Princess Rescue Inc (29 page)

She
looked at him confused and then shrugged it off when another patron called for
her. She smiled and walked off with a hip waggle.

Max
grunted. “What you talkin' about?” He mumbled with his mouth full. His
shoulders were hunched. He rolled them then sat back and pushed the bread bowl
aside to take a sip of grog. Sometimes Max's speech dropped into a southern
pidgin when he was in a hurry.

“I
was wondering how it went with the artisans?”

“You
mean the union? So, so. They were impressed with the demo that I'll say.”

“Union?”
Ryans asked, puzzling that out. He'd finally gotten the chance to catch up with
Max. It was surprising that it was during dinner. At least it wasn't on the
crapper he thought, imagining himself talking to the big guy while he took a
shit somewhere.

“Yeah.
Seems the longer you've put in the higher ranked you are. Some even get invited
to parties like that one last night here,” Max said waving. Ryans nodded.

“And?”

“And
some of the younger generation are showing just how fast they can get stuff
done. Showin' their betters’ up, which is pissin' some of dem off.”

Ryans
nodded in understanding. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“So
of course they aren't happy and made their displeasure known?” Ryans asked. He
was curious as to how they would do that, hopefully a bit of grumbling and then
some healthy competition.

“Tried
to. But I pointed out that we need shit fast, but also accurate. Dey ain't
happy, but dey get the job done. Eventually,” Max grimaced in annoyance. “For a
ridiculous price.”

“Sellers
market. We need their skill.”

“Yes
and no. I pointed out that we can make molds and make crap a hell of a lot
faster than some of them can if they can't come down on the price. Highway
robbery, dats what it is. Highway robbery,” Max said shaking his head
mournfully. “Steal the fillings right outta ya teeth while complainin' the
entire time.”

“Peachy,”
Ryans sighed sitting back.

“Like
I said, da youngins ain't so bad. Young skuts who want to please and get the
job done. Day wanna make a name for demselves. Some of the dem dear older ones
just too set in dere ways.”

“Great,”
Ryans shook his head. “I'm not too keen on cottage industry anyway. The
industrial and economic model... sucks.”

“And
is labor intensive,” Max said, using a roll to wipe up the gravy drippings.

“That
too. So we've got our work cut out there. How'd the install go? I noticed the
network's up.”

“Yeah.
You'd better get a tech to do a better check for dead zones though. We've only
got so many repeaters.”

“Yeah.
Nice job though,” Ryans nodded getting up. “Seen Sydney? That'd be a good job
for him.”

Max
nodded. “He helped me set up the repeaters. He's working on dat dar dohicky
thing now. The language thing since he was useless up on the towers.” He held
up his bluetooth and then clipped it to his ear.

“Ah.”

“Said
somet'in' or other about sleep teachin' the language now that we'ze got a
handle on it.”

“Right.
I need my beauty rest though,” Ryans said, smiling.

“Well,
some of us are as beautiful as we gonna get,” Max said with a snort as he got
up. He tapped his chest and then burped a long particularly loud burp. When the
servant girl looked over to him he grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

“Funny.
Real funny.”

<==={}------------>

Sydney
figured out how to access the linguist’s language system and the sleep teaching
system. He snagged a couple of the others who were multilingual to play guinea
pig. Some of the military people were using the language as an exercise. They
went back and forth with basic phrase drills to become acquainted with the new
language. The sleep teaching program was more for the people who were not
polylingual. It would help them to be able to at least understand what the
natives were saying, or at least the gist of what they were trying to get
across.

<==={}------------>

Doc
snarled as she saw the marine pissing in the corner. She walked up behind him
and slapped him upside the head, hard.

“What
the hell? What the hell was that for?” he snarled turning. He rubbed at the
back of his head as he fumbled with his zipper. Damn that had hurt. He regretted
not wearing his helmet now.

“What
the hell do you think you’re doing?” Doc snarled.

Edsfield
shrugged. “When in Rome Doc. Hell, they think the whole world is a freakin'
outhouse,” Edsfield said shaking his head. He touched the back of his head.
“Damn that hurt.”

“Good.
And don't come looking for an aspirin. If everyone jumped off a cliff would you
do it?” Sue demanded, one finger pointed into his chest. Edsfield opened his
mouth and Doc snarled again, eyes flashing dangerously. She raised a finger.
“Don't. Don't you dare.”

She
turned and stalked off and then turned back. “We're trying to set an example
here. NOT pick up bad habits. That crap is full of ammonia and bacteria. Didn't
they teach you anything about hygiene?”

Edsfield
rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. “Ah.”

“Get
a mop and clean it up. Tell the others. I catch them using anything but a damn
toilet and I'll castrate them,” Sue snarled. Edsfield gulped. From the way she
said that he was not ready to test her. The Doc's eyes gleamed. “And no, I
won’t use anesthetic.” She turned and stalked off.

<==={}------------>

“This
fruit cobbler tastes great. My compliments to the chef,” Perry said smiling.
They were eating desert in the hall. The Queen had insisted that the gaijin
mingle with the lords to make their changes easier to implement. She and the
Dukes were seated on an elevated platform near the fire. The other tables were
arranged close to the walls. A great expanse was left in the center of the
room. Servants went about bringing trays of food and drink. A minstrel strolled
about, playing a guitar.

As
guests of honor Perry, Sue, and Ryans were seated with the royal family. Deidra
didn't look at all happy about that.

“It's
a little tart,” a lady down the table sniffed. Crystal goblets tinkled as
people scooped up the treat. Ryans wondered why the salt was close to the Dukes
and not strategically placed for everyone to have access to. It must be a
political thing, something subtle he was missing. Either that or someone wanted
them to die of heart disease.

