John Ringo - Cally's War

She got a drink from the cooler, listening for another moment before stepping out and gingerly opening Agent Carlucci’s office door. The agents’ doors were locked, of course, but since the general could ask for a file at any time, she was on the list of people with override access.

Carlucci’s office had a desk of heavy plastic. Most nonstructural things were, since the raw materials for organics were abundant locally and didn’t have to be shipped up from Earth or other Sol system real estate. His I-love-me wall was refreshingly sparse, with his certificate of graduation from the investigators course, and a plaque commemorating ten years of service in CID. His desk had an old-fashioned photo of his wife and not much else. There was a braided ficus tree on the floor, and a Boston fern in a pot on a stand of heavy plastic painted to look like wrought iron. Other than a pair of hand grippers, three packaged protein bars, and a couple of five-pound dumbbells, his desk contained nothing but dust, which she was careful not to disturb.

On to Baker’s office. Baker’s office was much like Carlucci’s, different plants, no photo. He had a framed print of a Monet on his wall. He also had an unlabeled cube in his desk. She read it into active memory. It looked like music files, but she’d have to go over them with a fine toothed comb this evening, anyway, to check for hidden data. It wouldn’t be the first time important data had been stored beneath or within something innocuous for extra security.

Li was fairly new and hadn’t put anything in his office except some tropical-looking tree with big shiny leaves. It wasn’t even dusty. Someone had probably cleaned it out before he arrived and he just hadn’t been there long enough for a new layer to form. She was bent over the bottom drawer and was just closing it back when she heard a sound in the hall. It gave her enough warning that she didn’t jump when the door slid open, just looked up and calmly closed the empty drawer. It was Pryce, and despite the second or so advance warning she felt her breathing quicken and her palms start to sweat.

“C — can I help you with anything, ma’am?” he asked.

“Maybe. Have you seen the Leave File?” She wiped her hands on the side of her silks as she stood back up. “It has the markup draft of the revision to the brigade leave and sick call policies and procedures.”

“Oh, that.” He frowned for a minute. “Sanchez had it this afternoon, ma’am.”

“He brought it back, I remember that, and I thought I filed it. And now I can’t find it and I just know I would be so embarrassed if the general, bless his heart, asked for it in the morning and I had to go look for it then.” She frowned thoughtfully.

“Could Sanchez have thought of a comment he forgot and borrowed it again, maybe, ma’am?”

“Maybe. We can take a quick look.” So Pryce was with her as she searched Sanchez office, and she didn’t dare copy the three cubes he had in his top desk drawer.

“No luck, huh?” he asked

“I’m afraid not.” She straightened and walked past him out the door. He must have lost his balance as he turned behind her, because he stumbled up against her again, steadying himself with one hand on one side of the small of her back and the other on her arm, just below the shoulder. She knew right where his hands had been, because the skin there tingled even after he caught his balance and removed them.

“M — ma’am I am so sorry.” His eyes were downcast. He was obviously embarrassed as hell. “I guess I’m not the most coordinated person in the world.”

“Bless your heart, Pryce, nobody’s perfect.” She smiled sympathetically. “You’ve been to Titan before. You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a decent place to get a pizza somewhere on this giant snowball, would you?” Did I just ask him out? Yep. Why the hell am I attracted to this consummate klutz? I probably ought to speed things up with the general before I totally lose it. You have a job to do, Cally. Wake the hell up and do it, instead of fucking around with cute lieutenants.

“I know just the place, ma’am. I could give you directions, but it doesn’t have a big sign. You have to pay extra for that, and I guess Lin feels he doesn’t need it. Most of his business is delivery, anyway. If you don’t mind company, I haven’t eaten either…”

“Uh, that would be just fine, Pryce.” After all, I have to eat, anyway. It has nothing to do with those deep, dark eyes of his. Nothing at all.

The Little Venice Pizzeria was a small place located in the lower level. Stewart estimated that perhaps half the square footage was devoted to kitchen space. The small dining room was a bit busier than usual, but they didn’t have to wait long for a table. While the busboy was cleaning their table, he used the mix of prints and reinterpreted holos of old Venice as inspiration for small talk. Flower boxes of lush vines, hung on the walls all the way around the dining room, gave the place a more dirtside feel than anywhere else she could’ve been on Titan. Tony Bennett was playing in the background. Stewart saw her notice the plastic roses on the tables and smiled slightly.

“Not exactly the place for a business dinner, Lieutenant.”

“Were we going to discuss work, ma’am? They do a damn fine pizza here. I don’t know if you’re hungry or not, but I’m starved. Split a large?”

“That sounds good. Is it just me, or does it not smell as… smoggy… in here as it does out there?” she asked.

“It’s not just you. Lin installed extra filters, and the extra plants help a lot. He said the pollution was inhibiting his yeast, whatever that means. So, ma’am, what do you like on your pizzas?”

“Everything, with extra cheese.” Makepeace grinned like a little kid.

“Um… ma’am, how about everything except for anchovies?” He walked up to the counter and looked back at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Deal.”

“One large garbage pizza, extra cheese, hold the cat food.” He looked at the petite brunette behind the counter curiously. “Hi, Suzannu, good to see you again. Where’s Lin?”

“His wife is sick, so I take over for a few days until she gets better. Gotcha, one catless garbage, extra cheese. It will be up in about fifteen minutes. You want drinks with that?” She set two empty cups on the counter. “Sorry I don’t have time to talk. I am run off my feet trying to handle all this by myself, just myself and Jon, and we are so busy .”

As he half expected, when he got out his ID and swiped it through the machine, Makepeace tried to pay, but he didn’t let her, and she didn’t go to the point of actually making it an order. He’d probably have to let her buy next time. What? Waitaminute — next time? She is a third of your age, you idiot, and a ditz to boot. She is a complication you do not need on this job. Now after the job — she’ll still be a third your age and a ditz, but… she’s over the age of consent and, hey, brains aren’t everything. Damn she’s got big tits.

They got their drinks and sat, after a moment of confusion as each went for the seat facing towards the door. He let her have it. She was a captain, his cover was a lieutenant. Having his back to the door bugged the crap out of him, but it couldn’t be helped.

“So, why did you join Fleet Strike, Pryce?”

“Get out of the Sub-Urbs, get rejuv, get off-planet, see the universe, kill Posties. What’s not to like, ma’am?”

“Bless your heart, Pryce, we’re going to have a long evening if you spend the whole time ma’am-ing me. In private you can drop the ma’am’s and just call me Makepeace, all right?”

“Okay. So why did you join?” He inhaled about the top third of his drink.