by JL Curtis
Nicole snapped, “No women? Isn’t that discriminating?”
Lal smiled, a feral smile this time, “No. It is simply a fact. If we lose men, they can be replaced. Women, especially child bearing women, cannot be. Our clans are so small, losing one woman is a major impact. That was a decision the women made on their own. As I said, they don’t like it, but realize they have a higher priority.”
Somewhat mollified, Nicole continued, “Do any of them have a problem working with women? Shit, never mind. I’ve known enough of you Ghorkas to know that is not a factor.”
They finally reached the corridor, walking slowly past the line of men standing against the bulkhead patiently waiting their turn. Entering the lounge, they found Captain Jace and Keldar, the purser, were the only two crew there. Keldar was at one table, being his usual grumpy self, dotting I’s and crossing T’s on each Grey Lady contract, as each one of the Ghorka stepped forward. The captain was assisting OneSvel with the holo measurements and physicals as each Ghorka stepped away from Keldar’s table, and the captain was soothing the occasional ruffled feathers. OneSvel was also doing medical checks on a line of Ghorkas who had various ailments between the physicals.
One Ghorka was asking Keldar a series of questions as Fargo and Nicole got within hearing range, “So, I sign up, I get a thousand credits a month, unless there is action, and then I get five thousand credits if I get called up, and twenty thousand credits for combat. Now the question is, is that twenty thousand per action, or per month?”
Keldar was turning an interesting shade of purple, which told Fargo this particular Ghorka was a barracks lawyer type, and the captain stepped in, “Okay,” glancing at the name on the contract, “Naik, this is a standard off world security contract. One, five, twenty and one hundred if you get killed. You know this drill, and yes, it’s monthly. If you don’t like it, there’s the door.”
Naik grinned, “Just wanted to hear it from somebody besides a damn bean counter. I’m good.”
Lal leaned over, saying sotto voice, “He’s one of our problem ‘children,’ if you will. Got hurt in combat, got stuck in logistics during rehab, turned out to be even better loggie. But he hates bean counters with a passion now. Does everything he can to irritate them.”
The captain called out, “Fargo, if you would, please. We need to start fittings. Since you’ve already signed your documents, would you be good enough to go first?”
Fargo sighed, “Sure.” Stripping off his shipsuit and underwear, he stepped up on the rotating platform. Looking down he saw two sets of footprints, then remembered the sequence, attention first.
The captain started the litany, “First position, attention. Feet together, arms at sides for one rotation. Then feet on second footprints, shoulder width, arms out at a forty-five for one rotation. OneSvel will be doing medical scans concurrently. Which way do you dress?”
Fargo answered, “Left,” and completed the rotations, as OneSvel gave him a clean billof health. As he stepped away, he saw Nicole mounting the platform. She completed the rotations, and Fargo couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t do the full depilation, instead, she kept her body hair covering her pubic area. He hastily dressed, as he realized he’d been standing there like an idiot.
Nicole stepped over with a sly smile, “See anything you like, Fargo?” Fargo blushed and stammered, but didn’t answer. Nicole laughed, “That’s all I needed to know.” She dressed in a leisurely fashion as the Ghorkas started through the routine. They stepped back to where Lal was leaning on a counter, as Naik stepped on the platform. Nicole asked curiously, “What’s with the dress question? I didn’t get asked that.”
Fargo shrugged, “It’s which way our dangly bits hang.”
Nicole laughed, “Oh that is just…” Glancing at Naik, she said, “So he dresses, what, right?”
Lal saved Fargo, whose face was beet red, “Yes, the Horse dresses right.”
Nicole looked up at Lal, “Why is he called the Horse?”
Naik, having completed the platform said, “Because I am hung like a horse, and I always please the woman. If you want to be pleased, just give me a call. You will not regret it.”
Nicole’s laughter pealed out, “You? Please me? In your wildest narco dreams, maybe. I doubt that you even have enough blood to get that scrawny thing hard enough to do any good. Maybe the pus ridden whores you paid told you that, and maybe you believe it, but I want a real man. A complete man who can satisfy my mind first, and my body second. I have toys bigger than you dream you are, and they barely satisfy me.”
