Free Starfist: Blood Contact by David Sherman & Dan Cragg Page A

me Hammer until they earn the right to call me Hammer. And you ain't earned that right yet. Who you callin' ‘sonny’ anyway, Corporal?
    I've seen your ribbons. You ain't been in half the shit old Dean-o here's been in."
    "I'm an NCO, Schultz—" Pasquin began.
    "Yeah," Schultz answered, "and that's all you are for now. Just remember, you fuck with old Dean-o here and you fuck with me." With that Schultz left.
    "Sheez," Pasquin said, shaking himself, "that guy's had too much to drink. I'll talk to the gunny about him."
    "Won't do any good," Godenov said. "He and Bass are tight. Why, on Elneal—"
    "Oh, shut up, ‘Not Good Enough’!" Pasquin almost shouted. "I don't need advice from a PFC! Man, how'd I ever get stuck with you two birds? I never seen such a collection of asshole buddies—"
    "Corporal," Dean said, "you ever make a remark like that again about any man in this outfit and they'll have to feed you through your asshole from then on, 'cause that's how far down your throat I'm gonna shove your teeth."
    Pasquin blanched. "Dean, threatening a noncommissioned officer is a court-martial offense!"
    "I don't give a damn. Corporal, you've been on my case from the first day you got here, and I don't know why. But I am getting sick of you and your smart mouth. Just lay off me, okay?" Calmly, Dean picked up his beer glass and drained it. Pasquin stared at Dean. Godenov meanwhile stared at Pasquin, a huge grin on his face. Without another word, Pasquin got up and left the table.
    "Jeez," Godenov sighed, "you're off to a good start with our new fire team leader!"
    Dean considered that for a moment. He was frankly surprised at himself; it was the first time he had ever mouthed off to a superior in the Corps. Pasquin was a corporal and his fire team leader, but Pasquin had been way out of line with his remarks. Godenov was witness to that if it came to a captain's mast.
    Dean doubted it would, but he didn't know Pasquin well enough yet.
    And Hammer! Dean had always felt a bit wary of Schultz, the no-nonsense combat veteran. But Schultz had told Pasquin, "You fuck with old Dean-o and you fuck with me," and, "You ain't been in half the shit old Dean-o here's been in." Those remarks did for Dean's self-respect what no medal given by the commandant himself could ever do.
    "Izzy, why the hell is that guy on my ass?" Dean asked. "I can't figure it."
    "Simple, Joe, he's jealous."
    Dean looked sharply at Godenov. "Jealous?"
    "Yeah. You're only a lance corporal but you got it through a meritorious promotion given by the brigadier himself, and you got a hero medal and he doesn't, and you been in a real war and he hasn't.
    Also," he leaned close and whispered, "he wants Erika real bad, an' she won't have a thing to do with the bastard."
    Dean started. He remembered the night he'd had the fight with the sailor and what Erika had told him about Pasquin at the time. But he could not understand how anybody could be jealous of medals and promotions.
    "Well, he'll just have to remain jealous," Dean replied, and that settled the matter—for the time being.
    Corporal Raoul Pasquin sauntered disconsolately down the street. That he'd left the platoon party early would be noted, but he didn't care. He hadn't volunteered for duty with the 34th and he didn't want to be on Thorsfinni's World. Mentally he kicked himself. He should never have let that wiseass Dean get the better of him. But he had been out of line, Pasquin admitted at least that to himself. And that damn Schultz! A "professional PFC," not afraid of anybody because he wasn't going anywhere in the Corps except maybe back to private, and that didn't bother a guy like him.
    Now he'd gone and violated etiquette by stomping out of the party early. Bass would have him in his office first thing Monday morning. I better get my pussy layin' on my back from now on because I can only screw up! he thought wryly. He stopped. That was a thought. There was a place on the other side of town—and that