Beside Hank, Captain Slovo was studying Kris. This was the first time he’d seen her in uniform, and he eyed her fruit salad with intent. His nostrils flared, his eyes grew wide as he read her service history laid out there for anyone to see.
Except for the Navy-Marine Corps medal, all Kris had were tourist ribbons to show for her service. No Meritorious this, Distinguished that for this girl. But every one of them, even the Navy-Marine Corps ribbon, had a V for having been earned in combat. The sole exception was the Wardhaven Defense Medal.
“Commodore, I think we all want you to have your sailors back,” Kris said, reasonably.
“Then why don’t I have them?”
“Because I think the local folks will only give them back when you are headed home.”
“Greenfeld does not negotiate with terrorists.”
Good Lord, doesn’t this boy know anything but cant, Kris thought. What she said was very calming. “You are not negotiating with terrorists, Commodore, you are talking with me about a mutual problem we have. I would like to solve your problem, Commodore. Wouldn’t you?”
“All they have to do is release my sailors,” Hank demanded.
“There is the matter of significant damages done to several buildings here last night by your sailors,” Kris pointed out.
“My sailors are gentlemen. Clearly, these damages were done by agent provocateurs hostile to Greenfeld.”
For a moment, Kris eyed Hank. Isn’t there anything behind that lovely face, those piercing blue eyes, but second-rate pablum for a brain? Or did you come here for a shoot-out and have no intention of leaving until you’ve had it?
“There are witnesses that saw your sailors trashing the Beergartens, tearing down a light post, and smashing its wall.”
“They are liars. Paid liars, no doubt.”
This was going nowhere. “Commodore, if we don’t cooperate to solve this problem, things could quickly get out of control.”
Hank opened his mouth to shoot back another one-liner, but the flag captain stepped forward and placed his hand across his mouth. What he said made Hank scowl and curtly shake his head.
“Everything is going exactly the way I intended,” the young Peterwald insisted.
“Are you sure, Commodore?” Kris said “From my perspective, it doesn’t look that way. I would strongly suggest that you drop this bit of gunboat diplomacy and pull your troops back to their ships.”
“And what will you do if I don’t. Wipe them out?” Hank snorted at his joke.
Kris said nothing. Beside her, the chief caught the flag captain’s attention, then silently guided the officer’s eyes to this rifle position, that machine gun nest. Slovo coughed into his hand, and once again leaned next to his master’s ear. Hank looked first to one set of weapons, then to another. Then his eyes focused on the tower. “I don’t see anything,” he snapped.
Oh Lord, Jack and I have done such a great job of getting our shooters to cover that blind Hank can’t see them. Kris turned around. “Ernie. Gale, mind letting our visiting friends see what they face.” Kris was signing that happy couple’s death warrants. Or was if they stood up and countersigned them.
And they did! The crazy pair stood; waved with one hand, held their rifles on their hips with the other. Then they ducked back down into firing positions.
“There’s more like them you aren’t noticing,” Jack said.
For the first time, Hank looked worried. “We can handle those. If need be, we can fall back to those store fronts behind us. My Marines already control them.”
Captain Krätz double-timed up from the rear with a Gunny Sergeant beside him. “Commodore, we have a bit of a problem.”
The two captains and the commodore put their heads together for a long moment. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” Hank demanded, ending the whispered conference.
“You were at the head of the column, sir,” Krätz answered. “The Marines tried to solve the problem on their own, sir.”
“And if they bash the doors in,” Jack said. “They’ll face a hail of fire. I prepared that greeting myself.”
“And if you try to fall back on those shops,” Chief Meindl added, “you will be running into claymores. I saw them deployed when the lieutenant here took me for a walk around.”
“You go too far, Longknife. And now that you’ve tipped your hand, we’ll smash it,” Hank snapped, or tried to. A hard gulp interrupted his words.