Naik, stunned by Nicole’s comments, mumbled something and walked off in a daze. Lal looked on in amusement, and Fargo just goggled at her as Lal said, “That’s the best disassembly of a man’s ego that I’ve ever seen.”
Nicole just smiled sweetly, “I was genied as a hostess. I can be nice or naughty.”
Fargo excused himself and went over to Captain Jace, “Question, I never signed anything. What is this Grey Lady thing?”
The captain replied, “You are still a commissioned officer, you have no need to sign. The Grey Lady is the statue that stands on the training grounds on Mars. It was brought from Earth when the Galactic Patrol founded their boot camp on Mars. It was modeled on a statue called Winged Victory of Samothrace, but was supposedly made out of melted down guns in what was known as England. Needless to say, that didn’t last, and the Earth donated it to the schoolhouse as a lasting reminder that guns are needed for victory, in the long run. Every boot learns the story.”
Fargo shrugged, “I never went through boot on Mars, I was Terran Marine, so I did mine on Earth and the Moon. I think I remember something about that from the history books, though.”
Jace smiled, “Grey Lady is the unofficial arm of GalPat. Everybody knows, or so they believe, that GalPat really controls the company, but it’s actually a standalone with a lot of contracts on a number of worlds.”
Fargo’s head snapped around as OneSvel pinged a thought, Fargo, I need your help. I have a dying girl here. Fargo moved quickly to where OneSvel was sitting with a young Ghorka girl and her mother. The girl was listless, almost limp as she sat in a chair. Her heart is giving out. I need to get her to a Med-Comp immediately. Is there one aboard here?
Fargo nodded, “Captain, Nicole, need your assistance. We have a medical emergency, here.”
Captain Jace and Nicole scrambled to Fargo’s side, “What have you got?” Jace asked.
OneSvel’s GalTrans twittered and spit out, “Heart issue. Medbox needed now. Is your unit usable?”
Jace nodded, “Up two decks. I’ll go start prep. Fargo, bring the girl. AI, ping directions to the Medbox to Mr. Fargo’s wrist comp, please.”
Fargo turned to the young girl’s bewildered mother, “Your daughter has some serious medical problems. We would like to put her in the Med-Comp and fix those problems. Will you agree?”
Nicole whispered in the mother’s ear, who whispered back. Nicole said, “Sushma says her name is Tsiring. Her husband is down at White Beach working, so she authorizes you to do what is necessary. She says she must go with the child.”
Fargo nodded as Lal came over, “What is going on, Ethan?”
Fargo picked up Tsiring and headed for the hatch, saying over his shoulder, “Medical emergency, she’s going in the Med-Comp. OneSvel found a serious problem.”
Nicole and Sushma followed Fargo as he carried the limp young girl up the ladders to the medical area, and placed her gently in the open Med-Comp. OneSvel came in moments later, pseudopods seeming to erupt from its host as they started the treatment.
Tsiring went under almost immediately, and OneSvel didn’t bother with removing any clothing. He used the manipulator to simply pull the blouse up, exposing the chest area as a bio agent sprayed the exposed skin. Extensional units in the Med-Comp quickly draped the area, retracted, and came back with scalpels and other instruments.
Quickly slicing her open, the extensionals pulled back ribs and exposed
the heart itself as more extensionals came out with what looked like a needle and thread. The extensionals moved the heart, and blood squirted from a rupture. Moving almost too fast for the eye to follow, the extensionals sewed a part of the still beating heart, and as they retracted, another one sprayed what looked like liquid glue over the site.
At a much more leisurely pace, the Med-Comp completed closing the wound, the manipulator pulled the blouse back down, and dimmed the lights in the Med-Comp. OneSvel turned, his GalTrans twittering, “She will need to stay in the Med-Comp for about four more hours. She will be fine. I am sorry you had to witness that. My apologies.”
With that, OneSvel left the medical unit, heading back to the lounge.
Sushma said, “May I stay here?” She placed her hand on the Med-Comp window, as if to touch Tsiring.
