He paused. "From The Book of Origins, we know that long ago on Terra different religions fought each other, even massacred each other. Do they still?"

Hawkins smiled. "There's still some intolerance, but Terra got over most of it during the Troubles, eight hundred years ago. There hasn't been any serious violence since then. An occasional fistfight maybe. Intolerance tended to grow out of fear, and when a sect had the freedom to leave Terra and colonize a planet of their own, that fear became less. And the Commonwealth tries hard not to be overbearing toward the colonies."

He sipped the somewhat bitter Luneburgian "coffee" he'd learned to like. "I want to talk about the platoon now. You grew up differently than the other men. Do they ever give you a bad time about that?"

"Not really, Sergeant. Esau's commented a few times, as the fire team leader, that I need to be stronger and tougher. But he's never been mean about it. When someone's as strong as Esau, and runs as fast, they might not understand why others can't."

"Ah. That brings up another question: How do you feel about Jael Wesley showering with the men?"

Isaiah's face showed no embarrassment. "I've never heard anyone say anything about it. Though they might, a few of them, if it wasn't for Esau. I'm pretty sure they were troubled by it, early on. But what Captain Mulvaney said made sense. As boys we used to sport together in the river, naked as newborns, and hardly anyone fretted about that. We boys didn't." He spoke more slowly now, as if feeling his way into the subject. "But that is different from swimming naked with girls or women, because sight of their flesh can make you think about having carnal knowledge of them. Maybe want to have carnal knowledge of them. The thing is, here there's no choice. She's a soldier and part of the company, so she should have the same rights. Like I said, I've never heard any of the others talk about it, but I suspect that's pretty much how they look at it."

Hawkins sipped thoughtfully, then nodded. "Thank you, Vernon. You've helped me understand you people better." He got to his feet. "We seem to be done now. You can return to your hut. I may have more questions some other time."

Isaiah got up too. "Yes, Sergeant." He paused. "Sergeant, may I ask you a question?"

"Ask away."

"Do you Sikhs believe in Jesus?"

"Believe in Jesus? Yes, we do."

The trainee looked at his sergeant for a long second or two, his eye contact mild. "Thank you, Sergeant," he said, then turned and left.

Hawkins watched the door close, and smiled. You almost asked me whether we believe he's the Son of God, then thought better of it. The young Jerrie could have followed his answer-he was abundantly intelligent. But that very question, or rather Gopal Singh's reply to it, had split Sikhism even before the Troubles, the better part of a millennium earlier. Split it into the Orthodox and the Gopal Singh Dispensation. For Gopal Singh's answer had posited something akin to the Hindu avtarvad, which Guru Nanak himself had rejected in the Mul Mantra. Gopal Singh had tried to reconcile his belief with Orthodox leaders, but the split remained.

Shortly before lights out, it began to rain. Not a storm rain, but a steady soaker muttering on roof and walls, now and then intensifying briefly. At 2200 hours, Esau and Jael reported to the orderly room, wearing ponchos. The CQ issued each of them a shovel, a short crude ladder, and a six-foot measuring stick. And digging sites some fifteen yards apart. "No talking," he warned. "Just dig. I'll be checking on you out the window." Then he returned to the orderly room.

They dug as rapidly as they could sustain, if only to get more sleep time. Meanwhile the rain continued, and the CQ wasn't eager to come out in it. So when Esau's measuring rod indicated he was done, he tossed out his shovel, climbed wetly from the pit, and went over to Jael's. It wasn't quite as deep yet as she was tall. Without a word he jumped in. As in his, the water was about a foot deep.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He kissed her. She tasted like rain. "Come to help out," he said.

"The CQ-he'll see. You'll get in trouble."

"To heck with that. We're not only husband and wife, we're comrades in war. Besides, we're eight or ten rods from the orderly room, and it's darker than the inside of a black bull." Then he turned and began to dig. When they'd finished, the CQ still hadn't reappeared, so Esau climbed out and went to the orderly room to get him. The man lay his book aside. "That was quick," he said. "You sure you're done?"

"I'm sure I am," Esau answered. "I can't speak for anyone else."

The CQ donned his poncho and they went out to Esau's pit. Esau jumped in. Nearby, Jael's continued to emit shovelfuls of dirt and slop. Taking Esau's measuring stick, the Terran measured height, width, and depth.

"Looks good," he said. "You're done." Then bypassing the ladder, the corporal squatted, reached down a hand, and hauled him out. Esau was impressed. Stronger than I thought, he told himself.

They headed for Jael's pit. "Quit throwing a minute," the CQ called. "It may be deep enough." He measured. "Good job both of you. Fill them and tramp them, and you're done. Tramp them every foot or so the whole way. I'll know if you don't, and you don't want to do the whole thing over again tomorrow night."

She came up on her ladder, to see the corporal striding off toward the orderly room. Filling the pits was far easier than digging them had been, and they worked hard and fast. When both pits were full and well tramped, the rain-sodden couple went to the orderly room together.

"All done," Esau announced.

The corporal donned his poncho again, went out with them to inspect the sites, then dismissed them to their hut.

On their way, Esau spoke. "You know," he said innocently, "we've already lost half our sleep time. We might as well lose another half hour, and go shower off."

She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him thoroughly. "That's a wonderful idea," she said.

In their hut, they hung their wet things on the drying rack-the clothes from the pond were already dry-put their cold wet ponchos on their bare bodies, and ran to the latrine. After a shower, a hot one, they turned the water off and made joyous love on the duck boards before scurrying back to the hut for three hours of sleep.

Contract

Dr. Deborah Coonoor arrived at Bangui International Aerospaceport with zero fanfare, her visit and its possible importance publically unknown. Her welcoming committee consisted of one very tall person, Dr. Issa Libengi, who stood in the air-conditioned reception area holding a sign with her name on it. His grin was an expanse of white in a truly black face.

Weaving her way through the crowd, Dr. Coonoor herself was dark enough not to be conspicuous: a glowing mahogany. Her raven-black hair, however, was simply wavy. Her father was from Mysore State, in the south of India; her caramel-colored mother was "black English": Celto-Saxon/Caribbean/Brazilian.

When she reached Dr. Libengi, she extended a slender hand, which he carefully wrapped in his much larger one. "Ms. Coonoor, I presume," he rumbled. "I hope your flight was agreeable."

She laughed. "It was. Although I confess to being mystified by lunch. I'm unfamiliar with African cuisines."

He took her bag; emergency items in case of delay. She expected to be on her way back to Kunming before evening. Away from the gate area, they followed the flow toward the rotunda. "I was impressed by the flight," she said. "I'd never seen Central Africa before. Even from five thousand feet, your rainforest looks impressive. I grew up in Brazil you know."

"Seen from within the forest, it is even more remarkable. An invertebrate zoologist like yourself would find your interest quite stimulated, as mine was by your call-more by what you didn't say than by what you did."