“I
like tart. Reminds me of granny smith apple pies my great grandmother made,”
Perry said getting another fork full.

“The
Kedara fruit is small and tart when harvested in the spring. It grows sweeter
and much larger if left to ripen until fall,” Zara explained.

“Ah,”
Perry nodded. “So why pick it now? Other than for the tart taste,” he smiled
politely as he dabbed at his mouth with a linen napkin. He removed the cover
from his drink to take a sip.

The
princess smiled back a little. “The war I believe. The orchards these came from
are near the Duluth army. The grower picked what he could before he fled here.”
She made a moue. “His loss, our gain.”

“Ah.”
Perry looked up to see a nervous looking guy coming over wiping his hands on an
apron.

“You
called for me my Dominus?” the man asked.

“Ah,
not that I know of. Wait you’re the chef?” Perry asked. The man bobbed a
nervous nod.

“Good
food. You are quite the cook. What's your name?”

“Cassius
my Dominus, if it pleases you,” the chef said glowing a little. Perry smiled.

“It
pleases me greatly to meet you Cassius, you’re a good chef. I bet you'd give
any restaurant chef back home a run for their money.” He hefted the platter.

The
chef smiled a little. “What is this term chef?” he asked.

“Ah...”
Perry looked over to Ryans.

“It's
a formal title for a professional cook. A culinary artist,” Ryans explained. He
frowned as the bluetooth bounced that last bit back. “It is a title of respect
for those who cook good food,” he repeated, dumbing it down further.

“Ah,”
Cassius nodded.

“Food
is the building block of life Cassius; remind me to get you some of our recipes
from the files. I bet you'd have a ball,” Ryans said.

The
chef looked a little confused and then bobbed a nod. That seemed safe to him.

“Cassius,
food, cooked food that is, is what made us smart. Well, that and walking
upright and these.” He held up his thumbs and wiggled them.

“Science
channel Ryans? Really?” Perry replied snorting.

“No,
it's true when you look at it. At least it's an interesting perspective,” Ryans
said and turned back to his audience. “You see raw food takes a lot of time,
space, and energy to digest. That is why cows have multiple stomachs and chew
their cud.” He saw a few of the ladies sniff and looked disdainfully at him.

“What
I mean is, we can't get the same energy out of raw food as we can from cooked.
The cooking breaks down the materials and makes it much easier for our bodies
to digest. We get less than ten percent of the nutrition of one of these fruits
if it was eaten raw.”

The
chef looked alarmed. “You cannot eat this raw my Dominus. The fruit is
poisonous.”

“Oh.
Like a potato. Okay. Got it.” Ryans shrugged. The chef nodded.

“Anyway,
when it's cooked; food is easier to digest and less is needed to fuel your
body. With a need for less food we can do more and eat less. At least some of
us.” He turned a mock glower on Perry who was scraping his plate clean.

Perry
looked up, fork raised, chin dribbling with purple juice. “What?” he garbled
out of a full mouth. Ryans chuckled.

“Thank
you my good man,” Deidra said nodding to the chef. He bowed deeply then
withdrew quickly.

“You
are going to be as big around as earl Pettigrew over there if you’re not
careful,” Zara stage whispered to Perry.

“Not
likely. Besides I'm a growing boy,” Perry said smiling to her.

“You
said you can heal many things. Can you prevent death?” a voice asked. Sue
frowned.

“No
one can cheat death. We will all die eventually, it is a part of the cycle of
life,” she replied and then grimaced as the voices murmured. “But that doesn't
mean we can give in to it gracefully in all instances.”

“How
old can you live on patria?” Earl Pettigrew asked.

“Well,
the oldest recorded is one hundred and thirty years,” Ryans replied casually.
“The average is about eighty for men, and ninety for women in most modern
cultures,” he replied. People began to chatter as he finished that statement.

“And
they... can still get about?” A surprised voice asked, cutting through the
hubbub. The voices quieted to hear his answer.

He
nodded. “Oh yes, many do not retire from doing work until they are seventy or
older. Some do productive work into their ninth decade. They learn their limits
though. A few, a small few who can continue on can get about on their own even
when they are over one hundred.”

“It's
called geriatrics,” Perry said looking up. “Sue here knows about it. As your
bodies age they go through different stages. Certain medicines, diet, and
exercise and changing your lifestyle can do wonders for how long you can live.”
He turned as Sergeant Waters came in. “Take the Master Sergeant here for an
example.”

The
Master Sergeant frowned as he came to attention. “Sir we have another intel
dump...” The Lieutenant got up.

“Okay,
just a sec.” He turned to the group. “Sergeant how old are you?”

The
Sergeant stiffened further then gave a minuscule shrug. “Sixty sir.” It seemed
he wasn't at all happy about admitting that fact. There was a slight murmur as
the court digested that news.

“You've
been a marine for forty years?” Ryans asked.

Waters
nodded. “Yes sir. Forty two. I will be retiring when this tour is over. In fact
I was offered early retirement for doing this mission.”

“Ah,”
Ryans nodded.

“You've
been a soldier for over forty years?” a lady asked surprised. The master
Sergeant nodded.

“Yes
ma'am. Forty two years. I signed up when I was a shave tail eighteen year old.
I've been through four wars and nine campaigns,” he said. That elicited a
murmur from the court once more. The Queen glanced at Deidra. Deidra nodded.

“A
worthy soldier indeed,” she murmured.

“Impressive,”
another courtier observed.

“Yes,
it is.” Ryans replied nodding.

“What
do you plan to do when you retire?” the lady asked.

“I'd
like to see my mother in Florida ma'am. She's in a retirement home there. She's
eighty-five,” she blinked at him. He shrugged. “I haven't had much thought
beyond that ma’am; the corps has been my life.”