The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 2

"Lieutenant Peres, as she'll be when she comes off medical leave," the orderly sergeant said, "isn't a lotta help right now either. And if you're going to ask about—" he squinted at the characters on his display "—Sergeant-Commander Medrassi, he bought the farm."

Hechinger smirked. "Like you did, y'see? Look, don't worry, we'll—"

"Look, I just want to get back to my unit," Des Grieux said, hearing his voice rise and letting it. "Is Broglie around?Hebloody knows me. I just saved his ass—again!"

The orderly sergeant glanced over his shoulder. "Captain Broglie we might be able to round up for you, trooper," he said carefully. He nodded back toward the Adjutant's office.

"Anyhow,"Hechinger continued,"he was captain when he went in there. Don't be real surprised if he comes out with major's pips on his collar, though."

"Thatbastard . . ." Des Grieux whispered.

"Captain Broglie's very much the fair-haired boy just now, you know, buddy," Hechinger continued in his careful voice. "He stopped near a brigade of Hindi armor with one tank platoon. It was kitty-bar-the-door, all the way back to Xingha, if it hadn't been for him."

The office door opened. Sergeant Hechinger straightened at his console, face forward.

Des Grieux looked up expecting to see either the Adjutant or Broglie—

And met the eyes of Major Joachim Steuben, as cold and hard as beads of chert. Hammer's bodyguard looked as stiffly furious as Des Grieux had ever seen a man who was still under control.

Des Grieux didn't think that Steuben would recognize him. It had been years since the last time they were face to face. There was crinkled skin around the corners of the major's eyes, though his was still a pretty-boy's face if you didn't look closely; and Des Grieux just now looked like a scarecrow . . . .

Joachim was more than just a sociopathic killer, though the Lord knew he wasthat.He looked at the tanker and said, "Well, well, Des Grieux.Seeking our own level, are we?"

The way Joachim shot his hip could have been an affectation . . . but it also shifted the butt of his pistol a further centimeter clear of the tailored blouse of his uniform. Des Grieux met his eyes. Anyway, there was no place to run.