Amersy was sitting in one of the red chairs beside him. The corporal's white cheek had turned gray; both eyes were badly bloodshot. He was holding a chilpak across his forehead. His shoulders were trembling.

Lewis, Odel, Karl and Dennis were in the seats beside him; Odel with his right hand swallowed by a blue field-aid sheath, Karl with a busted nose and blood on his lips and chin. Edmond was lying on the floor, curled up at Karl's feet.

"Ho shit," Lawrence croaked. "What—"

"We got webbed," Lewis muttered. "The owner called the cops."

"Oh great." He paused, pulling down some more air. "Everyone okay?"

"Sure. We were kicking some serious butt in there till our own cavalry came over the hill and shot us. Fuck. I mean, whose side are they on?"

Lawrence wasn't going to give any sort of answer to that "What's our status?"

"The kid's in with the doc right now." Amersy jerked his thumb toward the curtained-off cubicles at the back of the room. "Nothing bad, at least not broken. And we're on notified restraint until the medics clear us."

"Great." He looked round to see if there was some sort of pillow he could rest his head on. "Where's Jones?"

"Christ knows."

"That's good. He'll make his own way back." The effort of talking and thinking was incredibly tiring. "Let me know when it's my turn." He lowered his head back onto the carpet tiles again.

The nurse was surprisingly sympathetic. Lawrence had no idea what time it was when he was finally called into a cubicle to be assessed and cleaned up. Very early morning, he guessed.

She scanned the side of his head where the bump was, and the medical AS decided he wasn't concussed. "But I'll get a human doctor to examine the image when we've one free," she told him. "Just to be on the safe side."

"Thanks."

"It'll be a while. They're a bit busy right now." She laid him on his side and pulled the grubby T-shirt over his head.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't start it. Did you?"

"No. But I should have realized it was inevitable."

She started squirting some kind of cool cleaning liquid on his lump. Lawrence grunted at the sharp sting.

"Any fool could have told you that."

"I'm not just any fool, I'm supposed to be in charge."

"In charge, huh?" A gauze napkin was dabbed on his skin, soaking up the excess liquid.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I don't suppose you've got anything for my headache, have you?"

"Headache or hangover?"

"Both. And they really don't like sharing space."

"Not surprised. Hold that." She took his hand and pressed it against the napkin. He could just see her shoes as she walked over to a wall cabinet.

"Anyone badly hurt?" he asked.

"Us or you?"

"Just anyone."

"Three deep stab wounds. One emergency regenerative procedure, a girl's face was cut up—"

"Aw shit."

"—several broken bones. And that electrocution weapon of yours has left a lot of people very shaky. Nobody dead, though. I suppose we should be grateful for small mercies." She handed him a couple of purple capsules and a glass of water. "Take these."

He swallowed them automatically. Only afterward did he realize how trusting he'd been. Strategic security policy was quite strict on receiving externalmedical assistance, especially in nonlethal situations.

The curtain was shoved back, and Captain Bryant stormed in. He was in full uniform, the light mauve fabric showing up his anger-heated skin. "There you are, Newton."

"Excuse me," the nurse said. "I'm treating this man."

"He's cured." Bryant held the curtain open for her. "That will be all."

She gave him an indignant look and walked out.

"Would you care to explain, Sergeant?"

"Sir?"

"What the hell happened tonight? I let you out for a quiet drink and the next thing I know you're restaging Santa Chico."

"There was some kind of argument. About a girl, I think. It sprang from that."

"Then it damn well shouldn't have sprang. For God's sake, you're supposed to stop this kind of thing."

"I wasn't actually there, sir. Otherwise I would have."

"You should have been there. You're their sergeant. I depend on you to keep order."

"We were off duty."

"Don't even start pulling that one on me. There's a damn sight more to your job than official duties, and you know it. And if you don't, you shouldn't have those stripes."

"Sir," Lawrence grunted with extreme petulance. If he hadn't been so unstable he would have said fuck it and simply smacked Bryant one.

"Now where is Jones?'

"Sir?"

"Jones Johnson. Remember him?"

"I thought he'd gone back to barracks."

"He hasn't reported in, and the police didn't take him into custody with the rest of you. Where is he?"

"I don't know, sir. Have you checked the hospital?"

"Of course I have."

Lawrence rubbed at his eyes. The capsules seemed to be having some effect. At least the nausea was fading. But he felt desperately tired. "Officially he doesn't have to report back until oh-six-hundred hours, sir."

"Don't play it smart with me, Sergeant, you don't have the IQ to pull it off. Jones is the only person unaccounted for, and he's under my command. Have you any idea how badly all this reflects on me? After this total debacle, I don't want further loose ends. Do you understand that?"

"What I'm saying, sir, is that if he got out from the fight before the police arrived, then he's probably with a girl."

"He'd better be. I want you to take that shambles you call a platoon back to barracks right away. You're on double house duties, and any breakages from the Junk Buoy will be met out of your pay. I shall also be loading an official reprimand onto your record. Now get your act together, Newton."

The curtain was tugged back forcefully as the captain strode out.