Intrepid

Kris eyed the descending guides. NELLY, PLEASE MATCH THESE GREAT GUIDES AGAINST THE ONES RUNNING THIS SHOW BEFORE THEY LIT OUT FROM HUMAN SPACE.

THEY DO NOT MATCH. NONE OF THESE TEN WERE AMONG THOSE TWELVE.

Which leaves two that could match, but Kris wouldn't take a bet on them. And which set of Guides had decided the good aliens were angels. How bloody had been the change in revelation.

Kris knew politics could become a blood sport. Her father had kept it otherwise … most of the time. Apparently, when angels talked directly to you, things could go real bad.

The slab of marble, or at least what looked like one, settled twenty meters from Kris. The twelve thrones were just about ready to touch down. The steam dissipated, letting Kris spot the supporting cables on the slab and chairs. Nelly estimated they could support no more than 125 kilos except for the overweight man who sat in the middle. He had double cabling.

They were not quite down when Kris took the lead. ''Hi, folks. I'm glad you could find time in your busy day to meet with me. I represent King Raymond I, monarch of one hundred and twelve planets, and I'm here to open relationships with Xanadu.'' Kris blessed them with her best princess smile.

Nothing happened while the thrones settled into place behind the fake marble. Nothing happened while the fat man in the middle studied Kris for a long moment through small beady eyes.

''You do not speak to us,'' he growled. ''We speak to you, and you answer only when it is our wish for you.''

''You did notice the Marines lining your sacred precinct, didn't you?'' Kris said.

''I could tell them to leave, and they would obey me.''

''You might want to double-check that, fellow. Your ‘I believe anything' juice is pretty out-of-date.''

''You there,'' he said, waving at Jack. ''Leave us.''

Jack's right hand went to rest on his holster. He shook his head. ''Sorry, Charley, it ain't gonna happen.''

''Let me tell you what is going to happen,'' Kris said, casually settling to a half-sitting position on their rail. ''Humanity is set to do another spread out. You're only two jumps from Cuzco, so it's not going to be very long before there's a lot of traffic through your system. You are soon going to go public in a big way.''

''I told them we should have moved farther out,'' a woman said, three down from the big guy in the middle.

''Cuzco was growing like a weed even before we moved here,'' said a man on the opposite side.

''They began the migration eighty years ago. It was too late to change,'' put in another beside him.

''Silence!'' said beady eyes.

Kris spoke into the sudden quiet. ''You have only two choices. You can profit from the traffic through your jump points in the usual ways, providing reaction mass, food, and cross shipments from a space station you really need to build.''

''Or?'' he asked.

''Or someone else will build a space station above you and see that trade is properly supported.''

''And if we do not want to trade with the rest of you?''

''That really isn't an option,'' Kris said flatly.

''You demand that we join in your king's hundred-and-twelve-planet association,'' the woman guide said.

''Oh no, you totally misunderstand me on that,'' Kris moved quickly to correct. ''No planet may join United Sentients that is not acceptable to all the other members. And no planet without a democratic government has been invited in. There's no question about your joining King Raymond's United Sentients. What we cannot allow you to become is either a rogue state or a resource for fitting out piracy to prey on the rest of humanity.''

''And if we choose to have nothing to do with your humanity?''

''I really don't see how that can happen.''

''I think maybe we should think on this,'' said the guy who had complained about the eighty-year effort to build Xanadu.

''I'd be glad to leave you for a month,'' Kris said.

''Then we will have a message for you in a month,'' the speaker said.

Kris stood, gave him a regal nod, then led her team out. The Marines performed a smooth retrograde, and in only a few minutes Kris was walking down the street she'd just walked up. Somehow, Prometheus detached himself, leaving Kris with more questions than why everyone was running around in bed-sheets.

The pirateship Compton Maru claimed it had just called on Xanadu. Had it? Was that the level of outside contact the Guides were maintaining? This visit had answered none of those, and Kris wasn't interested in hanging around.

* * *

Hercules shushed the other guides as their thrones disappeared below the sacred precincts. They had learned the hard way about the tiny listening devices that were so popular in human space. If they hadn't gotten a spacer drunk, they would have been taken even more advantage of by the last few star-ships through. Now, he and the other guides stripped, turned their robes over to security, and washed themselves thoroughly before submitting themselves for scanning by their own electronics experts.