Misfits Read Free Page B

ahead. That didn't mean she was lonely,
though, 'cause the big guy--Jack, his name was--tugged right along
beside her, hauling what must have been the rig's shipping crate,
and pointing her the way.
    Behind, the talk was half in what Redhead
supposed was Liaden, half in Trade and prolly half in hand-talk,
too, but that didn't bounce off the walls, so she couldn't be sure.
The whole situation was odd-shaped; off-center and full of
politics, in Redhead's opinion. She'd gotten pretty used to odd
since leaving Surebleak, even if the politics sometimes escaped
her. Being close 'round Liz maybe more than most new soldiers meant
she got to watch some of the inner stuff going down, though she
didn't savvy all of it.
    "There go, kid," her escort directed in
Terran with an accent damn' close to Surebleak's. "Take the corner
there. I gotta bring this cause there's a bunch of tech-stuff
stowed inside, and Mr. Brunner'll be wanting that after the Scout
finishes sharing out today's mess o'secret. No use us working
stiffs hearin' all that; just makes us anxious."
    "Call me Redhead, why not?" she suggested,
letting the pack settle into the slightly rounded corner of the
lift. Damn if she was going back to ‘kid,' now she had chops on her
sleeve. "Or corporal."
    Jack leaned against the door panel,
twitching at a couple of the push plates while he craned his neck
to peer down the corridor, then turned back to her.
    "Corporal, is it? They must have rushed
grades from what I see."
    Redhead sighed inwardly, but she knew from
experience that the best answer was a joke.
    "Nah, not really," she said to Jack,
deadpan. "I'm big for my age, is all."
    He shook his head.
    "You can't be young enough to be big for
your age and still carry a gun for Commander Liz," he said in
Trade.
    She followed that without any trouble,
grinning wryly.
    "I've known Liz a long time. Guess she knew
me longer, really, 'cause she was my mother's friend, even before I
was born."
    Jack nodded sagely. "Right then, she mighta
known you longer.…" Back in Terran, that was--and cut off as
something on his capacious belt beeped and something else clanked.
His hands moved as quick as the sounds. The beeping stopped but the
clanking didn't, 'cause he was checking the location of some other
stuff on the belt. He'd been doing that every so often all the time
he'd been in her sight--like he couldn't stand not knowing exactly
where his equipment was. She knew a couple of hands in the Lunatics
like that: might call it a nervous habit, but they weren't the ones
to run low on ammo or to suddenly need batteries in the field.
Might be Jack'd done soldier-time somewhen, though he seemed even
more disinclined to salute than Tech Brunner.
    Jack mumbled something and she'd said,
"Huh?" before realizing he was talking to his collar. Something
twerped on his belt and the lighting in the lift went up a couple
notches.
    "Sorry 'bout that, Corporal. Lift's got some
extra solar shielding so I had to go to back-up to get the lights
on. Company don't like to waste power lighting the lifts!" He
glanced at her casually, left hand still doing its tour of the
belt.
    "Must be handy to have the overrides right
on your belt!" she said, honestly admiring such efficiency.
    He sighed, surprisingly deeply. "You might
think so, Corporal Redhead, but answer me this: What happens when
you control the overrides?"
    She shook her head and shrugged, hands up,
the unfamiliar mass on her back making her shift her feet too, for
balance. "Dunno. What happens?"
    "When you control the overrides, sometimes
you gotta make the decisions. Comes with the territory. Same with
pilots, you know?" He gave her a hard look. "Same like maybe you'll
hafta do, carrying all that info on your back."
    "Yah," she said to Jack, nodding in
agreement. "I guess that's so.…"
    Liz hit the lift, then, ahead of her escort,
leaned against the wall opposite Jack, and gave him a grin.
"Penthouse, if you please!"
    Jack said something with his hands