He looked back at her, dumbfounded. “I don’t know.”
She leaned toward him, touching his arm. “I want to find out. Hythe-MacKay
will know. I’ve arranged to see them tomorrow morning for a viewing. If
I—“
There was an urgent beeping from the wall screen in the corner. She sat back, letting a long breath escape her.
“Who is it?” Michael asked, facing the wall screen. “It’s Representative Kennedy, Master,” the House Computer answered, “calling from Weimar.”
“What time is it out there?”
“Ten minutes after eight, Master.”
Michael turned, smiling at her, as if he’d already forgotten what she’d been saying. “Then he’ll have made his speech.” He turned back. “Put him on. Full vision.”
At once the image of Kennedy filled the screen. “Michael. . . Mary . . . how are the two of you?”
“We’re fine,” Michael answered for them both. “How did it go? Did you have them eating out of your hand?”
Kennedy laughed. “Not quite. Even so, I think it went down rather well. The media are hailing it as a great success. That’s why I rang. I’m told that MedFac are going to show excerpts on their evening ‘cast. Maybe you’d spread the word—let a few of our friends know it’s going out. If we can get pickup from a few of the other channels—“ “Leave it with me,” Michael said, grinning back at him. “And Joe . . . you’re still okay for Friday?”
Kennedy beamed back at him. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. But look, I’ve got to dash, okay? I’ll catch up with you later. Bye!” The screen went dark.
Michael turned, looking to Emily, then frowned. “What’s the matter?” “Nothing,” she said, putting the book on the top of the pile. “I’d best be getting on with diings.”
He huffed, exasperated by her. “Look. You don’t have to like him, Em, but you could be a bit more civil. It’s not easy what he’s trying to do.” Her answer was unexpectedly sharp. “And just what is that? Do we really know anymore?”
“Hey . . . ease off. . . .” He raised his hands, smiling at her. “I thought we’d talked this one through. The new population measures will help everyone, from First Level to the Net.” “Some more than others.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that the top fifty will be exempt.”
“So? The top fifty isn’t where the problem is.”
“No . . .” She looked away, her face tight. “It never is, is it?” “Hey . . .” He laughed, trying hard to be conciliatory. “Look, I agree with him, Em. I think it’s the right step to take. So what am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing,” she said coldly. Then, relenting, she came across and pressed his head against her side. “Nothing, my love.”
kennedy leaned in to the intercom, speaking to his secretary in the next room. “Make sure he gets that, right? Oh, and send copies to Hudson and Keeler. I want them fully briefed when they meet Hastings tomorrow. Oh, and no more calls just now. I’m in conference, right?” Breaking the connection he sat back, looking at the man seated across from him.
“Well, Fen Cho-hsien, how can I help you?” Wu Shih’s Chancellor looked about him a moment; then, smoothing his silks out with one hand, he smiled. Behind him his two body servants stood like statues—big, apelike Han, their faces bereft of expression. “It was a good speech, Shih Kennedy,” Fen answered, drawing his silks tighter about him, “and I am certain that, when it comes to the vote tomorrow, you will win a substantial majority.” He paused. “My Master is very pleased with you.”
Kennedy shrugged. “And what does your Master want of me now?” Fen’s smile never wavered. “Wu Shih wants nothing. Nothing, that is, except what is best for everyone. You have brought your party a long way this past year. Your policies . . . well”—he laughed—“it is hard to believe that the NREP of a year ago could have held such views, neh?” Kennedy made no comment, yet it was clear from a hardening in his face that Fen Cho-hsien’s constant insults were getting to him. “Anyway,” Fen said, aware of the effect his words were having, “I have a meeting within the hour, so I must go.”
He raised his right hand and clicked his fingers. At once one of the body servants handed him a sealed envelope. Fen stared at it, then leaned toward Kennedy, handing it to him, the smile gone suddenly, his eyes hard. “You will find my Master keeps his promises, Mister Kennedy. There is enough there to pay off all New Republican debts and enough left over to purchase tai if you so wish. In return all you need do is agree to a single amendment to your proposal introducing new levels of food subsidies for below Level Two fifty.”
Kennedy stared at him. “What new levels?” Fen Cho-hsien stood, smiling once more. “It is all there in the Tang’s letter. As I said, my Master keeps his promises . . . make sure you keep yours.”
With that he turned and left.
Kennedy sat there a moment, staring at the empty doorway, then looked down at the letter in his hand. Tearing it open he read it through, then sat back, whistling.
“Shit,” he said softly. If he agreed to this . . . But what option had he? If he didn’t the whole package would be lost, and whatever Fen Cho-hsien might think, he really did believe in the current set of population proposals. They weren’t equitable, true, but they were a start. And once the principle was established—
But to reduce food subsidies to the Lowers was against stated New Republican policy. To agree to this was something else. He looked down at the check. It was made out in Wu Shih’s own hand—a bill drawn on his private bankers for twenty million yuan. Kennedy nodded to himself, considering. Ten would clear all debts, the rest. . . He huffed loudly, angry that it had come to this. Until now he’d played things straight, avoiding the use of pockets—tai—to win a vote, but this once it seemed he’d need it.
Ten million. From what he’d heard he could buy a whole stack of votes for that. A quarter of the House.
“So you want amendments, do you?” he said softly, pulling his writing pad across and beginning to scribble with the stylus. “Well, I’ll give you amendments, Wu Shih, more amendments than you ever looked for.”
wu shih, T’ang of North America, looked sternly into the news camera, the detailed model of the newly commissioned orbital farm on his desk beside him. Then, with a flourish of the brush, he signed the special Edict and, taking the great seal from the cushion, inked it and pressed it down firmly onto the foot of the document.
“There,” he said quietly as the arc lights cut out and servants hurried to take the document away, “it is done.”
He stood, then crossed the book-lined study to where his cousin, Tsu Ma, stood by the open garden door, watching him. “It is an expensive business, cousin,” Tsu Ma said, smiling sympathetically. “Let us pray it works.”
Wu Shih sighed. “I wish now I had never commissioned that report. I shall be lucky if it does not bankrupt me!”
Tsu Ma laughed. “Oh, 1 doubt it cousin. Besides, it is better to be forewarned than sorry. You should not ask yourself how much it will cost, but what it might have cost you had you not acted.” Wu Shih turned, watching his servants dismantle the trivee rig. “I’d hoped we could make do, but the orbitals are ancient and are constantly undergoing repairs. We ought to bring them down and totally refit them, but we simply cannot afford to. We are at full stretch as it is, and to take even one out of service”—he shrugged—“well, there was no option when it came down to it. We must build new orbitals or see the old ones fall apart. Still, there are some pluses. The new population controls are a very touchy matter and the vote in the House tomorrow is likely to be close. This might sway one or two members to support Shih Kennedy’s proposals.”