Part 7 (1/2)
Joshua waved a hand in futility. ”I didn't invent the art of wishful thinking; I just market it locally.”
”Yeah.” Justin found a vacant corner to stare at for a moment, then returned his gaze to this brother. ”So you really think we should pa.s.s this up?”
”To be brutally honest, no.” Joshua began ticking off fingers. ”Corwin's basic idea sounds good, and it's obvious we're the only two in the Worlds who could pull it off. We're likely to also be the only ones aboard who share Dad's view that hiring ourselves out is a dangerous precedent. And finally-” He grinned suddenly, shyly. ”Heck, Justin, you felt it in school, too. We're Moreaus-sons of the Cobra/Troft War veteran, governor emeritus, original Aventinian pioneer
Jonny Moreau himself. People expect something great from us.”
”That's a pretty blithering reason to do something.”
”By itself, sure. But combined with reason number two, it means our report and recommendations will carry a hefty bit of inertia when we get back from
Qasama... and given the current Council leaning, Dad may need that extra bit of weight to keep them from doing anything stupid.”
And on the other hand, Justin thought grimly, is what it'll do to Mom. Your basic no-win situation. But Joshua was right... and if there was one thing they'd learned from both parents, it was that personal comfort and preference were never to stand in the way of service to the whole. ”All right,” he said at last. ”If you're game, so am I. 'Gantuas, h.e.l.l: charge!' and all that.”
”Okay.” Joshua stood up. ”Well, then, we'd better get to it. Almo's got some serious sweat waiting for you, I don't doubt, and I've got a couple of surgeons down the hall warming up an operating table for me.
”Surgeons?” Justin frowned, getting-carefully-to his feet. ”What do they want you for?”
Joshua winked slyly. ”You'll find out. For now, suffice it to say that it's something that'll let you be the best me possible when we get to Qasama.”
”The best what? Come on, Joshua-”
”See you in a couple of months,” Joshua grinned and slipped out the door.
You and your stupid guessing games, Justin thought after him, and for a moment considered chasing him down and badgering whatever this was out of him. But Almo was waiting across the hall; and we're not 16 years old anymore, he reminded himself. Squaring his shoulders, he headed out to confront his new tutor.
Telephone screens had never in their long history come anywhere near the fine-detail resolution even the simplest computer displays required. It was a failing deliberately built in, Jonny had once heard, not for financial reasons but psychosocial ones. Wrinkles, worry lines, minor emotional perturbations-all were edited out, to the point that if the picture on the screen was happy, sad, or angry, it could be safely a.s.sumed the person himself was deep into the corresponding state.
It was a shock, therefore, to see how utterly tired Corwin appeared.
”As of ten minutes ago we were back to deadlock, Dad,” his eldest son told him, shaking his head. ”Of course, the Tlossies are really bargaining for the Baliu demesne, and Speaker One has only limited flexibility to work with. Especially on the survey mission budget. Every time we try to add something he has to take something else away. Or so he claims.”
Jonny glanced over the screen. Chrys, seated at the dining room table, was pretending to be engrossed in the collection of electronics parts she'd spread out there, but he knew she was listening to the conversation. ”Maybe I'd better come back down there, then,” he told Corwin. ”See if I can help.”
”Not worth it,” the other shook his head. ”Governor Telek's bargaining at least as hard as you could, and everyone's keeping out of each other's way for a change. Besides, the temp's dropped ten degrees since sundown.”
Jonny grimaced; but it was just one more environmental factor he'd had to learn to live with. Capitalia was in the middle of the first cold snap of autumn, and moving in and out of heated buildings was more than his arthritic joints could stand. The only alternatives to hiding indoors were heated suits or extra pain medication, neither of which especially appealed to him. ”All right,” he told his son. ”But if you guys don't break for the evening soon, call me back and
I'll relieve you. You look beat.”
”I'll be all right. The main reason I called was to check a couple of things on this parallel survey mission request you put in. How much of that are you willing for the Worlds to finance?”
”Not a single quarter,” Jonny told him flatly. ”At the bottom line this is a trade deal, Corwin, and no one trades for merchandise he hasn't even seen, let alone inspected. Of course, since it's the Pua demesne that's actually offering the five planets, you can probably insist the Speaker charge them the survey costs. All that'll ultimately do is throw the issue back to Pua and Baliu to work out between themselves, but at least it should get it out of our hair.”
”Yeah.” Corwin shook his head in bemus.e.m.e.nt, ”Hard to believe this collection of business cutthroats actually got together long enough to fight a war.”
”They did. Believe me, they did. And there's nothing that says they couldn't do it again.”
”Point taken. Well... are you willing for us to use the Menssana for the survey mission if the Trofts-whichever Trofts-pay alt the other expenses?”