The Android's Dream

  “Not a clue,” Phipps said.

  “It is because we contested for the crown,” Narf-win-Getag said.

  “Exactly right,” Schroeder said. “At the time, the Nidu ruler left no heir to the throne. Impotent, although whether naturally or by sabotage is still a matter for discussion. Nidu traditions require a direct-line descendant and a faithful coronation process in order to achieve the throne. If you don’t have one or the other, your clan can’t succeed and the contest for the throne is opened up to competing clans. I’m right so far,” Schroeder said, checking with Narf-win-Getag.

  “So far,” agreed Narf-win-Getag.

  “When the throne is open, naturally certain clans will be in a stronger position than others to contest for it,” Schroeder said. “The last time around, two clans were the primary contenders: The auf-Getag clan, which currently sits on the throne, and the win-Getag clan, which does not. Each clan had its supporters both in other clans and among the CC, and there was the usual political intrigue and deal making and, long story short, for various reasons—”

  “Assassination and sabotage,” Narf-win-Getag growled.

  “—including assassination and sabotage,” Schroeder granted, “the auf-Getag clan emerged victorious in the race for the crown. As the defeated clan, the win-Getag clan experienced a massive loss of status and station, which is why Narf here is now Ambassador to Earth and not to the CC itself.

  “Now, here’s a funny wrinkle. In a situation where there’s no heir to the throne and a clan is selected to ascend, that clan creates a coronation process, which must be performed exactly in order for subsequent heirs to take the throne. If the heir doesn’t perform the coronation process exactly, the throne is open again, and then one of two things happens. First comes an interval period of about five days, in which the first clan to successfully replicate the coronation process can claim the throne. If no clan manages that, then it’s back to a free-for-all with all the clans fighting it out. You with me so far?”

  “I’m following you,” Phipps said. “But I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

  “I’m getting there,” Schroeder said. “And trust me, this is the short form of the story.”

  “Fine,” Phipps said.

  “Now,” Schroeder said. “Because of the Nidu traditions, the coronation ceremony usually involves something specific to the clan in power, which other clans can’t get. Traditionally, this involves objects or secret texts, but when the auf-Getag clan came to power it decided to do something different.”

  A light clicked on. “The sheep,” Phipps said.

  “The sheep,” Schroeder agreed. “A gift of the Earth government as a way to curry favor with the ascendant auf-Getag clan, along with a computer network designed for Nidu’s new ruler, to streamline his grip on power. The computer network is just a network, but the ownership of the sheep belongs to the auf-Getag clan and its royal family exclusively. No member of any other clan can possess the sheep on pain of death and disenfranchisement. What’s more, the coronation calls for a live sheep, since the coronation ceremony requires both the DNA of the sheep and a measurement of the brain activity. This helps to make sure no clan shows up with a jug of sheep blood for a coronation ceremony.”

  “But if someone kills off the sheep, then the coronation ceremony can’t go off,” Phipps said. “And the Nidu throne is thrown open.”

  “You got it,” Schroeder said.

  Phipps looked over at win-Getag. “You’re making a play for the throne.”

  “I am,” Narf-win-Getag said.

  “Then all this concern about finding the sheep was all just a ploy,” Phipps said.

  “Not a ploy,” Narf-win-Getag said. “I’m the ambassador to my government. My government wants to find the sheep. I simply knew the search wouldn’t be fruitful.”

  “Except it was,” Phipps countered. “They found the girl.”

  “Ah, yes, the girl,” Narf-win-Getag said. “And suddenly things became much more interesting. I’ve been planning—my clan has been planning, I should say—to ascend the throne for decades, biding our time, gathering allies for when the Fehen died and the throne could be brought into play. We knew other clans were doing the same, of course. It was not clear whether we’d be able to ascend, particularly given our unfairly-wrought low status. But suddenly here is a sheep who is also a human—and who is therefore not the property of the auf-Getag family. Someone who offers a quick, clean way to the throne.”

