Innocent? Ha! Kris’s paranoid self wasn’t buying.
But why was Kris here?
13
Settled into her chair at the bargaining table, Kris put a smile on her lips, a bright look on her face…and told Nelly she was ready for a long, informative briefing.
It did turn out to be long. But informative? Maybe…if Kris could fit all the pieces together. And guess her way around a whole lot of blanks.
KRIS, EDEN NOT ONLY HAS SOME OF THE BEST ENCRYPTION INVENTED BY HUMANS AND COMPUTERS, BUT THERE ARE FIREWALLS BEHIND FIREWALLS EVERYWHERE I TURN. AND THEN THERE IS DATA THAT IS ONLY AVAILABLE OFF-LINE AND I HAVE TO PAY TO HAVE SOME HUMAN AUTHORIZE ITS RESTORATION. AND THERE IS NOT A SINGLE DATA STANDARD. THE PLACE IS ONE HUGE BABEL AS FAR AS INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL IS CONCERNED.
MOST PLANETS ORGANIZE THEIR DATA SO IT IS READILY AVAILABLE TO PEOPLE. NOT HERE. I DO NOT THINK THEY WANT ANYONE KNOWING WHAT ANYONE ELSE HAS.
Kris kept puzzlement off her face as around her the two sides talked about the cost of each unit and upgrades. Grampa Al had a standing offer of a job for Kris if she’d just resign from the Navy. He promised to keep her safe within the security cocoon he’d built for himself in Nuu Enterprise’s headquarters.
Kris made note to send Grampa Al a nice letter declining his gracious offer. And asking him if, in the future she ever did accept, to please shoot her when she showed up for work.
Surely, some space alien had eaten her brain.
But back to Nelly’s problem. It looked like the last thing anyone on Eden wanted was to share information. Kris had been raised to think of information as power. Well, Eden was doing its best to see that very few got their hands on it.
What must research be like? Kris would have to ask Gramma.
Nelly was going on at great length about the lack of any data standards. Most individual’s files on Wardhaven opened with a person’s name, date of birth, and identification number. On Eden, those might be hidden anywhere in the file. And each system assigned them different locations.
AND YOU HAVE TO CRACK EACH SYSTEM. EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM!
THERE HAS TO BE A DATA DICTIONARY OF SOME SORT, Kris thought.
OH, THERE IS, Nelly agreed. OFF-LINE OR OFF SOMEWHERE UNDER GOD ONLY KNOWS WHAT TITLE. KRIS, THESE PEOPLE ARE PARANOID. AND SCHIZOPHRENIC. THEY ARE ALL CRAZY. LIKE IN THE BOOKS.
Nelly, of course, had access to all the medical books on Wardhaven, but those weren’t the ones she meant. Lately, Kris’s computer was analyzing all the action, suspense, and murder fiction she could get. Nelly was curious about the human experience of fear. She blamed it on the penchant Kris had for so often getting them almost killed.
IF YOU ARE GOING TO KILL US ALL, I NEED SOME EARLY WARNING. SOME SENSE THAT WE ARE IN FOR TROUBLE. JACK AND PENNY KNOW IT IS COMING. THEY HAVE FEAR. ALL I HAVE IS MY OWN DATA FORECAST. I NEED SOMETHING BETTER.
So Kris put up with dreams of being chased and mass murders and some really ugly stuff until she demanded that Nelly buffer her nighttime studies better, and those nightmares had stopped.
To be replaced by the usual ones of being chased and people trying to kill her. Or visits from those people who had followed her orders into an early grave.
Kris shivered, something definitely not called for at the bargaining table. “Anyone else cold?” she asked. No one was.
Kris paid attention to the conversation for a while, then went back to Nelly. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE MEDIA? SOMEONE HAS TO KNOW WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON. YOU CAN’T FOOL ALL OF THE PEOPLE ALL OF THE TIME, Kris said, quoting the prime minister quoting someone.
THERE IS A MEDIA, BUT WHAT PASSES FOR MAINSTREAM REPORTING DOES NOT SEEM ALL THAT RELIABLE. NOT IF WE USE OUR OWN OBSERVATIONS. I AM NOW RIDING THE EMBASSY’S SUBSCRIPTION. IT IS AN INTERESTING EXERCISE IN WHAT I SUSPECT YOU WOULD CALL FRUSTRATION. NOT ONLY DID THEY HAVE NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT OUR TWO KNOWN INCIDENTS, BUT THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT ANY POLITICAL ACTS OF PROTEST. YES, THERE WERE THE ODD FAMILY DISTURBANCES, PEOPLE GOT CUT UP IN BARS, THEIR KITCHEN, EVEN AT SCHOOL, BUT NO GUNS. NO BOMBS.
