"We have found that female snipers can be deadlier than the men," Kris noted.
The general turned to eye the embassy that lay at his feet. "I thought that when we sent you off to build your new embassy that we had you well away from our sandy beach, busy chasing after wild gossips and anticipated that we would not see you again for a long time. Instead, you conjure this out of nothing and have thrown a snowball off of a snow-covered mountain."
"A small snowball can create an avalanche," Kris remarked.
"And you, Human Princess, seem to know exactly where to throw snowballs."
"I have been told that trouble follows in my footsteps."
"And here I thought we'd brought you here to solve our troubles."
"Yes. Speaking of which, I will soon be leaving. I have a few more planets to conquer."
"I had heard that you were going to take matters more slowly."
"Yes, I had heard that, too. However, I think I need to kick some rebels a few more times in their shins before I offer them an olive branch."
"Well, at least you are talking about that olive branch. I suspect that the Domm Clan will not be happy to speak of peace with you."
"Yes, but the lesson I taught the Domm Clan here may create opportunities with others. If not for profit, then to avoid further losses."
"I can only wish you a quick departure. I wonder what our fine capital will look like when we next see you."
"We have a saying. ‘Rome was not built in a day.’ "
The general looked nonplussed.
"Great cities are not built in a day," Kris amended. "Change has to be built slowly."
"You have not seen what I have," General Konga said. "At least among the fleet and Guard, they like the change they see."
"Until we meet again?" Kris said.
"Yes," the general answered.
With that, the general left, leaving Kris with her husband and Abby.
"That was interesting," Abby drawled. "Kind of surprising, but interesting."
Jack shook his head. "It is stupid for an Empire to separate itself from those who defend its existence. No ruling class should treat its defenders like second-class citizens."
"More like dirt," Kris said. "The clans have first- and second-class citizens. The Navy, Marines, and Guardsmen are not even in a track for citizenship."
"So, you treat them decently," Abby said, "and they'll be eating out of your hand in no time."
"Or eat your hand off up to the elbow," Jack added.
Kris mused for a moment on both their thoughts, then said, "You both seem to have the proper take on it."
For a moment longer, Kris enjoyed the air and the view from up here, then she shook herself. "Okay, team, we've had enough fun for the day, let's get back to work. I got a war to win."
"But win slowly," Abby said.
"Yeah, very slowly," Jack added.
Kris said nothing as she lead them out of the sunlight and down the stairs.
4
It had been a while since Kris held a staff meeting. She'd talked almost daily with each member of her staff but hadn't had time to talk to them all together. Now it was past time.
While the embassy was very imposing from the outside, much of the inside was vast volumes of empty space. It had to be that way. If all that space had been divided up among those still in the embassy, each man, woman, and child would have a hectare of deck to call their own. It would take half an hour for anyone to get to breakfast.
Most of the humans were crammed into the top twenty stories.
Thus, to find room for Kris's meeting, Nelly had bulged her day quarters out onto the balcony. It provided for a nice view of the Imperial precincts.
At Kris's elbows sat Jack and Abby, then Abby's husband, Lieutenant General Bruce RUSMC. He'd commanded the defense of the embassy during the rocket attack.
Next to him were Gramma and Grampa Trouble, temporarily borrowed from riding herd on Kris's two kids. The two of them were Kris's great-grandparents and veterans of the Iteeche War. There, both of them, first Grampa, then Gramma, had earned their name. It was no longer a nickname. Grampa was trouble to his enemies, trouble to his superiors, and very often just too much trouble to have around. Still, he'd earned four stars. Gramma had only won a single star, but any Marine in Human space braced when she came in sight.
Amanda and Jacques were next, representing Kris's brain trust. Amanda was a brilliant economist who, at last report, was still trying to figure out the Iteeche economic system, if what they did followed any sort of system. Jacques was a sociologist and fascinated by the structures and strictures of Iteeche society. Like everyone else on staff, the more he learned about the Iteeche, the more puzzled he became.
Admiral Tong provided the Iteeche voice on Kris’ staff. He commanded the Iteeche Battle Fleet swinging around the station well over their head. He had escorted Kris back to the capital and his fleet Marine Force had provided Kris with the fire power to resolve the recent unpleasantness before it got out of hand.
He was now her right-hand Iteeche.
At his elbow was his own right-hand man. Admiral Ulan was acting Chief of Staff for the Combined Fleets. He'd stayed back at headquarters in the capital, holding down the fort, while Kris and Admirals Coth and Tong were out winning battles. Still, Ulan was the man to go to if you wanted to know where the most recent skeletons had been interred around the capital.
Both had served well in the recent imbroglio.
Coming back around the table was Ambassador Kawaguchi. He represented not only Musashi and Yamato but several other small associations. He had also been the sole ambassador not to run for the exit when things got hot. While the rest of the trade delegations from Human space, even old Earth, had failed to find anything to trade with the Iteeche, he had. Today, he had a man at his elbow who also had the lean and hungry look of a diplomat. No doubt, the ambassador would introduce his guest.
Which brought Kris's gaze to Lieutenant Megan Longknife, Kris's young cousin and aide de camp. The young woman was about due for a promotion. Time in grade didn’t mean that much to Kris. A year around her passed quicker, like dog years.
