"Williamson,.Michael.Z.-.Freehold.02.-.The.Weapon.v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Michael Z)

point lengthwise and seam-to-seam along the legs . . ."

She claimed I'd simply dumped my extra uniforms into the laundry
bag to avoid having them inspected. She was right. There was
nothing prohibiting that, however, and I wasn't about to accept a
gigging over it. She swore and threatened, I replied that she was
violating regs. Another instructor came over, and it got louder.
Then I was written up.

I refused to sign it. They could impose any punishment they
wished, but I wasn't going to acknowledge it as legal. Shortly
thereafter, I was standing shaking and terrified in front of the
battalion first sergeant. I'd look like an idiot if I backed out now, so I
made it clear I'd take it through the chain of command to the
Marshal if I had to. He hemmed and hawed, but agreed I'd
committed no violation, merely been a smartass. He agreed the
instructors had no authority to act as they had. I was dismissed
back to my section. I won the battle.

And that lost me the war. They knew who I was. They knew I was a
smartass. I spent the next six weeks (we have ten day weeks,
twenty-eight plus hours to our day) regretting it, being nailed for
every tiny infraction (it's impossible not to make them) and
cheerfully accepting the punishment. Wasn't I the recruit who liked
to go by the book? What did the book say about dust? Wasn't that
a dust mote on my locker?

It was a valuable lesson. A little extra work would have saved me a
lot of grief. I never saw an off-base liberty, and damned few on-
base libs, either. I spent my time polishing furniture and shoes,
scrubbing latrines and floors, and hating the instructors. The only
time they left me alone was survival training, and that was brutal
enough on its own.

I made it to the "Wreck" (Recreation Center) for one evening, for a
whole half div, about 1.5 hours. I knew I couldn't get anyone to
dance with me, we weren't allowed to touch if we did, and I didn't
like pop music. All I wanted was to get away from everything for a
few segs.

While standing there, getting a sugar high off a single mug of
chocolate, I was confused by a face almost nose to nose with me.
The eyes twinkled and looked happy to see me. I stared at them
and tried to place the rest of the face.

Deni. Hard to recognize in shapeless camouflage and with a
shaved head, but it was Denise, the redhead from the hotel. "Hi!"
we both said together, and laughed.

We sat and talked, ran late, hurriedly swapped unit and contact info