"You must stop saying, in the name of His Majesty the King," Peter Christian told his brother. "There is no king over us any more."
"I know, I know. Force of habit! All those years..."
"I understand."
Peter and Paul Christian lapsed into a gloomy silence as they contemplated the vast number of years that they had lived and perforce, the tiny number of years they still had left to live. They were seated in Peter's office in Adamstown's town hall. Paul's office was next door: they chose Peter's for the meeting with Cruz because they'd forgotten to get rid of all the British flags and crests decorating Paul's office.
Pitcairn Islands were no longer a British Overseas Territory. There was no Britain any more. Pitcairn was independent, just like Scotland and Wales. Well, supposedly Pitcairn was ruled by the World Council in New York, the seat of power of the new global government - the capital of the whole Old World. But New York was very far away.
Early that morning, the ashen-faced radio operator brought the brothers twenty pages of transcripts made from transmissions received during the night. Then he staggered off to finally get some sleep while the brothers perused the pages they'd received with great attention.
By the time Cruz woke up, had a brief nervous breakdown, and began his preparations for the meeting, the brothers had read and discussed what they had read. By the time he showed up, they had an ambitious plan. They'd also agreed Cruz might be useful in helping them realize that plan: to make Pitcairn a major player on the New World scene. This would automatically make Pitcairn's people - all forty two of them - the richest people in the Old World.
But to achieve this lofty goal, Pitcairn needed more Old World people. People who could be replicated in Pitcairn's New World colony. There were only eight women of child-bearing age on Pitcairn; this wasn't a problem that could be alleviated through reproduction.
The Christian brothers had a good idea who Cruz was. His business successes had brought Cruz great fame. Hundreds of thousands of people worked for him, in one way or another. Given the crisis that had followed the catastrophe, plenty of those people would be more than willing to replicate in the New World.
The Pitcairn colony needed those people. It was a matter that called for very careful handling. It wouldn't be good if Cruz realized how much they needed him. Fortunately, right at this moment he also needed help, very badly. The Christian brothers were determined to squeeze every last drop of advantage from this circumstance. But they agreed they'd be nice about it: after all, Cruz would become a partner of sorts if they were successful. It didn't do to alienate a prospective partner.
They even regretted their earlier insistence that Cruz pay for his crew's lodging and food with his gold baubles. But their regret wasn't strong enough to back out of that deal: gold was gold. They decided they'd butter up Cruz any way they could, instead.
And so, when Cruz entered the mayor's chamber, just a little late - it was three minutes past the agreed ten o'clock - the brothers rose from their seats to greet him with affable smiles. It was a striking change of attitude, and Cruz was immediately suspicious.
He examined the rulers of Pitcairn with a critical eye. They had both worn hats when he'd arrived: Paul a ridiculous bowler, Peter an equally silly trilby with a feather stuck in the headband. Now their heads were bare, and he could see that they didn't have implants. It didn't mean much: if Pitcairn had gotten its own cube as Cruz suspected, the brothers would have plenty of implants at their disposal. They could easily afford to waste a couple by removing theirs for the meeting with Cruz.
He was sure all of Pitcairn was on the New World thing. When he was walking to the meeting, he'd encountered a couple of the island's inhabitants. One had hurriedly put on a baseball cap the moment he saw Cruz; the other suddenly developed an itch just above his ear, and kept scratching his head until Cruz had passed. Cruz felt a fresh wave of dislike for Pitcairn and its lying, deceitful, avaricious inhabitants.
But his dislike started to melt away when the brothers' secretary brought in the coffee. It was freshly brewed, and accompanied by a big plate of biscuits. Cruz had to make a real effort not to cram several in his mouth right away. This was heaven! He was beginning to revise his earlier opinion that Pitcairn wasn't part of the civilized world.
He mellowed visibly after he'd eaten half a dozen biscuits, and drank two cups of coffee. The brothers exchanged glances, and Peter said:
"You mentioned last night part of your crew and your business partner are on Henderson, awaiting help. Do I remember this correctly?"
"Yes," said Cruz. He took a sip of the delicious coffee, dabbed at his lips with a handkerchief, and added:
"I'm glad you brought this up. I would like to ask for your assistance in getting them off the island."
"Of course!" exclaimed Peter; Paul grunted sympathetically. "We'll be happy to help you. It will involve hiring out a couple of longboats with crews, but we've already come to an agreement about that."
