Her heart skipped a beat, and she decided not to ask what the important things were. She’d rather have her illusions. “Okay, Major. One of the bars broke open today, when it fell—and it wasn’t just foam, it was hollow.”
Papa stared at her for a long minute. Then he said, “That’s more than somebody pulling a sharp one on somebody else. That’s collaboration.”
He turned away, frowning as he strode along, and she suddenly felt hurt, locked out. But he turned back to her and said, “Think you could get a promotion?”
“Why—I don’t know,” she said, startled. “I never wanted one, really. I make enough to live on, and . . .” She didn’t finish; she would have had to say, “and I’m safe.”
“Try,” Papa urged. “I’d like to know what happens to that flawed steel. Nothing, I hope. But if the Company’s willing to pay so much for so little, they might have other arrangements going, too.”
“You mean . . . ”
“Nothing.” Papa shook his head. “I don’t mean anything—yet. Too many possibilities. Hopefully, I’m wrong, and all we’re looking at is a little bit of mutual backscratching. But try, okay? You deserve a better job, anyway.”
But I don’t, she thought helplessly.
Papa noticed. He frowned. “Why not? You’re a wonderful woman.”
She turned away. “You don’t know me—yet.”
“Yet,” he agreed, and her heart thawed. “But what could you have done, that would make you think you’re not great?”
Her voice turned flat. “I deserted my unit.”
Papa frowned. “I thought you were invalided out.”
She tossed her head, irritated. “Invalided, deserted—what’s the difference?”
“A lot,” he snapped. “I know.”
She looked up at him, startled. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . . ”
“Of course not.” His smile shone again. “But if it’s not true for me, Alice, it’s not true for you, either.”
He had used her name! She turned away, rattled. “You don’t understand. I was glad I couldn’t go back.”
“Ahhhh.” But there was no judgement in that, only warmth, only sympathy. “Glad they didn’t order you to, huh?”
She nodded, feeling herself sink inside.
“Because you would have had to go, if they had?”
“Yes,” she hissed. Why was he tormenting her like this?
“Then you didn’t desert.”
Alice stopped still for a second, then looked up at him.
“What?”
“You didn’t desert,” Papa explained. “If you’d have gone back if they’d ordered you to, then you didn’t desert.”
Alice turned away and started walking again, numb. “I guess I didn’t, did I?”
“Not a bit,” Papa assured her. “A scared soldier is still a soldier, and I’ve met a lot of ‘em—me included.”
“Thank you, Major,” she murmured. “Thank you very much.”
“My pleasure. So will you apply for a promotion?”
Alice gave a short nod. “Yes.”
“See?” Papa’s voice was full of warmth. “I told you you’re not a deserter.”
She beamed up at him, and her face was filled with sunlight. He let himself drift downward into her eyes, then opened his lips against hers.
After a while, he straightened up, taking a deep breath. “Yes. Well, now. It seems I said something about dinner some while ago, didn’t I?”
“I don’t need it,” she said, beaming up at him.
“Maybe not, but I do.” He took her arm, hooking her hand over his elbow. “Someplace with bright lights, okay?”
“Anything you say, Major.” She floated along on his arm, feeling very sultry.
“Well, we’re both reasonable men.” The sales manager leaned back, caressing his snifter. “Surely we can come to some kind of accommodation.”
‘Reasonable’ and ‘accommodation’ were both words that rang alarm bells in Papa’s head. With a two-alarm wariness, he said, “I doubt it, Mr. Gleed.”
The sales manager looked pained. “Please, Major Stuart! Certainly we can deal with first names, can’t we?”
“That’s only for personal situations, Mr. Gleed, and this is official. After all, if your STOs won’t detonate, they won’t detonate. And that’s all there is to it.”
“One.” The sales manager held up a finger. “One out of five you tested—at considerable cost to Arista, I might add.”
“That’s one out of five Hothri battleships coming through to blast our cities, Mr. Gleed.”
“A fluke.”The sales manager waved it away. “You happened to get one of the very few duds, Major.”
“All right. Give me five more to test. Only this time, don’t charge the government for them.”
The sales manager reddened. “Major, that would be prohibitively expensive for us.”
“It would be even more expensive for you if those missiles fail when the Hothri blast through.”
The sales manager took a long breath as he sat back, eyeing Papa with a new and different gleam in his eye. He started to say something, caught himself, and said instead, “Our missiles won’t fail when the time comes, Major.”
“Then,” Papa said, “make sure they don’t fail now.”
The sales manager leaned forward again. “Major Stuart, my company has put aside all other projects to develop this surface-to-orbit missile, and the government has an ironclad contract to buy them.”
“True,”Papa agreed, “when the Navy accepts delivery.”
“There is no reason not to!”
“Twenty percent don’t work, Mr. Gleed.”
“Major . . .”Gleed drew a long, shaky breath. “Any delay in processing this sale could be ruinous for General Munitions. We have invested sixty percent of our capital in the development and production of this weapon!”
“Then invest a little more, Mr. Gleed. Fix the detonators.”
The next week, they had a new detonator in production, and a mugger jumped Papa on his way home.
He liked to walk the mile to his apartment-it was the only exercise he ever got any more. And okay, sure, it was late—it always was when he came home—but not that late.
Still, the kid who jumped him wasn’t worrying about the rules. Papa was walking past the corner park when something hard and rough closed about his throat, yanking him back, and steel flashed in the dark.
Old reflexes took over. Papa kicked back, heard something crack, and the steel went wide as the mugger groaned and loosened his hold—just a little, but enough for Papa to drop down, straightening his legs as he bowed and pulled—sending the mugger flying over his head. Papa hung on to the arm, and the man slammed down on the ground with a howl—then howled again as Papa bent his arm back and yelled for the police.
By the time they got there, the man was very ready to talk. Why not? He’d already told everything, and had been outraged to find out that Papa couldn’t really do anything about the dislocated shoulder.
But he didn’t really have anything worth saying. Someone had paid him five K to beat up Papa—”Want me to kill him, too?” “We’re not fussy.”—and promised him more afterward. Other than that, Papa couldn’t really hold a grudge—the poor guy had been maimed in battle by the Hothri, and couldn’t remember directions for more than a few hours any more. Too proud to go for Vets’ Aid, too, so he eked out a living any way he could. Papa struck a deal. He didn’t press charges, and the mugger went to live in the Vets’ Home.
He didn’t stop walking home. But he did start carrying his sidearm again.
The foreman called her over as she came in the door, before her clock-chime had even faded. With heart. pounding, she came over. What had the boss-lady found out?