Truesingers
Apr. 2nd, 2008 01:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencer“You always were a rotten shot, Kit,” Suncat said.
The dressing room had been hastily cleared so that the medics could work. Suncat was sitting in a wheelchair, her entire left shoulder and arm immobilised, pale and shivering but alive and conscious.
Amazingly, Kit relaxed. He cocked his head at the security men either side of him, and held up his manacled hands.
“I knew you'd understand,” he said. “Now will you tell these goons to let me go?”
“Why would we do that?” Kaichang's mouth was set in a hard line. Verneen was huddled in a corner, looking up at her and Suncat, but nowhere else. Derwent hovered solicitously. Nevil and Orville stood side by side, out of the way but very much present.
“She understands,” Kit said, as if it were all clear. “I was only trying to frighten her. I meant to miss.”
“With a top-of-the-range plasma rifle, fully charged and set to maximum power?” Kaichang's lip curled. “I don't think so.”
“I don't understand, Kit,” Suncat said. “I really don't.” She hesitated, and winced as a spike of pain got past the drugs. “Did...did our father put you up to this?”
Kit gaped for a moment, and then uttered a half-gasp, half-shout of incredulous laughter. “Oh, I shall definitely tell him you said that,” he crowed. "No, dear perverted little sister, it was all me. I should say, it was I. I arranged the boycott of your ghastly music, I told the servants not to take your calls, and when none of that worked I nearly managed to put a plasma bolt through your rotten little heart, or at least one of those lungs you're so proud of. Oh, but yes, I must tell Father you thought it was him. Maybe then--"
“The only person you'll be telling anything to is the judiciar, sonny boy,” said one of the security men, the one not involved in restraining Kit.
“But...but then why, Kit?” Suncat said, her voice cracking. "Why did you do it?"
“Can it be?” Kit marvelled. “Are you really that stupid?”
“That's enough for now,” said one of the medics, and the security men tried to hustle Kit away.
“Take your hands off me,” he snarled. “Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?”
“I don't think they care,” Kaichang said.
“I am the only son and heir of--”
“You're under arrest on suspicion of attempted murder, is what you are,” said the security man. “And as of right now, you're nobody's son. Get rid of him. lads.”
Kit's ravings and curses died away down the corridor. The security man, about to follow, turned back. “There's someone else who'd like a moment with the lady, if that's all right,” he said to the medic in charge.
“Just a moment, then,” was the reply. “We'll be taking her to Broadfields Main in two minutes, whatever happens.”
The door opened, and Carson Meldrum shambled in, twisting the ends of his shirt in both hands.
“Carson,” Suncat said, and somehow she managed to infuse so much warmth into her voice that everyone looked twice at her, perhaps suspecting a miraculous recovery. “I don't know how we can ever thank you.”
“It wasn't nothing,” Carson mumbled. “Just keep singing, Miss Suncat. That's all I want.”
“I owe you an apology, Mr Meldrum,” Derwent said. “When I followed you up there, I thought it was going to be you shooting at her.”
“I can see where you might think that, Mr Windyridge,” Carson said. “They explained to me about the case and all. I'm real sorry to give you the wrong idea.”
“it's just that—the political situation--” Derwent floundered for a moment, and finished rather lamely, “You don't look like much of an Affiliationist.”
“Guess I'm not at that,” Carson agreed. “Up in Northshores we tend to leave politics to the politicians. But you don't go shooting at folks. It's like Miss Suncat said in the song. Some things ain't up for debate.”
“Actually, I wrote that line,” Kaichang said very quietly.
“So when I saw the rifle poking over the edge of the box I thought I'd go up there and check it out,” Carson continued. “Really wasn't nothing. Anybody would have done the same.”
“That's enough now,” the medic in charge said, adjusting Suncat's drip. “This lady is leaving the building.”
“Derwent, make sure he gets a copy of the album,” Suncat said. “Two. Signed. We'll all sign them, won't we, guys? And I could paint fluffy bunnies all over them. Little pink fluffy bunnies having the most outrageously, wonderfully, orgasmically--” Her voice died away to a mumble, and she closed her eyes.
“Take good care of her,” Derwent said. “I can pay for the best--”
“Oh, that's all taken care of, Mr Windyridge,” said the medic in charge. “We'll give you a call when she's into recovery.”
“Oh,” Derwent said, taken aback. “Who by?”
