Part 2 (1/2)
”Do you have Katzenwa.s.ser '36?”
For the first time, Einna turned to acknowledge the presence of Big Barb's girl.
”I think we do,” Talulah said. ”I'll check.” She scampered off to do so.
”If we don't, may I recommend the Alhambran retsina? It's on the sharp side, but should pique your appet.i.tes quite nicely.”
Katie dug her nails into Ba.s.s's arm again. ”Thank you, we may do that,” she said.
With a slight bow, Einna Orafem turned and regally made her way back to the kitchen. She only jumped once from having her bottom slapped along the way.
”Alhambran retsina?” Ba.s.s croaked as soon as Katie withdrew her nails from his arm. ”On the sharp side? That stuff's so raw, it can strip the chameleon paint off a Dragon!” That stuff's so raw, it can strip the chameleon paint off a Dragon!”
”Keep your voice down, dear,” Katie said, patting his bruised arm.
”Roast haunch of roc? Do you know what a roc is? It's the main predator on Xanadu, that's what! I wouldn't be surprised if the last meal that 'haunch' she's so anxious to feed us had was human! The Dominion veal-lamb chops were the only thing that woman mentioned that qualifies as food fit for human consumption!”
”Now, now, dear, the woman's a chef, chef, not the kind of slap-it-on-the-griddle-and-hope-it-doesn't-burnbefore-it-dies kind of cook Big Barb usually hires. I'm sure the roc will be quite tasty-and the kw.a.n.gduk, too, if you'd only give it a chance.” not the kind of slap-it-on-the-griddle-and-hope-it-doesn't-burnbefore-it-dies kind of cook Big Barb usually hires. I'm sure the roc will be quite tasty-and the kw.a.n.gduk, too, if you'd only give it a chance.”
Fortunately, the bartender was able to find a dusty bottle of Katzenwa.s.ser '35 hidden in a deep recess under the bar. It wasn't as fine a vintage as the '36, but far better in Ba.s.s's view than Alhambran retsina.
When dinner was finally served, he loved the Dominion veal-lamb chops, but refused to even taste the roast roc haunch. Katie found the Xanadu roc a bit gamey, but otherwise quite delicious. They splurged on a cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee with a dessert of Novo Kongor tart.
Katie dragged Ba.s.s out of Big Barb's just before Einna Orafem came out of the kitchen again so he missed the fun.
During the course of the meal consumed by Ensign Charlie Ba.s.s and his lady, the common room had filled with nearly a hundred Marines, eating and drinking-mostly drinking. And that didn't count the thirty or more Marines who crowded the bar that stood along one wall, or the local fishermen and rowdies who also used Big Barb's as their home away from home. Staff Sergeant Hyakowa was elsewhere, as befitted his rank, but most of the rest of third platoon had filtered in. Nearly every one of them paused briefly to exchange compliments with Ba.s.s and Katie. No more than brief compliments. After all, Charlie Ba.s.s was no longer a gunnery sergeant, he was a commissioned officer, and therefore looked upon askance by the enlisted men. Besides, he was with his lady, and n.o.body wanted to take a chance of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g things up for him for the night; any s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g to be done was up to him. It didn't take much muscle flexing for third platoon to clear a clump of tables midway along the wall opposite the bar, especially when Lance Corporal Schultz pointed at a table and growled, ”Mine.”
Then Einna Orafem braved her way through the common room to see how Ba.s.s and Katie liked their dinner-she found the common room several magnitudes of rowdiness greater than it had been earlier. She groaned silently when she realized the couple had already left, and turned to make her way back to the kitchen. Catcalls and whistles had started as soon as she stepped into the common room, increased as she made her way through, and reached a crescendo when she turned back.
She had made only two steps before a slap to the rear caused her to shriek and jump. The catcalls and whistles changed to laughs and cheers as she tried to run away. But after just two steps, an arm reached out and seized her around the waist. The arm belonged to a lance corporal from the FIST Dragon company, who pulled her onto his lap.
”What's your hurry, honey?” the lance corporal roared. ”You're new here, you gotta get with the program and meet the customers, get friendly with us!”
”But I'm the chef chef!” Einna jerked free of his arm and bounded away but was quickly hemmed in by several Marines who left their seats to surround her.
”Come on, baby, where's your spirit?”
”How are you going to make any money if you don't get friendly?”
”Ignore them, I can take you to heaven!”
Einna spun about, in growing panic, her mouth open in silent screams. Suddenly a hole opened in the circle surrounding her, and a huge figure filled it.
Three words, sounding like a small avalanche, rumbled out of that huge figure: ”She's the cook cook!”
The catcalls, whistles, laughs, and cheers died.
The Marines who had stood to surround Einna Orafem dropped back into chairs, and weren't very particular about whether they landed in the same ones from which they'd risen-or even if the chairs
were already occupied. ”Ain't Big Barb's girl, she's the cook cook! Leave her alone!” In Einna's eyes, the huge form resolved itself into a very large, copper-skinned Marine. She flung herself at him for protection. His collar with its rank insignia was just above her eye level. She wasn't familiar with the device, but she knew he wasn't an officer, probably not even a corporal. But she didn't care; he'd made the others leave her alone.
