Now. Not so good.
Rita gave Sandy a nod, then strode to the end of the table on Sandy’s right and settled into the chair. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers meshed together loosely in front of her. Her body was still, but it was the stillness of a tightly wound spring. Her face – well, an Iteeche invasion force had died before that face.
Behind her came Ada, the First Minister of the Alwa Colonial government. It was her job now to keep things running smoothly among the human Colonials. Clearly, from the grimace on her face, she counted responsibility for the present imbroglio as partially hers.
Sandy didn’t doubt that one bit. How could she have allowed something as important as a vague clause to slip into a Viceroy’s Warrant without her notice!
Ada glanced at the two chairs left at the table. Sandy raised a finger ever so slightly to point at the chair directly across from her. The head of government blanched, but she took the chair allotted for her.
The last civilian to enter Sandy’s court of inquiry was a tall, black-haired woman of chocolate complexion. She didn’t so much as glance around at the set up and view. She, like Penny, had one of Nelly’s children for a computer. She also had spent the last five years or so bouncing around space at Kris Longknife’s elbow – and lived to tell the tales.
Abby Nightingale was nobody’s fool. So, how had she come to this? No doubt, Sandy would know soon enough.
Abby gave Sandy a formal nod, then headed for her place, the last remaining chair, the one at the opposite end of the table from Rita. She also settled into the chair, but unlike Rita, she relaxed comfortably into it. The former maid even allowed herself to gawk at the room.
Sandy hoped all of these culprits were getting a good look at where they were.
3
With hard eyes, Sandy took the measure of the room. When the chief closed the non-air tight door behind herself, it vanished and the scenery became complete. They were seated under a dome of stars. Down, however, was not quite down.
Off against one wall, part of the orb of Alwa showed. Up in the firmament, Alwa’s one large moon glowed. If anyone was subject to vertigo, this canting of visual “down” by twenty degrees from the actual down the station provided, would be terror inducing.
“Fancy digs you got here, Admiral,” Abby said. “I never did see a better show on old Earth among any of the wealthy biddies I was in service to.”
Sandy squelched even the hint of a smile at Abby’s gambit. The product of New Eden slums did like to remind people of her lowly origins. Smart people realized that it took one hell of a lot of moxie to climb from there to here. Those that weren’t – didn’t stay in the game very long.
“I made the mistake of telling Penny to let Mimzy surprise me,” Sandy lied. “I think Nelly’s kids are developing vanity.”
“We just enjoy a job well done, and maybe a bit of artistry,” Mimzy sniffed from where Penny wore her at her neck.
“Well, this job was not well done,” Sandy said, riffing off of Mimzy’s proud brag. “Ms. Rita Nuu Longknife, would you care to explain this?” Sandy used two fingers at the corner of the fancy decree to shove it away, much like one might do to something a cat left behind.
Rita didn’t move so much as a muscle, but Sandy had the distinct feeling that a very wound spring had just been sprung.
“As you are no doubt aware,” Rita began softly, like velvet over steel, “nearly fifty percent of the production capacity that came out from human space was provided by Nuu Enterprises. While Kris Longknife was here to provide, shall we say, adult supervision, that entire industrial base was devoted to meeting the needs of the common good, be that building more battlecruisers or providing the consumer goods that both Alwans and the Colonials needed to assure their prosperity and cooperation.”
Rita paused to eye Sandy. Clearly, she wanted an acknowledgment. Sandy refused to so much as blink.
“Unfortunately, my spoiled brat of a first born, little Alexander, operates under the illusion that he controls the Nuu Enterprise property in the Alwa System. Aboard one of the merchant ships you convoyed out here, were six managers that he had chosen to take over his property and assure that it made a profit for him.”
Rita paused for dramatic effect.
“Of course, we all reached the conclusion long ago that there is no way to make a profit here. What with no money supply, it’s hard to even measure success.”
