The Lotus Eaters

Cruz Residence, Ciudad Balboa, Balboa, Terra Nova

Though he wasn't precisely sleepy, having slept on the helicopter that had brought him back from Jaquelina de Coco, Cruz had an inner fatigue no ordinary rest could touch. Wearily he trudged up the concrete path to the door of his house. Wearily he turned the knob and opened the screen door. Wearily he dragged himself, his rifle, and his pack inside. Wearily he set them down, and, with exhaustion in his voice, he called out, "Cara?"

He heard footsteps and then saw her, momentarily frozen in the rectangular corridor that led to the bedrooms. He saw his wife's swollen belly initially with mixed feelings. Let's see . . . last time was . . . ummm . . . match that to girth . . . yeah, it's mine. Well . . . assuming.

For her part, she took one long look at her husband, framed by light streaming in through the front door, and launched into a very rapid waddle to throw herself into Ricardo's arms. She stood that way, wrapped up, for several minutes before she could manage to get out, "You didn't tell me you were coming home, you bastard."

"Secret," Cruz explained, while running his hands gently over her back. " 'Pain of death' secret. They just got another tercio sufficiently trained to take over from the Second. We couldn't say a thing until they had taken over by more than fifty percent. And I couldn't send you our code phrase because there were no computers out in the jungla and my last scrap of writing paper had gone to a 'We deeply regret' letter for one of my privates."

His hand wandered from her back to her belly. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I wasn't sure until just after you left for La Palma, and I didn't want you to worry about me when you had more immediate things to worry about."

He nodded. The explanation made sense. For Cara, anyway.

"Did we win?" she asked.

"What's a win?" he half answered. "We drove the guerillas and druggies out of La Palma. But they'll be back if we let down our guard."

He grasped her shoulders in his hands and pushed her back far enough to look down into her face. "Hey, I've got some good news. At least I think it's good news."

"And that would be?"

"New assignment for us. We're going back to the island so I can be First Centurion of the tercio training maniple. Promotion, more money, and—since most of the troops have moved back to the mainland—the standard house out there for a senior centurion is what they used to put senior tribunes and junior legates in. Also"—he glanced down at her stomach—"the Legion still has most of its medical capability there."

Cara's eyes lit up at that. "Oooo . . . shiny." And I won't have to worry about you being killed all the time, either. A nice safe training billet would be just the thing.

She immediately got suspicious. She'd learned long since that nothing too very good and nothing too very bad lasted for too very long.

"How long?"

He shrugged, shaking his head. "Til we go to the island? A few weeks. How long will we be there? Sorry, don't know, love. Everything's in flux. But a year, at least, I think I can guarantee. Maybe two or three years."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," she whispered, laying her head against her man's chest.