Dire Steps by Henry V. O'Neil

Giving up all that for this shit.”
    â€œHeard he reupped out here, too. Finished two hitches, then got his old job back.” The two soldiers exchanged grins, the tension of the conversation with Ayliss easing. “Now why would a smart guy like Olech Mortas rehire somebody he’d fired, after all these years?”
    â€œThat’s easy. He’s not half as smart as everybody thinks he is.”
    Can I say I miss you, just between you and me?
    I’ve lived, I’ve cried, and almost died, all thanks to you.
    I have a gift I never gave, but it’s all yours
    Can’t wait to see you again, dear Sammy the Sim.
    A yliss and Selkirk stopped to chat with different groups as they passed among the campfires. The veterans were clearly intending to sleep out under the stars, and had already begun to arrange their bedrolls. After exchanging pleasantries for a few minutes, Selkirk steered Ayliss outside the illuminated ground so that they could approach the Banshees’ fire.
    â€œThat’s them there. The big blonde is named Deelia. She talked the others into accepting their discharges and seeking greener pastures.”
    â€œAnd the guy she’s holding?”
    â€œThat’s Tupelo, the one I told you about. Deelia’s husband. He’s supposed to have been one of the mechanics on the Banshees’ armored suits. For a guy who just spent seven years as a suit jock, he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it much.”
    â€œSo you think he’s something else.”
    â€œHe’s got Spartacan deserter written all over him.” The Spartacan Scouts were an elite reconnaissance force made up of conscripts and worse. “The Banshees and the Spartacans have always been simpatico. His skills could be useful.”
    A careless boot scuffed the dirt in the darkness nearby, but before Selkirk could react, a lone figure walked up. Unkempt hair, boyish looks, and eyes that glowed with something more than firelight. Selkirk relaxed and put a hand on the man’s arm.
    â€œHey there, Ewing. Coming back from a walk?”
    â€œOh, the journey’s just starting, Selkirk. You know that.” The tone was dry and detached. “Who’s your lady friend?”
    â€œThis is Minister Mortas. Ayliss, this is the best communications man the Force ever cashiered, Chris­tian Ewing.”
    â€œHello there. It’s nice to meet you.” Ayliss extended a hand, and Ewing swayed slightly when he reached for it.
    â€œI thought First Sergeant confiscated your smoking gear.” Selkirk’s comment caused Ewing to smile.
    â€œHe’s got his stashes, I have mine. Besides, McRaney always has a little something extra for me when he visits.”
    Ayliss flashed a meaningful look at Selkirk. Depending on the source, McRaney was either a violent smuggler or an out-­and-­out pirate. Either way, proof that he was working with the veterans could get the colony’s charter revoked. She decided to keep Ewing talking.
    â€œSo why did the Force get rid of its best commo man?”
    â€œA question I’ve asked myself many times. It’s not like I was the only guy in the fleet who enjoyed a bit of the herb. You know, I only started smoking to keep awake on radio watch. A night in space can last a long time . . . or maybe it never ends. Anyway, nobody cared until I started to ask if anybody else was hearing the music.”
    â€œMusic?”
    â€œYeah. Music. Like nothing I’d ever heard. Couldn’t tell if it was instrumental, or voices. Beautiful, amazing stuff. Didn’t hear it all the time, but every now and then it was like they were performing just for me.”
    â€œAnd how’s that? That they were doing it just for you?”
    â€œRadio watch that late at night, this far out in space—­who else was listening?” Ewing tilted his head back, studying the stars. In the distance, an ore transport blasted off from the