Joe looked the place over. He didn’t know Kingston overly well, but by the appearance of the building and by the entry, it was probably the swankiest hotel in town. He shrugged. So far as he was concerned, he appreciated the greater comfort and the better service of his Middle caste bars, restaurants and hotels over the ones he had patronized when a Lower. However, his wasn’t an immediate desire to push into the preserves of the Uppers; not until he had won rightfully to their status.
But on this occasion the little fellow wanted to drink at an Upper bar. Very well, it was election day. “Let’s go,” he said to Max.
In the uniform of a Rank Captain of the Military Category, there was little to indicate caste level, and ordinarily given the correct air of nonchalance, Joe Mauser, in uniform, would have been able to go anywhere, without so much as a raised eyebrow—until he had presented his credit card, which indicated his caste. But Max was another thing. He was obviously a Lower, and probably a Low-Lower at that.
But space was made for them at a bar packed with election day celebrants, politicians involved in the day’s speeches and voting, higher ranking officers of the Haer forces, having a day off, and various Uppers of both sexes in town for the excitement of the fracas to come.
“Beer,” Joe said to the bartender.
“Not me,” Max crowed. “Champagne. Only the best for Max Mainz. Give me some of that champagne liquor I always been hearing about.”
Joe had the bill credited to his card, and they took their bottles and glasses to a newly abandoned table. The place was too packed to have awaited the services of a waiter, although poor Max probably would have loved such attention. Lower, and even Middle bars and restaurants were universally automated, and the waiter or waitress a thing of yesteryear.
Max looked about the room in awe. “This is living,” he announced. “I wonder what they’d say if I went to the desk and ordered a room.”
Joe Mauser wasn’t as highly impressed as his batman. In fact, he’d often stayed in the larger cities, in hostelries as sumptuous as this, though only of Middle status. Kingston’s best was on the mediocre side. He said, “They’d probably tell you they were filled up.”
Max was indignant. “Because I’m a Lower? It’s election day.”
Joe said mildly, “Because they probably are filled up. But for that matter, they might brush you off. It’s not as though an Upper went to a Middle or Lower hotel and asked for accommodations. But what do you want, justice?”
Max dropped it. He looked down into his glass. “Hey,” he complained, “what’d they give me? This stuff tastes like weak hard cider.”
Joe laughed. “What did you think it was going to taste like?”
Max took another unhappy sip. “I thought it was supposed to be the best drink you could buy. You know, really strong. It’s just bubbly wine.”
A voice said, dryly, “Your companion doesn’t seem to be a connoisseur of the French vintages, captain.”
Joe turned. Balt Haer and two others occupied the table next to them.
Joe chuckled amiably and said, “Truthfully, it was my own reaction, the first time I drank sparkling wine, sir.”
“Indeed,” Haer said. “I can imagine.” He fluttered a hand. “Lieutenant Colonel Paul Warren of Marshal Cogswell’s staff, and Colonel Lajos Arpad, of Budapest—Captain Joseph Mauser.”
Joe Mauser came to his feet and clicked his heels, bowing from the waist in approved military protocol. The other two didn’t bother to come to their feet, but did condescend to shake hands.
The Sov officer said, disinterestedly, “Ah yes, this is one of your fabulous customs, isn’t it? On an election day, everyone is quite entitled to go anywhere. Anywhere at all. And, ah”—he made a sound somewhat like a giggle—“associate with anyone at all.”
Joe Mauser resumed his seat then looked at him. “That is correct. A custom going back to the early history of the country when all men were considered equal in such matters as law and civil rights. Gentlemen, may I present Rank Private Max Mainz, my orderly.”
Balt Haer, who had obviously already had a few, looked at him dourly. “You can carry these things to the point of the ludicrous, captain. For a man with your ambitions, I’m surprised.”
The infantry officer the younger Haer had introduced as Lieutenant Colonel Warren, of Stonewall Cogswell’s staff, said idly, “Ambitions? Does the captain have ambitions? How in Zen can a Middle have ambitions, Balt?” He stared at Joe Mauser superciliously, but then scowled. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
Joe said evenly, “Yes, sir. Five years ago we were both with the marshal in a fracas on the Little Big Horn reservation. Your company was pinned down on a knoll by a battery of field artillery. The Marshal sent me to your relief. We sneaked in, up an arroyo, and were able to get most of you out.”
“I was wounded,” the colonel said, the superciliousness gone and a strange element in his voice above the alcohol there earlier.
Joe Mauser said nothing to that. Max Mainz was stirring unhappily now. These officers were talking above his head, even as they ignored him. He had a vague feeling that he was being defended by Captain Mauser, but he didn’t know how, or why.
Balt Haer had been occupied in shouting fresh drinks. Now he turned back to the table. “Well, colonel, it’s all very secret, these ambitions of Captain Mauser. I understand he’s been an aide de camp to Marshal Cogswell in the past, but the marshal will be distressed to learn that on this occasion Captain Mauser has a secret by which he expects to rout your forces. Indeed, yes, the captain is quite the strategist.” Balt Haer laughed abruptly. “And what good will this do the captain? Why on my father’s word, if he succeeds, all efforts will be made to make the captain a caste equal of ours. Not just on election day, mind you, but all three hundred sixty-five days of the year.”
Joe Mauser was on his feet, his face expressionless. He said, “Shall we go, Max? Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Colonel Arpad, a privilege to meet you. Colonel Warren, a pleasure to renew acquaintance.” Joe Mauser turned and, trailed by his orderly, left.
Lieutenant Colonel Warren, pale, was on his feet too.
Balt Haer was chuckling. “Sit down, Paul. Sit down. Not important enough to be angry about. The man’s a clod.”
Warren looked at him bleakly. “I wasn’t angry, Balt. The last time I saw Captain Mauser I was slung over his shoulder. He carried, tugged and dragged me some two miles through enemy fire.”
Balt Haer carried it off with a shrug. “Well, that’s his profession. Category Military. A mercenary for hire. I assume he received his pay.”
“He could have left me. Common sense dictated that he leave me.”
Balt Haer was annoyed. “Well, then we see what I’ve contended all along. The ambitious captain doesn’t have common sense.”
Colonel Paul Warren shook his head. “You’re wrong there. Common sense Joseph Mauser has. Considerable ability, he has. He’s one of the best combat men in the field. But I’d hate to serve under him.”
The Hungarian was interested. “But why?”
“Because he doesn’t have luck, and in the dill you need luck.” Warren grunted in sour memory. “Had the Telly cameras been focused on Joe Mauser, there at the Little Big Horn, he would have been a month long sensation to the Telly buffs, with all that means.” He grunted again. “There wasn’t a Telly team within a mile.”
“The captain probably didn’t realize that,” Balt Haer snorted. “Otherwise his heroics would have been modified.”
Warren flushed his displeasure and sat down. He said, “Possibly we should discuss the business before us. If your father is in agreement, the fracas can begin in three days.” He turned to the representative of the Sov-world. “You have satisfied yourselves that neither force is violating the Disarmament Pact?”
Lajos Arpad nodded. “We will wish to have observers on the field, itself, of course. But preliminary observation has been satisfactory.” He had been interested in the play between these two and the lower caste officer. He said now, “Pardon me. As you know, this is my first visit to the, uh West. I am fascinated. If I understand what just transpired, our Captain Mauser is a capable junior officer ambitious to rise in rank and status in your
