Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [121]
He pulled back and held me out at arm’s length. “Emperor’s black bones, you shouldn’t be here.”
“I had to come. I’ve been away too long.” I glanced back at the house. “Many changes.”
My grandfather’s smile broadened and a sinister laugh accompanied it. “Yes, there have been many changes.” He waved me toward the greenhouse across the far side of the garden. “If you would join me, I’ll show you some of my newer efforts. Prize winners, all.”
I dropped into step with him and said nothing until we had reached the greenhouse and stepped inside. My grandfather stripped off his jacket and hung it on a peg inside the doorway. He flipped a couple of switches, and glowpanels went on with all but one of them. The rising illumination revealed row after row of potting benches covered with seedlings, all the way to the back to the small bay of machines he used for genetically manipulating flowers for color and size of blossom.
He gave me a cautious grin. “We’re safe to speak in here—I have it swept each week.”
“Good.” I glanced back at the house. “What happened to your house?”
“You may recall I had something of a reputation for maintaining all sorts of files on local politicians, Imperial liaisons and the like? When CorSec became the Public Safety Service it was determined that my files would be an embarrassment. It was further assumed that I had them in the house. A mysterious fire consumed the house, and then the house you grew up in.”
He kept his voice low, but full of curious tones that suggested he found the fires somewhat funny. “What they discovered was that there were multiple copies of my files all over, in computer systems new and old. The encryption keys were what they lacked. A few people suddenly found interesting files on activities they would have preferred to keep hidden arriving on datacards in their homes, usually accompanied by a flower or two that were easily identified as a hybrid I’d created. The implications were clear, so, in recompense for my long years of service to CorSec, and to protect me—since now I am considered a treasure for my horticultural skills—the government bought up and ceded to me all this land. They built my new home and filled it with all sorts of interesting mechanical listening devices and scanners. Tosruk and the rest of the staff report regularly to petty officials—though those officials don’t realize that the staff’s loyalty is to me. The very files used by the officials to choose staffers who could be manipulated were files I created.”
I laughed aloud. “I thought, when you retired, you wanted to leave all this sort of thing behind.”
He nodded. “I would have been more than happy to, but others who want power were not content to leave me alone. Unfortunately, they have neither the grace nor sense for me to leave them alone, either.” He reached out and caressed the leaves of a small plant. “Now I can send a seedling to someone with a note suggesting I had read of this opinion or that which he holds. If I say I am disappointed, their thinking tends to be modified. If I say I support them, they move more strongly in that direction. I choose my targets and my issues carefully. I seek to curb the excesses of the young and foolish, or old and foolish. There’s even talk among the shadowy cabal of pundits who advise leaders about what it means for me to send a live plant versus a cut bouquet, or the true significance of a night blooming flower versus something that blooms once and dies.”
My grandfather smiled at me. “But you didn’t come here to ask after my gardens or to listen to me natter on about warping the small minds of politicians, did you?”
“I’m happy to see you, of course, and I do want to hear about your life, and tell you about mine.”
His smile broadened indulgently. “The name you chose to greet me and what you did out there tells me why you are here. You want to know what your father left behind for you, don’t you?”
I nodded slowly. “You don’t mind?