"We have?"
"Well, yes. Your watch, bracelet, and neck chain - you didn't think we wanted these merely for your food and lodging? We need to pay the owners of the boats, and also the men that will make the trip."
This was news to Cruz, and it was also news to Paul, the erstwhile governor of Pitcairn: he gave his brother an unhappy look. Peter ignored it, and added:
"I'll make the necessary arrangements the moment this meeting is over. The boats shall leave at dawn tomorrow, and they'll reach Henderson by nightfall."
"I'm very happy to hear that, and very grateful," Cruz said, wondering what was the hidden catch. His life had taught him people didn't become all sweet and helpful without a reason. They always wanted something in return.
"However, we'd like to find out something first," Peter said, smiling ingratiatingly. "Could I ask you a question?"
"Please go ahead," Cruz said, thinking: here it comes.
"When you were on Henderson... You told us you spent quite a few weeks there... Did you happen to come across a big, glowing cube?"
Cruz grinned. They had just presented him with the perfect opening to launch his plan.
"Yes," he said. "Probably very much like the cube you have here. You do have one, don't you?"
They were both silent: he'd surprised them. This gave him control of the conversation, which was exactly what he'd planned. He said:
"Come on. You have a cube on Pitcairn. I can tell."
"Oh?" said Paul. "May I ask how?"
Cruz waved a dismissive hand.
"Gentlemen, we're all grownups here," he said. "Better than that: we've all been grownups for a while. I've been to the New World, and so have you. You've read the documentation from the cube; so have I. And you probably think what I think: Pitcairn and Henderson Island are part of the same land mass in the New World. A land that is unfortunately inhabited by mesozoic life forms which include plenty of predators. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"
He got a hesitant nod from Paul, and an affirmative grunt from Peter. He continued:
"I'm sure you agree it makes sense for us to coordinate our efforts in the New World. Pardon me, I should say your efforts and Rafi's. That's my business partner, currently stranded on Henderson Island. Rafi Susanto? Have you heard of him? No? He's a very smart man, and very rich. And he's very enthusiastic about colonizing the New World. I am not. I have too much to handle on good old Earth to get involved over there."
That floored them. They stared at him with their watery eyes, mouths slightly open. It was time to wrap things up. Cruz said:
"I think we share the same priority: rescue Rafi Susanto from Henderson. It's best that you talk to him as soon as possible. I'll be ready at dawn tomorrow - of course, I must go along. I'd also like to take one of my crewmen with me. An excellent sailor, unlike myself. Is that all right with you? Do I make sense?"
"You want to go back to Henderson?" said Peter.
"You're saying you're not interested in the New World?" said Paul.
"Oh, I am interested. I think it's very exciting. I'll follow your progress with great interest. I just won't be taking part."
"But you're sure mister, er, Susanto wants to take part?" asked Peter.
"Yes."
"Does he... Is he..." said Paul, drawing a stern look from his brother. Cruz smiled.
"Rafi Susanto is a very powerful man," he told them. "You'll be glad to have him in your corner."
He rose from his seat, fighting an impulse to grab the two biscuits that still remained on the plate.
"I must visit my men and see that they are all right," he said. "Are we agreed on everything? Will you send someone tomorrow, or should I find the way to the jetty by myself?"
"Of course I'll send someone," said Peter, jerking his body off the seat. "Of course."
"Of course," echoed Paul, standing up as well. He cleared his throat twice as if he was about to add something, then changed his mind. Cruz beamed at him and Peter.
"So we're all set," he said. "I'm happy we've reached an agreement. By the way, would you be so kind and have some food sent to me and my men? Those biscuits are very nice."
"I'll make sure to include a tin," Peter said. He shook Cruz's offered hand as if in a daze; so did Paul.
"It's been very nice talking to you," said Cruz. "But I really must look in on my men. Maybe we could talk more later? Over dinner? Let me know. I'll be back in my rooms by early afternoon."
He gave them a final smile, and left without waiting for an answer. It was a while before the two brothers sat down again, and when they did they remained silent. They were used to outmaneuvering and manipulating other people. No one had ever done it to them, and with such effortless skill. Cruz hadn't given them the smallest opening to put in a squeeze.
Eventually, Paul said:
"So that's how you become a billionaire."
Peter sighed. In a voice tinged by deep foreboding, he said:
"I wonder what that Susanto character is like."
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