“But it doesn’t matter, does it? The air gets beaten out in the forges.”
“Sure.” Papa gave her a hard smile. “But the company only gets maybe half the steel it paid for.”
“So the company does lose!”
“No. They just buy more steel, and charge the government a higher price for the finished weapons.”
“But . . . the government doesn’t care, does it?”
Papa shrugged. “You tell me. They could buy three rifles with the money they’re paying for two. Who wins?”
“Well, the Company, I suppose . . .”
“No. The Hothri.”
Alice stared, appalled, the more so because he had finally put into words what she’d been worrying about, herself. “It’s not that important!”
“Oh, yes it is,” Papa said softly. “But what worries me is, what other short cuts is the Company taking?”
“Maybe none,” Alice.said, but her stomach was shrinking into a knot.
“I hope not,” Papa said. “If they do, though, I’d like to know about it.”
She stared at him, and his eyes seemed to be drawing her in, enveloping her, compelling her . . .
She tore her gaze away, looking at the buildings they were passing, recognized the doorway with relief. “This is my dorm, Lieutenant.”
“So I see,” Papa said, with regret.
She turned back to him, forcing a smile and holding out a hand. “Well . . . good night, Lieutenant.”
“Good night.” He ignored the hand, reaching out, almost touching her chin, but not quite. “And if you see anything else funny, let me know, will you?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” she said, feeling chilled inside.
But his sudden smile thawed her as he said, “And that has got to be the world’s worst excuse for getting another date with a pretty lady. So find something wrong fast for me, huh?”
She managed to smile again. “Of course, Lieutenant, if you put it that way. If I can’t find one, I’ll make one.”
“Thanks, Little Red,” he said softly, “but you really should be more careful about wolves.”
She would, Alice decided firmly as she closed the door behind her. She would be very careful about this particular wolf—but maybe not the way he’d meant.
Papa found the flaw on the morning of the second day, when he tried to start the tank and the gauge read empty. It took him another half-hour to find out that the power plant was still functioning just fine, but with no outlet for the energy it had built up. The linkage had burned out.
“A bomb.” The general seemed very happy about it. “It was a rolling, shooting bomb. It would have killed its whole crew, and half the ratings near it.”
“Sir.” Papa stood at parade rest, eyes carefully focused an inch above the general’s left shoulder,
“Oh, sit down, Lieutenant! You’re not an NCO any more.” The general leaned back, studying Papa as he sat warily in the straight chair before the acre of desk. “You realize you’re creating difficulties, don’t you?”
“No, sir.”
“Oh, really?” The general raised one eyebrow. “And may I ask why you think we can’t get enough tanks to man every post?”
“Because General Munitions isn’t producing enough good ones, sir.”
“Not producing.” The general held his gaze steady. “It wouldn’t be because you’re not accepting delivery of the ones they do make, would it?”
“Absolutely not.” Papa shook his head. “A tank that doesn’t work, is the same as no tank at all—maybe worse, if it explodes and kills its crew.”
“Valid.” But the general still held his gaze on Papa. “How do you think we can boost production, Lieutenant?” Papa opened his mouth, but the general added. “Don’t try to say it’s not your problem.”
“Begging the General’s pardon . . . ”
The General didn’t move, but his gaze sharpened to a diamond. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“I’m only responsible for receiving and distributing deliveries of sound equipment, sir. I don’t have anything to do with procurement.”
“I told you not to say it wasn’t your problem!” The general leaned forward, eye narrowing, hands clasped. “But since you insist, we’ll make it your problem.”
“Begging the General’s pardon, but a battalion quartermaster can’t have that kind of responsibility, sir.”
“Very true—so we’re making you quartermaster for the whole Corps.” The General’s hand opened, revealing a new, glittering set of insignia. “Congratulations, Major.”
That night, Papa came home, touched his doorman, and heard Alice’s voice say, “Grandma, what big ears you have.”
Grandma’s was crowded for so early on a Wednesday night. Of course, there were always soldiers on leave, but it seemed a little odd that there were so many factory supers in here, too. Alice wondered if it was just her imagination.
But there was no mistaking the one empty table, empty except for a stocky man in uniform. The mere sight of him sent a flood of relief through Alice, and she wended her way over to him with a smile. He stood, aware of her before she’d even seen him, and lit up the room with his grin. He held her chair, and she slipped in, grateful for the anachronistic gallantry. The glow in those eyes warmed him, and he sat down beside her, almost sorry they had business to discuss.
She lowered her eyes, maybe blushing—he couldn’t tell, the lighting was dim—then looked up with a roguish smile. “How did you manage to keep the table clear, Lieutenant?”
Pepe shrugged and pointed to his insignia. “Rank. Keeps ‘em at bay.”
Alice looked, and looked again. “You were promoted.”
“Thanks for noticing.” He grinned. “Things happen fast in wartime.”
Then the jarring note registered, and Alice looked around in surprise, really noticing her surroundings for the first time. “This is an enlisted man’s place!”
“Not officially, no. And as you can see, there are a lot of civilians.”
“Yes, but they’re all rankers, too. Isn’t it wrong for you to be here?”
“Not really.” Papa grinned. “The place is civilian, not under military jurisdiction—and I’m a ranker who made good.”
“Oh.” Alice felt something relax inside, something she hadn’t known was tensed. “You were an enlisted man?”
“Yeah, but they had to promote me to make me a quartermaster. Don’t think they really wanted to, either.”
He made it sound like a joke, but Alice caught the undertone and frowned. “Why not?”
She suddenly had his total attention again, and his eyes devoured hers. “Because I’d been on the line. I knew what faulty weapons meant.”
Alice shifted nervously, and broke the gaze. “Well—that’s what I came to tell you about. You see, Major, I . . . ”
“Yeah, it is a little crowded in here, isn’t it?” he said, too loudly. “Sure, let’s try a restaurant. I’m hungry, too.”
She looked up, startled, then followed his lead, standing “Major, I . . .”
“After all, I did ask you out for dinner,” he said, still too loudly. “We can get cocktails while we’re waiting on the chef.”
She shut up, letting him help her into her coat again, then moving with him toward the door—and wondered, as the crowd seemed to part around him. Then they were outside, and she said, “Is it really that bad?”
“Dunno,” Papa said cheerfully. “Depends on what you were gonna tell me. But it’s a lot harder for the walls to have ears when we’re outdoors. In there, no telling who might have been listening—or with what. So, spill it, Super. Let’s get it out of the way, so we can pay attention to the important things.”