“That’s what I showed your chief. Did I tip my hand, or just show the tip of an iceberg? You sure you’re not facing enough firepower to make this square run knee deep in blood?”
The flag captain looked around the square slowly, taking in carefully what he might have missed before. Kris saw his face harden as he changed his assumptions that he faced amateurs who had no idea how to plan a battle. He glanced at Kris, squinting at the glare off the Wounded Lion in the overhead sun. “That Earth decoration came after de-evolution, didn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Kris agreed.
Hand again over his mouth, the captain whispered something long and involved to his commodore. Hank’s grimace deepened. “I could shoot you down where you stand, Longknife.”
“And you’d be dead a second later. What do you say we both live long, nasty lives causing no end of trouble to each other?”
“Not an unreasonable idea,” the chief muttered.
“I want my men back,” Hank repeated. “I did not come down here just to get sunburned,” he said, glancing up. His blue uniform looked summer weight, but Hank had sweated it through.
“I want you to get your men back,” Kris said, as she might to a particularly difficult child. “But you have worn out your welcome. There’s no beer left on this planet for your men.”
“Nobody tells me when to leave,” Hank said petulantly.
“I’m not saying that you have to leave, but I am saying that no one wants any of your men in their restaurants, stores, or eateries. You have worn out your welcome,” Kris repeated.
Hank frowned at Captain Slovo. He nodded. “Civilians are within their rights to do that, sir. No one can force another person to do business.”
A shot rang out as if for emphasis.
Sailors, arms tired from holding their weapons at high port, were slow to react. But they did look around, hunting for the source of the shot. It was as if a great beast held its breath for a moment before it roared.
Kris stepped into that space. “Hold your fire.”
For a moment the shock of a woman’s voice ordering obedience must have caused the monster pause. Kris raised her arms, spread her hands as if she was personally holding the two sides apart.
“Don’t shoot. Hold your fire,” she commanded. “Jack, find out who fired.”
Jack was already running toward the Police Training Center where Kris thought the shot was from. His automatic was out and raised. He raced to a window where the sun now highlighted a crack running from top to bottom, a hole shining like a star. “You there, put that man under arrest. Now.”
Someone must have obeyed, because Jack quit running, scowled at the Police School in general, holstered his weapon, and turned back to his place beside Kris.
“How much longer do we keep this up, Hank? Until one of your men faints and looses rapid fire into your ranks. Me, I got a whole lot of amateurs aiming guns at you with their safeties off. For God’s sake, man, let’s take it down a few notches so we can talk without some poor dumb schmucks shooting us in the back.”
Hank, perfectly sculptured face and all, looked like some kid who had just been told he wasn’t getting a Christmas pony. For a moment, he seemed ready to refuse, then he didn’t quite stomp his foot, but snarled. “Do what you have to, Captain.”
A nod to the Command Master Chief immediately had him shouting, “Squadron.” “Ship,” echoed, followed by “Divisions.” “Order. Arms.” Nearly a thousand rifle butts struck the pavement at once. “Parade. Rest.” A thousand booted feet stomped down.
Well, at least one side followed orders. Kris turned to her side of the square. “Put those safeties back on,” she shouted, “and those rifles down. Don’t go away, but for God’s sake, let’s not have any more accidents.”
A low murmur swept the yard. Behind Kris, sailors looked around, measured the level of noise, and frowned worriedly.
“You do have a thousand rifles out there,” Captain Slovo whispered behind his hand to Kris.
“Give or take a few hundred.”
“I have more machine guns,” Hank insisted.
“Maybe,” Kris said, conceding nothing.
Captain Slovo turned to the gunny sergeant. “Please advise your commander that we are standing down. Have him withdraw his Marines back a row of businesses and hold himself in readiness.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the Marine saluted, and double-timed off.
“Now, shall we talk in private?” Kris said.
“I won’t enter any terrorist’s lair.”
“Good. How about walking halfway over to the Fire Training Center. They teach people to fight fires,” Kris added drolly.