Fargo shrugged, “I don’t see why not.” Turning to Nicole, he asked, “Will you stay with her? I can go to the mess and get you both something to eat and drink.”
Nicole nodded, “Yes, anything will be fine.”
Fargo came back ten minutes later, juggling two trays and liquid spheres, “I tried to get things I thought you would like.”
Sushma was oblivious, sitting with her hand still pressed to the window, but Nicole took the trays and motioned Fargo toward the hatch. As they got there, Nicole looked sharply at him, “Med tech my ass. OneSvel is no more a med tech than I am a secretary. He’s a galaxy class surgeon. We’re going to have a talk when this is all over. Now go!” With a push, she sent a confused Fargo on his way.
The Enclave
Captain Jace grabbed Fargo, “I need to see you for a few minutes.”
Fargo nodded, “Now?”
“Please.” Leading Fargo forward to the bridge, Jace sealed the door, saying, “I have a message for you. Please take the Captain’s chair, and log in.”
Fargo did so, placing his palms on the prints, felt the momentary dislocation and was connected with the Ship’s AI. It immediately asked, “State your name and identification number.”
“Ethan Fargo, eight three four six alpha romeo two four eight.”
The holotank shifted, reforming with a man sitting behind a desk, flags behind him. “Captain Fargo, this is General Cronin. I’d like a minute of your time.” Suddenly the man stopped, got up and came around the desk, “Screw this. Ethan, John Cronin here. I understand you’re now out on the Rim and are having some problems. You know me, or at least I hope you remember me.”
Fargo shivered as he heard that drawl for the first time in over thirty years, thinking, Best CO I ever had, a tenth generation Marine, obviously he’s done pretty well. If he’s a general, damn… He must be the Commandant now! He’s gotta be at least a hundred and ten, but doesn’t look it.”
“Ethan, two things up front. One, your command lace was never removed, nor was it deactivated. Two, that is probably what caused your neuro problems. We’ve seen about one percent that have problems with stasis under high stress. There really isn’t a fix for that. I’m sorry.”
Fargo sat back, stunned, But that was Marine policy, how…
He shifted against the desk, “I know what your actual status is, and I’ve followed your career ever since you were unfairly treated by the Corps. No excuses. I did what I could to mitigate that clusterfuck when I found out, but I was off Earth at the time.”
Cronin placed his hands together, a gesture Fargo remembered as his ‘get the point across position’, “The psyches say you’re losing it because of the folks you’ve lost. You’re not the only one who has those issues. I feel the same for each of those that not only you lost, but the others in the battalion, the division and now the Corps. The depression and frustration are normal, so is the desire to never lead again because you don’t want any more deaths on your hands. As Marines our job was to either make the other guy die, or die trying. You lost, no, we lost, a lot of folks making the other guys die. That was your job, and my job. It’s never pretty, it always hurts, and you never forget them. You’re a Marine, first and foremost. You will not let that shit get you down. Copy Marine?”
Cronin dropped his hands, “At the star level, things are not getting any better with the Goons and the Traders, they’re pushing into the DMZ everywhere they can, trying to get a foothold, and push us out. I know GalPat is forming a set of militias out there, and they need qualified commanders.”
Cronin paused and stepped back behind the desk, then sat and leaned back, “Ethan, I need for you to step up again. Of the list I’ve seen, you are the most qualified combat leader on Hunter. You have more combat and real world experience than any of the others out there, including any five GalPat types on Hunter. Most of them are desk jockeys, filling slots that keep them out of trouble on pacified worlds. I’m afraid your star system is not going to be one of those, shortly. I’ve talked to General Fox at GalScouts, and to General McCary at GalPat, and they both agreed that if the shit hits the fan out there, you’ll be an immediate light colonel, given tactical command of the system, pending more senior combat officers showing up on scene. Foxy says you have one support type local to you, reporting back through his system, which is fine.”
Leaning forward he continued, “Your reports are being sent to all concerned for info, so know that it is important. I know I’m asking a lot, I know you’re having problems with those who’ve already died, and I can’t promise that more won’t die. But Ethan, I know this. Without a good leader, like you, even more will die if the balloon goes up out there. Let me tell you what my grandfather times ten said many years ago in Texas. The way you beat down the nightmares is to remember the good, not the bad. It’s a daily battle. And get a dog.”
