The Lotus Eaters

* * *

The sun was beginning to set in the west when Carrera, still sitting at the dock, became aware of the presence of some small number of others behind him. He wasn't sure how he knew, but those presences seemed small. He turned and saw half a dozen boys from the nearby military academy, standing quietly with trays of food. They all looked pretty thin to Carrera.

'We didn't want to disturb you, sir,' said one of the boys; his nametag read, 'Porras.' 'But we saw you out here waiting pretty much all day and . . . well . . . we scrounged you and your driver and guards some food. From the mess. The mess sergeant said it would be all right.'

Carrera nodded his head at the boy, then at his companions. 'Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate that. And . . . I think I have been remiss. I should have thought to feed the men with me.'

That last was true enough for the purpose, but wasn't all the truth. In fact, Lourdes and Mitchell's wife had packed a lunch for the small group; they'd just not been especially interested in eating it, given the miserably wet Puerto Lindo heat.

'Would you boys care to join me?' Carrera asked.

'Oh, no sir . . . we couldn't, sir . . . we haven't got perm—'

'Ahem,' Carrera said, 'I'm sure your commandant won't object. As a matter of fact, consider it an order.'

Porras answered for the group. 'As long as you put it that way, Duque—'

'I do'

'—we'd be pleased to join you.'

'Good, and while we're at it,' his voice changed to a shout, 'Captain Quijana, join us if you will.'

* * *

'Oh, no, sir,' said Porras, around a half a sandwich. 'This place is great. It's hard, yeah, but it's still great. Always enough to eat. No cost to my parents. They don't even have to clothe me. And the money saved sure goes a long way back home. And we get to train. With weapons.'

Carrera nodded while thinking, I hate poverty. Unfortunately, you can't just pull people out of it without ruining them. The most you can do is help them help themselves. And even that's tricky.

One of the boys added, 'My parents have more money than Julio's, Duque, but he's basically right. This is a good education, better than my parents could have afforded for me.'

Well that's something in my favor, Carrera thought. I wonder how far it will carry me given that I'm going to use these boys like expendable property.

One of the boys pointed out toward the island at the mouth of the harbor. 'Duque,' the boy said, 'look; the submarine's returning.'

'Thank God,' Quijana whispered.

Chapter Fourteen

One factor that tends to bring this mutual looting about more quickly is the presence of an enfranchised, more or less large, but distinct minority within a generally pluralistic society. This happens quite without reference to race or culture; it is the minority status that drives the event. Perhaps better said, the minority status, because all minorities are or feel they are under threat in one way or another, tends to drive those members to vote as fairly cohesive blocks to defend their perceived interests, even as elites move to exploit those fears for their own ends.

Even where the minorities are relatively wealthy and influential themselves, often governments find they must buy off, rather, seem to be buying off, the population at large to distract attention from programs designed for the benefit of those minorities.

Moreover, we see in the Tauran Union a sincere attempt to create a state composed of nothing but minorities, even as we see a blizzard of currency fly from place to place, interest group to interest group, with the government taking, as usual, its enormous cut.

—Jorge y Marqueli Mendoza,

Historia y Filosofia Moral,

Legionary Press, Balboa,

Terra Nova, Copyright AC 468

Anno Condita 471 Restaurante MarBella, Ciudad Balboa, Balboa, Terra Nova

The restaurant was small, clean, and perhaps a little quaint. Moreover, it looked out over the sea to the north. Over the mud flats exposed by the receded tide, seagulls whirled and dived in the warm wet air. Past the seagulls, an airship soared majestically just below the clouds, carrying passengers and cargo from Colombia del Norte to the Federated States to the south. On the open air veranda, the proprietors had cleared away all the customers, seating them inside.

Alone but for his guards, Carrera waited for a man self-described as an 'Emissary of Peace' from a group that claimed to wish nothing but prosperity for and cordial relations with Parilla, Carrera, and Balboa. Carrera had chosen the MarBella as the meeting place because it served, as far as he was concerned, the very best corvina—a particularly savory type of fish—in the Republic.

Soult and Sergeant Major McNamara entered the veranda, followed by a quite light skinned Santandern wearing