him. She was already inuniform, although there was still plenty of time towait before going to the parade grounds. Pat suggested that there was, indeed, time for a littletaste of
something to give them energy for the longceremony. He went to the bar and mixed.
"I'd just as soon call off the review," she said.
"No, I think the gunners are looking forward toit," he said.
"Yes, I'm sure you're right." She seemed slightlyagitated. When he remarked on it she said, "I was
thinking of what happened yesterday. You're right,Pat, they won't give up easily."
"We'll come through all right," he said. "Drinkup. It'll make you feel better."
"I am so sleepy all of a sudden," she said, notten minutes later, as she cuddled in his arms on thesofa. He
smoothed her glorious auburn hair.
"Take a little nap," he said. "I'll wake you whenit's time."
"Don't know why I'm so . . ." she said. Then,after a long pause, she tried to say "sleepy," managed only
"sleeee . .."
He carried her to her bed, covered her with alight sheet, looked down into that beautiful facewhich seemed so innocent. "I hope it won't giveyou as bad a hangover as I had the first time," he said.
He experimented with trying to wake her. Nothing, not even lifting her and shaking her, would dothe job. He had just under thirty minutes before the first of the troops would begin to form on theparade ground. He went back to theSkimmer tomake his preparations, walked around the temple,wearing a long greatcoat which was much too warm for the climate, took his place on the review stand,standing quite alone and straight, the greatcoatcovering the uniform of Fleet Admiral Torga Bluntz. He would not have to find a way to sneak into thevillages to talk with Gorben and a few of the others.He would have them all assembled before him within a half hour.
The handsome, well-formed, blond young menof Dorchlunt marched in company-size formationsonto the field, feet moving in perfect unison, eyessnapping right as they passed the review stand,where, to their initial puzzlement, one man in agreatcoat stood to watch them. Gorben and a few of the others recognized Pat, and for Gorben it wasa special thrill to know that his friend had the sole honor of the final review before glory.
The voices of the officers and the drill sergeants rang out in the still, warm air. The sound of feet inunison thudded on hard-packed ground. And thenthey stood before him, two thousand strong, asfine a group of young men as Pat had ever seen.For a moment, terrible doubt came to him, but heforced himself to picture a massive UP fleet dying, and then the march of the Brenden's form of government, with its hard-eyed security police, acrossthe populated galaxy.
The gunners stood at attention. Pat had beenstanding with his hands behind his back. He raisedone hand, placed the. admiral's cap on his head,shrugged out of the greatcoat and let it fall, andtook two steps forward.