Carnifex

infected with it, he thought. My only saving grace is that the number of people whom I will favor for familial relation is very small: Lourdes, and the children. Of course, I was infected with it as a boy, when my parents and their friends tried to turn me into a cosmopolitan, too.

Which helped explain his bad mood and his need for the cows to calm him. Lourdes, his second wife and arguably the reason he retained as much sanity as he had, had spoken to him the night prior to try to get him to help a member of her extended family. Her cousin, Marqueli—Carrera had met the girl once, beautiful little thing—was married to one of his soldiers. That soldier was on the medically retired list which, in the Legion, only meant that he was given some other duty out of his normal regiment. In Marqueli Mendoza's husband's case, those duties for the last several years had been going to school, at Legion expense, at the university to earn his baccalaureate.

Jorge Mendoza, former tanker in what was then the Mechanized Cohort, Carlos Martillo, was blind and missing both legs, the result of enemy action in the Sumeri city of Ninewa, early in the war.

The boy—well, he was only twenty- two or three—wanted to continue his studies. His wife, Marqueli, had spoken to Lourdes, apparently, and Lourdes to Carrera, about giving Jorge Mendoza some special help with that.

He wanted to help the boy, of course, anything to help one of his legionaries and especially one who had given up so much in the cause. But he hadn't a clue how to do that, consistent with his principles, and the Mendoza's were due at his office any minute.

* * *

Actually, though Carrera didn't know it, the couple was already there, sitting nervously in the anteroom while Carrera's aide de camp, or AdC, waited for the time to tick away until their last minute appointment was due. They were both very nervous.

Jorge Mendoza showed it. Marqueli didn't, even though she was more nervous for her husband's sake than he was for his own.

'It's a good idea you have, Jorge,' she insisted, placing a warm and comforting hand on his arm. 'Duque Carrera will see that; I'm sure of it. My cousin was sure of it, as well. She agrees it's a wonderful idea and that her husband will support it.'

'Maybe,' Mendoza admitted just as the AdC looked up and said, 'Time, Candidate.'

Into the speaker box on his desk he announced, 'Duque, Warrant Officer Candidate and Mrs. Mendoza are here to see you.'

* * *

Barring exceptional circumstances, Carrera would have had tossed from his office anyone who brought his wife along. Mendoza, legless and sightless, was such an exceptional circumstance.

Can't criticize a man who suffered as much as he has in my service just for bringing along some help. Besides, she's awfully easy on the eyes.

The door opened, allowing the Mendoza's to enter. Yes, she's just as pretty as I remembered. Poor Mendoza, that he can't see that. Then again, he's a fine-looking boy, too. I can see why the girl was drawn to him.

Instead of meeting them at his desk, Carrera stood and indicated a couch for the couple, then took for himself a well-stuffed chair opposite. Mendoza's artificial legs whined slightly as they bent to allow him to sit.

'You want to continue your studies, I am informed,' Carrera began.

'Yes, sir,' Mendoza answered, turning his head to face Carrera. His eyes remained unfocused. 'I had thought to take up teaching at one of the military schools when I finished. But it hit me when I was reading a book that there was something more, something better, I could do. Actually, Marqueli was reading the book to me,' he amended.

Note to self: Library, Braille, pass on to Professor Ruiz to investigate the possibilities, Carrera thought. Even if not worth it to us, maybe it will be good public relations for the Legion.

'Something better?' Carrera asked.

Marqueli pulled a paperback from her purse. Carrera saw that it was one he had had printed by the publishing house he'd had set up under Professor Ruiz's propaganda department. He saw, too, the title: Tropas del Espacio and the letters, 'RAH.'

'How'd you like the translation?' he asked Marqueli.

'It was so-so, I think,' she answered. No one but Carrera and Ruiz knew that Carrera had personally translated the first third or so of the book.

Both deflated and wryly amused, Carrera sighed. Oh, well, can't win 'em all.

'But the original thoughts,' Marqueli continued, 'well . . . tell the Duque, Jorge.'

'History and Moral Philosophy, Duque. There is a need for such a book, a need all over this planet. Balboa needs it as much as anyone.'

Ohhhh, so that's his idea. Not bad. Can I tell myself with a straight face that I am doing this, if I do, for one of my soldiers and not for a man married to my wife's cousin? For my adoptive country and not for a relative? For the world and not for nepotism? That would help.

'And you want to write this book, Candidate Mendoza?'

'I do . . . but it will take time. That, and more education than a baccalaureate.'

'In English,' Carrera said, 'PhD stands for 'piled higher and deeper.' Still, I see your point.'

Carrera then went silent for a while, unconsciously leaving the Mendozas to squirm. If I do support this will I be breaking my own principles? No, I am doing it for one of my troops which is absolutely consistent with my principles. But . . . even worse, maybe I'll look like I'm breaking my own principles. But what if . . . 

He smiled broadly. It's such a joy when the answer just jumps out at you. 'Candidate Mendoza . . . Mrs. Mendoza. I think your idea is a fine one, especially if you broaden it to the question of which one should place first, family or nation or civilization or religion.' It's a question to which I need an answer myself. 'There is a new program for the Legion.' Damned straight it's new since I just thought of it. 'It's so new we haven't even had a chance to advertise it yet. Actually, we haven't even yet worked out the application procedures. But we are going to offer, annually, a half a dozen scholarships for higher education to deserving veterans of the Legion. There will be a battle- or service-connected disability preference.'

Am I quick on my feet or what?

'You'll have to apply and be interviewed by either myself or Duque Parilla and a board we will designate. At that board you will have to make a presentation of your intended project. The first board will meet in about six months. I suggest you have your presentation ready by then,' he finished, standing to indicate the interview was over.

Marqueli, too, stood, followed by Jorge once he felt her lift from the couch.

'Thank you, sir,' Mendoza said. Until Marqueli nudged his right arm he was uncertain as to whether to offer his hand to a superior and could not see that Carrera had thrust his own out. At the nudge he did offer his hand, which Carrera took and shook warmly enough.

The tiny Marqueli waited until the handshake was done, then launched herself at Carrera, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her lovely head to his chest.

'Thank you, Duque,' she said, tears of gratitude shining in her eyes for the favor she was certain had just been done her husband. 'Thank you.'

15/9/466 AC, Ninewa Province, Sumer

The farmer plowing his field waved at the passing column of legionary infantry. Newly promoted centurion, junior grade, Ricardo Cruz, taking up the rear, waved back. Curiously, the farmer kept waving, even after Cruz had returned it. Cruz's eyes narrowed and he looked more carefully at the farmer. Yes, the man's wave was definitely exaggerated.

'Thank you muchly, Mister Farmer,' he muttered.

'Platoon leader,' he said into the earpiece-cum-microphone he wore. It was a minor modification to a civilian system, a short-range wireless that ran through a longer ranged one. The Legion had adopted the communication system, or Comsys, it because it was cheap, effective, and available almost immediately.

Almost immediately a voice answered, 'Centurion Arredondo. What is it, Cruz?'

'That farmer we just passed. I think he's trying to give us a warning, boss.'

'Maybe,' Arredondo answered. It was even likely. As time had passed and the insurgency weakened, more and more civilians had proved willing to help both the Legion and the Sumeri National Forces to flush out more of the enemy. As more of the enemy had been flushed out, more civilians had become willing to help. The guerillas were really on the ropes over most of the country. Worse, they knew it and so did the civilians among whom they tried to operate.

It could easily have gone the