News from Missouri
Oakmont–Verona–Plum Development Site, Pennsylvania May 15, 2440, 9:14 PM Former Pittsburgh Airport Staging Area
The first day’s bombardment was finished, and S’rethi had finally agreed that the mountains could remain where she’d left them until morning.
The family was gathered around the table in their shuttle’s living module. Dinner was over, though M’ren was still working on a second helping, and D’vann had made tea.
Outside, the meadow was quiet. Far upstream, thousands of drones continued surveying the shattered hills.
D’vann was reading the news.
“Apparently, Amazon has only just discovered that it doesn’t own His Lordship.”
S’rethi glanced up from her tablet.
“That’s unfortunate. I thought he had explained that rather thoroughly.”
“He did. Apparently, it requires further explanation.”
“What now?” R’alen asked.
“An article in The Financial Record. Amazon has created an executive it may no longer be able to control.”
T’ira laughed.
“Created?”
“An interesting choice of words, isn’t it?”
“Did they not know he was Freeholder when they employed him?”
“They certainly did,” D’vann said.
“And they knew he’d already been dealing with our people?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are they complaining about?”
“According to the article, Amazon cannot remove him from his other positions, cannot revoke his personal relationships with V’ren leadership, and cannot replace him without considerable embarrassment.”
S’rethi set down her tablet.
“That seems an excellent description of why they wanted him in the first place.”
“Which is more or less what he said.”
D’vann turned his display around.
“Somebody asked whether he wanted to become Amazon’s chief executive.”
R’alen leaned forward.
“Does he?”
“Read his answer.”
R’alen looked at the screen and began laughing.
“Ain’t no fucking way.”
M’ren nearly spilled her drink.
“What?”
“That’s his answer.”
T’vessa reached across the table.
“Let me see.”
R’alen continued.
“I already have too many jobs.”
“That’s true,” M’ren said.
“You’ve known him for ten days,” T’ira observed.
“And he’s had too many jobs for all ten.”
D’vann reclaimed his tablet.
“Adrian can keep that shit.”
S’rethi laughed.
“Well, there’s a man who knows his own mind.”
“He goes on to explain that Amazon hired him knowing he was Freeholder, and that our people had already selected him as a liaison.”
“And that was before he became High Lord,” R’alen said.
“Precisely,” his father answered. “Amazon didn’t appoint a High Lord to run its Alien Affairs office. It appointed Matthew Marmaduke, who subsequently became High Lord.”
“Poor Amazon,” T’ira said.
“Indeed.”
T’vessa had been reading the comments.
“K’rem has responded.”
“Oh?” S’rethi asked.
“Humans appear unusually concerned that one capable person may perform more than one duty. We are not.”
D’vann grinned.
“That sounds like K’rem.”
“He’s not wrong,” S’rethi said.
R’alen considered the article.
“Amazon isn’t entirely wrong either. A person can have conflicting obligations.”
“Certainly,” D’vann said. “But in this case the man told them what his obligations were before they hired him. They’ve hardly been deceived.”
“And he’s not terribly subtle about it,” T’ira added.
“No,” S’rethi agreed. “I don’t believe subtlety is one of his preferred methods of communication.”
M’ren looked up from her own tablet.
“Emily says the first time Amazon tried ordering him around, he told their computer to go away and put a person on.”
T’vessa laughed.
“That’s not quite what he said.”
“It’s close.”
“How do you know?” R’alen asked.
“Emily Tran. I’ve told you about her.”
“The girl you met in Missouri?” S’rethi asked.
“Yes. She’s Jude’s cousin.”
T’vessa suddenly looked interested.
“Emily told you?”
“She did.”
“And what exactly did she say?”
M’ren smiled.
“That he’s been like that since the first morning.”
“Apparently,” M’ren continued, “Amazon’s computer contacted him while the Kalnareth was coming down and told him he was being recalled to military duty.”
“That seems a rather inconvenient moment,” D’vann said.
“He thought so too.”
“What did he say?” T’ira asked.
“The fuck I am. Put a person on.”
T’vessa burst out laughing.
“You’re making that up.”