  “But you’re suing to make her the property of Nidu,” Phipps said. “Ben Javna’s going to court tomorrow to fight the case.”

  “The property of the Nidu government, not of the auf-Getag clan,” Narf-win-Getag said. “Clans have no standing in Common Confederation courts. The auf-Getag clan is hoping that the woman is found before the ceremony needs to be performed, while the government and the auf-Getag clan are one and the same. But if she is not, then any clan could use her to complete the coronation ceremony. If they had her.”

  “And you have her,” Phipps said.

  “No,” Schroeder said. “This Creek fellow keeps getting her away from us. We know they’ve gone off planet and we know they left from the DC area. From there it’s a process of elimination. There were only so many ships that left last night.”

  “And what are you going to do with when you find her?” Phipps said.

  “Take her,” Narf-win-Getag said. “Hide her. Then use her. And if I can’t do that, then kill her. Would you like another drink?”

  “No thank you,” Phipps said.

  “Jean?” Narf-win-Getag said.

  “Nothing for me,” Schroeder said. “But please, Narf, help yourself.” Narf-win-Getag nodded and got up; Schroeder turned his attention back to Phipps. “Now you see why we can’t let you have her, Dave,” he said. “We have our own plans for her.”

  “No matter what those plans do to the Earth,” Phipps said.

  “The Earth is going to be fine,” Schroeder said. “Its government less so, but that’s no great loss. You should know that the government of the Earth is damned no matter what. If the auf-Getag keep the throne, they’re going to believe the government of the Earth actively worked to bring their downfall. That’s bad news. It’ll probably mean a war. If the win-Getag take the throne, they’re going to remember that the government of the Earth supported their enemies in their bid for the throne once upon a time. That’s also bad news. It will also probably mean a war. The difference here is that if the win-Getag are on the throne, they will be the ones to name an administrator for Earth and her colonies after the hostilities have ceased.”

  “You,” Phipps said.

  “Me,” Schroeder said. “And what a political masterstroke it will be for the new Nidu government to name as Earth’s administrator someone with such a long and colorful history of enmity with the Nidu. It’ll reassure the citizens of Earth that their government will stand up for their interests. It’ll reassure the CC that the Nidu are fair and just conquerors. Everybody gets something.”

  “Except that in being conquered, the Earth would lose her independent status, her right to her colonies, and her right to be represented in the Common Confederation,” Phipps said.

  “Details, details,” Schroeder said. “Yes. The Earth will lose her representation and the administration of her colonies. But it’s only a temporary loss. Narf has assured me that he has no interest in our real estate or in telling us what to do. He can hardly stand humans as it is.”

  “Present company excepted, of course,” Narf-win-Getag said, from the bar.

  “So we’ll be back to independent status within a decade,” Schroeder said. “Mind you, it could go faster if I had help in my administration. Such as yours.”

  Phipps blinked. “Are you trying to bribe me?” he said.

  “No, Dave,” Schroeder sighed. “I’ve already been bribing you. Now I’m trying to buy you outright. A lot of the really good positions have already been filled by my staff over at the Americ
an Institute for Colonization, I’m afraid. But I could see my way to letting you run some portion of the globe. I hear New Zealand is nice.”

  “Listen to you,” Phipps said. “You’ve traded away your birthright for a mess of porridge. You’re running a group that’s meant to help the Earth and her colonies prosper, not become subjugated by an alien race. I can’t even imagine what your father would say to you.”

  “Well, first, I’m not selling my birthright for porridge, I’m selling it to run the entire fucking planet,” Schroeder said, “and that seems like a pretty good deal to me. Second, it was my father and the Nidu ambassador Naj-win-Getag who got the ball rolling on this project forty years ago, so I would imagine he’d be thrilled.”

  “I don’t understand,” Phipps said.

