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The Pimpernel Plot (TimeWars 3)

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“I’m still trying to decide if I can afford it,” said Delaney. “A major makes a great deal more than a noncom.”

“So who asked you to get busted so many goddamn times?” said Lucas. “I’ll tell you what: if Andre wins I’ll advance you whatever you’re short, at the usual rate of interest. How about it?”

“This could get very expensive,” said Delaney.

“Of course, if you think you’ll lose…” said Andre

“All right, I accept,” said Finn. “But on one condition. I name the time and place. When I collect, I want both of us to be cold sober.”

Finn and Lucas staggered into the briefing room, both of them terribly hung over. Delaney’s eyes looked like a map of the city’s transit system. Priest was afraid that he had destroyed his stomach lining. They found Andre already in the briefing room, drinking black coffee and looking remarkably invigorated and refreshed. She glanced up at them and smiled sweetly.

“Well?” she said. “Have I learned to drink like a soldier or do I still require practice?”

“That’s the last time I ever make a bet with you,” said Finn slowly lowering himself into a chair and signaling the orderly for a cup of coffee. Lucas sank into a chair on her other side.

“I still can’t believe she was sober enough to collect last night,” he said. He looked at Andre and shook his head, sadly. “Considering how much it must have cost, I hope you were at least clearheaded enough to remember the experience!”

“Oh, it was quite memorable,” she said, lightly. “It was fortunate for me that there was a female officer in the lounge last night who could assist me in making the selection. I explained our wager to her and she was delighted to help out. She examined your credit discs and programmed the credit transfer, then guided me in making a wise choice. I must say, I found it all absolutely fascinating. However, I had no idea that these courtesans were paid by the hour. It must be an extremely lucrative profession.”

Finn shut his eyes. “How long did you keep him?”

“Oh, all night, of course.”

Delaney put his head into his hands and moaned.

“Ten-tion!” called out the orderly as Col.

Forrester entered the briefing room. Andre leapt to her feet and snapped to a smart attention. Lucas took considerably longer to rise and Delaney didn’t even bother, remaining slumped over in his chair with his head in his hands.

The massively built Forrester removed his cap from his bald head and looked them over, his craggy, wrinkled features contorting into a grimace of wry distaste.

“As you were,” he said, dryly. Andre and Lucas sat back down. “Corporal Fleming,” said Forrester.

“Yes, sir, I know,” said the orderly. He already had the hypogun prepared. Delaney winced as the corporal pressed the gun against his neck and injected the adrenergen soldiers had nicknamed “nitro” directly into his carotid artery.

“Christ!” Finn shouted as the “nitro” hammered into his brain. He jerked violently in his chair. His eyes rolled and he shivered as if with St. Vitus’s Dance.

The orderly approached Lucas with the hypogun, but Forrester stopped him, saying, “That’s all right, Corporal Fleming. As long as he can stand up on his own, he’s sober enough for me. Just bring the major some more coffee.”

“Yes, sir.” The corporal looked disappointed.

“Delaney?” Forrester said.

“Sir!”

“I swear, I think you’re starting to like that stuff. Do you think we can proceed now?”

“Fuck, yes!”

“A simple ‘yes, sir’ would have been sufficient.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Sit down and shut up, Delaney. And try not to shake like a monkey on a stick. It’s most distracting.”

Delaney sat back down, holding the arms of his chair with a death grip. He tried to control the flow of energy, but he still continued to vibrate like an epileptic.

Forrester glanced at Andre and smiled. “Glad you’ve joined us, Private Cross. Congratulations.”



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