Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

"Why in Nifflheim do they want to go out in this drizzle?" Grego asked.

"Mmmmmm?" Rainsford said absently as he finished mixing a four-portion jug full of cocktails and poked the stopper into it. "Oh, they won't get wet.

They'll all sit in Flora and Fauna's pup-tent, which the Marines-ah- liberated for me, watch it rain, eat their Extee-Three, and have a grand time."

Rainsford paused with his hand on the cupboard door. "Did you ever have a tree-house when you were a kid, Victor?" he asked, his hand still poised on the knob of the cupboard door.

"No," Grego said. "No, I didn't have a tree-house, but one place we lived had a lilac thicket next to the house. I was about nine, I guess. I hollowed out that lilac thicket- carefully, a little bit at a time, so no one would know.

If you knew where the entrance was, you could get in; if you didn't, it was just a big lilac bush." He shrugged. "Must've been about six feet tall-a lot taller than I was, anyway. On hot summer days, I'd crawl in there and read. It was absolutely perfect. Quite enough light, and it was cool and smelled so good I can't begin to describe it."

Both men stared into the distance, not really seeing each other, but looking into the past.

"I had a tree-house," Rainsford said. "I worked like a slave getting the roof weather-tight. I liked to go up there when it rained. When there was an electrical storm, I 'd go up there and spend the night. Damned wonder I wasn't struck by lightning." Suddenly, Rainsford jerked open the cupboard door and took down two glasses. "Well, let's go in the living room, shall we? There are a couple of mutual goals I want to chat with you about before my guest arrives."

When they were comfortably situated, Rainsford filled his pipe and lighted it.

"When are you going to file a suit to regain the CZC charter? " he asked. That was one thing about Ben; he always got right to the point.

Grego blinked with surprise he couldn't conceal, then recovered. "Why, Bennett," he said, "what possible causes of action could we use to frame such a complaint?" Rainsford leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily, making his bristly red whiskers shake with mirth. "Oh, Victor," he chuckled. "It's no wonder you're Manager-in-Chief. You're as smooth as a tilbra's belly."

"I think that's a compliment," Grego said, "but I repeat-how could we hope to get such a case into court, much less think of winning it?"

Rainsford wiped his eyes and leaned forward, suddenly serious. "You know,

Victor, just because I spent a lot of time over on Beta, counting tree-rings and banding birds, a lot of people think I'm an eccentric old fud who has staffed the government with roughnecks and has about as much business being Governor General as a khooghra does being an archbishop."

"You're nothing like Nick Emmert. That's for sure," Grego said. "A few people have found some difficulty getting used to that."

"Well, Victor," Rainsford said, "the point is this-just so we can stop being coy. You think I don't know about Garrett's Theorem? I'm a xeno-naturalist, and not one that just popped out of college with a diploma stuck in my ear.

I've been keeping touch with van Riebeek's research on this NFMp hormone thing. It's no secret, either, that the Company Science Center is drilling a few holes along this line of reasoning. Now, whatever the Navy is onto over on North Beta, there's more to it than some anonymous starship. Yes, yes," he interjected, ."I was there when they dug it out and saw it with my own eyes."

"What makes you think there's more to it than that?" Grego asked.

Rainsford smiled. "The simple fact that Alex Napier won't tell the Governor General-me-anything more about it. The information I was getting from him just levelled out and stopped at that point."

"If you can't get anything out of him, what can the Company do?" Grego asked.

"Why, file a lawsuit in Central Courts, alleging that there are no sapient beings on Zarathustra who are native to the planet. Therefore, the Company's charter was unlawfully voided-or voided by mistake if you want to put it more politely. As a principal party in such an action, that will give the Company certain Rights of Discovery to make legal establishment of information that now has its legal existence on the basis of 'to the best of knowledge and belief.' You'll be able to take veridicated depositions, and they'll have to open records for your examination which you wouldn't otherwise be able to get your hands on."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Gus Brannhard," Grego said.

Rainsford snorted. "You bet your boots I have! What's the good of an Attorney General if he isn't the slipperiest lawyer on the planet? Gus says there's precedent in colonial law for this sort of thing. The Chartered Yggsdrasil Company took a whack at it after the Yggsdrasil Khooghra was declared sapient.

They lost, of course, because they didn't have much of a case. Maybe they had the wrong lawyer. Gus could probably have gotten them at least a draw-and tied up the courts with the case long enough for the Company to bail out its investment."

Grego decided then and there not to tell Rainsford anything remotely connected with his spy in the ZNPF or the fact that he had Leslie Coombes digging through colonial case law, looking for applications of Garrett's Theorem. He sipped his drink and smiled. The old boy's been doing his homework, Grego thought. Everyone thinks he just fusses with that ghastly pipe-when he's not arguing with someone or throwing a temper tantrum. "Why are you being so good to me, Bennett?" he asked.

Rainsford fussed with his pipe for a moment. "Aw, hell, Victor," he said, slightly embarrassed. "I've been worried about you. You've been mooning around over that girl like a lovesick banjo-bird. And I-well-let's just say I know how that sort of thing can distort a man's perspective."

"I didn't know it showed," Grego said, unruffled.

"Not to everyone, maybe," Rainsford said, "but to me, it shows."

"You think my judgement is out the airlock?" Grego asked.

Rainsford squirmed a bit. "Now, I didn't say that, Victor," he said. "I just said I've been concerned."

"And you want me to try and get the Company's charter back," Grego said, "so I can resume my role as 'the petty despot of Zarathustra.' You once called me that several times, you know."

"Well, dammit," Rainsford said irritably, "you'd better make an effort at it.

You've got a Board of Directors to answer to. They'll be standing in your hip pockets before long. I expect a gaggle of them to show up every time a ship docks on Darius."

"That's not their way," Grego said quietly.' "They'll send out some spies, first. Just to see if they need to bring a rope with them when they do come."

"But are you doing anything about it, confound it," Rainsford said.

"The Company is looking after its interests," Grego replied. "You realize, of course, that if we do get the charter back, you'll be out of a job."

Rainsford chuffed on his pipe. "No; I'll be out of this job-" He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. "-something I have been devoutly hoping for ever since Alex Napier shoe-horned me into it."

Grego stubbed out his cigarette and held out his glass for the refill Rainsford preferred from the now unstoppered jug. Rainsford set the jug back on the coffee table. Both men looked at each other for a moment.

"The Company," Grego said, "in such an eventuality, would petition that you be retained as Resident-General." "I don't want to be Resident-General,"

Rainsford insisted, "or Governor General. I want to go back over to Beta and help out at Fuzzy Institute."

"Well," Grego said, "there's no blinding rush to come to a decision at this point. I just wanted you to know that I think you've been doing pretty good, and-" The chiming of the entry door interrupted. Rainsford leaped to his feet.