the necessity for talking.

"Feel it less! My God, listen to the man! What difference does it make
if you lie still or move around or even run around in the suns like a
bloody Greenback? Dust Bin will get you one way or another ... and if
it doesn't, the Rumi will."

The visible hand lifted the T-shirt and began to pop salt tablets into
an open mouth like they were so many peppermints.

"I wonder where Norton is. Out reviewing the troops?"

"Reviewing, my eye. He's up at Government House sitting in that cool
living room drinking one of Mrs. Wilson's icy drinks and admiring Mrs.
Wilson's shapely legs. From a discreet distance, of course. Being
temporary Commanding Officer of even Dust Bin has its privileges!"

There was a rattle of drums and the blare of one or two off-key
instruments from outside.

"Then why," asked Terrence, "are those poor beggars marching up and
down in this blasted heat?"

"The Greenbacks? They love it! It would take more than a little heat
to get under those inch-thick skins of theirs. They like to play
soldier when it's a hundred and thirty under water."

There were a few more straggling notes and then the semblance of a
march began.

"Listen to that, will you?" Fielding moaned, "They can't even keep
time with a drum! They can't march, they can't shoot, they can't break
down a Banning; they're all thumbs and six-inch thick skulls. 'Train
local forces to take over'! Bah! Did those desk jockeys back in New
Chicago ever see a Greenback? Did they ever try to teach a Narakan to
fix a bayonet to the proper end of a rifle or to fire a blaster in the
right direction?"

* * * * *

Terrence was lighting another cigarette with as little exertion as
possible. "Yes, but they keep trying. Ten hours a day. You don't have
to drive those boys. They want to learn. Listen to O'Shaughnessy
barking out orders."

"Sergeant Major O'Shaughnessy of the First Narakan Rifles!" Fielding
murmured sarcastically. "A year ago he was squatting in a mud cocoon
at the bottom of Suzi swamp with the rest of the frogs. Now he's got a
good Irish name and he's strutting around like a Martian Field
Marshal."

"I thought the names might give them a sense of self respect. Besides
we couldn't pronounce theirs and I was tired of hearing Norris yell
'Hey, greenboy!' at them."

"Well, they picked the right guy when they made you Training Officer.
You and those damn frogs get along like you ca