Galen said, “Let me watch it.”
John played it again.
Galen considered for a moment then said, “I think it’s all right. Let’s watch it one more time out in the main room on the big screen.”
They went out to the conference room. Tad sat in the control chair and used its controls to bring up the message and played the video on the full-D screen. Karen laughed. The technician seated at the Guns terminal gave it a thumbs-up and a “hooah!”
“Okay. Send it, Tad.” Galen said.
“Roger,” Tad switched the view to the geosynchronous comms satellite sensor array and scanned around to get a lock on the approaching Twelfth Legion of Doom transport ship. Then he zoomed in until the transport ship filled half the screen. Next he brought up the tight-beam signal transmitter directional indicator, which looked very much like a weapon’s cross hairs, and laid it on their receiver dish. Tad loaded the message into the comms satellite transmitter and sent it to the Legion as a data burst.
Galen checked his wrist chronometer. “Well, it’s time to go back down the mountain.”
Tad said, “Why don’t you move up here? They have room in the executive suites building. That’s where I’d stay if I didn’t have a room in behind my office.”
Karen said, “You go ahead without me, I’ll get another ride down. I’m going to eat at the restaurant again.”
“I’ll think about those executive suites, but probably won’t take one. I’m all settled in down there.” Galen pulled out his personal communicator and buzzed the sedan driver. She buzzed back, ready when you are. Galen walked out of the command center bunker, down the steps to the parking garage and found the driver waiting with the engine running.
“You’re all right, driver,” Galen sat next to her. “Take me home.”
“Roger.”
Chapter Eleven
Galen stood on the front porch of his hooch and looked toward the mountain that stood in the center of the crater. He couldn’t see the lake surrounding it from this low vantage point, but could see it from the window of his second floor bedroom. He turned and entered the hooch’s reception area, the conference room behind the door on his right, the kitchen and dining and latrine areas behind the three doors on his left. Straight ahead were the stairs and the back door to the left of the stairs. He went through the back door and stood on the meter-square concrete slab that served as the back porch. In front of him was his command tank, a fifty six ton monster, a Hercules Heavy Tank, like the other thirteen tanks of the Brigade HHC Company, except it had additional comms gear, sufficient to command the entire Brigade from that one tank. Spike’s tank to the left had the same setup, redundant, because Spike was filling the Brigade Executive Officer slot for this contract. The other twelve tanks of HHC were lined up, first platoon to the right, second and third platoon to the left. Their guns faced outward, across the tarmac of the spaceport, the crater’s outer rim beyond that. Quick-disconnect power cables came from the back of each tank and into the ground, their fusion engines collectively powering the electrical grid of the entire compound.
“Hey, Smaj.” It was Sevin’s voice, from behind, from inside the hooch.
Galen opened the door and Sevin stepped out.
Sevin spoke again. “Karen’s still up top and she’s looking at one of those executive suites. She’ll probably move in to one of them, they’re pretty nice. Like a fancy hotel.”
Galen sighed. “I’m not sure about that. I mean, right here I’m with my tank, where I belong. In case of emergency, you know.”
Sevin said, “I agree. Want to walk down town with me? I heard the Deluxe bar has some super-hot dancers.”
“I shouldn’t.”
Sevin stepped down off the porch and leaned his back against the tank. “Let me tell you something, and promise not to hit me.”
“Okay.” Galen sat on the little concrete slab.
“I think Karen’s a whore.”
Galen stared. Normally he’d… well, it was Sevin after all. He never talked to just hear himself make noise. He had his reasons, he wanted to help out. He was more than twice Galen’s age; he was wise in many ways. Okay, fair enough. Galen said, “I’m listening.”
“She’s got daddy abandonment issues; he was away on contracts most of the time and died when she was sixteen. She attended the Mandarin military academy but didn’t take a commission with them, so she wasn’t there to become an officer. Then she worked as a corporate executive assistant for the past couple of years. And through all that she had time to do this:”
Sevin showed his personal communicator’s screen to Galen. On it was a list of adult entertainment vids, Karen featured on them under more than a dozen different stage names. Sevin scrolled through page after page. “More than two hundred of them, my friend. More than four hundred hours of her performing various sex acts with and upon the persons of more than three hundred men, women, and trannys.”
Galen pushed the communicator away. “I get it, that’s enough. But the past is past.”
Sevin showed one file, the date. “This was made the same day we left Mandarin to come here. Two hours before we lifted.”
Galen looked.
Sevin put the device away. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re stepping in. Now the life cycle for a slutty whore is—”
Galen said, “Watch it, friend.”
“Okay. The life cycle of a slut is they whore around until they’re about twenty five, then they find the richest jackass they can get to marry them, and pay off their debts and buy them a house, and after they turn about thirty five or forty, they get divorced and go back to whoring around. Then after they turn about fifty five or sixty, they become judgmental church ladies and look down on everybody else while they whore around with the preachers.”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I think Karen’s a whore. She latched on to you because you are the most eligible bachelor, naïve enough and rich enough, to take care of her for now. But guess what?”
“What?” said Galen.
“Right now she’s up on that mountain having dinner with the Director. Now that he’s the richest, most powerful man on this planet, she’s going after him.”
Galen said, “I think he’s as queer as an interior decorator. Did you see his eyebrows? Arched like nobody’s business. And he gave me that fruitcake eye thing, and with the lips pursed, and the slight head-bobble side to side when he shook my hand. Creeped me out.”
“Well,” said Sevin, “that makes them a good match. He’ll need an expensive trophy wife to bear him a couple of kids so his mother will get off his back about getting married and having kids. Better him than you, if you know what I mean.”
“Well thanks for sharing. I need some time alone.” Galen went back inside and up to his room. He looked out the window at the mountain, the lake around it, the sun setting, and the shadow of the crater rim rising up its side. He stared, for over two hours. He then looked at his personal communicator and his wrist chronometer. No messages, no calls. He buzzed Sevin: Where you at?