smiled, recalling the adjustment in 12th-century En-gland. He nodded. "Yeah, that was a hell of a mission, wasn't it? We almost didn't make it back."
"We did make it back, though," Lucas said. "And we were in a worse fix than you're in now."
"Maybe. Hooker never made it back, though. And Johnson bought it, too." He tossed back his whiskey. "Hell, I must be getting old. I'm turning into a maudlin drunk."
Lucas pushed back his chair and stood up. Finn glanced at him, then turned to see Major Forrester approaching their table. He wasn't required to stand to attention in the presence of a superior officer in the lounge, but he made a determined effort, anyway. He was slightly more than halfway out of his chair when Forrester said, "At ease, gentlemen. As you were."
Lucas sat back down.
"Sorry, sir," said Finn. "I gave it my best shot, but I can't seem to feel my legs too good."
"I've got half a mind to cut 'em off for you, Delaney," For-rester said.
The old man hadn't changed. Antiagathic drugs made it dif-ficult to accurately guess a person's age, but Forrester looked as old as Methuselah. Even his wrinkles had wrinkles. Yet For-rester stood ramrod straight and he was in better shape than most men under his command who were one-sixth his age. He had been their training officer in the field and Lucas knew only too well just how "old" the old man really was. He glanced at Lucas.
"You just get in, Priest?"
"Only just, sir. I was going to report to you in the morn-ing."
Forrester nodded. "I knew you'd be back. There's nothing on the outside for a soldier." He sat down and ordered a drink. Both Finn and Lucas were glad that they had already started on their Irish whiskey.
It meant that they had an excuse not to join the old man in his favorite libation. For some un-fathomable reason, Forrester had picked up a taste for Red Eye. Of all the swill that he had downed during his temporal travels, Lucas hated that old west rotgut the most. Those oldtime gunfighters either had iron constitutions or a death-wish. The stuff could make a man go blind.
"I hope you haven't gone soft on me, Priest," said For-rester. "I just got a hot one dumped into my lap and I need to put a team together in a hurry, so I hope you haven't lost your edge."
"I'm ready, sir," said Lucas. "But what about Delaney? He's filled me in on the situation and if you don't mind my saying so, sending someone with his experience to the Belt would be a waste."
"Thanks, kid," said Delaney, "but you don't have to—"
"I agree with you," said Forrester. Finn's eyes widened in surprise. "He's insubordinate, but he's a hell of a good soldier."
"Thank you, sir," said Finn, taken aback by the compli-ment.
"Don't thank me, Mister. I'm just stating a simple fact. You're a good man in the field, but when you're between assignments, you've got the emotional stability of a ten-year-old. I'm all too well acquainted with your record. Well, you're under my command now and I'll only tolerate so much before I lose my temper. You've got a yardbird's temperament, Delaney, and if you get back from this mission, I'll beat it out of you if I have to."
Finn stared at him." You mean—''
"I mean you've got a temporary reprieve," said Forrester. "You two have pulled off tough ones in the past. I don't like to break up a good team. You'll still have to get past that review board, assuming you'll make it back, but I've been talking to the officers who will be sitting on that board and I've been given to understand that if you do well on this one, they'll take that fact into consideration. So it's up to you to pull your own fat out of the fire. But if you screw up on me again, I'll personally drag your ass down to a plate and clock you out to the Paleolithic Age. You should fit right in. You'll be able to brawl to heart's content with all the other Neander-thals."
"You've made your point, sir," said Delaney. "And thanks."
"Just get the job done, Delaney. That'll be thanks enough for
"We did make it back, though," Lucas said. "And we were in a worse fix than you're in now."
"Maybe. Hooker never made it back, though. And Johnson bought it, too." He tossed back his whiskey. "Hell, I must be getting old. I'm turning into a maudlin drunk."
Lucas pushed back his chair and stood up. Finn glanced at him, then turned to see Major Forrester approaching their table. He wasn't required to stand to attention in the presence of a superior officer in the lounge, but he made a determined effort, anyway. He was slightly more than halfway out of his chair when Forrester said, "At ease, gentlemen. As you were."
Lucas sat back down.
"Sorry, sir," said Finn. "I gave it my best shot, but I can't seem to feel my legs too good."
"I've got half a mind to cut 'em off for you, Delaney," For-rester said.
The old man hadn't changed. Antiagathic drugs made it dif-ficult to accurately guess a person's age, but Forrester looked as old as Methuselah. Even his wrinkles had wrinkles. Yet For-rester stood ramrod straight and he was in better shape than most men under his command who were one-sixth his age. He had been their training officer in the field and Lucas knew only too well just how "old" the old man really was. He glanced at Lucas.
"You just get in, Priest?"
"Only just, sir. I was going to report to you in the morn-ing."
Forrester nodded. "I knew you'd be back. There's nothing on the outside for a soldier." He sat down and ordered a drink. Both Finn and Lucas were glad that they had already started on their Irish whiskey.
It meant that they had an excuse not to join the old man in his favorite libation. For some un-fathomable reason, Forrester had picked up a taste for Red Eye. Of all the swill that he had downed during his temporal travels, Lucas hated that old west rotgut the most. Those oldtime gunfighters either had iron constitutions or a death-wish. The stuff could make a man go blind.
"I hope you haven't gone soft on me, Priest," said For-rester. "I just got a hot one dumped into my lap and I need to put a team together in a hurry, so I hope you haven't lost your edge."
"I'm ready, sir," said Lucas. "But what about Delaney? He's filled me in on the situation and if you don't mind my saying so, sending someone with his experience to the Belt would be a waste."
"Thanks, kid," said Delaney, "but you don't have to—"
"I agree with you," said Forrester. Finn's eyes widened in surprise. "He's insubordinate, but he's a hell of a good soldier."
"Thank you, sir," said Finn, taken aback by the compli-ment.
"Don't thank me, Mister. I'm just stating a simple fact. You're a good man in the field, but when you're between assignments, you've got the emotional stability of a ten-year-old. I'm all too well acquainted with your record. Well, you're under my command now and I'll only tolerate so much before I lose my temper. You've got a yardbird's temperament, Delaney, and if you get back from this mission, I'll beat it out of you if I have to."
Finn stared at him." You mean—''
"I mean you've got a temporary reprieve," said Forrester. "You two have pulled off tough ones in the past. I don't like to break up a good team. You'll still have to get past that review board, assuming you'll make it back, but I've been talking to the officers who will be sitting on that board and I've been given to understand that if you do well on this one, they'll take that fact into consideration. So it's up to you to pull your own fat out of the fire. But if you screw up on me again, I'll personally drag your ass down to a plate and clock you out to the Paleolithic Age. You should fit right in. You'll be able to brawl to heart's content with all the other Neander-thals."
"You've made your point, sir," said Delaney. "And thanks."
"Just get the job done, Delaney. That'll be thanks enough for
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