Audacious Page 8

  “So, I’m guessing that Gramma Ruth would be happy if a Marine or two joined her bodyguard,” Kris said.

  “No, no, gal. I’m not a target. You are. Not me.”

  “We’ll take that under consideration,” Jack said.

  From the way the sergeant in the front seat was smiling, Kris suspected the decision had already been referred to Captain DeVar and Gramma Ruth’s opinion was no longer relevant.

  And if her hired security had any thoughts of selling out, the sudden discovery that they now had Marine shadows could not help but encourage them to think again.

  They arrived at the Acropolis; Gramma Ruth went in with three Marines to arrange lunch. Jack and the sergeant set up a perimeter for the three rigs to keep them unbooby-trapped, and set a rotation so everyone got a chance to eat and the rigs were never alone. They finished about the time Gramma Ruth returned.

  “We’ve got their largest room. Jack, you want to see to its debugging? Kris, you’re going to love this place.”

  It turned out one of the Marines on Ruth’s initial escort was a defensive tech specialist and had already gotten the room cleared by the time they got there. The walk through the great room was…an experience.

  The usual clientele totally ignored, or at least did a very good imitation of ignoring, the parade of uniformed marines. Even the snipers with long guns slung down the front of their full-battle rattle got no second looks.

  “Interesting place you have here,” Kris said to the owner, as he took them down an aisle lined with artificial grapevines. On the wall of the main room was a view of the rebuilt Acropolis above Athens. It looked hand painted.

  “I provide what my clients want,” the owner said, smiling jovially, then added with a shrug, “If I don’t, there are plenty of places in town who will.”

  Kris tossed Gramma Ruth a glance. Which Ruth let go right by. Clearly any explanation would save for later.

  The room was large. Its walls were painted with window views of old Earth’s Greece. The sniper teams took seats at the tables beside the two real windows. The one door was quickly surrounded by Marines at the tables closest to it.

  Ruth led the way to the table in the room’s center. “This should do us fine.”

  The owner offered to take their orders. “It’s lunch. Most people are rushed.”

  Ruth glanced at the menu, then ordered something in Greek that made the owner smile. “You have excellent taste, Madame.”

  Kris ordered the same. As did Jack and Penny. The owner left promising them a magnificent experience. Around Kris, most of the Marines were ordering hamburgers, though a few did go for the lamb version of the familiar lunch.

  As the waiters left, Gramma Ruth unfolded her linen napkin, sipped from her water, and asked, “So, why are you here?”

  Kris gave the usual explanation.

  Gramma Ruth barely managed to swallow her water before she spat a mirthless laugh. “No wonder Trouble was so mad at Ray the last time he messaged me. The love of my life was his usual coy self, refusing to tell me what Ray was up to. Said I’d find out soon enough. I guess I have.”

  Now Kris demurely unfolded her napkin. “So I take it you don’t have sealed orders to hand me. I was so looking forward to Grampa Ray telling me just once what he’d sent me into.”

  Gramma Ruth snorted several times as Kris finished. “The problem is, Kris, that the old boy has no idea what he’s doing. Don’t you know that by now?”

  “Are we talking about the same Ray Longknife, legend from one end of human space to the other. King of some sort over a hundred planets?” Kris asked.

  Jack and Penny looked a bit uncomfortable at what some might consider treason…if not to the putative royalty, at least to the historical legend. Around the room, Marines got very interested in the wall paintings.

  “Kris, girl, haven’t you figured out the truth here? Cause if you’re still all starry eyed about your lineage, it won’t do us any good for me to tell you the answer.”

  Kris didn’t shoot back an immediate response, but chose her words carefully. “Gramma, I knew that what most people take for the Longknife facts are more a product of poor reporting and just plain luck. Unbelievable luck to still be alive, all things considered. We are flesh and blood like everyone else.”

  “That is nice to hear,” Gramma sniffed. “So talk to me about Grampa Ray, named by some king of a hundred planets.”

