Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2)

by John P. Logsdon

“Right,” Harr replied with a sense of relief. “Exactly.”

  She pushed the drink away. “We should just stick to business.”

  “Or we could talk about you,” Harr suggested.

  “Me?”

  “Sure. I’d love to hear more about you. Where you grew up, the schools you attended, how you got into science…everything.” She seemed perplexed. “It’ll help me put together a picture of you for testing. If I understand your perspective on things, I can make better judgment calls.”

  “That’s fascinating,” she replied, leaning in. “I hadn’t considered that before. Actually, let me write that down.” She pulled out an electronic pad and started to scribble something with her fingertip. “There, got it.”

  Just as she’d set down the pad, the waitress came up to the table. She held a sneer that marked her as someone who obviously wanted to just collect her pay and go home. Harr glanced around at the other wait staff and noted they all appeared that way.

  “Whaddya wanna drink?” she said.

  “Um,” Harr said, not knowing the options, “I guess I’ll just have what she’s having.”

  Both women gawked at him. “Really?” they said in unison.

  “I take it there’s something wrong with that?”

  The waitress scoffed and said, “Only that it’s from the female side of the menu.”

  “The female side?” said Harr with a grimace.

  “Where are you from, buddy, the moon?”

  She flipped open the menu and pointed at it. Sure enough there were two columns. Male and Female. Jezden would have approved. Interestingly, the items on the female side were far more expensive than those on the male side.

  “Sorry,” Harr said. “I’m not from your country. Just give me the male version of what she’s having.” The waitress rolled her eyes, grunted, and then walked away. “Well, that’ll be reflected in her tip.”

  “Tip?” said DeKella.

  “Yes,” Harr answered and then gazed up to see that she didn’t know what he was talking about. They’d probably just had another word for it on Kallian. “You know, extra money for doing a good job.”

  DeKella picked up her pad again. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Most of the time wait staff is abysmal.” She tapped a couple of times on the pad and then her eyes lit up. “So, what you’re saying is that if you gave them some incentive, maybe they wouldn’t be such jerks?”

  “Works where I’m from,” he said with a shrug. “Most of the time, anyway.”

  He studied the menu, noting items from the men’s side having names such as Steak Kablam and Dire Bird with Green Stalks. Following across to the women’s side, the same options were named Flowered Beef and Lavender Poultry with Emerald Veggies. He allowed himself to see the ingredients list on his HUD. They were identical. Very odd.

  “Interesting menu,” he said. “Any suggestions?”

  “My husband usually gets the Gurgling Shark, if that helps?”

  “Husband?” said Harr, feeling his heart sink.

  “We’re in the middle of a conscious uncoupling.”

  “What?”

  “Divorce.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” he said and then coughed. “Sorry! I mean, that’s awful. I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “No, it is good,” she said with a laugh. “It was bound to happen eventually. He’s a businessman and I’m a scientist. The only thing we had in common was the length of our tails.”

  “I see.”

  “Sex solves a lot of problems on Kallian,” she said while picking up her wine glass again, “but not everything.” She drank deeply this time, then she tilted her head and said, “Your tail is a fair bit longer than his.”

  Harr felt himself blush. He still had little idea what one’s tail signified. If she expected it meant that he had an equally sized other side, she would be sorely disappointed were the evening to turn out the way he’d hoped.

  “That was probably inappropriate for your area of the world,” DeKella said after a moment. She closed her eyes and dropped her head. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I’ve never been good at drinking. The stress of the day…”

  “No, it’s okay,” said Harr. “We say things like that where I come from, too. It just usually takes a little while of getting to know someone first.”

  “You mean like a courting period?”

  “That’s about right, yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Well,” Harr said, “we just don’t want to offend anyone.”

  “I guess because I grew up here, I can’t comprehend how someone could be offended by hearing that you find something attractive about their person.”

  Harr went to respond, but then realized she’d had a point. “Actually, I suppose they shouldn’t be, but that’s just the way of things in some cultures, I suppose.”

  “I can’t see how anyone would. Who doesn’t like to hear nice things about themselves?”

  “Masochists?”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Well, you’re in my land now, so tell me something that you find attractive about…me.”

  “Seriously?” he said with a nervous laugh.

  “Unless you find nothing attractive about me, of course.”

  “On the contrary,” Harr said, leaning back in this chair. “Okay, here goes…you’ve got great breasts.”

  “Breasts?” she said as if slapped. “Who cares about breasts?”

  Harr frowned. “I guess I do.”

  “Are you one of those kinky types, Zep?” she asked after a moment.

  “If liking breasts makes me kinky,” he replied, folding his arms, “then I suppose I am.”

  “Fair enough. Fair enough.” She laughed and shook her head. “I guess it could be worse. You could have said I had nice legs.”

  “Yes,” Harr said out of the corner of his mouth, “that would be…worse. So what kind of things do you find attractive, Rella?”

  “Besides tails, you mean?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Just the standard things,” she said while waving her hand. “Toenails, eyelids, ear hair, the little webbing of skin where the thumb meets the forefinger.” She must have noticed the look on Harr’s face because she added, “I assume that’s all pretty dull to a man who likes breasts.”