The medic told him.
*
“It's eight point two dark here in Broadfields on the fourteenth of Brockhurst, year 2415 local calendar, and the eight hundred and twenty-fourth year of the Sagittarian Age. There now follows a special broadcast by Seigneur Elyot Segrave Morningsky of Broadfields Meinie.”
“Good evening. The somewhat tumultuous events of last week have been amply chronicled in the news media, and there is no need for me to recapitulate them. Politically, they might be seen as embarrassing. However, I have always held that embarrassment of any sort is the universe's way of telling you to re-examine your choices, and I have acted accordingly.
“Just over a year ago I said, in a speech which was partially broadcast on this channel, that Argenthome would never seek Affiliation while I remained Seigneur of Broadfields. I told myself then, as all we in the Seigneurie are told when we take office, that I was enacting the will of the people. In fact, I was telling the people what their will should be. That is no part of the task of a ruler, or of...any man.
“The origins of the word 'Seigneur' are lost in the antiquities of Old Earth. It has long been believed that the word 'senior,' meaning simply 'elder,' is its root. I believe, though, that it may have connections to another word, 'soigneur,' meaning 'one who takes care.' A caretaker. That, I firmly believe, is what a Seigneur should be.”
(In a poky, dusty little room not far from the Old Hexagon, an old man looked up from his hot meal, and grinned at the gaudily-coloured bird in a cage by the window. “Hear that?” he said. “That's me. I'm a Seigneur, I am.”)
“Alas, I have been lax in my caretaking. I have allowed myself to fall into the delusion that the people were here to take care of me, to do my will, rather than that I should do theirs. And when some spoke out against my decisions, I closed my ears and would not listen. I became their enemy. Something else that is no part of the task of a ruler, or any man.
“Still I hoped that they might see the error of their ways, that they might return to the fold and become docile and obedient once more. In that I myself was in error. It is not the people's task to obey, but to command. You have commanded, and now it is my task to carry out that command.
“But honour counts for something, even in this new world. I gave a promise, and I dare not break my given word. Therefore, as of the end of this broadcast, I am abdicating as Seigneur of Broadfields, as Presiding Seigneur of the Seigneurie, as caretaker of this planet. I had hoped to pass the burden on to my only son and heir, Kittredge Elyot, but that will not now be possible. I understand that he will be the last criminal of his type to be tried under our ancient planetary law, and thus the last to receive the traditional penalty for attempted murder. I wish I could find it in my heart to regret that fact. However. As a consequence of this, another will now assume the Seigneurship, and he will carry out, under my instruction, my final decision as Seigneur, and apply in the name of this planet for Affiliation to the Sagittarian Accords. I have every confidence in his ability to guide Argenthome into a new and unknown future. Thank you all for your patience. Goodnight.”
There was a pause, and then a new voice issued from the speakers.
“Good—good evening. This is...” It broke off for a while, and then resumed more strongly. “This is Derwent Cathcart Windyridge...Seigneur of Broadfields...”
*
“And he was just getting to be a really good manager too,” Suncat said disgustedly.
“It could have been worse,” Kaichang pointed out. “It could have been you.”
“The first female Seigneur of Argenthome,” Verneen said, framing an imaginary billboard with her hands.
“Uh-uh,” Suncat said. “Not me. Anyway, if there's one thing the Seigneurie needs it's a really good manager.”
“And in the meantime, what do we do?” Kaichang asked. “Once you're off your sick bed and back on the clock, I mean.”
“Well, we could manage ourselves for a while,” Suncat said. “One thing about Derwent was, he was really far too keen on those old traditional ballady things. They're all right once in a while, but you know--” She grinned. “I really enjoyed working with the bass and the drums.”
Kaichang nodded. “I liked working with the axe.”
They both looked at Verneen.
“It was--” She blushed and stopped. “It was nice not to have to play soft all the time.”
“And the fans seem to like the new sound,” Kaichang said. “Oh—we'll have to find another bass player, though. Torres said he had another engagement, he had to leave.”
“Awww.” Suncat pouted for a second, which for her was a long time. “Never mind. If we can't find anyone he'll always come back for me.”
Kaichang tutted. “What have I always taught you about relying on men?”
“Don't, because you can't, and even if you could it wouldn't be worth it,” Suncat recited.
“Right,” Kaichang said. “And anyway, even if--”
“Excuse me,” said a voice. “I hope I'm not interrupting something.”
