The Gripping Hand by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle Page A

flew west and dropped even lower (the ride became bumpy) to fly above a huge cargo ship. Big stabilizer fins showed with the roll of the waves, waves the size of small hills. There were pleasure boats, too, graceful sailing boats that rolled as they climbed up and down the water mountains; their sails were constantly shifting along the masts.
     
     

    The bus skimmed over a big island patterned in rectangles of farmland. "That's the Devil Crab," Riley said. "Two sugarcane plantations and maybe a hundred independents. I'd love to be a farmer. They don't pay taxes."
     
     

    Renner jumped. "Hey?"
     
     

    "Population's dense on Sparta. The cost of land on Serpens is . . . well, I never tried to buy any, but it's way up there. If the farmers didn't get some kind of break, they'd all sell out to the people who build hotels. Then all the food would have to be shipped in from far away, and where would the Emperor get his fresh fruit?"
     
     

    "Wow! No taxes. What about these guys below us?"
     
     

    "They don't pay either. Transport costs are high, and the produce isn't as fresh when it gets to Serpens. The Serpens farmers can still compete. Even so, this is the way I'd go. Lease an island a thousand klicks from Serpens and raise beef. There's no room to raise red meat on this part of Serpens."
     
     

    They veered away from another rocky island that seemed to be covered with a patchwork of concrete slabs and domes. "There's some of the defense stuff," Renner said. "Battle management radars, and I'd bet there are some pretty hefty lasers in there."
     
     

    "It's a good guess, but I wouldn't know," Riley said.
     
     

    Presently the bus turned north and east and flew toward the narrow hooked spit that enclosed the harbor from the west. "That was the prison colony back in CoDominium days," Riley said. "If you look close, you can see where the old wall was. Ran right across the peninsula."
     
     

    "There? It's mostly parks," Ruth said. "Or—"
     
     

    "Rose gardens," Riley said. "When Lysander II tore down the old prison walls, he gave all that area to the public. There's the rose festival every year. Citizen fraternities compete, and it's a big deal. We do tours every other day, if you're interested."
     
     

    "Where's Blaine Institute?" Ruth asked.
     
     

    "Off east. To the right there. See that mountain covered with buildings?"
     
     

    "Yes—it looks like an old painting I saw once."
     
     

    " That's the Blaine Institute?" Renner said. "Captain Blaine's richer than I suspected. And to think I knew him . . ."
     
     

    "Did you, sir?" Riley sounded impressed. "But that's the Biology section of Imperial University. The Institute is the smaller area next to it." He offered his binoculars. "And Blaine Manor sits on the hill just east of that. Would you like a tour of the Institute?"
     
     

    "Thanks, we'll be there this afternoon," Ruth said.
     
     

    The bus crossed the narrow spit and then stayed well out over the harbor. The sun had burned off most of the cloud cover over the city. The skyline was a jumble of shapes: in the center and to the south were massive square skyscrapers, thin towers, tall buildings connected by bridges a thousand feet above street level. North of that were lower granite buildings in a classic style. In the center were the green parks of the Palace district.
     
     

    Renner looked thoughtful. "Ruth, think about it. The Emperor is over there. Just lob a big fusion bomb in the general direction of the Palace . . ."
     
     

    He stopped because everyone on the bus was looking at him.
     
     

    "Hey! I'm a Naval Reserve officer!" he said quickly. "I'm trying to figure out how you keep someone else from doing it. With this many people on Sparta, and visitors from everywhere, there's bound to be crazies."
     
     

    "We get our share, Sir Kevin." Riley emphasized the title so everyone would hear it.
     
     

    "We do check on people coming to Sparta," Ruth said. Her voice had