A Season for Slaughter

Chapter 31 Earthly Delights

The entire staircase came rising up after us. Captain Harbaugh pushed past me, already snapping orders into her headset, Lizard following in her wake.

"Uh, General-

"Later-" she said curtly. "There's a mission briefing in the main lounge, half an hour from now. You have just enough time to clean up. I'll see you in my quarters afterward." And then she was gone.

I stopped and looked around. We were in a grand lobby, at least an acre across. Two stewards waited beside a reception desk. Several other attendants were visible too, talking on headsets or working at terminals, probably taking care of the myriad routine matters associated with any large operation. A few people glanced in my direction, then turned away again with deliberate nonchalance. It wasn't exactly my greatest entrance. I was as out of place here as a warthog in a beauty pageant.

Despite the fact that this was now a military vessel, most of the original fittings remained. The atmosphere was one of quiet, understated elegance. Everything was spacious-there was space here to waste. Pale walls, high ceilings, mirrors, hanging screens; colored lights, feathery drapes, and a thick, muffling carpet, all made for a relaxed and stylish environment without serious weight penalties. Just about everything aboard this vessel was made of woven ceramics and lightweight foamed-polymers. You could transport a herd of elephants in the hold of this ship if you had a mind to.

"This way, Captain. I'll take your duffel."

The steward was only a teenager, but so soft-spoken and respectful, he could have been any age at all. He wore close-fitting shorts and a knit pastel T-shirt. His name tag identified him as Shaun. He had fine sandy hair that he wore in bangs, and a wide friendly grin. But he was almost too pretty to be a boy. I wondered if he was gay. "Is everybody on this crew under the age of sixteen?" I asked.

Shaun smiled politely. Evidently, he'd been asked this question a lot. "I think the captain is over twenty-one." Abruptly, there was a gentle bump from beneath our feet; almost unnoticeable. "Oh," he said, gesturing me to follow. "You'll want to see this." He was as proud as if he had built the Bosch himself. His demeanor was friendly and refreshing. He made no mention of my appearance, but he was visibly impressed and more than a little intrigued by the undeniable evidence of my recent battle experience. I had the weirdest sensation of having been plucked abruptly out of one world and dropped haphazardly into the next, without instructions, program book, or score card. I was feeling not just dirty, but disconnected and confused. So much had happened, was still happening

Shaun led me to the starboard observation deck. It ran the entire length of the vessel; it was an astonishing exercise in visual perspective. The corridor simply stretched away and vanished in a distant blur. The decking underneath was light and bouncy; the observation decks also doubled as jogging tracks.

There was a railing along the outer wall, except it wasn't a wall; it was an endless length of hardened glass, four meters high, angled outward, and so transparent, you could almost believe there was nothing there at all. It was like standing on a balcony, or a mile-long shelf. You could lean over and look straight down at the ground below.

"On the cabin level, there are private balconies. You'll have to keep the windows closed when we're cruising faster than ten kilometers, but Captain Harbaugh usually tries to arrange a half hour of slow cruising at sunset, so you can use your balcony then. Most people find it very romantic. I don't know if we'll be able to do much of that this trip. I guess once we're on-site, though, you'll be able to keep the windows open as much as you want."

"We'll be over a major Chtorran infestation. Caution mandates that we keep the windows closed and maintain integrity."

"Oh, here we go," he said. "We're away."

Whatever he had felt had been too gentle for me to notice, but I stepped closer to the window and peered down. We were already airborne. The afternoon heat fell away beneath us as we floated slowly up through the crisp tropical sunlight. We lifted silently over the patterned quilt of Panama, a baked terrain of rumpled yellow and brown fields, clusters of pale buildings with red tile roofs and blue-green swimming pools, scattered industrial installations, and even the occasional glass tower. Everything was bordered and cut by narrow black ribbons that wound off into the distance. Tiny vehicles trundled slowly along the roads.

"How high are we going to go?"

"I'll have to check. It's a matter of ballast, air pressure, wind currents, weight, and fuel-

"But usually… ?" I prompted.

"Usually, the captain stays within a half kilometer of the ground. She says she likes to pick the right height for enjoying the view." He hesitated, then he added, "Sometimes we go higher. It sorta depends on the scenery. Sometimes it shoots."

