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rebels, here to show their humble gratitude for the amnesty. Sweating to
please, she thought coldly. Learn how it feels, you slave-driving bastards.
Blaine himself was being determinedly friendly to all. . . . It was his main
weakness, a desire to be liked.
Fortunately, he knew how to control it. He broke free of the circle of former
enemies and came over to her. "Good-bye." He gripped both her hands with his.
I think he really will miss me.
Blaine was a tall man, over 190 centimeters, and thin enough to look almost
skeletal to someone Tanith-
born; his sandy brown hair was thinning on top and tousled as always, and he
wore the inevitable blue guayabera shirt with the CoDominium seal on the left
pocket.
"I still wish you'd taken my offer," he said. Second Administrative Assistant
in the Department of Labor;
a glorified executive secretary, but it was in the line of promotion, a good
position for someone as young as she was. "I hate to see Tanith lose anyone
with your abilities; we need all the smart, tough people we can get. Perhaps
something else? Name it." Blaine was eccentric that way; he had requested
posting to
Tanith, when every previous governor had taken it as a punishment post. For
that matter most planters and company executives dreamed of making a killing
and moving somewhere else.
"No, thank you, sir," she said. Then she smiled; it made her look younger than
her eighteen Earth years.
"That's the second serious proposition I've declined in the last week; it's
refreshing."
"Proposition?" he said, looking protective.
"Well, the other one was of marriage," she said. "Captain . . . ah, an officer
of the Legion."
Blaine nodded, looking away slightly.
What romantics men are, she thought. It made them easy to manipulate, if you
knew. Women had to;
some men learned. Colonel John Christian Falkenberg III was as expert as she;
military romanticism was as powerful a way to lead men by the nose as the
sexual variety.
"Spare the pity, please, Governor," she said a little sharply. "It wasn't all
bad here, and I'm not scarred for life, I assure you." Though there were some
memories that still woke her shivering in the night; that couple from
California . . . She pushed the memory aside.
"Actually, the worst thing about being a . . ." She considered; prostitute was
not exactly accurate. For one thing, she had never seen any of the money,
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except for tips and gifts. For another, she had been carefully trained to
offer a number of services besides the sexual. ". . . a geisha was that you
had to be so damned agreeable and nice all the time. In the Legion, nobody
gives a tinker's curse if I have the personality of a Weems Beast, as long as
I get my job done and stand by my comrades."
"Well "
"Look, sir, I appreciate your concern and the gentleman who asked me to marry
him but I don't need any more rescuing. Right now, I'm getting a fresh start
away from Tanith. I know you'll make Tanith a better place to live, but not
for me. And I've got a movable home and family going with me, the Legion.
It's a tough place, but you earn what you get, you don't wheedle somebody to
give it to you." She shrugged. "And if I get a husband someday, it won't be
someone who wants to protect me because I'm young and pretty and look
vulnerable. Hell, maybe I'll rescue him."
Blaine laughed. "I understand," he said. "I hope you like Sparta, too. Bit
drier and cooler than you're used to, I hear."
Ursula laughed back at him, still feeling a slight stab of satisfaction that
she could laugh because she
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...Falkenberg%203%20-%20Go%
20Tell%20the%20Spartans.txt (19 of 159)20-2-2006 23:17:51
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...lle%20-%20%
20Falkenberg%203%20-%20Go%20Tell%20the%20Spartans.txt wanted to. "I'm looking
forward to it, to getting out of this sauna."
* * *
Major Peter Owensford sipped at his drink; it was the perpetual
gin-and-bitters of Tanith. There was the rum-based liqueur made with Tanith
Passion Fruit, but that was too sweet for lunchtime, and anyway it was rumored
to be a mild aphrodisiac. That's the last thing I need right now, he thought
dismally, looking over at Ursula where she stood talking and laughing with
Blaine . . . Cornet Gordon, he reminded himself. Who had politely but firmly
put him in his place; a favored uncle's place . . . God damn it all.
"Feeling sorry for yourself?" Ace Barton said.
"Not really, Anselm." Captain Anselm Barton, he reminded himself. It was going
to be difficult, with
Ace along. He had been senior too long; with the Legion, and then an
independent merc commander for nearly a decade. And my commanding officer on
Thurstone, a lifetime ago.
"Now I know you're pissed, you never call me that unless something's got your
goat."
Owensford relaxed. "Oh, all right, Ace; yes."
"Smart and gorgeous, but too young for you. The problem is," he went on,
resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "you're getting those
settling-down feelings. Endemic, once you turn thirty."
"You don't have them?" Owensford replied.
"Oh, yes, but I lie down until they go away." A wink. "Works fine, provided
you lie down with the right woman."
Owensford snorted laughter. "Frankly, Ace, I'm nervous about this command as [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]