but whatever they do next won’t be good. And then our Sphere is suddenly only about a quarter as useful—the Upper Sphere will have to be sealed, and we can bet those bastards will have the Straits blockaded.”
She ran her hand through her hair distractedly. “Wonderful. Well…look, right now I think all we can do is try to keep an eye out for what kind of maneuvers our politically oriented friends might try, and hope that we can use our superior knowledge of the Arena to keep them from being more than a nuisance.”
“Amen to that,” DuQuesne said emphatically. “Which is one of the main reasons I wanted to get Wu here.”
Something in his tone—something almost… gleeful ?—made her glance at DuQuesne sharply. “What? How’s he going to address political maneuvers?”
“I’m going to be your bodyguard,” Wu Kung explained helpfully.
“My… what?” The word was grotesque, an anachronism centuries dead except in simgames. With AISages and directed automated monitoring, it was difficult to threaten people and get away with it. She blinked and looked at Marc—trying to ignore Simon, whose face was so utterly blank that she just knew he was restraining an ungentlemanly guffaw at her shock. “ Doctor DuQuesne,” she said, “I would like to talk with you. Privately.”
She started towards the rear of Holy Grail , where there would be unoccupied space…and realized Sun Wu Kung was following her. “Wu—”
“I can’t be a bodyguard if I’m not here.” Wu said bluntly.
“A bodyguard against DuQuesne? ” Now she heard Saul stifle a chortle, and Gabrielle’s hand was over her mouth; her AISage Vincent was unabashedly grinning like a man watching his favorite comedy.
“Against whoever might want to hurt you. Just because DuQuesne assigned me doesn’t mean I’m ignoring him as a threat.”
She goggled at him in entirely un-captainlike disbelief, then turned her stare towards DuQuesne, whose beard was not quite successfully concealing a smile. “Is he serious?”
“Very serious indeed, Captain. Which is why I chose him for that.”
It finally registered. “You mean that this is why you went all the way out there to wake him up? To be a bodyguard?”
“Not the only reason,” DuQuesne clarified, “but a major reason, yes. And before you start telling me how little you need one, I want to point out that we were just discussing how part of the Bad Old Days is coming back in force, and how the Arena isn’t the safest place in the universe either. Right now, Captain, you are the single most important human being ever, and that in at least two ways.”
I should know better than to argue with a Hyperion, but that’s never stopped me before. “Two ways?”
“The obvious first reason is that you’re the head of the Faction of Humanity—or, let’s be more blunt, the ruler of all humanity as far as the Arena is concerned—for exactly as long as you’re alive, or until you deliberately give that position up.”
Saul murmured something. “I had…wondered about certain aspects of your report. My God.”
“Yeah, and I figured there wasn’t much point in hiding it from you any more. Sure as hell we can’t keep it hidden from them much longer. And I don’t think any of us need to ask Naraj and Ni Deng about their feelings on that subject; the idea that you, and you alone, are authorized to make major decisions for the entire human species? Ha! Oh, sure, they might not do anything about it directly, but believe you me, there’s probably a dozen others that, once they figure out the situation, might think it’s a real problem that could be cleared up with a strategically-placed suicide drone with a load of explosives. Perhaps even to assist Naraj or Ni Deng with plausible deniability. ‘Will no one rid me of this troublesome captain?’, so to speak.”
“Wouldn’t the Arena—”
“—know? Sure. And I don’t think it cares . Oh, I don’t think it’d accept a transfer of
She ran her hand through her hair distractedly. “Wonderful. Well…look, right now I think all we can do is try to keep an eye out for what kind of maneuvers our politically oriented friends might try, and hope that we can use our superior knowledge of the Arena to keep them from being more than a nuisance.”
“Amen to that,” DuQuesne said emphatically. “Which is one of the main reasons I wanted to get Wu here.”
Something in his tone—something almost… gleeful ?—made her glance at DuQuesne sharply. “What? How’s he going to address political maneuvers?”
“I’m going to be your bodyguard,” Wu Kung explained helpfully.
“My… what?” The word was grotesque, an anachronism centuries dead except in simgames. With AISages and directed automated monitoring, it was difficult to threaten people and get away with it. She blinked and looked at Marc—trying to ignore Simon, whose face was so utterly blank that she just knew he was restraining an ungentlemanly guffaw at her shock. “ Doctor DuQuesne,” she said, “I would like to talk with you. Privately.”
She started towards the rear of Holy Grail , where there would be unoccupied space…and realized Sun Wu Kung was following her. “Wu—”
“I can’t be a bodyguard if I’m not here.” Wu said bluntly.
“A bodyguard against DuQuesne? ” Now she heard Saul stifle a chortle, and Gabrielle’s hand was over her mouth; her AISage Vincent was unabashedly grinning like a man watching his favorite comedy.
“Against whoever might want to hurt you. Just because DuQuesne assigned me doesn’t mean I’m ignoring him as a threat.”
She goggled at him in entirely un-captainlike disbelief, then turned her stare towards DuQuesne, whose beard was not quite successfully concealing a smile. “Is he serious?”
“Very serious indeed, Captain. Which is why I chose him for that.”
It finally registered. “You mean that this is why you went all the way out there to wake him up? To be a bodyguard?”
“Not the only reason,” DuQuesne clarified, “but a major reason, yes. And before you start telling me how little you need one, I want to point out that we were just discussing how part of the Bad Old Days is coming back in force, and how the Arena isn’t the safest place in the universe either. Right now, Captain, you are the single most important human being ever, and that in at least two ways.”
I should know better than to argue with a Hyperion, but that’s never stopped me before. “Two ways?”
“The obvious first reason is that you’re the head of the Faction of Humanity—or, let’s be more blunt, the ruler of all humanity as far as the Arena is concerned—for exactly as long as you’re alive, or until you deliberately give that position up.”
Saul murmured something. “I had…wondered about certain aspects of your report. My God.”
“Yeah, and I figured there wasn’t much point in hiding it from you any more. Sure as hell we can’t keep it hidden from them much longer. And I don’t think any of us need to ask Naraj and Ni Deng about their feelings on that subject; the idea that you, and you alone, are authorized to make major decisions for the entire human species? Ha! Oh, sure, they might not do anything about it directly, but believe you me, there’s probably a dozen others that, once they figure out the situation, might think it’s a real problem that could be cleared up with a strategically-placed suicide drone with a load of explosives. Perhaps even to assist Naraj or Ni Deng with plausible deniability. ‘Will no one rid me of this troublesome captain?’, so to speak.”
“Wouldn’t the Arena—”
“—know? Sure. And I don’t think it cares . Oh, I don’t think it’d accept a transfer of
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