by David Weber
Fionna's parents and grandparents had spoken of those bitter years. The gene pool was small; the environment was harsh; and BuCol's Corporate World bureaucrats had not gone out of their way to help. Those six decades of isolation had produced the dialect the Innerworlders mocked--and left a burning hatred in the hearts of the people who spoke it.
But then the unsuspected pharmaceutical potential of the Beaufort doomwhale had rocked Terran medical science, and suddenly the Corporate Worlds and the Assembly were filled with concern for the colony they had ignored for so long. The Corporate World combines had moved in, and the Corporate World nightmare had come for the people of Beaufort once more.
Yet cold, hostile Beaufort had trained them well, and the planetary government moved quickly to regulate doomwhaling and exclude the Corporate Worlds, unmoved by threats of economic reprisal. There was little anyone could do which the Corporate Worlds hadn't already done, and, for the first time in over a century and a half, Corporate World plutocrats were forced to dance to the eeo[*oslash] nomic piping of a Fringe World.
They had hated it, and it was Beaufort's successful resistance to their penetration which gave her delegation such prestige. Beaufort had proved the Corporate Worlds could be stopped; now it was time to prove they ceuld be pushed back, and Fionna MacTaggart had dedicated her professional life to that goal.
Yet there was only one of her, and she was tired... so very, very tired. Beyond each confrontation, another loomed, and she faced each a little more diminished, a little more weary.
She shook herself mentally, banishing the dark thoughts.
It had been a bad day--perhaps that was why she felt so somber. Or perhaps it was this reception. It had been scheduled before Taliaferro dropped his bomb, and canceling it now was out of the question, but it was a strain to be polite to the Corporate Wodders as they arrived.
Still, she thought with a sudden flicker of amusement, it might be equally hard on them.
She glanced at her watch. Another ten minutes and she could find herself a drink and begin to circulate.
That might help. It was always easier to deal with people in small, intimate groups rather than in formal, antagonistic public forums. Then she looked back up and bit off a curse as Oskar Dieter entered with his now-constant shadow, Fouchet.
Dieter paused at the head of the reception line, and his dark eyes glittered. Fionna didn't like Dieter; she never had, and she knew the feeling was mutual. Unlike Taliaferro, Dieter was a poor hand at hiding his emotions, and she'd flicked him on the raw often in debate. He resented that, and resented it all the more because she was a woman. The Constitution might outlaw sexual discrimination, but New Zurich's unwritten law enshrined it, and she suspected Dieter found her an insult to his prejudices as well as to his ambitions. Still, there were amenities to be observed, and sheeaheld out her hand with a smile.
"Mister Dieter." "Ms. MacTagsart." He bowed slightly, ignoring her hand, and his voice was cold, his eyes scornful. Fionna's palm itched.
"A pleasure to see you, sir," she made herself lie. "I understand you will be taking a major role in tomorrow's debate?" "Indeed," he said. "And so, I hear, will you. Playing your usual obstructionist role, I presume." Conversation slackened, and Fionna felt Ladislaus tighten beside her. She touched his hand unobtrusively.
"I prefer, sir, to consider my role as that of a constrnc,-tive advooate for the Fringe Worlds," she said, equally coldly. "We, too, have a right to present our point of view and to contend for our values and dreams." "Values and dreams?! Fringe garbage!" Dieter flushed suddenly, his voice hissing, and Fionna's eyes widened. Good God, what ailed the man? One simply didn't say things like that at formal receptions!
"Yes, Mister Dieter," she heard herself say, "we, too, have our dreams and aspirations--or will the Corporate Worlds take even those from us?" Ripples of silence raced outward. Fionna dared not turn to see the effect of the acid exchange, yet neither dared she to ,ill disi! retreat. It was one thing to appear reasonable; it was quite another to appear weak.
"We have no desire for them," Dieter sneered. "You speak very prettily in debate, for a Fringe Worlder, Madam, but the Assembly'will not be blind to your barbarism and xenophobia forever. You and your kind have stood in the path of civilization too long?
He almost spat the last words, and suddenly she smelled his breath. Reefgrubs! He was almost in orbit on New Athens mizir! How could he be so stupid as to meet her in this condition? But whatever madness possessed him wasn't her worry; responding to his attack was.
