Gwen's lips curved a smile that was both fond and amused.
Quit eavesdropping, Rod scolded silently. He turned to Yorick. "Well. We seem to be in moderately good shape at the moment."
Yorick grinned, but he swung with the change of topic. "Yeah. We're bound for Terra, and we didn't have to pay a dime."
"I like that last part," Whitey agreed.
"Unfortunately, word is probably traveling ahead of us," Rod sighed. "I expect PEST will be ready and waiting for us by the time we get there."
"How?" Brother Joey frowned. "Nothing can travel faster than an FTL ship."
"Nothing except a faster ship," Rod reminded him.
Brother Joey shook his head. "The time we spend in H-space isn't really transit time, Mr. Gallowglass…"
"Rod," Rod prompted.
"Rod. Thank you." Brother Joey nodded. "As I was saying, it isn't really transit time, it's more a matter of seeking and translating."
"Well, then, bigger ships search faster than small ones."
Brother Joey frowned. "I have to admit that the power input does have an effect…"
"And bigger ships go faster from breakout point to destination," Rod added. "Eaves is sure to have a courier after us as soon as he comes out of the coma."
Brother Joey relaxed. "We have lead enough."
"Yes, if some other agent wasn't shadowing us, and sending off a report of his own. Ah, for the dear old days of Morse code!" Rod sighed. "The days of yore, when people communicated from ship to shore by radio, which could be jammed."
"Yeah, I remember Morse code." Yorick grinned. "Would you believe I actually learned it once?"
Chornoi nodded. "So did I. Not that we ever used it, but it was part of basic training, anyway."
Rod slouched down in his chair, and started drumming his fingers.
"Courage, people," Whitey reassured them. "I know some people who're working on trying to invent FTL radio."
Brother Joey stared. "How do they think they can do that?"
Rod started tapping his toe against Yorick's. The caveman showed every sign of paying close attention to Brother Joey and Whitey.
Whitey shook his head. "Search me. But there's my granddaughter—she's a computer expert—and the kid she married; we traveled together for a while."
Think PEST might really know we're coming? Rod tapped out against Yorick's foot.
"They settled down on a big asteroid called 'Maxima,' where they found a lot of kindred souls who liked tinkering with computers and ignoring PEST."
Rod went rigid. Maxima was his family home.
Not a chance, Yorick tapped back. If there were another agent, he would've tried to kill us.
"So your granddaughter and her husband are trying to put the two together, by inventing FTL radio to use against PEST?" Brother Joey asked.
Whitey nodded. "They figure that's got to be the logical consequence. See, they figure that the main reason the Terran Sphere lapsed into dictatorship is because its territory grew so big that the governing representatives on Terra couldn't keep track of what was going on at home."
Then we shouldn't have any trouble getting through their security, should we? Rod tapped. I mean, we are in one of their own ships.
Good point…
"And not knowing about home, meant that they passed laws their constituents didn't like?"
Whitey nodded again. "So their constituents wanted to kick them out of office."
"Naturally," Brother Joey murmured.
Is there a time machine on Terra? Rod tapped.
"So the only way to keep power was to take it," Whitey said.
Brother Joey nodded. "Be done with all this nonsense about elections, eh?"
How many times do I have to tell you? Yorick tapped back. If VETO didn't have a time machine in PEST headquarters, they couldn't be giving aid!
"Ah, you know the symptoms. And, of course, they couldn't make the outer planets obey therr^ if they couldn't get their orders to them in time—so the sensible thing to do was to cut off the frontier."
"Keep only the planets they can rule," Brother Joey sighed. "Well, I'm afraid that does make some sense."
Whitey smiled. "So the whole problem boils down to the territory having grown too big for the speed of the communications."
And if VETO hasn't been helping PEST, Yorick tapped, I'm a monkey's uncle!
Thought it was the other way around, Rod tapped back.
Awright, Darwin. Just wait, and let's see what you evolve into.
"Wait a minute." Chornoi sat forward."You mean your granddaughter figures that if she can develop faster-than-light radio, PEST will automatically collapse?"
"Well, not right away, and not all that easily, but that's the gist of it, yes," Whitey confirmed.
Brother Joey sat back, dazzled. "My heavens! What an audacious scheme!"
Whitey cocked his head to the side, watching him. "Kinda makes you want to join them, doesn't it?"
"It does, yes!"
Rod looked up, having caught the last bit of the conversation. "I expect we could drop you off there, on our way."
Brother Joey gazed off into space. "I do seem to be a better engineer than a missionary…"
"We're going to try to gate-crash Terra," Rod explained. "We ought to have a fairly good chance, in one of their own scoutships."
Chornoi frowned. "If PEST hasn't been told who's in this ship."
Rod shrugged. "Life is filled with these little uncertainties."
Whitey shook his head sadly. "'Fraid I can't come along, folks. On Terra, I'm a very wanted person."
"So are we," Rod agreed, "but we don't have much choice in the matter."
"But I do, and this time I'm going to play smart and use it," Whitey sighed. "Just let me off at Maxima, will you?" He looked up as Stroganoff and Mirane came up, holding hands and beaming. "How about you two? Want to get off at Maxima?"
Mirane paused halfway down to her seat. "That's where that cadre of engineers and physicists are building robots, isn't it?"
"The very place."
Mirane finished sitting. "I'd like to visit there, yes. I'm going to need to know everything I can about computers."
"Oh?" Whitey perked up. "Just what are you two planning to do?"
"Get married, first," Stroganoff said, with a smile at Mirane that could have seared paint. "Then we're going to make the Grand Tour from pleasure-planet to pleasure-planet."
"Oh?" Whitey lifted an eyebrow. "And what're you planning to use for money?"
"Oh, we're not going to pay for it," Mirane cried, scandalized. "The company will."
"Company? What company?"
"The epic company," Stroganoff explained. "I've banked enough to start my own corporation, Whitey. We'll make three or four epics on each resort, then move on to the next one. Care to write us some scripts?"
"I just might, depending on what you're planning to do on each planet, besides making epics."
Mirane gazed at Stroganoff. "Well, we thought we'd try every dreamhouse, and have duo-dreams together."
"Just the three of you?"
Stroganoff nodded. "Me, Mirane, and Notem-Modem 409."
"So." Whitey leaned back, grinning. "You figured it out, too, huh?"
Mirane nodded. "PEST has every dreamhouse computer rigged to condition its users to obey authority, which means that, eventually, PEST will be able to rule the outer planets without having to worry about a navy."