Read Online The Lotus Eaters by Tom Kratman - Free Book Online
Authors: Tom Kratman
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Space Opera, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Science Fiction - Adventure
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accordance with the World League's Charter of Human Rights."
"Whatever it takes, then." Janier agreed, with a shrug.
Rome, Province of Italy, Old Earth
Though she'd come prepared, in more ways than one, to do whatever it took to secure her ends, Wallenstein balked, for the first time in a long life. It surprised no one more than herself, too. Still, memories of servicing her "betters" since she'd been a teenager had risen to the surface. So, too, had memories of being betrayed and abandoned by those "betters," once they'd had their fill of her. I've prostituted myself for well over a century and what do I have to show for it? Nothing? No, not nothing, but not enough, either. And enough is enough. Diadems are enough. Teenagers being cut up on the Ara Pacis is enough. Enough! The confusion, uncertainty, and indecision on her face was replaced with a steely hard determination.
"No," Marguerite said to the SecGen. "You don't need me for that and doing it would say nothing positive about my ability to deal with the problems you and yours have created and let fester. You want your cock sucked; ring the bell for the major domo. I've had enough of you Class Ones and your puerile obsessions with your genitalia."
Without bothering with a departing proskynesis, Marguerite turned on her heels and began walking, head proudly erect, to pick up her valise.
"Stop," the SecGen commanded. Unseen, he smiled, the smile possibly having an element of satisfaction to it. "Have a seat. You are, of course, right. I don't need you for your mouth but for your mind. You're also right that we have problems of our own making."
Wallenstein did stop. Her chin raised in anger. "I have conditions," she said, without turning.
"Let us discuss them, then," the SecGen agreed. "And you may assume that whatever may happen with the general meeting with the Consensus tomorrow, my word will carry."
Furiocentro Convention Center, Balboa City
Carrera, a bit battered perhaps but beaming all the same, ascended the stage and walked to the podium with its microphone. He already knew, from McNamara's command to the boys to "Cease and fucking desist," that the volume was properly adjusted anyway.
Well, you'd expect little things like that to go right with a good organization.
"Without belaboring the obvious," Carrera began, "It's good to be back. I'm . . . I'm truly sorry it took so long." He shook his head slightly. "I'm not going to give you any explanations. That's not because you don't deserve them; it's that there aren't—"
A warrant officer near the front shouted out, "We don't need any explanations, sir. It's enough that you are back."
Carrera smiled, half shyly. "Thank you, then, again, for that. So let's get to the meat of it; where do we go from here and why?
"The why should be obvious, our base, our country , is under occupation, both by foreigners and by an illegal rump of a corrupt government that those foreigners protect. To get rid of them requires at least the threat of war, and possibly the actuality. They know this, and so we can and must assume that they, too, are preparing for war.
"We've got three things," Carrera continued. "We've got a home base—or most of one—with a government that cares for us. We've got twenty-four regular line combat cohorts in the ground elements, plus another eighteen drilling reserve cohorts, mixed infantry, mechanized, and cazadores , and individual reservists enough to fill twice that. We've got supporting arms for all of those, generally in plenty though we are short in some areas, notably artillery and air. And . . . we've got enough money, over eighty billion Federated States Drachma, to make every regular in the Legion here or elsewhere wealthy for several lives, let alone one."
He gave a shrug and waved a hand deprecatingly. "I don't want the money. I never have, for its own sake. As far as I'm concerned, you could split it up among yourselves. But there's one big problem. I could give you the
"Whatever it takes, then." Janier agreed, with a shrug.
Rome, Province of Italy, Old Earth
Though she'd come prepared, in more ways than one, to do whatever it took to secure her ends, Wallenstein balked, for the first time in a long life. It surprised no one more than herself, too. Still, memories of servicing her "betters" since she'd been a teenager had risen to the surface. So, too, had memories of being betrayed and abandoned by those "betters," once they'd had their fill of her. I've prostituted myself for well over a century and what do I have to show for it? Nothing? No, not nothing, but not enough, either. And enough is enough. Diadems are enough. Teenagers being cut up on the Ara Pacis is enough. Enough! The confusion, uncertainty, and indecision on her face was replaced with a steely hard determination.
"No," Marguerite said to the SecGen. "You don't need me for that and doing it would say nothing positive about my ability to deal with the problems you and yours have created and let fester. You want your cock sucked; ring the bell for the major domo. I've had enough of you Class Ones and your puerile obsessions with your genitalia."
Without bothering with a departing proskynesis, Marguerite turned on her heels and began walking, head proudly erect, to pick up her valise.
"Stop," the SecGen commanded. Unseen, he smiled, the smile possibly having an element of satisfaction to it. "Have a seat. You are, of course, right. I don't need you for your mouth but for your mind. You're also right that we have problems of our own making."
Wallenstein did stop. Her chin raised in anger. "I have conditions," she said, without turning.
"Let us discuss them, then," the SecGen agreed. "And you may assume that whatever may happen with the general meeting with the Consensus tomorrow, my word will carry."
Furiocentro Convention Center, Balboa City
Carrera, a bit battered perhaps but beaming all the same, ascended the stage and walked to the podium with its microphone. He already knew, from McNamara's command to the boys to "Cease and fucking desist," that the volume was properly adjusted anyway.
Well, you'd expect little things like that to go right with a good organization.
"Without belaboring the obvious," Carrera began, "It's good to be back. I'm . . . I'm truly sorry it took so long." He shook his head slightly. "I'm not going to give you any explanations. That's not because you don't deserve them; it's that there aren't—"
A warrant officer near the front shouted out, "We don't need any explanations, sir. It's enough that you are back."
Carrera smiled, half shyly. "Thank you, then, again, for that. So let's get to the meat of it; where do we go from here and why?
"The why should be obvious, our base, our country , is under occupation, both by foreigners and by an illegal rump of a corrupt government that those foreigners protect. To get rid of them requires at least the threat of war, and possibly the actuality. They know this, and so we can and must assume that they, too, are preparing for war.
"We've got three things," Carrera continued. "We've got a home base—or most of one—with a government that cares for us. We've got twenty-four regular line combat cohorts in the ground elements, plus another eighteen drilling reserve cohorts, mixed infantry, mechanized, and cazadores , and individual reservists enough to fill twice that. We've got supporting arms for all of those, generally in plenty though we are short in some areas, notably artillery and air. And . . . we've got enough money, over eighty billion Federated States Drachma, to make every regular in the Legion here or elsewhere wealthy for several lives, let alone one."
He gave a shrug and waved a hand deprecatingly. "I don't want the money. I never have, for its own sake. As far as I'm concerned, you could split it up among yourselves. But there's one big problem. I could give you the
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