  “Not at all,” he said, even though it was weird in his estimation. “It’s just different than what I’m used to.”

  Thankfully, the waitress returned before the conversation could go much deeper. She set his drink down and then just stood there with her hands on her hips, looking expectantly at Harr and DeKella. She was even chewing gum, or some gum-like substance anyway, and she wasn’t exactly going out of her way to hide that fact.

  “Well,” she said to Harr, “whaddya want?”

  Harr motioned toward DeKella who replied with, “Gentlemen first.”

  “Uh, okay.” Kallian was completely backward from what he was used to. “I guess I’ll have the Gurgling Shark.”

  “How do you want it cooked?”

  “I’ll just take it however most people take it.”

  The waitress sighed. “Most people take it however they want it cooked.”

  “Excuse me,” DeKella said while leaning in to look at the waitress’s name tag, “Toobah, right?” The waitress sighed again but nodded. “How would you like to earn an additional ten percent on our check?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  DeKella winked at Harr. “If you treat us with respect, act helpfully, and bring our food promptly, yet properly prepared, I’ll give you ten percent, in credits, of whatever our final bill is tonight.”

  “So, wait,” Toobah said dubiously, “you’re telling me that if I pretend to give a crap about you and your weird pal here, and your bill turns out to be one hundred credits, you’ll give ten additional credits directly to me?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” agreed DeKella.

  The waitress said, “Huh,” in a thoughtful way.
Then, she took a moment to compose herself. She removed the wad of gum from her mouth and launched it expertly into the trash bin that sat near the far wall. She then smoothed out her pants and shirt, and ran her fingers through her hair.

  Finally, she turned back and began speaking in a professional turnaround from how she’d spoken just moments before. “Many people request the Gurgling Shark to be cooked medium-rare, sir. Honestly, though, I would recommend against that dish tonight as it is not exactly fresh.”

  “Oh?” said Harr, sitting up a little taller. “What would you suggest?”

  “The Fiery Wortbird is most excellent. It comes with a side of fried Bloodsnakes that have been known to win awards on occasion.”

  “Great. I’ll have that.”

  “Excellent,” she said with what Harr considered to be a genuine smile. “And you, ma’am?”

  “Flowering Sazobird with a side of fried Xeno.”

  “Brilliant selection, ma’am,” Toobah said with a bow, taking the menus from the table. “I’ll put in your order and will have your dinner out shortly.”

  DeKella’s mouth was hanging open in utter shock as Toobah walked away. Harr gave her a conspiratorial shrug as he sipped his wine. It was quite delicious. Full bodied with a hint of sweet, but it had a nice dry edge to it as well.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” she said. “That was simply amazing.”

  “It’s funny how quickly money can change a person’s perspective.”

  “I’ll have to tell all my friends about this.”

  “Or,” Harr suggested, setting his glass down and putting his elbows on the table, “you could keep it a secret. That way your friends will be shocked at how well you’re treated whenever you go out. Prestige, you know?”

  “Yet another fabulous idea,” DeKella said with a look of awe. “You’re just full of them.”

  “I’m definitely full of something,” Harr somewhat agreed.

  FURTHER INTEL

  General Struggins had just put the finishing touches on a perfect putt from the edge of the green. He was only able to get out to the course once a week ever since the warp technology had moved from theory to potentiality. If everything went to plan, though, he’d put the sticks up in trade for a seat on the command chair of the finest space-faring war vessel ever imagined. Distant worlds would fold under the fierceness of the Kallian military. Once he’d built it, of course.

  He was sliding the putter back into the bag when he saw Private Deddles approaching. Perfect timing.

  “Ah, Deddles,” he said as he motioned toward the bag, “carry that for me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They headed toward the main clubhouse. A nice cheese sandwich and a beer or two always hit the spot after 18 holes.

  “I’m assuming you’ve been out of my sight because you were doing something that needs to be done, yes?”

  “I was, sir.”

  “And what, pray tell, was it that you did?”

  “I got information on the inspectors, sir,” Deddles said proudly.

  “Did you now?” Struggins did his best to look and sound surprised. “Well, that’s mighty industrious of you, son. Although, I would be remiss if I didn’t chastise you for such an action. You are aware that it is clearly against regulations to have garnered intel on the inspectors, I hope?”

  “Yes, sir,” Deddles said with grin and a wink.

  Struggins decided to ignore that. “And yet you—and do note that I’m clearly stating that you did this, Deddles—decided to run on out and gather data on the inspection crew of your own volition?”

  “I did what needed to be done, sir.”

  Struggins actually stopped at this point and gave Deddles an appraising glance. The boy was about as sharp as a golf ball but it was marginally possible that he was more than just a gun jockey. Struggins harrumphed with surprise and resumed his walk.

  “Well, Deddles, I’ll have to reprimand you for this transgression, obviously, but since the deed has already been done I suppose it can’t hurt to know what you’ve learned.”

  “Reprimanded, sir?”

  “Has to be done, Deddles,” Struggins said seriously. “The military can’t allow regulations to be broken without some form of consequence. It just wouldn’t be militarily sound.”

  “Oh.”