Next to Amanda was Jack.
Kris started with Abby. In theory, she was the contract boss supporting all administrative needs for the embassy. If you needed anything, from an ice cream sundae to a large ballroom for a diplomatic reception, or a nice huge hall to throw a beer bash for a victorious army, Abby supplied it.
"Anything we need to know about the workings of the embassy?" Kris asked.
Abby shook her head. "I've just about polished off the long list of grumbles about the new spaces in the tower. I don't expect any more," she said, scowling around the table.
Kris doubted anyone would dare.
"We've refilled our pantry and freezers now that no one's protesting around us and keeping folks from running up and down the beanstalk. I got a few replacements in this week for those that ran when things got a little hot. My staff is at full strength. We're having no problems quartering that brigade of Marines you've got down here. How long they gonna stay?" Abby queried.
"I haven't decided yet," Kris said. "Depends on when I sail the fleet out of here."
"Any idea when that will be?" Jack asked.
"I'm still thinking about it as I watch the clans shake out their new pecking order. Trust me, General, you'll be the first to know."
"Hmm," her husband and the head of her security force muttered.
Kris ignored any vague question buried in that response and went on, "General Bruce?"
"The embassy defenses are fully online, ship shape and Bristol fashion. We can protect the embassy from everything from rioters to rockets. We've also taken over security for six blocks around the embassy. Iteeche MPs are walking the beat in this district you ‘inherited.’ It seems that law enforcement as well as the fire department is part of the clan's power in its own enclave. The MPs are keeping an eye on strangers who wander in. Some we bust for spying
on us. Some we let outsmart us. It's better to have a few tame spies than not know who is in the business around you. Thanks for giving me Agent Foile. He really understands how this game is played."
"Is he having any trouble tracking our spies back to their clients?" Kris asked.
"We're bugging them and tracing them when they wander home," Steve said, then shrugged. "Usually they take steam baths as soon as they get back from their foray into our space. That washes off the bugs, but by then we know which clan they moseyed back to."
"Don't you just hate it when the bad guys learn the dirty tricks you're playing on them?" Abby drawled, ruefully.
Sadly, Kris agreed with Abby, but she had more to do. "Who's spying on us?"
"Everyone, I think," Bruce said, with a lopsided grin. "Our friends like the We and Quo Clans are keeping an eye on us. Same for the clans that sat out the last shoot-out. Of course, those clans that don't like us are doing their best to watch from behind the curtains. There hasn’t been a twitch from the clans who went to war with us last month, but then, there isn't a lot of them left."
That got a snicker from most of those around the table. The two diplomats stayed diplomatically straight-faced.
"Five will get you ten," Jack said, "that some enterprising Iteeche opens a public steam bath a block or two from our district so the spies can wash off sooner."
Kris shook her head. So did everyone else around the table.
"No takers, huh?" Jack muttered.
"Bruce," Kris said, "I got a nice, friendly visit from General Konga today. I walked him through the battle station, and we hung around the viewing deck for a bit. I'm pretty sure he was looking for the 24-inch lasers we took off the battlecruisers that we made the embassy out of. Where are you storing those lasers?"
"I figured you wouldn't want them aimed at anything unless and until we needed them. Abby gave me space from the twentieth to the fortieth floors to store the lasers, their reactors, and their capacitors. I figured you'd want them handy if we needed them, but not threatening anyone if we didn't need to."
"Good thinking, General. Yes, I don't want to look too paranoid, but my mom didn't raise any stupid children."
"There are times when I wonder about that," Jack muttered.
"Down, husband. This is official business and you must not give away state secrets."
That drew chuckles again from around the table. Even the diplomats cracked smiles.
Kris figured she'd heard all there was to hear from her defense chief. She passed on to her historical advisors.
"Gramma, Grampa, can you add anything to help us figure out the enigma of the Iteeche Empire?"
"It is interesting that they are allowing you to set up shop so much closer to the Emperor and violate their building height limits around the palace," Gramma Trouble opened with. "Back in the day, every Iteeche POW we had did the same thing every day. They followed the orders of superior clan lordlings we captured and kind of set up their own demi-clan in our POW camps. You earned a lot of good karma when you saved the Emperor and they're letting you break rules they wouldn't let anyone else break."
"There's more to it," Kris said, then filled them in on what she'd learned from General Konga about couples sharing the new and larger quarters Kris had gotten for them.
"My lord," Gramma Trouble said, "even in the POW camps, the females and males stayed separate. The women even asked for blankets so they could set up their own purdah. If you've got them mixing, you've got a revolution on your hands, Kris."
"Will the clans put the entire Navy in purdah to keep this from spreading?" Jack asked.
"Hard to say, old horse," Grampa Trouble answered. "I don't think the Empire has faced anything like this in several thousand years."
Jacques was quick to jump in with the views of a sociologist. "I don't think they are equipped to protect themselves from this or any other human sociological viruses. They've worked hard to pretty much keep in coventry our Human engineers who helped them build the Smart Metal battlecruisers. Still, everyone knows we Humans are running around doing things different. Or winning battles against impossible odds. All I can say is that it will be interesting to watch this."