  Kris thought for a moment, then, without raising her voice, said. “Marines, I really don’t want to read about this in the media tomorrow.” A few heads nodded, then she went on, “Grampa Ray comes from a long line of barkers and biters. And if anyone in his lineage ever stopped by a church, it was only to nip and snap at the preacher’s heels.”

  Jack and several other marines looked likely to choke. Penny actually beamed. Probably the first smile Kris had seen on her face since the battle that made her a widow.

  Gramma Ruth grinned from gray hair to gray hair. “I don’t believe I could have said it better.”

  “So,” Kris immediately went on, “we’re agreed Grampa Ray isn’t some superman. Doesn’t have a crystal ball, and sometimes shoots his way out of the messes he’s gotten himself, and half of humanity, into. Stipulating that, why would he send me here?”

  There was a harsh rap at the door. A moment later several waiters charged in carrying delightfully aromatic platters.

  And Marines made automatics disappear as quickly as they’d appeared. For a long minute, Kris watched as an interesting array of food was set before her. As she had so often when on the campaign trail for Father, Kris prepared to see what and how a more knowledgeable elder ate, and would follow her lead.

  When the help left, Gramma seemed to have other things on her mind. As she slowly ate from a strange-looking salad with a stranger-smelling cheese, she eyed Kris.

  Kris let the silence stretch, then slowly twist itself into a pretzel. Finally, she grabbed the bull by the horns. “Gramma, why doesn’t everyone on Eden get to vote?”

  Ruth laughed at that. “Ask the old girl a question. Huh. That’ll get her talking.” She looked at the lunch, mostly untouched. “Well, you folks fill your mouths. The lamb is especially good with the couscous. That’s this stuff.”

  Kris took a small bite to keep Gramma happy. It actually tasted good. Still, she put her fork down and gave the older woman her full attention.

  “I can’t answer one question without firing up more, so let me start at the beginning. The various space programs on old Earth had just about completed their first fusion-powered spaceships when a lunkhead on a quantum-gravity research grant spotted this weird something out Jupiter’s way.

  “The Chinese shot off an unmanned high-speed probe that somehow stumbled into the jump point and vanished. Suddenly, the mission to Mars didn’t seem so interesting and all three, the Santa Maria from Europe, the Columbia from America, and the Smiling Goddess from China are not quite racing for this little bit of nothing orbiting Jupiter.

  “And despite the calmer heads back on Earth telling them to be careful, the three ships, after ducking just one remote through the jump, went charging through themselves.

  “You know about the Santa Maria getting lost?” Penny and Kris nodded at that. “That kind of set the others back a bit. But only a bit. Alpha Centauri is a bust of a system. But there, not a day’s hop from Earth’s jump, was this other one, and behind it was lovely, blue-green Eden.

  “It took the Chinese all of five seconds to announce they’d be colonizing the place. Which meant the Americans had to. And the Europeans couldn’t be left out. Now, who do you think was ready to come out here?”

  “The best and the brightest,” Kris said. That was the usual answer the teacher expected.

  “Thank you for the textbook answer,” Ruth drawled. “Now, who do you really think got on the ship to leave Earth forever?”

  “Didn’t the Chinese basically just press-gang their transportees?” Penny said.

  “I ex
pect that was in your schoolbook, if you grew up anywhere but the Chinese section of Eden, honey, but I don’t think the old lords of Beijing were all that different.

  “Eden got some folks that couldn’t wait to see what’s out here, but they aren’t that many. Then came folks the old regime wanted to see gone. Some were in prison; others were just troublemakers. The Europeans and Americans emptied their jails of all but the worst offenders. And there were the religious zealots out to create a perfect world for their true believers.”

  “That’s not exactly the mix you hear about in the Lander’s Day speeches,” Kris said, having sat through many a long-winded one praising the gallant, foresighted founders of Wardhaven.

  Gramma chuckled. “Back on old Earth, the Americans were a lot like us, a population made up of folks who fled Europe. Some came on their own. Most were flat broke and came as indentured servants, in hock for their passage. Some were headed for jails when they signed their indenture. Two hundred years later, people might want ancestors from the early boats. But one American businessman of that time, a Benjamin Franklin, I think it was, had a different view. ‘We ought to thank King George for his new colonists by shipping him rattlesnakes in return.’”

