The New Zuricher rebounded from the blow, crashing into Fouchet, blood bursting from the corner of his mouth.
He stared at Ladislaus for a moment of terror, then clawed himself upright, gobbling curses while Fouchet's hand darted inside his tunic. But Ladislaus wasn't yet done, and Fionna's world reeled about her as his quarterdeck rasp cut through Dieter's fury.
"You're to meet me for this," he grated.
Dieter's mouth snapped shut as a warning battered at the mizir. He was in the Beaufort enclave; the enclaves enjoyed extraterritoriality; and on Beaufort, dueling was an accepted fact of life.. He stared at the giant before him, and for the first time he understood the difference be- tween a patiently plodding ox and a charging bull.
"I--I--was He fought for words. "This is... is preposter- ous! Barbaric! You can't be--was "Aye, we're to be called barbarians," Ladislaus agreed grimly, "but it's to meet me you'll be for all of that." "I--I won't!" Dieter gasped desperately.
"No?" Ladislaus wrapped one hand in the New Zuricher's tunic, and muscles bred to a gravity a thirdeaagiin that of Old Terra's rippled as he lifted him from the floor. "You've the right to be calling barbarians, but not the guts to be facing one, have you? But it's on Beaufort soil you are the now! It's Beaufort law has the ruling of it here." "Let him go, Skjorning!" It was Fouchet, his hand still inside his tunic, and Ladislaus' blue eyes moved coldly to the security man's tighteaface.
"Chief?." the big Friffger said softly.
"Mister Fouchet," Fionna's voice rang through the hor- rified room, "You are legally on the soil of Beaufort, and as chief of her delegation, I will thank you to remove your hand from your tunieempty." Fouchet eyed her contemptuously, then paled.
Three grim-faced Assembly lictors stood behind her, stun batons in hand and a hard light in their eyes. He hadn't seen them appear, but he knew whose orders they would obey in this room.
His hand came out of his tunic--empty.
"Thank you," Fionna said icily, then touched Ladislaus lightly on the arm. "Put him down, Lad," she said quietly.
For a moment it seemed the towering blond giant might refuse, then he slammed Dieter back onto his feet, and the Corporate Wodder swayed. Fionna's eyes were emer- ald ice, but her voice was colder.
@u "Mister Dieter, you have been challenged to honorable combat by Ladislaus Skjorning. Do you accept the chal- lenge?"" "I-- Nol Of course not! It's---was "Be silent!" Fionna's voice whiplashed across his splut- tering and shocked him into silence. "Very well. You have declined the challenge--as is your right. But as represen- tative of Beaufort on Old Terra, it is my duty to inform you that you are no longer welcome on her soil. Leave. If you ever return, you will be forcibly ejected." Dieter stared at her like a gaffed fish, the mottled red print of Ladislaus' hand the only color in his white face. He looked desperately around the circle of hostile faces, and he found no support. Not a man or woman present questioned Fionna's decision. He opened his mouth.
Fionna couldn't fault Lad--comexcept, perhaps, in that the challenge had rightfully been hers to give. Such behavior was not tolerated on Beaufort, nor most other Fringe Worlds. Sparse societies in alien environments tended to be armed, and insults carried a stiff price. Yet even if she couldn't question his act, she regretted the impact she expected it to have.
But the actual impact surprised her. The Corporate Worlds might have convinced the Heart Worlds the Fringe was uncouth, but not even they dared argue that a society's customs could be challenged with impunity. That sort of intolerance would have destroyed the Federatiori long since, and no Heart Worlder hesitated to condemn Dieter's behavior.
Not even the excuse that he'd been drugging (acceptable on most Heart Worlds, though not in the Fringe) could mitigate his unforgivable boorishness.
So far as the Heart Worlds were concerned, the whole focus of the Corporate-Fringe World debate had been shifted by a single instance of supremely bad manners.
The Fringers' reactions were even more startling.
She'd expected a ground swell of anger she would never be able to control; instead, she got a tightening of ranks and an upwelling of ever stronger support.