That got general scowls from all the old Alwa hands. Sandy kept her face as locked down solid as that Sphinx monument on old Earth.
“Unfortunately, those six men had orders to extract the one item on Alwa that could be transported back to human space to make a monestrous fortune for Al and his stock holders. An item that I will not name.”
Here, Rita paused to glance around the table.
Sandy did permit herself a grimace this time. “I believe everyone here at this table knows the bit of vegetation you’re talking about. We also know they intended to strip mine it out of every stream it grows in and likely drive it to extinction. I believe Kris Longknife took care of that problem most effectively,” Sandy concluded. She had no time to waste on ancient history.
“Yes, Kris solved the problem this time,” Rita said, “but what about next time, or the time after that? So long as the money grubbing plutocrats back in human space think that they have their claws in us – think that we’re vulnerable to their machinations – we are at risk.”
Rita shook her head curtly. “I saw the opportunity to remove that risk and I took it. I’ve issued the decree on the authority granted to me and I will not revoke that nationalization.”
“But we don’t trust you, Rita,” Ada snapped, jumping in.
“You’re out of order,” Sandy said firmly. “I control the floor here. What I would like to hear from you is how the Downside Viceroy ended up thinking she had the authority to seize control of all the means of production in orbit, on the moon, or out in the asteroid belt?”
The bureaucrat rubbed her face with the palms of both hands. “I don’t know. I didn’t know when we voted the Viceroy Warrants to the both of you. I didn’t know when Abby brought that damn decree to my attention, and, after a whole lot of good people wracking our brains, we still don’t know how Rita snookered us.”
Now it was Ada’s turn to push something across the table. Sandy had made sure that Mimzy knew why major negotiations took place around an extra-long and extra wide table that kept the parties well apart. She hadn’t turned the computer loose until she’d shown Sandy several examples of tables where hard bargaining had taken place. Sandy had picked the one for Mimzy to create.
And yes, nothing about the room Sandy was using for these hearings had been left to chance or for a computer’s learning experience. The design had come quickly. What had taken a lot more time was persuading Mimzy that a certain amount of fiction was good for humans and it was not lying to play along with Penny and her boss.
Computers! Sandy had a love/hate relationship with computers in general and Nelly’s kids in specifics. She both loved what they could do and hated them at the same time.
Ada didn’t quite get the two large, thick sheets of parchment to the middle of the table. Penny, being taller, was able to reach further, or maybe Mimzy narrowed the table for a second. By whatever the means, Sandy found herself staring at a Warrant that was not quite as fancy as the Nationalization Decree.
“There is one section in there,” Ada said. “It’s got a red arrow next to it. You know, like lawyers use to make sure you sign everywhere you need to. It’s buried in the section that establishes her delegation of authority. It says about what we all remember negotiating and then there is something none of us remember talking about at all.”
Sandy had never met Ada face to face before. At the moment, she seemed to have developed a motor mouth that was not impressive. However, this certainly was a messed-up situation. Maybe their next meeting would go smoother.
“I see the section y
ou’ve marked,” Grand Admiral Santiago said, using the full force of her office to cut off further unnecessary explanations. “The one that’s tagged on to a long sentence and adds, ‘concerning all matter involving colonials and their abode.’ Is that the hole you drove a maglev train through, Rita?”
“Yes, Admiral,” the old warrior said, her words bitten off hard.
“You didn’t bother negotiating that phrase, but slipped it in at the last minute?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Were you intentionally setting up this situation?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“You know, I don’t think anyone will trust you after this. Certainly not me.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
Sandy had had enough of this “Yes, Admiral.” She leaned forward. “Why?” she demanded.
Rita didn’t even pause to think. Clearly, she’d prepared for this moment.
