Free The War With Earth by Dave Grossman, Leo Frankowski Page A

Would you mind if I swiped a few of them?"
    "Nothing I'm doing is patented, and I'd be honored to have my general following my lead."
    "Uh, yeah. Just between us, in private, let's not take that 'general' stuff too seriously. You've seen the movie they made about me?"
    "Twice. Let me tell you, it was a real shock to be sitting in a movie theater, and then to see ourselves, or rather our Dream World selves, up there on the big screen. Then we got a bigger shock when we saw ourselves both get killed, and you drive away alive, when the way we remembered it, well, it was you who were dead! It's amazing how they can splice Dream World into reality. And then that officers' school! Did you know that Zuzanna and I went through that same school? Taught by the very same Professor Cee? Our only problem was that a week before graduation, our general died of a heart attack, and the rest of us were busted back to Tanker Firsts!"
    "He just died?"
    "Hey, it happens all the time. Remember that most of the New Kashubians they drafted were pretty old, in their seventies and eighties, a lot of them, the theory being that living in the belly of a tank, you don't need healthy young bucks. You need seasoned brains, which us oldsters have plenty of."
    "Speaking of you youngsters," Zuzanna broke in, "Where's that young bride of yours? If she's half as smart as she was in the movie, I want to meet her."
    "Kasia's the brightest girl I've ever met, but right now she's up in our room, organizing the wedding."
    "All by herself? I've half a mind to go up there and lend her a hand!"
    "I think she might welcome the help. Agnieshka," I said into my new communicator after I switched it on. "Ask Kasia if she wants the cavalry to come to her rescue, with bugles blowing, banners flapping, and all the sabers flashing bare in the sunlight!"
    "I did and she does, boss." I guessed that she could hear what was going on even when the thing was off. It figured.
    "Zuzanna, I think that you may regard that as a formal invitation. Room 634," I said as she got up and left.
    "So, Quincy, where is this big pig and timber ranch of yours?"
    "About eight hundred kilometers northeast of here. They haven't given me a street address, yet."
    "Agnieshka?" I said again into my communicator.
    "It's about thirty kilometers east of your new place, boss. You two are almost next door neighbors."
    "Ah, so you moved up into the War Zone, too."
    "Hush your face, boy. That kind of talk in public can get you called up, stuffed back into a tank, and have all future leaves canceled. Too many important people have too much riding on the present status quo, including us. If this thing blows up wrong, we could lose our land, among other things."
    "I got you. Not that anybody would believe it, anyway," I said.
    "Probably not, but they're still not taking any chances."
    "Right. So you've got a big, box canyon like mine."
    "Smaller, if you've got the one I remember from the map. But twelve square kilometers is nothing to kick about, and the canyon walls will keep the pigs in, with only about a kilometer of fencing needed."
    "I'd been thinking of closing off my opening with a lake and a dam. I'll need a river for drainage, and I've been thinking, why not have a lake, too."
    "A fair idea. Of course, with the drip irrigation I'll be using, you use so little water that drainage won't start to be a problem for hundreds of years. Say, do you really like this place? The bar, I mean."
    "It's pleasant enough, and they gave me a free tab here."
    "I think that it's dull, stuffy, and overly civilized. I also think that we can afford to drink anywhere we want to. Since the girls are otherwise occupied, I know of a place nearby where the music is loud, the drinks are honest, and the women are naked. Are you game?"
    "Hey, I'm not married yet! Let's go!"
    "That's the attitude!"
    * * *
    The Gold Door Lounge was as advertised, and a roaring good time was had by us.
    It was about two in the morning, and we were stumbling