"Well... yeah. I appreciate all that you did, really I do, but there are some complications."
"You mean that stupid-ass vow you made not to fuck her until she says she loves you?"
"Belinda told you about that?" he asked with a sigh, embarrassed.
"Yeah, she told me," Drogan said. "She told me she vowed the same thing." She shook her head in wonder. "I think both of you are out of your damn minds. Not fucking someone that you want to fuck and that wants to fuck you is a very un-Martian way to behave. I mean, for the love of Christ, what do you think we're out here fighting for if not our way of life, man?"
Jeff wasn't sure if she was joking or not but he got her point. She, however, wasn't getting his. "I'm not doing it just to be mean or to try and blackmail her and shit," he said. "I'm doing it because..." a sigh "... because I really love her. I've never felt anything like this for someone before. I didn't think I could feel something like this. I mean, look at me. I was a gang member in the worst neighborhood on the fuckin' planet. I used to sell dust and I've killed other gang members — just shot them right the fuck down in cold blood. I used to think I was the toughest motherfucker there was, someone my dad would be real proud of, and here I am now falling in love like some motherfucker in one of them stupid-ass daytime shows on the MarsGroup. Do you see what I'm getting at here, Drogan?"
"Not really," she admitted.
"I love her," he said. "I have a hard time thinking about anything but her. When those fuckin' marines were lobbing tank shells at us and hitting us with mortars, even when they were climbing those fuckin' hills to take us out, I was still thinking about her, worrying about her. That's what love is, man. You understand?"
"I think so," she said, smiling, pondering what he was saying.
"I just think that fucking her like she was just another bitch I made a connection with... well... I think that wouldn't be all that fun, that it would take away from what sex with Xenia is supposed to be like for me. I think maybe that sex between people in love is better than just the normal sex we all have and I don't want to fuck that up by doing it too soon."
"Wow," Drogan said, beaming now. "That's some romantic-ass shit you're spouting there."
"So you see where I'm coming from now?"
She nodded. "I do. And you know what?"
"What?"
"I think I kind of like the idea."
Mars Capitol Building, New Pittsburgh
As soon as Laura Whiting entered her outer office Cyndee — her secretary — glared at her in a most unfriendly way. It was understandable. She had been worried about her, just like always.
"Where have you been, Governor?" Cyndee demanded. "You were gone for three hours!"
"Sorry, Cyndee," she said, actually feeling bad. "I had some business to take care of. Everything is under control."
"You left your security detail behind!" Cyndee said. "Governor, this is the fourth time in the past week you've done this. We were all frantic!"
"I apologize for disconcerting everyone but I'm back now. No harm no foul. How's the planet been holding up while I was gone?"
"General Jackson is requesting to talk to you immediately," she said. "He's called six times."
"Oh really?" she said. "Did my so-called secret service rat me out to him again?"
"Well... you ran off without telling anyone where you were going, Governor. What did you expect them to do? It's their job!"
She nodded amicably. "Yes, it is, and I'll never come down on anyone for doing his or her job. Anything else I need to know about?"
"Jack Strough called twice just after you left," she told her. "He said something about you needn't bother trying to interfere this time. His people are committed."
"Uh huh," she said, smiling in amusement. Jack Strough was the head of the cargo handlers union — a virulent, anti-revolutionary, self-interested asshole who had been a thorn in her side ever since her inauguration day speech. "I've already taken care of that particular problem. That is, in fact, where I was all morning. Anything else?"
"Nothing terribly pressing," she said. "You're getting the usual emails from the citizenry who are concerned about the upcoming bombing raids and why General Jackson is not moving reinforcements towards Eden yet. There are also several com requests from the various plant managers who are concerned about the same thing. David Reed over at the Alexander Industries plant is the most prominent of them."
"Ah yes, Mr. Reed," she said. "He and I had a most interesting conversation once. I can certainly see the source of his concern since the WestHems are intending to wipe his plant off the map. Did he leave a detailed message?"
"He did," she said. "He wants to evacuate his plant immediately. He says he's sorry about the loss of production this would entail but that he refuses to risk his employees' lives in the event of a WestHem bomber strike. He has given you five hours to reply with a coherent plan for strike forewarning or he will shut the plant down and move all of his workers to safety. And that was two hours ago, Governor."
"That's about what I would expect from him," Laura said. "He's proving to be much more of a Martian than his background would dictate."
"His background?" Cyndee asked.
"Never mind," Laura said. "I'll talk with General Jackson and then have a little chat with Mr. Reed when I'm done. Hopefully I'll be able to ease his mind and keep that plant in operation as long as possible."
"Very good, Governor," she said. Her face softened. "And, Governor?"
"Yes, Cyndee?"
"I'm glad you're safe. I was worried sick about you being out there all by yourself. Anything could happen to you out there. You've made a lot of enemies."
"I know," she said. "I appreciate your concern, Cyndee but I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing."
"Yes, Governor."
Laura turned and entered her office, letting the door slide shut behind her. She sat down at her desk and leaned back for a minute, looking at the ceiling. Finally she pulled out a pack of Earth cigarettes — one of the workers at the train yards had laid them on her after the speech she'd given them today — and pulled one out. She sparked up, taking a deep drag and slowly exhaling the smoke into the room.
"Heaven," she said as she savored the rush of nicotine to her head. This was the first smoke she'd had in days.
She turned and looked at her computer screen, which was showing a screen savor that consisted of various views of Mars, Phobos, Demos, and the skylines of each Martian city. "Computer," she said. "Com General Jackson."
"Comming General Jackson," it dutifully replied.
He answered less than five seconds later. "Where in the name of ass-fucking and clit licking have you been?" he demanded.
"That would be ass-fucking and muff-munching," she replied dryly. "Let's not start using offensive terms in our communications now. Remember, all of this is being recorded for posterity."
He was not amused. "Laura, haven't I asked you, begged you not to sneak out without your security detail? This is the fourth time you've done this! It's an ass-tapping miracle that some disgruntled Earthling or Martian hasn't shot you on the MarsTrans just to say they did it!"
"I can take care of myself," she said, giving her standard answer to such ass-chewings.
"Why are you doing this to me, Laura?" he asked. "You used to take the entire security detail with you wherever you went. You used to realize how vulnerable you were and how much we need you. What the hell happened?"