“I thought these things were for ball games.”
“In this case they’re for preventing ball games.”
The clerk gave an evil leer. “Some of the species you’ll be up against fight real dirty.”
Peace stifled a pang of dread. “Where’s the rest of my uniform?”
“That’s it, pal. That’s all you get.”
“What?”
Peace laughed uncertainly. “A helmet and a cup! That’s not a uniform.”
“It is if you join 203 Regiment,” the clerk said.
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand much, do you?” The clerk sighed in exasperation, made as if to walk away, then leaned across the counter. “The 203rd is sponsored by Triple-Ess. Right?”
Peace nodded. “What does Triple-Ess mean?”
“Savoury Shrimp Sauce, you dummy. Don’t you know anything about the Legion?”
“Not a thing.” Peace lowered his voice and leaned forward until his nose was almost touching the other man’s through the wire mesh. “You see, the machine they hooked me up to in surgery wiped out all my memory.”
“All of it?” The clerk pulled backwards abruptly, his eyes widening. “You must have been a real…”
“Don’t say it,” Peace cut in. “I’m sick of hearing that.”
“All right, pal. No offence intended.” The clerk read Peace’s name badge. “I don’t want to cross somebody like you, Warren. Honest. I was only…”
Peace silenced him with an upraised hand. “What were you saying about Savoury Shrimp Sauce?”
“Well, they’ve been having a bad time lately— ever since it was found that the local shrimps are so full of mercury they get taller on a hot day. Sales have dropped right off, so Triple-Ess have a lot less money to put into the Regiment, and they decided to cut down on uniforms.”
“I didn’t know the Legion worked that way.”
“You should’ve joined the 186 Regiment. It’s home city is Porterburg, too—the recruiting station’s just a few blocks south of here—but it’s backed by Stingo Pesticides, and they’re loaded these days. You’d have got a nice uniform there, Warren.”
Peace pressed the back of a hand to his forehead, wondering why the news about the Space Legion’s commercial orientation should have shocked him so much, and his gaze fastened on the resplendent figure of Lieutenant Toogood. “The Lieutenant’s got a full uniform,” he pointed out. “And Captain Widget, and Sergeant Cleet.”
“Ah, but they’re base personnel, stationed right here in Porterburg,” the clerk said. “It would be bad for Triple-Ess’s image if they were seen going around dressed like bums—but you guys will be shipping out as soon as you finish basic training.”
“I see,” Peace turned to leave.
“Thanks for putting me in the picture.”
“Wait a minute, Warren.” The clerk had developed an air of conspiratorial friendliness.
“What sort of shoes are you wearing?”
“Thin ones,” Peace said, realizing that the pain in his damaged toe had faded only because of the numbing coldness seeping up from the concrete floor.
“They’ll be no use in the sort of places you’ll be sent to. I tell you what I’ll do, Warren. I never met a ranker who’d lost more than three months out of his memory, so ‘cause you’re kind of special I’ll let you have these.” The clerk reached under the counter and came up with a huge pair of red boots with gold heels and toe caps.
“What are they?” Peace said, impressed. “Genuine Startrooper Sevenleague boots— standard issue when Triple-Ess was at the top of the Dow-Jones ratings. That’s the last pair on the whole base, Warren. I’ve been keeping them to sell to some ranker who had a bit of extra cash, but since Captain Widget took over out there nobody gets through with two cents to rub together. You might as well have them.”
“Thanks.” Peace gathered up the heavy boots, tucked them under his arm with the rest of his uniform, and set off towards another window where he could see men being issued with rifles.
“Wear them in health, Warren,” the clerk called after him. “As long as it lasts, anyway.”
As Peace was approaching the window Ryan and Fair fell into step beside him. Ryan was looking cheerful again, his eyes gleaming in accompaniment to the sparkling of his green suit.
Fair’s slate-coloured countenance wore a look of shifty contentment.
“Me and Coppy have worked out a new plan,” Ryan said in a low voice. “I was a bit worried back there, but everything’s okay now.”
Peace was reluctantly impressed by their refusal to accept defeat. “What are you going to do?”
“It’s easy! Me and Coppy have a lot of friends in Porterburg, friends who are bound to know what we did to get into this mess. The first leave we get during basic training we’ll go and see them—and get our memories back.”
“Supposing we don’t get any leave?”
“We’re bound to. Anyway, it wouldn’t make any difference—me and Coppy would get over the wall some way. We’ll get out. Just wait and see.”
“Good luck.” Peace barely had time to wonder if he too had friends in Porterburg when he found himself at the equipment window. A gleaming weapon, vaguely recognizable as a radiation rifle, was thrust into his hands, and in a few seconds he had been jostled out of the building and into a large quadrangle surrounded by a high wall. It resembled the exercise yard in a prison, except that a blue dinosaur-like creature with a single white spot on its belly had been painted on the brickwork opposite the doorway from which the group had emerged.
Iron-grey clouds were pursuing each other across the sky and a sleet-laden wind made the dismal hall the recruits had just quit seem a haven of warmth and good cheer. They put on their helmets and huddled together like sheep while Lieutenant Toogood ascended the steps of a small rostrum.
Peace took the opportunity to kick off his lightweight shoes and slip his feet into the resplendent calf-length red-and-gold boots which had so unexpectedly come into his possession. They were much too large, the tops gaping open around his rather thin legs, but the stout soles gave excellent protection against the cold. He felt blocky little projections under each of his big toes, which seemed a strange flaw in such expensive footwear, and made up his mind to fix them at the first leisure moment.
“Pay attention, men,” Lieutenant Toogood ordered. “You are about to begin your basic training.”
“I think I’ll go over the wall tonight,” Ryan muttered through chattering teeth. “I couldn’t stand much of this.”
“You’ve all been issued with standard service rifles,” Toogood continued. “I want you to point them at the blue silhouette on the wall opposite you and pull the triggers. Proceed.”
Slightly surprised at being allowed to fire a lethal weapon with so little preparation, Peace aimed the rifle at the blue dinosaur and pulled the trigger. A slender purple ray stabbed out of the muzzle and struck the wall several metres above the animal silhouette. As effortlessly as he would have directed a spotlight, he brought the ray down until it was hosing its energy against the target circle on the dinosaur’s mid-section. The other recruits did likewise and flakes of brickwork began to fall to the ground from the glowing circle.
“That’s enough—don’t waste the batteries.” Toogood folded his arms and waited until the last of the purple rays had faded away.
“Congratulations, men! I take back all the things I said about you earlier—you have all completed your basic training with flying colours. You will now board the personnel carrier for transportation to the nearest war.” He pointed at a blue truck which had entered the yard and was lumbering towards the group.
Ryan, who was standing beside Peace, gave a bleat of alarm. “Sir! Please, sir! You can’t do this to us, sir,” he shouted. “I thought the basic training went on for weeks.”