Oath of Fealty

by Larry Niven

  23,567,892 BYTES

  "Good Lord. Art, that will take hours to print out-"

  "Yeah, that gives the cops a hobby. Now what is it Rand wants? Delores? He's got her-"

  "No, no, Delores won't go. But that's not his primary want anyway. Come on, use your head."

  "Oh I" Bonner grinned. "All right, Tony, why the sudden interest in trips to Africa?" He watched, amused, as Rand tried to keep a poker face.

  "Well, I always did get along with Pres, and-"

  "But you could be talked into going to Canada?"

  "Well, yes, but it would be expensive. I want-"

  "Oh, never mind, Tony," Bonner said wickedly. He made his voice sound resigned. "We'll lose money on the Canadian deal, but if you really want to go to Africa, well, we owe you, and-"

  Whatever Rand was going to say was drowned out by Barbara's laughter.

  "Art, you are really cruel."

  "Maybe once in a while." "Tony, it's going to cost you."

  Rand looked wary. "What's going to cost me?"

  "The implant. That's what you're holding out for, isn't it? Jesus, I never saw a worse negotiator. Fortunately, your interest is our interest ... "

  Rand looked more wary than ever.

  "Of course we'll want an exclusive contract for your services, with veto power over any outside jobs and the right to reassign you at our convenience-"

  "Yipe. That's slavery!" Rand protested.

  "Yup. We'll also want you here part of the time. Not in person, of course, but we'll let you roam around Todos Santos by robot, and set up regular holographic conferences, with us and with your replacement."

  "What do you intend to do, work me to death?"

  "Not quite. Of course you always have the option of quitting on half pay-you won't be able to work for anyone else, but half what we pay you is plenty."

  "So what's to keep me from taking your implant and your money and going off to grow petunias?"

  "We'll chance it." "About as much chance of that as I have of turning into a werewolf. Keep him idle for six months and he'd be a raving maniac."

  "There are those who say he-skip it." "That's settled, then," Barbara said. "Smile, Tony, you win. You'll get your implant." She paused. "You don't look very happy about it."

  "No, no, that's fine." But Tony still wasn't smiling.

  "For a man who's about to go off alone, he really is putting a good face on disaster."

  "Yeah. Too good. I don't like it."

  "There is a problem with this," Barbara said. "You won't be able to come back to the States. Not for a while, anyway. You might have difficulty seeing your son."

  "It isn't Zach he's going to miss, it's getting laid regularly."

  "Both, I'd say. And don't be narsty." "Is there a chance Genevieve might be persuaded to go with you?"

  Rand shook his head violently. "Why would she do that? There won't be any high-status place like Todos Santos in Canada. Not till I build it!"

  "Which is just the point," Barbara said. "If she'd come with you, you'd know it's because she believes in you. It wouldn't be just for the status. She'd earn her way, just as you will-"

  "Aren't you laying it on thick?"

  "With Rand? You can't lay it on too thick. Look at his face. We've got him."

  "But will Genevieve believe any of that?"

  "Who cares? So long as she'll go. And I think she will. From everything I've heard, she's pretty sharp."

  "Why do you want Genevieve to go with him anyway, pet?"

  "Come on, haven't you seen him when he talks about her? He's still in love with her. Delores knows, everyone else knows, except maybe Tony."

  "I liked seeing Tony happy, and he was for the few days he had Delores."

  "He'd be happy with Genevieve. Believe me."

  "She'd never do it," Tony said.

  "You'll never know until you ask her."

  "How do I ask her? The cops will be watching her all the time. Probably have her phone tapped."

  Barbara nodded. "That's true. But I can talk to her for you, Tony. Find out what she thinks. If it sounds good I'll bring her here. They'll never be able to follow me inside Todos Santos!"

  I AM PRINTING THE REQUESTED FILES.

  You will not answer any other requests from the police until that printout is completed.

  ACKNOWLEDGED. THE POLICE ARE NOW ENTERING YOUR MAIN OFFICE. SANDRA WYATT IS WITH THEM.

  "I'd appreciate that, Barbara," Tony said. "I-I guess I really would like it if Djinn came with me. Not that I think she will."

  "We'll see."

  "BOSS THIS IS SANDRA. I'M TALKING INTO A HUSH PHONE. THERE'S NO WAY YOU CAN ANSWER ME. THE COPS HAVE BROUGHT ALICE STRAHLER UP HERE. THEY'RE TRYING TO TALK HER INTO GUIDING THEIR SEARCH. THEY'RE PROMISING HER IMMUNITY. HAVE MILLIE BLINK YOUR OFFICE LIGHTS IF YOU UNDERSTAND."

  "Holy shit," Bonner said aloud. "MILLIE, blink my office lights. Tony, they've brought Alice here. Can she help them find anything in MILLIE that we don't want them to know?"

  "Maybe," Rand said. "We did all the obvious things-"

  "I did a few that weren't so obvious," Bonner said. "Such as erasing your access logs, and taking your name off all the accession records for the City Hall and County Jail plans and such."

