by John Bowers
"They don't bother you any more?"
"Fuck no. They tried to pull a lotta that racial shit just to git my goat. I laughed at all their jokes. Hell, some of that darky-coon shit I never heard before. I think Texas reads a lot of stuff from the civil rights days. People just don't talk like that no more, least not where I come from."
"Where's that?"
"Alabama."
Rico grinned and nodded. "That's the first time I was ever called beaner," he admitted.
"Yeah, what the hell does that mean, anyway? I never heard it before."
"A lot of Mexican food is made with beans. That one goes back a few centuries, too."
White laughed again, shaking his head.
"They call me Knee Grow."
Rico looked puzzled. "What the hell does that mean?"
"I have no goddamn idea. Anyway, point is, they ain't bad guys. They just git bored. Like all of us." White glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice.
"Sure enough, though — you seen any action?"
Rico's grin faded.
"I really can't talk about it," he said. "I'm under orders to keep my mouth shut."
"No shit? How come?"
"Can't tell you."
"Damn! I'd sure like to know."
Rico shrugged and shook his head. "Sorry."
White nodded acceptance.
"What about the other guys?" Rico asked.
"Just regular Marines. Except for the corporal. He's a good enough guy, but he's on a personal crusade to get everybody saved."
"Saved?"
"Yeah. He's one of them born-againers. Gits the chance, he talks about Jesus. All the goddamn time. Shee-it! I got nothin' against church or Jesus, but this peckerwood is a goddamn fanatic. You just be ready."
Rico had to laugh — he'd asked for it. Hadn't he?
Monday, 30 June, 0228 (PCC) – Luna Base 4, Luna
Rico fully expected something to happen that night, some kind of hazing while he was asleep. There was nothing he could do to prepare for it except be aware that it was probably coming. But the 0500 reveille woke him up as usual and nothing had happened. The squad fell out with the rest of Delta Company for morning calisthenics, followed by a five-mile run before breakfast.
It had been some months since he'd been in a line company, and the routine was tiring. Delta was a combat company and had to be ready to ship out at a moment's notice, so each day involved a certain amount of physical training and field exercise. The rest of the day was filled with more mundane duty, followed by evening chow and then back to barracks. Rico was worn out by the end of the day's events, and realized he'd been living a pretty good life with Headquarters Platoon since returning to the 33rd.
Walking back to barracks after evening chow, he was ten feet behind the Fearless Fourless, who'd ignored him all day. He overheard everything they said, and was amazed at the sheer volume of their profanity. Some of it even made him grin.
Texas, Tiny, Gearloose and Maniac were striding along four abreast when they spotted the battalion chaplain walking toward her office. She was younger than Lt. Sante, and quite good-looking. Maniac's eyes followed her for a moment. Suddenly he called out to Cpl. Roberson, who was just ahead.
"Hey, Preacher!"
Roberson swiveled around. "Yeah?"
"You're a man of God. Is it a sin to screw a chaplain?"
Roberson flushed with righteous disdain. Before he could respond, Texas answered for him.
"Hell, no, Maniac!" he said. "Where do you think little chaplains come from!"
The Fourless laughed rudely as Roberson turned his back and quickened his pace.
"I think I'm in love!" Maniac declared, still eyeing the departing chaplain.
"You ain't in love, you're in heat."
"Maniac, you're the horniest bastard I ever saw!" Gearloose said.
"That's why they call me Maniac."
"Sex Maniac," Tiny said.
Rico followed the Fourless into the barracks, walking past them to get to his rack. Texas saw him and grinned tentatively.
"Welcome back, Beaner. How'd you like your first day with Delta?"
Rico smiled, but didn't answer. Texas followed him with his eyes, the grin fading. But he didn't pursue it.
"Hey, Texas. What's the past tense of shit?" Tiny had sprawled on his rack and was frowning at a crossword computer.
