The Gripping Hand by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle Page B

dropped. "And it's not all that easy to buy an atom bomb."
     
     

    "That might stop amateurs."
     
     

    "Oh, all right," Ruth said. "Drop it, huh? It's a depressing thought."
     
     

    "It's something we live with," Riley said. "Look, we have ways to spot the crazies. And generally professionals won't try because it won't do them any good. Everybody knows the royal family's never all in the same place. Prince Aeneas doesn't even live on this planet. Blow up Serpens and you'll get the Fleet mad as hell, but you won't kill the Empire. One thing we do not do—sir—is tell everybody on a random tour bus all about the defenses!"
     
     

    "And one thing I don't do," Renner answered, and his voice had dropped low, "is guard my mouth. It would prevent me from learning things. Even so: sorry."
     
     

    Riley grunted. "Yes, sir. Look over there. Those are the fish farms." He pointed to a series of brightly colored sea patches divided by low walls. "That's another good racket. Fish from offplanet don't do well out in Sparta's oceans. You want sea bass or ocean cat, it'll come from here or someplace like it."
     
     

     
     
     

    The limousine was waiting at the hotel. Bury wasn't smiling. When they were airborne, he looked to Ruth. "What did Kevin do this time?"
     
     

    "Eh?"
     
     

    "The Secret Service asked me to verify that this was indeed my pilot, Sir Kevin Renner. Asked me ."
     
     

    "Oh," Ruth said. "Well, he did talk about lobbing an atom bomb at the Palace."
     
     

    Bury did not look amused. "I would prefer not to be thrown off this planet."
     
     

    "It wouldn't help my career much," Ruth said. "Look, maybe I better talk to them."
     
     

    "You need not bother," Bury said. "Once they were certain of his identity they lost interest."
     
     

    "Now I know I want to see your file, Kevin," Ruth said.
     
     

    The limousine stayed low over the outskirts of the central district. Massive granite buildings stood next to parks.
     
     

    Ruth stared through binoculars. "Department of Public Health," she read. "Stock Exchange. Wow, that's the Colonial Office! It doesn't look big enough."
     
     

    "Nor is it," Bury said. "That building houses the offices that might be of interest to the general public, and the secretary of state. The computer and most of the offices are scattered all over the city. Many are below ground."
     
     

    "Maybe someday they'll build a new building and put everything in one place," Ruth said.
     
     

    Bury chuckled. "That is the new building. You would not suppose its cost, most of it paid for by taxes on interstellar trade."
     
     

    "It doesn't look new," Renner said.
     
     

    "No government building looks new," Bury said. "They are deliberately done in classical styles. Some show Russian influence."
     
     

    "I see plenty of skyscrapers and tall walls, though," Renner said.
     
     

    "Certainly. Sparta is the financial center of the Empire," Bury said. "Land near the city is very costly. Only the government could afford anything as inefficient as classical architecture. Ah. To illustrate—"
     
     

    He pointed. "The Blaine Institute."
     
     

    The Institute looked south at ocean beaches. The complex of buildings rose up the side of a steep cliff. Balconies broke the steep lines, and halfway up was a large flat roof dotted with small trees and picnic tables.
     
     

    The limousine landed on the roof. Two ramrod-straight young men opened the doors and helped Bury into his travel chair. The ocean breeze was brisk on the rooftop. Sunlight danced on wave-tops below. Ruth stretched and took a deep breath. She turned to Renner, but he wasn't looking at her.
     
     

    Renner stared at a large elderly man in police uniform coming toward them. "Kelley," he said. "Gunner Kelley."
     
     

    "That's me, Sir Kevin. Your Excellency."
     
     

    "By damn, it is you. Ruth, this is Gunner Kelley. Imperial Marines. He was in MacArthur . Kelley, this is Lieutenant Commander Ruth