Kris was not surprised a few days later when Gramma Trouble arranged for both her and Trouble to drop by for dinner.
The kids loved these two. They filled in a lot of the holes left in their life by absent grandparents and great-grandparents. Grampa Trouble had tales of his adventures, suitably colored for young minds, and misadventures that left them all laughing. After supper, Kris and Jack, Amanda and Jacques, Grampa and Gramma Trouble adjourned to the library for coffee and drinks.
“So, Gramma, Grampa, have you heard about the diplomatic mission to the Iteeche Empire?” Kris asked.
“Who with their nose to any grindstone hasn’t, kitten? And yes, and it’s time and past time we did it,” Grampa Trouble snapped. “We need to normalize things. Get over all the mistakes we made during first contract and get over ourselves. Us vets, included.”
“I’m glad to hear you talking that way,” Kris said. “My problem is the economy. We have all kinds of huge corporations all set to make massive amounts of money, and I don’t have any idea what we’re headed into. Amanda and Jacques are my leads for economic and sociological issues, but they can’t tell me much. Did you, or anyone in the army fighting the Iteeche learn anything about their economy?”
Grampa Trouble glanced at Ruth, then seemed to settle back in his chair as she leaned forward. “During the war, I worked with a certain Becky Graven. You should look her up.”
“She met with me a few days ago, Gramma. What did you do for Becky?”
“Whatever I could do to keep the Iteeche fed and not killing each other while we were occupying their planets,” Ruth said.
“She told me about the problems feeding them and how you couldn’t figure out the culture or economy. She didn’t tell me anything about them killing each other.”
“It was hard to say exactly where all the bodies came from,” Gramma Trouble said, glancing at Grampa Trouble. “We had food riots when the we ran low on their staple food, the tubers they ate raw or cooked. We had people dying of epidemics. Did she tell you about our problems with their sewage systems?”
“She did,” Kris admitted.
“Sewage, water, power? We couldn’t get any of them back up or find the Iteeche who could. We got zero cooperation from them. And every morning, among the bodies were Iteeche horribly killed. Bodies mutilated. We never found anyone in the act. We could never figure out why they were killing each other. It was crazy.”
“How did you finally learn enough about their language to get peace negotiations going?”
Now the older couple did exchange glances.
“One of my patrols came across a couple of dozen Iteeche in pretty nice clothes.” General Trouble said. “You have to understand, most Iteeche were naked or just had a pair of pants to their name. These folks had full dress outfits. Mostly green, with some white, although there were a few gray and golds among them. The patrol found them heading down the road toward them, all four arms over their heads.”
Grampa Trouble shook his head. “They just kind of followed us home. My people were smart enough not to get too close, but not to try to tie them up. Some lieutenant was the first human to show a willingness to take a chance. Well, I guess those Iteeche took the first chance. They got passed up to me. Between your grandmother here, and Becky, we found we had some linguistic resources on planet. It took a while. Boy, Nelly, could we have used your skill set back then. Finally, we started to build a dictionary. That was when we discovered that depending on who you were talking to, the words were different. Every noun. Every verb had to be different depending on your status in the pecking order and the person you were talking to. Good Lord!”
“And then we got chased off the planet,” Gramma Trouble said. “Becky made sure we got the language team off first. Ray made sure they were pulled well back and out of harm’s way, but not so far that we line beasts lost control of them. What a war! The farther you went from the front lines, the more bloodthirsty the people were.”
“Hell has no fury like a non-combatant,” Kris muttered.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Trouble said.
“Didn’t you find out anything from them about Iteeche culture, economics, or technology?” Kris asked.
“Kris, they were Imperial advisors,” Ruth said. “I don’t really think they knew how to change a light bulb or even turn on a light. They had servants. Slaves. Whatever. They did everything for them. Think of them as philosophers. The Navy officers knew a few practical things, but not a lot. They commanded. They had artificers to handle all the technical side of their ships.”
Kris found herself scrubbing at her face and was glad she’d already washed off the light coat of makeup she’d put on that morning. “These folks really are alien,” she half muttered to herself.
“That’s what we came to realize. Stranger and stranger. Curiouser and curiouser,” Grampa Trouble said. He glanced at his wife, and again he leaned back in his chair and she took over the conversation.
“Kris, dear, we’d like to ask you for a favor.”
“Me?” Kris said, caught by surprise. “Whatever you ask, if I can get it for you, it’s yours.”
“Don’t be so quick to offer us old warhorses a free ride,” Ruth said, with a soft chuckle. “We know you’re going deep into the Iteeche Empire. We also know that both you and Jack may be up to your ears in alligators. Or squid, if you’ll allow an old vet the use of a banned term. We’d like to come along with you to be full-time grandparents to Ruth and John.”
Now it was Kris’s turn to retreat back into her chair. She glanced at Jack. He raised her two high eyebrows, but said nothing.
Grampa and Gramma Trouble were about the only two relatives that Kris would risk leaving Ruth and John with. But she’d always assumed they were too busy with the other grandkids and great-grandkids to have time to devote to just two of the battalion of offspring they had.
They were, however, Iteeche War vets. Grampa Trouble had led offensives where millions of Iteeche had died. Gramma Ruth had just now admitted to being involved in operating what Ron the Iteeche called the civilian slave labor death camps that figured prominently in the Iteeche stories of the war.
Becky had said she was not likely to be wanted in the Empire. Were these two any more acceptable?
So, Kris asked that question.
This time, Ruth sat back and Trouble leaned forward. “The Iteeche respect generals. That’s one of the reasons why Ray had to personally negotiate the Treaty of the Orange Nebula with me at his elbow. That’s why, except for Ron’s dad, everyone on the other side of the table were either Navy grey and golds or Army red and blacks. But I’m not asking to come with you as a general or a vet or any of those other jobs. I want to be Ruth and Johnnie’s grampa.”
“You two are going to be busy out of your mind,” Ruth put in. “We remember what it was like. We left our kids back in the rear areas. We and Ray and Rita. We all know how well that worked out with Al. Alnaba won’t get within a quarter of the galaxy of her dad, Ray. We lost Sarah, but were lucky enough to have had a second chance at being parents. Please let us stand in for you two while you are doing everything you have to do to make this happen between us and the Iteeche.”
“We’re not asking for a job,” the old general said earnestly. “We don’t want to be included in your council of war. Let us be the anchor that helps Ruth and John stay close to you.”
“I, ah, I wasn’t expecting this,” Kris admitted.
“Honey, you’re Trouble once again,” Gramma Ruth said, swatting at her husband.
“Give us a few days to think this over,” Kris said. At the moment, she was ready to jump on it. Of late, she’d learned to spend more time looking at things that looked like a good idea at the time.