"We may be barbarians, sir," she said, and her voice rang clearly in the silence, "but at least we have the advantage of you in manners!" Dieter's face twisted as the crowd murmured approval. Even through the haze of mizir fumes he could sense the incredible blunder he'd made. But recognizing it and reo trieving it were two different things, and his fuddled brain was unequal to the task.
"Slut!" he hissed suddenly, thrusting his face close to hers. "You've aped your betters for too long! Get home to your stinking little ball of mud and make babies to play in the muck!" Fionna and her guests froze. Enmity between political leaders was nothing new, but this--to No one could quite believe Dieter was so lost to self-control, yet his words hung in the supercharged air like a sub-critical mass of plutonium, and they waited breathlessly for the explosion.
The New Zuricher rebounded from the blow, crashing into Fouchet, blood bursting from the corner of his mouth.
He stared at Ladislaus for a moment of terror, then clawed himself upright, gobbling curses while Fouchet's hand darted inside his tunic. But Ladislaus wasn't yet done, and Fionna's world reeled about her as his quarterdeck rasp cut through Dieter's fury.
"You're to meet me for this," he grated.
Dieter's mouth snapped shut as a warning battered at the mizir. He was in the Beaufort enclave; the enclaves enjoyed extraterritoriality; and on Beaufort, dueling was an accepted fact of life.. He stared at the giant before him, and for the first time he understood the difference be- tween a patiently plodding ox and a charging bull.
"I--I--was He fought for words. "This is... is preposter- ous! Barbaric! You can't be--was "Aye, we're to be called barbarians," Ladislaus agreed grimly, "but it's to meet me you'll be for all of that." "I--I won't!" Dieter gasped desperately.
"No?" Ladislaus wrapped one hand in the New Zuricher's tunic, and muscles bred to a gravity a thirdeaagiin that of Old Terra's rippled as he lifted him from the floor. "You've the right to be calling barbarians, but not the guts to be facing one, have you? But it's on Beaufort soil you are the now! It's Beaufort law has the ruling of it here." "Let him go, Skjorning!" It was Fouchet, his hand still inside his tunic, and Ladislaus' blue eyes moved coldly to the security man's tighteaface.
"Chief?." the big Friffger said softly.
"Mister Fouchet," Fionna's voice rang through the hor- rified room, "You are legally on the soil of Beaufort, and as chief of her delegation, I will thank you to remove your hand from your tunieempty." Fouchet eyed her contemptuously, then paled.
Three grim-faced Assembly lictors stood behind her, stun batons in hand and a hard light in their eyes. He hadn't seen them appear, but he knew whose orders they would obey in this room.
His hand came out of his tunic--empty.
"Thank you," Fionna said icily, then touched Ladislaus lightly on the arm. "Put him down, Lad," she said quietly.
For a moment it seemed the towering blond giant might refuse, then he slammed Dieter back onto his feet, and the Corporate Wodder swayed. Fionna's eyes were emer- ald ice, but her voice was colder.
@u "Mister Dieter, you have been challenged to honorable combat by Ladislaus Skjorning. Do you accept the chal- lenge?"" "I-- Nol Of course not! It's---was "Be silent!" Fionna's voice whiplashed across his splut- tering and shocked him into silence. "Very well. You have declined the challenge--as is your right. But as represen- tative of Beaufort on Old Terra, it is my duty to inform you that you are no longer welcome on her soil. Leave. If you ev
er return, you will be forcibly ejected." Dieter stared at her like a gaffed fish, the mottled red print of Ladislaus' hand the only color in his white face. He looked desperately around the circle of hostile faces, and he found no support. Not a man or woman present questioned Fionna's decision. He opened his mouth.
Fionna couldn't fault Lad--comexcept, perhaps, in that the challenge had rightfully been hers to give. Such behavior was not tolerated on Beaufort, nor most other Fringe Worlds. Sparse societies in alien environments tended to be armed, and insults carried a stiff price. Yet even if she couldn't question his act, she regretted the impact she expected it to have.
But the actual impact surprised her. The Corporate Worlds might have convinced the Heart Worlds the Fringe was uncouth, but not even they dared argue that a society's customs could be challenged with impunity. That sort of intolerance would have destroyed the Federatiori long since, and no Heart Worlder hesitated to condemn Dieter's behavior.
