Kris spent a long night thinking before she called the captain. “I need to talk to all hands.”
“I figured so. I’ll have them report for chow. It’ll be a tight fit. I’ll leave two on the bridge, and pipe you in.”
Fifteen minutes later, Kris stood before Captain Drago, Sulwan, and most of the crew, as well as her own three . . . could she call them friends? If there was enough money involved, Kris doubted she could count much on Chief Beni. Abby was, as usual, a question mark. Jack, hmm. She’d always trusted him with her life. But Grampa Al insisted everyone had a price.
“We have a problem,” Kris started. From the sour looks that came right back at her, it was clear they agreed.
“You and I,” Kris said carefully, “have found a treasure of immense value.” Every head nodded. “But one thing is missing.”
That drew snorts. “The key,” Sulwan provided.
“Right,” Kris said. “We’ve come, we’ve seen, but we dared not touch. Can’t risk trying to open it. That’s going to take a lot of careful effort. I think most of you know that my Aunt Alnaba has spent most of her life on Santa Maria trying to crack just that part of the Three’s puzzle. Eighty years of hacking at it, and most of Santa Maria is still a locked box.”
That brought on a lot of nods.
“You want to get to the bottom line?” Captain Drago said.
“Anyone here not want to have their next ship made out of that material on Alien 1 that took the best our lasers had and was just as cool to the touch as when it started?”
“A ship with that wouldn’t have to pay insurance against pirates,” the captain observed.
“That will make someone a lot of money,” Doc said softly.
“No doubt,” Kris said. “But it’ll take a lot of work and investment money. Anyone here have that kind of pocket change?”
There was a long silence finally broken by Abby’s drawl. “You do, don’t you, Kris?”
The eyes looking back at Kris were expectant, intrigued, and a few looked downright predatory. With a sigh, Kris chose to lay all her cards face up on the table. “As Princess Kris, I have access to everything King Ray can throw at this problem. I expect Aunt Alnaba will be heading here on the first ship she can hire. That ship could be the Resolute. You want in on a long-term contract?” That got interest.
“As Prime Minister Billy Longknife’s bratty daughter, I think a few words from me will get all the support this effort needs from the not inconsequential resources of Wardhaven.”
That got snorts from many, laughs from a few.
“And as a major shareholder in Nuu Enterprises, Inc. I think I can assure you that all the necessary funds will be available. My Grampa Al has his hooks in most universities’ research centers out here on the Rim. Anyone who is curious and has the technical know-how will be available when we need them.”
“So there’s a lot in it for you,” said Doc. “What’s in it for us?”
“I imagine there’s a lot of media outlets that will pay for your exclusive interview. At least for the first few of you to go public.” That got nods. “I imagine there’d be talk-show contracts. Am I missing anything?” The crew exchanged glances. No one came up with other possible income for themselves.
“What could we get from the media?” Doc asked.
“I don’t know,” Kris said. “When they shove a mike in front of me, I always have to talk for free.” Kris’s doleful sigh actually got a chuckle from a few.
“About a million bucks,” Abby said. “Those are Earth bucks, say a hundred thousand Wardhaven dollars,” she added. “For the first few exclusive interviews. After those lucky ducks do their talking, the value goes down for the slow bloomers. The talk-show rounds could probably double that, but you’d have to hire you a manager, and they’d take about a third of everything.”
Suddenly, maid Abby knew a whole lot about the price of information. Kris swore it was time to have that often-delayed talk with Abby on her work history.
“How come you know all this?” Someone in the back asked what Kris could not. Not right now in public.
Abby shrugged. “When my third employer got herself killed, her chief of security signed himself up for the full deal. Me,” the maid shrugged. “I was young and slow. All I got was five thousand to talk about cleaning up the bloody mess.”
“So you’re saying,” Doc said slowly, “that a few of us might make as much as one hundred and forty thousand dollars Wardhaven. And the rest of us would be sucking hind tit.” There were mutters around the room at that. “Okay, Princess, what’s your offer?”
