The Lotus Eaters

Fort Cameron, Balboa, Terra Nova

Though Volga had plenty of doctors, product of the Red Tsar's emphasis on quantity, it was the considered opinion of the 22nd, which certainly had enough experience of Marxist medicine, that the Legion's medicos were both better trained and much better equipped. Thus, the wounded from the operation in Santander, generally speaking, preferred to do their convalescence in Balboa rather than home. There was, however, at least one exception.

* * *

The 22nd was not only a hard fighting regiment; it was a hard drinking one as well. All the regiments of the Legion drank, of course, even if not all of its members did. The combat rations came with a rum ration integral to them. Legionary rum, at 160 proof, was considered pretty vile unless highly diluted. It was especially vile to the Volgans who much preferred vodka.

A bottle of vodka, imported from home, sat between Samsonov, Pavlov, and Chapayev on a cloth-covered table in an alcove of the 22nd's Officers' Club. Chapayev drank with his left hand. His right shoulder was still immobilized with bandages and a cast.

"I've a list of things we need, Victor," said Samsonov, pushing a file folder over towards the tribune, "and a regimental credit card for you to purchase them and ship them here. Also a list of contacts in case you have any trouble finding what we need. Also, if you are amenable, there is a list of people I'd like you to interview for possible accession into the regiment. If you agree to the last, I can extend your convalescence by half a day per applicant you interview, plus travel time. We did have some losses we need to make good."

Chapayev replaced his glass on the table and answered, "No problem comrade col . . . err . . . comrade leg . . . err . . . sir. I've seven weeks to convalesce. Even with the time I intend to spend on . . . err . . . with my wife there should be some occasion for some shopping and even interviewing."

"What's it been now, Victor? Almost two years? That's too long."

"Yes, sir, I agree. I'm hoping she'll come back here with me when I return."

Samsonov nodded. "One hopes she will, Victor. Duque Carrera told me he is sending a crew especially to build you a house to raise a family in. 'We need that boy's children,' he said to me. You've made quite a friend there."

Chapayev said, "He's a good commander, isn't he? I owe him for my company, I think." The Volgan's face grew somber then. Slowly and carefully, he added, "I don't know if she is coming back for sure. The last time I got a message . . . you know how the mail is from home, even the electronic mail . . . was before we went to Santander. She didn't seem overly enthused about coming here. Maybe when I show her the drawings of the new house she will change her mind."

Chapayev pulled an architectural drawing from a satchel. It showed a medium size, single floor bungalow, built on stilts to form a carport under the main house, the house itself stuccoed and roofed with red tiles. Based on the size of the windows, the house looked to be about thirteen or fourteen meters on a side, perhaps one hundred and eighty or so, overall. By Volgan standards, it was palatial.

"No question but it's a better place than she's likely to find at home," Samsonov observed. "You might also mention to her that on your pay here she can afford a maid and cook, and a car if you wish."

"Yes, sir," Chapayev agreed. "That might help. Duque Carrera also offered to let me use one of the spare places on his land until my house was complete."

"He told me about how you fought in Santander," Samsonov said. "He thinks very highly of your abilities . . . and your courage under fire. I would cultivate him, were I you."

Chapayev smiled. "Yes, sir. But first, I have to think about how to cultivate my wife. And on that note, I have shopping to do in the city before I catch my plane. Menshikov is driving me to town and the airport."

Pavlov added, "There are a few things I'd like to add to your shopping list, Victor."

"Sure, sir."

"You are going by airship, Victor?" Samsonov asked.

"Yes, sir. The Legion paid for round trip fare for one, and one way for another, plus a generous allowance for shipping personal goods."

"Well," said Pavlov, "if the rumors of how much Carrera succeeded in squeezing from the Santanderns are even half correct, the Legion is pretty flush, right about now."

Chapayev smiled. "Certainly the combat bonus the duque paid the regiment hasn't hurt."