  “You think something like this happens overnight?” Schroeder said. “Yes, the part with the girl is all improvisation. But everything else about planning to take the throne of Nidu has taken decades. My father was uniquely suited to help the win-Getag clan. He was Earth’s first Representative to the CC, for God’s sake. He knew everyone and everyone knew him. The AIC was the perfect vehicle for Dad to further the goal, to influence generations of Washington hall-crawlers and create an anti-Nidu sentiment that masked his actual agenda of bringing the win-Getag clan to the throne. It worked. It still works, even in the Webster administration. How do you think your boss got his job, Dave? It was one of Dad’s last chess moves before he died.”

  “This is insane,” Phipps said.

  “I take it that means you’re saying ‘no’ to ruling New Zealand,” Schroeder said.

  “I’m saying you need to rethink what you’re doing,” Phipps said. “You’re going to hand your entire species over to war and subjugation. That’s insane. I can’t condone that. Jean, tell me where the woman is and we can all still get out of this with our hides intact. Otherwise I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “Dave,” Schroeder said. “You can’t guarantee anything, anyway. You have nothing I need. Last chance, pal. Join the club.”

  “Or what? You’re going to kill me?” Phipps said. “Be serious, Jean. If it came to that, I could break your neck while you were still trying to get up off of that chair.”

  “Oh, yes, you were Special Forces, and I’m just a soft Ivy Leaguer,” Schroeder said. “I remember that. You’re right, of course. I could never kill you. It would be foolish of me to try. I could never get away with it. But I know someone who could.”

  Phipps felt pressure a fraction of a second before he saw the tip of the Nidu spear emerge from just below his ribcage.

  “Narf, for example,” said Schroeder, conversationally. “He has diplomatic immunity.”

  Phipps grasped at the protruding spear tip and was caught off guard when the second spear came through his abdomen, in a bilaterally symmetrical position from the first. He grasped that one as well and tried to stand up, and looked for a moment like a skier with his poles stuck through his kidneys.

  Narf-win-Getag came around from behind Phipps and stood in front of him. “These spears are said to have been used in battle by Zha-win-Getag, the noble founder of my clan line,” Narf-win-Getag said. “You should be honored to die upon them.”

  Phipps burbled up blood and collapsed to his knees, pitched forward, and died. The spears caught in the chair and kept Phipps from falling forward completely.

  “You were right,” Narf-win-Getag said to Schroeder. “He would have upset our plans.”

  “I know,” Schroeder said. “It’s important to know what people are thinking before they do.”

  “What would you have done if he said he wanted to join us?” Narf-win-Getag said.

  “I would have had you kill him anyway,” Schroeder said. “He took bribes. He couldn’t be trusted.”

  “He took bribes from you,” Narf-win-Getag said.

  “Precisely,” Schroeder said. “So I know exactly how little he could be trusted.” He looked down at Phipps. “That’s a shame, though.”

  “That you couldn’t trust him,” Narf-win-Getag.

  “No, that you had to spear him,” Schroeder said. “Now there’s blood all over that rug. That shit never comes out.”

  chapter 11

  The first thing Creek and Robin did was sleep. They found their way to their cabin, an economy job on one of the lower decks, by the engine and the crew quarters, and squeezed their way through the door. They collapsed onto their respective single bunks and were out, dreamless, for 12 hours.

  The second thing they did was shop. Fixer had graciously provided Creek with a sweatshirt to swap out for his torn and bloody shirt (although not so graciously that he didn’t charge Creek a ridiculous amount for it) and gave Robin her promised hat for free, but aside from that the two of them had as their possessions only their fake passports and what they had on their bodies. The Neverland was not one of the high-end cruise liners—it belonged to the Haysbert-American cruise line, which specialized in economy package tours for large groups—but it featured a reasonably nice clothes store on the Galaxy Deck. Robin picked out clothes and shoes for the both of them while Creek made inane conversation with the clerk, describing how their luggage had somehow been routed to Bermuda.

  The third thing Robin did was get her hair done. The third thing Creek did was get a massage. Both of them winced through their respective procedures but were pleased with the results. The fourth thing they did was sleep some more, waking up ravenous and just in time for the evening’s assigned-seat dinner. They found their seat assignment slipped under the door: table 17.

