And as the hour for the drop grew nearer, he noticed that his fellows were beginning to take their drinking more seriously. But on the night before a drop a lot of things were possible. It was strictly against orders on a battle cruiser to have a bottle in one's personal possession. He paid the credits for a full bottle and then paid the extra credits to take it out of the lounge.
If be was in the mood for honesty he would have to admit that his chances were no better. No, he had somehow known that they all would die. It was a dull kind of temporal shock at first, a reaction reverberating from somewhere deep within him. Where he had felt that odd sensation descending upon him like mist, separating him from all those thousands of others around him in the mess hall. From his place at the end of the long bar he examined the others in the crowded lounge. Maybe I'm just shy, he thought to himself and then laughed at such a feeble attempt at self-delusion. Recently, he had even grown to miss them again. And, despite what had happened, he still liked people. He had always managed to make acquaintances without much effort. Which was odd since he didn't have trouble with people.
Armor John Steakley, 1997 Version 1.0, JHe drank alone.
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