pretty much on the dreadful side.
We were in the same Venusian joint in which Shane had met Varda that afternoon. It seemed that she was a singer there, and had been sitting around, just about to go to work, when Shane began shooting her a line and buying drinks.
Varda was just finishing her number as we came into the place. Her voice was pretty mediocre. But to Shane—who has the melody sense of an alarm siren—her voice was magnificent. We took a table near the bar and ordered a couple while watching her do the last chorus.
She spotted Shane almost instantly, and gave him a come-hither smile through the last notes of her tune. It was the same ditty that Shane had been ripping apart that afternoon.
"Whatdyuh think of her, Corky?" Shane asked, pleased as punch.
"She's a looker," I said noncommittally.
Then the girl was over at our table, and Shane was on his feet—something that amazed me—while he said,
"Varda, I'd like you to meet my best pal, Corporal Cork."
I noticed that Shane emphasized the Corporal part of it, while thrusting his tunic sleeve with its Sergeant's markings conspicuously before her eyes.
"How do you do, Corporal," Varda said, taking the chair Shane pulled out for her.
"Pleased to meetcha," I grunted and sat down.
"It must be simply wonderful to be soldiers," Varda cooed. I glared at her, and she hastily corrected, "I mean sailors."
"We're marines," I said caustically.
"But of course," Varda giggled prettily. "Marines."
There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence in which Shane glared at me as though I'd deliberately insulted the wench. Then Varda opened up again.
"Sergeant Shane was telling me this afternoon what important work his Admiral sends him on," she said.
Shane just about gagged on his drink. His little trip to the consulate was not supposed to have been for publication.
"Is that right?" I asked, looking over at my red-faced chum. "Do tell me more."
Shane broke in hastily.
"That was a pretty sweet number you just warbled, Varda," he said. "I was trying to remember it this afternoon."
Maybe it was because Shane had picked a beauty, and I was just the friend of the happy couple. Or maybe it was because I've never liked the slop they pass off for Venusian liquor. At any rate, I was feeling a little spiteful.
"Do you notice anything different about Sergeant Shane?" I asked her.
Varda looked puzzled.
"I mean, different from this afternoon. Around the head, for instance," I persisted.
Shane was redder than a fire-belt asteroid.
Varda suddenly squealed in delight.
"Shaaaaaneeeey," she cried. "You've plucked your eyebrows!"
My chum looked both pleased and embarrassed. Varda's voice had carrying power, and people at the other tables were looking over at us.
"I'll buy a drink," Shane blurted. Which shows how shaken he was.
WELL, a minute or so later Varda had to go back and do another number. That left us with a few things to talk about. Shane was first to clear his chest.
"Look," he snarled, waving a stubby finger at me. "I don't want no more cracks about me, y'unnerstand?"
"You're certainly a blazer," I coun-