AND SOMETHING I FOUND VERY INTERESTING WAS THE WAY THE NEWS DISAPPEARED.
INTO ARCHIVES? Kris asked.
SOME ARTICLES DID GO INTO ARCHIVES YOU COULD REACH…FOR AN EXTRA SUBSCRIPTION…WHICH OUR EMBASSY HAS. BUT THERE WOULD BE NEW POLICIES ANNOUNCED AND WHEN I WENT LOOKING FOR THE OLD POLICIES, THERE WAS NOTHING IN THE ARCHIVE. I FOUND REFERENCES TO EARLIER SPEECHES IN STORIES, BUT NO SPEECHES OR EVENTS. NO NOTHING. THE DATA STORAGE IS LARGE ENOUGH FOR A WHOLE LOT MORE DATA. AND IT’S THERE. THEY JUST WILL NOT LET ME GET AT IT. KRIS, I DO NOT LIKE TO FAIL ON MATTERS LIKE THIS. Nelly almost spat in Kris’s head.
Kris squelched a chuckle that didn’t fit into the present bargaining. Nelly did not have a lot of experience with failure. It would be interesting to see how the present state of her computer’s upgrade dealt with this. WHAT ABOUT THOSE OTHER NEWS SOURCES? THE ONES LIEUTENANT MARTINEZ AND GRAMMA RUTH MENTIONED.
THE EMBASSY DOES NOT SUBSCRIBE TO THEM, Nelly started. I USED PENNY’S ACCOUNT TO SUBSCRIBE TO BOTH, THEN JACK’S TO SUBSCRIBE TO TWO MORE OF THOSE MENTIONED. THE SUBS WERE NOT CHEAP. I REPAID THEM FROM YOUR ACCOUNT.
THEY REPORTED BOTH EVENTS WE SAW, BUT NOT ALL THAT MUCH. THEY KNEW A BOMB EXPLODED ON THE MALL, BUT NOTHING ABOUT A MOTORCADE. THEY REPORTED SHOTS FIRED IN THE GOVERNMENT DISTRICT, PROBABLY AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. THEY HAD NO BODY COUNT. I WAS TEMPTED TO FILE A REPORT, KRIS. THEY PAY MONEY FOR NEWS.
HAVING ONE REPORTER IN OUR GROUP, NELLY, IS ENOUGH, Kris said. If Nelly took to selling information along with Abby, Kris would have no hope of privacy.
The negotiations were getting close; Kris asked Nelly to keep any more for later. Still, as Kris paid more attention to the table, her mind gnawed at what her computer had learned.
It wasn’t much. Just enough to give Kris a strong hunch that something was rotten in Eden. Still, using the old religious story as a hook to hang things on, she had no idea who the snake might be. No idea even where the tree might hang out. She didn’t even know who was filling the shoes—or bare feet—of the guy and gal.
Before too long, Kris called a halt for lunch and took her mulling elsewhere.
Maybe Gramma Ruth did know what her orders were. Absent that, Kris knew she could count on the old woman for some fun talk…and maybe a few more pieces to add to the puzzle laid out on Eden for Kris. Maybe.
14
Kris did not find a limo waiting to take her to lunch. Instead, three black, hulking, all-terrain city vehicles were parked under the portico of the embassy. Jack joined her, in dress khaki and blues, and flipped a coin.
“Heads,” he said. “You ride in the middle one.”
“And if it had been tails?”
“I’d have flipped it again to see if you rode in the lead or trailing rig,” Jack said, opening the door for her. Penny was already in the far seat, next to the window.
It looked like Jack intended to take the other window seat, leaving her no place but the center one. “You sure I need all this protection?”
“Don’t know, Your Highness. But I’m sure that when we get in trouble again, neither one of us will figure you have enough.”
Kris sat where Jack pointed. In front were three Marines, all in dress khaki and blues. “How big is my detail?”
“Fifteen, plus us,” Penny said. “There also will be an escort from Eden, but they intend to stay back.”
“Out of the line of fire,” Kris muttered, maybe a split second behind Jack.
“I’ve got sniper teams in both of the other rigs. They’ll go high if things get mortal. Oh, and two women to escort you to the head. Want anything else?”
“Yes, a weapons permit to make this all legal.”