This was going fast; maybe Abby’s lead hadn’t been a bad one. “I’ll double that for each and every one of you.” There were whistles at that. “I’ll give you the money in either of two ways. If you want cash, now, I’ll give you fourteen thousand dollars this minute. You’ll get another twenty-eight thousand dollars when we dock at High Wardhaven. The rest one year from today, assuming no one talks to the press.”
Several small groups among the crew took that under consideration. Kris didn’t hear any complaints.
“You said there’d be two options,” Sulwan said.
“The other is I give you preferred shares in Nuu Enterprises. Disbursement the same way. Value as of today.”
“And if you Longknifes make a killing?” Captain Drago said.
“You’re right in there killing with us,” Kris finished.
“I’ll take stock,” Doc said. The “me too’s” were unanimous.
“Do I get in on this?” Chief Beni asked.
“I said everyone on board,” Kris repeated, an eye on Abby.
The maid smiled primly.
Kris turned back to the crew. “The money is for silence. If this turns into a mad rush, irreplaceable information may be lost and people killed.”
“Never thought I’d hear a Longknife worried about that,” someone in back said.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Kris said. “I also don’t want Alien 1 and 2 taken apart with hacksaws. We get one chance to peel this union. We do it like a bunch of wild, ignorant gold-rush nuts, and we could lose big chunks of this technology. We do it carefully, like grown-ups, and all of us may be set for life. A life like we never dreamed of.”
“I think we can all see the mutual benefits of doing this the calm way rather than the hurry up and mess up way,” Captain Drago said, turning to his crew. “Any of you have an uncontrolled urge to gab to the first newsie you meet?”
Head shakes answered him.
“Miss Longknife, you have just hired a crew. If you’ll have your computer print out a confidentiality and nondisclosure statement, you’ve got a bunch of friendly folks ready to sign.”
“Nelly and I will work out the fine print and be back with you before we dock at High Chance.”
“You want us to put on more g’s?”
“No, thank you. One and a half is all I care for. I think I’m getting too old for this charging around the universe, changing everything.” That drew a laugh.
“Jack, if you and Abby will accompany me to my stateroom.”
A moment later, Jack carefully closed . . . and locked . . . Kris’s door. That left Kris free to turn on Abby with full fury.
“How do you happen to know so much about what the media is paying for hot dope on people?”
Abby looked at Kris like she had just crawled out from under a rock . . . on some airless moon. “Doesn’t everyone know what the newsies pay. My word, Princess, back on Earth a kindergartner knows one juicy story can make you set for life.”
Behind Abby, Jack’s face went from someone who was about to bite into a juicy apple, to a guy who’d bitten and found a worm.
“Everyone knows?” Kris went on. “I never heard it.”
“Kid,” Abby went on, “don’t you watch anything but what the media is doing to dis your old man. Okay, you are the folks we folks want to get the story on, so maybe it ain’t all that big. Just as well. I hiked
up the price. How was I to know that you’d double it. I figured you’d haggle us down. How you gonna stay so rich if you do things like that?”
“I was more worried about staying alive,” Kris said. “Jack, you ever heard what the going rate was for juicy news stories?”
“Come to think of it, I think Abby’s spurred my memory.” He didn’t look like he’d much enjoyed the spurring.
Kris settled down at her desk. “Okay, we’ll forget that for the time being. I need to come up with some contracts. You two want to hang around. You might have some comments on what Nelly and I propose,” Kris said eyeing Abby. “Seeing how you folks are the ones that know how the folks that want the money live.”
“Always glad to be of service,” Abby said, settling into the only spare chair in the room like the hawk that laid the golden egg.
And she’d again dodged the question. Oh, Kris’s maid had answered the question asked: How she knew what she did know. But the question Kris really wanted answered had been shuffled to the bottom of the deck. Just who are you?