“No, I’m not.”
M’ren found the exchange in her messages.
“Then a colonel came on and asked if he was refusing recall. Matt told him he hadn’t decided yet and had ninety-six hours after the call to make up his mind.”
D’vann raised an eyebrow.
“He knew the precise terms of his service contract?”
“Of course he did.”
“And then?” S’rethi asked.
“He told them he had a spaceship about to destroy his crops and possibly his house. He was willing to cooperate, but it was his show on his land.”
“That sounds familiar,” R’alen said.
“He also told them to restore his military credentials and send him all the information they had.”
D’vann laughed.
“So he disputed their authority to command him and immediately requested their intelligence?”
“Yes.”
“And they gave it to him?”
“According to the story, they did.”
S’rethi smiled.
“That’s a sensible arrangement.”
“Emily says the whole thing has been repeated so many times around the Homestead that everybody knows the words. The best part is supposed to be how he ended the call.”
“How?” T’ira asked.
“He hung up on them with one of those old-fashioned clicks.”
“What is remarkable about that?” D’vann asked.
“Apparently, the click is a feature people actually pay extra for.”
T’vessa started laughing again.
“You can buy an insulting noise for your telephone?”
“Evidently.”
“That,” D’vann said, “is a remarkable application of human engineering.”
“Emily says nobody will admit to having a recording of the conversation,” M’ren added. “Most of the people at the Homestead missed it. They’ve just heard it retold.”
“Which means,” R’alen said, “that by next month he’ll have personally threatened to shoot down the entire Amazon fleet.”
“Probably,” M’ren agreed.
D’vann was still amused.
“His Lordship has a curious way of conducting negotiations.”
“Does it work?” S’rethi asked.
“Apparently.”
“Then perhaps it isn’t so curious.”
M’ren scrolled farther down her messages.
“There’s something else. Dave Roxas asked him afterward whether Monday was his discharge anniversary. Apparently, once he’d completed twenty years, Amazon couldn’t compel him back into service or take away his citizenship for refusing.”
“He was that close?” R’alen asked.
“Two days.”
D’vann sat back.
“So Amazon’s command had a man with an alien ship about to land on his territory, an expiring recall obligation, and more useful information than anyone else on Earth.”
“And decided to cooperate,” T’ira said.
“Exactly.”
S’rethi lifted her cup.
“Quite sensible of them.”
M’ren had more to tell.
“Emily was there that morning, you know.”
“At the Homestead?” T’ira asked.
“Yes. She was one of the girls who went over to help when they realized the ship was coming down near Arrow Rock.”
“Was she frightened?” S’rethi asked.
“Of course. Everybody was. But she says the strangest part was how ordinary things were right up until the landing.”
“How ordinary?” R’alen asked.
“They were playing cards.”
D’vann looked at her.
“Cards?”
“Spades. Matt and Dave were playing with Carrie Chan and Carlos Haddad.”
“Who won?” T’ira asked.
“Emily didn’t say. Dave told a reporter that Matt bet on an almost impossible hand without even looking at his cards.”
“That seems unwise,” R’alen observed.
“Dave said it was a lesson for the younger people about never underestimating him.”
“Did they at least finish the game?” T’vessa asked.
“I don’t know.”
“A spaceship interrupts your game,” D’vann said. “An excellent excuse for losing.”
“Emily says they were also having an argument about women from old science-fiction stories.”
T’vessa looked up.
“Oh, I know about that.”
M’ren narrowed her eyes.
“From Jude?”
“Possibly.”
“Emily said Matt and Amelia were arguing about Shaak Ti and Ahsoka before Dave joined in. Then somebody brought up Claire Temple and Misty Knight, and apparently they spent quite a while arguing over which characters were better.”
“Who are these people?” S’rethi asked.
“Some of them are from Star Wars,” T’vessa said. “Jude showed me.”
“Of course he did,” R’alen muttered.
T’vessa ignored him.
“Humans have an astonishing number of arguments about things that never happened.”
D’vann looked at his wife.
“Our children have spent years arguing about fictional characters.”
“Yes,” S’rethi said. “But they’re generally better informed about them.”
