to guess and answer one of your questions," Sid rattled on. "Yes, I
knew Will Shakespeare--we were of an age--and he was such a modest,
mind-your-business rogue that we all wondered whether he really did
write those plays. Your pardon, 'faith, but that scratch might be looked
to."

Then I saw that the New Girl hadn't lost her head, but gone to Surgery
(Ugh!) for a first-aid tray. She reached a swab toward the New Boy's
sticky cheek, saying rather shrilly, "If I might ..."

Her timing was bad. Sid's last words and Erich's approach had darkened
the look in the young Soldier's face and he angrily swept her arm aside
without even glancing at her. Erich squeezed my arm. The tray clattered
to the floor--and one of the drinks that Beau was bringing almost
followed it. Ever since the New Girl's arrival, Beau had been figuring
that she was his responsibility, though I don't think the two of them
had reached an agreement yet. Beau was especially set on it because I
was thick with Sid at the time and Maud with Doc, she loving tough
cases.

"Easy now, lad, and you love me!" Sid thundered, again shooting Beau the
"Hold it" look. "She's just a poor pagan trying to comfort you. Swallow
your bile, you black villain, and perchance it will turn to poetry. Ah,
did I touch you there? Confess, you are a poet."

* * * * *

There isn't much gets by Sid, though for a second I forgot my psychology
and wondered if he knew what he was doing with his insights.

"Yes, I'm a poet, all right," the New Boy roared. "I'm Bruce Marchant,
you bloody Zombies. I'm a poet in a world where even the lines of the
King James and your precious Will whom you use for laughs aren't safe
from Snakes' slime and the Spiders' dirty legs. Changing our history,
stealing our certainties, claiming to be so blasted all-knowing and best
intentioned and efficient, and what does it lead to? This bloody SI
glove!"

He held up his black-gloved left hand which still held the mate and he
shook it.

"What's wrong with the Spider Issue gauntlet, heart of gold?" Sid
demanded. "And you love us, tell us." While Erich laughed, "Consider
yourself lucky, _Kamerad_. Mark and I didn't draw any gloves at all."

"What's wrong with it?" Bruce yelled. "The bloody things are both
lefts!" He slammed it down on the floor.

We all howled, we couldn't help it. He turned his back on us and stamped
off, though I guessed he would keep out of the Void. Erich squ