Once more, Kris was no closer to getting to the bottom of who Abby was than she’d been before. Once again, that answer had eluded her. And she had other things biting at her ankles and would have to tend to them and ignore the question . . . again.
“I can’t hire people for Nuu Inc.,” Kris said before Nelly had a chance to remind her. “So, Nelly, let’s set up our own corporation, to be funded with some of my stocks from Nuu. I want 51 percent of the voting stock, the others to be distributed evenly among those here.” Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, Jack, you’re included. You earned it.”
“He earned it,” Abby said. “He’s just worried about a conflict of interests.”
“Anyone gets close to Kris, the interests start getting conflicted,” Jack sighed.
So Nelly drew up the papers of incorporation for BDQ, Inc., which Kris defined as Burrow, Dig, and Question. Abby suggested Better Do it Quick. Jack shook his head. “Better Done Quietly.”
What BDQ actually meant was not defined in the documents.
All the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed before they docked at High Chance. And, unlike Kris’s last leave, she was actually back a day early. Given enough time, Kris was sure she could become the very model of a modern Naval Officer.
Kris was almost prancing up the Resolute’s gangway, when Penny charged out of the elevator.
“You’ll never guess what we’ve found,” Kris beamed.
“You’ll never guess the trouble that just came through Jump Point Alpha,” Penny interrupted, her face business deadly.
Kris stopped, shook her head, and tried to change gears from her planned “I’ve got a wonderful secret” bit of girl talk with her best friend, to whatever was coming at her. “Trouble?”
“Yeah, six Greenfeld light cruisers.”
“Six!” Kris said, mind going down the Naval assets she had just now. It was a short list. Nil. Nothing. Nada.
“The good news is they aren’t demanding our surrender.”
That was good news. “And the bad?” Kris asked, hoping Penny was just using a figure of speech. Six cruisers were bad enough.
“Oh, that depends on if you mind that their commanding officer is an old buddy of yours?”
Kris blinked. “I don’t know any Greenfeld Naval officers.”
“You do now. Henry Smythe-Peterwald the thirteenth is a commodore in the Greenfeld Navy.” Penny was wearing khakis, but she held up her arm as if pointing to the rank insignia strip on a blues uniform. “No thin ensign stripe for our Hank. Nope, one thick-and-wide commodore stripe for Harry’s little boy. Oh, and his flagship, it’s the Incredible.”
Kris said a very bad word a princess shouldn’t use. But she’d heard it enough from Navy types, and this was Navy business.
“Oh,” Penny said, falling in step with Kris as she quick timed for the elevator to the main station level. “You said something about what you found. I was curious when you disappeared into that anomaly. Was it a real jump point?”
“Yeah, though that’s a secret,” Kris said, going up the escalator with Jack on her heels. “But what we found will have to wait.”
9
Kris headed for the shuttle bay. “When did you spot Hank?”
“I was on the Patton’s bridge when one of the kids noticed a ship come through the jump. We stood around gawking. Most of them had never seen a ship’s sensor suite up and working. When the number hit six and held, I figured you’d want to know.”
Which explained why Sulwan hadn’t told Kris. In just two minutes they’d gone from the greatest secret in human history to Oh my God, look who’s coming for dinner.
Dinner or conquest? Was there a difference when the Peterwalds were involved? Kris almost missed a step. A month ago, the loss of Chance to the Peterwalds would be embarrassing for King Ray’s alliance, but you win a few, you lose a few.
Lose Chance now and . . . Kris cut off that thought. It was her command and loss was not an option.
And exactly how do you intend to avoid that, your Princess-hood, Commandership, Longknifeness? She asked herself.
Kris sighed; she didn’t even have twelve mosquito boats to defend Chance. Just the two officers walking with her. And a chief. And Abby. And the contents of twelve steamer trunks. Did that include the Resolute? Hmm. “Nelly, tell Beni to guard all channels. If the cruisers talk, I want to know immediately.”
