The Forever Hero (24 page)

“Commander, this is most irregular.”

Gerswin raised his eyebrows at the image of the dapper major.

“Most irregular. Captain Lerwin is not the most senior of the captains in Operations. As a matter of fact, he is near the middle of seniority, yet the records show he was a temporary captain, over the heads of a number of officers senior to him.”

“Linn,” Gerswin sighed, “you've known that for two years. Why are you bringing it up now?”

“Because of this.” Trelinn raised a white square of paper. “How can you justify recommending him for major? There are men and women here who have spent a decade more in the Service than Captain Lerwin.”

“Are you questioning Captain Lerwin's ability? Are you ready to put any complaint in fax?”

“Commander, Captain Lerwin is a most capable officer. That I do not dispute, but his range of experience is rather limited.”

“I happen to prefer excellence in a limited area than mediocrity in many. Commander Manders was satisfied with his performance when he made Lerwin the deputy. I have been satisfied, and you have given him good solid ratings.”

“But what about the impact on morale of passing over more senior captains?”

“Haven't noticed a problem. Everyone knows that the people who work for me are judged on ability, not seniority. Sometimes seniority and ability go together. More often, they don't.”

“I see,” answer Trelinn slowly.

“No, you don't, Linn. You use that phrase whenever you disagree and don't want to say so.”

Trelinn's mouth opened to protest, but he stopped short of saying anything as he saw how Gerswin watched him, the intensity obvious even through the antique console screen.

“Linn,” continued Gerswin implacably, “four kinds of personnel end up here—troublemakers, incompetents, dead-enders, and natives. The incompetents are almost always senior to everyone else. This is not a forgiving planet. Check the record, in case you've forgotten. Ability is what's needed, not seniority. Ability is what I reward. What I encourage.”

He cleared his throat for emphasis before continuing. “And what I expect you to encourage.”

Pad, pad, pad, pad…

His breath coming easily, Gerswin continued to put one foot in front of the other, step after step, as he narrowed the distance between the base administration/operations complex and the new town.

Lerwin had taken a fresh uniform and underwear for Gerswin when the junior officer had left earlier. He had only smiled when Gerswin told him he wanted to make the trip on foot.

Gerswin hadn't bothered to point out that he ran at least five or
six kays every day. The new town was only about seven, certainly not any more difficult for him along the clear expanse of the causeway than his normal forays through the hills, the young trees, and the old grubushes.

Pad, pad, pad…

He kept his breath patterns even, step after step, as he reached the top of the low rise that marked the rough midpoint between the two complexes.

Ahead, against the overhead clouds that darkened the twilight, he could see the glow of the town, as well as the nearer light beams of the official base shuttle as it headed back from the town to the base center.

His steps were heavier than they often were, not because of weight, but because he ran with military issue boots rather than barefoot. At least twice a week, to keep his feet tough, he ran barefoot. Only once in all the years since he had returned to Old Earth had he cut his feet, and that had been near the base itself.

His barefoot runs usually carried him through the more deserted country, away from the park used by the non-native Impie personnel, and away from the bunkers and landing grids.

Pad, pad, pad…

The ground shuttle was less than a kilometer away. Gerswin could hear the whine of the electrics as it neared him.

Realizing he was beginning to shorten his steps, he consciously made the effort to stretch each stride slightly, still keeping his rhythm as even as possible.

The lights of the shuttle swept over him as the squat bus eased over a rise and the whining let up. The driver raised a hand, and, without breaking stride, Gerswin returned the gesture. He resisted the urge to grin as well. How often did the driver and his passengers see the base commander running down the causeway, complete with frayed flight suit and boots?

He suspected the whole base knew of his obsession with exercise and hand weapons, but to know and to see the boss trotting down the causeway were two separate matters.

Thinking about the weapons, his hand dropped to his belt to insure that knives and sling leathers and stones were still there. While there were fewer predators around the base, both the coyotes and the shambletowners continued to roam the area, and neither were terribly friendly.

Gerswin smiled wryly, a substitute for a shrug as he kept his legs moving.

As he came through the last hillside cut, the new town and its few scattered lights blinked into place, and he began the gentle descent toward the northern gates, still open in the gathering dusk.

The former devilkid doubted that the gates would ever need to be closed again, but had left that decision with the elected town council.

With the leveling of the causeway tarmac for the last half kilometer, Gerswin stretched out his stride and picked up the pace. He slowed only when he reached the gates.

