His father said, very slowly, "What ... in ... Zen ... are ... you ...
doing ... in ... that ... outfit?"
Sam grinned ruefully, albeit proudly. "Aw, it would've taken a
century for me to make full priest, Papa. The only way to do is like
Major Mauser. You didn't know this, but, I've been following the
fracases all along. Especially when you were the reporter. I've
watched every fracas you've covered for years. I guess you know I'm
pretty proud of you."
"Sam! What are you doing in that uniform! Answer me!"
The boy flushed. "I'm old enough, Papa. I switched categories. I've
signed up with Chrysler-Ford in their fracas with Hovercar Sports.
They're taking me on as infantryman."
"Infantryman?" Freddy winced, and closed his eyes. "Listen, boy,
where'd you get the idea that--" He started over again. "But all your
life I've given you the inside on the Category Military, Sam. All your
life. No trank in our home. No watching the Telly day in and out.
You've gone to _school_. More than I ever did. You were going to be a
Temple priest--"
Sam sat down too, vaguely surprised at this father's reaction. "Aw,
Papa, everybody's a fracas buff now. Everybody. You can't get away
from it. I ... well, I want to be like Major Mauser. Get so all the
fans know me, want my autograph, all that. And all the excitement of
being in a fracas, getting in the dill, and all. I just want to be
like the other fellas, Papa."
Freddy could only stare at him.
Sam tried to explain. "Shucks, it was really you that made me want to
become a mercenary. You're the best Telly reporter of them all. When
_you_ cover a fracas, Papa, you really do it. You can see
_everything_." He shook his head in admiration. "Gosh, you really feel
the emotion. It's the most exciting thing in the world."
"Yeah, son," Freddy Soligen said emptily. "I suppose it is."