“It was worth everything I’ve done in my life to issue this decree and make my people safe, Admiral. So long as human space back there has its claws in us, we are at risk. It’s bad enough knowing we may have to fight murderous aliens for our lives at the drop of a hat. It is unconscionable that penny ante tin gods on the other side of the galaxy could strip us of our ability to defend ourselves when they have no skin in this game. I had a chance to cut them out of our lives. I did it, and I’d do it again.”
“Kris Longknife handled this problem just fine,” Sandy pointed out.
“Kris isn’t here anymore. Who of us around this table could have stopped them on our own authority? It is their ‘property’ and everything in human rule of law protects their right to their ‘property.’ I do not choose to have the lives of my family, and the other families I worked so hard to preserve, subject to the whim of some industrial robber baron on the other side of the galaxy.”
Sandy considered the old woman’s argument. It did have force to sway her. She was not at all sure that even the power of a grand admiral could be extended to locking up those six in her brig and shipping them back to human space. What would she do if Alex Longknife did this again?
Still.
“Rita,” Sandy finally said, “I hear your good intentions, but we’re both old enough to know where that pavement leads us.” Sandy eyed Rita. The old Commodore let out a long breath, but she did not break eye contact with the grand admiral.
“I also suspect that your warrant for Downside Viceroy will be revoked as soon as Ada can get her Senate back in session.”
“You bet we will,” Ada interrupted.
Sandy gave Ada the Look. The bureaucrat did not quake in her boots, but she did lean back in her chair. “Just saying,” she added softly.
“It won’t matter none,” Rita said.
Sandy’s head swung around to face the Commodore. Now she gave her the Look.
“It won’t,” Rita repeated, too used to giving the Look to cringe before it. “I’ve given the Colonials the keys to the candy store. It don’t matter one whit who they elect in my place, they won’t revoke my Nationalization Decree. That much power over that many goodies just isn’t something you turn your back on and walk away from. Face it, folks. I’ve opened Pandora’s box. You may not like all the little gremlins I let out, but there is no way you’re going to put them back in that box again.”
Sandy did not like the finality in Rita’s voice. She also didn’t like the hint of smugness that colored it. Still, it didn’t matter. All the King’s horses were not going to put this Humpty Dumpty back together again.”
“I think the workers might have a few things to say about that,” Abby drawled from the other end of the table. She had sat quietly and relaxed while Rita got in her say so.
“You’ll pardon me for tossing this hand grenade into your so polite conversation, but the folks that work those machines feel a strong need to have a say so in what happens to them. Besides, it ain’t like you can hire no scabs to fill their jobs. Ain’t we way past total employment?”
Sandy leaned back, content to let these two explore the impasse they had created.
“There is no reason for this strike,” Rita said softly. “I’m not going to change anything.”
“Says you,” Abby snapped. “Would it surprise you to know, Longknife, that a lot of the Colonials that come up to work with us don’t trust you any farther than they can throw this space station? You don’t have a lot of credibility and I hope I don’t hurt your feelings none, but some folks really don’t like you.”
Abby paused for a moment, but Rita showed no interest in countering these attacks on her as a person or a legend.
“You may like these days for little kids to run around calling you that warm and fuzzy Granny Rita, but a lot of the young folks working up here have heard stories from their folks of when it was your way or no way. Some families still remember some of the folks you hung without much due process. They kind of think their ancestors got a raw deal before they ended up dancing at the end of your rope.”
“Are you trying to shock me, Ms. Nightingale?” Rita snapped when Abby paused for a breath. “Don’t waste your air. I know I made mistakes, but they don’t keep me awake at night. We were in a desperate situation and I did what desperate times called for. Don’t gain say me, young woman. You weren’t here. You didn’t live it.”
“You’re right. I weren’t and I don’t. What I do worry about, and a whole lot of workers up here are concerned about, is you. What will you do now? It sure looks like you’re apt to use the same hammer you used to solve those long-ago problems to solve our present day problems. We don’t think this situation is anything like that one. A lot of us think you are an old dog and we don’t trust you not to try some of your old tricks.”