"Mm. That's a cheerful thought."

"If you're ready, I'll take you to your cabin now."

I followed him back through the corridor to a high-ceilinged, sprawling lounge. "Is this the main lounge?"

"No, this is The Wine Cellar." To my confused look, he explained. "That's the name of this bar. It's sort of a joke. It's the only bar below the main deck. The main deck is one flight up, and the main lounge is impossible to miss, it's almost directly above us. But the forward lounge has the best view. The aft lounge is nice too. There's a slidewalk that runs the length of the ship: The cabin level is above that. This way, Captain-"

He led me up a wide flight of stairs to the most lavishly appointed deck of the airship. In the days when she was still the Fantasia, she had offered the finest accommodations in the world. Her cuisine was five star, and her service was unmatched anywhere. All the cabins were three-room suites, or larger. Space was not at a premium here.

Even though she had been legally requisitioned by the North American Operations Authority, and was now officially an Authority warship, she was still staffed and operated by the employees of Amazing, Inc. Lizard had explained it to me once. The corporation had over 650 million caseys invested in this airship and they were extremely reluctant to relinquish her to the Authority under any conditions. Aside from the fact that they would be losing millions of dollars of business, they didn't believe they'd ever get their airship back again. They found a friendly judge, one who stayed bought, and papered the walls with restraining orders, injunctions, and show-cause orders. None of them would have stopped the ultimate seizure of the vessel, but cumulatively, each and every piece of paper served to delay the takeover until it could be processed through the already-clogged judicial calendar.

Eventually, the Authority got the message. The paper-making machinery was not going to be turned off. They compromised by contracting to purchase a seven-year lease on the airship's services, at 85 percent of pre-Chtorran rates, payable in chocolate, gold, coffee, oil, or dollars. Hardly much of a compromise. More like highway robbery. But the Authority needed the ship for Operation Nightmare. So they paid.

In return, they got the largest, most luxurious flying hotel this side of Luna City. Amazing, Inc., kept control of their asset and maintained their operation, selling directly now to a single customer. The corporation supplied all crew and support services, consistent with their previously established standard, the Army picked up the bill, and Congress reexamined the tax code with ominous intent.

In sheer dollar outlay, the entire operation was a colossal expenditure, impossible to justify; but in terms of morale and manpower, it was the most cost-effective solution possible. It spared the North American Operations Authority the headache of learning how to support, maintain, and fly the airship; not to mention the additional headache of finding, training, and keeping qualified ground crew, flight crew, stewards, chefs, and ancillary staff. Eveni more important, it let the military and scientific teams concentrate more of their energies on the mission than on the maintenance of the transportation.

Flying aboard her, with her uncompromisingly good menu, was like having an on-site R-and-R. The boost to morale she provided to everyone who journeyed aboard her, or supported her, or even saw her float by overhead, was justification enough. It was like saying, "See, not everything worthwhile is gone. See, good things are still possible."

The accommodations, of course, remained first-rate. There was no need to cut up or subdivide her expansive suites to accommodate more passengers, because there weren't going to be more passengers. Weight was the determining factor here, not space; the limit was three hundred passengers, regardless of how much room each was assigned; and there was more than enough space aboard this airship for each and every one of them.

Everything inside the Hieronymus Bosch was big. How could it not be? The one thing an airship has is plenty of room. You can have as much as you want, as long as you don't fill it with anything. The Bosch, according to the brochures I'd seen, had some magnificent theaters, ballrooms, and gymnasiums. At one point, the designers had even considered a swimming pool, but the weight penalty had ultimately proven prohibitive. If her passenger load could have been reduced to 125, it might have been possible; but then the cost of a ticket would have been three times as much. Oh, well… I wasn't paying for it anyway. I could afford to complain.

Shaun led me down a long corridor on the starboard side of the main level to a door with a star on it. "I hope you don't mind, we had to put you with General Tirelli." He unlocked the door with a plastic card.

"Uh, I don't mind."