“Daddy,” Suncat said blankly, as Elyot Segrave Morningsky entered the room. He stopped at the foot of the bed, staring at his daughter.
“So,” Suncat said. “I gather we're Affiliated.”
“Provisionally,” said Morningsky, “pending assessment of our socio-economic progress. The entire planet is in a ferment. Utter chaos reigns. You should enjoy it.”
“Stuck here, unfortunately.” Suncat indicated her dressing. “Another day or so.”
“I have accumulated a lifetime's worth of regrets,” Morningsky said. “But this one dwarfs them all, that I let that happen to you. And at the hands of--” His voice failed him.
"I'm sorry," Suncat said. "About Kit. I never realised..."
"Nor did I."
Kaichang and Verneen exchanged quick glances, and quietly sidled towards the door. A moment later they were in the corridor.
“Mushy stuff,” Kaichang said dismissively. “Never could stand it.”
“Nor me,” Verneen said with great resolution, and only one backward glance at the door.
“Want to get a coffee or something? I've had a couple of ideas for lyrics I wanted to run past you.”
“Just me?” Verneen looked alarmed. “What about--”
“She's going to be busy for at least an hour. Besides, we need to find a bass player, preferably female. I've got the music papers right here, and I've looked through the classifieds, and--”
They walked on down the hospital corridor, while far above their heads the first Sagittarian comsats glided into their orbits, and Argenthome's history quietly and unobtrusively embarked on a new chapter.
Appendix
The Sagittarian Accords
1.There shall be no more empires.
2.There shall be no more slaves.
3.There shall be no more wars.
4.There shall be no more outcasts.
5.There shall be no more secrets.
6.There shall be one currency in space.
7.There shall be one calendar in space.
8.There shall be one language in space.
9.There shall be one law in space.
10.There shall be one kind in space.
11.No wealth shall outweigh justice.
12.No fear shall outweigh truth.
13.No law shall outweigh life.
14.No power shall outweigh freedom.
15.No thing shall outweigh a person.
The dressing room had been hastily cleared so that the medics could work. Suncat was sitting in a wheelchair, her entire left shoulder and arm immobilised, pale and shivering but alive and conscious.
Amazingly, Kit relaxed. He cocked his head at the security men either side of him, and held up his manacled hands.
“I knew you'd understand,” he said. “Now will you tell these goons to let me go?”
“Why would we do that?” Kaichang's mouth was set in a hard line. Verneen was huddled in a corner, looking up at her and Suncat, but nowhere else. Derwent hovered solicitously. Nevil and Orville stood side by side, out of the way but very much present.
“She understands,” Kit said, as if it were all clear. “I was only trying to frighten her. I meant to miss.”
“With a top-of-the-range plasma rifle, fully charged and set to maximum power?” Kaichang's lip curled. “I don't think so.”
“I don't understand, Kit,” Suncat said. “I really don't.” She hesitated, and winced as a spike of pain got past the drugs. “Did...did our father put you up to this?”
Kit gaped for a moment, and then uttered a half-gasp, half-shout of incredulous laughter. “Oh, I shall definitely tell him you said that,” he crowed. "No, dear perverted little sister, it was all me. I should say, it was I. I arranged the boycott of your ghastly music, I told the servants not to take your calls, and when none of that worked I nearly managed to put a plasma bolt through your rotten little heart, or at least one of those lungs you're so proud of. Oh, but yes, I must tell Father you thought it was him. Maybe then--"
“The only person you'll be telling anything to is the judiciar, sonny boy,” said one of the security men, the one not involved in restraining Kit.
“But...but then why, Kit?” Suncat said, her voice cracking. "Why did you do it?"
“Can it be?” Kit marvelled. “Are you really that stupid?”
“That's enough for now,” said one of the medics, and the security men tried to hustle Kit away.
“Take your hands off me,” he snarled. “Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?”
“I don't think they care,” Kaichang said.
“I am the only son and heir of--”
“You're under arrest on suspicion of attempted murder, is what you are,” said the security man. “And as of right now, you're nobody's son. Get rid of him. lads.”
Kit's ravings and curses died away down the corridor. The security man, about to follow, turned back. “There's someone else who'd like a moment with the lady, if that's all right,” he said to the medic in charge.
