quietly . . . and realized that the house was empty. I won’t try to define this but an empty house doesn’t feel, smell, sound, or taste like one with a person sleeping in it. I went straight to the bedroom. Empty bed. Empty bath. I switched on lights and presently I found it, a long printout for me in the terminal:
Dearest Friday, It looks now as if you won’t be home before I leaveÄand that is probably just as well because we would just cry on each other and that’s no help.
My job came through but not as expected. Keeping in touch with my former boss paid off; Dr. Krasny called me shortly after I went to bed. He is CO. of a brand-new MASH being set up to serve the Sam Houston Scouts. An expanded Scouts of course; each battalion is cadre for a triangular combat team, a pony brigade. I am not supposed to tell you where we are mounting or where we will go but (burn this printout after you read it!) if you were to go west from Plainview, you might run across us in Los Llanos Estacados, before you reach Portales.
Where are we going? That’s really classified! But if we don’t hit Ascension, some wives will draw a pension. I called Anna and Burt; they are meeting me in El Paso at ten past eighteen
already in Texas. Oh, dear!]
because Dr.
Krasny assured me that they would have jobs, either as combat troops or as auxiliary medical if any hitch develops. There is a job for you, too, my dear oneÄcombat if that’s what you want. Or I’ll rate you medtech-3 and use you myself and upgrade you to master sergeant (medadmin) in nothing flat, as I know your quality and so does Colonel Krasny. It would be good to have all four of usÄfive, I meanÄ back together again.
But I’m not trying to twist your arm. I know you have things troubling you about your Canadian friends who disappeared. If you feel that you must stay loose to look for themÄbless you and good luck. But if you want to get in a little action with bonus pay, come straight to El Paso. The address is Panhandle Investments, El Paso Division, Field Operations Office, Environmental Factors, Attention John
Krasny, Chief EngineerÄand don’t laugh; just memorize it and destroy it.
Once this operation is in the news you can reach any of us openly through the Houston office of the Scouts. But in the meantime I am “personnel chief clerk” in “Environmental Factors.”
May a gracious God watch over you and keep you safe from harm.
All my love,
Goldie
XXVII
I burned it at once. Then I went to bed. I didn’t feel like eating dinner.
Next morning I went to the Labor Mart, looked up Mr. Fawcett, agent for HyperSpace Lines, and told him that I wanted to sign on as a master-at-arms, unarmed.
The supercilious slob laughed at me. I glanced at his assistant for moral support but she kept her eyes averted. I restrained my temper and said gently, “Would you mind explaining the joke?”
He stopped his raucous cawing and said, “Look, chicken, `master’ as in `master-at-arms’ designates a male. Although we might be able to hire you as `mistress’ in some other department.”
“Your sign says Equal Opportunity Employer. The fine print under it states that `waiter’ includes `waitress,’ `steward’ includes `stewardess,’ and so forth. Is that true?”
Fawcett stopped grinning. “Quite true. But it also says: `physically able to carry out the normal duties of the position.’ Master-atarms is a police officer aboard ship. Master-at-arms, unarmed, is a cop who can keep order without having to resort to weapons. He can wade into a fight and arrest the center of the disturbance, barehanded. Obviously you can’t. So don’t give me any quack about taking it to the union.”
“I shan’t. But you didn’t read my brag sheet.”
“Can’t see that it matters. HoweverÄ” He glanced casually down
the page. “Says here you’re a combat courier, whatever that is.”
“That means that when I have a job to do, nobody stops me. If somebody tries too hard, he’s dog meat. A courier goes unarmed. I sometimes carry a laser knife or one-shot tear gas. But I depend on my hands. Note my training.”