Vacation on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 7) (19 page)

“All of us can trace our recent roots back to Earth, including our artificial people. Some of us, myself included, grew up on Earth, but I’ll wager that most of you have never voted in a human election. To be honest, you haven’t missed much. The history of democracy on Earth is a story of wealth, celebrity, family name and incumbency. Fourth principle. Leadership should be open to anybody who can lead. Do you agree?”

Support for the forth principle was nearly unanimous, and since the InstaSitters couldn’t decide what to chant, Daniel allowed the video to continue without pause.

“One person, one vote. What does that really mean?” Walter asked rhetorically. “On Earth, it meant that after the moneyed interests and the unelected elites picked their candidates, the people were allowed to choose best of the worst. Democracy? Yes. Self-government? Hardly. We say that government needs to be one person talking to one person. Not just a vote, but a permanent channel of communications. Fifth Principle. Answerability. Are you with me?’

The sea of hands went up again, and the girls began chanting, “Answerability. HEEL. Answerability. Walter.” Daniel hit fast forward.

“Thank you. You all know that money talks and hot air dissipates. Our benevolent hosts have had tens of millions of years to develop a system to govern a large chunk of the galaxy. How do they keep the peace? With economic incentives, with the Stryx cred. You get what you pay for with government, and in the old Earth governments so well-documented by the Grenouthians, what you got was out of control borrowing and debts passed on to future generations. The fiscal and monetary sins of our governments were what forced the Stryx to step in and save us, costing us our independence. Sixth principle. A species in hock cannot stand.”

Walter didn’t even have to ask for a show of hands this time. Many of the Little Apple shoppers who had wandered over out of curiosity clapped without being paid, and the InstaSitters briefly chanted, “No Debt, HEEL. No Debt, Walter.”

“So how do we build and finance a new form of government, an answerable form of government. A government that can’t spend money it doesn’t have and can’t pay people more than their supporters believe they are worth. HEEL believes we have found that solution. Seventh Principle. Multi-level government. A government of relationships. Does that sound good?”

“Relationship Government,” the girls chanted once or twice.

“What’s he talking about?” Kelly subvoced to Jeeves, communicating over her implant so as not to interrupt the others.

“It’s a pyramid scheme for government. Great potential for the person at the top,” Jeeves replied in her ear.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Walter said, requesting calm once again. That’s when Kelly noticed that many of the older audience members were holding plastic cups with foam clinging to the sides, pretty clear evidence that free beer had played a major role in the turnout. “Now here’s the key concept to the whole thing. The more of you who sign up today, the higher I’ll rise in the government. The higher I rise, the closer YOU are to the top. Eighth Principle. Proximity equals power.”

“Hold on,” Kelly said, causing Daniel to pause the playback. “I get that a human pyramid can only have one person on top, I’ve been to the circus. But there’s a limit to how many people can be in each layer before the ones at the bottom get crushed into donut fillings.”

“Very well put,” Clive said, poking his finger into a powdered jelly donut and bringing it out covered with raspberry jam. “Unfortunately, Walter has to work with what HEEL gives him. They’re still developing their training materials. Just one iteration back, their idea was to bribe everybody into voting.”

“What a bizarre hash of mismatched concepts,” Kelly said. “If somebody actually tried electing a government like this, it would mean an instant dictatorship. Have we figured out who’s behind HEEL yet?”

“That’s what this is all about,” Daniel said. “They’ve been recruiting their organizers through anonymous postings to job boards and using untraceable Thark accounts for transferring money. All Walter knows about his employers comes from the materials they deliver by a regular commercial service, no return addresses.”

“Jeeves?” Kelly asked, hating herself for attempting the shortcut.

“Competitive information,” the Stryx replied. “And the truth is, I’d just be making a high-probability guess. Somebody is doing a very good job covering their tracks.”