  “Rattlesnakes?” Jack said.

  “Yeah,” Gramma Ruth answered. “Big, poisonous things. Not what you want to come across in a dark alley.”

  “And it was like that here on Eden?” Kris said.

  “For a while. Then the Americans found their own planet, Columbia. The Chinese got New Canton all to themselves. Same for Europa with the Europeans. Yamoto got the Japanese into the act. And the less said about New Jerusalem, the better. So interest in New Eden, and New Haven, another one-for-all colony kind of dried up.

  “And Eden was having enough trouble. Who’s in charge? So once the banks weren’t running things, the folks had a bit of a problem on their hands, figuring out just what kind of government they wanted telling them what to do. Did I mention that most of them didn’t cotton to much telling?”

  “So each set up their show to run their side,” Kris said.

  “With them setting the rules for their territory, and vetoing any law they didn’t like for the planetary government. It worked fine at first,” Ruth said.

  “But they needed more labor than could be done by the babies they were producing,” Penny said.

  “You can praise technology all you want, but there’s still the dirty work, the stuff no one wants their kids to grow up and have to do,” Ruth said.

  “So they imported them from Earth,” Kris said.

  “And as these guest workers grew in numbers, the problem of them not having any say in how they were governed got to be more and more of a problem,” Gramma Ruth concluded.

  Kris pursed her lips in thought. “And no one knows what to do about it.”

  “Oh, don’t kid yourself. They’ve known what they have to do since before the Iteeche War. Ray probably could have gulled them into it…if we hadn’t suddenly found ourselves up to our eyeballs in critters with too many eyeballs and no love for us. When you’re crossing a raging river, it’s really hard to talk folks into changing their horse. Tarnation, girl! Some folks would consider it a damn fool thing to even consider. No, Ray folded his tent real fast, and the way things were stayed the same. Right up to today.”

  “Everyone knows what needs doing?” Jack said.

  “Every year, students throw the same debate. Kids with franchise defending the status quo. Kids from the other side of town pointing out why it can’t go on this way. Lots of ideas for working the change. Some want just one big happy parliament, like so many other planets have. That kind of frightens a lot of folks. Big changes tend to.

  “So others suggest more of the same. The Spanish should have their own house. And the Turks. Or maybe them and the Arabs. Or maybe not. You begin to see the problem. The African’s want theirs, of course. And you don’t dare do something like this without giving the Japanese their say-so. What with Yamato looking out for all the sons of Nippon in space, you can’t short them. Oh, and then we need one for everyone who isn’t covered. Oh, and where do the Filipinos fit, Spanish or other. Or…?”

  Gramma Ruth shrugged. “Once you set the wheel in motion, figuring out where to stop gets awfully hard.”

  “So people who have the franchise figure better the devil you know,” Kris said.

  “But they aren’t paying the devil’s piper,” Penny added.

  “And nothing gets done,” Jack finished.

  “Until the wheels come off,” Gramma pointed out. “And you got to admire how well Eden is doing, keeping folks in the dark about how wobbly those wheels are. Lot of my franchised students never had a serious talk with someone who wasn’t, until they got to my class. It’s an eye-opening experience, let me tell you.”

  Kris mulled that over while she took another nibble at her lunch. It was really quite good. It was just that her appetite had done a vanishing act. She’d have to give this place another chance when she could concentrate on the food.

  “What would have happened,” she said slowly, “if we hadn’t caught that bomb yesterday? What if it had gotten who it was intended to? That looked like a very prestigious cavalcade.”

  “The papers would have said nothing,” Ruth said, munching something that she’d unwrapped from a grape leaf.

  “And the dead,” Kris said, reaching for one of the fig-wrapped items.

  “Heart attack, poor dear. Didn’t get him to the hospital on time. Or one of those rare, untreatable cancers. Or maybe a skiing accident. Amazing the number of eighty-year-old types who take up skiing late in life.”

  “Here on Eden!” Kris said.