Not even the excuse that he'd been drugging (acceptable on most Heart Worlds, though not in the Fringe) could mitigate his unforgivable boorishness.
So far as the Heart Worlds were concerned, the whole focus of the Corporate-Fringe World debate had been shifted by a single instance of supremely bad manners.
The Fringers' reactions were even more startling.
She'd expected a ground swell of anger she would never be able to control; instead, she got a tightening of ranks and an upwelling of ever stronger support.
The hatred she'd expected was there, but it was controlled by respect for her and Ladislaus.
Dieter's stupidity had strengthened her prestige with Fringer and Heart Worlder alike, and the Corporate Worlds lost ground steadily in debate. The amalgamation issue was far from resolved, but under her leadership the Fringe had emerged as astnoderate and reasonable entity, and as the days passed, she felt the pendulum swinging in her favor.
Simon Taliaferro's joviality was in abeyance, and his eyes were cold as Oskar Dieter and Francois Fouchet entered his office.
"You idiot!" he flared. "How could you be so stupid?!" "I--I wasn't myself," Dieter muttered. "I was provoked!" "Provoked, hell!
You were glitter-dusted to the eyeballs, that's what you were! Look at these'--he slammed a fist on the sheaf of printouts on his desk--com?and tell me it was worth it!" "Mister Taliaferro," Fouchet's calm voice cut the super- heated tension like an icicle, "we're prepared to stipulate an error was made, but fixing blame won't solve our difficulties. Clearly gou have something to tell us; equally clearly it isn't something you much care for. Very well. Tell us, and let's see ff we can't find a way to retrieve the situation." Fouchet's coolness seemed to calm Taliaferro, and he drew a deep breath. Then he let it hiss out and squared his shoulders.
"You're right, Francois," he said finally. "I'll say no more about the... episode. But the consequences are out of all proportion, I assure you. These---was he thumped the printouts again his-comtell it all. A week ago, we had them; today, they're rolling us up like a rug." Dieter mopped his forehead with a tissue and said noth- ing. In one, terrible week he'd fallen from the Corporate Worlds' second most powerful leader into a sort of limbo. Every insider knew Fouchet spoke for New Zurich, and most expected Dieter to be recalled so Fouchet could replace him officially. He was ruined, and his eyes burned into Fouchet's back as he remembered who had encouraged him to glitter-dust that evening... and provided the drug that was so much more potent than he normally used.
"Those projections are confirmed?" Fouchet asked, and Taliaferro nodded. "But, of course, they're based on certain givens, aren't they?" "Any projection is, but there's not much room for change in the parameters. What it boils down to is that we've lost the high ground. In a straight debate over something as emotional as amalgamation, they'll probably beat us--even without the reapportionment issue. God! To think of a brainless lummox like Skjorning bumbling into the only thing that could hurt us this way!" "I'm not so sure he is brainless," Dieter offered in a subdued voice.
"Of course you're not," Taliaferro sneered.
"That'd make your little fiasco look better, wouldn't it?" Dieter wilted under the savage irony. "But he is a fool. He reacted with his muscles, the way he always does, and it just happened that this time it was the best thing he could do--or the worst, depending on your viewpoint!" "But it comes down to Skjorning and MacTaggart, doesn't it? Fouchet murmured thoughtfully, recapturing Taliaferro's attention.
"Eh? I suppose so--not that he's too important. It's MacTaggart. She's spent a quarter-century building a power base. She's got the best political brain in the whole Fringer crowd, and they know it--that's why they follow her lead -comb her control was slipping. Another few days and I'd'ye moved the vote, and every projection said she'd lose the firebrands on the floor. Well, the hotheads are hotter than ever, but she's got more authority than ever. They'll never break with her now." "No, I can see that," Fouchet said slowly, "but ff there were some way to remove her from the equation?" "Without MacTaggart, they'd attack us like wolves," Taliaferro said simply, "and that'd be just as good as their scattering like sheep. But we can't touch her. She can't be bought, she can't be blackmailed, she can't be intimidated, and she's headed the Fringe Caucus for fifteen years. After hst deek, she might as well be in God's hip pocket!" "True," Fouchet said, his lips curving slowly, "but accidents do happen, don't they? And Granyork isn't like a colony world. Why, we're right in the middle of the Northeast Corridor Conurbation, and that's a sort of jungle Fringers aren't well equipped to deal with.
