I would say you in particular; I at least knew of the possibility, though I never thought it would happen to me." Medart chuckled. "Don't be too sure who needs it more. I've been through something similar you studied the Sandeman Annexation, of course." "Of course," Corina agreed, puzzled.

The only son, George M. Brown, was, in the last parliament, member of the British House of Commons for Centre Edinburgh, and is one of the firm of Thomas Nelson & Sons, publishers. In the same city reside two daughters, Margaret, married to Dr. A. F. H. Barbour, a well-known physician, and writer on medicine; and Edith, wife of George Sandeman.

Although had the warrior Nevan entered the corridor facing right instead of left, the result would have been different." "But he wasn't." Medart nodded to the Sandeman. "You can go back to whatever you were doing, Lieutenant; I know you're not on watch right now." "Thank you, sir." Nevan bowed to Corina, then left. Medart gave Corina his full attention.

It was that or the Jubilee Sandeman, and I'm not an admirer of the Jubilee wines. Very delicate, very good," he cooed, "but well, you'll understand me if I call them all women's wines. Now, if you like port, I've a few bottles of '72 Gould Campbell. . . . Johnny, your grandfather would have had a fit, if he'd seen you trying to drink port wine with a cigarette in your mouth.

His demoralization was completed when the Sandeman said, "Good shooting, Ranger Medart. Do you want that last one, or may I take him?" "Neither," Medart replied. "He's hers give me a hand with Kennard." "Yes, sir." Nevan holstered his blaster, and the two men went to kneel by the fallen Ranger. Corina stopped in front of her former teacher. "You have seen and felt the truth, Thark.

The Ondrian affair, with his new friend Star-flower playing a large part, and a wry thought that he kept getting involved with cats in one form or another. The crisis in Sector Five when Sandeman erupted, conquering half that Sector before its Duke realized she couldn't handle them and called for Imperial help.

That was repeated half a decade times, with what appeared to be effortless ease. "Does he ever miss?" Corina asked as the Sandeman continued to shoot. "I've never heard of it happening, and I'm sure it'd be all over the ship in less than an hour if he did." Medart chuckled.

I could tell many stories of the next few days marching and billeting and getting ready for action again; of the village that no English troops had visited before, and the inhabitants that feared us, and afterwards did not want us to leave; of the friendly bearded patron of an estaminet, who flourished an 'Echo de Paris, and pointed to the words ténacité anglaise in an account of the fighting; of the return of the signalling officer, who, while attending a course at an Army School, had been roped in to lead one of Sandeman Carey's infantry platoons; of the magnificently equipped casualty clearing station that a week before the offensive had been twenty-five miles behind the lines, and only got its last patients away two hours before the Boches arrived!

"I . . . never thought of it that way," Nevan said slowly. Sandeman custom said that any sort of deliberate falsehood or deception was wrong, a grave dishonor, and he believed that implicitly but it sounded like Ranger Medart was telling him that in some cases it was not only honorable, it was praiseworthy!

He went to the outer lock and signaled his success to the watchers, then carried the Sandeman to his cabin and secured him to the bunk. Then he went into the 'fresher, found synthiskin release in the medikit, and used it on the Sandeman's face, smiling as it peeled free to reveal the tattoo so familiar from news shows.