the Earth, and never expected to; and, both as a colonial
and as a Marine who had been fighting the Matriarchy’s
battles all his adult life, he was more than a little contemp-
tuous of Earthmen, with their tandem names and all that
they implied. Of course it was not the Consort of State’s fault
that he had been born on Earth, and so had been named
only Marvin 12 out of the misfortune of being a male; nor
that he had married into Florence Upjohn’s cabinet, that
being the only way one could become a cabinet member,
and Marvin 12 having been taught from birth to believe
such a post the highest honor a man might covet. All the
same, neither 12-Upjohn nor his entourage of drones filled
Oberholzer with confidence.
Nobody, however, had asked M. Sgt. Richard Oberholzer
what he thought, and nobody was likely to. As the chief
of all the non-Navy enlisted personnel on board the Hobo,
he was expected to be on the bridge when matters were
ripening toward criticality; but his duty there was to listen,
not to proffer advice. He could not in fact remember any
occasion when an officer had asked his opinion, though he
had receivedand executedhis fair share of near-suicidal
orders from bridges long demolished.
“By the pulse five point five,” Lieutenant Spring’s voice
sang.
“Sergeant Oberholzer,” Hammer said.
“Aye, sir.”
“We are proceeding as per orders. You may now brief
your men and put them into full battle gear.”
Oberholzer saluted and went below. There was little enough
he could tell the squadas 12-Upjohn had said, Calle’s