Free Outland by Alan Dean Foster Page A

he spoke. "The second time I did a tour, I came home and found that my wife had skipped off with some guy who's a computer programmer. Little fishy-looking twit who's losing his hair." O'Niel studied him.
    "I have two daughters," Montone went on, chewing a piece of real steak. "They call the programmer 'daddy.' My wife said she was happy. The guy looks so boring! She said he may not be Mr. Excitement, but he was home all the time." He hesitated, looked down toward the floor.
    "Can't argue with that." He pushed the big tray toward O'Niel. "Try the food . . . it's not that bad. The Admin kitchen here is pretty good. A lot better than some I've tried. Sometimes they even get real meat." He gestured at the plates. "Sheppard busts his butt to get the top people the best. You can say that for him." If he was waiting for a reaction from O'Niel he was disappointed.
    "The steak's real. Give it a shot."
    "I will."
    Montone continued to speak without meeting O'Niel's eyes. "You know, the hookers here are nice. Io's got a tough rep for duty but a good one for off-time. Sometimes when you're lonely, they can help. Most of them are good at what they do, and they're all Company okay'd."
    "I'm sure."
    There was a period of quiet while Montone nibbled at his portion. After a while he looked up.
    "You want to play cards?" He grinned. "I cheat. Except I cheat so badly you can catch me."
    "No, thank you."
    Montone looked disappointed. "I get the feeling I'm bombing."
    "No." O'Niel tried to sound grateful. "I really appreciate what you're doing. I really do. It's just . . . it's just that I would like to be alone right now."
    Montone rose from the chair. "I understand, Marshal." He started for the door. "I'll handle the next shift reports and make up the duty roster. You want to check it? I can put a copy through your monitor." He gestured toward the computer console in the corner. O'Niel simply shook his head.
    "Not necessary, Sargeant."
    "All right. If you need anything. If you just want to talk . . . please call me." He smiled. "My rates are pretty reasonable."
    "Thank you. I mean it."
    "Screw it." He nodded toward the still steaming tray of food. "You can have the chocolate Cake. I'm on a diet." He dosed the door quietly as he left.
    O'Niel was smiling as his subordinate departed. The smile was for the benefit of a concerned friend, however, and was less than genuine. It faded rapidly once Montone was gone.
    His gaze traveled down to the table and the food waiting there. Montone had gone out of his way to make the meal sound appetizing, but O'Niel didn't want to touch it.
    Like a wind-up toy he stood, moved to the console, switched on one of the monitors, and entered a command.
    O'NIEL, W.T. PLAYBACK WEDNESDAY TRANSMISSIONS
    The screen flickered. The message request vanished to be replaced by the mechanical reply.
    O'NIEL, W.T. AFFIRMATIVE. REPLAY WEDNESDAY TRANSMISSIONS
    An image solidified on the screen, became Montone.
    "Marshal, we got a response on your request . . ."
    O'Niel touched another control. The picture speeded into comedy, the sound turning to high-pitched gibberish. The squeaky wail slowed as a tone sounded and O'Niel's finger moved across another control.
    A new face appeared. "Marshal," the portrait said, "it's Caldwell in West Security. We got a small problem here, nothing serious, but I just wanted to get your opinion on it before we proc . . ."
    Again the previous stud cut off the chatter in midsentence, again the recording fast-forwarded to finish with a signaling tone. Down went the second control.
    Carol's face appeared. "I . . . I'm trying to keep my composure and . . . and like everything else I do . . . I think I'm messing this up."
    O'Niel sat down in the chair and stared fixedly at the screen, as attentive as though he were seeing it for the first time.
    "I despise these message things," Carol was saying, the words bouncing around inside O'Niel's skull. "I . . . I'm just such a coward. I couldn't stand there in