The two women glared at each other for a long moment.
“You got any suggestion for how I might change the stripes on my reputation?” Rita snapped.
“No ma’am. A couple of hundred years ago, you’d be dead and buried and they’d have raised a nice statue to you by now. Now, we all live a lot longer and I’m hoping for a life just as long as yours. Still, I don’t know why you can’t stay the hell retired like you’ve said you were going to do. What is it, three, four times you’ve retired? Every time, you come back with guns blazing. Right, Ada?”
“Every time,” the First Minister answered dryly.
Now it was Rita’s turn to lean back in her chair. “Okay, Abby, you managed to organize us a union in what, two days, and take them out on strike two days later. What’s your solution for this problem? I’m all ears, but remember, it’s got to stop my darling brat if he tries to take things over again.”
Abby leaned forward mirroring Rita’s intensity and presented those around the table with an intense glare.
“We’re workers. All we want to do is get honest pay for an honest day’s work. Leastwise, that’s the usual spiel. Out here on the tip of the spear, we got to agree that we need something extra. We need to know that our sweat will keep us all safe. We don’t want, any more than this Longknife here,” she said, waving at the woman at the other end of the table, “to have someone who ain’t got their neck on the chopping block telling us what we have to do.
“Now, everyone here, excepting the grand admiral, has gone through a prioritization conference or two. Every one of us has left blood on the deck as our bull got gored by your bull and your bull got gored by ours. It’s damn tough to decide how to balance battlecruisers with butter and have a bit left over for more fabs.
“But all of us, again excepting the grand admiral, have seen Kris Longknife switch off the power to our scheduling boards and tell us we’ve gone off down a rabbit hole. Every one of us has looked at Kris with blood in our eyes, and then climbed down off our high horses and come to realize that she was right and we was wrong.
“Then Kris would turn the power back on and stand back well clear while we examined the rabbit hole we was in and dug our way out of it. I don’t know anyone here who hasn’t felt they owned the final
production plan every damn time we had to redo it.”
Abby got nods from everyone around the table. Everyone but Sandy. As Kris Longknife’s former maid had said, Sandy was new to this process.
I’ll have to talk to a couple of people about how this process works, if I don’t get an earful before we’re done.
“The problem of the folks that voted to strike and who sent me here is that we don’t see anyone who can fill Kris Longknife’s boots. Yes, Grand Admiral Santiago, you’re filling one or two of her shoes, but your orders from the King don’t have near the breadth of the orders he gave Kris. She was a fighting admiral, a princess, and a major shareholder in Nuu Enterprises. Ain’t no one else got all those shoes in her closet.”
Sandy grimaced at that, but found she had to agree. Not only agree, but be glad that she didn’t have to wear all those shoes. Or maybe hats.
“So,” Abby continued, “what do we do about it?”
Having asked the question, Abby swept the table with a long glance. No one stepped in to fill the silence.
“Okay, Rita’s come up with one solution. She came up with it all by herself without talking it over with anyone. No one, no where, no how. Baby Ducks, don’t you see that how you made this decision scares the living shit out of those of us who will have to live and work with it? Gal, you are unilateral as all hell. Sorry, but you are. Course now, it worked back then, and you thought you could get away with it again in the here and now. None of us want to have you pull the same shit on us in the middle of a production schedule redo.”
Rita blushed. Sandy had to give the old gal credit, when hit in the face with a frozen fish of her own making, the gal could recognize her blunder.
“The problem with this, from where we work the fabs, is that anyone else who gets the Viceroy’s baton may be just as unilateral. Dare I say, they might even be subject to bribes or blandishments that could sway their judgement. This ain’t to say that Kris Longknife couldn’t have been gotten to. It is to say that no one ever successfully did. Anybody know of any honest broker like her that they got hiding in the closet?”
Kris Longknife's Relief: Grand Admiral Santiago on Alwa Station Page 2
