Part 8 (1/2)
”Put her on.”
”Kris, I got out of cla.s.s a bit late, could you pick me up at the back of the Faculty Center?”
”I'd be glad to, Gramma. Where do you want us?”
A map appeared in the air in front of Kris, a green blip on it. A moment later it was repeated on the heads-up display in front of the driver.
”I got it, Your Highness. We'll have to drive around the campus, but no problem.”
”We'll see you there,” Kris said.
And the green blip was suddenly no longer on the map.
”She throttled her squawker!” Nelly said as she pulled the map from the air in front of Kris. ”Civilians aren't supposed to be able to do that,” she sniffed.
”Possibly, Commander Tordon has kept her reserve commission on the books,” Jack said. ”But living close to Longknifes, I suspect she's just paid for more security than the average head-in-the-sand civilian feels a need for. And has her head on straight enough to use it whenever she gets too close to a Longknife. Might explain why she's still got that head.”
Kris found nothing to argue with.
The rigs zigged and zagged around a campus that looked very familiar to Kris. In the center of things were a few brick buildings, maybe one or two with pretentious stone pillars. The next layer out showed a more prosperous planet as granite and stone replaced brick in someone's idea of a neocla.s.sical style. But the population kept growing and money started getting short. The outer layers of cla.s.srooms and labs were shoehorned into big, blocky buildings rising not so high that they required more expensive construction materials, nor so low that they took up too much land that was getting expensive. The history of education was writ the same on hundreds of planets.
If Kris smiled at the sameness of the buildings, she almost laughed at the students, products of some cookie-cutter mold kept handy on every planet. The rigs' advance slowed, surrounded by a mob of hungry college students who, though afoot, showed no fear of cars and a near proprietary att.i.tude toward the streets.
”For G.o.d's sake, don't hit one,” Kris said after a close near encounter with a jaywalking pair of redheads.
”I'm doing my best,” Kris's driver said, tapping the brake as two coeds ducked between her and the lead car.
It was a good thing they were going slow, because they found Gramma Ruth waving at them a full two blocks early.
Jack said a bad word, usually reserved for only the worst of situations. Only this time, it oozed admiration. ”She is one smart cookie.”
Jack opened the door and pulled down a jump seat for himself. Ruth settled in next to Kris. Jack called over his shoulder, ”Take the next right and get us out of this mob.”
”They don't have the common sense G.o.d promised a gnat,” Ruth said. ”I know. I love them and I'm proud of the ones that actually do learn. But even the ones that can learn smarts may have no concept of what they should do for personal safety.
”The peace has been wonderful, but I can't help but wonder if it's been too long,” Gramma added, putting on her safety belt.
”Now that we're headed away from the campus,” Kris asked, ”where do we eat?”
”Oh, I know just the place. It's about six blocks down the way, then four to the right.” Ruth held up her wrist and squirted something to the driver's computer.
”Got it,” she immediately said.
”Do we have reservations?” Jack asked.
”That's what I like about this place. They serve the best Greek food in light-years, and never require a reservation. Oh, and they have separate rooms for those willing to pay extra. You'll like it,” she said, giving Jack a wide, knowing grin.
”Kris, I'm starting to think at least some of your relatives can acquire common sense. If they live long enough,” Jack said.
”Ah, but remember, I married into this mess. I'm a farmer's daughter,” Gramma Ruth said, patting down her gray hairs. ”I learned common sense at my mother's knee and my father's worried brow. You spend a few years wondering when it's going to rain and if you'll be able to pay the mortgage on the place, and you'll know what matters and what doesn't.”
”You can't have all that much common sense,” Kris snorted, not at all liking the way Jack was fawning over this smart old lady. ”She's met twice in the last twenty-four hours with a Longknife. Very risky business, I'd say, for an unarmed, unescorted little old lady.”
”Who said I'm unarmed,” Ruth snapped, and produced a very ladylike, and very dangerous-looking, automatic. It disappeared so fast that Jack didn't have a chance to raise an objection. Or for Kris to see where Gramma had it hiding.
”And didn't you see those two fine, young kids back there, keeping an eye out for me. Fine bodyguards they are.”
”Hold it,” Jack said, now getting a hand up.
”How'd you get your hands on a gun?” Kris said. ”And where did you get a bodyguard?”
”I hired them,” Gramma Ruth said very matter-of-factly.
”How?” Kris, Jack, Penny...and Nelly asked at once.
”From the guild hall, of course,” Gramma answered.
”What guild hall?” Nelly demanded. ”I searched the yellow database for armed escorts, bodyguards, security teams. Every t.i.tle any sensible planet would use. There is no such thing.”
”I even asked the amba.s.sador,” Kris added.
”You don't know,” Gramma Ruth said, eyeing Kris, then Jack.
He shook his head.
She frowned. ”When I learned you were coming, I mentioned to several of my friends on campus that I was excited to see you again. Next day, Dean Rosemon, head of graduate studies, an old fart from one of the oldest families on Eden, took me aside. He suggested I might want to see to my security, what with the bad blood between certain families and you Longknifes.
”I, of course, remarked of my surprise, seeing how Eden was so peaceful. Peaceful my eyeteeth. I know this place is seething under the surface. Every time I'm invited back, I'm surprised it's still here. Anyway, despite my most unladylike goading, all Herman Rosemon provided me with was a number for a consulting service.”
Gramma Ruth shrugged. ”I called the number. A very nice young man came by, looked at my daily schedule and my apartment. Two days later, just before you arrived, these two, hunky young men joined me for my walk to school, and they, or others like them have been with me every day since. I'm told the apartment is covered at night, but I've never met them.”
”And your weapon?” Jack asked.
”Comes with the service, or so I'm told.”
”Why weren't we told?” Kris demanded. ”Better yet, why couldn't we even turn up a hint that this guild hall exists?”
Gramma Ruth chuckled. ”Honey, haven't you figured it out? Eden presents one face to the universe, and saves its very ugly back side for locals and visitors who notice.”
”So I'm finding out,” Kris muttered.
”Any chance you could give us the number of that guild hall?” Jack asked, practical as always.
Ruth looked at the front seat, then glanced over her shoulder at the following rig. ”You thinking of trading in your Marines for local hires?”
No way would Kris trust some local to take his pay and take her bullet. She wanted her Marines in reach.
Jack wasn't so sure. ”They might have a better sense of this territory. G.o.d only knows we're way too much in the dark.”
”But could you trust someone who's only here for the paycheck to not take a bigger paycheck to look the other way?” Kris said. Abby was one question mark. How many question marks could she afford to have around her.