  "But we still could have missed something," Rand said.

  "What?"

  "If we knew, we wouldn't have missed it," Barbara said impatiently.

  "And we probably did miss something," Rand said. "No way we could be sure. And - well, Alice could have hidden a few files herself."

  "She didn't know about anything illegal, did she?" Bonner demanded.

  "No, but she might embarrass us."

  "Meanwhile, the economic harassments continue," Barbara said. "That strike can hurt us-"

  "It's already hurting us," Bonner said.

  "Right. So." Barbara stood suddenly. "Art, it's time to call off this war. I think we should have a peace conference."

  "Think we're ready?"

  "We can get ready."

  More data whispered against his mastoid bone. "Holy cow. Sweetheart, you're a mean broad."

  "Economic warfare is my specialty." "So," she said. "You call MacLean Stevens and invite him to bring Councilman Planchet out. Tony, we'll have an hour or so to talk. How would Todos Santos go about putting pressure on Los Angeles?"

  * * *

  Art Bonner looked at the wreckage of his office and cursed. The place was a mess, with holes in the wall, chipped plaster, ripped upholstery; there were books scattered everywhere.

  "I tried to get it cleaned up," Delores said. She spat. "Cops! I can get the worst taken care of before your appointment-"

  "Leave it," Bonner said. "The main thing is to be sure their bugs are gone and our cameras are working."

  "We did that first off," Delores said. "Of course that made some of the mess-"

  "It's all right." Art sat behind his desk and looked at the readout screens. "Tony, you there?"

  SURE AM. The letters flowed across one desk console screen. VISUAL AND AUDIO PICKUPS WORKING FINE.

  "Good."

  MACLEAN STEVENS AND COUNCILMAN PLANCHET HAVE ARRIVED AT THE SOUTHEAST HELIPORT.

  Thank you. Link to Barbara Churchward. "You there, sweetheart?"

  "Right here. Tony had some ideas too."

  "This is it, kids. Payoff time."

  Big Jim Planchet held his lips to a tight line as he entered the big office. It was here, he thought. Right here. They gave the orders and my boy died. Right here.

  He followed MacLean Stevens in, not really hearing the introductions and greetings, not seeing anything at first. Then he looked around, seeing the destruction. Holes in the walls and ceiling. Books thrown to the floor, covered with plaster dust, then walked on. Some of them looked to be expensive books, art volumes. Furniture had been ripped open, rugs slashed.

  "Your cops were thorough enough," Bonner said. "They didn't find anything, but then I doubt they expected to."

  "Not m
y cops," Stevens answered. "Sheriff's people, not mine."

  "Balls. You could call them off anytime you wanted," Bonner said.

  "You lost an office. I lost a son," Planchet said coldly.

  "I'm sorry about your son," Bonner said. "If we'd known any way to save him, we would have, but he was just too damned convincing! We were betrayed ourselves. Alice Strahler-the one who told Renn how to get your kid in here? The Sheriff's men were talking about giving her immunity."

  Planchet started to say something, but held back.

  "If you'd been a bit more cooperative, I doubt the deputies would have trashed your office," Stevens said.

  "Cooperative how?"

  "That goddam computer, printing out page after page of TV show ratings!"

  "They asked for it," Bonner said. "I can't help it if you've got a bunch of stupid cops trying to talk to a smart computer."

  "Look, Bonner, this isn't a game," Planchet said.

  "I couldn't agree more," Bonner said. "So. Shall we be serious? If you want a drink I can send for anything you'd like. My delivery system got broken this afternoon when one of your cretins thought he'd found the secret compartment we hide engineers in."

  "That's serious?" Stevens asked.

  Bonner couldn't help it. He laughed. "The cop sure thought it was. You should have seen him, with his head stuck in the conveyor, which picked just that time to deliver a royal gin fizz ... "

  That got a grin from Stevens. "We'll pass the drinks for the moment. All right, you called the conference. Your turn."

  "Sure," Bonner said. "I want to negotiate a peace settlement."

  "No deal without Sanders and Rand," Planchet said.

  "Then no deals at all," Bonner said. "Sorry to have wasted your time, gentlemen." He stood up. "I'll get you an escort back to your helicopter."

  "Hell, we just got here," Stevens said. He looked at Planchet. "You know damned well they're not going to turn Sanders over to us."

  "Then we hurt them until they do," Planchet said. "You think the strike hurts now? Wait 'till we have a real strike. Nothing will go in or out of this building. Nothing."

  "Sure," Bonner said. "And we counter with a boycott. Miss Churchward starts making purchases from San Francisco. We bring it by ship and land it in Long Beach. It will be the best thing that ever happened to the west coast merchant marine, but Los Angeles won't make much out of it.

  "Then there are our waldo operators. They've elected a spokesman." Bonner touched a switch on his desk console.

