“Whether they want to pay for it or not,” the king shot back.
“I was hoping we could just talk about the military problems,” Trouble said.
“We can’t talk about the military without talking about the money,” the king pointed out. “And we can’t talk about the money without talking about taxes. Which also means we have to talk about getting the taxpayer on board with this whole project. Don’t you just love democracy?”
“Lousy form of government,” Trouble admitted, “but the best anyone’s come up with. Hey, am I quoting someone?”
“Very likely,” the king agreed. “You can look up the quote when you have spare time. Now, boys, let’s dig in. I want ideas and I want them now.”
Ruth picked Trouble up when he finally got free. It was late in the evening by then, and he was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
“You hungry, dear?”
“No. They’ve been pouring coffee down our gullets all day, along with sandwiches. I’m too exhausted to bite anything. Just take me home and pour me into bed.”
She took him home, but he found he wanted a shower before the bed. Still, Ruth was waiting as he stumbled from the bathroom.
He hit the pillow and didn’t even bounce.
“Rough day?” was all Ruth said as she began to massage the knots in his back.
Ruth had once taken a course on massage. Trouble wasn’t sure that what she did to him was by any of the books, but there was no question that his wife’s hands roving his body was a delight to endure.
“Yeah, rough day,” Trouble mumbled into the pillow.
“You want to talk about it?” was accompanied by hands working down toward the small of his back.
“Not much I can say,” he said. “Not much that would surprise you, anyway,” he managed to get out, between several moans of pleasure as his back relaxed under her wandering fingers.
“Try and surprise me,” she said.
“Ray’s an ass,” he told the pillow.
“Nope. No surprise there,” she said, and her fingers wandered below the small of his back.
“Please don’t go there. I really am tired, and I’m afraid if you start something, I’ll fall asleep right in the middle of it.”
She settled down beside him, but her hands still roved, soothing the taut muscles of his back. “You really are beat.”
“Honey, you don’t know how hard it is not to kill idiots when they so richly deserve being throttled.”
“You’re getting forgetful, aren’t you? We’ve been in meetings where I damn near did kill some of the idiots.”
“Yeah,” Trouble said. “I guess I am forgetting old times. Strange how we remember all the good times and manage to forget the rest.”
“Not strange, just very human, love. Now you go to sleep, and I’ll keep you safe.”
Trouble didn’t manage another word. Sometimes it’s just smart for a husband to let his wife get the final word. Oftentimes.
Especially when he’s really tired.
“General, you are wanted at the Royal Court,” woke Trouble. Considering how loud the voice was, it must have been the fifth or fifteenth time.
“Thank you, computer, I’m up,” he said, feeling not at all like getting up.
Somehow, Ruth was still sleeping beside him. He made his way to the bathroom and ran a hot shower. With time short, he shaved there.
No surprise, Ruth handed him a cup of coffee as he headed for the closet. Today, he’d wear his uniform with full ribbons. If he had to speak for the poor damned souls on the tip of the spear, he’d look like someone who’d been there.
“We’ve got trouble,” Ruth said as she turned away and clicked on the TV in the bedroom. It was an old set they hadn’t used much in the last fifteen years. Not since they had both officially and finally retired.
They weren’t about to let the news be all that important.
The TV came on to a news channel. There was Vicky Peterwald. All redheaded and voluptuous.
“Damn, what is she almost not wearing?” Trouble said, dressing.
“Don’t worry, she won’t be wearing it in a minute.”
“She’s talking about the Voyage of Discovery and the battle, isn’t she?”
“Definitely.”
“So why’s she dressed like a stripper?”
Ruth sighed. “So all the media outlets will carry this after she falls out of it not just once, but twice!”
“Did she just say our Kris seduced the other admirals into attacking the aliens?”
Ruth shook her head. “I ran it back three times the first time I heard her say that. The words don’t quite add up to that accusation. But if you’re inclined to think that way, it will be a tiny hop, skip, and jump to that conclusion.”
“Ray is going to go ballistic.”
“Gee, and he called for you right off the bat. Think you can catch him on the second bounce?”
Now it was Trouble’s turn to shake his head. “Who’s going to catch me?”
“I’ll be right here, waiting. Just call me before you’re so all tuckered out that you got nothing for your best girlfriend.”
“I’ll try, honey, I’ll try, but no promises. It’s Ray we’re dealing with.”
“Ray and our Kris,” Ruth said. “Any chance I could come along? Maybe put an oar in the water for all us women. Women who’ve been out there as well as waited for you big lug-heads to come home.”
Trouble just shook his head.
“Yeah. Ruth is too close to Rita,” she said.
“And you even look a bit like her, love. Even I’ve made the mistake once or twice.”
“Too many ghosts in that man’s life.” Ruth said.
The drive to the Royal Chambers was a quite one.
Ray was in a full Wild Man mode by the time Trouble walked into this office.
“Trouble, has your granddaughter been sleeping with the admirals?” he demanded before Trouble was hardly in the door.
“My great-granddaughter also happens to be your great-granddaughter,” Trouble reminded His Royal Highhorseness. “Remember, she hasn’t even managed to bed that handsome guy we arranged to take care of her security, and he’s always at her elbow.”
“You sure?”
“Ray, Ruth is sure.”
“Yeah, and women usually know before us guys do,” Ray said, seeming to accept that… for the moment.
“Besides,” Trouble went on, “we have her report from before they sortied to contact. The admirals bought in because they wanted to buy in.”
“That was only her report,” Crossie put in, gently, like a snake hissing.
“The decision was made in an online conference,” Mac pointed out. From the looks of the poor fellow, he’d slept in his office. He was badly in need of a shower, a shave, and a less wrinkled shirt.
“They would be in the Wasp ’s logs, wouldn’t they?” Trouble said, knowing very well what the answer was but wanting to walk as softly as he could… at least before noon.
It clearly was going to be a long day.
“Send for those logs,” Ray snapped. “I want the originals. That ship’s a wreck. Bring the logs and storage out of the Wasp. Then scrap her where she is.”
“I’m ordering that as you speak,” Mac said, turning away to issue the necessary orders through his commlink.
