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"What about Merril? It's his sector."
"What about him? Same objections to him as anybody else. More. Viceroy's job is pretty carefully defined. Dealing with aliens isn't. Merrill wouldn't get too big for his britches and try to set up his own little Empire out here, but history shows one thing damn clear, you got to watch out for that. So it had to be a Commission. Parliament's not about to approve that much power for any single man, not even me. Made me chairman since I've got the votes. Put my niece on it-my brother was more popular than I am, we needed a woman, and here's Sally just been to the Mote. Fine. But I can't stay out here too long, Rod. Somebody's got to. That's you."
"I saw that coming. Why me?"
"You're a natural. Needed your old man's support to get the Commission approved anyway. Marquis is pretty popular right now. Done some good work consolidating his sector. Good war record. Besides, you're almost Royal Family. You're in line the Throne-"
"About twenty-eighth. My sister's boy has a better claim than I do."
"Yeah, but it s not spreading the prerogative too far. The peers trust you.. Baronage likes your father; Commons too, and nobody's going to think you want to be king out here, you'd lose Crucis Court. So now the problem is to find a couple of local dummies who'll take their baronages and go along with you after I leave. You'll have to find yourself a replacement before you can go home, but you'll manage that. I did." Fowler smiled beatifically.
The Palace loomed up ahead of them. Kilted guards stood outside in ceremonial uniforms, but the officer who checked their credentials against his appointment list before waving them through the gates was a Marine.
"Got to hurry," Senator Fowler said as they drove around the circular way to the bright red-and-yellow-rock steps. "Rod, if those Moties are a threat, could you order Kutuzov in there with a battle fleet?"
"Sir?"
"You heard me. What are you smiling about?"
"I had this conversation with one of my officers back at Mote Prime. Only I was in your seat. Yes, sir. I wouldn't want to, but I could. And I can answer so fast because I decided the question on the way home, otherwise I'd have had to tell you to stuff your Commission." He paused a moment. "Sally couldn't, though."
"Wouldn't expect her to. She wouldn't fight it, either. Any evidence that would make you - or me order something like that would make her resign. Look, I've been over those reports until I'm deaf and blind, and I don't find much wrong-there are a few things, though. Like your middies. I'm having trouble swallowing that frog."
"So am I-"
The cab pulled up at the Palace steps and the driver opened the doors for them. Rod fished for bills to pay the fare, and he gave too large a tip because he wasn't used to riding in cabs.
"Will that be all, my lord?" the waiter asked.
Rod glanced at his pocket computer. "Yes, thank you. We're going to be late, Sally." He made no attempt to stand. "Angus-we'll have coffee. With brandy."
"Yes, my lord."
"Rod, we really will be late.." Sally didn't get up either. They looked at each other and laughed. "When was the last time we had lunch together?" she asked.
"A week? Two? I don't remember. Sally, I've never been so busy in my life. Right now a main fleet action would be a relief." He grimaced. "Another party tonight. Lady Riordan. Do we have to go?"
"Uncle Ben says Baron Riordan is very influential on New Ireland, and we may need some support there."
"Then I suppose we have to" Angus arrived with coffee Rod tasted it and sighed in satisfaction "Angus, that is the best coffee and brandy I've ever had Your quality has improved in the last week"
"Yes, my lord. It is reserved for you"
"For me? Sally, is this your-?'
"No." She was as puzzled as he. "Where did you get it, Angus?" "A merchant captain personally brought it to Government House, my lady. He said it was for Lord Blaine. The chef tried it and said it was fit to serve,"
"And that it is," Rod agreed enthusiastically. "Who was the captain?"
"I'll find out, my lord."-
"Some officer seeker," Rod said thoughtfully after the waiter left. "Although you'd think he'd have let me know-" He glanced at his computer again. "I suppose we haven't long. We can't keep the Viceroy waiting all afternoon."
"We might as well. You and Uncle Ben won't agree to my suggestion, and-""Let's leave that until the conference, sweetheart" The Viceroy was demanding an immediate Commission decision on what to do about the Moties. He was only one of many. War Minister Armstrong wanted to know how large a battle fleet it would take to disarm the Moties-just in case, he said, so that Admiral Cranston's War Plans Division could go to work.
The Imperial Traders' Association insisted that everything Bury knew about trade possibilities be made available to all members. The Grand Deacon of the Church of Him wanted proof that the Moties were angels. Another Himmist faction was sure they were devils and the Empire was suppressing the information. Cardinal Randolph of the Imperial Church wanted tapes of Motie life broadcast on tri-v to finish the Himnists once and for all.
And everyone in two hundred parsecs wanted a seat on the Commission.
"At least we'll be in the same meeting," Sally said.
"Yeah." Their Palace quarters were in the same corridor but they never saw each other except at parties. During the confused blur of the past weeks Rod and Sally had seldom been in the same conferences.
Angus returned and bowed. "Captain Anderson, Ragnarok, my lord."
"I see. Thank you, Angus. That's an Imperial Autonetics ship, Sally."
"Then Mr. Bury sent the coffee and brandy! That was very nice of him-" - -
"Yeah." Rod sighed. "We really do have to go." They went upstairs from the executive dining room to Viceroy Merrill's working office. Senator Fowler, War Minister Armstrong, and Fleet Admiral Cranston were waiting impatiently.
"Our first lunch together in two weeks," Rod explained. "My apologies." They sounded perfunctory.
"It won't be so bad when Lenin gets in," Senator Fowler said. "Horvath's scientists can make most of the public appearances...they'll eat it up."
"Assuming you give them permission to appear," Prince Merrill drawled. "You haven't let your protégés say much for all the talking they've done."
"Your pardon, Highness," Admiral Cranston said. "I'm in a hurry. What do I do about Lenin's arrival? The ship orbits in sixty hours, and I have to send orders to Kutuzov."
"We'd have that settled if you'd agree to my suggestion, Uncle Ben," said Sally. "Give them quarters in the Palace, assign them servants and guards, and let the Moties decide whom they want to see."
"She has a point, Benjie," Merrill observed. "After all, they are the representatives of a sovereign power. Hard to justify keeping them pe
"Admiral Kutuzov is convinced the Modes are a threat," the War Minister said. "He says they are very persuasive. Give them a chance to speak to whom they will and there is no telling what they might do. They could make political trouble for us, Your Highness, and we do no need that."
"But you have to agree that three Moties aren't any military threat," Sally insisted.
Benjamin Fowler sighed heavily. "We've been over this before. It isn't the military threat I worry about! If we turn the Moties loose they will make deals. Bury's report convinces me of that. The Moties can get interest groups formed to support them. Negotiate trade agreements."
"The Commission has a veto on any agreement, Uncle Ben."
"Harder to kill a deal than see one isn't made to begin with. Look, if the Modes are everything Horvath - thinks they are: peaceful, anxious to sell or give us new technology, no competition for living space-and how in hell can he know that?-no military threat, never going to ally with the outies . .