"What kind of question is that?" Texas demanded, reaching for the computer and staring at the screen. "Where'd you get this fucking thing?"
"Past tense of shit?" Gearloose repeated, frowning as if the answer were important. "I think it's shat."
"Shitted," Maniac declared.
"Shitted?" Gearloose scowled as if Maniac had lost his mind. "Whoever heard of shitted? That's not even a word! It's shat."
"Shit, shat, shut," Texas guessed.
"Shit, shitted, shitten!" Maniac insisted. "It's shitted. My mother always used to complain because the dog shitted in the house."
"Yeah, and your mother shitted when you were born."
"Fuck you, Texas!"
"That's part of your problem, Maniac. We need to show you where those whorehouses are."
"Fuck you!" Maniac repeated.
"Fick, fack, fuck." Texas grinned.
Rico reached into his locker and pulled out a chip recorder. He wanted to tell his sister about his reassignment, but first wanted to review her last letter. Problem was, he didn't especially want the other men to see it, so he attached a headset and flicked it on. He was in the middle of the chip when Cpl. Roberson approached his rack and stopped a few feet short.
"Busy?" he asked.
Rico flipped the viewer off and put it aside.
"Nothing that can't wait."
Roberson sat down on the next rack and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He seemed a little sheepish, but gamely went ahead.
"I was just wondering, Martinez. Maybe it's none of my business, but — well, we're fighting a war, and none of us knows when it might be our turn to die. You know what I mean?"
Rico nodded solemnly. He knew only too well, better than Roberson could even guess.
"So, I think it's important for a man to … Well, you know — be prepared. You understand what I'm saying?"
Rico shook his head. Across the room, behind Roberson's back, White was grinning hugely at him.
"I'm not sure I do," Rico hedged, though he was sure he did.
Roberson smiled encouragingly.
"I'm talking about getting right with the Lord," he said quietly. "I don't know how you feel about the way the rest of these heathens carry on, but as for me, I'm a Christian. And if you've got a few minutes, I'd like to share my joy with you."
Rico noticed a sudden silence; everyone in the barracks was listening, aware that Roberson had pigeonholed him. He felt unaccountably embarrassed, not for himself, but for Roberson.
"I'm a Christian, too," he said calmly.
Roberson's eyes lit up. "Really?"
Rico nodded. But before he could say more, Maniac interrupted.
"Hey, Beaner, before you give your life to Jesus, let me recommend Sophia. She's a lot sexier!"
Roberson whipped around.
"That Vegan pagan!" he blurted. "She's nothing but an idol! A false deity!"
"Yeah," Maniac grinned, "but has she got tits!"
Roberson was on his feet, Rico forgotten.
"Sophia is as pagan as Isis and Aphrodite!" he cried.
"Maybe so, Preacher, but I hear Isis was a fox."
"You're gonna burn in hell, Sexton!" Roberson railed. "That goes for all of you — unless you repent and take on the whole armor of God!"
"This armor," Texas asked, "will it stop a laser?"
"That's blasphemy!"
They laughed uproariously; Roberson turned his back on them and sat down again, his face flushed. He forced himself under control, and shook his head at Rico.
"I'm sorry about them. They're all godless, every one of them. I'd hate to be in the
ir shoes on Judgment Day."
Rico didn't know what to say. Roberson obviously meant well, and he didn't want to offend him. He managed to shrug nonchalantly.
"Like I said, Corporal, I'm already a Christian. I was raised a Catholic."
"Now you've done it!" Texas called. "He's gonna start in on the Pope!"
"I used to know a girl named Virgin Mary," Maniac said to no one in particular. "I took her out once. After that they just called her Mary."
More laughter and jokes followed. Rico felt the urge to join them, not because he was impious, but because it was funny. For Roberson's sake, he contained himself, biting his lip to hold it back. But the conversation was over. Roberson couldn't concentrate, and he just stood up, shaking his head.