Nineteen

A double section of the high ceiling in Mac’s Bones retracted, leaving nothing but the atmosphere retention field between the pressurized hold and the vacuum of Union Station’s open core. Aisha refused to look up as the alien craft came into view. Instead, she dropped to her knees and hugged Ailia with a ferocity that might have scared the child in any other situation. Beowulf patrolled around them in a tight circle, looking upset. Everybody was wearing their best clothes, but the mood was as somber as a funeral.

“It’s a damned shame,” Joe repeated to Paul for the tenth time since Gryph had alerted them to the approaching ship and its business a few hours earlier. “I know it’s the best thing for the long run, but it’s still a damned shame.”

“Maybe it’s better to get it over with now rather than five years down the road, but I doubt Aisha sees it that way,” Paul replied, for perhaps the third time.

“You double-checked that this Baylit woman is telling the truth?” Joe asked Jeeves. The Stryx was ostensibly there as Paul’s friend, but also to make sure that the volatile Vergallian wouldn’t decide that the humans had offended her honor and try to start a shooting war in the hold.

“It’s not even a secret at this point,” Jeeves replied. “The Grenouthian news network has been broadcasting exclusive video of her forced landing on Farling Pharmaceutical’s export orbital. The Vergallians never even acknowledged Farling traffic control, and I suspect she was disappointed when they capitulated without a fight. Of course, the Farlings have no vested interest in Vergallian wars of succession and would have gladly sold her the evidence for a suitable price.”

The Vergallian captain’s gig eased through the atmosphere retention field and began its descent. The vessel was only the size of Joe’s tug, the Nova, but it was heavily armored and showed signs of repaired battle damage.

“If her transport for polite visits looks like that, I’d hate to see the mother ship angry,” Woojin commented.

“I still can’t believe she risked starting a war between the Empire of a Hundred Worlds and the Farlings based on a rumor,” Kelly said. “I know the Vergallians take their honor seriously, but the Farlings are a much more advanced species. Besides, the military types must have a pragmatic side or they wouldn’t have hired so many of you guys as mercenaries. Didn’t one of you tell me you were in a Vergallian war that they halted when it went over budget?”

“Yes, but all of our experience was with the planetary forces on the tech-ban worlds,” Clive replied. “Their fleet is a whole different culture. It rarely even visits the worlds on the tunnel network, and they don’t use mercenaries. According to our friends in Drazen Intelligence, there’s no love lost between the fleet and the larger royal houses. If it wasn’t for the family relations and the economic ties, they’d probably be at war with each other.”

“So this Baylit woman got evidence from the Farlings proving Ailia’s family was defeated through cheating, and the royal house that engineered the war was outlawed and had to concede the kingdom?” Kelly speculated, recapping the snatches of conversation she’d overheard while she was also trying to help Aisha hold herself together. The whole thing had happened so suddenly that it was unbelievable, but perhaps as Paul had implied earlier, getting it over quickly was the best for everybody.

“The royal house that cheated had to concede their lives,” Clive replied grimly. “Their own troops and mercenaries turned against them. The whole tech-ban system for preserving a feudal society on most of the Vergallian worlds falls apart if somebody sneaks advanced technology into a war. They all live in fear of undetectable drugs that can alter the course of a battle by degrading the performance of soldiers and their mounts, including those oversize birds they fly for air support. When you put war back on a medieval footing, there’s nothing more important than the health of the army, mental and physical. Some of those Farling compounds can make a man see ghosts.”

Kelly glanced around quickly to make sure the children weren’t in earshot. “And Baylit survived when Ailia’s family was massacred because she was off-world with the fleet?”

“She’s not legitimate, you can tell by her name,” Joe said. “You know the Vergallians live longer than humans, three hundred years or more if they don’t get killed in a war or an accident. The men in the royal houses rarely marry before they’re a hundred or so. Baylit is Ailia’s half-sister through a consort her father had before marrying, but royal succession with the Vergallians is strictly through the distaff side.”

“Sending an illegitimate son to the military was common practice in medieval times on Earth,” Woojin contributed. “High ranking military have many of the same privileges as the royal houses on Vergallian worlds, though nobody ever forgets who is who.”

