The Lotus Eaters

seen it. His goals are not normal.'

'You think he's a Marxist?' Chapayev asked.

Sitnikov shook his head. 'No . . . not a Marxist. Not a capitalist either. He's . . . I don't know that there's a word for it; but he wants to change this country as much as the Red Tsar ever wanted to change Volga, and to change it as profoundly. But what he wants to change it into . . . I don't know. It's as if he doesn't let it be known so that no one can resist him in achieving his goal.

'The Red Tsars let everyone know what they wanted and applied pressure to force the society into the mold they picked. Carrera doesn't. He seems to be eliminating some things, true, but then he mostly entices people to fit themselves into a mold they can't even see. He's a community organizer, and no one in the community seems to realize they're being organized.

'Think about it, Victor,' Sitnikov continued, 'to get anywhere, these days, a Balboan must associate with Carrera's army; to become a part of his team. The Red Tsars used the power of the state to force change. Carrera is making the state irrelevant. Balboans who need or want something are getting out of the habit of looking to the government. More and more they turn to Carrera, or rather, the Legion. But that is the same thing now. And he's every bit a ruthless as the Tsar was.'

Sitnikov pulled out a cigarette and lit it. 'Despite which, I'll continue to work for him because . . . because he's . . . a terribly good soldier. Do you know how rare that is; in any army, to work for a really good soldier?'

Chapayev said nothing. Sitnikov asked, 'Is that why you are here, too? I asked Samsonov, but he wouldn't tell much of anything except that you were one of his best officers. Still, I had to wonder . . . why would he let one of his best go? You were back in the rodina not long ago, weren't you?'

'I found I didn't belong there anymore.' Chapayev cut off that line of conversation.

'Nor any of us, I suspect.'

Sitnikov ignored that. He asked, 'So is Balboa your home now? Do you even have a home, Victor?'

'I won't know until I find it, will I, sir?'

Sitnikov shrugged. 'Would you like to make this your home for a while?' He once again cast his arms out to encompass the school.

'Why not?' Chapayev said with no noticeable enthusiasm.

'Fine. The day before we open this school for the next semester, you are promoted to Tribune III. I believe that makes you one of the dozen or so youngest Tribune IIIs in the country. You will be the assistant to the Balboan legate who commands the school, but you will report to me, as he does. I want you, in particular, to concern yourself with the light infantry training of the cadets.'

'How much time will I have for their training?'

'The boys spend two military days a week. Monday through Thursday are for academics. Friday and Saturday are their military training days. Sunday is parade, church, and inspection. By the way, how is your Spanish coming?'

'It needs work.'

'You have two months. Make that your first priority.'

'Sir.'

'I suggest that the best way to learn might be to find yourself a horizontal dictionary,' Sitnikov added.

'A what?'

Sitnikov shook his head, smiling at Chapayev's innocence. 'A girl, Victor, go find a girl.' Sitnikov cocked his head slightly, musing on something. With a broad smile, he said, 'Now that I think about it, Victor, the Castilian, Colonel Munoz-Infantes has a very good relationship with us here. I think perhaps you should also become our liaison to him. That will give you a bit more motivation and opportunity to work on your Spanish.'

Casa Linda, Balboa, Terra Nova

Lourdes still served as Carrera's very private and very confidential secretary, as she had since he'd first hired her, more than a dozen years before.

'The big advantage,' he said to her, as she laid the latest consolidated Research, Development and Procurement Report on his desk, 'is that now I don't have to pay you a regular salary.'

'Watch out,' she answered, 'I might go on strike for better working conditions. More sex, for example.' She glanced, meaningfully, from Carrera's office toward their bedroom.

'Why is it,' he asked, 'that you always get hornier when you're pregnant and stay that way until the baby's a year old?'

'Are you complaining?'

'Oh, not a bit. But you're a lot younger than I am. I foresee the day when I knock you up as the last gasp measure of an old man and you then kill me with your insatiable demands.' He sighed. 'Can't think of a better way to go.'

'You better believe it,' she said, turning away from the desk. He was struck, as always, by the fact that, recently pregnant or not, she never lost her shape. Bigger breasts? Yes. And yum. A bit displaced in front? Yes, but that didn't last. And from behind she was still the willowy girl he'd married.

'Anything interesting in the report?' he called after her.

'They finished testing on the frontal composite armor for the SPATHA,' she answered, without turning. 'Likewise the gun. And the Global Locating System Interdictor has some technical problems they need a tactical solution to.'