''We're out of food.'' Kris knew that was coming; she nodded. The woman's words stumbled on. ''We've been buying food from this Navy man, but we're out of money.''
''Third-class petty officer?'' Kris asked, remembering what she'd heard about the warehouse leadership. The woman shrugged; rates were a mystery to civilians. Kris wondered if she could arrange a lineup but suspected the culprit would be long gone, if he hadn't managed to ship out on the Hussy yesterday. No, Kris's problem was how to go forward, not look back. She wiped the rain from her face as she puzzled her problem. She was here to feed people, but she couldn't just hand out food. Obviously someone had been, for a price. But I'm a Longknife. Oh joy.
''Nelly, who can hire local civilians on missions like this?''
''Nongovernmental organizations are the usual employers of the local labor forces.'' The woman listened, dripping in the rain, as Kris continued her conversation with her assisting AI.
''Do we have any here?''
''No.''
Not a surprise. This place was the inglorious hind end of everything. But Kris had volunteered as a counselor for a handicapped kids' summer camp her freshman year in college. She'd gotten them their tax-exempt status. ''Nelly, what does it take to set up an NGO?''
''I have just completed the paperwork to set one up. Before I send them off world for registration, what should I name it?''
''Nelly, you're wonderful,'' Kris grinned, and the woman across from her actually cracked a chip of a smile. ''Make it the Ruth Edris Fund for Displaced Farmers,'' Kris said. Now, that would make her great-grandmother's day.
''I went to school with a girl named Ruth Edris,'' the woman muttered, ''a long time ago on Hurtford. We were fun kids, then.''
''I hear Granny Ruth still is. She was from Hurtford, a long time before I was born. Nelly, are those papers served?''
''Done. How large do I endow this fund?''
''What would I have to pay you to do what you're already doing?'' Kris asked Ester.
''If you feel you must pay me, I am willing to work for an Earth dollar a month,'' the woman answered. Kris tried not to show a reaction to that. With just a week's earnings from her trust fund she could probably hire every person on this planet for a year. Nelly's last upgrade had taken two months' worth of income, and that in Wardhaven dollars.
''I can get volunteers to work for free,'' the woman went on, mistaking Kris's silence for disapproval. ''If you arrange the release of food to the soup kitchens, a lot of men will work for you. Not just my church's kitchen. There are many others in town.''
''I think we have a deal,'' Kris said quickly to reassure the woman. Then she added subvocally to Nelly, ''Put a hundred thousand in it for starters.'' To the woman, Kris continued, ''Let me run this by my boss. Nelly, page the Colonel.''
''Hancock,'' came from Kris's commlink a moment later.
''Colonel, Ensign Longknife here. I need some more advice.''
''And you expect good advice from me?'' Kris ignored the question and quickly ran down what she'd done.
''This displaced farmer fund is a legitimate NGO?'' he asked as she finished.
''I have it on the best legal advice,'' she said, grinning at Ester. The old woman did smile this time.
''Yeah, we can release food to soup kitchens, food banks, and the likes, so long as we've got some NGO vouching for their legitimacy. This gig ain't the most popular show on Earth, so you may have noted the lack of media coverage and NGOs. If you got one, do it, Ensign,'' and he tapped out.
Kris pulled a Wardhaven dollar coin from her pocket and handed it to Ester. ''I guess that makes you the fund's first employee. You know anyone else who might help me?''
Ester glanced around; a man stepped forward. His boots had holes in the top of them; his pants were soaked. ''Name's Jebadiah Salinski. Jeb to most. I was a foreman at this transfer station before the rains came and management hightailed it off planet. I see your guys lugging bags of beans around. I know the folks who used to work here. We know where the lifts and carts are, though they don't work so good since the rains came. Acid rain damaged them, the boss said before he ran.''
''You're hired,'' Kris said and fished in her pocket for another dollar. Like the prime minister, Kris always carried a couple of dollar coins. You could never tell when you'd want a soda and the net would be down. As she hired her second employee, she asked, ''Either of you know anyone who used to work at the hotel that's our barracks?''
''Millie uZigoto was the head housekeeper there,'' Ester said. ''When people quit coming, the hotel folded, managers left.''
''Sounds like a lot of people left?''
''Not a lot. Only all who could.''
''Well, for those still here, this is the drill.'' Kris rushed out her words before anyone could change their mind. ''The pay's a dollar a month.'' Kris handed her third and last dollar to Ester. ''Give that one to Millie. The rest will have to wait a while for pay. Also, they get all they and their family can eat at the nearest soup kitchen. That sound like a fair deal?''
Ester and Jeb glanced around at the others standing farther back in the rain. Here a head nodded a bit, a finger twitched, a hand raised a little. They came forward when Jeb motioned them in. Under Ester and Jeb's direction they began hand-unloading the just-landed supplies. A check of the three trucks in the yard turned up only one that worked.
Kris tapped her commlink. ''Tom, how's the barracks?''
''Lousy. Kris, I couldn't keep my room clean in an environmental- and humidity-controlled asteroid station. How am I supposed to clean up this place?''
''I think our local nongovernmental agency just hired someone to take over the barracks for you.''
''I didn't know there were any NGOs here.''
''Wasn't this morning. Is one now.''
''Why do I so not want to know how that happened?''
''Just pray to your ancestors and Saint Patrick that Hancock is happy not knowing, too. Now, I've got three trucks out here, and only one will turn over. I've got lifters and loaders damaged by the acid rain. You got any ideas about how to cure them?''
''Probably damaged their solar panels. Don't have much sun to start with, got to make good use of what you got. I could probably reprogram the nanos I've got keeping my brightwork shiny to rework the solar panels.''
''You're using nanos to polish your uniform brass?''
''Of course, doesn't everyone?'' came back pure startlement.
Kris rolled her eyes at the sky…and got rain in them for her dramatics. Blinking, she turned back to her commlink.
''Tomorrow morning, Tom, you turn over the barracks to someone who knows them, and you get your tail over here and put your leprechauns to work on my broken gear.''
''I'll bring the ancestors' kami along, too.''
''Believe me, we need all the miracles you can spare.''
The lone truck was loaded. Kris peeled off three armed, able spacers to guard the cargo while they dropped off food at the kitchens Ester listed. Ester promised to get the guards back unharmed and before dark. The spacers might be the ones carrying M-6s, but they looked much relieved by the woman's assurance of safety. With all her pocket change gone, Kris had Nelly arrange to ship in a box of Wardhaven dollars with each relief ship, inconspicuous like, and finished the day feeling pretty good.
The next morning started bad and got worse. First, for Millie uZigoto to take over managing the hotel required a meeting with both the Colonel and Lieutenant Pearson. The Colonel immediately went on record as not caring who did it, so long as barracks got cleaned. Pearson insisted on a signed contract and only withdrew her long list of objections when it became clear that this service was being provided under the Society's Apprentice Training Volunteer Program and no Navy appropriation would be tapped.
Nelly's fast law search found that bit of legal fiction while Kris stalled. The Colonel seemed to be enjoying himself immensely as Kris tap-danced around Pearson's opposition.