  “It says that dress is semi-formal—military dress uniforms preferred,” Robin said, reading the assignment.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to disappoint them,” Creek said.

  “At least I got you a nice suit jacket and tie,” Robin said. “Incidentally, don’t get used to me shopping for you. This is a once in a lifetime deal. I hope you don’t mind me saying I plan never to go into a mall with you again.”

  “Understood,” Creek said. “I hope you don’t mind me saying I share the sentiment.”

  “Good to have that out of the way, then,” Robin said, then looked at the invitation again. “But you have a dress uniform, right? Back at home? You’re a veteran.”

  “I am,” Creek said. “I do. But I don’t think I’ve put it on since I got out.”

  Robin smiled and waved airily, signifying the cruise. “You mean you’ve never done one of these before? Or even just a parade on Veteran’s Day?”

  “I’m not much for a parade,” Creek said.

  “I’m getting that from you,” Robin said. “That whole ‘loner’ vibe.”

  “It’s not that,” Creek said. “Well, it is. But it’s also that the best thing about my military service is that it’s over. I put away the uniform because I was done with it.”

  “Are you going to be okay with this cruise?” Robin asked. “Because I get the feeling the rest of these guys aren’t done with it yet. It’s kind of why they’re here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Creek said. “I’m a loner by inclination but it doesn’t mean I can’t fake sociability.”

  “There’s my trooper,” Robin said. “I bet you’re going to be the only guy there not in uniform, though. Just you wait and see.”

  “What, no uniform?” asked the bald man at table 17, as Creek and Robin took their seats.

  “Our luggage got sent to Bermuda,” Creek said, sitting.

  “Boy, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that excuse,” the bald man said, and held out his hand. “Chuck Gracie, and this is my wife Evelyn.”

  “Hiroki Toshima,” Creek said, taking it.

  “Come again?” Gracie said.

  “Adopted,” Creek said.

  “Ah,” Gracie said.

  “And this is my fiancée, Debbie,” Creek said, pointing to Robin.

  “Well! Congratulations to you two,” Evelyn Gracie said.

  “Thanks,” Robin said. “It was quite sudde
n.”

  “Well, you’ll have to tell us all about it,” Evelyn said. “I love a good engagement story.”

  “We met in a mall,” Robin said, deadpan. “We ran into each other. There were parcels everywhere.”

  Before she could go on two other couples arrived and introduced themselves: James Crower and his wife Jackie, and Ned and Denice Leff. As handshakes were offered all around, one final couple arrived: Chris Lopez and her companion Eric Woods. This precipitated another wave of handshakes and Creek explaining that he was adopted. A waiter came by and filled wine glasses.

  “Now that we’re all here,” Gracie said, “are there any officers at the table?” Everyone shook their heads. “Good!” Gracie said. “Then this is a salute-free zone. I say we get drunk and eat like pigs through the entire cruise.”

  Next to Gracie, Evelyn rolled her eyes and smacked her husband on the arm. “Settle down, Chuck,” she said. “This is your commanding officer speaking.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gracie said, and grinned at his tablemates. “You can see who’s in charge here.”

  “I hear the captain of the Neverland is a veteran of Pajmhi,” Chris Lopez said. “Does anyone know if that’s true?”

  “I can answer that,” Ned Leff said. “It’s true. He was a Marine lander jockey there. It’s one of the reasons we picked the Neverland for this cruise.”

  “That and it’s cheap,” Gracie said.

  “That doesn’t hurt,” Leff admitted. “But there were cheaper. I was on the steering committee for this cruise. Captain Lehane came to us and made the pitch for his ship. It sealed the deal. He was a hell of a pilot at Pajmhi, you know. His lander took a direct hit and he still managed to get it and his squad back to their ship.”

  “And now he’s ferrying around tourists,” James Crower said.

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Lopez said. “He did his tour like all of us.”

  “I’m not criticizing,” Crower said. “Hell, I’m envious. I was a hopper jockey myself. Now I sell carpet. I’d trade.”