Vortex (14 page)

"My fault," Alex said as he leaned a shoulder into a cop and sent him tumbling against his mates. His arm swept back in awed reaction to his own clumsiness. Another cop went sailing. "Och! Thae must've smarted. F'rgive me, lad."

"Coming through," Sten shouted. A knee lifted and caught a crouching cop in the behind. The cop went mask first into the ground. "Sorry about that. Imperial business, you know."

A thick cop arm circled Otho's neck. Two more came at him, riot sticks raised to strike. "By my mother's beard," he said, "my boot wants tying again." He leaned forward to do the deed, and the cop went sailing over his head—right into his charging colleagues.

Someone had Cind by the shirt. A big someone. She jabbed him in the eye with a finger. The big someone howled in pain and let loose. "I don't know what's wrong with me today," Cind said. "I'm so clumsy."

A Suzdal snapped at Chittahang Limbu. The little Gurkha grabbed it by the ear just as the jaws reached his throat. He twisted. The Suzdal went with the twist, tumbling over into his pack sisters. "I am such a silly man today," Chittahang mourned. Then, under his breath, he muttered, "Yak pube."

"Make way! Imperial business! Make way!" Sten shouted. Remarkably, it was working. Most of the cops parted to let them through. Those that didn't got an elbow or a heavy Bhor slap.

Alex came upon two cops beating the bejabbers out of a small student. Without pause, he lifted them from the ground and slammed them together. He let go. They fell to the ground. Unconscious.

"Och, no. Ah hope Ah dinnae go an' break y'r wee heads. Sten'll hae m' hide f'r it." He moved on.

Otho and four Bhor broke through to the statue. They turned—like living armored tracks—sweeping a wide, clear space around them. A few seconds later, Sten was in the center of the clear space. A few seconds more, and the whole group had taken up formation around him.

Sten looked up at Milhouz. The young Jochian's jowls were flushed with astonishment.

"Sorry I'm a little late," Sten said. "Now. If you'll give me that thing, I'll have a little chat with these good people."

He indicated the porta boom in Milhouz's hand. The young Jochian stared at him, mouth open. Then he nodded and handed Sten the boomer.

"I can't believe you did that," he said.

"Neither can I," Sten said. And he turned to face his public.

"First… we demand respect for the dignity of all species of the Altaic Cluster," Milhouz said, stabbing a finger at the document that he and his fellow students had drawn up.

"I don't think anyone would argue with that," Sten said. He glanced around the cafeteria table at the other student leaders. They were all very young, all very solemn.

Strange, Sten thought, how much youthful beings looked alike. Whether Suzdal, Bogazi, or human, they had those great wide innocent eyes and round helpless faces. Terminally cute, Sten thought. Which, come to think of it, was an odd bit of universal genetic programming. The probable reason parents didn't kill their young at birth.

"Second," Milhouz continued, jowls flapping like a small, burrowing rodent, "the equality of all species must be the cornerstone of the future government.''

"The Emperor's record is pretty clear on that,'' Sten said dryly. "He's a noted champion of equality."

"Still must be said," the Bogazi student broke in. Her name, Sten remembered, was Nirsky. From the way the other Bogazi males fawned on her, he assumed she was pretty.

"Then, say away," Sten said.

Milhouz cleared his throat for attention. "Third. All militias must return to their home worlds. Forthwith."

"I suspect that will be high on the agenda of any new authority," Sten said.

"You're patronizing us," Milhouz complained.

"Not at all," Sten said. "I'm merely underscoring a fact." He kept his features bland.

"No one ever listens," the Suzdal yipped. He had been introduced to Sten as Tehrand.

"Yes. That's right. We stayed up all night hammering out these demands." The speaker was a Tork. A very lovely Tork, who obviously doted on young Milhouz. Her name was Riehl.

"I'm listening," Sten said. "I went to some trouble to get here, remember? Now, why don't you go on?"

"Fourth," Milhouz continued, "we demand amnesty for all students at Pooshkan who participated in this blow for freedom. And this must include us—the members of the Action Committee."

"I'll do my best," Sten said, meaning it.

"Not good enough," Nirsky said. "Promise, you must."

"Promises are easy to make," Sten said, "but hard to secure. Once again—I'll do my best."

