I pulled out my com-link. Sandra answered immediately.
“You need me inside?” she said.
“Come on in, but take it easy,” I said.
Sandra had never been good at taking it easy. The roof above us tore itself apart. An explosion of white plaster dust, insulation and wires fell into the office. Fortunately, only sheetrock and a single rafter fell, and they didn’t land on Crow’s desk. It would have been a shame to ruin it.
Sandra was a strange combination of chief bodyguard and girlfriend. She’d been altered more than anyone else under my command. She had not only been nanotized, but upgraded by an intelligent race of microbiotic creatures as well. Unfortunately, the microbiotics had all died tragically. Otherwise, I might have been able to upgrade all my marines in a similar fashion.
She sprang out of the dusty mess and moved in a blur. An instant later she stood atop the desk. She had both her arms operating again, but I could tell the right one was still healing. After all, she’d had it torn off less than a month ago.
She carried twin knives in her hands instead of guns. Two combat knives with molecularly-aligned, carbon blades. She’d used the blades to claw her way through the ceiling. A shaft of sunlight came beaming down through the haze of plaster dust, turning the floating motes golden.
“Is today the day?” Sandra asked, staring at Crow as one might stare at a turkey in need of carving.
“I’m not sure,” I said. I turned to Crow and raised my eyebrows expectantly.
Crow’s eyes were bigger than usual. I waited for him to speak. He eyed me, then Sandra. Lastly, he eyed the helpless guards depicted all over his desktop.
“Fifty-Fifty,” he said quietly.
“The Marines need a new headquarters,” I said. “Now.”
Crow’s cheek twitched a fraction. “Take this building. I’ll build a new center for Fleet.”
Just like that, Crow had reversed himself. He had seen strength, and in the face of it, he’d backed off to bide his time. I knew this new truce wouldn’t last forever, but with luck, it wouldn’t have to.
“You drive a hard bargain Admiral,” I said, “but I accept your terms.”
-2-
Major Barrera was among the first of my staff to move into the new building. A swarthy, barrel-chested man with a mean look to him, he’d been my exec on Andros Island ever since we’d declared our independence from the governments of Earth. He was quiet, efficient and loyal—the polar opposite of Crow.
Barrera carried a box under each arm and wore a grin on his face. I ushered him to one of the prime corner offices on the top floor. He couldn’t wait to move in. I’d seen the tin-roofed shack Crow had assigned him to previously, and I couldn’t blame him for being happy about the upgrade.
“Good to have you back, sir,” he said.
I nodded. “Good to be here, Major. Call a mandatory staff meeting for noon today in my office.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, putting the boxes down on his desk. He immediately left to work on the task I’d assigned him. His new office could wait until the job was done.
I nodded to myself, looking after him as he stabbed fingers at his com link. Classic Barrera. He hadn’t asked what the meeting was about. He hadn’t insisted on an agenda he could email around or post on some automated scheduler. He just took the order and ran with it. I knew he’d find everyone who wasn’t available via their com-link and hassle them in person. Once again, I considered raising his rank. But then I would probably have to raise mine as well. Giving myself promotions always felt weird, so I’d avoided it for a long time now. I’d look into it later.
It was a shame to send Crow’s attractive clerical people packing, but I only had enough actual work for a few of them. When I looked into what they’d been doing for him, most had spent their time buying stuff. They were titled: purchasing agents. They worked tirelessly online and over the phone to get rare items shipped to Andros Island. At first, there had been some reluctance to send so many specialized goods and services down to a half-deserted island in the Caribbean, but word soon got around that we were loaded with government funding. Our accounts were always paid on time, so the merchants of the world stepped up to make the deliveries happen.
It was jaw-dropping, the things Crow had been ordering on a daily basis. Sure, many of the budget items were understandable. Our Nano tech factories could duplicate almost anything, but required a lot of rare earths as raw materials to do it. Palladium, promethium and neodymium were used in the construction of our fusion generators. Holmium and erbium were required for our lasers. We needed shocking quantities of these unusual minerals, and as the market tightened up the prices had skyrocketed.
It was the luxury items that I objected to. Crow had ordered a slew of personal compression chambers, for instance. These egg-like machines reportedly used something called hyperbaric medicine to improve circulation. Ensconced inside, a user could read or listen to soft music during half-hour treatments. A legitimate use for these systems was decompression therapy for our troops injured in space. Many had suffered a loss of vacc suit pressure during our last battle with the Macros and had required atmospheric and oxygen regularity afterward to prevent embolisms. What I objected to was Crow’s purchase of three hundred and eighty of these units at a cost of nearly half a million dollars apiece. When I questioned the purchasing agent in charge, she’d explained the systems had side benefits beyond basic medical purposes. Supposedly, they were capable of providing holistic health treatments, filling users with a sense of inner peace.
I stared at the purchasing agent, a woman named Ping. She blinked rapidly and attempted a shy smile, which I did not return. She was particularly young and freshly-hired. She was also younger and more attractive than the average—even among Crow’s best. Her hair was perfectly coifed and she wore a business suit that didn’t show a single crease. Her black hair was as long and straight as her skirt was short. Crow had apparently insisted on a dress code.
“Do you think this is a valid expense?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
Ping stared at me, trying to ascertain what the correct answer was. I retained my poker face, not giving her a clue. At last, she tried to answer.
“No, sir,” she said. “It’s a waste of money.”
I nodded slowly. Most of them had defended their work. Maybe word was getting around. No matter how pretty they were, every bureaucrat who told me buys like this were a good idea had been immediately escorted down the backstairs of the building and put on a ship to the mainland.
“Good answer,” I said. “I don’t want marines who are filled with inner peace. I want killers. Return to your desk and start returning these damned bullshit health-machines.”
“Should I return them all, Colonel?”
“Keep five,” I said, “for the hospital.”
As I watched Ping leave, I wondered if I was being too hard on the girls. I told myself I probably wasn’t being hard enough. I should have fired them all. Sandra certainly would have preferred it that way. She’d wandered by my office door on occasion as she prowled the building. I knew every time another female underling walked into my office it annoyed her, she’d always been the jealous type. But the steady stream of firings had kept her mollified thus far. Not even Sandra could accuse me of flirting after watching a parade of unhappy women exit the building.
First Sergeant Kwon walked in on me before I could bring in the next terrified clerk. Kwon had been with me for years through many campaigns. I’d found him reliable, if unimaginative. He was a huge man of Korean descent. Wearing full combat gear and full of nanites, I calculated he had to weigh nearly a ton, but I’d never asked him to step on a scale. I could tell Crow’s office had quality flooring when it didn’t creak under Kwon’s heavy tread.