his swagger stick to the single occupant who looked up
from the paper- and tape-strewn desk at which he sat.

Joe Mauser had seen the face before on Telly though never so tired as
this and never with the element of defeat to be read in the expression.
Bullet-headed, barrel-figured Baron Malcolm Haer of Vacuum Tube
Transport. Category Transportation, Mid-Upper, and strong candidate for
Upper-Upper upon retirement. However, there would be few who expected
retirement in the immediate future. Hardly. Malcolm Haer found too
obvious a lusty enjoyment in the competition between Vacuum Tube
Transport and its stronger rivals.

* * *

Joe came to attention, bore the sharp scrutiny of his chosen
commander-to-be. The older man's eyes went to the kilted Upper officer
who had brought Joe along. "What is it, Balt?"

The other gestured with his stick at Joe. "Claims to be Rank Captain.
Looking for a commission with us, Dad. I wouldn't know why." The last
sentence was added lazily.

The older Haer shot an irritated glance at his son. "Possibly for the
same reason mercenaries usually enlist for a fracas, Balt." His eyes
came back to Joe.

Joe Mauser, still at attention even though in mufti, opened his mouth to
give his name, category and rank, but the older man waved a hand
negatively. "Captain Mauser, isn't it? I caught the fracas between
Carbonaceous Fuel and United Miners, down on the Panhandle Reservation.
Seems to me I've spotted you once or twice before, too."

"Yes, sir," Joe said. This was some improvement in the way things were
going.

The older Haer was scowling at him. "Confound it, what are you doing
with no more rank than captain? On the face of it, you're an old hand, a
highly experienced veteran."

_An old pro, we call ourselves_, Joe said to himself. _Old pros, we call
ourselves, among ourselves._

Aloud, he said, "I was born a Mid-Lower, sir."

There was understanding in the old man's face, but Balt Haer said
loftily, "What's that got to do with it? Promotion is quick and based on
merit in Category Military."

At a certain point, if you are good combat officer material, you speak
your mind no matter the rank of the man you are addressing. On this
occasion, Joe Mauser needed few words. He let his eyes go up and down
Balt Haer's immaculate uniform, taking in the swagger stick of the Rank
Colonel or above. Joe said evenly, "Yes, sir."

Balt Haer flushed quick temper. "What do you mean by-