On Basilisk Station (Honor Harrington, #1)

by David Weber

"Excuse me, Captain," Major Isvarian said in a very careful voice, "but did I just hear you ask the Bosun to find you fifteen smugglers to man our customs flights?" "Of course not, Major. This is a Queen's ship. What would we be doing with smugglers on board? On the other hand, I'm certain that, over the years, certain of my personnel have observed other personnel who have attempted to conceal proscribed materials aboard ship. Sad to say, some may even have known individuals who engaged in black market activities aboard naval vessels. I simply asked the Bosun to find me some of those observers." "I see," Isvarian murmured. He took a large sip of coffee and put his cup back down. "I see, indeed."

PO Harkness had a weakness—two of them, in fact. He was constitutionally incapable of passing a Marine tunic in an off-duty bar without endeavoring to thump the living daylights out of its wearer, and he labored under the belief that it was his humanitarian duty to provide his shipmates with all the little things the ship's store didn't normally carry.