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Can't tell you about it now, but it's going to mean an important break for us." It was then that the door announced, "Major Joseph Mauser, calling on Fredric Soligen." Joe Mauser shook hands with the Telly reporter in an abrupt, impatient manner. Freddy said, "Major, I'd like to introduce my son, Samuel. Sam, this is Major Joe Mauser.
Now Joe said to the Telly reporter, "That's right, Captain Mauser. Acting major, in this fracas, ah " "Freddy. Freddy Soligen. You remember me, captain " "Of course I do, Freddy. We've been in the dill, side by side, more than once, and even when I was too scared to use my side arm, you'd be scanning away with your camera." "Ha ha, listen to the captain, folks. I hope my boss is tuned in.
"You must tell that, some time, to a jungle animal being attacked by a lion." "Oh, you're impossible!" When Freddy Soligen entered his living room, he automatically switched off the Telly screen which was the entire north wall. The room's lights automatically went brighter. His perpetual air of sour cynicism was absent as he chuckled to the room's sole inhabitant, "What!
Perhaps the commission will find that the use of the glider is permitted for observation, however, it is obvious that before the year 1900 by no stretch of the imagination could it be contended that they were, or could have been, used for, say, bombing." He turned quickly and pointed at Freddy Soligen, who, already seated in the sailplane, was watching them, his face not revealing his qualms.
We're in this for Number One, Joe Mauser, and Number Two, Freddy Soligen." Joe put away the greater part of his drink. "Sure, sure, sure. But where are we now? Your campaign has been in full swing for months. What's accomplished?" The small Telly reporter was indignant. "What's accomplished? We've got three Major Joe Mauser buff clubs in full swing and five more starting up.
Joe Mauser's mind was working now, but he held silence. Freddy Soligen went on, "Your typical fracas buff, glued to his Telly set, wants two things. First, lots of gore, lots of blood, lots of sadistic thrill. And the Lower-Lower lads, who are silly enough to get into the Military Category for the sake of glory or the few shares of common stock they might secure, provide that gore.
Cogswell flicked the baton, in his nonchalant answer to salute. "That will be all, then, major." Freddy Soligen wasn't at home when Joe Mauser called. The Category Military officer was met, instead, by young Sam Soligen, clothed this day in the robes of a novitiate of the Temple. Joe remembered now that Freddy had mentioned the boy in training in Category Religion.
We're going to have to bribe my colleagues, the Telly camera crews, to keep you on lens when you're looking good, and, more important still, off it when you're not. We're going to have to spend every credit you've got." "I see," Joe said. "And when it's all been accomplished, what do you get out of this, Freddy?" Freddy Soligen laid it on the line.
Instead, he sweated it out alone, helped only by Max Mainz who was being somewhat huffy about this Telly reporter taking over his position as observer. They approached the sailplane, and while Joe Mauser checked it out, in careful detail, Freddy Soligen and Max began loading the equipment into the graceful craft's second seat, immediately behind the pilot.
But he rejected this trend of thought and brought his attention back to Sam Soligen. "Perhaps you're right," he admitted. "Some Low-Lower jerk, impressed by what he considers high pay and adventure, doesn't stand much of a chance against an old pro." The gawky tee-ager broke into a toothy smile. "Gee, I wasn't arguing with you, major. I don't know anything about it.
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