Slingshot | Page 6

reveling in the sheer contentment of being
back safe.
It wasn't until he got back to his stall, and started to write his father a
long overdue letter, that he remembered he had heard Kovacs say he
was going on leave.
When he finished the letter, he opened the copy of "Lady Chatterley's
Lover" he had borrowed from Rodriguez's limited but colorful library.
He couldn't keep his mind on it. He kept thinking of the armament
officer.
Kovacs was a quiet, intelligent kid, devoted to his work. Coulter wasn't
too intimate with him. He wasn't a spaceman, for one thing. One of
those illogical but powerful distinctions that sub-divided the men of the
station. And he was a little too polite to be easy company.

Paul remembered the time he had walked into the Muroc Base Officer's
Club with Marge Halpern on his arm. The hunger that had lain
undisguised on Kovacs' face the moment he first saw them. Marge was
a striking blonde with a direct manner, who liked men, especially orbit
station men. He hadn't thought about the incident since then, but the
look in Kovacs' eyes kept coming back to him as he tried to read.
He wasn't sure how he got there, or why, when he found himself
walking into Colonel Silton's office to ask for the leave he'd passed up
at his fiftieth mission. He'd considered taking it several times, but the
thought of leaving the squadron, even for a couple of weeks, had made
him feel guilty, as though he were quitting.
Once he had his papers, he started to get excited about it. As he cleaned
up his paper work and packed his musette, his hands were fumbling,
and his mind was full of Sylvia.
* * * * *
The vastness of Muroc Base was as incredible as ever. Row on
uncounted row of neat buildings, each resting at the top of its own
hundred-yard deep elevator shaft. A pulsing, throbbing city, dedicated
to the long slow struggle to get into space and stay there. The service
crew eyed them with studied indifference, as they writhed out of the
small hatch and stepped to the ground. They drew a helijet at
operations, and headed immediately for Los Angeles.
Kovacs had been impressed when Paul asked if he'd care to room
together while they were on leave. He was quiet on the flight, as he had
been on the way down, listening contentedly, while Paul talked combat
and women with Bob Parandes, another pilot going on leave.
They parked the helijet at Municipal Field and headed for the public
PV booths, picking up a coterie of two dogs and five assorted children
on the way. The kids followed quietly in their wake, ecstatic at the
sight of their uniforms.
Paul squared his shoulders, as befitted a hero, and tousled a couple of

uncombed heads as they walked. The kids clustered around the booths,
as Kovacs entered one to locate a hotel room, and Paul another, to call
Sylvia.
"Honey, I've been so scared you weren't coming back. Where are you?
When will I see you? Why didn't you write?..." She sputtered to a stop
as he held up both hands in defense.
"Whoa, baby. One thing at a time. I'm at the airport. You'll see me
tonight, and I'll tell you the rest then. That is, if you're free tonight. And
tomorrow. And the day after, and the day after that. Are you free?"
Her hesitation was only momentary. "Well, I was going out--with a girl
friend. But she'll understand. What's up?"
He took a deep breath. "I'd like to get out of the city for a few days,
where we can take things easy and be away from the crowds. And there
is another guy I'd like to bring along."
"We could take my helijet out to my dad's cottage at--What did you
say?"
It was a ticklish job explaining about Kovacs, but when she understood
that he just wanted to do a friend a favor, and she'd still have Paul all to
herself, she calmed down. They made their arrangements quickly, and
switched off.
He hesitated a minute before he called Marge. She was quite a dish to
give up. Once she'd seen him with Sylvia, he'd be strictly persona non
grata--that was for sure. It was an unhappy thought. Well, maybe it
was in a good cause. He shrugged and called her.
She nearly cut him off when she first heard his request, but he did some
fast talking. The idea of several days at the cottage intrigued her, and
when he described how smitten Kovacs had been, she brightened up
and agreed to come. He switched off, adjusted the drape of his genuine
silk scarf, and stepped out of the booth.

Kovacs