"Maybe we can talk another time," he suggested.
"Sure, Corporal."
Roberson returned to his rack; Rico laid his head back, closed his eyes, and struggled not to laugh.
Chapter 18
Thursday, 26 June, 0228 (PCC) – Washington City, DC, North America, Terra
Henry Wells knew Peter Miller wouldn't talk to him by vidphone, scrambled or not, so he didn't try to call. Instead, he boarded a private rocket and flew to Washington City. It had been a restless night, for he dared not confide any of his fears to Yvonne. He dared not even tell her what he'd learned at Travis; there was no point in terrifying her. He had no choice but to bottle it up, and spent the night tossing and turning. Finally he got up around four in the morning, drinking coffee and pacing until he could leave without arousing Yvonne's suspicions.
He called for a rocket from his car and drove straight to the airport. The Lear was warming up on the runway when he got there, and two hours later he strode unescorted into the building that housed the Federation Intelligence Agency. He met some resistance from the security forces inside the building, but with uncharacteristic bluster, forced his way inside.
"Don't tell me the Director is too busy!" Henry stormed at the muscular guard who gazed down at him like Adonis, "I am a Federation Senator, and the Director is not too busy to entertain the Federation Congress! Now you take me to him right now, or your next stop will be Parris Island! Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Six minutes later Henry was inside Peter Miller's office.
Peter Miller stood and smiled, diplomatic as ever. He came around his desk and extended a hand.
"Senator Wells!" he murmured disarmingly. "What an unexpected pleasure! Please, won't you sit down?"
"Unexpected, I imagine," Henry growled, refusing to match the man's smile. "Pleasure — don't make me laugh." He felt like a thundercloud.
But Peter Miller still smiled, and as Henry settled into a chair, returned to his own. Sitting back and steepling his fingers, he appeared as unruffled as Henry was tense.
"To what do I owe the honor?" he asked.
Henry was impressed with the man's imperturbability. He was angry as hell, and didn't care that it showed, but Peter Miller appeared completely immune.
"Where's my daughter?" he asked bluntly.
"Your daughter." Miller nodded as if he just now understood the purpose of the visit. "You mean Regina."
"Yes, I mean Regina. Where the hell is she?"
Miller's smile faded only slightly, and he shrugged.
"Obviously, I can't tell you that."
"Obviously? Why obviously?"
"For security reasons, of course."
Henry leaned forward menacingly.
"Look, Miller, I'm a senator. Have you forgotten that? You remember the Senate, don't you? The Defense Committee?"
"Of course, Senator Wells. I recognize your power and your prestige, and I understand that you're upset about your daughter. I even sympathize with you. But you're on my turf now. You can threaten me all you want, but I answer directly to the President. No one else."
"Goddammit, Miller …"
"Senator, your visit is not completely unexpected. Like most fathers, you want to protect your daughter, and I admire that. Even in this age of equal opportunity, we still find it difficult to send our daughters off to war."
Henry’s eyes bulged. "War!"
"Yes, essentially. You see, Senator, your committee would very much like the Agency to find what you refer to as The Leak. And I want to find it equally as bad. I'm doing everything in my power to do just that, and Regina Wells is going to help me do it."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Miller stopped pacing. Standing in the middle of the room, he peered intently at his visitor. He wasn't smiling, not even a little.
"Senator, if I tell you a single word more than that, I will jeopardize your daughter's life."
"How can Gina help you find the leak?" Henry demanded.
"Trust me. She can."
"How?"
"I can't tell you that. But you want the leak found, don't you?"
"Of course I do, but …"
"Then get out of my face and let me do it."
Henry also stood, and advanced until he was in Miller's face. They were almost the same height.
"I'm warning you, Miller! If anything happens to her … "
"Senator, millions of parents have to live with the fact that their children are facing possible death in this war. What makes you any different?"
"She's my daughter!"
"And all those girls who've died in space battles defending this planet were someone's daughters, too. I ask again, what makes you any different?"
