''You can't have all that much common sense,'' Kris snorted, not at all liking the way Jack was fawning over this smart old lady. ''She's met twice in the last twenty-four hours with a Longknife. Very risky business, I'd say, for an unarmed, unescorted little old lady.''
''Who said I'm unarmed,'' Ruth snapped, and produced a very ladylike, and very dangerous-looking, automatic. It disappeared so fast that Jack didn't have a chance to raise an objection. Or for Kris to see where Gramma had it hiding.
''And didn't you see those two fine, young kids back there, keeping an eye out for me. Fine bodyguards they are.''
''Hold it,'' Jack said, now getting a hand up.
''How'd you get your hands on a gun?'' Kris said. ''And where did you get a bodyguard?''
''I hired them,'' Gramma Ruth said very matter-of-factly.
''How?'' Kris, Jack, Penny…and Nelly asked at once.
''From the guild hall, of course,'' Gramma answered.
''What guild hall?'' Nelly demanded. ''I searched the yellow database for armed escorts, bodyguards, security teams. Every title any sensible planet would use. There is no such thing.''
''I even asked the ambassador,'' Kris added.
''You don't know,'' Gramma Ruth said, eyeing Kris, then Jack.
He shook his head.
She frowned. ''When I learned you were coming, I mentioned to several of my friends on campus that I was excited to see you again. Next day, Dean Rosemon, head of graduate studies, an old fart from one of the oldest families on Eden, took me aside. He suggested I might want to see to my security, what with the bad blood between certain families and you Longknifes.
''I, of course, remarked of my surprise, seeing how Eden was so peaceful. Peaceful my eyeteeth. I know this place is seething under the surface. Every time I'm invited back, I'm surprised it's still here. Anyway, despite my most unladylike goading, all Herman Rosemon provided me with was a number for a consulting service.''
Gramma Ruth shrugged. ''I called the number. A very nice young man came by, looked at my daily schedule and my apartment. Two days later, just before you arrived, these two, hunky young men joined me for my walk to school, and they, or others like them have been with me every day since. I'm told the apartment is covered at night, but I've never met them.''
''And your weapon?'' Jack asked.
''Comes with the service, or so I'm told.''
''Why weren't we told?'' Kris demanded. ''Better yet, why couldn't we even turn up a hint that this guild hall exists?''
Gramma Ruth chuckled. ''Honey, haven't you figured it out? Eden presents one face to the universe, and saves its very ugly back side for locals and visitors who notice.''
''So I'm finding out,'' Kris muttered.
''Any chance you could give us the number of that guild hall?'' Jack asked, practical as always.
Ruth looked at the front seat, then glanced over her shoulder at the following rig. ''You thinking of trading in your Marines for local hires?''
No way would Kris trust some local to take his pay and take her bullet. She wanted her Marines in reach.
Jack wasn't so sure. ''They might have a better sense of this territory. God only knows we're way too much in the dark.''
''But could you trust someone who's only here for the paycheck to not take a bigger paycheck to look the other way?'' Kris said. Abby was one question mark. How many question marks could she afford to have around her.
''Hey, Marine, up there,'' Gramma Ruth called. ''What's your price to sell out this barbarian princess from the Rim?''
''This fu—ah, planet,'' the sergeant said, struggling to clean up his language out of respect for the gray hairs in the backseat, ''don't have enough money to buy a Marine, ma'am.''
Gramma's answer was obscene and pure Corps. ''How well I know that Marines don't sell out. I fought pirates and Iteeche with you hardcases, and never found one I wouldn't share a beer or a fighting hole with.''
''Ruth?'' the sergeant said. ''Gramma Ruth? You aren't that Ruth, are you?''
''The Ruth that married General Trouble. Only then he was just a lieutenant. Though I can't say he was that much less trouble. Yes, Marine, I am that selfsame fool. Glad to make your acquaintance.''
''Honored to make yours, ma'am.'' If possible, the Marines in front suddenly were sitting at an even stiffer attention.
''We got General Trouble's wife on board, here,'' the driver whispered into her mike. ''Look sharp.''
Kris laughed. ''I'm just a princess. You, Gramma, are a legend.''
''Not a legend, Kris, just a survivor. And a carcass no Marine wants to have to explain letting get suddenly dead to my esteemed and utterly worthless husband. Am I right, Sergeant?''
''I'd have to express some reservations about that worthless part, ma'am.''
''Don't you line beasts still consider anyone above field grade as useless as tits on a boar hog?''
''Not in the presence of his wife, ma'am.'' But he was grinning. A stiff thing, he was still very much at attention.
''If I may interrupt,'' Jack said. ''Do you think we might hire from the guild hall to give our weapons some veneer of legality? We could at least listen to them before we ignore their advice.''
''I'm not sure I want some stranger fully briefed on my scheduled whereabouts,'' Kris said. ''Gramma, did your escort hear you make your lunch appointment.''
''Both times,'' she said, a growing smile on her face.
''And you didn't keep either,'' Kris said.
Gramma Ruth turned her smile loose on Jack. ''You can say a lot about my bloodline, but you got to agree, boy, they do learn fast.''
''Never expressed any doubt about that, ma'am. Only reason she's still alive.''
''So, I'm guessing that Gramma Ruth would be happy if a Marine or two joined her bodyguard,'' Kris said.
''No, no, gal. I'm not a target. You are. Not me.''
''We'll take that under consideration,'' Jack said.
From the way the sergeant in the front seat was smiling, Kris suspected the decision had already been referred to Captain DeVar and Gramma Ruth's opinion was no longer relevant.
And if her hired security had any thoughts of selling out, the sudden discovery that they now had Marine shadows could not help but encourage them to think again.
They arrived at the Acropolis; Gramma Ruth went in with three Marines to arrange lunch. Jack and the sergeant set up a perimeter for the three rigs to keep them unbooby-trapped, and set a rotation so everyone got a chance to eat and the rigs were never alone. They finished about the time Gramma Ruth returned.
''We've got their largest room. Jack, you want to see to its debugging? Kris, you're going to love this place.''
It turned out one of the Marines on Ruth's initial escort was a defensive tech specialist and had already gotten the room cleared by the time they got there. The walk through the great room was…an experience.
The usual clientele totally ignored, or at least did a very good imitation of ignoring, the parade of uniformed marines. Even the snipers with long guns slung down the front of their full-battle rattle got no second looks.
''Interesting place you have here,'' Kris said to the owner, as he took them down an aisle lined with artificial grapevines. On the wall of the main room was a view of the rebuilt Acropolis above Athens. It looked hand painted.
''I provide what my clients want,'' the owner said, smiling jovially, then added with a shrug, ''If I don't, there are plenty of places in town who will.''
Kris tossed Gramma Ruth a glance. Which Ruth let go right by. Clearly any explanation would save for later.
The room was large. Its walls were painted with window views of old Earth's Greece. The sniper teams took seats at the tables beside the two real windows. The one door was quickly surrounded by Marines at the tables closest to it.
Ruth led the way to the table in the room's center. ''This should do us fine.''
The owner offered to take their orders. ''It's lunch. Most people are rushed.''