  Armand Drinkwater's apartment appeared on the screen. Drinkwater sat idly, his tools neatly stowed away. "Just can't work this way," he said. "How can I work when an Angelino cop could break in my door anytime he wants to? I'm used to knowing who's going to visit me. The rest of us all feel the same way."

  Stevens nodded grimly, and he and Planchet exchanged glances.

  Aha, Bonner thought. They've already heard about that one. Wonder who called? Might be the Secretary of State. Those medical gizmos Drinkwater was making were pretty important, and the orbital work even more so. So let's rub it in ... He touched buttons.

  Rachael Lief came onto the screen. Behind her, in her screen, was a lunar landscape complete with irate astronaut. "I can't tell you when I can get back to work," Rachael said. "When things are settled here. You could get someone else-"

  The astronaut cursed again. Bonner cut him off and looked expectantly at Planchet. Your move, Bonner's look said.

  "How are shipments going to get here from Long Beach?" Planchet demanded. "I told you, we'll see that nothing comes in or out-"

  "Not even food?" Bonner asked innocently. "I'm not certain, but I think the Constitution prevents U.S. cities from making war on each other. If you let people starve to death in here, it will get on national television. Are you going to stop food from coming in?"

  "Don't be silly," Stevens said.

  "Me, silly? Come on, now, who was it threatened to leave us besieged in the castle? You're more medieval than we are. Private wars, yet."

  "Damn you, this is no joke!" Planchet shouted.

  "And just to be sure you understand that-" Bonner's hand hesitated above the keyboard, then withdrew. "Councilman, I've already told you we regret what happened. You can't possibly believe we wanted to kill innocent kids-and you've seen all the warnings we gave, the signs those kids went past, the locked doors they went through. You're an intelligent man. You know damned well there wasn't another thing we could have done. And either you or Stevens would have done the same thing if you'd been sitting in Preston Sanders's chair, too!"

  Bonner paused for a moment. "You don't have to respond to that. But think about it. While you're thinking, let me show you another one."

  The TV screen showed the iceberg resting in Santa Monica Bay. "This goes with it," Bonner said. He took a Xerox from his desk and handed it to Stevens. "That gives me operational control of all Romulus assets in the southwest. Including the power plants in Baja. Also the iceberg. Now watch closely. Are you watching?" MILLIE: are the skiers all evacuated from the iceberg?

  YES.

  Have Rand do Phase One of Fimbulwinter.

  Nothing happened for a moment. Then the floating plastic liner which trapped melted icewater and kept it separated from the salt water of the Bay rippled along its entire length. The iceberg itself seemed to move, slowly, majestically. On the windward side of the berg, thousands of gallons of salt water slopped in.

  "Hey, for God's sake!" Planchet protested.

  "So far your constituents can drink brackish water," Bonner said. "I don't expect they'll like it much, but it won't hurt them. Would you like to try for straight salt water?"

  "You need that water as much as we do," Stevens said.

  "Watch again," Bonner said.

  The TV screen shifted to a personable young lady. The legend underneath said "Sandra Wyatt, Deputy General Manager." A male voice-over said "We interrupt regularly scheduled programming for an important announcement."

  "This is a Stage Two water conservation notice," Wyatt said. "We have reason to believe that the city of Los Angeles may interfere with our water supplies. As you all know, we have large internal storage systems, all of which are full. It will be inconvenient, but we shouldn't have any real problems if everyone does their share. The Stage Two water conservation plan imposes the following restrictions. All residents will immediately-"

  The screen went back to a view of the iceberg, which was still in motion but no longer shipping water into the plastic liner. "Want to bet your people will conserve better than mine?" Bonner asked. "You won't run out of drinking water, but you'll shut down more industries than I will. .

  "I can get an injunction," Planchet protested.

  Bonner laughed. "Go ahead. There's the phone. With luck you might get a court order in the next hour. We won't even oppose it-,'

  MILLIE, I want about half that much water sloppage again.

  "Are you watching? Incidentally, my chief engineer tells-uh, excuse me, told me that it takes three full days to flush the system once it's been thoroughly contaminated with salt. That's assuming our people do it. Doing it without the computer and using outside work crews can take from two weeks to forever, depending. Just thought you'd like to know."

  That got to them, Bonner thought. "Of course, you could go back to pumping water from the Owens Valley and the Sacramento Delta," Art said. "You might have some trouble from the Fromates though. Didn't they dynamite your aqueduct once?"

  Still no answer.

  Data rippled into his mind. He grinned. "Now here's something interesting. There's a large shipload of cement about to leave Portland, Oregon. Romulus bought it to send up to Prudhoe Bay, but Barbara has authority to divert it for our use. We were just about to put in an order with a local outfit, but if we're under local siege I'll want to assure my supplies."

  "That'll cost you a lot," Stevens observed.

  "Not so very much. We got the cement at a good price." He cocked his head to
one side and looked thoughtful. "Actually, we might even save money."

  Planchet turned to Stevens. "Do you believe that?"