“Just a moment, then,” was the reply. “We'll be taking her to Broadfields Main in two minutes, whatever happens.”
The door opened, and Carson Meldrum shambled in, twisting the ends of his shirt in both hands.
“Carson,” Suncat said, and somehow she managed to infuse so much warmth into her voice that everyone looked twice at her, perhaps suspecting a miraculous recovery. “I don't know how we can ever thank you.”
“It wasn't nothing,” Carson mumbled. “Just keep singing, Miss Suncat. That's all I want.”
“I owe you an apology, Mr Meldrum,” Derwent said. “When I followed you up there, I thought it was going to be you shooting at her.”
“I can see where you might think that, Mr Windyridge,” Carson said. “They explained to me about the case and all. I'm real sorry to give you the wrong idea.”
“it's just that—the political situation--” Derwent floundered for a moment, and finished rather lamely, “You don't look like much of an Affiliationist.”
“Guess I'm not at that,” Carson agreed. “Up in Northshores we tend to leave politics to the politicians. But you don't go shooting at folks. It's like Miss Suncat said in the song. Some things ain't up for debate.”
“Actually, I wrote that line,” Kaichang said very quietly.
“So when I saw the rifle poking over the edge of the box I thought I'd go up there and check it out,” Carson continued. “Really wasn't nothing. Anybody would have done the same.”
“That's enough now,” the medic in charge said, adjusting Suncat's drip. “This lady is leaving the building.”
“Derwent, make sure he gets a copy of the album,” Suncat said. “Two. Signed. We'll all sign them, won't we, guys? And I could paint fluffy bunnies all over them. Little pink fluffy bunnies having the most outrageously, wonderfully, orgasmically--” Her voice died away to a mumble, and she closed her eyes.
“Take good care of her,” Derwent said. “I can pay for the best--”
“Oh, that's all taken care of, Mr Windyridge,” said the medic in charge. “We'll give you a call when she's into recovery.”
“Oh,” Derwent said, taken aback. “Who by?”
The medic told him.
*
“It's eight point two dark here in Broadfields on the fourteenth of Brockhurst, year 2415 local calendar, and the eight hundred and twenty-fourth year of the Sagittarian Age. There now follows a special broadcast by Seigneur Elyot Segrave Morningsky of Broadfields Meinie.”
“Good evening. The somewhat tumultuous events of last week have been amply chronicled in the news media, and there is no need for me to recapitulate them. Politically, they might be seen as embarrassing. However, I have always held that embarrassment of any sort is the universe's way of telling you to re-examine your choices, and I have acted accordingly.
“Just over a year ago I said, in a speech which was partially broadcast on this channel, that Argenthome would never seek Affiliation while I remained Seigneur of Broadfields. I told myself then, as all we in the Seigneurie are told when we take office, that I was enacting the will of the people. In fact, I was telling the people what their will should be. That is no part of the task of a ruler, or of...any man.
“The origins of the word 'Seigneur' are lost in the antiquities of Old Earth. It has long been believed that the word 'senior,' meaning simply 'elder,' is its root. I believe, though, that it may have connections to another word, 'soigneur,' meaning 'one who takes care.' A caretaker. That, I firmly believe, is what a Seigneur should be.”
(In a poky, dusty little room not far from the Old Hexagon, an old man looked up from his hot meal, and grinned at the gaudily-coloured bird in a cage by the window. “Hear that?” he said. “That's me. I'm a Seigneur, I am.”)
“Alas, I have been lax in my caretaking. I have allowed myself to fall into the delusion that the people were here to take care of me, to do my will, rather than that I should do theirs. And when some spoke out against my decisions, I closed my ears and would not listen. I became their enemy. Something else that is no part of the task of a ruler, or any man.
“Still I hoped that they might see the error of their ways, that they might return to the fold and become docile and obedient once more. In that I myself was in error. It is not the people's task to obey, but to command. You have commanded, and now it is my task to carry out that command.
“But honour counts for something, even in this new world. I gave a promise, and I dare not break my given word. Therefore, as of the end of this broadcast, I am abdicating as Seigneur of Broadfields, as Presiding Seigneur of the Seigneurie, as caretaker of this planet. I had hoped to pass the burden on to my only son and heir, Kittredge Elyot, but that will not now be possible. I understand that he will be the last criminal of his type to be tried under our ancient planetary law, and thus the last to receive the traditional penalty for attempted murder. I wish I could find it in my heart to regret that fact. However. As a consequence of this, another will now assume the Seigneurship, and he will carry out, under my instruction, my final decision as Seigneur, and apply in the name of this planet for Affiliation to the Sagittarian Accords. I have every confidence in his ability to guide Argenthome into a new and unknown future. Thank you all for your patience. Goodnight.”
