Chapter 4: Frenemies

The interactive walls of our pod made an excellent big screen video monitor. All women and children were absent. It was just myself and Achmed and Osama—and Mister Cat. We were watching that old classic, The Magnificent Seven. As the credits rolled, Mister Cat bolted from my lap and ran off someplace. Want to remain sane? Don't try explaining cats—or women. Just observe.

"I am impressed with that Chris fellow telling Vin that contracts have to be kept," Osama commented, "even when they cannot be enforced by a court."

"It was more than that, my brother," Achmed explained that Vin was the mercenary caring only about money and Chris was the pure paladin—as proven by Chris during the funeral. "My son-in-law has proven that he is a man of honor, just like these movie heroes. Did you know that he saved Colonel Mubarak's life three times?"

"I wasn't aware of that myself," I interrupted.

"It's true," Achmed recounted three incidents.

Then Mister Cat stormed in, his tail bristling, meowing and turning in place.

"Family emergency, friends," I said as I rose to follow the cat.

"The cat talks to you?" Osama was astonished.

"Yes, but I lack the wisdom to understand what he's telling me," the cat led me out of the big room and up the ramp to the family school room.

I didn't rely solely upon sleep learning. Some skills had to be practiced. The children were in a simulated starship bridge—and arguing. Okay, they were fighting—Fatima and Jasmine were rolling on the floor trying to pull each others' hair.

"What's all this about?"

"She made me lose!" Jasmine growled.

"Did not!"

"Did, too!"

"Let's see the battle all over again," I said. I sped up the battle simulation and immediately spotted the problem. "How about it wasn't either of your faults? The real battle resulted in total loss. Only a message torpedo returned. You managed to escape to hyperspace, thanks to Tracy there. But let me think about a better way of resolving disputes. Fighting is okay—if we set up the fights to be fair."

"What are you talking about?" Georgia asked.

"CAP testing includes controlled aggression and sex drive," I answered. "Uncontrolled aggression lowers CAP scores. Same with sex drive—there is a thresh hold of too little and too much. Have to be Baby Bear."

"Just right!" Zara piped up.

"Correct," I said. "Papa Bear was too much. Mama Bear was too little. Baby Bear was just right. Zara doesn't have much time, only about 30 months—I am going to educate you so that you test out at sponsor level. That way you can choose your own fate—merge your house with mine, or be independent."

By this time the room had filled up. All the females and the two boys were naked—the uniform of my household. Only Signifier Tess was missing—she was with the Confederacy Marines assigned to Project Arab Dagger, watching over me via the artificial intelligence. If I got into trouble, the assigned marine squad would be here in minutes. For three weeks, no problems. Achmed and Osama and their six assigned houris, women selected, modified and trained to keep the Arab trainees contented and sexually sated while assisting them in their learning process had appeared in the home learning center. The houris had adopted the household practice of female nudity—I didn't ask why.

"Son-in-law," Achmed said, "the Magnificent Seven would be an excellent training movie. Why not show it to the trainees?"

"Licensing issue," I said. "My purchase of video disks included a limited performance license—private home only. The Confederacy is run by artificial intelligences, by computer programs that serve as Confed lawyers. I'm oversimplifying. Anyway, I cannot show the videos because of my license agreement. You had an old VHS copy in all that stuff I gave you ten years ago when I left Kuwait."

"Yes," Achmed turned to Osama. "When Thomas left he gave me his video machine—and American machine—and his entire collection of videos. He said it was a win-win for him. Tom, if you will explain."

"It would have cost me more to ship all those videos than simply give them away," I said, "and I wasn't able to donate them to the Army library, unfortunately. Achmed and his family enjoyed them so much I felt that giving them to Achmed would bring more joy. The other alternative was to destroy them. I did warn Achmed that these videos might be subversive."

"You did warn me, son-in-law," Achmed admitted. "The heroes in those videos—you lived up to them. Sometimes you were Sheriff Kane in High Noon. That's why you had to leave the Middle East and why you were retired from the American Army."