Starship Troopers Read Online Free PDF Page B

stump at me. “You. What is the moral difference, if any, between the soldier and the civilian?”
    “The difference,” I answered carefully, “lies in the field of civic virtue. A soldier accepts personal responsibility for the safety of the body politic of which he is a member, defending it, if need be, with his life. The civilian does not.”
    “The exact words of the book,” he said scornfully. “But do you understand it? Do you believe it?”
    “Uh, I don’t know, sir.”
    “Of course you don’t! I doubt if any of you here would recognize ‘civic virtue’ if it came up and barked in your face!” He glanced at his watch. “And that is all, a final all. Perhaps we shall meet again under happier circumstances. Dismissed.”
    Graduation right after that and three days later my birthday, followed in less than a week by Carl’s birthday—and I still hadn’t told Carl that I wasn’t joining up. I’m sure he assumed that I would not, but we didn’t discuss it out loud -- embarrassing. I simply arranged to meet him the day after his birthday and we went down to the recruiting office together.
    On the steps of the Federal Building we ran into Carmencita Ibanez, a classmate of ours and one of the nice things about being a member of a race with two sexes. Carmen wasn’t my girl -- she wasn’t anybody’s girl; she never made two dates in a row with the same boy and treated all of us with equal sweetness and rather impersonally. But I knew her pretty well, as she often came over and used our swimming pool, because it was Olympic length— sometimes with one boy, sometimes with another. Or alone, as Mother urged her to—Mother considered her “a good influence.” For once she was right.
    She saw us and waited, dimpling. “Hi, fellows!”
    “Hello, Ochee Chyornya,” I answered. “What brings you here?”
    “Can’t you guess? Today is my birthday.”
    “Huh? Happy returns!”
    “So I’m joining up.”
    “Oh . . .” I think Carl was as surprised as I was. But Carmencita was
    like that. She never gossiped and she kept her own affairs to herself. “No foolin’?” I added, brilliantly.
    “Why should I be fooling? I’m going to be a spaceship pilot—at least I’m going to try for it.”
    “No reason why you shouldn’t make it,” Carl said quickly. He was right
    I know now just how right he was. Carmen was small and neat, perfect health and perfect reflexes -- she could make a competitive diving routine look easy—and she was quick at mathematics. Me, I tapered off with a “C” in algebra and a “B” in business arithmetic; she took all the math our school offered and a tutored advance course on the side. But it had never occurred to me to wonder why. Fact was, little Carmen was so ornamental that you just never thought about her being useful.
    “We—Uh, I,” said Carl, “am here to join up, too.”
    “And me,” I agreed. “Both of us.” No, I hadn’t made any decision; my mouth was leading its own life.
    “Oh, wonderful!”
    “And I’m going to buck for space pilot, too,” I added firmly.
    She didn’t laugh. She answered very seriously, “Oh, how grand! Perhaps in training we’ll run into each other. I hope.”
    “Collision courses?” asked Carl. “That’s a no-good way to pilot.”
    “Don’t be silly, Carl. On the ground, of course. Are you going to be a pilot, too?”
    “Me?” Carl answered. “I’m no truck driver. You know me—Starside R & D, if they’ll have me. Electronics.”
    “ ‘Truck driver’ indeed! I hope they stick you out on Pluto and let you freeze. No, I don’t—good luck! Let’s go in, shall we?”
    The recruiting station was inside a railing in the rotunda. A fleet sergeant sat at a desk there, in dress uniform, gaudy as a circus. His chest was loaded with ribbons I couldn’t read. But his right arm was off so short that his tunic had been tailored without any sleeve at all . . . and, when you came up to the rail, you could see that he had