On Xanadu Prime was fuming. He thumped his fist on the arm of his chair,
broke two of his fingers, before his medical support suppressed the pain and
began trying to rebuild the fragile old bones.
He sneered out over the ball being held by Baron Oberley, First Class. The season was winding down and the
Immoderates had not managed to find his missing son and the chit, his
daughter. They HAD to be on the planet
still. No shuttles had risen out of the
atmosphere since Perrin the Fourth had disappeared.
The music played on without a hitch, his
Third Class performers trained to a high point where even a riot on the
ballroom floor would make them stumble.
He was blessed. Anyone else on
the Galactic Board would pay as much as an Anderson Spine Engine was worth for
live human music, played on the ancient wood and brass instruments. The First Class circled and laughed and
chatted as if he hadn’t snarled a foul word along with the thump of his fist.
“Are we tiresome, Oh Font?” The Baron
leaned over in a half-bow. “Shall I
dismiss the rabble?”
“No, no, Oberley. I was just thinking. Let us withdraw for a bit, let the
festivities go on for the lesser folk, hmm?
One needs to let them preen themselves and play pretty politics even if
it has no bearing on the real world. They
think it does.” He waved at the glittering ballroom, his body support armour
showing only as a faint gold sheen on his skin.
“You and I and the two other Barons know what’s going on.”
“Yes, Oh Font. Roleigh and Jackson and I are most honoured
among men, to be in your personal confidence.”
Prime snorted. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Oberley, but
you may keep trying.” He rose and the music checked, as did the dancers. “Pray, continue your amusement,” he called and
turned his back on them all, strolling out beside the Baron to his library.
The library was the symbol of power here,
and Oberly was allowed the same galactic information that Prime was, except for
the owner codes of course. So the walls
soared up to the lofty ceiling, covered in rank and row of leather bound
volumes. Antique flat screens flickered through data and pictures. Quiescent holograms showed the 'ready' cascade. A veer booth stood off to one side, door open.
A row of globes marched up the
centre of the room, each showing a different planet in the solar system, with
Chishiki given pride of place, of course.
That globe was a hologram that spun on its own, suspended above them,
showing the terminator as it rotated. A
pause and it swirled and transformed into what it would look like, once the
oceans had filled enough… then back to current reality. Orange and maroon and blinding white, with
Xanadu showing a green bright enough to almost look like a toxic spatter of mold on the side of
the globe.
“How is Chancey doing off planet?” Prime
settled into the Baron’s own float chair and waved a hand at the second
spinning globe, showing the planet Artemis.
“Fother’s Tech is good enough though it’s almost as liberal as anything
on bloody Steinpeltz.”
“Nowhere is as liberal as Steinpelz,” the
Baron agreed. “I was astonished that
they passed that law.”
Prime snarled. “Aliens aren’t people. How could they just declare them unhumanoid
people?” They’re monkeys. We should have the right to come in and
terraform any planet we want.”
“Of course, Prime. May I ask how the new settlement on Hinnemon
is coming? I can send you another
village or two of Illiterate boys if you need the manpower.”
“I’ll think on it, Jason. Thank you.
The wildlife is proving somewhat vexatious. We’ve got a dozen men down with injuries and
rumblings of complaint that it’s too dangerous for their wives and… would you
believe it… that they WANT their wives with them… all at the same time. Madness.
Of course they breed like rabbits, and are feeling the want.”
“Send in some sex techs… they won’t get
pregnant, or fall in love with an Illiterate.”
The Baron stepped over to pour a pair of brandy snifters full of Coalred
Special Old. “Here’s to successful
ventures, Perrin.”
Prime grunted. “Suck up.”
“Of course.
It’s part of my charm. Besides,
my share of the new settlement will pay for a great many things I have been
wanting.”
“Like what?” Prime sipped his brandy and
stared at his youngest Baron.
“I have two more sons to get off planet to
various universities.”
Like an aggressive dog, calmed, Perrin let
his suspicious hackles down. “Of
course. You know, Jason, when the time
comes I have enough contacts with the Board to pull some strings…”
The Baron stood, smiling into his snifter
and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I
would never be in your debt, Perrin, not when I can pay. By the way… are we actually starting to get
oceans anywhere on the planet?”
“In the trenches. Everything else is sand slurry.”
“Pity.
I look forward to sailing here at home one day.”
“You went to school at…” He stopped,
thinking.
“On Aqua Regis. All sailing,” Oberley supplied helpfully.
“Ah, yes.” Prime sipped his brandy
again. “Jason, you haven’t made any
progress in the program that would let me kill my damn treasonous brat and his
offspring yet, have you?”
“Not without endangering you, personally,
Perrin. My lab just cannot seem to
refine it, even with your wife’s DNA.”
“It should have given you enough markers of
difference.”
“It’s more complicated than that, I’m
afraid.” Oberley looked solemn. “I’m
sorry he didn’t work out as your Heir.”
“I was thinking of offering for your
Melinda, Jason. Do you think she’d be a
good breeder?”
“Could be, though she’s a bit young.”
Behind his back, unseen, the Baron’s hand clenched hard, even as he kept his
tone light.
“Oh, not immediately. I’d certainly wait a year or two after
mourning my poor, deluded son.”
“At your discretion, Perrin.”
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