Henry stuttered, groping for an answer. He couldn't find one.
"Your daughter is uniquely qualified for this assignment. That's why I recruited her — yes, I did recruit her. But no one forced her to accept. She signed the necessary documents herself. She may be your little girl, but she's still an adult, of legal age. And she's a damned fine patriot. You should be proud."
Henry struggled with his anger. Peter Miller didn't budge, his eyes steady as steel. Henry felt his stomach turn over several times, before he finally lowered his eyes.
"She promised me she wouldn't enlist," he muttered.
"She didn't enlist. She was recruited. And she's not in a combat assignment."
"But you said it was dangerous."
"Potentially."
"When will I get to see her?"
"When her assignment is complete."
"How long will that take?"
"No one knows. We've known about the leak for seven years. We haven't found it yet."
Henry's eyes were filled with pain as he met the other man's gaze again.
"You think it could take years?"
"I have no idea. Several months, certainly."
Henry looked down again. "Goddammit!" he whispered.
Peter Miller crossed the room and poured him a drink. Henry took it, though it was only noon local time. He felt deflated. Miller sat down again, and motioned Henry to his chair.
"You ran into Regina's surrogate," he said matter-of-factly. "Yes, she called me. As I said, your visit wasn't entirely unexpected." He sighed. "I have an assignment for you now, too," he said. "For Regina's safety, the surrogate is now your daughter. There are going to be times when you'll be seen with her in public. Social occasions, public events. Occasionally she may even spend the night at your home. For all intents and purposes, she is now your daughter. You must play the part. If anyone ever suspects she isn't the real Regina Wells, your Regina could be in terrible danger."
Henry peered at him through narrowed lids, finding the suggestion all but intolerable.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"Her name is Regina Wells."
"Cut out the games, will you? What's her real name?"
"Senator, you understand 'need to know', don't you? Of course you do. You don't need to know her real name. She is Regina Wells. You have to think of her in those terms, because if you don't, you may inadvertently give her away. And if the surrogate is compromised, your daughter will also be compromised."
"You talk as if every other perso
n on the planet is a spy."
"As far as I am concerned, every person on the planet is a spy." Miller's smile flickered briefly. "Even you, sir."
"That's ridiculous."
Peter Miller stood up and leaned forward over the desk, resting on his fingertips. He didn't raise his voice, but his tone hardened, as if he'd completely lost patience.
"You listen to me, Senator! I have been entrusted with the job of protecting the secrets of the Federation by uncovering the secrets of the enemy. In order to do that, I have to send men and women of all ages all over the universe, into every star system, into every society, to face incredible risks. I am responsible for their lives, for their safety, and I don't take that responsibility lightly. As a result, I am prepared to turn every stone under heaven to protect those people who are putting themselves at risk to get the job done. When I say I don't trust anyone, I mean I don't trust anyone. Not the man on the street, not the man in the Congress. We have a leak, Senator, and I still don't have a clue where it is, but I have several billion suspects. And I suspect them all. If you think that's ridiculous, just remember that if I'm less than diligent, your daughter could die."
He paused for a significant beat, his black eyes blazing.
"Do we understand each other, sir?"
Henry nodded slowly, feeling almost faint.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Of course you're right."
Peter Miller sat down. He was shaking.
"You may have to let your wife know about the surrogate, but not until the last possible moment. If things work out, it may not be necessary for the surrogate to meet your wife at all, but most likely it will. But listen carefully — no one else must know. You don't tell your driver, your pilot, your aides, your mistress if you ever get one, and you don't tell your friends in the Senate. Is that clear? No one is to know that the Regina Wells making the circuit is a surrogate. No one."
Henry nodded again. "Yes. I understand."
He tipped the glass and swallowed the last of the liquor. It burned its way into his stomach, but he hardly felt it. It occurred to him that this was going to be a very, very long war.