here. I probably dropped the ID in the parking lot, can I pleaseââ
âNo need,â he said imperiously, his voice full of the kind of threat sheâd heard parents use on children telling improbable lies. âIâll call up his unit to check. Alpha Company, you said?â
âIâm sure that wonât be necessary, if youâd justââ
âWhoâs his commanding officer?â
âI donât know, heâs a medic, heâs supposed to replaceââ
âGreat, Iâll call the clinic. Wait there.â
He disappeared into what looked like an administration office. She plopped down on the plastic chair beside the plywood door, fourteen years old again and waiting while the principal called her house to report on her poor behavior. Back then she could usually count on her dad forgetting the conversation by the time she got home. She had a feeling Chanceâs memory was a lot longer.
She dropped her face into her hands. She shouldâve known she couldnât handle any kind of normal existence, especially one entwined in the intricacies of military custom. She shouldâve stayed in Kansas City, tending bar and shopping at midnight and leaving poor Chance McKinley well enough alone.
âLook, can you just give me a referral slip? Itâs a medical thing that needs to be seen by a doctor, I promise.â
Chance leaned back in his chair, trying to keep a straight face as he regarded the nervous private across the table. âAnd what reason should I put on the slip?â
âPersonal problem.â
âI need more detail than that, Greene. How do I know whether to send you to a shrink or a proctologist?â
The young man shifted in his chair. âI need a doctor. This canât be handled by the unit.â
âAs much as I admire your confidence in your self-diagnosis, I think you should probably tell me exactly what medical issue weâre dealing with.â
Private Greene looked down at the floor, up at the fluorescent lamp, and finally at a point halfway across the table. âItâs my dick, sir. It burns when I piss, and thereâs this dischargeââ
âOkay, you donât need a doctor.â Chance swiveled to retrieve a sterile cup from the cabinet at his back, removed the plastic packaging and handed it over. âItâs probably an STD, but Iâll need a urine sample to be sure.â
The private stared at the proffered cup like it was alien technology. Chance rolled his eyes.
âPee in this and bring it back. Bathroomâs down the hall.â
Wordlessly the private accepted the cup and scurried out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Chance sighed heavily as he started filling out the notes on the visit, then glanced at the clock. Fifteen more minutes and his shift was over. Thank God. He hated working sick call.
âHey, Sergeant?â The E-4 on duty with him leaned into the room. âThereâs a weird call from the commissary for you. Something about your wife?â
âMy wife?â
âApparently they need you to head on over there. I told âem I didnât think you were married, but the guy said you need to come over in person to verifyââ
âCan you do me a favor and finish up with Private Greene? Heâs got the clap. Iâll relieve you fifteen minutes early when we serve range duty tomorrow.â
âDonât even worry about that, just let me know youâve got everything sorted out. Are you really married?â
âYeah. Itâs kind of a recent thing.â
The younger manâs brow creased. âDoes this mean we canât play pool at Rockâs on ladiesâ night anymore?â
âIâll call you later.â He patted his distraught colleague on the back, edged past a bewildered Private Greene toting a full cup and jogged down the corridor to the parking lot.
It was only a