M’ren grinned.
“Emily said they were still arguing when things were getting serious.”
“Perhaps it kept everyone occupied,” S’rethi said.
“She said nobody really knew what else to do until the ship landed. Some were helping prepare food. Some were moving equipment. Some were watching the news. People kept coming to the Homestead because they wanted to help.”
R’alen nodded.
“And they were afraid the ship might hit the house?”
“Dave says they were concerned enough to clear it of people.”
“Was there damage?”
“Not to the house. But the ship came down with its hull still terribly hot.”
“That would be expected,” D’vann said.
“Dave says it was around six hundred and fifty Kelvin when it landed. They were using water from the ship to keep the surrounding vegetation from burning.”
S’rethi nodded.
“The landing systems did very well under the circumstances.”
“Emily said it was almost silent,” M’ren continued. “Everybody expected an enormous noise.”
“The antigravity system,” R’alen said.
“Yes. Dave explained that too. Apparently, they felt the heat but heard very little.”
D’vann shook his head.
“I should like to have seen the faces of the people who were expecting a thunderous landing.”
“Emily says some of them just stood there staring.”
“I imagine they did,” S’rethi said.
M’ren looked down at her tablet.
“She says the thing she remembers most is that everyone was scared of something different. The house, the people inside the ship, what Amazon might do, whether there would be fighting. But everyone kept finding something to do.”
For a little while, the conversation turned to their own first day in Missouri, the first people they’d met and the foods they’d tried.
Then T’ira returned to the news.
“There’s an article here by Elise McVey.”
D’vann nodded.
“I’ve met her.”
“She’s the woman who lost her leg during a Freehold enforcement action?”
“Yes. She does overwatch now.”
T’ira read for a moment.
“She’s answering people who say His Lordship relies too heavily on personal loyalty.”
“That argument again?” R’alen asked.
“Apparently.”
“What does she say?” S’rethi asked.
“That the forty-seven people who responded to the armory call two days ago had only ten minutes to report. During an earlier call, when they had half an hour, two hundred and fifty people came.”
“That’s impressive,” D’vann said.
“She says it isn’t a measure of loyalty anyway. People have work, families, children, and responsibilities. Sometimes the best thing they can do is stay where they are.”
“That makes sense,” R’alen said.
“And only weapons-qualified citizens can join an armed response. Everyone else can help with driving, food, medical support, communications, and keeping things running.”
M’ren nodded.
“That’s what Emily and the other girls were doing when the ship landed. Whatever somebody needed.”
T’ira kept reading.
“She says the real problem is that people sometimes come when they’re told not to. Once, Angelina ordered an evacuation, and about fifteen hundred people from Arrow Rock alone tried to help anyway.”
D’vann laughed.
“That’s a management problem.”
“Why?” M’ren asked.
“Because enthusiasm isn’t useful if everyone arrives at the wrong place and gets in the way.”
“Pam had to order them elsewhere,” T’ira said.
“Then Pam understood the problem.”
S’rethi reached for the article.
“What does Elise say about why they follow him?”
T’ira found the passage.
“Because he goes with them. He doesn’t send them into danger and remain at home.”
“That’s important,” R’alen said.
“She says sometimes he goes first, whether they think he should or not.”
D’vann looked thoughtful.
“That’s considerably less reassuring.”
“Why?” M’ren asked.
“Because leaders are not easily replaced. Especially leaders whose authority is personal as well as institutional.”
“But they follow him because he goes,” T’vessa said.
“Yes. Both things can be true.”
S’rethi had reached the end.
“She’s quite clear about the distinction. Authority belongs to the office. Turnout depends on circumstances. Loyalty belongs to the man.”
“That is rather well put,” D’vann said.
“His people seem to think so.”
R’alen was reading about the rescue itself.
“Those five children are alive because humans and V’ren acted together.”
“And their mother is dead,” S’rethi said.
“Yes.”
He set the tablet down.
The family fell quiet for a moment.
M’ren was the first to speak.
“Emily says people are still talking about the V’ren woman who caught the baby Matt handed out of the fire.”