Kris glanced at her two Iteeche admirals. They sat with all four hands folded in front of them and their faces blank. Since Iteeche had so few face muscles, that wasn't hard for them to do.
"May I add," Nelly put in, "that Agent Foile has monitored the presence of Navy couples in the bazaars. It's not unusual for a half-dozen sailors to cruise the bazaars or a dozen women to come as a group to shop. However, couples, especially a lot of couples together and separately, have been remarked upon by those who saw them. There is now a buzz in the bazaars about the new Navy ways. No doubt what is talked about in the bazaar is talked about at home. At work. Wherever. This new thing is no longer a secret."
"Congratulations, Princess Kristine," Ambassador Kawaguchi said. "You have once more set an Empire on a new course. Hopefully you will be just as successful at keeping your head this time as well.”
The good ambassador, as Kris's lawyer in a capital trial that could have ended with her meeting the axe-wielding head executioner of the Musashi Emperor, would notice that.
"Thank you, counselor, I'll try to remember that," Kris said, dryly. "Amanda, are you having any success in figuring out the Empire's economy?"
"I've got something, but I don't believe it," the lovely economist said.
"You don't believe it?" Kris said, her interest piqued.
"Everything I can figure out tells me that this entire three thousand planet Empire is operating on a feudal economy. They have no central bank. As best I can tell, the clans use fiat money within the clan and gold or a barter system if they have to trade anything across clan boundaries. According to what all human economists hold good, holy, and economical, there is no way that something this big can do this, but I can't find any strings to pull that will unravel this picture."
"Feudal?" Jack asked, incredulous.
"Yes, General. Feudal all the way down, and I do mean down. The Middle Ages on Earth averaged five levels of fealty. The king was at the top. A duke or something like it was next. Below him might be another level of barons. Then you got to the local knight ruling over his peasants. The basic coin of the realm was men-at-arms available to fight for the king."
Amanda glanced around the table. The humans nodded understanding, the two Iteeche admirals stayed motionless.
"You know the old saying, 'It's turtles all the way down'?"
Nods again from the humans. No response from the Iteeche.
"Well, it's feudalism all the way down. It crosses and criss-crosses here at the capital and out among the planets. The old Scottish clans had septs, cadet branches, extended families, and dependents. These clans have those and a couple of dozen layers below them, all connected in a web as much as a ladder, and all denoting a whole host of obligations and privileges reaching out in at least three dimensions, if not four. I've got my computer trying to map it all, but the picture makes a star map of this arm of the galaxy look simple."
Kris raised her eyebrows; she'd circumnavigated the galaxy. She'd seen some pretty intimidating star maps.
"What I cannot find," Amanda went on, "is what powers the relationship between all these groups caught in the web. A colony world may have three power districts, each under a different clan's control: A, B, and C. A swaps power with B when needed. B does the same with C. However, A and C refuse to have anything to do with each other. How does B handle power it has borrowed from the other two when one calls up to borrow a gigawatt on a hot day?"
She shook her head in dismay. "Here on the capital, we know that clans handle fire and police. Way down the pecking order, though, one sub-sub-sub-sept may be providing one or the other to five or six groups from other clans, and not all of them might be connected on the ground, either. I have no idea how they pay for this or otherwise handle the swap. I'm at my wit’s end."
"We do hav
e experts on the Iteeche now in our midst," Ambassador Kawaguchi said.
Kris turned her focus on the two Iteeche admirals.
Admiral Tong said one word. It involved two clicks of his beak and a sound like he'd swallowed his tongue, then coughed it up again.
Nelly did not translate it.
"Nelly?" Kris asked.
"Yes, Kris."
"What does that word mean?"
"Kris, I have been trying to translate it since I first encountered it. It seems to represent values such as debt and honor, but with strong hints of karma and just plain luck. The debt aspect certainly carries no hint of a monetary debt. The entire mixture of meanings cannot be translated into Standard or any other tongue spoken in Human space."
The room filled with silence as a breached hull filled with vacuum.
"I think we have finally found an example where our and their differences in evolution smack right up against each other," Jacques finally said.
"Can you fill the rest of us in on this?" Kris asked.
"This is all guesswork, but I've been mulling this over since Amanda brought this to me a couple of nights ago. Okay, we humans were, in ancient times, born into a family or small hunter-gatherer group where every man is the father and every woman the mother of every child, okay? That is the basis of almost all human relationships. The group has a leader who may have this or that level of authority, but we would not survive to adulthood if we didn't have this group to nurture us. Got it?"
"Yes," Kris said.
"Later, the group gets larger. Families coalesce into groups, then groups gather in villages, and so forth. Exchanges take place between groups, like barter and what have you. We got through feudal to more advanced stages of cultural development until you have the mature economic and social structures of the modern world. Still, drop us down on a fresh new world and we're back to family, friends, and barter. Okay?"
"Where is this going?" Jack asked.
"Have you ever studied a goldfish bowl?"
"I've spent time staring at a few when I needed to relax," Jack admitted.
Kris Longknife Stalwart Page 3
