West of Honor by Jerry Pournelle Read Free Book Online

corporal, and there wasn't any point in being bullheaded. I went down the hall to the Marine club. Deane Knowles was already there. He was alone except for a waiter—another trooper from our detachment. In the militia bar the waiters were civilians.

    "Welcome to the gay and merry life," Deane said. "Will you have whiskey? Or there's a peach brandy that's endurable. For God's sake, sit down and talk to me!"

    "I take it you were intercepted by Corporal Hansner," I said.

    "Quite efficiently. Now I know it is Fleet practice to carry the military caste system to extremes, but this seems a bit much, even so. There are, what, a dozen Marine officers here, even including our august selves. So we immediately form our own club."

    I shrugged. "Maybe it's the militiamen who don't care for us?"

    "Nonsense. Even if they hated our guts, they'd want news from Earth. Meanwhile, we find out nothing about the situation here. What's yours?"

    "I'll try your brandy," I told the waiter. "And who's the bartender when you're not on duty?"

    "Don't know, sir. Sergeant Major sent me over—"

    "Yes, of course." I waited for the trooper to leave. "And Sergeant Major takes care of us, he does, indeed. I have a truly formidable orderly—"

    Deane was laughing. "One of the ancients? Yes. I thought so. As is mine. Monitor Armand Kubiak, at my service, sir."

    "I only drew a private," I said.

    "Well, at least Ogilvie has some sense of propriety," Deane said. "Cheers."

    "Cheers. That's quite good, actually." I put the glass down and started to say something else, but Deane wasn't listening to me. He was staring at the door, and after a moment I turned to follow his gaze. "You know, I think that's the prettiest girl I ever saw."

    "Certainly a contender," Deane said. "She's coming to our table."

    "Obviously." We got to our feet.

    She was definitely worth looking at. She wasn't very tall. Her head came about to my chin, so that with the slight heels on her sandals she was just taller than Deane. She wore a linen dress, blue to match her eyes, and it looked as if she'd never been out in the sun at all. The dress was crisp and looked cool. Few of the women we'd seen on the march in had worn skirts, and those had been long, drab cotton things. Her hair was curled into wisps around her shoulders. She had a big golden seal ring on her right hand.

    She walked in as if she owned the place. She was obviously used to getting her own way.

    "I hope you're looking for us," Deane said.

    "As a matter of fact, I am." She had a very nice smile. An expensive smile, I decided.

    "Well, you've excellent taste, anyway," Deane said.

    I don't know how he gets away with it. I think it's telepathy. There's no particular cleverness to what he says to girls. I know, because I made a study of his technique when we were in the Academy. I thought I could learn it the way I was learning tactics, but it didn't work. What Deane says doesn't matter, and how he says it doesn't seem important. He'll chatter along, saving nothing, even being offensive, and the next thing you know the girl's leaving with him. If she has to ditch a date, that can happen, too.

    I was damned if it was going to happen this time, but I had a sinking feeling, because I'd been determined before and it hadn't done me any good. I couldn't think of one thing to say to her.

    "I'm Deane Knowles. And this is Lieutenant Slater," Deane said.

    You rotten swine, I thought. I tried to smile as she offered her hand.

    "And I'm Irina Swale."

    "Surely you're the Governor's daughter, then," Deane said.

    "That's right. May I sit down?"

    "Please do." Deane held her chair before I could get to it. It made me feel awkward. We managed to get seated, and Private Donnelley came over.

    "Jericho, please," Irina said.

    Donnelley looked blankly at her.

    "He came in with us," I said. "He doesn't know what you've ordered."

    "It's a wine," she said. "I'm sure there will be several bottles. It isn't usually chilled."

    "Yes,