The Gripping Hand

"It may not be that fu

"They threw a bomb at Governor Smelev. But that was years ago. I think the worst we have to worry about on New would be getting too far behind on our shots."

The intercom saved Ruth from having to answer. "They finally called," said Re

The inauguration ceremonies had begun at noon and lasted six hours. The celebrities had gone their own ways. Now trucks were moving between the barricades that lined Skid Street. The sun was still well up.

Kevin and Ruth strolled along the main drag. Here was the Falling Ship, a hotel made up of two-story buildings laid in squares, flowerbeds between, aerial ramps linking the roofs. Kevin wondered what they were charging for rooms with a view of Skid Street. A taller hotel could have made considerably better profits on a day like this...but nothing stood tall on New Ireland, not even the Palace.

The trucks were opening like flowers. Ruth and Kevin stopped to watch one unfold. In minutes it had become a bakery, and merrymakers were swarming to buy fresh bread. Kevin bought a loaf, tore off two pieces, and handed one to Ruth.

They ate. "All right. You don't get this on shipboard," Ruth said. "Let's find some fruit."

"Crudités'?" Re

"I smell meat," Kevin said. "That way."

"It's not all sex here," Ruth said.

The sudden market already swarmed with women, young and middle-aged, varying between comely and beautiful, but generally good-looking. Men in Navy uniforms stopped to talk and found ready companionship. "I never did get shore leave on New Ireland," Kevin said. "We all knew it was what we wanted. Family cooking, fresh food, and wholesome sex. Hard to say which a Navy man wants more, after a year eating bioplast and yeast steaks. And marijuana. Even a little borloi. They told me you can get drunk, too, but you have to go looking for liquor, and it isn't in the rituals, if you follow me. No bars."

"And you're finally in Derry, but there's a woman hanging on your arm,"

"I'll tough it out somehow. And there's di

A carcass roughly the size of an ox was roasting over a fire. Right here in the street? Yes, but the fire was sitting on ribbed metal, the fold-down side of another truck. New Irish kept things neat. The burly proprietor cut them two slices and sealed them in plastic. They walked on.

"Speaking of sex," Kevin said, "what did you think of Trujillo?"

"I guess that look never goes out of style."

"No makeup. You probably thought she was careless. Look like a mouse, but wear a thin dress and no underwear. It turns men on. Worked on you, didn't it?"

"Point taken."

Ruth sighed. "It only works when you're young. Maybe I will take Bury up on his offer. Look, jugglers."

"Did you like her?"

"Trujillo? I'm not supposed to like her. She's no friend to the Navy. But the real answer is I didn't get much chance to talk to her."

"You will,"

"Kevin?"

"Weeks ago she requested passage to the Crazy Eddie Squadron. We all decided she could ride aboard Sinbad."

"Oh."

"Bury's idea. He wants to convert her into a Motie hater." Re

"Hmm. And you won't say whether she turns you on. I think I'd better do some shopping. Or should I bother?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we both know this doesn't last forever. Getting tired of me?"

"Not yet. Want out?"

"Not yet." She nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. "We'll leave it that way, then."

Re

"Mmm. Dammit, you've got me thinking like you."

"How so?"

"I want to see how the clerk acts when he sees you walk in with off-planet competition."

2 The High Commission

The art of putting the right man in the right places is first in the science of government; but that of finding places for the discontented is the most difficult.

Talleyrand

NEW SCOTLAND: Third planet of the New Caledonia system. Originally lifeless with extensive atmosphere of methane and water vapor, New Scotland was terraformed by massive infusions of genetically engineered microbes.

The original colonists lived under domes...

New Scotland's major city was dominated by the Viceregal Palace. It stood in the center of a series of concentric rings; much like medieval cities on Earth, New Scotland's growth was controlled by the city's defense technologies.

Re

"The Moties have done that much good," Ruth Cohen said. "They've got New Scotland and New Ireland thinking ‘us' about each other. Except at football games."

"They do get a bit rough, don't they? Better than throwing bombs at each other... well, some better anyway." But Moties wouldn't build like that, he thought. Wouldn't build what they couldn't defend.

The flier completed its circuit of the city. Re

They were directed to a different part of the building. Ruth Cohen giggled.

"The last time I was here it was for a meeting in the Council Chamber," Kevin said. "The big hail with a dome. Anybody could find that. How was I to know they'd put the Commission off here in the A

In contrast to the Grand Council Chamber, the Commission's meeting room was strictly functional. There was no throne. The Viceroy's place was merely an armchair at the center of the big table. The council table was massive. It might have been wood, but Kevin didn't think so. Chairs for advisers stood behind the table. In front there were seats for an audience of fifty or so. Large view screens, now blank, dominated both side walls.

They had barely got into the room when a tall, balding man dressed in dark, conservative business clothes thrust forward and held out his hand. "Kevin. By God, you look good." He paused to look at Re

Re

Cargill nodded.

"Ruth Cohen, meet Admiral Cargill. Jack was Exec in MacArthur," Kevin explained. "Are you still with the Crazy Eddie Squadron?"

"No, I'm on the High Commission."

"Gosh. You're important. And to think we shared a cabin once."