Undaunted

24

No one was laughing as lunchtime approached.

“I’m forty-five,” the colonel said, pushing back from the table. “I’ve seen my share of human blunders and pettiness, read about a lot more, but I never expected to see anything this bad. Didn’t any of these people read their history?”

“There are reasons why people made those historical mistakes,” Penny said. “It looked like a good idea at the time.”

“I’d love to ban those words from the language,” Kris said.

“But how would you explain most of history without them?” Jack said. “Explain this without them.” He flipped his reader through several reports. “I’m glad your brother included his diary along with the news. It explains some of it.”

“It also shows his bias,” Penny added. “Remember, he’s up to his ears in this stuff, too. He’s not an innocent bystander.”

“He’s pretty junior,” Kris said, feeling the need to defend him.

“Kris, he’s got a full portfolio,” Penny said. “Yes, he feels ignored on some of this because of his youth, but he is speaking with the full force of Wardhaven behind him. And he is the great-grandson of King Ray, even if your father won’t let his boy call himself a prince.”

“How come he gets away with not being a prince, and I’m stuck being a princess?” Kris snapped.

“ ’Cause, Baby Ducks, you playing the princess card has saved our necks a couple of dozen times,” Abby said. “Besides, princesses are cute and cuddly. Your brother don’t do cute.”

Kris . . . cuddly! She waited for someone to pick a number and change the topic.

It took a while, but Jack finally came to her rescue.

“Factions, factions, why so bloody many factions?”

“And this one, What’s-his-name is leading,” Penny said. “Do they really want to restart the Iteeche War?”

“I hope not,” Kris said. “It’s more like they want to wave the bloody shirt and remind everyone how much their planet bled in the war.”

“Oh, and there’s a planet in the demilitarized zone they want to reoccupy,” the colonel said.

“That’s crazy,” Kris said. “The empty zone between us and the Iteeche has kept the peace for eighty years. Why mess with it now?”

“Well,” Penny said, “they say a consortium in the Helvetican Confederacy is about to recolonize the place. If they don’t, the Helveticans will.”

“Has anyone checked with the Confederacy?” the colonel asked. “Last I heard, they were as conservative as they came.”

Kris nodded; she had a hard time believing it, too.

Jack did a search on the file; there was no evidence of any contact with the Helveticans, but that proved nothing.

“These politicians ain’t showing a lot of smarts,” Abby concluded.

Kris let that hang in the air for a long minute, then decided it was time to grab the biggest bull by the horns. “That’s nothing compared to what the Bass brothers are trying to pull off.”

That got everyone’s attention.

The Bass brothers, four of them, were from Wynot, a planet whose industry and financial power had taken off under their grandfather’s rule. He’d been elected president for eight consecutive six-year terms. That was bothersome enough, but local. On Pitts Hope, the brothers were pushing to make the king of United Sentients a real ruling monarch . . . and hold a new election, with their grandfather’s name in the race.

“Nobody wants to have an honest-to-God monarch running around here. We’ve all been raised in democracies,” Penny said.

“Of one sort or another,” Abby added, darkly.

“Well, yes,” Jack said. “Some democracies are more democratic than others.”

“But the Bass brothers were the first to spot the weakness running through these negotiations,” Kris pointed out. “None of these planets really want to be associated all that closely with any of the rest. We’re all a bunch of ‘me do it my way,’ as Father likes to put it. The Bass brothers are pushing for a constitution where each of the planets gets to run things its own way. It’s more like an association than any real united anything. The king handles foreign policy and trade rules with outsiders, and each of the planets gets to do its own thing.”

“That is attractive,” Abby admitted.

“But makes no sense,” the colonel noted. “You can’t have a strong foreign policy without a strong and united power base behind you. Their tax structure is vague and keeps changing.”

“Because this is just a buy in,” Kris said. “They want to get the king over everyone. Then they’ll start to settle things that people don’t want to settle.”

“The Bass brothers’ constitution is about one-tenth the length of the one your brother Honovi is pushing.”

“Yep, big brother answers all the questions that need answering,” Kris said. “That leaves a lot to argue with. The Basses don’t. Just agree on what we can, then, once I’ve got you hooked, you’ll find out you’re in the stew.”

“So now King Ray goes to Pitts Hope,” Penny said. “He throws his support behind Honovi and gets his version of the constitution.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Kris said. “The golden moment may be past. Grampa may have to settle for a lot less if he’s to get anything.”

“And a whole lot less if he’s got to construct a new coalition out of the wreckage of his old one,” Penny said. “Thus, we go to Texarkana.”

“You know anything about that place?” the colonel asked.

“Only what’s in the encyclopedia,” Kris said. “Oh, and my grampa doesn’t want me to start a war. That’s more than he usually tells me about a mission.”

“He offer any suggestions on how you avoid falling into your usual evil ways?” Abby asked.

“Not a thing,” Kris said.

“ ’Cause I got some news for you, sweet pea, the locals already know you’re coming, and they already know what you’re going to do.”

That got everyone sitting up straight.

“How can they know I am coming when I didn’t know I was coming until yesterday?”

“Beats me, but the cowboys are sure you’re on their side, ready to enforce the old ways. And the industrials are just as sure you’re on their side, ready to make the old-timers see the error of their ways.”

“That’s nice to know,” Kris growled.

“Can it get any more complicated?” the colonel asked.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Cowboys and industrials. My dad researched our family tree. Traced it back to someplace on Earth. Arizona in the original United States of America. The kids had a game there. Cowboys and Indians. The two were usually at war with each other. Guns. Bang, bang,” he said, making a gun with his fingers and pulling the trigger twice.

“I think I know what you mean,” Abby said, pulling something up on her reader and sending it to the wall behind her.

A political cartoon appeared. A cowboy in chaps and spurs, huge hat on his head, and a six-gun in his hand, had a silly look on his face as his gun went click, click on empty.

Running at him was a bigger fellow. From the waist down, he was in breechclout and moccasins. From the waist up he sported a worker’s overalls and neck bandana. He had a band around his head with two feathers in it and was waving a huge wrench like it was a battle-axe, good for bashing in the cowboy’s head.

“That don’t look all that good,” Abby said.

“What do you expect?” Kris said. “Remember who gave us our orders.”