  “That’s true,” Nelly said. “I’ve just checked the database. Kris, the most likely cause of death for people in business or government is heart attack, cancer, or skiing. Five times the planet’s average for people not in those lines of work.”

  “How many skiers died the day after our little shoot-out?” Jack asked.

  “None,” Nelly reported. “However, a large helicopter went down. It was taking twelve people to ski in Aspen.”

  “Nelly,” Gramma Ruth said with an impish grin. “Could you tell me how many of them had ever been skiing before?”

  “No.” The computer’s response actually sounded like a whimper. “On just about any other planet I could. Not on Eden. Here databases are a babble.”

  Before Nelly could go into depth on that, Gramma Ruth succeeded in cutting her off. “I know. I’ve had Trudy send me the best hacking and cracking gear she has. No go. This place is locked down tight.”

  “You know my Aunt Tru?” Kris asked.

  “Since long before you were born. We owe each other a life several times over. I’ve forgotten who’s ahead at the moment.”

  Kris nodded, taking in the quiet statement of life on the line time after time, and death just one misstep away. But Gramma Ruth had lived to sport all those gray hairs. And Tru was enjoying her retirement. Or near retirement. Or maybe not retirement. Last Kris had heard, Tru was heading for Alien 1.

  “So,” Kris said thoughtfully, “we all agree Eden has a problem and needs to change. Most folks even seem to know how.”

  “Though there are the usual suspects who like the way things are and won’t take kindly to messing with how it is, was, and ever should be their way,” Gramma Ruth cut in.

  “Isn’t it always.” Kris sighed. “But what’s one young Longknife supposed to do? Grampa Ray can’t expect me to snap my fingers and change this planet. I don’t change planets.”

  “I know a few that might disagree,” Penny said dryly.

  “Want me to name them,” Jack added with a grin.

  “But all of them were already headed downhill and in a hurry. All I did was nudge them a bit here. Maybe a bit more there. I affected what happened. I didn’t make it happen.”

  Jack and Penny thought for a moment, then nodded agreement.

  Gramma Ruth munched away fo
r a minute on her lunch, then patted her lips and laid her napkin down. “You know, there’s a reason why folks don’t like change. You start to change a bit, you never can tell where you’re going to end up. History is full of changes that started out good, then went bad. People who got a ball rolling, then found that some thugs—Robespierre, Lenin—grabbed it and ran off with it where nobody wanted to go, where no reasonable person would want.”

  Gramma Ruth eyed them for a moment. “The problem when you’ve got all the news scrubbed down to just the nice is that you don’t know who the players are. I don’t. Do you, Kris?”

  And with that unsettling thought, they parted company.

  A fourth rig joined them for the ride back to campus. It worried Kris a bit, but not for long. When they stopped at Gramma Ruth’s apartment, three Marines dismounted. Not uniformed Marines, but individuals in civilian clothes that were way too clean-cut and ramrod straight to be students.

  Gramma Ruth spotted them at once. She gave them a cheery wave, then waved at her own hired guard. The guards took a long look at the Marines.

  Kris was gone before the next act of that play.

  For once, Kris hoped the afternoon bargaining went long. She needed time. She and Nelly needed a serious research session. If the ambassador had plans for Kris’s evening, he would find one princess who’d learned to say no. After all, she’d said it a lot at the bargaining table.

  Abby intercepted Kris on her way to rejoin her team. “Your Highness, boss, and lord, I’ve been trying to take some time ever since you landed. You mind if I take the evening off?”

  “You can have the afternoon, too,” Kris said. “I am not going out tonight. And I still remember how to fill my own tub. You go look up your mommy or daddy or ex-boyfriend or whoever it is you want to see here.”

  “I’ll give them all a hug from you,” Abby said, as dry as any bone.

  15

  Abby found that the old neighborhood had changed a lot…and not changed at all.

  Tram Line 79 no longer went to Five Corners. It was now Line 128. But the tram Abby rode in could have been the same one she rode out fifteen years ago. She was tempted to peel off the layers of graffiti to find what it had sported back then.