In Every Clime and Place by Patrick LeClerc Page A

present.
    “Commander?”
    “Come in.”
    “Shuttle approaching. Mr O’Hooley is paying a visit.”
    Radicz swore silently. “Very good, Slawco. I shall meet him in the conference room.”
    In the conference room, the Serb sat down at the large table and began sipping at his thick, black coffee. He did not rise as the CIA man entered, but waved the steward towards his visitor.
    “Thanks, Colonel,” O’Hooley said, accepting a mug. Special Agent David O’Hooley meant the title as an honor to his host, but Radicz winced. The early Americans had named a native chieftain King Phillip, but used him badly, stole his land and killed him just the same. He felt that the agent was merely humoring the savage.
    “The base is shaping up,” the CIA man continued.
    “It’s a shambles,” grumbled the Serb. “My people live like dogs. Dogs I have to separate to prevent religious warfare.”
    “Takes all kinds, Colonel.”
    “It doesn’t take all kinds, Mr O’Hooley. I just have all kinds.” The more he dealt with his contact at the agency, the more he despised the man. The American was tall, athletic and handsome. He was also a cheap whore for power who knew no loyalty except to himself. Radicz had studied the man. He had allegedly been denied service with the military because of color blindness, and so joined the agency to serve his country another way. The Serb was convinced the only color blindness in O’Hooley was his inability to tell red, white and blue from green. Every move he had made seemed calculated to boost his own wealth and prestige. Kissing the ass above while kicking the head below. It hurt to work for such a man.
    “Well, I got some good news for you.” The agent grinned, revealing a set of perfect teeth. “First, I brought along some booze and hookers to brighten your boys’ outlooks.”
    Radicz groaned inwardly. The man was throwing a bone to his loyal dogs.
    “And, I got us a plan to move this whole operation to some improved digs.”
    This sparked Radicz’s interest. Despite himself, he leaned forward. “Go on, my friend.”
    “Alls we gotta do is convince some people that space is no place for decent people. How’s a little piracy grab you?”

Chapter 12
16 NOV 2075
    USS TRIPOLI
    I made my way back to sickbay before turning in. O’Rourke was awake and aware, if a little groggy from the medication.
    “Hi buddy. How ya feeling?”
    “Fine and fuckin’ dandy,” he muttered with a sleepy grin. “Everybody else get out OK?”
    I nodded. “Thanks for pushing me out of the way, brother.”
    “That what you thought? I was trying to use you as a shield.”
    “I should have known. Sabatini said you just wanted a Purple Heart to go where everybody else’s Good Conduct Medal goes.”
    “Her Highness doesn’t think I could win a Good Conduct Medal?”
    “Terry, your mom doesn’t believe you could win a Good Conduct Medal.”
    He shrugged. “Point taken.”
    “What the hell is your problem with Sabatini?” I asked. “You still pissed that we all stopped looking at your ass when she joined the platoon?”
    “Rodriguez still looks at my ass.”
    “Yeah, and he knows all the words to West Side Story . Do the math.”
    “OK, second point taken. It’s just not the same with a woman in the squad, Mick.”
    “How you figure? She doesn’t get all bitchy when we use foul language or talk about sex, she drinks almost as well as we do, swears like a Teamsters’ Union shop steward and is almost as much a guy as the rest of us. She could probably enter a pissing-for-distance competition.”
    He looked unconvinced. “It don’t matter how she acts. Everybody knows she’s a woman. You guys act different around her whether she demands it or not. Nobody can forget she’s not a guy.”
    “What the hell do you want? Shit, look at her. If you haven’t noticed she’s a woman, maybe you should start hanging with Rodriguez.”
    “Fuck you, Mick,” he replied casually. “Let’s drop it.