  “Again, though, since there’s no way to un-flush a toilet, as it were, I’d like to understand what you gleaned in your research.”

  “Yes, sir,” Deddles said, placing the bag alongside of the other bags that sat in the rack by the clubhouse entrance. He pulled out a sheet of paper and slowly unfolded it. Then he spun it around. “The main inspector, sir, is a Dr. Zep Welder. His assistants are Drs. Fleeka Baloo, Grayle Piffer, and Dangly N. Impotent.”

  “Go on,” Struggins said.

  “They’re staying at the 3 Seasons Hotel across from Good Times Leeko’s.”

  “Right by the W.A.R.P.E.D. building. Yes, I know where those places are. What else?”

  “Uh…” Deddles flipped the paper over a couple of times, obviously searching for something else to add. “Ah, yes! Dr. Impotent has a short tail, sir.”

  Struggins lowered himself onto the bench and rubbed his chin firmly.

  “Deddles,” he said coolly, “are you telling me that you only got their names?”

  “No, sir,” Deddles answered. “I also know where they’re staying. Floor and everything.”

  “I see.” Struggins sighed and began to take in the view of the golf course. The sun was descending down toward the horizon. It still had a couple of hours to go being that it was summer, but he tried his best to return to the clubhouse at this time of the day because the view soothed him. “Deddles,” he said, “can you give me an idea of how I can use the information that you’ve just given me? I could have just as easily walked up to the guard at the front desk of the W.A.R.P.E.D. building and asked him for that intel.”

  “That’s what I did, sir,” Deddles said as if surprised.

  “You disappoint me, Private. Here I was thinking that you’d gone and found a way to make yourself useful to that uniform that you’re wearing. Instead, you mark yourself as a complete waste of carbon, yet again.” He shook his head, no longer finding himself interested in ordering a sandwich. “Now, unless you have something more to report, I’d suggest you go and start cleaning all of the latrines on barracks 119 as part of your punishment for attempting—albeit poorly—to spy in on the records of our esteemed inspection crew.”

  “Yes, sir,” Deddles said with a slouch. He turned and started to walk away but then stopped. “Oh, there is one more thing, sir.”

  “Shoe sizes?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Favorite brand of toothpaste, maybe?”

  “I didn’t think that would help, sir. Would it?”

  “Just tell me what it is, Deddles.”

  Deddles squared himself. “Right before I arrived at the golf course, sir, I heard a news report that the airplane carrying the inspectors never arrived at the airport.”

  “What?” Struggins said, bolting up from the bench.

  “Yes, sir. The plane left on Northsouth Airlines, flight number NS112, from Akember Bay. But that flight hasn’t landed yet.”

  “Is there some reason that you didn’t lead with that information, Private Deddles?”

  “I didn’t think it was important, sir. I mean, the inspectors are already here, right?”

  Struggins looked back across the golf course with a grin.

  “Maybe not.”

  PLACING BOMBS

  That’s one whacked-out broad,” said Geezer while watching the video feed that came in from Vool’s eyes.

  “She’s a soldier,” Sandoo replied, as if that made everything okay. “Any good soldier knows that following orders without question is what needs to be done.”

  “Are you nuts?” Geezer said. He put down the wrench he’d been holding and picked up his workman’s towel and began wiping his hands c
lean. He knew he didn’t need to wipe his hands, but it was in his makeup to do it. “Following orders without question is stupidity. I mean, sure, if they make sense that’s fine, but if they’re insane,” —he tilted his head toward the screen that Vool was on as a case-in-point— “then you kind of need to stand up and say something.”

  Sandoo shifted uneasily. “No offense, Geezer, but you’re not a soldier so you can’t possibly understand.”

  Well, that was a bit offensive, if not a little hurtful. Hadn’t Geezer just gone through the same boot camp that Sandoo had? No, he hadn’t done all the push-ups and such that they had done, but they didn’t have to drag their batteries around on a tray like he did, either.

  “I went through boot camp on Sadian just like everyone else.”

  “True,” Sandoo answered with a nod, “but that’s not really the same thing.”

  “Don’t belittle my service, pal.” Geezer tucked the towel back into the pocket on his hip. “Just because I haven’t seen any action since going through boot camp doesn’t mean that I should be treated like anything less than what I’ve trained for. Hell, boy, before you were even a mishmash of those initial zeroes and ones that your programmers rigged up, I was out in ships like the Reluctant, here, getting my feet wet in engineering. And I can tell you that I’ve been in far more encounters than you have.”

  The air grew silent as the two resumed their stares at the image of Vool walking around in the lab of the W.A.R.P.E.D. building. It was a creepy thing watching the world through someone else’s eyes. While they had no way of knowing what was going through her mind, the angle of her head and the squinting of her eyelids made Geezer feel like she saw the world in a very angry way.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Sandoo said after a time. “I didn’t meant to imply…”

  “I know what you meant, dude,” Geezer said icily, “and as your superior officer, I would have to say…”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “What what?”

  “Did you just claim to be my superior officer?”

  Geezer turned to face Sandoo. “Everyone knows that a ship’s engineer outranks every member of the ship except for the captain.”