Milhouz's face took on a look of saintly purity. "I'm willing to take my chances," he said. "I'd gladly lay down my life for my ideals."

"Let's not get carried away," Sten said. "No one's life is at issue here. All I'm saying is when the new government is in place, some people might not take too kindly to the damage you've caused.

"There may be charges. Fines. A little jail time at the most. Which, by the way, I'll do my damndest to prevent. But they may not listen to me. So, be prepared."

Squabbling erupted. Sten leaned back in his chair as the students tossed his comments back and forth. Tehrand shot him a threatening look, Suzdal teeth gleaming. Sten paid him no mind, just as he ignored the thirty or more other students in the room, many of whom were also giving him the evil eye.

Although he had elected to meet with the group alone, he doubted there was much they could do that he couldn't handle, should the situation turn nasty.

"I'm sorry," Milhouz finally said, "but that demand is not negotiable."

"What if it's refused?" Sten asked.

"We'll burn the university to the ground," Riehl said, her pretty features flushed with resolve.

"I wouldn't advise that," Sten said. "In fact, I really wish you'd consider making no threats at all. It'll give me more leeway to negotiate with the police."

"One week only," Nirsky said. "Then burn we must."

"We all agreed," Tehrand said. "We voted on it."

"So have another vote," Sten said. "You can say it's in light of new factors Sr. Sten has brought to your attention."

"Democracy doesn't work that way. All votes are final," Milhouz said pompously. "Which brings us to the next and most important demand…

"The rule of the Khaqans must end. In fact, the rule of any form of tyranny must end. We demand a new order. Only through democracy can the problems of the Altaics be finally resolved!"

"To further this end," Riehl said, "we have drawn up a list of candidates acceptable to the Pooshkan Action Committee."

"Hold on," Sten said. "Tell me more about this 'approved' list. Doesn't sound too democratic to me."

"Oh, but it is," Milhouz said. "In its purest sense."

"And he doesn't mean that primitive theory where
every
being gets to vote, no matter how… undeserving." Riehl gave Milhouz a melting look. Sten figured Milhouz for the list of the "deserving."

"I see," Sten said. He made diplomatic
hmmm
noises. "How interesting you should think that way."

"Good. You understand my point," Milhouz said, taking this for acceptance. "Let's be frank. Most beings—meaning the, well, uneducated classes—want to be told what to do." He leaned forward, impassioned. "They feel… uncomfortable with weighty decisions. They want structure in their lives. It makes them…"

"Comfortable," Sten helped.

"How astute of you, Sr. Ambassador. Yes. That's the word exactly. Comfortable. And happy, as well."

"Educated ones know best," Nirsky said.

"A long-known fact," Tehrand yipped.

"There can be no tyranny if you have an educated elite, is what Milhouz says. Isn't that right, de—ahhh. Isn't that right?" Riehl blushed at almost revealing her feelings.

Milhouz gave her a warm pat on the thigh, letting his hand linger. "Yes. I did say… something like that. But, I'm no genius. Others mine the same field." He gave Sten a very solemn look. "So the thought isn't entirely original."

"How very modest of you," Sten said.

"Thank you, Ambassador. Anyway… back to the point of our… manifesto. We believe the new leaders of the Altaics should be chosen from all the great families of the cluster. The most educated Suzdals, Torks, Bogazi, and Jochians—like myself.''

"Would success at this university help in their… qualifications?" Sten ventured.

"There is no greater laboratory of learning than Pooshkan University. So… that goes without saying."

"I should have guessed. How foolish of me," Sten said.

"Although we do see a great need for improvements here," Riehl said. "Many of the courses are… incorrect in their thinking."

"I assume the overhaul of the university is also among your demands?" Sten asked.

"Absolutely."

"And you'll burn the university if they don't?"

"Yes. Who to stop us?" the Bogazi said. "My brood most important. If someone hurt me—much trouble."

"The same with all of us," Riehl said. "It's a good thing for those cops that you came along. If they had done something stupid… why, our families would have destroyed them all. Believe me."

Milhouz handed Sten the sheaf of paper that was the Action Committee's manifesto. "Those are our demands. Take them… or leave them."

