"Doohan, James & Stirling, S M - Flight Engineer 02 - The Privateer 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doohan James)

Sjarhir smiled. "That's why I don't trust you, sir."

The Marine general grinned.

"More to the point, sir, there's no reason for Raeder to trust me. He's
never even met me."

"Well," Scaragoglu shrugged, "he soon will, and he'll like you too. You
have a winning way about you, Sjarhir."

"Thank you, sir."

The general smiled benignly, then gazed into space for a moment, one hand
gently beating time to the music.

Reminded by the gesture, Sjarhir said, "Raeder has a prosthetic hand, sir.
He's not cleared to fly a Speed."

The general waved dismissively.

"That's hardly a real reason not to tap Raeder for a mission," he
observed.

"No, sir."

"You're my devil's advocate, Sjarhir," the general remarked with a
sardonic smile. "I'd think that the devil would win more arguments."

"I think he does, sir."

Scaragoglu barked a laugh. "You've been with me too long, son. I'm going
to have to have you reassigned."

"Whenever you like, sir." But Sjarhir knew it wouldn't be soon.

Peter sat at the bar in Patton's; not drunk and not wanting to be, but
nurturing a nice little buzz. It kept his mood just elevated enough that
he wasn't crying in his beer. Or, in this case, actually, single-malt
whiskey. The trick, he thought, is to stay just on the edge of euphoria,
but not try to actually achieve it-because then I'd probably get maudlin
and start to cry.

The others had left him here alone at his request. "I've got some thinking
to do," he'd said, cheerfully enough. And his thoughts had been running
rings around each other ever since.

They're going to ground me. Just when I can fly again. They're going to
ground me. It wasn't doing him any good, but he couldn't stop himself.