Sidney's Comet by Brian Herbert Page B

“Dreamer’s Lullaby,” one of the new restful background tunes. The smell of perspiring bodies wafted across his nostrils.
    “Hey Tom!” the voice came from above. Javik looked up, saw the goggled, ruddy face of Brent Stafford smiling down over the edge of a thud-level tanning slab. “I saved you a place!” Stafford motioned for Javik to come up.
    Javik stepped onto the clanking conveyor lift, rode it to a third level ramp. From there it was only a few short steps to the tanning slab beside Stafford. Javik removed his towel, donned a pair of goggles and dropped face down onto the warm, clear glass of the slab. Heat lamps all around warmed his body, soaking into every aching muscle. “Ah!” Javik sighed. “That feels good!”
    Stafford turned to face Javik, peering through his goggles as he asked, “When’s the big reunion?”
    “Saturday night.” Javik focused upon body smells carried by a downdraft.
    “Twentieth, isn’t it?”
    “Uh huh. Old PS. five-oh-two. Be nice to see the bunch again . . . Charlie, Bob, Sidney. . . . Hey, I wonder if Sidney ever permied up with Carla. . . .”
    Stafford sat up, sprayed water over his body with a passing porta-shower. “You know, Tom,” he said, measuring his words carefully, “You’d do well to watch that temper. With good behavior, I’ve heard it said you can get another commission.”
    “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Javik shifted on his belly, turned his face away from Stafford.
    “Could have been worse, buddy. You might have been court-martialed and shot for that . . . but they took your war record into account.”
    “Am I supposed to thank them for that? Hell, they should thank me . . . and you too . . . for what we did.”
    “You’ve got to see their point of view.”
    “Their point of view?” Javik felt rage rising inside. “I belted that wet-behind-the-ears gay major after you and I were almost shot down by an Atheist fighter squadron!”
    “They don’t see any justification for hitting an officer, Tom. You know that.”
    “We saved two base ships with a little initiative, and that armchair fairy read us out for not getting the proper authorizations!”
    “I know, I know.” Stafford sounded sleepy.
    “Now it’s happening again, Staf. That damned garbage shuttle’s driving me crazy.”
    Stafford turned to his back. “You’re right. I can’t argue with a word. But we’ve got to use our brains . . . you know, play their silly games a little.”
    “We bust our asses and what do we get? Some creep spouting off about rules and procedures! Well for Christ’s sake! I’m a Star Class Captain, not a stinking garbage shuttle pilot!” Javik paused, breathing hard, turned to face Stafford. “Get the hell off my case, will ya, Staf ?”
    “Damn you!” Stafford said. His creased face stiffened. “I’m trying to help you, you hothead! Can’t you see that?”
    “I don’t need your help!”
    “Yeah? Then get the hell away from me!”
    Javik rose with his towel. “You’re a little old lady, Staf. Always telling me the safest things to do, aren’t you? Well, I’ve had enough! DO YOU HEAR ME? ENOUGH!”
    “Everybody in the place hears you,” Stafford sneered.
    Javik turned without another word and stalked off. Pleasure domes, he thought. Maybe a forest maiden will calm me . . . .

    Sidney did not have to look at his watch to know it was time for the second afternoon coffee break. He was already nearing the elevator bank when the bell rang. Carla waited in the elevator as usual, holding the door open. Sidney rolled on without a word.
    “Perfect timing again,” Carla said as the doors whooshed shut. She placed both hands in the pockets of her carmine red pantsuit and mentoed: Sub-nine-sixty-six, Presidential override. Code twenty-four.
    “That Presidential override is nice,” Sidney said, knowing what she had done. “Our car used to stop at every floor before you got it.”
    “Just don’t tell anyone about it,” she said focusing on