“So this woman can rule in Ailia’s name for now, but she can’t seize power for herself?” Kelly asked in a low voice. Her reading about feudal times on Earth, both fiction and nonfiction, suggested that bad faith on the part of a guardian often led to regicide.

“That’s right,” Woojin reassured her. He had spent a large portion of his mercenary career on Vergallian worlds, and his familiarity with the royalty of the eastern nations on Earth helped him unravel the complex family structures of his alien employers. “It’s rare for the Vergallian College of Heralds to grant guardianship of a royal heir to a relative who isn’t related to the mother, but the circumstances are somewhat unique.”

“They didn’t want to offend a woman who commands the loyalty of a squadron of ships and has demonstrated that she isn’t afraid to use it,” Clive translated for Kelly. “We don’t have great intelligence on the inner workings of the Vergallian empire, but it’s not credible that a rogue house would have gambled on violating the tech-ban on their own initiative. It’s more likely that both of the families involved were being used as pawns in a bigger game, but somebody made a fatal mistake by not taking Baylit into account.”

The captain’s gig settled onto the deck of Mac’s Bones, where it looked badly out-of-place against the background of small traders and family-sized excursion craft. The front hatch popped open almost immediately, and four Vergallian marines emerged and formed a small honor guard for their captain.

Kelly gasped as Baylit stepped out of her craft, and then inhaled sharply again when the captain turned towards them. The ambassador’s first look at the Vergallian’s face showed a triangular mass of scar tissue extending from the jaw to the melted ear, leaving an artificial eye staring out of a reconstructed socket. But when she turned her good side to the waiting humans, Kelly saw a profile that looked like an artist’s conception of Ailia projected some years into the future.

In accordance with Vergallian etiquette, Joe stepped forward and barred the captain’s way.

“Permission to enter your territory,” Baylit stated formally, though her tone and bearing left no room to imagine it was a request.

“Permission granted,” Joe replied, unable to sound happy about it.

After completing the brief ritual, the Vergallian captain allowed her gaze to move away from Joe, and she quickly spotted Ailia peeking out from behind Aisha’s back. Beowulf bristled as Baylit approached, but the woman showed no fear of the giant dog, and the corner of her mouth on the good side might even have twitched upwards. She stopped a pace away from the human woman, who was still kneeling with her back towards the unwelcome visitor, and allowed the Huravian hound to sniff her. Beowulf had been hoping it was all a mistake, but his nose told him the woman was Ailia’s half-sibling for certain.

Aisha felt her Vergallian orphan go rigid in her arms and she realized the time had come. She rose slowly and faced Baylit, keeping her hands on Ailia’s shoulders. The human woman’s face was streaked with tears that she made no attempt to wipe away.

“Queen Ailia,” the battle-scarred captain addressed the little girl formally. “I am Royal Protector Baylit, duly appointed by the College of Heralds.”

“Royal Protector and elder paternal half-sister Baylit, I accept your authority,” Ailia replied. It was a formulaic response that Banger had taught her after consultation with Libby. The transfer of power was completed in the two brief sentences, as was typical for Vergallian formalities.

“Did you know of my existence before today?” Baylit asked gruffly. She hadn’t seen her father since shortly after Ailia was born, and she knew that the girl had been sent away for safe keeping when she was barely old enough to talk.

“Avidya, Andina, Adura, Baylit,” Ailia half sang in response. “But I didn’t know who any of the people were. It’s just the end of a list of twenty-four names I was taught to recite at bedtime every night before my parents sent me here.”

“Your mother included me in the last verse of your succession chant?” The burned face twisted with emotion, and Baylit crouched down to bring her eyes on level with the girl’s. “Avidya was your mother, Andina and Adura were your two older sisters. You’ve already accepted me as the Royal Protector. Can you accept me now as your family?”

Ailia stepped forward and put her arms around the woman’s neck, not hesitating to place her head on Baylit’s damaged side and press her cheek against the old scar tissue. The Vergallian briefly stroked the little girl’s hair, and then she straightened up again, keeping hold of one of Ailia’s hands.