Fargo almost yanked his hands off the chair arms, but only looked up at the overhead, then around the bridge, anywhere but the holotank. He suddenly realized he was alone on the bridge. Captain Jace was gone. He finally looked back at the holotank, “If you only knew General, if you only knew.”
As if on cue, Cronin smiled, “And you’re probably wondering why Gramps said get a dog. According to him, they give unconditional love, all you have to do is feed them and give them water. In other words, they’re damn democrats, whatever those were.”
Fargo laughed at the tank, “I have a wolf, a mountain lion and a bear. I guess I’ve got three times the reasons.”
Cronin closed with, “Ethan, you were one of my best and brightest. You’ve always done the right thing, for the right reason. I’m asking you to do that again. Here’s my personal comm code, if there is anything I can do from here. Deity bless and Semper Fi, Marine.”
A comm code swam up across the tank as Cronin’s figure dimmed out.
Fargo pulled his hands off the armrest, put them over his face and scrubbed hard, Shit, I don’t want to do this again. He shook his head, Never again! Damn you Colonel, why did you have to follow me? Why… A soft tap at the door brought him around, “Captain?” Jace said apologetically, “I hope I’m not interrupting?”
Fargo laughed bitterly, “Don’t tell me you didn’t monitor the whole thing, or know what it said.”
Jace replied, “We will do a lot of things to protect ourselves, but will not read other people’s mail or messages, especially not yours. That was private for you, and we respected it as such.”
Fargo wiped his eyes, “Sorry, just a bit touchy right now.”
“Mrs. Levesque is waiting for you. It’s time for the dinner at the enclave.”
Fargo got up with a groan, “Are you attending? Can you eat?”
Jace nodded, “Both Evie and I are attending, yes, we can eat, drink and void with the best of them.”
Fargo chuckled, “I could have done without that last. Lead on.”
***
Captain Jace, Evie, Nicole, and Fargo were seated at the head table with Lalbandur Thapa, OneSvel sat an angle to the table due to its size. Lal was carrying on a conversation with Nicole about the clan’s history, and how they’d ended up on Hunter, Evie was deep in conversation
with Jace and OneSvel. Fargo sat quietly, turning over the message from Cronin.
Nicole finally punched him, “Do you want any of this, or are you just going to stay in a funk all night?”
Fargo looked at her, then took the platter, “Sorry, thinking again.”
Nicole rolled her eyes, “Not even going to bother to ask.”
Fargo managed to keep up for the rest of the meal, even offering a comment or two where it was appropriate, through the nearprawn and nearlamb courses. The nearlamb curry was the best he’d ever had, even if it was a tad warm. He surreptitiously wiped his brow with his napkin after each bite.
They finally got around to the desserts, Rasbari, Nariwal ko Laddu and Kaaju Kamal, each passed on a separate platter. They were all small and round, except the Kaaju, which looked like a flower.
Fargo tentatively bit into the small white ball and was pleasantly surprised at the soothing taste, turning to Nicole he whispered, “Whatever this is, it’s good!”
She smiled, “That’s Rasbari, a milk ball. Pointing to the others she continued, that’s Kaaju, it’s ground up cashews and pistachios, and the other one is Nari, grated coconut, butter, sugar and cardamom. They’re all delicious! Gonna mean an extra mile or two tomorrow on my workout.”
Fargo nodded, “How do you know what all these are?”
“Genied hostess, remember? Also languages. Speaking of which, Lal is wrapping up his speech, so you better get ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Nicole just smiled and popped another Rasbari in her mouth.
Lal switched back to Galactic, saying, “Now I’d like to invite Ethan Fargo to stand.” Fargo stood to polite applause from some, and questioning looks from others. He noticed Jiri and Adhit coming toward the head table, with Adhit carrying something behind his back. Lal graciously motioned for Jiri to speak, and he dropped back into their native language, obviously telling a story.