106 Bacon and Eggs (1/2)

”I'll be damned,” said Ron Small.

”Yeah,” said Kirk. They had just entered the room that had been prepared for their working breakfast with Carlton Brock. Its center was occupied by a very long table covered with white table cloth and featuring very promising-looking settings, with multiple plates before each seat. Two rows of tuxedoed, bow-tied waiters were lined up along opposing walls. Most of them were attempting to smile at the incoming governors.

There was nothing halfhearted in Lea Panatella's smile, however. She was standing at the head of the long table, and she seemed to be as delighted as if she were hosting a birthday party for all her favorite people. She was wearing a cream skirt suit with a white silk shirt and, to Kirk's experienced eye, the clothes were fresh and clean. Maybe that was why Panatella was so happy: fresh, clean clothes were increasingly hard to come by.

”Good morning, good morning everyone,” she sang out. ”Please seat yourselves wherever you like. Your waiter will take your breakfast order from you.”

Kirk wanted a place near the top of the table, close to where Carlton Brock would be sitting; however, he was politely but firmly blocked by Panatella. She said:

”I'm so sorry, governor Lander. Sir, the first seat on each side is reserved for people coming with governor Brock.”

Kirk was about to ask who those people were, but he heard Small call his name. He looked: Small had secured a couple of seats, and was waving at Kirk to join him. Five places down from Brock: that wasn't too bad.

”Thanks, Ron,” Kirk said. They sat down and almost immediately a waiter appeared between their seats and said to Kirk:

”Sir? I'm ready to take your order, sir. Orange or grapefruit juice?”

”Orange,” said Kirk slightly stunned.

”Toast - white or wholewheat?”

”Wholewheat.”

”Scrambled eggs with sausages or sunnyside up with bacon?”

”Fried with bacon.” Kirk was having difficulty speaking: his mouth was flooded with saliva. This promised to be the best meal in ages! Well, at least a week. He had to swallow twice before he could inform the waiter that he also wanted coffee and strawberry jam. The waiter turned to take Small's order: Kirk overheard him go for the scrambled eggs with sausages.

He frowned. In Kirk's mind, people who liked scrambled eggs were messed up emotionally. He had valid reasons for this belief: his first two wives had both liked scrambled eggs. The first one had driven into a wall while drunk and stoned, an act that terminated her pleasant high instantly, and her life a day later.

Given this experience, he took a risk with his second wife - she was totally into scrambled eggs, sometimes ate them twice a day. But she had been so efficient, so calm and collected when she was still his secretary! And what happened? She ended up as a certified loony locked up in an institution.

Was Ron Small fucked up emotionally? Of course he was! He was very smart and very ambitious. He was also ugly and, well, small. A mind like that in a body like that had to find life very painful. In a way, it was natural that he would fight back by gathering dirt on people, and blackmailing them into submission.

Well, he'd given the little bastard a nice taste of his own medicine. It had been very effective. Small had abandoned any thoughts of cashing in on his knowledge of the Lander colony. He came around to Kirk's room that morning and practically stood at attention assuring Kirk that he never had any intention whatsoever of telling anyone anything. It had convinced Kirk that Small really had something going.

”Of course, of course,” Kirk had said. ”We governors must stick together. E pluribus unum.”

They ended up going to the breakfast together.

The waiter had just brought both of them their orange juice when Carlton Brock entered, and everyone rose from their seats.

Carlton Brock was accompanied by two people Kirk had never met or seen before: a bald, bespectacled man in a baggy grey suit, and a ugly old woman in a long-sleeved black dress who was also wearing much too much makeup: it made her look like a vampire. The ugly pair quickly moved to take the reserved seats next to Brock, and Kirk nearly burst a brain vessel trying to work out who they were, and what roles they'd come to play.

”Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and please be seated,” boomed Brock, putting his hand on the backrest of his seat. He stood like that for a moment, smiling and looking from left to right as everyone wished him a good morning, too. Everyone except the pair he'd brought with him: they had already sat down, and were ordering breakfast from their waiters.

”I have a proposition,” boomed Brock again. ”Let's eat first and talk second. What do you say?” He grinned, listening to enthusiastic endorsements. He raised a hand, cutting them off, and added: