MacAulliffe Farm, 1 January, 3068...
NIOPS power-armoured troops driving Nighthawk PAL units were, (especially while bored) pretty good at construction. Deb mused on that, while she watched Company C of the NIOPS team putting up the new Horse Arena, one fitted with bleachers, and the Kitchen section of Patrol 12, Coast Guard, finished digging and lining the barbecue pit.
"Happy birthday, Debbie." Al Monroe said from behind her, and Deb jumped a bit. "Not 'til th' Fo'teenth." she reminded him.
"Yeah, I know." He said, and sat down on the porch next to her. "The guys seem to be happy to have something to do that isn't admin or patrol work. You talked to the Adders and the Scorps yet?"
"Ah did. Th' Addahs will be sendin' som'on t' th' meetin'." she told him, "Speak theah piece, an' they'ah lettin' th' civvies in theah areah send reps sep'rate."
"Got your speech ready?" he asked.
"Ah'll have t' do it in spanish." she said sheepishly, "Ah am told thet mah accent in English is damneah imposs'ble fo' most people, but since th' DeSotos used Spanish, most everyone bein sent c'n understan' it."
"That doesn't make-wait, you're joking." Al said.
She grinned and nodded, "Ah am, Ah c'n...Speak Clearly when I have time to prepare." her voice kept some of the lilt, and a tiny hint of the drawl-drawn out musically, she then frowned, "Hahdah t'Do in Germuhn...hard t'find a Rythm, an' Ah don't speak it wuth a shit t'begin with."
"Let me guess...singing lessons?" he asked.
She nodded, and singsonged, "singing is not as much fun as reading, and it makes my throat sore if I do it too much, but most folks still alive are not exactly big readers...who's that?" she pointed as a black car rumbled up the drive, escorted fore-and-aft by Coastguard flagged four-by-fours.
Al checked a readout on his PADD. "THAT would be Duchess Ngo from Kowloon." He said, "The LAS Kowloon and its escorts are in-system...I guess she argued her way to a landing."
The car pulled up on the open gravel of the new parking lot, and the side door opened, giving Debbie and Major Monroe a good look at Elizabeth Ngo as she got out.
Elizabeth Ngo was...petite. Slightly shorter than average, thin, with thick black hair spilling over a pale complexion fixed in a look of concentration made more severe by the thick glasses she wore, and her figure was flattered-to a point. Five months' pregnant is hard to hide.
Still, Duchess Ngo walked up the remaining twenty meters with a pace that told the world "Keep up or back off".
"Y'grace!" Debbie curtsied...
"Are you Debra MacAulliffe?" Liz asked, and before Debbie could answer, "Of course you are. Nice house, you realize I've been reading about you since July...oh, dammit, get up, I'm not your better, hell, you're the closest thing to my social equal on this whole planet-everyone else is either better, or worse...stand up and let me have a look at you!"
For some reason, Debbie was reminded of her grandmother-though Duchess Ngo was younger by some years than her father had been.
"We'com t'mah home." Debbie said, "Y'r Grace."
"Look, we're not around a bunch of people who care, but I'm glad you know your manners, I want to hear something from you-and it isn't honorifics..." Liz said testily, "What kind of government are you hoping to build here? What kind of vision do you have for Arluna? And speak quick, I'm not a well woman, and my time is ticking fast, I want to know if I want to back you or smash you flat-so Start Talking."
Al reflected that the reports on the Duchess were entirely and absolutely correct-the woman was intense, blunt, aggressive, and, despite her size, intimidating.
"Someday, the fields were green,
someday my home was beautiful,
Someday my world was peaceful.
We will be again.
Our kin lay in quiet ground,
from empty roads to empty town,
but someday it will live again.
We will be stronger, then. We will be our own again."
Deb stopped.
"Good start." Liz stated flatly, "Not a great one, but a good start. We'll talk about specifics on the way to Tharkad after your meeting. When I talked to Tom Howe about what he wanted, he kept talking about what was in it for HIM. I'll hang around and watch the meeting, if you can move those folks in the right direction, it'll make this a lot easier. Don't think I'm going to cut you a break just because you turn seventeen in a couple weeks-I was managing a civil war at fifteen, I expect a similar level of performance from you-the singing is a nice touch-people are a lot easier to reach if they can't get a tune out of their heads."
"Tharkad?" Al and Debbie both asked at the same time.
"Yeah, a new Duchess has to swear to the Archon, that's easier on Tharkad, it makes it a lot harder to challenge the legitimacy of the elevation." Liz said, "So...come about May, you're going to be in front of the Archon of the Lyran Alliance, where, at the recommendation of members of the Advisory Council, and with the acknowledgement of the Estates General, he's going to make you a Duchess, which should fill your five-year obligation to the State, after which, you're coming back here, to fix this mess...with help." Elizabeth stated it as if it were entirely a done deal, "If I keel over before you get there, Maggie Doons will be the primary sponsor, If not, then she's my co-sponsor of record...in the meantime, I'm told you have a mild speech impediment, so you're going to be spending some of that intervening time with a certfied speech therapist and a bunch of tutors who can show you the ropes of your new job-you've got to learn statecraft, economics, criminal justice and land-law...though I expect a Farmer's daughter knows a bit on the last two."
"What if she refuses?" Al asked, curious...
"Drafted, ever heard of it?" Liz told him, "It's either the ducal seat, or the infantry for five years, and I guarantee, an infantry berth is going to be hell on earth, I have ways to make CERTAIN of it."
