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Kaiju Preservation Society(58)

Author:John Scalzi

In a small change of pace, however, this trip the Shobijin would be bringing trash into Tanaka.

The gangway to Tanaka Base was extended and the door to the passenger compartment opened. Because this was mostly a cargo run, the passenger cabin of the Shobijin had been reconfigured, but there were still a few seats left for the tourists who had come to visit us. The first of these tourists finally appeared at the door and started down the gangway, followed by a second, and then a third and apparently final tourist.

Rob Shitmonkey Sanders. The former CEO of füdmüd.

“How the ever-loving Christ is he a tourist here?” I had demanded of Tom the day before, when he’d broken the news to me that Sanders was on his way.

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “The only thing I can guess is that he spent some of those billions you said he got from selling füdmüd and gave them to KPS, and they let him come over to see the place.”

“So that’s how it works? Shovel a couple of million to KPS and they let you pet the monsters?”

“Well, yes, actually,” Tom admitted. I gave him a look, which he noticed. “This is how the game is played, Jamie. There’s only so much governments can fund us before who we are and what we do becomes part of the public record. Getting money from the über-rich—”

“I see what you did there.”

“—is part of how we do our job and still keep this mostly under wraps.”

“It’s a sketchy way to get funding.”

“Wait until you figure out that at least some of that billionaire funding is actually government funding,” Tom said. “They contract with the billionaire’s company for a service on an expensive no-bid contract with the understanding that a cut of that revenue makes it here.”

“Billionaires are laundering government money for us?”

“Basically.”

“I reiterate my amazement this is all still somehow a secret,” I said.

“Acknowledged,” Tom said. “And remember what I said the first time we ever talked about it. It’s secret, but not that secret.” He pointed at his tablet. “Sometimes that means letting people we’d rather not in on the secret.”

Watching Rob Sanders now walking down the gangway, I leaned toward Tom, who was standing next to me, along with Brynn MacDonald, as part of the welcoming party. “I can’t promise I won’t feed him to the tree crabs,” I said.

“Resist the temptation,” Tom suggested. “It would be bad to feed our funders to the fauna.”

“Maybe just parts of him.”

“Jamie.”

“Fine,” I said. “I will let him live. Today.”

The three tourists made their way to where we were standing, and MacDonald greeted the first of them. “Major General Tipton,” she said. “Welcome back to Tanaka Base.” She nodded to Sanders and the other tourist. “I understand you’re running with half of your expected team at the moment.”

“We are,” he said. “Dr. Gaines, who was with us from the Department of Energy, had a severe asthma attack after we crossed over to Honda Base. She’s recuperating there in their medical facility, and the other two members of her team elected to stay with her.”

“I hope she’ll be all right.”

“She’ll be fine. They’ll keep her people busy, I’m sure.” Tipton motioned to Sanders and the other person on his team. “Allow me to introduce Colonel David Jones, my aide, and this is Robert Sanders, who is here representing Tensorial, one of our major contractors. He’s taken on this role from his father.”

I blinked at this and then remember Tom mentioning a couple of weeks back that Sanders came from a family that made its money from defense contracts. I suppose this meant he’d come back into the fold in the last few weeks.

“Pleasure,” MacDonald said. “This is Tom Stevens, my aide, and Jamie Gray, who will be your liaison during your stay.”

Sanders pointed to Tom. “You look familiar somehow,” he said.

“We overlapped at Dartmouth,” Tom said. “I was a couple of years behind you.”

“Well, isn’t it a small world,” Sanders said. “Speaking of which”—he turned and faced me. “Look who this is!”

“It’s me,” I agreed.

“You know Rob?” Tipton asked.

“Jamie was one of my executives at füdmüd,” Sanders told him.

“Oh! You must have been very pleased at your stock payout when Uber bought your company,” Tipton said to me.

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