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

the slow pacing of the words. Neither did his eyes, when he
finally lifted them toward Victor.
"But what's more importantЧway moreЧis that I'm off duty and
you're disturbing my concentration."
Victor's angry response came too quickly to control. "Fuck you,
Usher," he hissed. "As much practice as you get, you could drink
in the middle of a hurricane without spilling a drop."
A thin smile came to Usher's face. "Well, well," he drawled.
"Whaddaya know? Durkheim's little wonderboy can actually use
cuss words."
"I learned to swear before I learned to talk. That's why I don't do
it."
The thin smile grew thinner. "Oh, what a thrill. Another Dolee
about to spin his tale of poverty and deprivation. I can't wait."
Victor reined in his temper. He was a little shocked at the effort,
and realized that it was his own fear which was bubbling up.
Victor had learned to control himself by the time he was six years
old. That was how he had survived the projects, and clawed his
way out.
OutЧand up. But he wasn't sure he liked the vista.
"Never mind," he muttered. "I know I'm breaking tradecraft. But I
need to talk to you privately, Usher. And I couldn't think of another
way to do it."
The smile left Usher's face completely. His eyes went back to
the glass. "I've got nothing to say to State Security outside of an
interrogation room." The smile came backЧvery thin. "And if you
want to get me into an interrogation room, you'd damned well
better get some help. I don't think you're up to it, wonderboy."
For just an instant, the large hand holding the shot glass
tightened. Glancing at it, Victor had no doubt at all that it would
take a full squad of State Sec troops to bring Usher into an
interrogation room. And half of them would die in the trying. Lush
or not, Usher's reputation was still towering.
"Why?" Victor mused. "You could have been an SS citizen
general by nowЧcitizen lieutenant generalЧinstead of a Marine
citizen colonel buried here."
Usher's lips, for just an instant, twisted into a grimace. A half-
formed sneer, maybe. "I don't much care for Saint-Just," was the
answer. "Never did, even before the Revolution."
Victor held his breath for a moment, before exhaling it sharply.
He glanced quickly around the room. No one was listening, so far
as he could tell. "Well," he drawled, "you don't seem too
concerned with your health, that's for sure."
Usher's lips quirked again. "Are you referring to my drinking
habits?"
Victor snorted. "You'll be lucky if you die of cirrhosis of the liver,
you go around making wisecracks about the head of State
Security."
"I wasn't making a wisecrack. I was stating a simple fact. I
despise Oscar Saint-Just and I've never made a secret of it. I've