The three young flexitimers tended to stroll into the office around midday, and then worked Saturdays, often Sundays too. The weekend as a distinct category of the week was irrelevant to them, anachronistic[…]

The man she cherishes, the man she butterfly-kisses, the man she sleeps curved around like two spoons in a drawer. It is he who is evil, he who is sworn to destroy her, an emotional quisling of the first water.

The Emesene guardsman's blade sparked off the marble.

The Atlanta was swinging through her own turn to avoid a collision with the van when the searchlight, probably from the destroyer Akatsuki, lit upon her from abaft the port beam. Captain Jenkins reacted as commanders had been trained in peacetime: Counter-illuminate! he shouted. His gunnery officer, Lieutenant Commander William R. D. Nickelson, Jr., preferred to respond with other hardware. At once he shouted into his headset mike: Fuck that! Open fire!