“As the Royal Protector and Ailia’s sister, I thank you for taking care of her for us,” Baylit said to Aisha.

Aisha blinked and bowed her head, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I can protect her better than you,” Samuel declared in Vergallian, running up and seizing Ailia’s free hand.

“I thank you also,” Baylit said formally, but the boy wasn’t interested in words.

“Stay with us,” he begged the girl. “Banger will be so sad if you go that he’ll probably turn himself off. And you know Beowulf only lets me ride on his back if you’re there.”

“Samuel,” Kelly said, coming up and putting her hand on her son’s head. “It’s all been decided. It wouldn’t be right for us to keep Ailia from her family now that they’ve found each other.”

Samuel pulled on Ailia’s hand as hard as he could, and though the girl looked at him sadly, she didn’t let go of Baylit. For a moment, she was stretched between the Vergallian captain and Samuel. Then the boy’s grip failed and he fell on the floor.

“Who needs a dumb girl anyway!” Samuel cried. Then he turned and fled off towards to the ice harvester, where he crawled underneath to hide. Banger dipped once in the direction of Ailia to say goodbye, and then the little Stryx followed the boy silently. Kelly turned to start after him as well, but Joe stopped her.

“Let him be for a bit,” he said. “It’s going to take time.”

“You are the boy’s parents?” Baylit asked. The McAllisters nodded their assent. The Vergallian woman reached in her boot and pulled out a small, sheathed throwing dagger, which she handed to Joe. “Please give this to the boy when he comes of age. The hilt bears my father’s crest and it will grant him safe passage to Ailia’s world if he chooses to visit.”

“Thank you,” Joe said, accepting the weapon and sliding it into his pocket before Kelly could object. “Your sister has been a good friend to our son. We’re all going to miss her.”

“And you are also the EarthCent Ambassador,” Baylit stated, speaking directly to Kelly. “I thank you for taking my sister into your household. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude to EarthCent for dealing kindly with a friendless refugee.” She reached into an inner pocket of her tunic and brought out a small black rectangle, which she pressed into Kelly’s hand.

“Thank you,” Kelly responded diplomatically, not having a clue whether the object was a hard candy or a miniature anti-personnel mine. “May I ask you something?”

“As long as I don’t have to appear on your interview show,” Baylit replied, a half-smile fleeing across her stern features. “I watched a recording of your interview with the Maker. We never knew such a war with AI took place.”

“Did you find out that Ailia was on Union Station through her nurse?” Kelly asked. “It’s been almost six months since she left Ailia in the studio, and I was wondering if she had a change of heart.”

“The nurse remains on my to-do list,” Baylit said coldly.

“Please, elder paternal half-sister,” Ailia interrupted, intuitively understanding what her guardian meant. “If she hadn’t abandoned me, I never would have come here and made friends with Samuel and all of the McAllisters.”

“As my queen desires,” Baylit replied grudgingly, glancing towards the ice harvester.

“Mist and I packed all of your stuff, Ailia,” Dorothy said, dragging up a large duffle bag. “We added all of our souvenir holograms from Libbyland. Jeeves said he can get us copies.”

Ailia tried to say something but ended up just swallowing. Kelly looked at the girl’s white face and worried that she was going into shock. Baylit must have realized that the young queen’s reserves were nearing an end, because she reached down and picked the girl up. A head nod brought one of her marines at a run. The soldier snatched up the duffle bag and took it back to the captain’s gig.

“Permission to leave your territory,” Baylit requested of Joe.

“Permission granted,” Joe replied woodenly. Then he recovered his manners and snapped to attention, offering the Vergallian captain his sharpest salute.

Paul supported Aisha to keep her from collapsing as Baylit marched up the ramp of her gig. Ailia had one arm around her half-sister’s neck as she looked back at the family who had taken her in, waving like mad with her free hand. Then the remaining marines entered the gig and the ramp closed after them. The ship began to rise a moment later, and the humans watched sadly as it cleared the atmosphere retention field, taking the little Vergallian girl away from them.