“Wish in one hand, spit in the other,” Penny said with a quirk of a smile, “and see which one you get the most out of.”
“Your grandmother?” Kris asked.
“No, one of Tommy’s,” Penny said with hardly a flinch.
The co
nvoy was only a few minutes away from the campus when Nelly said, “Kris, I have a call from Great-grandmother Ruth.”
“Put her on.”
“Kris, I got out of class a bit late, could you pick me up at the back of the Faculty Center?”
“I’d be glad to, Gramma. Where do you want us?”
A map appeared in the air in front of Kris, a green blip on it. A moment later it was repeated on the heads-up display in front of the driver.
“I got it, Your Highness. We’ll have to drive around the campus, but no problem.”
“We’ll see you there,” Kris said.
And the green blip was suddenly no longer on the map.
“She throttled her squawker!” Nelly said as she pulled the map from the air in front of Kris. “Civilians aren’t supposed to be able to do that,” she sniffed.
“Possibly, Commander Tordon has kept her reserve commission on the books,” Jack said. “But living close to Longknifes, I suspect she’s just paid for more security than the average head-in-the-sand civilian feels a need for. And has her head on straight enough to use it whenever she gets too close to a Longknife. Might explain why she’s still got that head.”
Kris found nothing to argue with.
The rigs zigged and zagged around a campus that looked very familiar to Kris. In the center of things were a few brick buildings, maybe one or two with pretentious stone pillars. The next layer out showed a more prosperous planet as granite and stone replaced brick in someone’s idea of a neoclassical style. But the population kept growing and money started getting short. The outer layers of classrooms and labs were shoehorned into big, blocky buildings rising not so high that they required more expensive construction materials, nor so low that they took up too much land that was getting expensive. The history of education was writ the same on hundreds of planets.
If Kris smiled at the sameness of the buildings, she almost laughed at the students, products of some cookie-cutter mold kept handy on every planet. The rigs’ advance slowed, surrounded by a mob of hungry college students who, though afoot, showed no fear of cars and a near proprietary attitude toward the streets.
“For God’s sake, don’t hit one,” Kris said after a close near encounter with a jaywalking pair of redheads.
“I’m doing my best,” Kris’s driver said, tapping the brake as two coeds ducked between her and the lead car.
It was a good thing they were going slow, because they found Gramma Ruth waving at them a full two blocks early.
Jack said a bad word, usually reserved for only the worst of situations. Only this time, it oozed admiration. “She is one smart cookie.”
Jack opened the door and pulled down a jump seat for himself. Ruth settled in next to Kris. Jack called over his shoulder, “Take the next right and get us out of this mob.”
“They don’t have the common sense God promised a gnat,” Ruth said. “I know. I love them and I’m proud of the ones that actually do learn. But even the ones that can learn smarts may have no concept of what they should do for personal safety.
“The peace has been wonderful, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s been too long,” Gramma added, putting on her safety belt.
“Now that we’re headed away from the campus,” Kris asked, “where do we eat?”
“Oh, I know just the place. It’s about six blocks down the way, then four to the right.” Ruth held up her wrist and squirted something to the driver’s computer.
“Got it,” she immediately said.
“Do we have reservations?” Jack asked.
“That’s what I like about this place. They serve the best Greek food in light-years, and never require a reservation. Oh, and they have separate rooms for those willing to pay extra. You’ll like it,” she said, giving Jack a wide, knowing grin.
“Kris, I’m starting to think at least some of your relatives can acquire common sense. If they live long enough,” Jack said.
“Ah, but remember, I married into this mess. I’m a farmer’s daughter,” Gramma Ruth said, patting down her gray hairs. “I learned common sense at my mother’s knee and my father’s worried brow. You spend a few years wondering when it’s going to rain and if you’ll be able to pay the mortgage on the place, and you’ll know what matters and what doesn’t.”
“You can’t have all that much common sense,” Kris snorted, not at all liking the way Jack was fawning over this smart old lady. “She’s met twice in the last twenty-four hours with a Longknife. Very risky business, I’d say, for an unarmed, unescorted little old lady.”
“Who said I’m unarmed,” Ruth snapped, and produced a very ladylike, and very dangerous-looking, automatic. It disappeared so fast that Jack didn’t have a chance to raise an objection. Or for Kris to see where Gramma had it hiding.
“And didn’t you see those two fine, young kids back there, keeping an eye out for me. Fine bodyguards they are.”
“Hold it,” Jack said, now getting a hand up.
