''But they needed more labor than could be done by the babies they were producing,'' Penny said.
''You can praise technology all you want, but there's still the dirty work, the stuff no one wants their kids to grow up and have to do,'' Ruth said.
''So they imported them from Earth,'' Kris said.
''And as these guest workers grew in numbers, the problem of them not having any say in how they were governed got to be more and more of a problem,'' Gramma Ruth concluded.
Kris pursed her lips in thought. ''And no one knows what to do about it.''
''Oh, don't kid yourself. They've known what they have to do since before the Iteeche War. Ray probably could have gulled them into it…if we hadn't suddenly found ourselves up to our eyeballs in critters with too many eyeballs and no love for us. When you're crossing a raging river, it's really hard to talk folks into changing their horse. Tarnation, girl! Some folks would consider it a damn fool thing to even consider. No, Ray folded his tent real fast, and the way things were stayed the same. Right up to today.''
''Everyone knows what needs doing?'' Jack said.
''Every year, students throw the same debate. Kids with franchise defending the status quo. Kids from the other side of town pointing out why it can't go on this way. Lots of ideas for working the change. Some want just one big happy parliament, like so many other planets have. That kind of frightens a lot of folks. Big changes tend to.
''So others suggest more of the same. The Spanish should have their own house. And the Turks. Or maybe them and the Arabs. Or maybe not. You begin to see the problem. The African's want theirs, of course. And you don't dare do something like this without giving the Japanese their say-so. What with Yamato looking out for all the sons of Nippon in space, you can't short them. Oh, and then we need one for everyone who isn't covered. Oh, and where do the Filipinos fit, Spanish or other. Or…?''
Gramma Ruth shrugged. ''Once you set the wheel in motion, figuring out where to stop gets awfully hard.''
''So people who have the franchise figure better the devil you know,'' Kris said.
''But they aren't paying the devil's piper,'' Penny added.
''And nothing gets done,'' Jack finished.
''Until the wheels come off,'' Gramma pointed out. ''And you got to admire how well Eden is doing, keeping folks in the dark about how wobbly those wheels are. Lot of my franchised students never had a serious talk with someone who wasn't, until they got to my class. It's an eye-opening experience, let me tell you.''
Kris mulled that over while she took another nibble at her lunch. It was really quite good. It was just that her appetite had done a vanishing act. She'd have to give this place another chance when she could concentrate on the food.
''What would have happened,'' she said slowly, ''if we hadn't caught that bomb yesterday? What if it had gotten who it was intended to? That looked like a very prestigious cavalcade.''
''The papers would have said nothing,'' Ruth said, munching something that she'd unwrapped from a grape leaf.
''And the dead,'' Kris said, reaching for one of the fig-wrapped items.
''Heart attack, poor dear. Didn't get him to the hospital on time. Or one of those rare, untreatable cancers. Or maybe a skiing accident. Amazing the number of eighty-year-old types who take up skiing late in life.''
''Here on Eden!'' Kris said.
''That's true,'' Nelly said. ''I've just checked the database. Kris, the most likely cause of death for people in business or government is heart attack, cancer, or skiing. Five times the planet's average for people not in those lines of work.''
''How many skiers died the day after our little shoot-out?'' Jack asked.
''None,'' Nelly reported. ''However, a large helicopter went down. It was taking twelve people to ski in Aspen.''
''Nelly,'' Gramma Ruth said with an impish grin. ''Could you tell me how many of them had ever been skiing before?''
''No.'' The computer's response actually sounded like a whimper. ''On just about any other planet I could. Not on Eden. Here databases are a babble.''
Before Nelly could go into depth on that, Gramma Ruth succeeded in cutting her off. ''I know. I've had Trudy send me the best hacking and cracking gear she has. No go. This place is locked down tight.''
''You know my Aunt Tru?'' Kris asked.
''Since long before you were born. We owe each other a life several times over. I've forgotten who's ahead at the moment.''
Kris nodded, taking in the quiet statement of life on the line time after time, and death just one misstep away. But Gramma Ruth had lived to sport all those gray hairs. And Tru was enjoying her retirement. Or near retirement. Or maybe not retirement. Last Kris had heard, Tru was heading for Alien 1.
''So,'' Kris said thoughtfully, ''we all agree Eden has a problem and needs to change. Most folks even seem to know how.''
''Though there are the usual suspects who like the way things are and won't take kindly to messing with how it is, was, and ever should be their way,'' Gramma Ruth cut in.
''Isn't it always.'' Kris sighed. ''But what's one young Longknife supposed to do? Grampa Ray can't expect me to snap my fingers and change this planet. I don't change planets.''
''I know a few that might disagree,'' Penny said dryly.
''Want me to name them,'' Jack added with a grin.
''But all of them were already headed downhill and in a hurry. All I did was nudge them a bit here. Maybe a bit more there. I affected what happened. I didn't make it happen.''
Jack and Penny thought for a moment, then nodded agreement.
Gramma Ruth munched away for a minute on her lunch, then patted her lips and laid her napkin down. ''You know, there's a reason why folks don't like change. You start to change a bit, you never can tell where you're going to end up. History is full of changes that started out good, then went bad. People who got a ball rolling, then found that some thugs—Robespierre, Lenin—grabbed it and ran off with it where nobody wanted to go, where no reasonable person would want.''
Gramma Ruth eyed them for a moment. ''The problem when you've got all the news scrubbed down to just the nice is that you don't know who the players are. I don't. Do you, Kris?''
And with that unsettling thought, they parted company.
A fourth rig joined them for the ride back to campus. It worried Kris a bit, but not for long. When they stopped at Gramma Ruth's apartment, three Marines dismounted. Not uniformed Marines, but individuals in civilian clothes that were way too clean-cut and ramrod straight to be students.
Gramma Ruth spotted them at once. She gave them a cheery wave, then waved at her own hired guard. The guards took a long look at the Marines.
Kris was gone before the next act of that play.
For once, Kris hoped the afternoon bargaining went long. She needed time. She and Nelly needed a serious research session. If the ambassador had plans for Kris's evening, he would find one princess who'd learned to say no. After all, she'd said it a lot at the bargaining table.
Abby intercepted Kris on her way to rejoin her team. ''Your Highness, boss, and lord, I've been trying to take some time ever since you landed. You mind if I take the evening off?''
''You can have the afternoon, too,'' Kris said. ''I am not going out tonight. And I still remember how to fill my own tub. You go look up your mommy or daddy or ex-boyfriend or whoever it is you want to see here.''
''I'll give them all a hug from you,'' Abby said, as dry as any bone.
15
Abby found that the old neighborhood had changed a lot…and not changed at all.
Tram Line 79 no longer went to Five Corners. It was now Line 128. But the tram Abby rode in could have been the same one she rode out fifteen years ago. She was tempted to peel off the layers of graffiti to find what it had sported back then.