”Thank you,” she said, sobbing. ”Come,” the big Marine rumbled. He gently put an arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the kitchen. The room was silent as the two made their way to the kitchen, the father of all sheepdogs herding a lost lamb through a pack of hungry but frightened wolves. It wasn't until the kitchen door closed behind them that the silence was broken. ”Way to go, Hammer!” Corporal Claypoole shouted. Inside the kitchen, Schultz lightly lifted Einna Orafem and sat her on a counter. He held out a hand and snapped his fingers. Someone hurriedly shoved an almost-clean towel into it, and he gently daubed it at her cheeks and around her eyes, blotting away the tears, and only incidentally smearing her makeup. Einna stopped crying, gave one big shudder, hiccuped, and slumped, still; Schultz put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from falling over. Only then did the big Marine look around at the kitchen staff. They stared at him, awed. He returned their stares, and they abruptly made themselves scarce.
”Okay,” he said, looking at her again when they were alone. He wasn't asking if she was all right, he was telling telling her she was. She straightened slightly, glancing at the steadying hand that had remained on her shoulder since he'd wiped her tears away, then looking into his eyes. ”Thank you,” she murmured. ”You saved me.” her she was. She straightened slightly, glancing at the steadying hand that had remained on her shoulder since he'd wiped her tears away, then looking into his eyes. ”Thank you,” she murmured. ”You saved me.”
He grunted. His grunt seemed to say it was no big deal. ”They won't bother me anymore, will they?” ”No.” The word seemed to come from deep inside a bottomless cave. ”What's your name?” ”Schultz.” ”You're not an officer, are you?” He just looked at her. ”You're not even a corporal, are you?” His head barely moved side to side. She thought, what were the ranks she'd heard the Marines had? ”Lance corporal?” ”Yes.” ”Well, now, Lance Corporal Schultz,” she said briskly, shaking herself and sitting straight, ”for as long as I continue to work here, whenever you come in, you get the best meal I can prepare for you. On the house.”
He raised an eyebrow. ”I'm the chef, I can do that. You'll probably have to pay for your beer, but your food is free. That's the least I can do for you.”
”Okay?” This time it was was a question. a question.
”Yes, I'm all right now. You can rejoin your friends.”
Schultz removed his hand from her shoulder, but before he could turn, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. Then, as though shocked by her own actions, she jerked back and dropped her hands primly into her lap.
”Thank you,” she softly said again, and watched his broad back as he left the kitchen. He was younger than her, almost all of them except that Ensign Ba.s.s were, but not by many years.
She shook herself and wondered why she'd thought that.
Schultz didn't have to say anything when he returned to the common room. He didn't even have to look around. Everybody knew that Einna Orafem was now under his protection, and n.o.body n.o.body wanted to cross Hammer Schultz. wanted to cross Hammer Schultz.
So things went for a couple of weeks more. During the days the Marines of 34th FIST stood minor daily inspections, drilled on their parade grounds, sat through lectures and trids in company cla.s.srooms, cleaned their weapons and gear, and engaged in physical fitness routines and hand-to-hand combat training. In the evenings they pulled liberty, did or did not go into Bronnysund, maybe stayed on base and went to fliks, ate in the mess halls or at Pete's Place, the civilian-run restaurant on base, worked on their Marine Corps Inst.i.tute courses, studied for promotion exams, or read for the sheer pleasure of reading. On weekends, nearly everybody headed for town. True to her word, Einna Orafem made sure Lance Corporal Schultz ate well and for free. Not that she ever left the sanctuary of her kitchen; she had the girls on table duty tell her when he came in. And, of course, Schultz never went into the kitchen.
Then things changed.
Captain Conorado, commander of Company L, looked over his Marines at morning formation on First Day two weeks after Schultz rescued Einna Orafem and announced, ”We have an IG one month from today.” He ignored the groans from the ranks, there weren't many of them and they weren't loud. Not many of the Marines in the company had been through the grueling experience of an Inspector General's inspection. In a month, the announcement of an IG inspection would set off such a chorus of complaints that he might have to take disciplinary action to quell them.
”You have one week to get everything squared away,” Conorado continued. ”Next First Day, there will be a platoon commander's pre-IG. You will then have one day to rectify any discrepancies before a company commander's pre-IG. The First Day after that, you will stand a battalion commander's pre-IG, followed a week later by FIST pre-IG.
”After all that, the G.o.ds help anybody who isn't ready to ace the IG's inspection.
”Platoon commanders, to the company office. Company Gunnery Sergeant, front and center!”
Gunnery Sergeant Thatcher, Company L's second-ranking enlisted man, advanced from his position at the right front of the formation, came to attention in front of Conorado, and sharply lifted his right hand in salute.
Conorado returned the salute and both Marines dropped their hands. ”Gunnery Sergeant, when I release the company to you, you will have the platoon sergeants begin preparing their Marines for the first pre-IG.”
”Aye aye, sir!” Thatcher replied.
”Gunnery Sergeant, the company is yours.”