The Service of the Sword

"It's . . . good to see you again. Although unexpected," Mullins said huskily.

"Yes, no letters, no contact at all," she said then slapped him as hard as she could. "That is for promising to marry me and then ru

"Marry?" Charles said getting to his feet and moving over a stool as Joh

"Pleased to meet you," she said in Allemaigne, sitting down between them. "How did you get stuck with this jerk?"

"Ill-luck of the draw," Charles replied, kissing her hand. "If it permits me to worship at your feet, however, my luck has changed."

"Hah!" she replied turning back to Joh

"I got redeployed," he said lamely. "It was . . . suggested that marrying . . . well a lady with a shady background would be a negative influence on my career. Actually, it was a lot more direct than that; my commander told me that if I contacted you again he'd send us both to Hades. I didn't want to get you in trouble."

"Nice off-the-cuff excuse, there," she said. "I forgive you for leaving; it was the promise of marrying that ticked me off. I thought you were serious there for a while."

"I was," Joh

She carefully looked around, then at Charles. "I take it you didn't hear that?"

"What? My partner speaking treason?" Charles said. "Not yet. Get a grip, Joh

"I will," Mullins said. "I . . . It's good to see you, Rachel."

She paused for a moment then stroked his cheek. "It's good to see you, too, Joh

Mullins shook his head and then smiled. "I don't suppose you're free tonight?"

Even her laughter was perfect, a delighted peal like bells in a carillon. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Not where you're concerned," Mullins said.

"Well, no, I'm not free tonight," she said maliciously. "I've got a hot date."

"Oh . . ." Mullins sighed. "Okay."

"But maybe later," she continued, stroking his cheek again. "Come back tomorrow night, okay?"

"Okay," Joh

"I have to go," she said, standing up and arranging her robe. "Take care."

"I will," Mullins said watching her walk away. Then: "Shit."

"Bit of a spark there, still, old boy," Charles said, patting him on the back.

"I nearly shot myself when I got back from that mission," Mullins replied carefully, taking a deep pull off of his beer.

"Well, I have to admit she is spectacular, but is that really an appropriate response?"

"I don't know," Mullins said. He upended the liter glass then raised the empty and waved it back and forth. "It was my response."

"I say," Charles replied with a shake of his head. "I have to ask, though: Is she . . . available for hire?"

"Only to the highest bidder," Joh

"Bloody good conduit," Charles said with raised eyebrows.

"I wouldn't know; I never tried to recruit her," Joh

"CORDELIA RANSOM SHE HAS NO BALLS!" Mullins sang as the two of them staggered down the deserted street. As with most Peep planets, Prague City tended to roll up the sidewalks after dark.

"Why . . . extac . . . exac . . . why are we going homeward without female accom . . . without some women?"

"SAINT JUST'S ARE VERY SMALL!"

"Really, we should be accomp . . . sup . . . there ought to be women."

"ROB PIERRE . . . oh, never mind I can' think of a rh . . . rhyme for Pierre. We're returning to our domi . . . domic . . . rooms without women because wine giveth the desire and taketh away the ability."

"Okay, Shakespeare," Charles said. "If you're so smart, where's a bathroom?"

"Vo ist eine toiletten!" Joh

"We're returning to our domic . . . to our rooms unaccompanied because of your girlfriend aren't we?"

"Ah, an alleyway," Joh

"Aren't we?" Charles asked again as they both stumbled into the darkness of the alley and leaned against the wall.

"Aaaah," Mullins said in relief. "You could have taken anyone home you wanted. I was . . . un . . . disin . . . I didn't want to."

"So it was because of your girlfriend," Charles said, clearing the tubes.

"If you shake it more than twice, you're playing with it," Mullins declared.

"Halt!"

"Christ, I'm just peeing on a wall," he complained as a body rounded the corner and plowed into him.

Mullins might have been three sheets to the wind but his survival instincts were highly trained. The body, it appeared to be a male in uniform, was spun in place and slammed into the wall as he wrapped the head into a snap-grip. In another moment the struggling figure would be lying on the ground with a broken neck.

"Don't," Gonzalvez said in Allemaigne. "He's being chased by StateSec."

"Good point." Joh

"Grab his legs," Mullins muttered, dragging the body behind a dumpster and coming back out. He resumed his position as a flashlight-toting figure rounded the corner.

"Get that damned light out of my eyes!" Mullins shouted. "Who the hell are you?"

"Sorry, Sir," the StateSec private said diffidently, lowering the light. "But I'll need to see some ID. We're after a fugitive."

"Bloody local buffoons," Charles muttered in Nouveau Paris–accented French. He waggled his member and put it away, pulling out his ID tag. "Here," he continued in Allemaigne.

The private ducked his head and sca

"Negative. Who are you looking for and what is the local contact point?" Mullins asked as clearly as he could enunciate.

"We were told that Admiral Mladek is attempting to defect," the private gushed.

"What?" Gonzo gasped, right on cue. "The head of Fleet Communications?"

"Yes, Sir. We've closed down three Manty spy operations tonight and the captain says we're closing in on two more! General Garson is in charge; he was sent here by StateSec command in New Paris."

"Damn, I suppose this is important," Charles said. "You're doing a fine job, Private. If you have any questions for us, or need any help, we're in the New Prague Hotel, room 313."

"Yes, Sir," the private said, making a notation on his pad. "I have to go continue the search, Sirs."

"Carry on, Private," Joh

"Thank you, Sir," the private said, trotting back out of the alley.

"Oh, bloody hell," Charles muttered. "I'm sober old boy, how 'bout you?"