Echoes Of Honor

planet now, I—'

He stopped, eyes abruptly wide, and Benjamin and Prestwick looked at one another. Prestwick started to speak again, but the Protector raised a hand, stopping him from interrupting whatever thought had suddenly struck Clinkscales, and then settled back in his own chair with an expression of intense curiosity. More than two full minutes passed, and then Clinkscales began to smile. He shook himself and made a small, apologetic gesture towards Benjamin.

'Forgive me, Your Grace,' he said, 'but I've just had an idea.'

'So we noticed,' Benjamin said so dryly the old man chuckled. 'And just what idea would that have been?'

'Well, Your Grace, we do have another solution to our problem. One that would accord perfectly with out own law—and, I believe, with Manticore's—and keep the Key out of my hands, praise God fasting!'

'Indeed?' Protector and Chancellor exchanged glances, and then Benjamin quirked a polite eyebrow at Clinkscales. 'And just what is this marvelous solution which has so far evaded myself, Henry, the High Court, and Reverend Sullivan?'

'Lady Harrington's mother is here on Grayson,' Clinkscales replied.

'I'm aware of that, Howard,' Benjamin said patiently, frowning at the apparent non sequitur. 'I spoke to her day before yesterday about Lady Harrington's clinic and her genome project.'

'Did you, Your Grace?' Clinkscales smiled. 'She didn't mention it to me. But she did mention that she and Lady Harrington's father have decided to remain here on Grayson for at least the next several years. She said—' the old man's smile faded a bit around the edges '—that they'd decided that the best memorial they could give the Steadholder would be to bring Harrington Steading's medical standards up to the Star Kingdom's, so they'd like to move their practices here. And, of course, she herself is deeply committed to the genome project.'

'I wasn't aware of their plans,' Benjamin said after a moment, 'but I don't really see that it changes anything, Howard. Surely you're not suggesting that we offer the Key to one of Lady Harrington's parents? They're not Grayson citizens, either, and the law is quite clear on the fact that parents can 'inherit' titles only when they revert to the parent through whom they passed in the first place, and that clearly isn't the case here. If you're about to insist that the Key pass through inheritance, then it has to go 'downstream' from the generation of its creation—which means a child, a sibling, or a cousin—and that brings us right back to Devon Harrington and our original mess!'

'Not necessarily, Your Grace.' Clinkscales sounded almost smug, and Benjamin blinked.

'I beg your pardon?'

'You've given a great deal of thought to your reforms, Benjamin, but I think you've overlooked a glaringly obvious consequence of all the changes the Alliance has produced,' Clinkscales told him. 'Not surprisingly, probably. I'd certainly overlooked it—I suppose because I grew up on a planet without prolong and I'd finally gotten it through my head that the Steadholder was in her fifties. Which, of course, means that her parents have to be somewhere around my age.'

'Prolong?' Benjamin suddenly sat up straight behind his desk, and Clinkscales nodded.

'Exactly. Her Key could pass to a sibling if she had one, but she doesn't. At the moment.'

'Sweet Tester!' Prestwick murmured in something very like awe. 'I never even considered that!'

'Nor I,' Benjamin admitted, eyes narrow as he pondered furiously.

Howard's right, he thought. That possibility never even crossed my mind, and it should have. So what if Doctor Harrington— both Doctors Harrington—are in their eighties? Physically, Honor's mother is only in her early thirties. And even if they were too old to have children 'naturally,' we've got all of the Star Kingdom's medical science to draw on! We could have a child tubed, assuming the Harringtons were willing. And if the child were born here on Grayson, then he'd have Grayson citizenship whatever his parents' nationality may have been.

'It really would tie things up rather neatly, wouldn't it?' he said finally, his voice thoughtful.

'For that matter, there's another possibility entirely,' Prestwick pointed out. Both of the others looked at him, and he shrugged. 'I'm quite certain Lady Harrington's mother has samples of the Steadholder's genetic material, which means it would almost certainly be possible to produce a child of Lady Harrington's even at this date. Or even a direct clone, for that matter!'

'I think we'd better not start getting into those orbits,' Benjamin cautioned. 'Certainly not without consulting Reverend Sullivan and the Sacristy first, at any rate!' He shuddered at the mere thought of how the more conservative of his subjects might react to the Chancellor's musings. 'Besides, a clone would probably only make matters worse. If I remember correctly—and I'm not certain I do, without looking it up—the Star Kingdom's legal code adheres to the Beowulf Life Sciences Code, just as the Solarian League's does.'

'Which means?' Clinkscales asked, clearly intrigued by the notion.

'Which means, first of all, that it's completely illegal to use a dead individual's genetic material unless that individual's will or other legal declaration specifically authorized the use. And secondly, it means that a clone is a child of its donor parent or parents, with all the legal protections of any other sentient being, but it is not the same person, and posthumous cloning cannot be used to circumvent the normal laws of inheritance.'

'You mean that if Lady Harrington had had herself cloned before her death, then her clone would legally have been her child and could have inherited her title, but that if we have her cloned now, the child couldn't inherit?' Prestwick said, and Benjamin nodded.

'That's exactly what I mean, although it's also possible—and legal—for someone to stipulate in his will that he be cloned following his death and that his posthumous clone inherit. But no one can make that decision for him, which would be essentially what we would be doing if we decided to clone Lady Harrington at this point to solve our difficulties. And if you think about it, there's some sound reasoning behind the prohibition. For example, suppose some unscrupulous relative managed to arrange the death of someone like Klaus Hauptman or Lady Harrington without getting caught. And then that same relative had his victim cloned and himself appointed as the clone child's guardian, thus controlling the Hauptman Cartel—or Harrington Steading—until the clone attained his majority and inherited? And that doesn't even consider the sticky question of when a will would properly be probated! I mean, if a second party could legally produce a posthumous duplicate of the person who wrote the will, would that duplicate's existence supersede the will? Would the clone be entitled to sue those to whom 'his' estate had already legally been distributed—in exact accordance with his 'own' legally written and witnessed directions—for recovery of assets? The ramifications could go on and on forever.'

'I see.' Prestwick rubbed the end of his nose, then nodded. 'All right, I do see that. And it probably wouldn't be a bad idea for us to quietly insert that Beowulf code into our own law, Your Grace, since we now have access to medical science which would make something like that possible. But how would that effect a child born to the Steadholder's parents after her death?'

'It wouldn't,' Clinkscales said positively. 'The precedents are clear on that point, Henry, and they go back almost to the Founding. It's unusual, of course, and I suppose that to be absolutely legal, the Key should pass to Devon Harrington until such time as Lady Harrington's parents produce a child, but then the Steading would revert to her sibling. In fact, I think there was actually an example of that from your own family history, Your Grace. Remember Thomas the Second?'

'Tester!' Benjamin smacked himself on the forehead. 'How did I forget that one?'

'Because it happened five centuries ago, I imagine,' Clinkscales told him dryly.

'And because Thomas isn't exactly someone we Mayhews like to remember,' Benjamin agreed.

'Every family has its black sheep, Your Grace,' Prestwick said.

'I suppose so,' Benjamin said. 'But not every family has someone who probably had his own brother assassinated to inherit the Protectorship!'

'That was never proven, Your Grace,' Clinkscales pointed out.

'Right. Sure!' Benjamin snorted.

'It wasn't,' Clinkscales said more firmly. 'But the point is that Thomas was actually named Protector... until his nephew was born.'