Prof looked shocked. “Sir, if nominated, I shall repudiate it. If elected, I shall abdicate.”
“Don’t be in a hurry. It might be the only way to get the sort of constitution you want. And that I want, too, with about your own mild lack of enthusiasm. You could be proclaimed King and the people would take you; we Loonies aren’t wedded to a republic. They’d love the idea–ritual and robes and a court and all that.”
“No!”
“Ja da! When the time comes, you won’t be able to refuse. Because we need a king and there isn’t another candidate who would be accepted. Bernardo the First, King of Luna and Emperor of the Surrounding Spaces.”
“Stuart, I must ask you to stop. I’m becoming quite ill.”
“You’ll get used to it. I’m a royalist because I’m a democrat. I shan’t let your reluctance thwart the idea any more than you let stealing stop you.”
I said, “Hold it, Stu. You say you’re a royalist because you’re a democrat?”
“Of course. A king is the people’s only protection against tyranny.. . especially against the worst of all tyrants, themselves. Prof will be ideal for the job . . . because he does not want the job. His only shortcoming is that he is a bachelor with no heir. We’ll fix that. I’m going to name you as his heir. Crown Prince. His Royal Highness Prince Manuel de la Paz, Duke of Luna City, Admiral General of the Armed Forces and Protector of the Weak.”
I stared. Then buried face in hands. “Oh, Bog!”
Book Three
“TANSTAAFL!”
23
Monday 12 October 2076 about nineteen hundred I was headed home after a hard day of nonsense in our offices in Raffles. Delegation of grain farmers wanted to see Prof and I had been called back because he was in Hong Kong Luna. Was rude to them. Had been two months of embargo and F.N. had never done us favor of being sufficiently nasty. Mostly they had ignored us, made no reply to our claims–I suppose to do so would have been to recognize us. Stu and Sheenie and Prof had been hard put to slant news from Earthside to keep up a warlike spirit.
At first everybody kept his p-suit handy. They wore them, helmets under arms, going to and from work in corridors. But that slacked off as days went by and did not seem to be any danger–p-suit is nuisance when you don’t need it, so bulky. Presently taprooms began to display signs: NO P-SUITS INSIDE. If a Loonie can’t stop for half a liter on way home because of p-suit, he’ll leave it home or at station or wherever he needs it most.
My word, had neglected matter myself that day–got this call to go back to office and was halfway there before I remembered.
Had Just reached easement lock thirteen when I heard and felt a sound that scares a Loonie more than anything else–a chuff! in distance followed by a draft. Was into lock almost without undogging, then balanced pressures and through, dogged it behind me and ran for our home lock–through it and shouting:
“P-suits, everybody! Get boys in from tunnels and close all airtight doors!”
Mum and Milla were only adults in sight. Both looked startled, got busy without a word. I burst into workshop, grabbed p-suit. “Mike! Answer!”
“I’m here, Man,” he said calmly.
“Heard explosive pressure drop. What’s situation?”
“That’s level three, L-City. Rupture at Tube Station West, now partly controlled. Six ships landed, L-City under attack–”
“What?”
“Let me finish, Man. Six transports landed, L-City under attack by troops, Hong Kong inferred to be, phone lines broken at relay Bee Ell. Johnson City under attack; I have closed the armor doors between J-City and Complex Under. I cannot see Novylen but blip projection indicates it is under attack. Same for Churchill, Tycho Under. One ship in high ellipsoid over me, rising, inferred to be command ship. No other blips.”
“Six ships–where in hell were YOU?”
He answered so calmly that I steadied down. “Farside approach, Man; I’m blind back there. They came in on tight Garrison didoes, skimming the peaks; I barely saw the chop-off for Luna City. The ship at J-City is the only one I can see; the other landings I conclusively infer from the ballistics shown by blip tracks. I heard the break-in at Tube West, L-City, and can now hear fighting in Novylen. The rest is conclusive inference, probability above point nine nine. I called you and Professor at once.”