“Yes,” Trouble said.
“That’s just sick,” Crossie said.
“Sick, but something we’ve got to consider about our new best enemy,” the king said slowly. “Trouble, have I ever told you that I hate you?”
“Regularly, Ray. Kind of like old times, ain’t it?”
“Too much like old times,” the king growled. “Okay, okay. Back to Trouble’s board. Is there anything else we should put at the top of our Do or Die List?”
“Maybe move the outposting to a subcategory under defend human space,” Crossie said.
“Crossie, you’re quibbling and not adding anything,” the king said.
For a long minute, the four men eyed the board… and came up with nothing.
“Okay,” the king said. “Now, how do we defend human space? And I include in that getting the budget we need to build a battle fleet and the people to crew it. Several of them, as well as put a decent defense system up on every major planet.”
“Whether they want it or not?” Mac asked.
“Whether they want to pay for it or not,” the king shot back.
“I was hoping we could just talk about the military problems,” Trouble said.
“We can’t talk about the military without talking about the money,” the king pointed out. “And we can’t talk about the money without talking about taxes. Which also means we have to talk about getting the taxpayer on board with this whole project. Don’t you just love democracy?”
“Lousy form of government,” Trouble admitted, “but the best anyone’s come up with. Hey, am I quoting someone?”
“Very likely,” the king agreed. “You can look up the quote when you have spare time. Now, boys, let’s dig in. I want ideas and I want them now.”
Ruth picked Trouble up when he finally got free. It was late in the evening by then, and he was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
“You hungry, dear?”
“No. They’ve been pouring coffee down our gullets all day, along with sandwiches. I’m too exhausted to bite anything. Just take me home and pour me into bed.”
She took him home, but he found he wanted a shower before the bed. Still, Ruth was waiting as he stumbled from the bathroom.
He hit the pillow and didn’t even bounce.
“Rough day?” was all Ruth said as she began to massage the knots in his back.
Ruth had once taken a course on massage. Trouble wasn’t sure that what she did to him was by any of the books, but there was no question that his wife’s hands roving his body was a delight to endure.
“Yeah, rough day,” Trouble mumbled into the pillow.
“You want to talk about it?” was accompanied by hands working down toward the small of his back.
“Not much I can say,” he said. “Not much that would surprise you, anyway,” he managed to get out, between several moans of pleasure as his back relaxed under her wandering fingers.
“Try and surprise me,” she said.
“Ray’s an ass,” he told the pillow.
“Nope. No surprise there,” she said, and her fingers wandered below the small of his back.
“Please don’t go there. I really am tired, and I’m afraid if you start something, I’ll fall asleep right in the middle of it.”
She settled down beside him, but her hands still roved, soothing the taut muscles of his back. “You really are beat.”
“Honey, you don’t know how hard it is not to kill idiots when they so richly deserve being throttled.”
“You’re getting forgetful, aren’t you? We’ve been in meetings where I damn near did kill some of the idiots.”
“Yeah,” Trouble said. “I guess I am forgetting old times. Strange how we remember all the good times and manage to forget the rest.”
“Not strange, just very human, love. Now you go to sleep, and I’ll keep you safe.”
Trouble didn’t manage another word. Sometimes it’s just smart for a husband to let his wife get the final word. Oftentimes.
Especially when he’s really tired.
“General, you are wanted at the Royal Court,” woke Trouble. Considering how loud the voice was, it must have been the fifth or fifteenth time.
“Thank you, computer, I’m up,” he said, feeling not at all like getting up.
Somehow, Ruth was still sleeping beside him. He made his way to the bathroom and ran a hot shower. With time short, he shaved there.
No surprise, Ruth handed him a cup of coffee as he headed for the closet. Today, he’d wear his uniform with full ribbons. If he had to speak for the poor damned souls on the tip of the spear, he’d look like someone who’d been there.
“We’ve got trouble,” Ruth said as she turned away and clicked on the TV in the bedroom. It was an old set they hadn’t used much in the last fifteen years. Not since they had both officially and finally retired.
They weren’t about to let the news be all that important.
The TV came on to a news channel. There was Vicky Peterwald. All redheaded and voluptuous.
“Damn, what is she almost not wearing?” Trouble said, dressing.
“Don’t worry, she won’t be wearing it in a minute.”
“She’s talking about the Voyage of Discovery and the battle, isn’t she?”
“Definitely.”
“So why’s she dressed like a stripper?”
Ruth sighed. “So all the media outlets will carry this after she falls out of it not just once, but twice!”