“Crell Wath,” T’ira said.
“Yes.”
“I met her,” S’rethi said. “She’s a medical orderly.”
“Do you think those children will have somewhere to live?” M’ren asked.
“I’m certain they will,” D’vann answered.
“Do they have any other family?”
“I don’t know.”
M’ren nodded and returned to her supper.
R’alen looked toward the window.
“There’s going to be a great deal of that, isn’t there?”
“Of what?” his father asked.
“People needing homes. Here, in Missouri, everywhere we’re going to build.”
“Yes,” D’vann said. “There certainly is.”
“And work.”
“Plenty of that as well.”
R’alen smiled faintly.
“Good.”
T’ira nudged him.
“You say that now. Tomorrow Mother will send you out to investigate something unpleasant underground.”
“That’s your department.”
“I can delegate.”
“Not to me.”
“You’re a qualified pilot. Surely you can fly a rover.”
“That’s not how rovers work.”
“You’ll learn.”
T’vessa had found something considerably less serious.
“Did you know the Homestead kitchen is making thirteen hundred meals an hour?”
D’vann looked up.
“An hour?”
“According to this article.”
“That’s an enormous increase,” S’rethi said.
“It used to make that many in an entire day.”
R’alen leaned over.
“They have an entire kitchen that only boils eggs?”
“Yes.”
“And V’ren making pancakes?”
“Twelve working on bulk pancakes, and two doing individual orders.”
M’ren grinned.
“I liked the pancakes.”
“You liked everything in Missouri,” T’ira said.
“Not olives.”
“None of us liked the olives.”
D’vann smiled.
“I’m beginning to suspect humanity has been waiting several centuries for a fresh civilization upon which to inflict olives.”
“Jude likes them,” T’vessa said.
R’alen closed his eyes.
“Of course Jude likes them.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because I am frequently misunderstood.”
S’rethi continued reading.
“They also make food for the work crews and distribute meals to the shelters.”
D’vann nodded.
“I’ve been impressed with their organization. They have expanded an existing operation rather than attempting to construct an entirely new one from nothing.”
“They’re good at that,” R’alen said.
“They have to be. Many of their communities would not survive otherwise.”
T’ira was looking at the menu.
“Mother, they have duck.”
S’rethi immediately leaned over.
“Where?”
“In Arrow Rock.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does it say?”
“No.”
S’rethi looked disappointed.
D’vann laughed.
“You’re thinking about that restaurant in Columbia again.”
“The Peking Palace,” she said. “And yes, I am.”
“You’ve mentioned it every day.”
“It was excellent duck.”
“We’ve been in Pennsylvania less than a day.”
“And Pennsylvania has yet to provide me with decent duck.”
“Or pizza,” R’alen said.
“Or pizza,” D’vann agreed.
M’ren looked at her mother.
“Did you ever find out whether they would deliver it?”
“The duck?”
“Yes.”
“Not to Pennsylvania, apparently.”
“How disappointing,” T’ira said.
S’rethi smiled.
“Perhaps once the survey is complete, we can go back for supper.”
“I’m beginning to understand why the crew wanted to return to Arrow Rock,” D’vann said.
T’vessa’s tablet chimed.
She glanced at it and smiled.
R’alen noticed.
“Jude?”
“None of your business.”
“Then definitely Jude.”
“R’alen.”
“What?”
“You’re being annoying.”
“It’s a family responsibility.”
M’ren looked up.
“Emily says he does that to her too.”
“Who?” T’vessa asked.
“Jude.”
“Of course he does. They’re cousins.”
“Apparently, he thinks you’re becoming a bad influence on her.”
T’vessa laughed.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Emily says she has heard enough about the two of you to last a lifetime.”
T’ira started laughing.
“That makes three of us.”
“Four,” M’ren corrected.
D’vann regarded his daughter.
“Ves, precisely how much of your working day are you spending exchanging messages with this young man?”
“Not much.”
“How much is not much?”
“Less than you spend talking to Mother when you’re supposed to be working.”
S’rethi nearly spilled her tea.
R’alen burst out laughing.
D’vann gave his wife a wounded look.