"She's in the big bedroom. I've already put your gear in here." He pointed toward the other bedroom on the opposite side of the suite's living room. I followed him in. If this was the small bedroom, I couldn't imagine how big the main bedroom was. The room was huge. The bed was big enough for six, eight if they were friendly; but you could probably lift it with one hand. All of the furniture was cast out of flexifoam; it had that bouncy-fluffy look.

I wondered what Lizard had intended by this arrangement. Which bedroom was I going to sleep in tonight? So far, she'd given me no clue at all.

"Do you want me to hang these up for you?" Shaun held up my duffel.

"Uh, no. It's all right. Just toss it in the closet." The closet alone was big enough to park a car in.

"Bathroom's in here. The tub is probably a little deeper than you're used to, so be careful. It's three meters long; this controls the water jets, this controls the bubbles; the spa is automatically timed. Don't worry about the water, the law only requires one trip through the recycler-we give it three before it's used again. This panel controls the tanning lights. This gives you steam, this gives you dry heat; please keep the glass door closed when you're using the sauna. This is the massage table. You know how to use one, don't you?"

I nodded, dumbly. "Are all the cabins outfitted like this?"

"We have only one class of accommodation."

"This is amazing."

"Yes, sir. That's our name. Out here's the balcony. See that light? When it's red, the windows are automatically locked. There'll be a chime and the light will turn green when it's okay to go out. Then it automatically unlocks. Over here's the bar. We restock it every morning. The Sober-Ups are down here. These are extra-strength; they'll give you quite a synaptic buzz while you're coming down, so you'll want to be careful with them. If you have any specific tastes in liquor or soft drinks, let me know, or punch it into the terminal here. The ship's library is one of the best in the world. Just punch here for index. You'll find videos, music, books, reference works-oh, yes, we've got a full military library too, including a connection with all three of the military and science networks. The phones are standard; it's a full video link."

He led me back into the living room. "There's a projection screen in here. This button lowers it, see? Don't worry about playing your music or your movies too loud. Every room has three feet of foam insulation. Here, this is the help button. It explains everything that's available in the cabin or anywhere on the ship." He smiled at me brightly, "If you have any other questions, I'd be happy to answer them."

I felt like I was out of breath. "Shaun," I said. "I have this feeling that it doesn't matter what I could think of. You've probably already found a way to provide it, right?"

"Well…" he began.

"What?"

"There was a passenger once who asked room service to send him up an elephant ear on a bun."

"And-?"

"Well, it was late, and the kitchen had been busy. We were out of buns."

I laughed in spite of myself. "That joke is so old, it's wearing suspenders. Is there anything else I need to know? Which button do I press for the harem?"

I'd said it only as a casual wisecrack, but Shaun merely stepped over to the help panel. Without batting an eye, he called up the Companionship menu and displayed it on the wall-sized projection screen. "Male or female?" he asked.

I was so startled, I couldn't answer. I just shook my head as if it didn't make a difference.

"We have a very enthusiastic staff," he said. "And many of the attendants are also available for massage and bed-warming services." He started flashing pictures on the huge screen, alternating between handsome men and attractive women of all types and yes. Only a few were completely nude; most of the poses were as innocently seductive as photos taken at a friendly beach party. There was nothing salacious at all about the presentation.

"If you see anyone you like," said Shaun, "you can make a reservation right now. It's part of the service package; everything on the ship is covered under the Authority contract." He explained, "It's already paid for. So you might as well take advantage."

I didn't know whether to be embarrassed or delighted. I'd thought I'd seen everything. Once again, I'd been wrong. "Bedwarming. I liked that. Nice euphemism." The company offered the service, the passengers partook; the boys and girls earned a little extra-or a lot-the company took a commission and billed the Authority. I could have been offended at the waste of money, but the money was worthless anyway. Only not everybody knew it yet.

As an afterthought, I asked, "Is your picture in there?" Shaun punched another button, and a wall-sized display of Shaun wearing nothing but a smile and a towel appeared. Actually, he wasn't even wearing the towel. He was just holding it stretched out in front of him. He was nude, facing away from the camera, facing a mirror, and looking back over his shoulder at the photographer with a happy expression. It was the classic Betty Grable pose. The full-length minor would have revealed all of the rest of his charms, except for the towel he was holding-it was a very small towel-across his loins, but he was holding it tight enough against his body to outline that part of his anatomy that a prospective customer might be most curious about. All in all, it was obvious that Shaun knew his business-as well as his pleasure. I glanced from the screen to Shaun. He smiled happily back. Well, that answered that. But I still found it difficult to accept casually. I guessed I was an old-fashioned girl after all.

"Would you like me to come by after dinner tonight?" he asked. "I'd really like to," he offered.

A nasty thought flashed quickly across my mind; I wondered if he really meant it, or if he was supposed to say that. Did he say that to every passenger?

"Um-" I began. "Thanks, Shaun. That's the nicest offer I've had in a long time, and maybe under other circumstances, I'd take you up on it, but I'm in a relationship right now. I don't think it'd be appropriate." It was my all-purpose answer, a safe way of saying no without hurting anybody's feelings. Curiously this time, every word of it was true.

"Sure," he said. "If you change your mind, let me know. I'd really like to wrestle with you. You're real sexy." He handed me the plastic card. "Here's your key. I'll be your regular attendant. Mitzi will also be available later today." He started for the door. "Oh, wait a minute, Shaun." I was fumbling in my pocket for a ten-casey coin.

"Thanks, but that's not necessary. Tips are already covered too." I must have looked surprised, because he said, "It's part of our job not to accept tips. We're paid well enough that we don't need them or want them." For the first time since he'd begun his proud tour of the airship, his smile faltered and he looked embarrassed. He said reluctantly, "In fact, offering a tip is almost an insult aboard this ship. We're not hired help. We're hosts. Our sole purpose here is to make sure that you're completely comfortable."

"Oh," I said, shoving the coin back into my pocket. "I didn't realize."

"Captain McCarthy, may I speak candidly?"

"Of course."

His professional demeanor disappeared instantly, and for just a moment he became only a sixteen-year-old boy again. "You-everybody on this ship-you're the war effort, all of you are. You don't know how much you're envied. You're doing something. This is as close as I'm probably ever going to get. I know my job doesn't seem very important to you. I mean, a lot of you guys just think we're servants and-well, you know. We don't mind. We feed you and change your bedding and give you massages and hugs if you want them, and once in a while one of you even lets down his or her guard long enough to let us care about you. I know that seems strange to hear, but we really do care about our guests here. We're trained to care. I started training for this duty when I was twelve."

Shaun looked like a small boy visiting a military base for the first time; his eyes were filled with awe and wonder. "You guys, all of you, you're our special guests. You're not just customers, you're the people who are going to win the war for us. So if there's anything we can do to put you at your best, then we're helping to win the war too. This is our part of the victory. Taking care of you. It's a privilege for us to do that."

Despite myself, I was touched. And despite myself, I was skeptical too.

Part of me was saying that Shaun's speech was a very clever act. I'd just seen one more part of the service provided by the company. Everything here was part of the fantasy that you are special. That's what the company was really selling. Not just long peaceful air cruises, but powerful emotional restoratives.

Even so… even knowing what I knew, I wanted to believe it anyway. I wanted to let go and swim in the soft sea of luxury. And, what the hell did it matter if I believed or not? Even if I knew it was fake, it was still true. Shaun's job was to take care of me so I could help win the war.

And then I had to laugh at myself. Even when it's true, I don't believe it. And then I stopped laughing-the assumption here was that I could help win the war. And that wasn't necessarily a valid assumption. Nobody even knew if the war was winnable anymore. But…

I looked across at Shaun. He was still waiting for my reply. I reached out to tousle his hair, then at the last moment realized that was something a man did to a boy. Instead, I put my hand on his shoulder and patted him gently. "Y'know something. I can't remember the last time somebody told me he just wanted to make me happy. At least, not without a hidden agenda. It's been a long time." I shrugged and accepted the circumstance. "Thanks. I promise I'll do my best to be as comfortable as I can. If you see me tensing up, hit me with a club and give me your ten best suggestions for getting happy again, okay?"

He grinned happily. "Yes, sir!" And threw me the sharpest salute I'd ever seen.

What the hell. I saluted back. I felt silly as hell doing it, but what the hell. At least his was the most honest salute I'd ever received.