Johnson felt like kicking himself because he hadn’t figured out what was going on before he delivered the scooter. He didn’t like thinking of himself as a chump or a jerk. What choice did he have, though? Not much.
He wasn’t the only one on the starship to work out what had probably happened, either. When he came up to the control room to take a shift less than a day after Yeager and Healey talked, Mickey Flynn greeted him with, “And how is everyone’s favorite drug smuggler this morning?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Johnson answered. “You can’t mean me.”
“I can’t? Why not?”
“Because that would violate regulations, and I’d get a spanking if I violated them.”
“This has, of course, been your abiding concern since time out of mind.”
“Why, certainly,” Johnson said. “Would I be here if it weren’t?”
“The mind reels at the possibilities,” Flynn replied. “Even if you were smuggling drugs to the Race, though, why would you worry about it?”
That was a good question. In truth, Johnson didn’t much care how the Lizards amused themselves in their spare time. He wouldn’t have minded sending them ginger… if it had been his idea. His voice roughened as he answered, “I’ll be damned if I want that shithead in charge of us making me do his dirty work for him.”
“I’m shocked-shocked, I tell you. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you’d conceived a dislike for the man.”
What Johnson said to that had something to do with conceiving, but not much. His opinion of Lieutenant General Healey was certainly less than immaculate.
It seemed like fate, then-and not a very benign sort of fate, either-that the commandant of the Admiral Peary summoned Johnson to his office as the pilot came off his shift. Mickey Flynn said, “There, you see? He was listening all along.”
“I don’t care. He already knows what I think of him,” Johnson answered, which was true enough. But, however little he wanted to, he did have to find out why Lieutenant General Healey wanted to see him.
Healey greeted him with the usual unfriendly glare. But he said nothing about what Johnson had said in the control room. Instead, fixing him with a glare, the commandant barked, “Are you ready to fly the Lizards’ scooter back to the Horned Akiss? We’ve learned everything we’re likely to from it.”
“That depends, sir,” Johnson answered.
Healey’s bulldog glower only got angrier. “Depends on what?” he demanded, hard suspicion in his voice.
“On whether you’ve loaded it up with ginger, the way you did with ours. If you have, you can find yourself another sucker, on account of the Lizards are going to land on whoever tries to pull the same stunt twice like a ton of bricks.”
“You’re the best scooter pilot we’ve got. It’s almost the only thing you’re good for. I can order you to fly that scooter,” the commandant said.
“Yes, sir, you sure can,” Johnson agreed cheerfully. “And you can fling me in the brig for disobeying orders, too, because I won’t take it out of the air lock till you tell me the truth about it.”
“I always knew you and that Lizard-loving Yeager were two of a kind,” the commandant snarled.
That answered Johnson’s question without directly answering it. “Why don’t you send Stone, sir?” he asked in turn. “He’s always happy to do anything you say.”
“He is the senior pilot,” Healey said stiffly.
“You mean you can’t afford to lose him but you can afford to lose me?” Johnson said. “Well, sir, I’ve got news for you: I can’t afford to lose me. So when you send that scooter over, find yourself another boy to ride herd on it.”
The commandant glowered at him. Healey had come to expect insubordination from him over the years. Outright insurrection was something else again. “Consider yourself under arrest, Colonel,” Healey said. “Report to the brig at once.”
“Happy to, sir,” Johnson answered. “Only one question: where the hell is it? I haven’t gone looking for it till now. I didn’t even think we had one.”
“We do, and you have so,” Healey said. “It’s on B deck, room 227. Enjoy yourself.”
“Sir, I won’t be talking to you, so I expect it’ll be a pleasure.”
Johnson also had the pleasure of leaving before the commandant could reply. He headed straight for the brig. It proved to be a compartment like any other on the starship. The only difference was, it had a door that wouldn’t open from the inside once he closed it after himself. That could be no fun at all in case of emergency, but Johnson refused to dwell on unpleasant possibilities. He strapped himself onto the standard-issue bunk and took a nap.
Nobody bothered him. He began to wonder if Healey’d told anyone he was jugged. Then he wondered if anybody would come by and feed him. He had visions of someone finding a starved, shriveled corpse in the brig the next time Healey decided to throw someone in there, which could be years from now.
He told himself he was being silly. Stone and Flynn would notice he wasn’t showing up for his shift. They’d ask where he was… wouldn’t they? Healey would have to tell them… wouldn’t he? It all seemed logical enough. But when logic and Lieutenant General Healey collided, all bets were off.
Three hours later, the door to the cell opened. It was Major Parker, Healey’s adjutant. Johnson looked at him and said, “I want a lawyer.”
“Funny, Colonel. Funny like a crutch,” Parker answered.
“What, you think I’m kidding?” Johnson said. “My ass, pardon my French.”
“And where are you going to find a lawyer here?” the other officer asked in what he evidently intended for reasonable tones. He looked dyspeptic. Anyone who had to listen to Healey all the time had a good reason for looking dyspeptic, as far as Johnson was concerned.
He said, “Okay, fine. Screw the lawyer. Let me talk to Ambassador Yeager. That ought to do the job. By God, that ought to do it up brown.”
Parker looked as if he’d asked for the moon. “The commandant sent me here to let you out as long as you give me your word of honor you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
“Sorry.” Johnson shook his head. “No deal. He’s the one who got into this mess, and got me into it with him. He ought to be making me promises, not asking for them. I’d just as soon stay here. How long before the whole ship starts wondering why? How long before the Lizards start wondering why, too?”
“Colonel, you are deliberately being difficult,” the adjutant said, his voice starchy with disapproval.
“You noticed!” Johnson exclaimed. Parker turned red. Johnson nodded. “You bet your left nut I’m being difficult, Major. Healey still thinks this is my problem, and he’s dead wrong. It’s his, and he’d better figure that out pretty damn quick.”
“I’ll be back.” Parker made it sound like a threat. “The commandant won’t be very happy with you.”
“Well, I’m not very happy with him, either,” Johnson said, but he didn’t think the other officer heard him.
Another two hours went by. They were not the most exciting time Glen Johnson had ever spent. He wondered if Healey knew how potent a weapon boredom could be. Leave him in here long enough and he’d start counting the rows of thread in his socks for want of anything more interesting to do. Maybe he should have agreed when Parker offered him the deal.
No, goddammit, he thought. Healey had played him for a patsy. He wouldn’t be the commandant’s good little boy now.
The door opened again. There floated Parker, his face as screwed up as if he’d bitten into a persimmon before it was ripe. He jerked a thumb toward the corridor behind him. “Go on,” he said. “Get out.”
Johnson didn’t move. “What’s the hitch?” he asked.
“No hitch,” Parker said. “Your arrest is rescinded. Officially, it never happened. You’re restored to regular duty, effective immediately. What more do you want, egg in your beer?”