“Yes, Sergeant,” said the chef. “This will be a very…ah, interesting…experience, I think.”
“You’re telling me?” said Escrima. “I got an appetite just walking into this kitchen. If the Legion won’t eat this stuff, they ought to be checked for signs of life. I can see there’s a whole new cuisine for me to learn. What do you call this dish?”
“Nutria jambalaya,” said the cook. “One of our Creole-style dishes. We also have sweet and sour nutria with bingo beans, and nutria parmigiana on the menu tonight.”
“Nutria?” Escrima was puzzled. “That must be the meat, but I don’t recognize the name. Is it vat-grown?”
“No, no, you have missed it completely,” said the cook, smiling. “Nutria is our most famous animal, imported from Earth by the Moguls. In their day, it was rare, and as expensive as horse or pompano. But the nutria thrived in the lowland swamps, and now the animal is so common that it has become our major indigenous source of protein.”
“An Earth animal,” said Escrima. “That should be good, then-when there’s real meat locally, I’ll almost never use vat protein. What kind of animal is it?”
“Game, sergeant,” said the sergeant. “Has a very robust flavor, goes nicely roasted or in a spicy sauce. Very versatile, like chicken or cow, but much cheaper. The jambalaya won’t really be ready until I add the rice to the meat and vegetables. But this will give you an idea of how it will taste.”
Escrima filled a spoon and tasted. “Excellent,” he said. “You’re right, that meat will fit a lot of places-this dish will have ’em lining up for seconds. If it really is cheaper than chicken, the troops are going to eat a lot of this nutria.
The cook smiled. “Trust me, Sergeant, once you’ve gotten used to nutria, you’ll be using it in all your recipes.”
“Well, no time like the present,” said Escrima. “Why don’t you show me what else you’re cooking tonight?”
Within minutes, the two chefs were comparing notes on spices and discussing the best local sources for fresh produce. The undercooks listened in growing awe to a pair of culinary artists picking each other’s brains. The food was going to be even better than usual that evening…
Journal #381
Directly across the street from the Landoor Plaza Hotel was a large vacant area, fenced off and posted. When he inquired about it, my employer was informed that it was destined to be part of Landoor Park, a large project funded by the government as part of its economic revival plan. However, as to the exact nature of Landoor Park, the locals had nothing to say…
“Captain, I must inform you that stock in our projects is not being offered to off-world investors.” Boris Eastman’s tone and expression made it clear that he considered the question an impertinence. And both the size and decor of his office made it clear that he had no authority to change policy even if he were so inclined. But he was the only official willing to meet with the captain of the peacekeeping team, and Phule was determined to get what he could out of the interview.
“Mr. Eastman, I am not about to lecture you on economics,” said Phule, with more than a trace of annoyance in his voice. He had gone into town to the Ministry of Development, a large building in the neo-Bauhaus style, and despite having made a firm appointment, had been kept waiting in an outer office while several locals were ushered in and out. The receptionist behind the desk had treated his inquiries with ill-disguised disinterest. But he had persevered, and finally was ushered into the deputy’s office.
“That is good,” said Eastman, “because I would not expect a foreigner to understand our local situation. We have a long history, and we have arrived at policies based on our unique experience.”
“I am aware that your grasp of local conditions may exceed my own,” said Phule, with more tact than customary. Given his extensive research into the economy of Landoor, he probably knew more about local conditions than the deputy. “But perhaps you will do me the favor of explaining your rejection of foreign capital. I would think that bringing resources in from off-planet would be the quickest way to give your economy the boost it needs.”
“That is a superficial assessment,” said Eastman, sniffing. “As you would know if you were a native, our world was originally a mining colony…”
“Yes, I have read your history,” said Phule, losing his patience. “This world was discovered in 2521 CE by an expedition from New Baltimore. A geologist on the expedition, Alberto Belperio, found igneous formations on the northern continental mass-now named for him-bearing an unusually high concentration of several rare minerals. He and the ship’s captain, Martin Landoor, returned to New Baltimore and raised four hundred seventeen million credits to exploit the deposits. Mining began in 2526…” He continued from memory for several minutes, piling detail upon detail.
“Enough, Captain!” Eastman, whose face had turned bright red, finally interrupted him. “You have convinced me that you know our history.” He wiped his forehead with a large handkerchief and continued, “Perhaps you also know about the collapse of the economy a generation ago.”
“Yes. A series of improvements in mining technique made it feasible to extract the minerals from the poorer ore on several other planets. All of a sudden, the Moguls lost their monopoly.”
“And the foreign scum, having sucked us dry, took their profits and left us to wither away,” said Eastman, pounding his fist on the desktop. “We have learned one key lesson from that, Captain. Never again will Landoor be held hostage by foreign money. Landoor Park will be financed by money we raise from our own people, not from the likes of you.”
Somehow, Phule kept his temper. “Mr. Eastman, you are making a mistake. If you will notice, my legionnaires and I are already pumping a fair amount of money into this economy. If your plans to attract foreign tourism succeed, you will be even more heavily dependent on off-planet money. If a little foreign seed money helps you get on your feet, why not take it? This isn’t a zero-sum game we’re playing.”
Eastman shook his head. “Captain, we appreciate the fact that your troops are spending their money in our local businesses. You realize, of course, that this is a pittance. Your troops would be of far greater benefit to us if you sent them to the mainland to end the rebellion once and for all.”
“Really?” Phule’s eyebrows rose a notch. “I was under the impression that the rebels were a joke-from what the previous peacekeeping troops reported, the only thing they’ve done in years is take a potshot at me, back when we landed.”
“They are a symptom of all that was wrong with the old government,” fumed Eastman. “Far from working to liberate the people, they are behind most of the crime here in the capital. They are constantly sabotaging our efforts to rebuild the economy-why, nearly one in three of our signs for Landoor Park has been defaced by them.”
“I saw that, but it seemed like petty vandalism to me,” said Phule. “I’ll look into it, of course.”
Eastman was livid. “Look into it? Better you should suppress the rebels once and for all.”
“Mr. Eastman, that is not my mission,” said Phule. “My orders strictly forbid offensive operations on this planet. If the rebels attack the city, or take other military action, we will stop them. By the same token, if your government takes any direct action against the rebels, we will stop you. Frankly, I don’t want to take action against either side. I would be much happier investing my money to help rebuild this planet. That’s what I came here to talk about.”
“And, as I told you, we do not want your money,” said Eastman. “I believe this interview is at an end, Captain.”
“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” said Phule, rising to his feet. “It may be the only thing you’ve been right about all day.” And he stalked out of the deputy’s office, slamming the door behind him.
The eastern beaches of Atlantis were widely considered the choicest on Landoor. They offered broad expanses of amber sand, warm water, a gentle slope from wading to swimming depth, serious surf beyond the outer bar, as well as what most locals considered the right balance of natural beauty and such amenities as cabanas, boardwalks, and food vendors. So as soon as the new Legion base was sufficiently set up to give a few personnel a day’s leave, a rented hoverbus arrived at Sunrise State Beach and unloaded a large pack of legionnaires in swimsuits, carrying blankets, picnic coolers, and an assortment of beach toys.
It was early enough in the morning that only a few blankets and umbrellas were in place on the sand, so the Legion contingent had its pick of spots to set up. Brandy chose a large dune well above the surf line, where they dropped off their baggage. Then, she made a beeline for the surf, with two dozen legionnaires whooping and hollering behind her. A riot of ducking, splashing, and other horseplay broke out at the water’s edge. The few non-Legion bathers quickly withdrew to a safe distance, casting wary looks toward the frolicking newcomers.