David Weber - March to the Sea - Empire of Man Book II

He couldn't think of the way to do it now, either, however hard he tried. And he did try. His fuddled brain searched for something-anything-to say to take the sting out of his rejection, but what dropped from his lips was " ... associateatsh."

Nimashet Despreaux blinked twice and tried to focus on the prince, but all she could see was the target zone just above his Adam's apple.

"Di' you jus' say what I thin' you said?" she enunciated carefully.

"Look, call me weird," Roger said, gesturing with his cup. "But I don' fool around with ... assoc ... ass ... aizoaceae ... . Look, not tha' it wouldn' be fun. You' gorgeous. Bu' I won'."

"Wha' you mean is you don' fool 'round wi' the help. Tha's wha' you were gonna say, right?" the NCO demanded. "I s'pose a sergeant from a ass en' o' nowhere planet isn' good enough for you!"

"No, is no' like that!" the prince protested vehemently, leaning forward to give her a hug. "I like you, an' you're beau'ful, but it wouldn' be right!"

"Kee' you hands off me, you aris-aris ... aristocratic worm!"

"Whaddid I say?" Roger asked in perplexity. "I guess maybe some'ay, but no' tonigh'."

"You're damn' right we won't," the sergeant hissed as she drew back to strike. "Thas' not somethin' you're ever, ever gonna worry abou' again."

"Oh, shit."

For no reason he could think of, Julian had decided to forego the party. Technically, he was off-duty and could've gotten as drunk as a skunk if he wanted to. Unlike Gronningen and Georgiadas, who were supposed to be covering Roger. But they, bless their stupid little hearts, had stepped far enough away to give Roger and his girlfriend some space, some privacy, just like everybody else who'd watched the two of them dance closer and closer all evening. The company was not a unit of voyeurs, but the pool had gone bust twice on when those two were finally going to do the beast with two backs, and if they didn't get it out of their systems soon, somebody was going to squeal to the Skipper.

At the moment, however, Julian was ready to call the pool off. Just as soon as he saved Roger's life-the ungrateful bastard ...

The hard-driven slap slammed painfully into Julian's forearm as he blocked it.

"Despreaux!"

"Get out of my way, Julian!" the enraged bodyguard screamed. "I won't kill 'im! I'm just going to rip his balls off!"

"That would kill him, Nimashet," Julian protested as he blocked another swing. Fortunately, the inebriated Marine was still trying to hit the rapidly retreating Roger rather than deliberately aiming for her fellow noncom.

"No, it wouldn't." Warrant Officer Dobrescu sounded remarkably-and falsely-sober for a man stretched out under a nearby table, bottle in one hand and little black bag in the other. "I'd stop the bleeding. They'd even regrow with enough regen and enough time. I saw it once in a guy that had a bad accident on Shiva."

"See!" Despreaux yelled, trying to force her way past. Roger had retreated into the group of singers in the corner, but the tall, long-haired figure was still easily discernible. "It wouldn't kill him-just hurt. A lot! And it's not like he'd miss them!"

She tried for one more moment to shove past Julian, but then, suddenly, all the fury seemed to drain out of her. Her strength went with it, and she dropped back onto a bench and put her face in her hands.

"Oh, Julian, what the hell am I gonna do?"

"There, there," he said, patting her awkwardly on the back. The thought crossed his mind-briefly-that this was probably the best time ever to make his own play. But even he wasn't that evil a bastard. Probably. He'd have to think about it. He'd done things nearly as low to get laid. But not quite that low. Well, some that were. And, admittedly, some that were even lower. But not to a friend. Had he? "There, there."

"Oooooh." Despreaux groaned and took a long pull out of a bottle. "What the hell am I gonna do? I was willing to be the laughingstock of the company, but this is worse! I'm in love with a man who's unable to screw!"

"He isn't functionally incapable," Dobrescu said carefully. He sat up and slammed his forehead on the underside of his table. "Ouch. Damned low ceilings in this joint. As I was saying. He's functional as a male."

"Oooooh," Despreaux moaned again. "I just wanna crawl under a rock and die!"

"Don't tell me this is the first time you've ever been turned down," Julian joked. "You'll get over it. Everybody does."

"It's the first time I've ever asked, you idiot! I never had to before! And I didn't even get to ask-he just assumed I was going to suggest it! Assumed!"

"Were you?" Dobrescu asked, sticking his head out from between the table and the bench. "Damned odd architecture in this joint."

"Well, yes," Despreaux admitted. "But that's not the point! Did you hear what he said to me?"

"Yes," Julian said. "That was when I got the tranquilizer gun ready."

"Can you believe the nerve!" she spat so furiously that wine flew out in a spray over the other NCO.

"Yes," Dobrescu said. "I can. And since he turned you down, I don't suppose you could do with some comforting from a warrant officer? If, of course, you're thin enough to fit through the entrance to this cozy little room I seem to have lucked upon."

Gronningen, fortunately, was large enough to pull her off the warrant officer. Who complained, vociferously, that since he was the only medic in the company, there was no one else who could work on his wrenched back and bleeding nose.

The owner, the new manager, and the survey parties had left the valley. The long process of pumping out the mines and putting them back into production would start the following day, but for tonight the valley was deserted. Not even the guards had been replaced.

Which made the fact that three of the windmill-powered pumps were running all out at the moment more than a tiny bit peculiar. Their hoses snaked into the mouth of an abandoned mine shaft, and Armand Pahner parked himself just outside its entrance and clicked on his helmet light as a Mardukan emerged from the opening.

"Why, hello, Nor Tob."

The Mardukan froze in the opening, pinned by the brilliant glare of light. He clutched a chest between his false-hands, while one true-hand carried an uncocked cavalry pistol.

"It was the carts that got me thinking," the Marine continued cheerfully. "If somebody thought really fast and worked quickly, he could wheel quite a bit of this stuff away in just a few minutes. But he couldn't get far with it."

"So he asked me what was right near the storehouse," the sergeant major said from her perch above the entrance behind the Mardukan. "Ah, ah, let's keep those true-hands away from the pistol flint, shall we?" She chuckled. "I nearly kicked myself. Tell me something, did you have them dig this shaft just for this reason?"

"I've slaved in this mine for years!" the former manager said. "It was my right!"

"And when the Vasin came through the gates, you saw a chance to take your 'right' in the confusion," Pahner observed. "Or did you arrange that, too?"

"No, that was mere chance," the Mardukan said. "But I took that chance when I saw it! Look, I can ... share this with you. Nobody ever needs to know. You two can have half of it. Hell, forget that foolish child-there are cities on the plains where this much gold will allow you to live like a king for the rest of your life!"

"I don't think so," Pahner said quietly. "I don't like thieves, Nor Tob, and I don't like traitors even more. I think you ought to just go." The captain judged the weight of the chest the former manager was carrying. "You can take that with you, and nobody has to know any different, as you said. But that's it. Time to get on your civan and leave."