Free Hero! by Dave Duncan Page B

if you don’t want to. Have you ever had a woman?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Now he thinks he is blushing. Krantz!
    “But not often? Not often for a healthy boy of twenty-two? An unusually powerful, intelligent, and reasonably good-looking boy?”
    “Maybe not, ma’am.” Did it once, ma’am. On a bet, ma’am. The others said I couldn’t, ma’am. Showed them I could, ma’am. Fuck your own minding business, ma’am .
    She looks down at her com and says, “Boys, ever? Voluntarily, I mean—I know what happens to recruits in Doggoth.”
    “No, ma’am.” That would be even more disgusting.
    She nods to the machine, and he is surprised to realize that she is embarrassed, and doesn’t want this conversation any more than he does.
    “That’s what the numbers say. That you’re physically capable if it, but your id…your drive is almost non…is low. You know about ‘stiffener’?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” After lights-out, the talk is almost all about what the recruits will do with stiffener when they get back to the real world. The girls’ version is called “loosener.” He’s heard of little else for five years.
    “I’m going to give you some advice, Crewboy,” she tells her hands, “as I don’t suppose anyone else ever will, and a machine medic won’t volunteer information. Most spacers add about three units a day to their booster. The machines know what you want if you ask for stiffener. Four or even five units for parties—maybe. Despite any stories you may have heard, almost no one takes more than that. Six or seven make a boy a human goat—he’ll go after everyone and everything, including the canary. Someone usually shoots him in self-defense. Understand?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Vaun is certain he is blushing all the way down to his groin. Blushing, after five years in Doggoth!
    “For you I would prescribe an initial dose of ten.”
    “ Ma’am? ”
    “You can experiment, but my guess is that seven will put you at about civilian standard and you’ll need ten or so to be a normal, obnoxiously raunchy spacer. Twelve for parties.”
    He nods, wondering why he feels insulted and angry.
    She gives him a real smile, and very white teeth flash in her very black face. “It adds to life, Crewboy. Believe me, you’ll like it.”
    She slides the handcom into her pocket and turns away. “Prior did it,” she says over her shoulder as she goes to the door. “It was the only way he could pass. Put your pants on and come out here.”
     
    T HERE WAS NO stiffener available in Forhil. There was no booster of any kind. The medical stood silent and dark, and nothing Vaun tried would activate it.
    Well, he wouldn’t be staying long, and one day without booster wouldn’t hurt. His metabolism was vastly superior to most, and he wouldn’t lose much of his edge in one day. It would soon return. A day without stiffener might even be advisable, as he hadn’t replaced Lann yet, but he knew that girls would soon start eyeing him oddly and the boys would catch on a day or two later. A spacer not on the make was not normal.
    There would be dreams, too.
    He had showered and shaved, and donned fresh clothes delivered by Zozo herself. Then he had gone to the medical, intending to have a full checkup, because of the battering he had endured in ejecting from the torch. Staring in baffled anger at the mass of useless, shiny junk, he resigned himself to bearing his bruises until he got back to Valhal.
    But of course the bruises were not his real concern. In truth, he had been rattled by seeing Zozo’s disintegration. He found that insight distasteful. How did a boy feel when at last he heard the warning—that inevitable warning—about increasing his daily dose of preservative?
    How old was Tham?
    How old was he?
    Ruefully he recalled Maeve’s shrewish comment the previous night about his not being recognized at the party. What she had been hinting was that Admiral Vaun, famous hero, was ancient history now. Probably none