Chapter 10

The banging on the door wouldn't stop. Gavril was too groggy to figure out for a minute why someone wouldn't get the damn door until he realized that he was on a couch in a "lovely" suite and he was the low man on the totem pole. He struggled to the door and flung it open.

"What?" he bellowed.

The waiter cringed. "Ah, your breakfast, sir," the timid man said.

Gavril pointed to the middle of the room and stormed off to the other, unused bedroom, hoping there was a toilet somewhere in there. He was tempted to pee off of the balcony but he quickly dismissed that idea. Anyone he wanted to piss on was probably far, far away.

When he returned to the main room, the cart stood in the middle and the front door was shut. Now he had a dilemma: should he wake up the colonel or let her sleep? Fayta, he corrected himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the heel of his hand.

He explored the cart. Porridge of some sort, breads, jams and cheese were most of the contents. There wasn't a scrap of meat to be found among the dishes, which gave him a quiet chuckle. He made a decision.

This was the military, he reasoned and knocked on the door before entering. The bed was empty. He heard the faint sound of water running from the bathroom. "Breakfast is here," he shouted and closed the door.

The Awanili didn't have coffee but they had a caffeinated analog which had a spicy, fruity tang to it. They called it "frei'ah." Gavril poured himself a cup and retreated to the balcony to enjoy the last bit of coolness before the temperature rose. His stomach was still comfortable after last night and gruel wasn't one of his favorites.

The city was coming to life. Vehicles of all types were bustling through the streets and the sidewalks were filled with people in all sorts of attire, from businessmen to street cleaners. Even the trees were alive with small creatures leaping from branch to branch or stopping to eat a fruit or a leaf. From above, he could see them easily.

"Hi," a female voice said, startling him out of his reverie. She stood in the doorway of the sliding door in a loose silken robe and a cup of frei'ah in her hand.

Gavril shifted over to the far chair and patted the vacated seat. He let her sit before he asked if she was feeling better.

She nodded. "It was a hard night, a bad one for me."

"I didn't even know it until the ride home," he said, trying to reassure her. "No one knew."

"Good," Fayta said. "You took care of me last night. I assume you undressed me and got me tucked in bed. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Gavril said.

He had a million questions to ask but he decided the best course was to follow her lead. She had promised to answer all of his questions today.

"I'm used to being on a crowded spacecraft, surrounded by my family and friends," Fayta said as she took a sip. "This wide open horizon is alien to me. It makes me feel rather uneasy."

"Awanil has its good points and its bad points," Gavril said evenly. "Her natives love her."

"I think they love her bounty a little too freely," Fayta said. "I don't want to think about food." She drained her cup. "We need to get on with the business of the day."

"What is that," Gavril said, wondering if she had forgotten her promise.

"First, the knife fight," she said. "They embarrassed me in front of the Awanili government. Which is better: court martial or a court martial followed by an execution?"

"Why don't you bust them down one rank and send them to the meat grinder. Let the jungle decide their fate," Gavril said. "Solves the junior officer shortage, puts more men in the field, and places more squads on patrol."

"Efficient," Fayta said. "I like that. I'll have to make a call to our commanding general forthwith."

"Aren't you only a colonel?" Gavril said, curious to know just how royals and the military ranked against each other. Two days ago he wouldn't have given a shit, but now he felt like he was watching tabloid news exposing the secrets of celebrities.

"Among Volentin we don't have ranks. We know who ranks above and below among the family. These military ranks are for your convenience. By my family name alone, I outrank most officers and by my position near the empress, I can pull whatever rank I need. I don't usually because you normals have such fragile egos and you whine like spoilt children."

"Not all normals are that bad," Gavril said.

"Forgive me if I over-generalize," Fayta said. "However, my theory is that Awanil must be the dumping ground for the every human planet and habitat. The sheer number of pompous incompetents makes my body shudder with concern for our species."

Gavril laughed, enjoying her cynicism. "As long as they are grounded here and not allowed to wander the lanes of human space traffic, the rest of humanity is safe again. Awanil serves its greater purpose for the sake of humankind. All you have to do is throw these people to the native predators and the balance of the universe will be restored. Problem solving makes me hungry, let's eat."

Fayta looked at him. Gavril noticed a hint of wonder on her face, dismissing it without any further thought. She quickly hid her thoughts and stood up. "Make me a cup of hot cereal and bring it to me in the bedroom, please. Let me get these calls out of the way and the rest of the day's calendar will be clear

An hour and a little more passed, which Gavril used to catch up on the latest news, gossip, and broadcasts for "our brave soldiers in the vast fields of battle." At least the drivel smothered the sounds of yelling coming from beyond the closed door. Whatever her job really was, he was now certain he wanted nothing to do with it. When he yelled, people jumped into action. To whoever Fayta was talking didn't appear to be moved to action.

"What is war?" Gavril said aloud to the news anchor. "When old men talk and young men die — that's war."

His mood quickly plummeting, Gavril changed channels and lit upon a drama with beautiful people barely dressed running around a lush estate on a dreamy planet. The fantasy intrigued him as he settled down to figure out the plot.

A hand snaked down his chest from behind. "I like a man who watches 'Torrid Nights'", a voice whispered in his ear.

"One of your favorites?" Gavril asked, enjoying the fingers moving inside his shirt.