like to hear any of us question CD policy, although, like the rest of us in the service, it didn't really matter what the policies were. "No politics in the Fleet" was beaten into our heads at the Academy, and later the instructors made it clear that what that really translated to was: "The Fleet is Our Fatherland." We could question anything the Grand Senate did—as long as we stood by our comrades and obeyed orders.
We stood there watching as the colonists were herded into the prison building. It took nearly an hour to get all two thousand of them inside. Finally the gates were closed. Ogilvie gave more orders and the Marines scabbarded their bayonets, then formed into a column of eight and marched down the road.
"Well, fellow musketeers," I said, "here we go. We're to follow up the hill, and there's apparently no transport."
"What about my ordnance?" Deane asked.
I shrugged. "Apparently arrangements will be made. In any event, it's John Christian Falkenberg's problem. Ours not to reason why—"
"Ours but to watch for deserters," Louis Bonneyman said. "And we'd best get at it. Is your sidearm loaded?"
"Oh, come on, Louis," Deane said.
"Notice," Louis said. "See how Falkenberg has formed up the troops. Recall that their baggage is still aboard. You may not like Falkenberg, Deane, but you will admit that he is thorough."
"As it happens, Louis is right," I said. "Falkenberg did say something about deserters. But he didn't think there'd be any."
"There you are," Louis said. "He takes no chances, that one."
"Except with us," Deane Knowles said.
"What do you mean by that?" Louis let the smile fade and lifted an eyebrow at Deane.
"Oh, nothing," Deane said. "Not much Falkenberg could do about it, anyway. But I don't suppose you chaps know what the local garrison commander asked for?"
"No, of course not," Louis said.
"How did you find out?" I asked.
"Simple. When you want to know something military, talk to the sergeants."
"Well?" Louis demanded.
Deane grinned. "Come on, we'll get too far behind. Looks as if we really will march all the way up the hill, doesn't it? Not even transport for officers. Shameful."
"Damn your eyes, Deane!" I said.
Knowles shrugged. "Well, the Governor asked for a full regiment and a destroyer. Instead of a regiment and a warship, he got us. Might be interesting if he really needed a regiment, eh? Coming, fellows?"
Two
"I've a head like a concertina,
And I think I'm going to die,
And I'm here in the clink for a thunderin' drink,
And blackin' the corporal's eye. . . ."
"Picturesque," Louis said. "They sing well, don't they?"
"Shut up and walk," Deane told him. "It's bloody hot."
I didn't find it so bad. It was hot. No question about that, and undress blues were never designed for route marches on hot planets. Still, it could have been worse. We might have turned out in body armor.
There was no problem with the troops. They marched and sang like regulars, even if half of them were recruits and the rest were guardhouse cases. If any of them had ideas of running, they never showed them.
"With another man's cloak underneath of my head,
And a beautiful view of the yard,
It's thirty day's fine,
With bread and no wine,
For Drunk and Resistin' the Guard!
Mad-drunk and Resistin' the Guard!"
"Curious," Louis said. "Half of them have never seen a guardhouse."
"I expect they'll find out soon enough," Deane said. "Lord love us, will you look at that?"
He gestured at a row of cheap adobe houses along the riverbank. There wasn't much doubt about what they sold. The girls were dressed for hot weather, and they sat on the windowsills and waved at the troopers going by.
"I thought Arrarat was full of holy Joes," Louis Bonneyman said. "Well, we will have no difficulty finding any troopers who run—not for the first night, anyway."
The harbor area was just north of a wide river that fanned into a delta east of the city. The road was just
We stood there watching as the colonists were herded into the prison building. It took nearly an hour to get all two thousand of them inside. Finally the gates were closed. Ogilvie gave more orders and the Marines scabbarded their bayonets, then formed into a column of eight and marched down the road.
"Well, fellow musketeers," I said, "here we go. We're to follow up the hill, and there's apparently no transport."
"What about my ordnance?" Deane asked.
I shrugged. "Apparently arrangements will be made. In any event, it's John Christian Falkenberg's problem. Ours not to reason why—"
"Ours but to watch for deserters," Louis Bonneyman said. "And we'd best get at it. Is your sidearm loaded?"
"Oh, come on, Louis," Deane said.
"Notice," Louis said. "See how Falkenberg has formed up the troops. Recall that their baggage is still aboard. You may not like Falkenberg, Deane, but you will admit that he is thorough."
"As it happens, Louis is right," I said. "Falkenberg did say something about deserters. But he didn't think there'd be any."
"There you are," Louis said. "He takes no chances, that one."
"Except with us," Deane Knowles said.
"What do you mean by that?" Louis let the smile fade and lifted an eyebrow at Deane.
"Oh, nothing," Deane said. "Not much Falkenberg could do about it, anyway. But I don't suppose you chaps know what the local garrison commander asked for?"
"No, of course not," Louis said.
"How did you find out?" I asked.
"Simple. When you want to know something military, talk to the sergeants."
"Well?" Louis demanded.
Deane grinned. "Come on, we'll get too far behind. Looks as if we really will march all the way up the hill, doesn't it? Not even transport for officers. Shameful."
"Damn your eyes, Deane!" I said.
Knowles shrugged. "Well, the Governor asked for a full regiment and a destroyer. Instead of a regiment and a warship, he got us. Might be interesting if he really needed a regiment, eh? Coming, fellows?"
Two
"I've a head like a concertina,
And I think I'm going to die,
And I'm here in the clink for a thunderin' drink,
And blackin' the corporal's eye. . . ."
"Picturesque," Louis said. "They sing well, don't they?"
"Shut up and walk," Deane told him. "It's bloody hot."
I didn't find it so bad. It was hot. No question about that, and undress blues were never designed for route marches on hot planets. Still, it could have been worse. We might have turned out in body armor.
There was no problem with the troops. They marched and sang like regulars, even if half of them were recruits and the rest were guardhouse cases. If any of them had ideas of running, they never showed them.
"With another man's cloak underneath of my head,
And a beautiful view of the yard,
It's thirty day's fine,
With bread and no wine,
For Drunk and Resistin' the Guard!
Mad-drunk and Resistin' the Guard!"
"Curious," Louis said. "Half of them have never seen a guardhouse."
"I expect they'll find out soon enough," Deane said. "Lord love us, will you look at that?"
He gestured at a row of cheap adobe houses along the riverbank. There wasn't much doubt about what they sold. The girls were dressed for hot weather, and they sat on the windowsills and waved at the troopers going by.
"I thought Arrarat was full of holy Joes," Louis Bonneyman said. "Well, we will have no difficulty finding any troopers who run—not for the first night, anyway."
The harbor area was just north of a wide river that fanned into a delta east of the city. The road was just
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