to play Uncle Bountiful to
Carol's three kids and to lap up as much as possible of his sister's
real cooking.

While the troopers and their med officer relaxed, a service crew moved
their car down to the Philadelphia motor pool for a full overhaul and
refitting for the next torturous eleven-month-tour of duty.

The two patrol troopers had reported into the Philadelphia Barracks
five days ago--Martin several pounds heavier courtesy of his sister's
cooking; Ferguson several pounds lighter courtesy of three assorted,
starry-eyed, uniform-struck Alberta maidens.

They turned into the gate of the motor pool and nodded to the sentry
at the gate. To their left, the vast shop buildings echoed to the
sound of body-banging equipment and roaring jet engines. The darkening
sky made the brilliant lights of the shop seem even brighter and the
hulls of a dozen patrol cars cast deep shadows around the work crews.

The troopers turned into the dispatcher's office and Clay carefully
placed the bags on a table beside the counter. Martin peered into one
of the bags. "Seriously, kid, what do you have in that grab bag?"

"Oh, just a few essentials," Clay replied "_Pate de foie gras_, sharp
cheese, a smidgen of cooking wine, a handful of spices. You know,
stuff like that. Like I said--essentials."

"Essentials," Martin snorted, "you give your brains to one of those
Alberta chicks of yours for a souvenir?"

"Look, Ben," Ferguson said earnestly, "I suffered for eleven months in
that tin mausoleum on tracks because of what you fondly like to think
is edible food. You've got as much culinary imagination as Beulah. I
take that back. Even Beulah turns out some better smells when she's
riding on high jet than you'll ever get out of her galley in the next
one hundred years. This tour, I intend to eat like a human being once
again. And I'll teach you how to boil water without burning it."

"Why you ungrateful young--" Martin yelped.

* * * * *

The patrol dispatcher, who had been listening with amused tolerance,
leaned across the counter.

"If Oscar Waldorf is through with his culinary lecture, gentlemen," he
said, "perhaps you two could be persuaded to take a little pleasure
ride. It's a lovely night for a drive and it's just twenty-six hundred
miles to the next service station. If you two aren't cooking anything
at the moment, I know that NorCon would simply adore having the
services of two such distingui