LITMIR.BIZ

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      Piehl came out from behind the bar. Things were moving, they were committed.

      "Lady Lociranou, could you get a current intelligence survey of activities for all the In-System Princes and Econo-Lords integrated for connection to the Dark Worlds? If His Highness has any trusted people out that way I want to know who they are. The Sufic can bring it back when he returns from the palace. Please ask him to err in the direction of more data than too little."

      She nodded, and began to speak quietly into her wrist unit. Not bad, Piehl thought. If she looked anything like she sounded, three and a half months on a small ship could get interesting.

      Sir, we have company, what looks like an Alpha-Prime Whistler," the Sergeant called over from the door.

      "See what he wants, Sergeant."

      The sergeant opened the door a crack, and after a moment's whispered conversation, turned and said with a grin, "I think you better talk to this one, sir. He says, among other things, he's an N - 1 Class Astrogator with military experience and a multi-math, to boot."

      "Bring him in, Sergeant."

      Through the door came the damndest collection of weird they'd ever seen, except Flex and Piehl. They’d served with Whistlers in the past. Those were memories he wasn't likely to forget.

      His/her/its appearance at first sight was of a five foot tall, long-haired rug, constructed on the basic human form: two arms, two legs and a sort of head. Closer inspection revealed many peculiarities.

      His whole body was covered with flexible quills, from which they got their name. When they move, the random quill motion created a soft, whistling sound. Quite pleasant when one got used to it.

      In the center of the head were two large, circular, expressive eyes with the feline vertical iris. The eyes extruded on flexible stalks to a distance of about six inches. Took getting use to, hearing beautifully articulated speech coming from their whole body.

      The quills covering the body were more than protective covering. Each individual strand was thick at the base, varying evenly out to microscopically thin at the tip. It was this characteristic which explained how Whistler produced sound.

      They had the unique ability to selectively vibrate each individual strand locally along its length from the base to tip. In this way they were able to produce an astounding variety of sound.

      It was said that when one has been around a Whistler for a while, you can read their emotional state from the waves and ripples moving over their bodies.

      On seeing Piehl the Whistler came directly forward with an easy rolling motion and stopped. He went to the attention form of highest respect, eye stalks extruded six inches and aimed at Piehl's chest.

      Then in ringing, sonorous tones; "I see thee, Colonel, Brevet Brigadier General, Sir Aubrey Jerrad Piehl, TSV Commanding, 3^rd Brigade of Marines, Mars Legion. He who would not retreat! He who would not surrender! I see thee.”

      The Sufic major stepped forward, removed the hood of his cloak and came to attention. He was followed by the Sergeant Major.

      Piehl found himself on his feet in front of them with the hair on his neck standing and a chill running through his body. It took a moment before he could speak.

      "Identify yourself, please."

      "Sir. I am Tsusurup Tsusurus Ing, former Battle Major, Senior Astrogator, 12^th Altair Flight Wing. We did not retreat! We did not surrender!" His voice boomed through the small room.

      "I see thee, Battle Major Ing." Piehl returned the salute. From a cold and distant place he came back to the present. His group and Piehl's had been the only ones who stayed behind at the end.

      "Stand easy, everyone. Gentlemen, join me at the bar." Piehl was shaken. "Flex, five large ones." When it was done he passed them around. The Sufic looked doubtful.

      "Religious scruples?" Piehl asked.

      "No, sir." He spoke for the first time. "I have never taken spirit with a general, sir."

      "Well, I'm not a general now and haven't been for a long time. I request it."

      They took the tall metal mugs in hand. "Raise them, gentleman." They drank the fiery liquid down and slammed the mugs hard on the bar.

      "Absent companions." The others repeated the toast after him. There was a long silence after the ancient warriors toast.

      "Alright, let's get back to business. First, Mister Ing, do you want in on our little party? The trip will be long, and more to the point, into the Dark Worlds."

      "Gen...sir, I'd sign with you on a one way trip to the Great Inversion."

      "Thank you, Mister Ing. I've already been,” Piehl said. "I'll not go that way again if I can help it. Here's a micro-core of the ship we're using. Get with Flex about the transfer of my ship's comp. Do it gently. IMP lives and he doesn't like ‘between ship’. Get familiar with the whole layout. I want to up-ship in a week. If you have any personal things that need to be handled, get it done quickly. And, Mister Ing, thank you again, I didn't get a chance at Vincent's."

      His eye stalks extended further as he spoke, "I see thee, General."

      "Hah! Hah!" A high pitched voice, all too familiar. "Well, I want to hear all about this! The infamous Sir Aubrey Piehl, here." There followed bubbles of laughter. "Mister Ing, please tell us all about you and Sir Aubrey. He's on my history disks."

      "There will be none of that! It is a closed subject, not to be opened by anyone. Understand me, Princess, I won't say it twice."

      The Princess grumbled.

      "Sir, may the Sergeant have permission to address the Gen...the Captain, sir?"

      "Rest, Sergeant Major. We're all civilians here, except the Sufic Major. Speak. You've done me service. What's your name, what do they call you?"

      "When I was in the Imperial Marines, I was called `The Fist’ as my given name is Elroy Hand, sir." He grinned easily. "There were other reasons, sir."

      Piehl laughed. "I imagine there were. What's on your mind, Sergeant?"

      "Sir, you'll be going out on a bit of a journey soon and the dice are in the other man's hand. You're short on crew and have no one to look after you, personal. You'll need someone to cover your a...pardon me, ladies…back." he blushed and glanced toward the women, "someone who's been there before.

      "I know what you're wondering; an old, crapped out, spice-gut marine might not be much use to you. Sir, when I cross ship's steel, I know what to do. I'm not as bad as I look. After I've walked the steel for a week I'll be prime."

      His voice was as close to pleading as a marine ever gets. Piehl knew he had another crew member. Well, if it came down to it, he was right. I do need an experienced...Hand.

      "Can you run a ship's weapons console, Sergeant Major?"

      "Aye, Captain."

      "Get your gear, Sergeant. Two shots of Un-spin. You'll need to be very fit. Bring your full kit if you still have it."

      The Sergeant Major came crashing to attention again and began to salute then, dropped his arm to his side.

      "I'm obliged, Captain, very obliged. Yes, sir," I have my ‘full kit’.”

      "You'll have to knock off the military crap, Sergeant. It makes me nervous. I keep waiting for Grand Admiral Bozeman-Keller to come through the door, fangs aimed at my delinquent…back."

      The sergeant chuckled. "You remember, sir."

      "Aye, I do. You go with Flex. He'll need help getting the refit underway. There's also a couple of special items on the list you can help with."

      "Aye, aye, General." He left with Flex.

      Oh well, Piehl thought, one can't re-educate an

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