"What are you saying?" Dieter's horror cut the sudden silence like a saw. "You can't possibly suggest--was "I didn't hear Mister Fouchet suggest a thing, Oskar," Taliaferro said coldly. "I only heard him speculating idly on matters totally beyond our control. And, of course, he's quite right. If Ms. MacTaggart were to suffer an. accident, it could only help us on the floor.
Unless, of course, our enemies were able to... invent... a connection between her accident and us." "Oh, of course" Fouchet agreed. "Of course." Fionna MacTaggart considered the face in her mirror critically. It wasn't quite as young as she still liked to think of herself, and she'd never been--comin her opinion--a beauty, but her image had nothing to apologize for. She nodded companionably to herself. "Just you and me, girl," she said softly. "No one else has to know how hard we worked for that, do they?" She chuckled and reached for her small evening bag.
She glanced into her bag at the snub-nosed and chunky two-millimeter needler and debated leaving it behind, for if it was small, it was still heavy. And it wasn't as ff she were headed into the back islands.
Granyork was the epicenter of the ultracivilized Heart Worlds. Still, she knew how Lad would react if she went unarmed.... She sighed and closed the bag.
She keyed her bedside terminal and the screen lit briefly with an attention pattern, then with Ladislaus" face.
"All set, Lad," she told him cheerfully.
"Would you have the ear sent around, please?" "Aye... ff you're not leaving your little toy behind," he said suspiciously.
"Me?" She laughed and clunked the bag solidly against the terminal. "See, Daddy?" "Laugh ff you will," he said with a slight grin, "but I rest easier knowing you're armed, Fi." "I know, Lad." She was touched by his use of her name, for Ladislaus was always careful to call her "Chief' to avoid any impression of taking advantage of their lifelong friendship. "I may think you're a little paranoid, but you're the man I chose for security chief. If you want me in a combat zoot with a grenade launcher, that's how I'll go." "I know you mean it for a joke, but it's happier I'd be for it," he said, only half-humorously.
"Still, it's the offalbirds are on the rocks the now, it's to be seeming. So go--have a good time, Chiefl" "Why, thank you, Lad," she cooed, batting her eyes. "I certainly shall." She touched the button again, and the terminal blanked.
Twenty minutes later, Ladislaus' terminal hummed once more, and he looked up from his report with a frown, for he'd left orders not to disturb him.
"Please excuse the intrusion, Mister Skjorning!" Dieter took advantage of his shock, speaking quickly to wedge a toe in the door.
"I had to call you. I have... have vitally important information for you." "Do you, now?" Ladislaus' voice was cold, but his mind raced. Under Beaufort's code, Dieter no longer existed as far as he was concernedl and he could imagine nothing they might have to discuss. Yet the Corporate Worlder had to know he would feel that way, so it followed that there was something important here--but what? "Yes. I--I don't know who else to give it to," Dieter sounded desperate, and Ladislaus suddenly noted how low-pitched his voice was. Was he afraid of being overheard? "And what's that information to be?" "B--combbf I say any more, you have to promise to keep its source confidential," Dieter said feverishly, wiping his brow.
"All right, Mister Dieter," he said. "You have my word." "Thank you, Mister Skjorning!" Dieter drooped with relief, yet now that he had Ladislaus" promise, he seemed to find it difficult to go on. Ladislaus could almost feel the painful physical effort with which he screwed up his courage.
"Mister Skjorning, ImI made a fool of myself the other night. I know it and you know it, but I swear to God I had no idea where it would lead!" "What are you talking abally' Ladislaus' brows knitted.
Could the man be drugging even now?
"I wrecked a lot of plans," Dieter said in a fast, frantic monotone. "I'm sure you know what I mean.
But I never realized just how... how desperate some of my colleagues have become! They're going to kill her, Mister Skjorning!" Dieter seemed to sag, as ff simply voicing the words lifted a great weight from his shoulders, but Ladislaus was totally at a loss for an instant. Then it penetrated.