“How’d you get your hands on a gun?” Kris said. “And where did you get a bodyguard?”
“I hired them,” Gramma Ruth said very matter-of-factly.
“How?” Kris, Jack, Penny…and Nelly asked at once.
“From the guild hall, of course,” Gramma answered.
“What guild hall?” Nelly demanded. “I searched the yellow database for armed escorts, bodyguards, security teams. Every title any sensible planet would use. There is no such thing.”
“I even asked the ambassador,” Kris added.
“You don’t know,” Gramma Ruth said, eyeing Kris, then Jack.
He shook his head.
She frowned. “When I learned you were coming, I mentioned to several of my friends on campus that I was excited to see you again. Next day, Dean Rosemon, head of graduate studies, an old fart from one of the oldest families on Eden, took me aside. He suggested I might want to see to my security, what with the bad blood between certain families and you Longknifes.
“I, of course, remarked of my surprise, seeing how Eden was so peaceful. Peaceful my eyeteeth. I know this place is seething under the surface. Every time I’m invited back, I’m surprised it’s still here. Anyway, despite my most unladylike goading, all Herman Rosemon provided me with was a number for a consulting service.”
Gramma Ruth shrugged. “I called the number. A very nice young man came by, looked at my daily schedule and my apartment. Two days later, just before you arrived, these two, hunky young men joined me for my walk to school, and they, or others like them have been with me every day since. I’m told the apartment is covered at night, but I’ve never met them.”
“And your weapon?” Jack asked.
“Comes with the service, or so I’m told.”
“Why weren’t we told?” Kris demanded. “Better yet, why couldn’t we even turn up a hint that this guild hall exists?”
Gramma Ruth chuckled. “Honey, haven’t you figured it out? Eden presents one face to the universe, and saves its very ugly back side for locals and visitors who notice.”
“So I’m finding out,” Kris muttered.
“Any chance you could give us the number of that guild hall?” Jack asked, practical as always.
Ruth looked at the front seat, then glanced over her shoulder at the following rig. “You thinking of trading in your Marines for local hires?”
No way would Kris trust some local to take his pay and take her bullet. She wanted her Marines in reach.
Jack wasn’t so sure. “They might have a better sense of this territory. God only knows we’re way too much in the dark.”
“But could you trust someone who’s only here for the paycheck to not take a bigger paycheck to look the other way?” Kris said. Abby was one question mark. How many question marks could she afford to have around her.
“Hey, Marine, up there,” Gramma Ruth called. “What’s your price to sell out this barbarian princess from the Rim?”
“This fu—ah, planet,” the sergeant said, struggling to clean
up his language out of respect for the gray hairs in the backseat, “don’t have enough money to buy a Marine, ma’am.”
Gramma’s answer was obscene and pure Corps. “How well I know that Marines don’t sell out. I fought pirates and Iteeche with you hardcases, and never found one I wouldn’t share a beer or a fighting hole with.”
“Ruth?” the sergeant said. “Gramma Ruth? You aren’t that Ruth, are you?”
“The Ruth that married General Trouble. Only then he was just a lieutenant. Though I can’t say he was that much less trouble. Yes, Marine, I am that selfsame fool. Glad to make your acquaintance.”
“Honored to make yours, ma’am.” If possible, the Marines in front suddenly were sitting at an even stiffer attention.
“We got General Trouble’s wife on board, here,” the driver whispered into her mike. “Look sharp.”
Kris laughed. “I’m just a princess. You, Gramma, are a legend.”
“Not a legend, Kris, just a survivor. And a carcass no Marine wants to have to explain letting get suddenly dead to my esteemed and utterly worthless husband. Am I right, Sergeant?”
“I’d have to express some reservations about that worthless part, ma’am.”
“Don’t you line beasts still consider anyone above field grade as useless as tits on a boar hog?”
“Not in the presence of his wife, ma’am.” But he was grinning. A stiff thing, he was still very much at attention.
“If I may interrupt,” Jack said. “Do you think we might hire from the guild hall to give our weapons some veneer of legality? We could at least listen to them before we ignore their advice.”
“I’m not sure I want some stranger fully briefed on my scheduled whereabouts,” Kris said. “Gramma, did your escort hear you make your lunch appointment.”
“Both times,” she said, a growing smile on her face.
“And you didn’t keep either,” Kris said.
Gramma Ruth turned her smile loose on Jack. “You can say a lot about my bloodline, but you got to agree, boy, they do learn fast.”
Kris Longknife Audacious Page 7