Ron and Gassy came out the glass doors, giving Hank a good view of a machine gun aimed right at him, as Kris lead them toward the Fire Center.
“I will not be intimidated,” Hank said.
“Fine. We’re not trying to,” Kris said.
They met in the middle. “I want my men back,” Hank snarled.
“I want to know who raped our coeds,” the mayor snapped.
“My men did no such thing.”
“Good, then you won’t mind us taking swabs from every mouth.”
“I will not have my men’s privacy violated.”
The two men glared at each other.
“How about the mayor agrees to give you back your sailors and you agree to leave this planet?” Kris said.
“Kris, my police have two fully worked up rape kits. We have the DNA of the men who did this. It doesn’t match any in our files. It likely came from off planet. I want justice for my women. Don’t you?” That hit Kris in the gut. She’d never been raped. Not yet. Her idea of what to do to a rapist started with a rope and ended with him dead. Still. Here? Now?
“So, what do you want to do, Ron, go back to where we were a few minutes ago and see who has the last gunner standing?”
“That’s fine with me,” Hank snapped. “We will prevail.”
“Don’t be so sure. I’ve got grenadiers ready to barbecue your launches. And with all your men dirtside, Lieutenant Kovar would easily take your ships. Even if you win here, you’ve lost. This sally was not well planned, Captain Slovo. Very sloppy.”
“Some might say so.”
Kris turned back to Ron. “How high a price are you willing to pay to get those rapists?”
Ron turned slowly to take in every part of the square; sailors, his riflemen, the machine gunners. He gritted his teeth and turned back to Kris. “Not that high a price. No, I can’t.”
“Are you willing to give up the sailors in your jail with no further judicial proceedings?” Kris said.
“If they are not identified by their fellow sailors, yes.”
“No, I will not leave any of my men behind,” Hank shot back.
“You would defend rapists,” Ron roared, and moved in on Hank.
Hank whipped his saber out, not expertly, but well enough to almost take Ron’s nose off. Made Kris glad for once her breasts weren’t any farther out. “I will defend my sailors,” he shouted.
Someone must have given Hank the five-second lecture on loyalty up in return for loyalty down. “Ron?” Kris said.
“I never want to see a Greenfeld ship docking at High Chance again. If one comes, we will not let it hitch on. You hear me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ron. I thought we were friends,” the commodore said diffidently, sheathing his sword.
Kris pushed Ron back as he lunged for his fellow alumni. “This is settled, Mayor. Let it stay settled.”
“Go and don’t come back.”
“That will take some arranging,” Hank said, turning to Kris. “Lieutenant, I assume you will stand pledge for this agreement.”
“As Princess Kristine Longknife, I will assure that you get your sailors back, based on the promise given me by Mayor Torn,” Kris said, biting out each word.
“Very good. Captain, arrange matters with the good lieutenant. I and the chief are leaving.”
“You will have all your shuttles tied up returning these troops to your ships for now, won’t you, Captain?”
“Yes,” Slovo agreed. Kris noticed that Hank had withdrawn far enough to nod to the Command Master Chief who began marching the men off, but the commodore stayed well within earshot of whatever agreement was being made in his name.
“I would suggest you send ten launches down when you are ready to depart. I believe I can arrange for them to be launched as you are departing from the piers.”
“You allow the first launch to take off and I will have the flagship undock,” Captain Slovo said.
“With luck, we can have the last launch heading down the runway as your last ship cuts loose from the last tie-down.”
The captain looked over his shoulder; the commodore nodded. “Agreed, Your Highness,” he said, and saluted Kris. She returned the honor. Chief Meindl stepped over to stand beside Flag Captain Slovo and saluted. They turned and joined their commodore.
The sailors marched off by divisions. Kris watched until they were well on their way, then sent Jack up the tower to keep the watch. A cheer started. “Stow it,” Kris commanded. “This isn’t over until it’s over. Gassy, you might want to visit with your NCOs or whatever you have. Get that message across. This situation isn’t over until the last lander is off the ground.”
