A man

[Pepe]

Crete, El Dorado Oasis, late hours

If there is a nice place for a living at southern Omicrons, El Dorado would surely be the one. Small but deadly Gamma sun showed some mercy here and all the place was less barren. It could sustain a small river going around a hill, ending with a lake. First Corsairs were amazed by finding one and only natural spring on Crete, so... the precious river they named El Dorado. Time was passing by, struggle for food became struggle for money and later struggle for power. Land values in El Dorado raised dramatically. Only Corsairs that actually don't have to pay for things could afford to live there. Further digging into the hill showed that spring wasn't that natural as believed. There was a facility of alien origin deep under the hill, pumping fresh water up from who knows where. Being afraid of prices dropping, land owners immediately cut further drillings and all research data about the facility and water origins - was lost in an accident.

Haciendas at river banks were finest residential buildings on Crete, made of stone, with modern house installations salvaged from finest premium scrap. Seeing words like Kaltwassereinlass was common in haciendas of El Dorado. Gardens were messy like it was mandatory. Everyone wanted his expensive tree to be greener and taller than neighbor's one, so they were planted all around like there's no tomorrow. Stone griffins were guarding all entrances, like there was some competition how big and ugly can they be. And pools. Everyone had one and some were obviously upgraded several times. Some trees had to be chopped and new ones planted... somewhere.

One of pools silently moved aside carried by antigrav system, revealing a small hangar beneath. A Gladiator (with lights off) slipped down from the sky. Fighter was accommodated to carry a pretty heavy pilot (pretty heavy, not pretty) that was flying it, so it was just slightly smaller than standard hangar entrance. Putting it to hangar went with few hull scratches and lot of swearing from inside. Pool moved back when it was all over. Nighthawks continued their songs happily pooping to all the pools.

Nights were quiet here, as tavernas were on the other side of the hill. You could hear humming of plasma fence, down in the distance, keeping fire lizards and Greenpeace activists away. Temperature was dropping down rapidly at nights, as there were no clouds over Crete that would let the surface keep some heat. Even poor Corsair could afford good house heating system, but they rather trusted in heating powers of tequila. Their homes were cold when no sun even in El Dorado. Pepe Ladron turned his engines off and managed to leave the cockpit with some more swearing. He took a nice long sip from his hangar booze bottle before taking his space suit off. He was flying naked sometimes, but these days he was less cocky than usual. Something was pressing his mind. He took his casual Latino shirt on, realised he did it wrong and took it off and on again. "Sigh", he said. "Stupido shirtos".

He entered into the main room and immediately realised two things. First, his wife wasn't at home. "Esposa espinosa not home", he mumbled. Secondly, he noticed fresh blaster shots holes in the kitchen walls. "Looks like niñas (kids) were bad", more mumbling. He grabbed a piece of cold taco left on a dining table and went to check kids rooms. They were sleeping like angels. Angels that were bad all day, as it's the best way known to men to make kids sleep at night. Ladron took a look at the notebook left on the working table. Half of the homework was done. "Better than nothing", he said proudly. His hand was greasy now from that taco, so he wiped it with no thinking, using the closest curtain. "Caramba, bad, bad thing", he said with fear and jumped into a kitchen to find a cloth to clean the curtain. He struggled against the curtain stain for few minutes, but it only got worse. He moved cold fusion floor lamp to hide it. Then he moved it again. And again. Obviously, stain was larger than the lamp now and moving it around didn't solve a thing. More shaking of cold fusion lamp would make all the stains in the neighborhood gone, as lamps made on Crete were not very stable and nuclear explosions were common. Luckily, that lamp was a gift (better say a bribe) from some Kusarian ambasador. Ladron knew when to give up fighting, so he moved to plan B: he left the room.

Every Cretan official had an office in his hacienda, so Ladrons home had it too. He didn't use it a lot, but there was something he was delaying for weeks and now has to be done. It was cold inside that room, so he took another long sip, this time from office bottle. "A real man's tea", he said. "For your health, el almirante Hall." Another sip. "And yours too, senor Nodtviet, hahaha!" Like any other person, Ladron was happy to see he outlived some of his enemies. He was standing there for awhile and smiling. But, down to business now. He left the bottle on its place. It was half... empty? Full? Better make it full empty and solve that problem at least. Few long sips did the work.

He turned his neural console on and hologram of Chief of Police office surrounded him. That Chief, it was him. The office was his Imperial office downtown. No one knew how he got so far. He probably was just at the right place at the right time. More fascinating (and disgusting in the same time) was the fact he was doing Elders jobs too. They were more interested in fiestas, so until something goes very wrong he was free to do their job. And he did. Lot of decisions to make, lot of papers to sign. After a bottle of tequila - piece of cake. Open the file and get on it:

- Spare parts, food, medicines and reinforcements for Barcelona in Sigmas: SIGNED.
- Spare parts, food, medicines and reinforcements for Casablanca: NOT SIGNED. "I saw them, they are fat" he added a comment.
- Spare parts and more workers for sausage factories at Gran Canaria: SIGNED.
- Supplies for Zoner allies freezing at Gran Canaria: HALVED.
- Warm clothes, blankets and other supplies for Zoner allies freezing at Pygar: HALVED.
- Imperial customs and taxes: RAISED A BIT. "Easy. Step by step." a comment was added.
- Missive to Gallic authorities about Relics trade dropping: NEXT TIME.
- Death sentences for TV news directors and editors: SIGNED. "I told them to take el money" another comment.
- Ships service and new parts for Flipado: NOT SIGNED. "Because I can" he added a comment with a smile.
- New towels for El Agujero prison: NOT SIGNET. "Caramba, who asked for THAT!" a comment.
- Food rations for Cretan orphanage centers: HALVED. "They've got tobacco delivery" a comment...

There was more to be signed, but he decided to leave it for tomorrow. A lot of well-doings were done today and his eyes were closing. He was sure "Greater Good" was his middle name. He rolled to bed with smile and in his deep wisdom he dreamed about his place in heaven.

"Sigh", Santa Muerte said from her scary place of eternal chaos. "Stupido."

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