Mike Shepherd - Welcome Home / Go Away

“You didn’t have to,” Ray said. “Trouble, would you take a kid off the street and send him up Black Mountain?”

“Of course not. He’d be dead before he took his second step,” Trouble spat.

“So what makes you think you can charge off into these folks’ damn battlefield, the place they live and make their living, without so much as a briefing?”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Trouble said, and let his words trail off.

“You may not think much of that bird colonel you almost tore a new one for, but he knows this kind of battle. I trust him to fight this kind of a battle. Now calm down and go polish your cannons for a few hours. As soon as we get anything about Kris from Chance, I’ll have you in here to help us figure out what to do with it.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t you go ‘Your Majesty’ing me, you old warhorse.”

“Sound the bugle, and I’ll be whinnying, sir.”

“Better. Now get out of my face. This may be hard for you to believe, but I got a half dozen other big-toothed monsters chewing on my leg besides our grand-girl.”

Trouble threw Ray a casual salute and headed for the door, with the field marshal right behind him. As the door closed, Mac whispered.

“Anytime I can escape from in there without needing an immediate blood transfusion is a good one.”

“Speak for yourself,” Trouble growled. “I’m headed for the nearest bar to get myself a nice infusion.”

Trouble didn’t head for a bar. Instead, he called Ruth and asked what she was doing for supper. She must have known he’d had a bad one because she met him outside the Smuggler’s Roost.

“Just like old times, before we got respectable,” she said with a winsome smile at the memories.

“Sometimes I wish we never had,” Trouble growled.

“That bad?”

“Ray’s got his head up his political ass.”

“Are you sure it’s him and not you?” Ruth asked, as he held the door open for her.

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that it’s easy when you’ve got a mission order. Everyone reads it, salutes, and does their level best to execute it to the best of their ability.”

“You’ve obviously forgotten how it really goes. Oh, and then there’s the other poor SOB doing everything he can to kill you. Don’t forget them.”

“Do you think I ever can?” Ruth said, rubbing her shoulder. Even after all these years, it still hurt when the weather changed.

“Sorry. It’s been a lousy day, and tomorrow will likely be worse.”

They settled in the back. A new waiter took their order for two beers and two cheeseburgers with all the trimmings and hurried away.

Ruth’s eyes got distant and took on a glaze. “Next quarter on New Eden, I’m teaching a course on “The Post-Unity War Period and Its Impact on the Initial Phase of the Iteeche War.”

Trouble smiled. She was actually speaking in caps where the course was concerned.

“It has me thinking back to what a mess it was in those days and how it’s not all that different from what we’ve got now.”

“What I remember about then is nothing like what I’m seeing here,” Trouble said to his beer as it arrived.

“That’s because you got your lovely ass out on the line just as fast as you could make it happen. Remember, I got left behind at Savannah, what with our first on her way. The war I saw was a tad different from yours.”

“And now I’m stuck in the cheap seats this time, and I’m seeing what I didn’t see last time,” Trouble said, softening his words with a smile. He hoped.

He must have succeeded, because Ruth took a long pull on her beer and nodded.

“Folks that are not out on the tip of the spear have these other considerations that don’t involve avoiding getting suddenly dead. They’ve got bills to pay and kids to raise. They worry about whether their kids will get drafted into some war they don’t really understand and so totally don’t want to get involved in.”

“This war could end up not two hundred klicks over their heads,” Trouble said, making a thumbs-up sign.

“You know that. You think about that. But not everyone does. I was talking to a friend of mine at lunch. In a public restaurant. The guy in the next booth leaned over and asked us to change the topic. He had his ten-year-old daughter with him and he didn’t want her to have to listen to all our talk of war.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him that it was a free country, and by the time my daughter was ten years old, she’d waved good-bye to her dad three times as he deployed to fight the Iteeche.”

“How’d he take to that?”

“He gave me a look like I was talking about sexually molesting his daughter. Then he and his daughter moved to the other side of the place.”

“So you’re telling me that Ray has a real problem on his hands, and it’s not all in his head.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Any suggestion how he handles it?”

Their burgers arrived as Ruth laughed. It was a beautiful thing that had silver bells tinkling in it.

They paid proper honors to their burgers. The cook had gotten the onions and lettuce just right. Trouble got Ruth’s tomatoes which, as usual, made his burger almost too sloppy to eat. They had both finished their first bite when Ruth went on.

“I doubt there is anything I can say that will change Ray’s mind about anything he intends to do. That man is more pigheaded than all the pigs on a dozen pig farms, combined. No, I’ll do what I can. No doubt, I and my class will be drawing similarities between then and now. Oh, and the education channel on Eden has asked me to let them tape much of the class for net availability.”

“And you jumped to approve the request.”

Ruth got very ladylike. “Well, I did agree, after some careful negotiations. I get to approve what classes they film. And I approve the final edits.”

“Something I forgot to negotiate before my interview,” Trouble said, with a growl.

“Winston did not edit your interview. It’s the other guys. So long as they don’t quote too much of you, they can call it ‘fair use,’ and use it.”

“There ought to be a law against unfair use, slicing and dicing me up so that I don’t say what I said.”

“Yes, I agree, General. And what would you propose as language for that wonderful new law?” Ruth said, eyes shining.

“How should I know? I’m just an old mud soldier.”

Ruth took another bite of her burger, then put it down as she chewed slowly. Swallowing, she put a hand on Trouble’s elbow. “Enough of this for tonight, soldier. Tomorrow will come, and we’ll muddle through it somehow. Now, hard as it is for you to believe, Kris is not our only great-granddaughter. We’ve got a passel of others, and I think it’s time we talked about someone else.”

“And you have one in mind, no doubt,” Trouble said.

“Yep. Monica’s youngest girl. She’s got a bit of a wild streak, and there’s this girl.”

“Isn’t there always?” Trouble said with a sigh.

“Who plays in a band.”

“A musician, huh?”

“Yep. Drummer, no less.”

“Oh, this just gets better and better. Gee, wife, it’s almost like I’ve heard this one a couple of thousand times before.”

“Isn’t it wonderful? One of our problems is straight out of the cliche locker.”

“I didn’t think any of our seed would be so trite,” Trouble said, and laughed.

They spent the rest of the evening comparing problems that might be common to any other set of parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents.

And enjoyed it.

Trouble’s computer woke him at 0542 the next morning. “The king requests your presence,” it whispered.