Officers' Row stretched along the east side of the parade ground.  The fort was nothing special.  It hadn't been built to withstand modern weapons, and it looked a bit like something out of Beau Geste, which was reasonable, since it was built of local materials by officers with no better engineering education than mine.  It's simple enough to lay out a rectangular walled fort, and if that's enough for the job, why make it more complicated?

The officers' quarters seemed empty.  The fort had been built to house a regimental combat team with plenty of support groups, and now there were fewer than a dozen Marine officers on the planet.  Most of them lived in family quarters, and the militia officers generally lived in homes in the city.  It left the rest of us with lots of room to rattle around in.  Falkenberg drew a suite meant for the regimental adjutant, and I got a major's rooms myself.

After a work party brought our personal gear up from the landing boat, I got busy and unpacked, but when I finished, the place still looked empty. A lieutenant's travel allowance isn't very large, and the rooms were too big.  I stowed my gear and wondered what to do next.  It seemed a depressing Way to spend my first night on an alien world.  Of course, I'd been to the Moon, and Mars, but those are different.  They aren't worlds.  You can't go outside, and you might as well be in a ship.  I wondered if we'd be permitted off post - I was still thinking like a cadet, not an officer on field duty - and what I could do if we were. We'd had no instructions, and I decided I'd better wait for a briefing.

There was a quick knock on my door, and then it opened.  An old Line private came in.  He might have been my father.  His uniform was tailored perfectly, but worn in places.  There were hash marks from wrist to elbow.

"Private Hartz reporting, zur." He had a thick accent, but it wasn't pure anything; a lot of different accents blended together.  "Sergeant Major sent me to be the lieutenant's dog-robber."

And what the hell do I do with him?  I wondered.  It wouldn't do to be indecisive.  I couldn't remember if he'd been part of the detachment in the ship, or if he was one of the garrison.  Falkenberg would never be in that situation.  He'd know.  The trooper was standing at attention in the doorway.  "At ease, Hartz," I said.  "What ought I to know about this place?"

"I don't know, zur."

Which meant he was a newcomer, or he wasn't spilling anything to officers, and I wasn't about to guess which.  "Do you want a drink?"

"Thank you, yes, zur."