I pulled the covers up over my head; I couldn't stand to look at him. But they wouldn't let me alone; somebody started shaking my shoulder. "Gordon!"
"Le'me ‘lone!"
"Wake up, Gordon, and get your ass inside. You're in trouble."
I certainly was, I could tell that as soon as I stepped into the office. There was a sour taste of vomit in my mouth and I felt awful—as if a herd of buffaloes had walked over me, stepping on me here and there. Dirty ones.
The First Sergeant didn't look at me when I came in; he let me stand and sweat first. When he did look up, he examined me up and down before speaking.
Then he spoke slowly, letting me taste each word. "Absent Over Leave, terrorizing and insulting native women, unauthorized use of government property...scandalous conduct...insubordinate and obscene language...resisting arrest...striking an M.P.—Gordon, why didn't you steal a horse? We hang horse thieves in these parts. It would make it all so much simpler."
He smiled at his own wit. The old bastard always had thought he was a wit. He was half right.
But I didn't give a damn what he said. I realized dully that it had all been a dream, just another of those dreams I had had too often lately, wanting to get out of this aching jungle. Even She hadn't been real. My—what was her name? -- even her name I had made up. Star. My Lucky Star—Oh, Star, my darling, you aren't!
He went on: "I see you took off your chevrons. Well, that saves time but that's the only thing good about it. Out of uniform. No shave. And your clothes are filthy! Gordon, you are a disgrace to the Army of the United States. You know that, don't you? And you can't sing your way out of this one. No I.D. on you, no pass, using a name not your own. Well, Evelyn Cyril my fine lad, we'll use your right name now. Officially."
He swung around in his swivel chair—he hadn't had his fat ass out of it since they sent him to Asia, no patrols for him. "Just one thing I'm curious about. Where did you get that? And whatever possessed you to try to steal it?" He nodded at a file case behind his desk.
I recognized what was sitting on it, even though it had been painted with gold gilt the last time I recalled seeing it whereas now it was covered with the special black gluey mud they grow in Southeast Asia. I started toward it. "That's mine!"
"No, no!" he said sharply. "Burny, burny, boy." He moved the football farther back. "Stealing it doesn't make it yours. I've taken charge of it as evidence. For your information, you phony hero, the docs think he's going to die."
"Who?"
"Why should you care who? Two bits to a Bangkok tickul you didn't know his name when you clobbered him. You can't go around clobbering natives just because you're feeling brisk—they've got rights, maybe you hadn't heard. You're supposed to clobber them only when and where you are told to."
Suddenly he smiled. It didn't improve him. With his long, sharp nose and his little bloodshot eyes I suddenly realized how much he looked like a rat.
But he went on smiling and said, "Evelyn my boy, maybe you took off those chevrons too soon."
"Huh?"
"Yes. There may be a way out of this mess. Sit down." He repeated sharply, " ‘Sit down,' I said. If I had my way we'd simply Section-Eight you and forget you—anything to get rid of you. But the Company Commander has other ideas—a really brilliant idea that could close your whole file. There's a raid planned for tonight. So"—he leaned over, got a bottle of Four Roses and two cups out of his desk, poured two drinks—"have a drink."
Everybody knew about that bottle—everybody but the Company Commander, maybe. But the top sergeant had never been known to offer anyone a drink—save one time when he had followed it by telling his victim that he was being recommended for a general court-martial.
"No, thanks."
"Come on, take it. Hair of the dog. You're going to need it. Then go take a shower and get yourself looking decent even if you aren't, before you see the Company Commander."
I stood up. I wanted that drink, I needed it. I would have settled for the worst rotgut—and Four Roses is pretty smooth—but I would have settled for the firewater old—what was his name? -- had used to burst my eardrums.
But I didn't want to drink with him. I should not drink anything at all here. Nor eat any—
I spat in his face.
He looked utterly shocked and started to melt. I drew my sword and had at him.
It got dark but I kept on laying about me, sometimes connecting, sometimes not.
Chapter 16
Someone was shaking my shoulder. "Wake up!"
"Le'me lone!"
"You've got to wake up. Boss, please wake up."
"Yes, my Hero—please!"
I opened my eyes, smiled at her, then tried to look around. Kee-ripes, what a shambles! In the middle of it, close to me, was a black glass pillar, thick and about five feet high. On top was the Egg. "Is that it?"
"Yep!" agreed Rufo. "That's it! He looked battered but gay.
"Yes, my Hero champion," Star confirmed, "that is the true Egg of the Phoenix. I have tested."
"Uh—" I looked around. "Then where's old Soul-Eater?"
"You killed it. Before we got here. You still had sword in hand and the Egg tucked tightly under your left arm. We had much trouble getting them loose so that I could work on you."
I looked down my front, saw what she meant, and looked away. Red just isn't my color. To take my mind off surgery I said to Rufo, "What took you so long?"
Star answered, "I thought we would never find you!"
"How did you find me?"
Rufo said, "Boss, we couldn't exactly lose you. We simply followed your trail of blood—even when it dead-ended into blank walls. She is stubborn."
"Uh...see any dead men?"
"Three or four. Strangers, no business of ours. Constructs, most likely. We didn't dally." He added, "And we won't dally getting out, either, once you're patched up enough to walk. Time is short."
I flexed my right knee, cautiously. It still hurt where I had been pinked on the kneecap, but what Star had done was taking the soreness out. "My legs are all right. I'll be able to walk as soon as Star is through. But"—I frowned—"I don't relish going through that rat tunnel again. Rats give me the willies."
"What rats, Boss? In which tunnel?"
So I told him.
Star made no comment. Just went on plastering me and sticking on dressings. Rufo said, "Boss, you did get down on your knees and crawl—in a passage just like all the others. I couldn't see any sense to it but you had proved that you knew what you were doing, so we didn't argue, we did it. When you told us to wait while you scouted, we did that, too—until we had waited a long time and She decided that we had better try to find you."
I let it drop.
We left almost at once, going out the "front" way and had no trouble, no illusions, no traps, nothing but the fact that the "true path" was long and tedious. Rufo and I stayed alert, same formation, with Star in the middle carrying the Egg.
Neither Star nor Rufo knew whether we were still likely to be attacked, nor could we have held off anything stronger than a Cub Scout pack. Only Rufo could bend a bow and I could no longer wield a sword. However, the single necessity was to give Star time to destroy the Egg rather than let it be captured. "But that's nothing to worry about," Rufo assured me. "About like being at ground-zero with an A-weapon. You'll never notice it."