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He said nothing. Nadine said finally, her voice so low as almost not to be heard, "Perhaps I would be willing to marry a man of Middle caste." He was taken with surprise, but even in thrilling to the meaning of her words, his head was shaking in negation. "Nadine Haer, Category Medicine, Rank Doctor, Mid-Upper, married to Major Joseph Mauser, Category Military, Mid-Middle.
You'll go as a military observer, check on potential violations of the Universal Disarmament Pact." A sudden thought struck him. "I imagine it would add to your prestige and possibly open additional doors to you, if you carried more status." He looked again at the telly-mike on his desk. "Miss Mikhail, in my office here is Joseph Mauser, now Mid-Middle in caste.
Listen, you want me to help you on home?" "Got no home. Live in hotels. Military clubs. In barracks. Got nothing but my rank and caste." He sneered again. "Such as they are." Soligen said, "Mid-Middle, aren't you? And a major. Zen, most would say you haven't much to complain about." Joe grunted contempt, but dropped that angle of it.
Joe wondered in amusement how often the little man had found occasion to call a Mid-Middle by his first name. "No trank," he said. "Alcohol for me. Mankind's old faithful." "Well," Max debated, "get high on alcohol and bingo, a hangover in the morning. But trank? You wake up with a smile." "And a desire for more trank to keep the mood going," Joe said wryly.
Her eyes dropped and there was a slight frown on her forehead. Joe interpreted it to mean that she took exception to one of Mid-Middle caste speaking to her in this wise. He said, flatly, "At least the tune is somewhat applicable tonight." She looked up quickly, having immediately caught the meaning of his words. "Oh, Joe, you haven't taken another commission?" "Why not?
As once a well-educated aristocracy had, not necessarily unkindly, named their status inferiors niggers; or other aristocrats, in another area of the country, had named theirs greasers. Yes, how well he knew. He said very evenly, "Mid-Middle now, Miss. However, I was born in the Lower castes." An eyebrow went up. "Zen! You must have put in many an hour studying. You talk like an Upper, captain."
Sergeant followed in another three years and upon reaching the rank of lieutenant, at the age of twenty-five was bounced in caste to High-Lower. After distinguishing himself in a fracas between Douglas-Boeing and Lockheed-Cessna was further raised to Low-Middle caste. By the age of thirty had reached Mid-Middle caste and Rank Captain.
He most certainly hadn't expected to be introduced to the secretary of the Foreign Minister, and the working head of the North American Bureau of Investigation. Joe blurted, "But ... but you mean you Uppers are actually planning to subvert your own government?" Holland said, "I'm not an Upper. I'm a Mid-Middle. What're you Frank?" "Darned if I know," Hodgson said. "I forget.
"No," Joe said so softly that Max could hardly hear his words. "Only a Mid-Middle on the make." Followed by Max, he strode quickly to the Administration Building, presented his credit identification at the desk and requested a light aircraft for a period of three hours. The clerk, hardly looking up, began going through motions, speaking into telescreens.
And next month you're going to be on the cover of the Fracas Times." "And I'm still a major and still Mid-Middle caste. And my stock shares available for bribery are running short." Freddy twisted his mouth and looked worriedly down into his glass. He said unhappily, "We need a gimmick to climax all this. Some kind of gimmick to bring you absolutely to the top." "A gimmick?" Joe demanded.
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