''Where are you?''
''That's not something we need to talk about just now. But someone I'm talking to just told me something about the approaching luxury liners that I thought you might like to know.''
''Luxury liners?''
''Yeah, the ones transmitting love letters,'' Kris said, trying to use code obvious to her brother but not-something that would attract the attention of search bots.
''Oh, those liners.'' Brother might be slow; he wasn't dumb.
''Seems the recording media they use was all made by Peterwald Computing Unlimited.''
''Them,'' Honovi said, not repeating a word that might raise a flag to the wrong searchers.
''Yep. Grampa Al thought they might have an oar in our troubled waters. Here's another vote for that.''
''Father won't be happy to hear about that.''
''How are things going on that?''
''Not as well as I might wish. Father is insisting on calling a session of the ‘old folks' home.' Obviously the new guy doesn't want to. Knows he can't face a vote. Father is leading a march on the ‘old folks' home.' He's got a lot of members behind him, a majority. The new guy will have to do something.''
''What?''
''I only wish I knew. This is a horrible situation. Remember how old Doc Meade used to say we'd chosen the worst of the British model?''
Kris did; she hadn't agreed with her political science professor. If the opposition managed to bring down a government, it was only fair that they had to either form a government or hold the hot potato until after elections. But he'd brought up hypothetical situations—none of them as bad as the present—and argued the old government should be left in place until a new one took over. ''The British Empire survived two hundred years on old Earth doing it that way. Mark my words, sooner or later, our chickens are going to come home to roost.''
Next time Kris was around Wardhaven U, she'd have to look up Doc Meade and tell him she'd met his chickens—and they weighed in at a hundred thousand tons.
If she ever made it back to her old college.
''So, what will you do now?'' Kris asked her brother.
''Get back to the head of this line and say a word to Father. Keep him from digging this hole he's in any deeper. Father knows he's right and the new guy's wrong, but the other guy holds all the cards at the moment. Being right and powerless is not a good combination. Meek would do just fine right about now, but your father does not do humble pie at all well.''
''My father!''
''Well, he's certainly not acting like my father, that calm, cool, collected, and consummate politician.''
''Love you, Brother. Take care of things at your end.''
''What end are you taking care of?''
''You know that little ‘yacht' of mine I showed you around?'' Kris said, using the newsies' derogatory name for the PFs.
''Good God, woman, you're not up there, I mean around there.''
''Selfsame.''
''That's suicide.''
''I don't think so, not if I can help it. Besides, Brother, if you and Father can get your act together, remember, the alternative is either throwing in the towel or sending out the Davids to take on the … ah … big things.''
''Sweet Jesus, Sister, you almost make me want to lose this.''
''You can't lose, Brother. I'm counting on you. Unless you can pull something out of your political top hat, I'll be leading out a bunch of rebels. Don't make us be rebels against what we're fighting to defend. Please don't do that to us.''
''Sorry, Sis. I hadn't thought that through. Dear God, what a mess we're in.''
''In spades. Brother, you do your job. I'll do mine.''
'' ‘Bye, I got to run. Catch us on-screen.'' And he was gone.
Kris hung up, glanced around. ''What news do you have?''
''Three takes,'' Sandy said. The Duty Lieutenant turned them on. All three showed the Parliament Building. Scores walked. No, the camera on one screen panned back, and Kris could easily count hundreds of somber men and women in the old-fashioned suits customary to those who held seats in Parliament. Yep, Father had well over half of the members behind him. He marched at their head up the fifty steps leading to the formidable oak doors that were always open when Parliament was in session.
Today they were closed.
Father reached the top of the stairs and quickly crossed to the doors. They refused to open for him. With full drama, he pounded on them. They stayed closed. He turned to face the gathering throng of members and newsies, an old-fashioned piece of paper pulled from his pocket the only notes he'd need for what Kris knew would be one barn burner of a speech.
And Honovi caught up with him. Brother stood close and whispered something in Father's ear. The waiting media tried to capture it, but all they got was a soft buzzing. Honovi had taken the unusual step of turning on his jammer. Father must have noticed; he snapped something at his son.
''Your old man don't like your brother using a jammer, do he?'' Beni said, grinning.
''No, Father truly believes that government should be transparent. What you see should be what you get.'' Course, what you didn't see was wide open.
Honovi didn't budge. He kept the jammer on, and he kept talking. After a moment, Father put on his seriously listening face. Not the one that showed he was listening to you, but the one that meant he was hearing every word you were saying. He actually let a frown cross his face.
Father never frowned. ''Who wants to vote for a gloomy Gus,'' was his constant warning to Kris when she was new to the campaign trail at four, six. Father's frown got very deep before he nodded and let Honovi move behind him. When he faced the newsies again, he stuffed the notes of his prepared speech in his pocket. Face deadly serious, he took a deep breath.
''My fellow citizens, these are strange and perilous times, but you don't need me to tell you that. It's pretty clear to anyone with eyes to see. Ears to hear.
''These unique times call for unique measures, from you, and from those you have called upon to govern you. I came here today thinking that all of these fine people with me could jump-start the wheel of government turning.'' He turned to glance over his shoulder.
''It's pretty clear we can't.
''But as much as I'd like to hear from you, the people, the elections aren't until next week, and those ships demanding our surrender and threatening horrible destruction if we refuse, will be here in just three days.
''We need a government now.
''My son,'' he said, turning to Honovi, ''a more educated man than me, tells me that back on Earth, in perilous times such as we face, they would form governments of national unity, governments where political gain was put aside when national survival was at stake.
''Mojag Pandori,'' Billy Longknife, the consummate politician, said, waving across the street toward Government House, ''it is time we tear down the wall that we have built between us.
''Mojag Pandori, I call upon you to meet with me by noon tomorrow so that we can work out the necessary procedures for forming a coalition government so Wardhaven may face this time of crisis not divided by its past but united for its future.
''Mojag Pandori, I stand prepared to make any concessions necessary during this critical period so that we can put our people's interests first where they must be. Have to be, if there is to be any Wardhaven interests at all in the future.
''Thank you, my fellow citizens, and may God help us all.''
Applause swept the steps of the Parliament Building. Beside Kris, Sandy brought her hands together and slowly clapped. So did the Duty Lieutenant. The 1/c sat at his station, mouth open.
''He did that with no notes. I mean, I heard you talking to your brother. I saw your brother talk to your dad, but you mean to tell me that in the time it took those two to talk, and him to face the camera, he came up with that?'' the enlisted man said, eyeing Kris in disbelief.