"Flint, Eric - Weber, David - Honorverse SS - From the Highlands" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flewelling Lynn)

Scrape, scrape. The work was numbing to the mind, as well as
the body. Mostly, Helen didn't think of anything. She just kept one
image before her: that of her mother's posthumously-awarded
Parliamentary Medal of Honor, which, in all the many places they
had lived since, her father always hung in the most prominent
place in their home.
Scrape, scrape. Helen would get no medals for what she was
doing, true. But she didn't care, anymore than her mother had
cared.
Scrape, scrape. Running water.


Victor

When he spotted the figure he was looking for, Victor Cachat
was swept by another wave of doubt and hesitation.
And fear.
This is crazy. The best way I can think of to guarantee myself the
place of honorЧin front of a firing squad.
The uncertainty was powerful enough to hold him rooted in one
spot for well over a minute. Fortunately, the grubby tavern was so
crowded and dimly lit that his immobility went unnoticed by
anyone.
It was certainly unnoticed by the man he was staring at. It took
Victor no more than seconds to decide that his quarry was
already half-drunk. True, the man sitting at the bar was neither
swaying nor slurring the few words he spoke to the bartender. In
this, as in everything, Kevin Usher kept himself under tight
control. But Victor had seen Usher soberЧoccasionallyЧand he
thought he could detect the subtle signs.
In the end, it was that which finally overcame Victor's fears.
If he denounces me, I can always claim he was too drunk to
know what he's talking about. It's not as if Durkheim won't believe
meЧhe makes enough wisecracks himself about Usher's
drinking habits, doesn't he?
At the moment when he came to that conclusion, Victor saw the
man sitting next to Usher slide off his bar stool. An instant later,
Victor had taken his place.
Again, he hesitated. Usher wasn't looking at him. The Marine
citizen colonel was hunched over, staring at nothing beyond the
amber liquid in his glass. Victor could still, if he chose, leave
without committing himself.
Or so he thought. Victor had forgotten Usher's reputation.
"This is a gross violation of procedure," said the man sitting next
to him, without moving his eyes from the glass. "Not to mention
the fact that you're breaking every rule of tradecraft. Durkheim
would skin you alive." Usher took a sip of his drink. "Well, maybe
not. Durkheim's a bureaucrat. What he knows about field work
wouldn't tax the brains of a pigeon."
Usher's soft voice gave no indication of drunkenness, beyond