The Lotus Eaters

Executive Complex, Ciudad Balboa, Balboa, Terra Nova

Despite the high wall surrounded the complex, the sounds of traffic could be heard even within the President's office. Parilla was pretty much deaf to those; what attention he had to spare was focused on listening for the sound of a Cricket, bringing Carrera in for a meeting.

The subject of which is not going to please friend Patricio, Parilla thought. But when he gave up control of most of the money to the Senate he also assigned responsibility to the Senate. And they're taking their responsibilities seriously, seriously enough to say, "Halt, we're going broke!"

The rest of his attention span Parilla gave over to reading a book, his reading glasses perched between the bridge and the end of his nose, while he waited for Carrera to show at his office. The government comptroller, Señor Dorado, was already seated.

* * *

One side effect of the Federated States' mandated repartition of the country was that the old executive offices had fallen inside the border of the enclave granted to the old government. Thus, while Parilla's government had physical control of the Legislative Assembly complex, there had actually been no place for the president to sit.

For a short while, during the time Carrera had first convalesced on the Isla Real, Parilla had made do with the Casa Linda and its outbuildings. That was, however, pretty damned suboptimal what with most of the population of the country being on the other side of the Tauran Union-controlled Transitway.

For another half a year, near enough, the president, cabinet and executive department had sat in various rented office spaces. This, too, had been something less than ideal, as getting the cabinet together for face to face communication was, given Ciudad Balboa's appalling traffic, always a time consuming and problematic activity.

Thus, in the time since Parilla had taken office, much effort and no little amount of cash had gone into creating a new executive complex, containing mansions for Parilla and his two vice presidents, plus the cabinet officials, along with executive office buildings for all the major agencies, and barracks space for a cohort of guards. There was even a set of quarters for Carrera, as de facto chief of defense, though he and Lourdes had never moved in and had no intention of ever moving in.

* * *

When Carrera arrived at the receptionist area fronting Parilla's office he was greeted by a statuesque, slightly olive skinned, and intensely attractive brunette in her late-twenties—Parilla's secretary and, so it was rumored, one of the old dictator, Piña's, many former mistresses. That the woman would have been a mere girl in her early teens at that time only made the rumor the more credible. The receptionist, Lucilla, stood and announced Carrera's arrival into an intercom, then walked—or, rather, swayed while moving forward—to open the door to Parilla's office. Turning the knob, she bent down just enough for Carrera to get an eyeful of most enchanting cleavage. She smiled at him as she straightened back up. It was a smile of interest and a statement of availability.

"I'm starting to get on in years, Luci," Carrera said. "Someday you are going to give me a heart attack doing that."

The woman answered, one eyebrow lifting for emphasis "From that or from something else, Duque." Her smile grew into an invitation.

Carrera just shook his head, a regretful grin on his face. Thinking of Lourdes, now seven Old Earth months pregnant, he said "I don't mind dying, dear, but I do have my preferences as to how. A knife in the back while I sleep is very low on that list."

Inclining her head and shrugging her shoulders, and incidentally jiggling her breasts, the woman just gave Carrera a look of something very like sympathy. You don't know what you're missing.

Power corrupts. Luci had been around power since her mid teens, about the time her breasts reached their full development. She was, in many ways, as corrupt as a human being could possibly be . . . and she liked corruption, too. Unnoticed by Carrera, Luci returned to her desk, picked up a phone and began to dial a number.

Parilla was already walking from his desk to the door to greet Carrera. He, too, took in a good eyeful of some of Balboa's loveliest scenery before closing the door behind Carrera and leading him to the small conference table that graced the office. The comptroller was already seated. He stood for the President and Carrera.

After a very brief period of small talk the accountant opened his briefcase and extracted a series of thick folders.

With a dramatic, even melodramatic, air, Dorado, "Without either a substantial drop in expenditures—or some large increase in revenues—the government will be bankrupt within five years."

Carrera stared at the accountant as if he were quite mad. Unfazed, he continued.

"Numbers do not lie. With current defense expenditures hovering above two and a half billion per year, and expenditures growing as they are, we simply cannot meet the defense plan past that time. We will actually begin to feel shortages well before that. And if there is an economic downturn, globally, even the admittedly huge sum you've turned over to senatorial control will drain away like dirty dishwater."

Parilla raised an eyebrow in Carrera's general direction.

Carrera shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We'll be at war with the Tauran Union within five years. After that, a little thing like bankruptcy hardly matters."

"Sure," Parilla agreed. "But what if we're not at war with the Taurans within that time? What if they can delay things for ten years?"

"Then we have a problem," Carrera admitted. "But, Raul, now is the time to be buying equipment. Now is the time to be buying shipping, or getting it under long term lease, anyway. Now is the time to be bringing young boys and even girls into the legions, before the population bubble disappears. Our women used to be the most fertile on the planet. That's changed and I don't know if it's ever going back to the way it was."

Staring Carrera directly in the face, Dorado said, "Of all your programs only those run by Professor Ruiz are not ruinously expensive. Even then, his radio, television, films, music, and translations of military works don't quite break even, even with foreign sales. Of course, since you directed that the Military Museum, which falls under Ruiz's department, not charge more than a quarter drachma for entrance, that's a loser. I have given the money from the anti-crime campaign over to the Professor to keep his department running."

Carrera perked with interest. "Money from the anti-crime campaign?"

"Yes, Duque," Dorado said. "We've had to sell seized property at distress sale prices, but still there was cash, some gold, seized bank accounts, a couple of yachts, one small merchant vessel, some residential property. It made us about two million last month. Of course, if the campaign is ultimately successful, you can expect that source of funds to dry up too."

Carrera leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes and rubbing his eyebrows with his fingertips. Victims of our own success. I suppose I am pushing expansion faster than I should. But I've only so much time. Where do I get more money? A lot more.

To Parilla he said, "I'll look into finding some other sources of funds. Or maybe let Esterhazy"—the Legion's comptroller and investment officer—"run a little wild."