“He heard about the ship situation from the Comm Boss on Resolute and already has set up the watch. He assumes you will not want your name used on net.”
“Good,” Kris said as they reached the shuttle.
“Where are you going?” Penny asked.
“I need some face time dirtside. I’ll need both of you. You are my entire command, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Kris grounded at Last Chance thirty minutes later. The boys were out with the tug beside a yellow cab with Steve and Mamma Torn. Kris and crew piled into the backseat, leaving the ground crew to find a place to park the shuttle on a ramp already growing crowded. The cab laid rubber gunning off the runway.
“I take it you’ve noticed your system is kind of full of warships,” Kris said.
“It did not escape our attention,” Marta said. Steve just scowled. “My son wants to talk to you. Steve suggested you do the talking face to face.”
“The lieutenant knows security,” Kris said.
Steve snorted at Kris’s use of his old Navy rank. He might be a long-haired chicken farmer and taxi driver but he’d spent twenty years in blues. Even as he flew the cab low toward town, it looked like his mind was back in uniform. Good.
They pulled to a halt before a sports arena with a crowded parking lot. Ron hurried from it as Kris got out.
“We don’t have much time,” Ron said. “We’re getting close to a quorum in there. I don’t know everything we’ll do but I have a pretty good idea what we’ll deliver for you and Steve. I want you to start on it now, not later. Kris, what’s your biggest problem?”
“Mayor Torn,” Kris began formally. “I’d prefer not to have the Marines and armed Naval detachments on six Greenfeld cruisers just a quick rush from seizing control of High Chance. But by right and custom, those six cruisers have a claim on High Chance for docking privileges. Absent a pressing need, like all our docks being full, we should offer them the opportunity to dock. We can charge them for it, but money won’t defend us.”
Ron turned to Steve. “She’s talking about what you told us.” The retired officer nodded. “I’ll move to incorporate the Chance Security, Entertainment and Tourist Society just like you said.
“Entertainment and Tourist Society?” Kris said.
“What does any sailor on leave want?” Steve answered. “A drink and some fun. Our local pubs will provide the drink. Entertainment may take some work. So, this society will provide for both our common defense . . . and the sailors’ liberty and pursuit of happiness. Not bad, huh?”
Ron rubbed his eyes with both hands. “The only thing worse than a Longknife bearing bad news is one with good news.”
“I’d like to keep this discovery a secret until we can go at it logically, rationally.”
“Thank you for showing some common sense,” Ron drawled and turned to Steve. “Go with her. Set our defenses up as best you can. I’m still not willing to call out the militia. Can you do it with the Society?”
“So long as Peterwald doesn’t know anything, nothing’s changed,” Steve said.
“Let’s keep it that way.” Ron turned to go his way. Steve and Kris turned to go theirs.
Kris flew the shuttle back up with Steve Kovar beside her. Chief Beni was waiting for them when they docked. “Nothing from the ships. They’re still quiet as a tomb.” Then he spotted Steve and snapped him a salute.
“You don’t salute us old farts,” Steve said with a laugh.
“I do when there are six warships headed my way.”
“Good idea,” Kris said. “But not formal policy.”
Steve introduced the woman at his side. “Chief Ramirez was my personnel honcho. I stretched her into just about everything that didn’t involve the actual hands-on killing of something.”
She offered her fellow chief a hand to shake. “Took all the fun out of a Navy career, dang it.”
“Don’t know about you, but I’m kind of glad to have a specialty that don’t involve getting killed,” said one of the few survivors of the gallant Halsey.
Kris frowned. “I’ve heard it said that you had a few volunteers working around the station. Wouldn’t let them join the reserve. Are these the folks you’re sending up?”
“Nope,” Steve said. “No militia. They did their time. Besides, if I’m not careful, those enthusiasts might start saluting you. Obeying your orders. No, these are just simple workers, used to giving the foreman back talk when he deserves it. Maybe filing a grievance or two if things get too rough.”
Kris Longknife: Resolute Page 15
