March Upcountry

The captain shook his head, and this time there was very little humor in his smile.

"The Mark Ninety-Eight is about twice as powerful as the Thirty-Eight, but I think Kruplon Armaments just overcharged a Thirty-Eight and put on a new cover. The interior modules are practically identical. I'd heard the rumor that the Ninety-Eight had a tendency to blow, but this is the first time I've personally seen any evidence of it."

"But why doesn't somebody call them on it?" Julian demanded, then shook his head. "Never mind."

"Yeah," Poertena laughed. "You got any pocking idea how much pocking money 'e's talking about?"

"If they lose the sale, there goes the money for the senator's reelection campaign," Pahner agreed quietly. "Or the big di

He didn't bother to mention that the Imperial Bureau of Investigation had enough to do lately tracking down various conspirators against the throne without worrying about such minor matters as exploding weapons that killed the people using them. It was, frankly, a bad time to be a Marine.

He took the mated contact and superconducting wire and wrapped them with a piece of gum the size of a pea.

"The gum will harden when the current hits it," he said with a smile as he pressed the joint tight. "And you thought it was just a habit," he added, blowing a tiny bubble.

Out of two dozen plasma chamber capacitors, they found a distinct drop in current management on half a dozen. As the current flow increased, they faltered. In a spike situation, the capacitors would fail catastrophically, with predictable results.

And all of them carried similar lot numbers from the same manufacturer.

"Fuck." Captain Pahner popped another tiny bubble and smiled grimly.

"There's microscopic cracking in tee capacitor wall," Poertena said, examining one with a field-scope. A tiny pseudo beetle wandered across the field of view, but he didn't even notice. "They probably let tee moisture get in. Especially when they been used and tee capacitor is swell. T'at's death on these dry capacitors."

"So if you don't have a spike, everything is fine." Julian shook his head. "And if you do, but don't have a bum capacitor, everything is fine. But not both."

"Right," Pahner said. "Okay. Toss these crap capacitors into the fucking jungle, except for a couple of samples. When we get back, I think Her Majesty is probably going to hang a couple of subcontractors. Given how a

"After you get rid of them, put together the best plasma guns you can, as many as you can. Check every component, every piece and co

Julian grimaced.

"Losing the plasma guns is really go

"Can't be helped. I'm not losing another squad to a breech blow. We'll hold them in reserve until it really has dropped in the pot. If it turns out we can't survive without them, we'll bring them out."

"It'll take us a while to put them together," Julian said.

"I'll get you some help. You've got today and tomorrow."

"Okeedokee," Poertena acknowledged with a resigned headshake. "Nice pocking trick," he added. "Where'd you learn it?"

"Son, I'm seventy-two," the captain said. "I joined up when I was seventeen. After fifty-five years of being on the ass-end of the supply chain, you learn to make do."

Kostas Matsugae had always enjoyed cooking on a small scale, but preparing di

With the company stopped, he finally had some leisure to experiment. He knew the troops had started complaining about the sameness of the menu, and he didn't really blame them. With very little time each evening and a large number of meals to prepare, he'd been forced to fall back on stew almost every night. The ru

The valet might not be a Marine, but he recognized the importance of food to morale, and he meant to do something about it. Although he intended to stay with the basic "lots of stuff in a big pot" meal plan, those parameters permitted a variety of dishes, and he was working on a new one now.

The Mardukans grew a little-used fruit that was vaguely similar to a tomato. He'd purchased a large quantity of it, and now he was simmering it in a pot spiced with the blowtorch herb peruz and filled with a brown legume which filled much the same culinary niche as lentils in Q'Nkok. With any luck—and it was certainly smelling good—he had a Mardukan chili in the pot. Or, it might turn out to be inedible. In which case, the company would be having... barleyrice and stew. It was Wednesday, after all.

He smiled as Sergeant Despreaux leaned over the pot and sniffed.

"My," she said, "that smells heavenly."

"Thank you." Kostas stirred at the top of the large kettle with a wooden spoon and took a taste. Then he waved at his mouth and took a hasty drink of water. "A bit too much peruz," he said in a strangled voice.

Dogzard had been sleeping in a patch of sun that penetrated the enveloping canopy. But at the sound of a spoon hitting the side of the pot, the lizard flipped to all six feet and padded rapidly over to the cooking area, and Kostas picked a small bit of meat out of the ersatz chili and tossed it to the begging lizard. The dog-lizard had become a general company mascot, emptying bowls and cleaning up messes with indiscriminate zeal. Since leaving the village of The People she'd started to grow, and was already a fairly large example of the species. If she didn't stop growing soon, she was going to end up a veritable giant.

"It'll remind us to drink," Despreaux said. She looked around for a moment, then lowered her voice. "Can I ask you a personal question?" she asked seriously.

Kostas cocked his head to the side and nodded.

"I would never betray the confidence of a lady," he said, and Despreaux snorted a laugh.

"La, sir! Seriously, no lady I. Being a lady and a grunt are sort of contradictions in terms."

"No," Kostas said. "They're not. But ask your question."

Despreaux looked around again, then looked at the pot rather than meet the valet's eye.

"You've known the Prince for a long time, right?"

"I've been his valet since he was twelve," Kostas said. "And I was a general servant in the Imperial Household before that. So, yes, I've known him for quite some time."

"Is he gay?"

Kostas stifled a snort. Not because the question was unexpected—he'd almost answered it for her before she asked—but because it was such an incredibly normal question out of this enormously capable Amazon.

"No." He was unable to keep his amusement entirely out of his tone. "No, he's not gay."

"What's so fu

"You have no idea, nor will I try to give you one, how many times I've heard that question," Kostas replied with a smile. "Or heard the suggestion. Or noted the rumor. On the other hand, I've heard the opposite question just as often. There are just as many—perhaps more—gay young men as straight young ladies who have hit Roger's armor and bounced."

"So it's not just me?" she said quietly.

"No, my dear." This time, there was a note of sympathy in the valet's voice. "It has nothing to do with you. Indeed, if it makes you feel any better, I would guess that Roger finds you attractive. But that's only a guess, you understand. The Imperial Family follows the core world aristocratic tradition of providing its children with first-class sexual education and instruction, and Roger was no exception. I also know that he's inclined to prefer women; he's had at least one sexual encounter I'm aware of, and it was with a young lady. But he's also rebuffed virtually every other advance that I'm aware of." He chuckled. "And I'm aware of quite a lot of them. Frankly, if Roger were interested, he could have more 'action' than a company of Marines, pardon the expression."