There was a pause, and then a new voice issued from the speakers.
“Good—good evening. This is...” It broke off for a while, and then resumed more strongly. “This is Derwent Cathcart Windyridge...Seigneur of Broadfields...”
*
“And he was just getting to be a really good manager too,” Suncat said disgustedly.
“It could have been worse,” Kaichang pointed out. “It could have been you.”
“The first female Seigneur of Argenthome,” Verneen said, framing an imaginary billboard with her hands.
“Uh-uh,” Suncat said. “Not me. Anyway, if there's one thing the Seigneurie needs it's a really good manager.”
“And in the meantime, what do we do?” Kaichang asked. “Once you're off your sick bed and back on the clock, I mean.”
“Well, we could manage ourselves for a while,” Suncat said. “One thing about Derwent was, he was really far too keen on those old traditional ballady things. They're all right once in a while, but you know--” She grinned. “I really enjoyed working with the bass and the drums.”
Kaichang nodded. “I liked working with the axe.”
They both looked at Verneen.
“It was--” She blushed and stopped. “It was nice not to have to play soft all the time.”
“And the fans seem to like the new sound,” Kaichang said. “Oh—we'll have to find another bass player, though. Torres said he had another engagement, he had to leave.”
“Awww.” Suncat pouted for a second, which for her was a long time. “Never mind. If we can't find anyone he'll always come back for me.”
Kaichang tutted. “What have I always taught you about relying on men?”
“Don't, because you can't, and even if you could it wouldn't be worth it,” Suncat recited.
“Right,” Kaichang said. “And anyway, even if--”
“Excuse me,” said a voice. “I hope I'm not interrupting something.”
“Daddy,” Suncat said blankly, as Elyot Segrave Morningsky entered the room. He stopped at the foot of the bed, staring at his daughter.
“So,” Suncat said. “I gather we're Affiliated.”
“Provisionally,” said Morningsky, “pending assessment of our socio-economic progress. The entire planet is in a ferment. Utter chaos reigns. You should enjoy it.”
“Stuck here, unfortunately.” Suncat indicated her dressing. “Another day or so.”
“I have accumulated a lifetime's worth of regrets,” Morningsky said. “But this one dwarfs them all, that I let that happen to you. And at the hands of--” His voice failed him.
"I'm sorry," Suncat said. "About Kit. I never realised..."
"Nor did I."
Kaichang and Verneen exchanged quick glances, and quietly sidled towards the door. A moment later they were in the corridor.
“Mushy stuff,” Kaichang said dismissively. “Never could stand it.”
“Nor me,” Verneen said with great resolution, and only one backward glance at the door.
“Want to get a coffee or something? I've had a couple of ideas for lyrics I wanted to run past you.”
“Just me?” Verneen looked alarmed. “What about--”
“She's going to be busy for at least an hour. Besides, we need to find a bass player, preferably female. I've got the music papers right here, and I've looked through the classifieds, and--”
They walked on down the hospital corridor, while far above their heads the first Sagittarian comsats glided into their orbits, and Argenthome's history quietly and unobtrusively embarked on a new chapter.
The Sagittarian Accords
1.There shall be no more empires.
2.There shall be no more slaves.
3.There shall be no more wars.
4.There shall be no more outcasts.
5.There shall be no more secrets.
6.There shall be one currency in space.
7.There shall be one calendar in space.
8.There shall be one language in space.
9.There shall be one law in space.
10.There shall be one kind in space.
11.No wealth shall outweigh justice.
12.No fear shall outweigh truth.
13.No law shall outweigh life.
14.No power shall outweigh freedom.
15.No thing shall outweigh a person.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 01:15 am (UTC)Well done! What a way to end it... too bad Derwent is now in charge, but oh well. All's good in the end. :-)
no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 10:13 am (UTC)That remains to be seen. He'll either be the JFK of Argenthome or deadlocked in his attempts to make everyone happy all at once. At least he's shown he can listen.
Good story, dear friend! Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 10:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 11:38 pm (UTC)