“No,” said the Major, making a good mental guess. “No, I can’t guess what she’s doing.”
“Well, she’s got a big bar in New York and some girls on the side. I bet she makes more money than all of us put together. I got a picture of her here. I always carry her picture around with me. You can bet my wife don’t like it.” The Chief pulled a worn leather wallet from his pocket. He opened it and showed the Major a picture.
Major Barkison smiled stiffly and looked at the heavy mulatto nude. “Very nice,” he said.
“You bet she is. She’s some woman.” He put away the wallet. “I’d sure like to see her again sometime. She is some woman.”
“She seems to be,” said the Major.
Duval looked into space. A distant expression came over his harsh and angular features. Barkison coughed. “Do you put into the Big Harbor often?” he asked.
Duval nodded, returning slowly to the present. “We stop in there once, twice a week. That’s our regular run. It’s the most civilized place on the Chain.”
“Yes, I know. There seems to be an unusual number of civilians there. What’s their status? I’ve never really looked into the problems of the civilian population up here, that’s another department.”
The Chief scratched himself thoughtfully. “Well, they’re just here. That’s all I know. They work in the stores. Some were pre-war residents. A lot of them are middle-aged women. We aren’t supposed to have nothing to do with them. The army’s real strict.” The Chief laughed. “But there are all kinds of ways to operate. Them girls get pretty rich.”
“I suppose they do. They seemed an awful-looking lot.”