The hatred she'd expected was there, but it was controlled by respect for her and Ladislaus.
Dieter's stupidity had strengthened her prestige with Fringer and Heart Worlder alike, and the Corporate Worlds lost ground steadily in debate. The amalgamation issue was far from resolved, but under her leadership the Fringe had emerged as astnoderate and reasonable entity, and as the days passed, she felt the pendulum swinging in her favor.
Simon Taliaferro's joviality was in abeyance, and his eyes were cold as Oskar Dieter and Francois Fouchet entered his office.
"You idiot!" he flared. "How could you be so stupid?!" "I--I wasn't myself," Dieter muttered. "I was provoked!" "Provoked, hell!
You were glitter-dusted to the eyeballs, that's what you were! Look at these'--he slammed a fist on the sheaf of printouts on his desk--com?and tell me it was worth it!" "Mister Taliaferro," Fouchet's calm voice cut the super- heated tension like an icicle, "we're prepared to stipulate an error was made, but fixing blame won't solve our difficulties. Clearly gou have something to tell us; equally clearly it isn't something you much care for. Very well. Tell us, and let's see ff we can't find a way to retrieve the situation." Fouchet's coolness seemed to calm Taliaferro, and he drew a deep breath. Then he let it hiss out and squared his shoulders.
"You're right, Francois," he said finally. "I'll say no more about the... episode. But the consequences are out of all proportion, I assure you. These---was he thumped the printouts again his-comtell it all. A week ago, we had them; today, they're rolling us up like a rug." Dieter mopped his forehead with a tissue and said noth- ing. In one, terrible week he'd fallen from the Corporate Worlds' second most powerful leader into a sort of limbo. Every insider knew Fouchet spoke for New Zurich, and most expected Dieter to be recalled so Fouchet could replace him officially. He was ruined, and his eyes burned into Fouchet's back as he remembered who had encouraged him to glitter-dust that evening... and provided the drug that was so much more potent than he normally used.
"Those projections are confirmed?" Fouchet asked, and Taliaferro nodded. "But, of course, they're based on certain givens, aren't they?" "Any projection is, but there's not much room for change in the parameters. What it boils down to is that we've lost the high ground. In a straight debate over something as emotional as amalgamation, they'll probably beat us--even without the reapportionment issue. God! To think of a brainless lummox like Skjorning bumbling into the only thing that could hurt us this way!" "I'm not so sure he is brainless," Dieter offered in a subdued voice.
"Of course you're not," Taliaferro sneered.
"That'd make your little fiasco look better, wouldn't it?" Dieter wilted under the savage irony. "But he is a fool. He reacted with his muscles, the way he always does, and it just happened that this time it was the best thing he could do--or the worst, depending on your viewpoint!" "But it comes down to Skjorning and MacTaggart, doesn't it? Fouchet murmured thoughtfully, recapturing Taliaferro's attention.
"Eh? I suppose so--not that he's too important. It's MacTaggart. She's spent a quarter-century building a power base. She's got the best political brain in the whole Fringer crowd, and they know it--that's why they follow her lead -comb her control was slipping. Another few days and I'd'ye moved the vote, and every projection said she'd lose the firebrands on the floor. Well, the hotheads are hotter than ever, but she's got more authority than ever. They'll never break with her now." "No, I can see that," Fouchet said slowly, "but ff there were some way to remove her from the equation?" "Without MacTaggart, they'd attack us like wolves," Taliaferro said simply, "and that'd be just as good as their scattering like sheep. But we can't touch her. She can't be bought, she can't be blackmailed, she can't be intimidated, and she's headed the Fringe Caucus for fifteen years. After hst deek, she might as well be in God's hip pocket!" "True," Fouchet said, his lips curving slowly, "but accidents do happen, don't they? And Granyork isn't like a colony world. Why, we're right in the middle of the Northeast Corridor Conurbation, and that's a sort of jungle Fringers aren't well equipped to deal with.