Free Starfist: Wings of Hell by David Sherman & Dan Cragg

Claypoole abruptly leaped to his feet and bolted toward the restroom. He was gone for nearly ten minutes. When he came back his face was obviously scrubbed, and the chest area of his shirt was wet.
    “Barf?” Schultz asked when Claypoole sat back down.
    Claypoole nodded. “Where’s a corpsman when you need one?” he asked.
    “You can go without,” Kerr told him. “That’ll teach you not to get so shitfaced.” He saw the look that Schultz gave him, and added, “Or maybe not.”

CHAPTER SIX

    Sonia Motlaw, special envoy from Wanderjahr, sat comfortably in the Company L orderly room waiting for Corporal Dean to arrive. She regarded Captain Conorado silently. He had the rugged, athletic look she prized in a man. His office, like that of the FIST commander, was devoid of any personal items save a small hologram of what appeared to be himself and his family, which sat on one corner of his desk.
    “I was told not to ask you what you’re here for, ma’am,” Conorado began. “I was told you would not be staying long.”
    “Please, ‘Sonia.’” She smiled. “Yes, I’m returning to New Oslo tonight. My message for Corporal Dean is personal and my instructions were not to reveal its contents to anyone. But I assure you, Captain—”
    “‘Lew,’ then, if you please.” Conorado smiled.
    “—Lew, that it in no way constitutes an embarrassment to Dean or your Corps. I don’t have to tell you how much we Wander-jahrians appreciate what your Marines did for us during your deployment to our world. I also want to assure you—Ye gods, what in the hell is that ?” she screamed, rising halfway out of her seat and pointing at the corner of the room. Her face had turned ghastly pale.
    Conorado looked up to where she was pointing and he half expected to see an apparition. “Oh, that.” He smiled. “That’s only Owen. He’s a Woo. He perches on the top of that locker when I have strangers in here. He likes to size them up, so to speak, from that vantage point. We Marines believe in seizing the high ground whenever we can.”
    “Good God, Lew.” Sonia laughed nervously, her face turning from pale with fright to red with embarrassment. “I thought it was a ghost, shimmering away up there like that. What is that thing?”
    “Woos are native to Diamunde. We deployed there some years ago. Corporal Dean, actually, brought him back here with him and he’s become our company mascot. We named him Owen. Ask Dean to tell you how they met. Fascinating story. He almost got us all court-martialed on another occasion when a scientist wanted to take him from us for vivisectioning and Dean threatened to shoot her.” He chuckled. “One thing about that lad, Sonia, he’s a tough Marine, and he knows what’s right—and he isn’t afraid to act on it.”
    “Hello, Owen.” Sonia waved at the Woo. “Are they sentient?” she asked.
    “No,” Conorado replied, a bit too quickly, Sonia thought. “Well, nobody knows, actually. They can sense moods in humans and express their own moods by changing colors, like chameleons. I think he likes you.”
    Someone knocked twice on the door. “That should be our man. Come,” Conorado responded.
    Dean strode into the room, came to attention, and saluted. “Sir, Corporal Dean—”
    “No need for that, Corporal. Come over here and meet this lady.”
    Sonia rose smoothly, walked over to Dean, who was still at rigid attention, and held out her hand to him. “Corporal Dean, my name is Sonia Motlaw. I’m a special envoy from Wanderjahr. I’ve come a long way to see you. I have a message for you from Hway Kuetgens.” She smiled that enchanting smile.
    “Hway?” Dean glanced at Captain Conorado, who just nodded silently. “Hway?” he repeated, swallowing hard. “How is she?” The question sounded very awkward to Dean as his mind raced back to their parting, he to return to duty, she to take over the government of Morgenluft, their short, passionate relationship ending almost before