#23 – Velocity
While the graveside ceremonies were solemn, a festival atmosphere developed afterwards. Tables and chairs were brought out of the auditorium. People visited, swapping items of food and discreet flasks of the locally brewed liquor. Captain Smith got into a shoving match with a man from Lake Fort who jovially suggested he have Wally brew up some rocket fuel. Engers intervened.
Later, Bejun Gupta who had farmed the land around Lake Fort asked if Ding had plans to close it. “No,” I replied. That was the fort with the fake cannons. Had I asked, he would have told me Kenji Nakajima had arrived early that morning with news that the war was over and new orders received from Earth for the Rangers. But I didn’t ask and was unprepared for the shock to come.
The following morning, five healthy-looking Space Rangers lounged on the benches outside the medical tent and I wondered if the attraction was the pretty woman doctor. A table, not one of ours, sat under the apple trees. Ambassador Cilron lounged there, his feet on a footstool. “Forgive me for treating you like an old friend,” he said “Have coffee and croissants. Or tea. Is General Ding up?”
I checked my watch. “He’s probably shaving. I could tell him you’re here.”
“No need to chivy him out of his usual routine. Coffee?” I chose coffee and accepted a croissant.
Engers rushed out. “Ding says he has matters to deal with before he can see you.”
“I have breakfast and morning coffee ready for him,” returned Cilron mildly. Engers stammered he would see. Ding did not appear by the time I finished my croissant. “I am reminded about a proverb,” said Cilron “about leading a horse to water, but being unable to make him drink.”
Sometimes I thought my boss was a horse’s ass but I could hardly say so. “I’ll go help Ding, so that he can meet with you as soon as possible.” I threw down my napkin.
As I rose, two men in uniform approached, but it was Sgt. Chavez and Lt. Nakajima. I was surprised to see Nakajima, but I supposed from the bag Chavez was carrying, that Nakajima had come to reclaim more clothing. “Go on,” said Nakajima to Chavez. Turning to me, Nakajima thanked me for my kindness in circulating the petition. I stammered, remembering my comment in the staff meeting had started the whole disastrous chain of events.
“I hope you’ll come to the concert.” Nakajima seemed to have more to say, but shook my hand instead, not typical for him. I went inside. Ding and Smith were discussing troop rotation.
I mentioned seeing Nakajima and Ding said to Smith, “That’s another reason to rotate the men. I don’t see him coming back to resume his duties.”
“I’ll take care of it,” said Smith.
“I want to break up the South Fort garrison. These reports of drunkenness are getting tiresome. I know you think highly of Borton, but he’s part of the problem.”
“I’ll speak to him, sir.”
“It’s beyond speaking. Here’s a list of the most persistent troublemakers. Take Sgt. Chavez and his squad and bring them in for questioning.”
Smith looked like a man who has eaten a lemon. “I haven’t heard of problems.”
“Some complaints are about you not taking action,” said Ding “I specifically refer to the allegations made by the Fenellis brought to my attention yesterday. As the father of a young daughter, I would expect you to be sympathetic and to investigate such crimes thoroughly.”
“Who’s to say it’s a crime when the young woman asked for it?”
“Have you talked to Geneva Fenelli?”
