He smiled a big white-toothed smile. Galen noticed that maybe his upper lip was a little short for his face and wondered if it was done cosmetically or if Mike were born that way. The luncheon attendees continued eating. Mike worked his way around the room, stopping at each table to pat backs and shake hands and laugh at remarks or make a joke or two of his own. He came to Galen’s table last and sat right down at the one empty chair.
“Hello Mike,” said Galen.
Mike gave Sevin a hard stare. “Lighten up, Master Sergeant. I’m doing my job.”
Sevin cracked a smile. “You’re all right. I’m just not too sure about this research.”
Mike said, “Well I know your history. I read up on your experience on Dagstadt. You were the sole survivor.”
“That’s right. And it started out a lot like this. That planet is still quarantined.”
Mike leaned toward Sevin and said, “I’ll keep an eye on these egg heads, and you keep an eye out, and we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen here.”
Mike stood and put on a grin and stood by the dining room door and shook the hands of people as they left.
Galen said, “Sevin, what was that all about?”
“Sorry, Smaj. Non-disclosure agreement. So far I’ve been able to keep my mouth shut by staying out here in the military, where the subject never comes up. But trust me this much, as soon as I think you all need to know, I’ll let you know.”
“Can you give us a hint?”
“No.” Sevin took another bite of his lunch, “but you might want to brush up on your close-quarter battle head shots.”
Mr. Pedimore came over and sat at the table. “Hello Commandant, mercenaries. I’m Mr. Pedimore, your liaison officer.”
Tad said, “No offense, mister, but you are the EugeneX liaison. I am the Jasmine Panzer Brigade liaison officer. We have an office set up for you in my operations center.”
“Well allow me to take lunch here and I’ll follow you there and you can show me around.”
“All right,” said Galen. A server brought lunch for Mr. Pedimore and refilled the glasses of the rest of the staff. Galen and Tad ordered second servings. Sevin, Karen and Spike left, shaking hands with Mike on the way out. Mike took a quick glance around the room and noticed everyone else had gone. He sat at Galen’s table and the server brought him lunch as well.
“So,” said Mike, “how was the food?”
“Excellent,” said Tad.
“Very good, sir,” said Mr. Pedimore.
“Please, call me Mike.”
“Very good, Mike,” said Galen. Then he said to Mr. Pedimore, “John, it’s important that you call the director Mike. You’re the liaison, my line to him. So dealing with you has to be on the same level as dealing with him. You two have to relate on the same level or it hampers our relationship.”
Mr. Pedimore said, “Very well, but it will take some getting used to. And calling me John is a good start. Just give me some time to get familiar, please. I’m not used to this sort of thing.”
Tad cut into his second serving of cordon bleu. “Call me Tad, and call him Galen and we’ll all be one big happy family.”
Mike spoke as he ate. “I love this place already. They weren’t kidding, I feel twenty years younger.”
“It’s refreshing,” said Galen.
“So what do you guys do for fun around here?”
Tad said, “We have a little downtown area set up. Not as sordid as a usual party vill, but I’m sure you can find something you’d like to do down there.”
“I’ll be sure to check it out. John, you want to head down there this evening?”
“Yes sir, I mean, Mike. And Tad and Galen?”
“No, we have shifts to maintain. It would be bad for discipline anyway. In our military organization, senior staffers and commanders can’t be out in the same environment with off-duty troops. It would spoil their fun.”
“I see,” said Mike, “but they won’t mind my people hanging around?”
Galen said, “It would be a boost to their egos, partying on the same level as corporate big shots. But do me a favor and don’t actually interact with them too much. A couple of words or phrases from you, taken out of context, could really fire up the rumor mills. Have fun but keep the troops at arm’s length.”
“I understand.”
Tad said, “Well there is your high-end cocktail lounge and this restaurant, and a couple more clubs up here on the mountain. I can put them off-limits to my people.”
Mike smiled. “Okay. But don’t put this restaurant off limits. Since you have some troops working up here in the command center and the gun positions, your people can eat here for free, no questions asked.”
“I’ve got a question,” said Tad, “we need a midnight meal for night shift.”
John said, “I’ll make that happen.”
“Good.” Finished with his meal, Mike stood and left the dining room.
Tad, Galen and John went to the command center, opened the door on the right side of the back wall and stepped inside the liaison office.
Galen told John, “This is your office.”
John looked around and then sat at the chair behind the desk. In front of him were two couches backed up to the walls, a coffee table between them. On the wall opposite the desk was a meter-square flat screen. Tad showed him how the center portion of the desktop flipped up to become a control terminal, and how to make the flat screen the second monitor.
“This will do nicely, gentlemen,” said John.
“There’s a door behind you,” said Galen.
“Where does it go?”
“It’s a sleeping room. A cot, a sink, a toilet, a closet. It’s certainly not meant as a primary billet, but it’s good for short periods.”
John opened the door and looked in. “It’s a nice touch, a great place for power naps, and a great place to change clothes. Thank you.”
Galen and Tad sat on opposite couches, John sat at his desk.
Galen said, “So John, could you help us come up with a response to the challenge from the Twelfth Legion of Doom?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tad said, “Fire up your terminal and I’ll show you how to watch it on your flat screen.”
John did as instructed. Soon the video played. John said, “That was rude. Are you going to fight them?”
Galen said, “There’s nothing in my contract about kicking their asses. As long as they stay away from this crater, I don’t care what they do.”
John looked at Tad. Tad said, “If EugeneX wants us to put down Seventh City’s rebellion that is a matter of separate negotiation beyond this current contract. I’m sure Mike doesn’t want to stir up a pot of trouble just because someone was rude.”
“But,” said John, “we do need to send a response.”
Galen said, “Yes, and it has to be as insulting as theirs.”
“I think I can help you with that. I studied literature before taking a graduate degree from business school.” John typed on his terminal for a few minutes, and then displayed his work on the flat screen. “This is meant as script, to be read aloud.”
Galen looked it over and made a couple of changes. “Okay, let’s record this and send it out.”
John activated the sensor and Galen stood in front of it and read the script. “Hey Tribunus of the Dumb Legion of Elves, I think your message was cute. My first thought is to scorch your employer off the map before you arrive and blast your ship out of my space before you can land, but I really like your facial tattoo and your teeth; that shows a real desire on your part to seek social acceptance amongst your troops by mutilating yourself. Do you all look like that? It must work wonders for your reenlistment rate. Since they look like freaks they’re more likely to reenlist and less likely to have a go at civilian life. As for our position, just stay the hell away from my crater and I’ll be able to fulfill the obligations of my unit contract without killing you. As a good faith gesture on my part, if you decide to flee my planet, feel free to use my jump point, I won’t stop you. No need for you to spend a week in sub-light traveling to your own jump point when you don’t have to. And here’s another tip: if you’d like to lose two kilograms of ugly fat, cut off your head.”