“Do you see what your children have become?”
“Our children,” she corrected.
“I am reconsidering my involvement.”
“Twenty-two years too late.”
“Almost twenty-three,” T’ira added.
“Thank you,” S’rethi said.
M’ren was grinning.
“Emily wants to know whether there will be any parties here.”
“Parties?” D’vann asked.
“Yes. Once we’ve built something.”
“What sort of parties?”
“The usual human kind, I suppose.”
“Which means?” R’alen asked.
“Food. Music. Dancing. People complaining about the food, music, and dancing.”
“That does sound human,” T’ira said.
“Jude says they should bring pizza,” T’vessa offered.
“Of course he does,” R’alen muttered.
S’rethi looked at her husband.
“There. We have found our first commercial opportunity.”
D’vann laughed.
“We haven’t even finished destroying the hills.”
“Then somebody had better learn to make pizza while we do.”
“Jude says he knows how,” T’vessa said.
R’alen groaned.
“There’s a surprise.”
T’vessa threw a napkin at him.
By ten, the food had been cleared away and the conversation had begun wandering into the ordinary family business of messages from relatives, complaints about their accommodations, and speculation about when they’d have something resembling a permanent home.
L’kiri had sent another message from Missouri.
She was enjoying pilot training, had apparently made several new friends, and showed no particular desire to join the family in Pennsylvania.
“She could at least pretend to miss us,” T’ira said.
“She does miss us,” S’rethi replied.
“She has a curious way of showing it.”
“She sent you a photograph yesterday.”
“Of herself eating pizza.”
“Perhaps she was thinking of you.”
“She was taunting me.”
“That’s also possible.”
D’vann looked through the next day’s schedule.
“We’ll have the first full rover deployment tomorrow.”
“Provided the bombardment goes as planned,” S’rethi said.
“And assuming you’ve left me somewhere to put the construction equipment.”
“I’m sure there will be something.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“You wanted flat ground.”
“I did.”
“You’re getting flat ground.”
“With stable foundations, preferably.”
“You’re becoming demanding.”
R’alen looked between them.
“Will we actually be able to begin construction soon?”
“When your mother tells us where the ground is safe,” D’vann replied.
“And when will that be?”
“When I have enough information,” S’rethi said.
“So we don’t know.”
“We know considerably more than we did this morning.”
“And tomorrow?” T’ira asked.
“We’ll know more still.”
M’ren set aside her tablet.
“Emily asked me something earlier.”
“What?” S’rethi asked.
“Whether I think I’ll like living here.”
D’vann looked toward her.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I don’t know yet. We haven’t really lived here.”
“A fair answer,” he said.
“She says it gets better once you know people and have somewhere to go when you’re not working.”
T’vessa smiled.
“Like somewhere to eat pizza?”
“Exactly.”
R’alen leaned back in his chair.
“Then perhaps that should be our first building.”
D’vann considered it.
“A pizza restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Not a power plant, warehouse, water system, or construction office?”
“Those too. But the pizza restaurant would improve morale.”
“An excellent argument,” S’rethi said.
“You’re encouraging him.”
“I’m thinking about the duck.”
“Of course you are.”
D’vann closed his tablet.
“Well, tomorrow we’ll get another look at precisely how much trouble we’ve made for ourselves.”
“And you can start determining where to put the buildings,” S’rethi said.
“Once you approve the ground.”
“Once I approve the ground.”
He leaned over and kissed her.
“Then I shall endeavor to keep my geological engineer happy.”
“Tea helps.”
“And duck?”
“Duck would help considerably.”
T’vessa looked at M’ren.
“Ask Emily if she knows anywhere around here that makes good Chinese food.”
“She’s in Missouri.”
“She might know somebody.”
R’alen laughed.
“We have an entire planet full of humans, and we’re already asking them where to eat.”
“That’s what people do,” M’ren said.
D’vann smiled.
“Then perhaps we’re settling in after all.”
Outside, the drones continued their work over the dark Pennsylvania hills.
S’rethi glanced once more at the geological display, then switched it off.
The mountains could wait until morning.