Once inside and past the single guard who had saluted in surprise, he began to walk to cool down before reaching Lerwin and Kiedra's new quarters—home, he mentally corrected himself.

Inside the town walls and directly behind the guard post was the shuttle station, used by both the military shuttle, which had passed him on his run, and the town's shuttle, which stood waiting and empty except for the driver.

Gerswin nodded approvingly as he passed the town shuttle, which used an alcohol-powered external combustion engine system. The brains, talent, and initiative for rebuilding were beginning to appear—just not the raw materials, at least not yet. That was his job.

Beyond the station was a small park, two hundred meters on a side, with low trees, supposedly Old Earth stock, and cold-resistant grass. On one side stood a brick and earthen composite, partly pyramid, partly tunnels, and partly labyrinth walks.

Gerswin could hear the shrieks and murmurings of children at play, but paused, since he could not see any. To his right, out of a grass hummock, popped a curly blond head, which disappeared so quickly Gerswin might have doubted he had seen it in the deepening dusk.

The base commander smiled and resumed his walk along the boulevard toward the central dwelling section.

Shortly, he turned left onto a stone walk. A hundred meters later, he stopped.

The Commander checked the dwelling, a single-story, white-walled structure with two doors, one for each of the two families. All of the quarters buildings in the new town were multi-family, ranging from the relatively smaller ones such as the one before which he stood to larger structures that accommodated three to five family groups.

Even the smallest were more spacious, and certainly more comfortable, than the old shambletown dwellings or the stark base quarters and their bunkered recirculated air.

Lerwin and Kiedra's new home was like all the others, with an old-fashioned hinged door. The door itself was a syntheplast, and the only distinguishing touch on the exterior was a square plaque set into the whitened exterior plaster on the right side of the sheltered entry-way. Gerswin studied the design on the plaque and chuckled.

A single slender pine tee appeared above a pair of crossed weapons, the weapons being a double-ended throwing knife and a standard issue hand laser.

Just before he stepped up to the door, it swung inward. Lerwin stood there, grinning.

“Sooner than I thought, Captain, but not much.” He stepped back. “Welcome to our home.”

“Glad to be here, Lerwin. Glad to be here.” He forced himself to keep from mumbling the words, wondering why he suddenly felt so tongue-tied when he had known them both for so long.

Lerwin wore a pair of rough-woven brown trousers and a shinier Imperial-made tunic. While Gerswin could hear footsteps farther inside, he did not see Kiedra.

“The curtain to the right is the guest quarters, for now, at least,” announced Lerwin. “Your clothes are there. If you want to, there's an old-fashioned shower down the hall, and the water is…well…warm.”

Gerswin nodded and stepped into the small room—bare except for a single bed, a red-and-black woven rug, and a small table next to the head of the bed. All the furniture appeared handmade.

His undress grays, without insignia, his dress black boots, and a set of clean underwear were neatly laid out on the bed.

A curtain covered what he presumed was a closet. He walked over to the curtain and pulled it back. The clothes shelves were empty, as were the hooks and hangers. The inside of the closet and the walls were all plastered in a light tan finish. The floor was a silver-shot synthetic black stone, made locally with some Service help, Gerswin recalled.

Gerswin noted the towel beside his clothes, scooped it up, and peered out into the empty hall before he walked to the room that contained the shower, a built-in bath, and sink. Toilet facilities were connected, but behind another wall. The only doors in the house appeared to be the front door and the door to the bath and toilet, not unexpectedly, since doors required either Imperial synthetics, imported substitutes, or high-energy local products.

Within another ten years, some locally grown timber would start to become available, but the major timber supplies were closer to
twenty years away. The real problem would be to keep down demand and native cutting until the newly replanted and re-established forests had succeeded in stabilizing the ecology.

Gerswin shook his head as he undressed. One complication always led to another.

A clink and a clatter from the kitchen area reminded him to hurry, and he finished stripping off his damp flight suit.

The shower was an enclosed tile stall, curtainless and doorless, but with a baffle-staggered wall design to minimize spray. The tiles were reddish glazed squares set in mortar.

Lerwin had been right. The water was warm. Not hot, not cold, but warm. His shower was quick.

After shutting off the water—there was a single, long-handled faucet lever—he toweled himself dry, rubbing his hair with the thin towel which resembled worn-out Imperial issue.

A glance out the door showed an empty hallway, and, towel wrapped around his waist, he carried his exercise clothes back to the guest room where he dressed. Once presentable, he folded the exercise clothes and put them on the table, then straightened the bed, and headed for the front room.

