see Galil and some clerks, at the far end eastern arm of the x, going over some paperwork.
"Officers work too much," Benyamin said, fingering the checkering of the striped insignia at his collar point. He unslung his Barak, tapped on the already-positioned safety, and then dropped it on a bunk, seating himself next to it.
"Some do," Tetsuo said. He didn't sit, and he wasn't smiling. "That why you never put in for a commission?"
Benyamin shook his head. "Nope. Mmm . . . maybe, just a little. Truth to tell, I don't like shouting 'Follow me' all the time, and dashing first into God knows what. I do enough of that as is." He touched his fused right wrist. "Plenty of officers in the family, God knows. Shlomo the Asshole, you, both Zayda Bar-Els—figured we didn't need another, what with the General here coming online shortly." He patted his hip. "And since Galil just put me up for my first class senior's warrant, the pay's just fine."
"He got you your warrant?"
"Yeah." Benyamin smiled. "I was thinking about sitting around the barracks and sewing on new stripes tonight." He shrugged out of his field jacket. Beneath, his khaki shirt was unadorned, except for the chain-circled Shield of David on the left breast. That was common, among both officers and men, although Benyamin generally went for sewed-on stripes.
"Pin them on, instead." Tetsuo dropped a pair of first class senior's collar pins to the bed. They looked just like the three chevron-and-double-rocker insignia Benyamin was wearing, except that the white and black checkering was finer, more squares to the centimeter. That only showed close up; they would still look like a gray blob in a sniper's scope. "I'm thirsty."
"Oh. Fair enough." Benyamin held the pins in the palm of his hand and considered them for a moment. "How'd you know?"
"Galil and I had a little chat. He mentioned it."
"He mention anything else?"
Tetsuo looked long at Ari. "Yeah."
Benyamin exchanged his second class senior's pins for the new ones. He turned to Ari. "Tet and I are going into town, Ari; I think we need a few drinks—celebrate my new warrant. You're coming along. Tet, you want a Barak?"
Tetsuo shook his head. "I'm fine." He patted the pistol holster on the right side of his belt reluctantly before resting his hand on the butt of his sword. Tetsuo didn't like guns.
"Kiyoshi never wore swords."
"Ki couldn't cut worth anything," Tetsuo said. "Good hand with a phut gun, though."
It all felt less like a discussion and more like a performance for his benefit, and Ari wondered what the purpose of it was.
"Hang on a sec," Benyamin said, walking over to the arms locker, coming back with a holster, a pistol and two spare magazines. He dropped it on the bed next to Ari. "Put it on," Benyamin told Ari.
Benyamin picked up his assault rifle and expelled the magazine. He checked to see that it was loaded, the chamber empty, then slammed the clip home with a solid chunk. A quick manipulation and the stock was folded in; he secured it to the right side of his web belt, as though it were an oversized pistol.
"Put it on?" Ari asked. "Eh? What is it?"
"This is what we professional soldier types call a semiautomatic pistol—Belge copy of an old IMI Desert Eagle, the one that originally had the idiot safety. This leather thing is called a holster. What you do is you put the pistol into the holster, and then you put your arms through the straps there, and then tighten it up. Wear your fatigue jacket over it."
"I know what it's called."
"Good." Tetsuo gripped his hand, and pulled Ari upright. "You're carrying a pistol tonight."
"Why?" Ari shook his head. Whatever they had in mind, he didn't want any part of it.
"Trade secret," Tetsuo said, without the hint of a smile. "Something they don't teach you in Soldiering 105."
"I . . . I'd just as soon stay here."
"Look, maybe we shoot people for a living, but there are some bennies," Benyamin said. "Me, I like to travel to strange worlds, see strange
"Officers work too much," Benyamin said, fingering the checkering of the striped insignia at his collar point. He unslung his Barak, tapped on the already-positioned safety, and then dropped it on a bunk, seating himself next to it.
"Some do," Tetsuo said. He didn't sit, and he wasn't smiling. "That why you never put in for a commission?"
Benyamin shook his head. "Nope. Mmm . . . maybe, just a little. Truth to tell, I don't like shouting 'Follow me' all the time, and dashing first into God knows what. I do enough of that as is." He touched his fused right wrist. "Plenty of officers in the family, God knows. Shlomo the Asshole, you, both Zayda Bar-Els—figured we didn't need another, what with the General here coming online shortly." He patted his hip. "And since Galil just put me up for my first class senior's warrant, the pay's just fine."
"He got you your warrant?"
"Yeah." Benyamin smiled. "I was thinking about sitting around the barracks and sewing on new stripes tonight." He shrugged out of his field jacket. Beneath, his khaki shirt was unadorned, except for the chain-circled Shield of David on the left breast. That was common, among both officers and men, although Benyamin generally went for sewed-on stripes.
"Pin them on, instead." Tetsuo dropped a pair of first class senior's collar pins to the bed. They looked just like the three chevron-and-double-rocker insignia Benyamin was wearing, except that the white and black checkering was finer, more squares to the centimeter. That only showed close up; they would still look like a gray blob in a sniper's scope. "I'm thirsty."
"Oh. Fair enough." Benyamin held the pins in the palm of his hand and considered them for a moment. "How'd you know?"
"Galil and I had a little chat. He mentioned it."
"He mention anything else?"
Tetsuo looked long at Ari. "Yeah."
Benyamin exchanged his second class senior's pins for the new ones. He turned to Ari. "Tet and I are going into town, Ari; I think we need a few drinks—celebrate my new warrant. You're coming along. Tet, you want a Barak?"
Tetsuo shook his head. "I'm fine." He patted the pistol holster on the right side of his belt reluctantly before resting his hand on the butt of his sword. Tetsuo didn't like guns.
"Kiyoshi never wore swords."
"Ki couldn't cut worth anything," Tetsuo said. "Good hand with a phut gun, though."
It all felt less like a discussion and more like a performance for his benefit, and Ari wondered what the purpose of it was.
"Hang on a sec," Benyamin said, walking over to the arms locker, coming back with a holster, a pistol and two spare magazines. He dropped it on the bed next to Ari. "Put it on," Benyamin told Ari.
Benyamin picked up his assault rifle and expelled the magazine. He checked to see that it was loaded, the chamber empty, then slammed the clip home with a solid chunk. A quick manipulation and the stock was folded in; he secured it to the right side of his web belt, as though it were an oversized pistol.
"Put it on?" Ari asked. "Eh? What is it?"
"This is what we professional soldier types call a semiautomatic pistol—Belge copy of an old IMI Desert Eagle, the one that originally had the idiot safety. This leather thing is called a holster. What you do is you put the pistol into the holster, and then you put your arms through the straps there, and then tighten it up. Wear your fatigue jacket over it."
"I know what it's called."
"Good." Tetsuo gripped his hand, and pulled Ari upright. "You're carrying a pistol tonight."
"Why?" Ari shook his head. Whatever they had in mind, he didn't want any part of it.
"Trade secret," Tetsuo said, without the hint of a smile. "Something they don't teach you in Soldiering 105."
"I . . . I'd just as soon stay here."
"Look, maybe we shoot people for a living, but there are some bennies," Benyamin said. "Me, I like to travel to strange worlds, see strange
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