Sten drew the moment out very long. "Then… I'm leaving," he finally said. And he rose to go.

The room erupted in total panic.

"Wait," Milhouz said. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the embassy," Sten told him. "I'm no good here. Besides, this is really none of my business. It's definitely a local problem. So… if you'll forgive me… I'll go watch what happens to you next on my livie screen. With a nice stiff drink to warm my belly."

"But you can't leave!" Riehl shouted, nearly in tears.

"Watch me," Sten said.

"But police will—"

"Kill all of you," Sten said. "They're pretty mad. I don't think it'll take much to set them off. Your pedigree will probably just make them madder. You know how cops get? Touchy. Very touchy.

"Funny, isn't it? You people think you're rioting. But the cops riot instead. Happens every time."

"What do you want from us?'' Milhouz wailed. His jowls were white with fear.

Sten turned at the door. "Better question. What do you really want? And don't give me that manifesto business."

There was total silence.

"I'll tell you what," Sten said. "I'll see if somebody will talk to you. Give your views a fair hearing."

"Someone… important?" Milhouz asked.

"Yeah. Someone important."

"A public hearing?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"We want witnesses," Tehrand yipped.

"I'll ask," Sten said. "Now… will that do? A fair hearing of all your views. To be taken into account by decision-making people. Okay?"

Milhouz glanced around and saw slight nods of heads. "It's agreed," he said.

"Good." Sten headed for the door.

"But… if they don't at least listen…" Milhouz was trying to pull some pride in for the group.

"You'll burn the university to the ground," Sten finished for him.

"In one week!" Milhouz snapped.

"I'll keep that in mind." And Sten was gone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
ten returned to the embassy in a mood that could only be livened by a few ax murders.

He took one look at that lying diplomatic note still only half-written and sent the burn pad spinning across the room.

Juvenile as all hell. Also, not nearly satisfying enough.

He thought about kicking the desk over but caught himself in time, considering the mass of that enormous wooden block big enough for the Khaqan's tastes and noting, also, that its legs already were scarred, trophies of previous ambassadorial self-mutilations undoubtedly resulting from dealing with the charming, altruistic, visionary residents of the Altaic Cluster.

Sten next thought of ordering Admiral Mason to his quarters in hopes of provoking an off-the-record punchup but settled instead for a loud feral growl, aimed out the sealed window at the slamming rain from the storm that had settled in over Rurik.

There was a chortle.

And a giggle.

Sten did not turn.

"An' dinnae y' hae pity ae th' lad," Alex's voice crooned. "Discoverin't he's th' wee one whae hae Imperial custody ae an entire
cluster
ae Campbells?"

"And this," Cind said, her voice equally sincere, "is the brave Sten. The great warrior I grew up worshiping. The man, legend had it, that led all of the beings in the Lupus Cluster to peace and plentitude, never losing the smile on his lips or the song in his heart."

Sten still did not turn.

"Is there one clottin' being in this whole clottin' cluster who isn't out to clottin' murder every other clottin' being?" he demanded. "Is there clottin'
anybody
, from these pampered apparatchik fools who think they're innalekchuls and students to those clots running around with their clotting private armies to these clotting imbeciles who're trying to play button, button, who's going to wear the clotting throne to this clotting imbecile Iskra that our Eternal Clotting—'' He broke off, found out that his lungs were pumped airless, inhaled, then went on, a bit more carefully, considering Cind's presence: "—that we're supposed to hand the clotting keys to the clotting kingdom to, is there
anybody
who has one lousy cc of the milk of human kindness hidden somewhere about his/her/whoever's person?''

"Tsk," Alex mourned. "Th' clottin' language. In frae of a clottin' laird an' all."

"Somebody pour me a drink."

"Not yet, skipper. P'raps y' dinnae want alk runnin' aroun' y'r system."

Sten finally turned around. Both Cind and Kilgour were wearing Jochi civilian clothes. Poor-people-type civilian clothes. Dark colored.

They had Jochi cloaks over their arms.

Even more interesting, both of them were wearing combat vests. Each vest held a small com link, a cut-barreled, collapsing-stock willygun in an underarm sling, two spare magazines of the ultra-lethal AM2 rounds, and a sheathed combat knife. The vests would be invisible under the cloaks.