Page 41 of The Satyr's Guilt
“Don’t make this crass. Don’t be thatman.”
“I’m not a man. Satyr here with a megaboner. Thanks to you and your hormones jacking me up. To saynothing of your pussy and tits. Let’s face it, we need tofuck.”
“We do not.”
“I think your body disagrees, doll.” Heleaned toward her, sniffing. “Yep. It wants to argue the matter. Ismell lust. All the wet stuff in your panties is for me.”
“Screw you.”
She opened a door, stomping out. Ram grabbedher elbow as he muttered something like, “Trying to.” Then heguided her the other direction. “Wrong way.”
When she glared at him, he chuckled. “Kindaruins the exit, doesn’t it?”
“Damn you.”
“I was damned a while ago.You’re too late.”
****
Mars sat at a retro chrome kitchen table. Hetapped two fingers on the marred white top. When his phone rang,the ex-military man extracted it from his pocket
“You’re meeting with the squad leaders thisafternoon, General?” Dante started without a greeting.
Not the Englishman’s real moniker anyway,but, then again, Mars was a code name, too. “I expect them withinthe half-hour.”
“Your men have captured nobody yet. My plansare balls up unless you show progress.”
Unaccustomed to explaining himself, Marstook a deep breath before he said something stupid. “They arelearning, sir. They have been at this only three weeks. I admit,they’re off to a rocky start.”
“Rocky?”
Mars tapped harder on the table. “The doctoryou hired got the dosages wrong. He said those monsters couldhandle several shots. Not true. My men plugged the alien with fourbullets. He was hard to knock down. Turns out, it was too muchtranq. He died. The doc now assures us their bodies will handle twoshots of the new dose. Any more is iffy.”
“If your task is too challenging, I can getanother general.”
Mars hesitated, choosing his words. “No,sir. I’m the right man for the job.”
“Marvelous. What about the injections forour soldiers? Have you taken yours?”
“Yes, sir. Earlier today. I wanted to testit before my men.”
“And? Do not make me ask.”
Arrogant Brit.
“Hooah. Very effective. Though I am a bitjumpy. As if I want to pound on someone.”
“Just make certain the someone is anotherworlder. How long did the technician say it will last?”
“I am told to expect a week. We’ll reportregularly to the lab for additional shots.”
“Good. I want the team on the drug. I wantmy money’s worth. Remember, I do not suffer failure. Get me a liveotherworlder by high tea tomorrow.”
Mars wasn’t a stupid man. Disconnecting fromthe call, he caught the Englishman’s implication. He needed to showa victory. As a retired military officer and later a mercenary inAfrica, he liked wins. He also believed as Dante did. They werewaging a battle for humankind.
Originally meeting with the Brit in hisLondon home, Mars listened to his story. Fascinating butunbelievable. Crazy old coot with a snobbish cut-glass accent.Slowly, the military man began to think the story might be true.Now, he was sure.
The screen door swung open. The New Orleansnative, an ex-Alliance agent with a grudge, stomped through. Theguy proved helpful already. One of his old contacts turned out tobe a tech at the organization with access to portal locations.Lucky thing the computer geek suffered from a severe gamblingproblem along with debts up the wazoo.