Gassy glanced at his boss. “Do it,” Ron said, and the cop trotted off as ordered.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to forget who was in charge here.”
“There was no question who commanded here, Kris. I think Gassy was just showing he remembered who signed his paychecks.”
“Every time I get into one of these things, it’s with a cat-knitted ball of yarn for a chain of command.”
Ron stood at the single step up to the Fire Center, watching the last sailors march out of the square. “I’m really going to let the rapist get off scot free,” he muttered.
“I didn’t agree to that,” Kris said.
“Didn’t we just agreed to return Hank’s sailors?”
“Yes. But we said nothing about their condition at return.”
Ron frowned. “What are you up to? You’ve just stopped a war, Longknife. I know that’s unusual for your family. Are you going to start another one now?”
“I doubt it. Are you aware of the gauntlet?”
“A strong glove, maybe fire resistant?”
“But also an ancient form of punishment. You form two rows of nice, kindly folks with clubs, then someone runs between them. I’m surprised one of your commissioners hasn’t done one.”
“Who are the nice people you’re thinking of?”
“The two girls that were raped. Their friends; boys and girls. Who do you think might be interested?”
“Half the planet,” Ron sighed.
“I’ll head topside as soon as the last launch is off. I’ll let you know when the fleet will be leaving. You figure out what you want to do about getting the sailors to the landers.”
Ron nodded and walked off. Jack stayed at Kris’s elbow. “You hoping the girls flinch. Won’t want to club the sailors?”
Kris thought about it for a moment. Things could get dicey if sailors got hurt. Was it better not to? Would she want to beat up the coworkers of someone who raped her and . . .
“I know I’d want to take a lead pipe to anyone who hurt you,” Jack said.
Kris looked sideways at Jack. Whichever way it turned out, it was nice to learn that one thing about her nanny. Very nice.
17
Kris watched the Incr
edible cut loose its last tie-down with her station, very mixed emotions riling her gut. Hank was leaving, which was cause for much rejoicing. That Hank was leaving without paying an Earth dollar for the damage his men had done, left a very sour taste in the financial markets dirtside.
That the young women who’d been assaulted chose not to retaliate on the sailors, was no comfort to Kris. Part of her wanted to be down there with a thick leather strap. But there were five hundred sailors and only two rapists. And those rapists might very well have snuck out with the initial release of sailors that first night. Whenever Kris felt the need to pound on a Greenfeld sailor, the mental image that always came to her was Chief Meindl . . . and his wife and two children.
“I’m glad this dirty business is over,” Kris muttered. This was part of the Longknife creed she’d never faced before. We do the least lousy thing when all the other options are worse. Grampa Trouble, are there any more things about being a Longknife that you haven’t mentioned?
The first launch connected with the Incredible. There were more on the way, now. Carefully spaced, Hank was rewarded with fifty more sailors every time a ship started to pull out or completed the process. The sensor suites on the Resolute, Wasp, and even the Patton were up. At the first sign of hostility from the ships, Kris would be on the horn to Hank. If she didn’t get immediate satisfaction, the station’s 6-inch lasers would do their best to fillet and fry those ships. At this range, a 6-inch laser could do horrible things. Of course, return fire wouldn’t leave much of the station in one piece.
Matters could still go south in a hurry.
Kris stood the watch, hand never far from the mike. Jack sat at the weapons station, his thumb next to the Weapons Release button. Today, full crews manned the lasers; they were fully charged and tracking. Kris expected a complaint from Captain Slovo, but the commlinks between ships and stations stayed at only those low levels necessary for getting underway details.
The last ship, Max Göckle’s Eager, trundled down the pier, unlocked its bowline, and angled for the last launch. “Now we’re most vulnerable,” Kris whispered. “He’s got all his crew back. We hold no cards.”
Kris Longknife: Resolute Page 32
