"It's pretty impressive, as a matter of fact. But…"
He studied her for a moment. "I'm glad it's just an act."
She made a face. "So am I. Even leaving aside what Ruth told me about the rumors concerning her sexual habits."
Web grimaced. "The famous horse? That's almost certainly a legend invented by her enemies. Not that Catherine was exactly what you'd call fastidious in her personal habits. But that wasn't really what I meant. I'm not worried about you, actually. I'm concerned about how your new people decide to look upon you. Especially in light of the poll taken yesterday."
The proposal to make the new star nation of Torch a constitutional monarchy, with Berry as the founding queen, hadn't been voted on by the populace yet. Nor would it be, for several more weeks, to allow everyone scattered across the planet time to ponder the matter. But Web had taken an initial poll the day before, using standard techniques which usually gave good results. He'd been a bit shocked when he saw the results. Eighty-seven percent in favor, with a margin of error of plus-or-minus four percent.
He hadn't expected better than seventy percent, he'd told Berry. He wasn't sure yet, but he thought two factors had made the difference. First, the enthusiastic recommendation of the thousands of ex-slaves from the Felicia, who were quickly spreading across the planet as the new government's informal organizing cadre. Second-perhaps even more importantly, and certainly something he hoped was true-because now that the slaves had sated their initial bloodlust, they were a little shaken themselves at the experience. Berry's holo image had been broadcast widely across the planet's com web. Her real one, since the weeks aboard Felicia had also been used by Erewhonese biotechs to reverse the nanotech disguise. And if there was any human image Web could imagine that might help people claw their way out of a pit of rage and hatred, it was that calm, intelligent-looking, pretty young girl's face. It was simply impossible to look at Berry and think her a threat or a menace, to anyone.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked.
"Let's put it this way. There will be a strong impulse-especially given your own capabilities, which are becoming increasingly clear to me-for your new nation to want to call you, as time goes by, 'Berry the Great.' "
She made a face, as if she'd bitten into something sour. "Oh, yuck. Between exercise and taking lessons from you-and trying to stagger along under the weight of 'the Great'?" She practically whined the next words: "How am I supposed to get a boyfriend, in all that? And what kind of screwball would he be, anyway?"
Web grinned. "Oh, you'd manage, I don't doubt that. But-being honest-that's the least of my worries. Mainly, you need to be careful about it because the truth is, judging from the historical record, that monarchs who go down as 'the Great' are usually a mixed blessing for their nations. As a rule, so obsessed with what they considered 'victories' and 'triumphs' that they left a pretty impressive butcher's bill behind."
"Not my style at all," Berry said firmly, shaking her head. "So what should I shoot for, Web?" With a half-giggle: " 'Berry the Sweet'?"
Web almost seemed to giggle himself. "Hardly that! A good monarch can't afford to be too gentle, either. No…"
His eyes ranged the landing field, looking beyond the first shuttles starting to take off to examine the lush, green terrain of Torch beyond. It was a rich landscape, almost steaming with potential wealth.
"I'll tell you what to shoot for, girl. Mind you, it'll take decades to get there. Long, slow decades, where a new people has time to settle into itself. Relax, if you will. And part of that relaxation-no small part-simply coming from steadiness and stability. Shoot for that. Aim that high. Aim for the day to come when they call you something which precious few monarchs in the long history of the human race have ever been called. Far fewer, when you get down to it, than have been called 'the Great.' "
He brought his eyes back to her. "Nothing complicated, nothing fancy. Just… 'Good Queen Berry.' That's all. And that'll be enough."
She thought about it, for a while. "I can do that," she pronounced.
"Oh, yes, dear one. I know you can."
Chapter 48
"Don't even try feeding me that crap, Kevin," hissed the President of the Republic of Haven. Eloise Pritchart leaned so far forward in her chair that she was almost standing in a half-crouch. The palms of hands were planted flat on the desk, supporting much of her weight. Her eyes were slitted, her face pale with anger.
"You planned this from the very start! Don't try telling me that Cachat just-what did you call it?-'accidentally stumbled into an unforeseen situation.' Bullshit!"
Kevin Usher tried to snort derisively. The sound was… feeble.
"C'mon, Eloise! You're an experienced op yourself. You know damn good and well nobody could have 'planned' something like-"
"Cut it out, damn you!"Now, Pritchart was fully on her feet, leaning still farther over the desk. "I know you didn't 'plan' it that way. So what? I also know that you told Cachat from the get-go to see what he could stir up on Erewhon-and then run with it."
She glanced angrily at Ginny Usher, who was seated on a chair next to her husband. "That's why you wanted Cachat. All that stuff about Ginny was a smokescreen. Cachat is your gunslinger-your damn shoot-from-hip specialist. I know his record, Kevin! That lunatic can and will improvise anything on his feet. This stunt he pulled on Erewhon was even hairier than what he did in La Martine!"
Her eyes fell on the now-empty display screen on her desk, where she'd spent several hours studying the report Virginia Usher had brought back from Erewhon the day before. "Hairy?" she demanded. "Say better-'furry,' as in grizzly bear. For God's sake, he deliberately set up the killing of an entire unit of the Queen's Own Regiment!"
"That's not true!" burst out Ginny.
Pritchart glared at her, but Ginny stood her ground. Sat up straight, at least.
"Well, it isn't," she insisted. "The attack was launched by Templeton and his fanatics. Victor had nothing to do with it."
Pritchart's snort wasn't feeble in the least. "Oh, splendid. But he knew about it, before it happened. Didn't he? He could have warned them-in which case dozens of people wouldn't have been slaughtered, half of them completely innocent civilians."
Ginny's expression was mulish, but she said nothing. Eloise continued her tirade.
"Not to mention the possible murder of a member of the Star Kingdom's royal house-whom he left right smack in the middle of a gunfight! Do you-either of you-have any idea what an unholy mess you'd have landed me in if it ever became known to the Manticorans that a Havenite agent… "
Her words trailed off, ending in a groan. She slumped back into her chair.
"Oh, I forgot that, didn't I? The Manticorans do know about it. Cachat-that maniac!-dragged the princess herself into the scheme afterward."
"He didn't drag her," Ginny muttered. "It'd be better to say, she jumped at the chance."
Before Pritchart could respond, the fourth person in the room cleared his throat and said: "You're really not being fair, Ms. President."
She swiveled her head and stared at Wilhelm Trajan, the director of the Federal Intelligence System. Her lips quirked into a half-grimace.
"Et tu, Wilhelm? I'd think you-of all people-would be even more pissed than I am. Among other things, this whole shaggy operation was a complete slap in the face to you."