By Blood Alone Read Free Page B

Sergeant Major Mueller felt compelled to crank a round into the chamber of his GP-4 submachine gun, and how they searched the truck. A search that turned up a large number of weapons that Pardo had reported as lost.
    Fox-Smith spent the next four hours hammering Hassan’s witnesses, and none more than Colonel William Booly.
    But the officer refused to change his testimony, and, assuming the panel was honest, there was little doubt what they would find.
    Finally, when Booly left the building, it was with a deep sense of disappointment. In Pardo, in Loy, and the Legion itself.
     
    The next two days passed rather slowly. In spite of the fact that he had completed his testimony, there was the possibility that Booly would be recalled. That being the case, he was free to leave the campus so long as he stayed nearby.
    An autocab carried the officer to El Centro, the heart of the old city, and the scene of many youthful adventures. The neighborhood opened gradually, like some exotic flower, complete with its own doubtful perfume.
    The legionnaire ordered the vehicle to a halt and walked the familiar streets. Many of his favorite haunts were gone, replaced by newer establishments, none of which felt the same. Here were the flophouses, cheap restaurants, and bars with names like Jericho Mary’s, the Sergeant’s Delight, and the Black Kepi.
    And here too were the legionnaires themselves, easily identifiable by their short haircuts, regimental tattoos, and flinty stares.
    Beggars who had fought under alien suns, looked death in the eye, and buried their friends. All for the stench of urine-soaked alleys, the contempt of those they had served, and the solace found in a bottle. Demobilized by the thousands, and with nothing to do, they stood in little groups.
    Booly watched a wiry little man, the emblem of the 1st RE still visible on his right forearm, approach a prosperous citizen. A civil servant, perhaps, or the owner of a store. Words were exchanged, the ex-legionnaire jerked as if slapped, and the man turned his back.
    The officer reached into his pocket, found a wad of bills, and peeled some off. “Corporal-a moment of your time, please.”
    The legionnaire turned. His face registered surprise. “Sir?”
    “I wondered if you would do me a favor. A platoon of the lst REI saved my ass on Etan IV-and I was never able to thank them. Perhaps you could host a few of the lads to dinner. I’d be grateful.”
    Tears filled the legionnaire’s eyes. “Why, bless you, sir. It would be my pleasure. I guess the tattoo is clear enough-but how did you scan my rank?”
    “From the way you carry yourself,” Booly said truthfully, “and the chevrons on your sleeve.”
    The corporal looked, saw the dark patch of fabric, and laughed. “Once a corporal, always a corporal!”
    Booly nodded and walked away.
    Other legionnaires, curious what had transpired, drifted over. The corporal showed them the money. “We’re gonna have lunch, lads ... and some beer to wash it down.”
    The men watched their benefactor cross the street. “I want you to remember that one,” the corporal said thoughtfully. “Some need killing ... and some don’t.”
     
    The summons came the way most military communications do, at an inconvenient time, and without prior warning.
    Booly had just stepped into the shower, and ducked his head under a blast of hot water, when his wrist term began to vibrate. The officer wiped water out of his eyes and squinted at the readout: “Report General Loy-1400 hours.” Short and not especially sweet.
    Booly sent an acknowledgment and watched the time reappear : “1326.” Not much response time. Why?
    The officer finished his shower, made his way out into the simply furnished room, and spoke to the com center. “Holo vision-news channel.”
    The all-purpose holo tank faded into life. Booly waited through the end of the sports report and was half dressed by the time the news summary came on. The computer-animated news anchor