The living room, a boxy space roughly four meters on a side, was vacant, although the small table at one end was set for three. Closer to him, and to the entryway where he stood, with the front door to his left and the sleeping rooms behind him, were a low couch and two tables, one low and square, the other to the right of the couch, and two fabric sling seats. The dimness of the room was only partly lifted by the single lamp on the table to the right of the couch.

“Now you look the part, Captain.” Lerwin marched through the archway by the dinner table with a covered bowl, which he set down there.

“Part of what?”

“Visiting dignitary.”

“Visiting, yes. Dignitary, no.”

Lerwin grinned. “Ha! Almost got you to act like an Impie.”

Gerswin couldn't resist giving him a grin in return. “Almost. Not that far gone. Yet.”

“Sit down, Captain. Ki says dinner won't be ready for a while. Deputy Ops boss's requests kept her working too late.”

“You didn't?”

“Afraid I did.”

Gerswin eased himself into the left-hand sling chair. Lerwin took the right.

“Where did you get these?”

“Lostwin makes them.”

“Makes them?”

“Scrap. Whatever he can get.”

Gerswin frowned. Supposedly, the Imperial scrap went to the converters, both for power purposes and for security reasons.

“Just the common things. Broken seats, furniture, panels. He has to replace it with equal mass conversions. Perfectly legal.”

Gerswin ran his hand along the frame of the chair in which he sat, recognizing it was a section of flitter bracing that had been cut and molded into its new function.

“Nice work. What about the shambletowners?”

Lerwin understood the answer. “Not much into furniture yet. Lostwin can make about enough for those who are interested. Has a waiting list already.”

The base commander nodded. He needed to push up the schedule for tree planting. Resource needs were growing faster than food requirements. Without Imperial synthetics, and without wood, the incipient recovery would turn into a sickening crash.

“Need more trees.”

Lerwin nodded.

Gerswin stood as Kiedra walked in.

“How do you like it, Captain?”

“Much nicer than quarters. Much…warmer.”

“You made it possible—everything possible.”

“Just helped. Just helped.” Gerswin gestured toward the couch, a movement as much a question as an invitation.

“Dinner won't be ready for a few minutes.” Kiedra sat on the low couch, tucking one bare foot under her as she settled down.

The quiet stretched out.

“Haven't seen anything like the couch. Lostwin's work?”

Kiedra laughed, three soft musical notes in a row. “Not exactly. He made the frame. Ler, here, made the cushions.”

Lerwin looked at the black synthetic stone floor.

Gerswin shook his head in an exaggerated motion. “The talents I never found out about.”

Kiedra bolted upright. “I forgot the liftea!”

Returning moments later with three mugs on a tray, she offered the first to Gerswin. He took the mug, but waited until she had reseated herself.

“To you, and to your home, and future happiness.”

“To your own success, Captain.”

“To your future, Captain.”

The three sipped the hot tea with the orange spice aftertaste.

Gerswin cupped the smooth pottery mug in his hands, letting the steam from the tea drift into his nostrils, and studied the dark and slender black-haired woman opposite him.

Happy enough, she seemed. More than happy—more alive than he ever recalled.

She and Lerwin were good for each other, he decided, while repressing a sigh at the memory of a devilkid who had not wanted to leave him, though he had never touched her. His lips quirked momentarily.

Better the way it had turned out, much better for everyone. They had been the ones who had pushed for the changes that had let Imperials, devilkids and all, live in either the town or base quarters. They would provide the nucleus for rebuilding—if he could keep enough Imperial support coming.

“You look rather serious, Captain.”

“Reflective.”

“You're always reflective.”

Gerswin laughed, a single bark. “Point. Point.” He took another sip of the hot tea, letting the heat relax him as the liquid warmed his throat.

“Long time from Birmha to here, that what you thought?” asked Lerwin.

“Something like that,” admitted Gerswin.

“And that you've got a long way to go?” added Kiedra.

“Ki!”

“He does. A lot farther than we do. A lot farther.”

Gerswin's eyebrows went up. “What do you mean?”

“You were a captain when you gathered us together. Now you're base commander. Have you looked at your official holos? Or your physicals and stress tests?”

“Of course.”

“Notice any changes?”

Gerswin frowned, not wanting to follow the conversation in the direction it was heading. “Not really. A few lines, perhaps.”

“Not even that. In more than ten years, you haven't aged. We may look a bit older, but haven't you seen that devilkids don't age as rapidly as the Impies? The Impies notice. I can tell you that. And they sure notice that about you.”