Kris Longknife Stalwart

by Mike Shepherd

  When Kris ambled in with Roth on her elbow, a song was just finishing. Nods passed from front to back and the choir director seemed to shuffle his music, then pointed at an able sailor.

  He stepped forward and in a clear, ringing voice began to sing of victories won among the stars by the Combined Fleet. The stanzas were new, but the refrain was a catchy ditty. It quickly caught on with the audience. The soloist would sing his story, and everyone would come in on the refrain. Even Roth joined it.

  "That's a song they'll be singing in the bazaars tomorrow," he told Kris, nudging her in the side.

  That was what Kris hoped.

  A different soloist introduced a second new song. This one recounted the recently attempted putsch by the Domm and Wo Clans. It also had a snappy refrain that the audience quickly joined in.

  "Do I smell some fish stranded at high tide?" Roth asked Kris.

  "If it's fresh, why not eat it?" Kris answered.

  Roth guffawed.

  Before he could finish, Nelly reported, "Kris, we have an unexpected guest arriving."

  "Who?" Kris asked.

  "The Worshipful Emperor."

  8

  "He can't come here!" yelped Roth, denying that the young Emperor had slipped his strings and was doing something a good puppet would never do.

  "Apparently, he is," Kris muttered as she turned her full attention to this new challenge.

  From below came the sound of Ruffles and Flourishes from the Royal US Marine Corps band. The bandmaster then hoofed it brilliantly by breaking into a song Kris had last heard for the entrance of her grampa, King Ray I of United Society, Here Comes the Chief.

  The bandmaster and the entire band deserved a bonus for being this fast on their feet, though Kris pitied the poor tuba player.

  "Jack, I need Marines in dress uniforms in the ballrooms, STAT. The Emperor has come to call. I want security jacked up a dozen notches."

  "It was already plenty high, but I'll make it tighter. I've got a platoon of Marines moving in your direction. Do we surround the Emperor?"

  "No. He has his Imperial Guard for that. I want your guys guarding doors and any place else you can put them to look decorative but at the ready for anything."

  "I'm on it."

  With the greeting music in the background, Kris and Roth hurried back to the foyer. Several other major clan lords were also rushing in that direction. They hardly had time to arrange themselves in some sort of order before the largest elevator opened.

  There stood the young Emperor. His robes were cloth of gold embedded with jewels, but it seemed to have only two or three layers. No heavier a burden of fancy dress than Roth, clan chief of the senior We Clan, wore. Beside the Emperor stood Guard General Konga. Around them were a small phalanx of guardsmen in dress uniforms . . . weapons at the ready.

  Thank heavens he'd left the headsmen and the snake wranglers at home, Kris thought as her stomach was grateful it would not have to face that bunch tonight. Those symbols of Imperial authority gave her the willies.

  Kris smiled at the young Emperor as he strolled from the elevator. The Imperial Guards opened their front to allow him to pass toward the clan lords and greet Kris.

  She bowed from the waist, forty-five degrees exactly, as the Emperor said, "I am so glad that you are throwing such a lovely party. I could hear the music from the palace. General Konga assured me that you would have room for me if I chose to come calling."

  "The Emperor is always welcome at the Embassy of the Human Race, Your Imperial Majesty," Kris said as she rose from her bow.

  Around her, confusion reigned among the clan lords. Some were ready to go down on elbows and knees, as they would at court. Others seemed ready to follow Kris's lead, although their bows went down a full ninety degrees. Still others seemed in too much shock to make any call.

  A Marine Staff Sergeant with a tray of drinks wound his way through the Iteeche lords and lordlings to stand at Kris's elbow.

  "May I offer you a drink?" Kris asked.

  "I would very much like one," the Emperor answered.

  While they talked, General Konga nodded at an NCO who produced a cool bottle from somewhere, and in less time than it took to bat an eye, the bottle stood among the drinks being offered by the Human sergeant.

  The Emperor took it.

  "Oh, you have my favorite soft drink," he said. "I'm so glad you have some."

  There was no way the young Iteeche hadn't seen the sleight of hand that got him what he wanted, but Kris had to respect his grace and wisdom at praising his hostess.

  "Your Imperial Majesty, we have several choirs to sing along with tonight. In the first salon I am told are some of the best choirs singing songs that were ancient when the Empire was new." Kris said that with a smile and got something like it from the young Emperor.

  "We have in the opposite salon, choirs from the Navy, including one from the Combined Fleets. They are singing some very new songs celebrating the victories of the fleet both in space and the recent trouble in the capital."

  "Oh, that sounds very interesting. I would very much like to hear those new songs."

  Kris aimed the Emperor and his party to the right. Ahead of her, smooth as silk, Human Marines in dress red and blues slipped into place, guarding the entrance to the salon. No doubt, others were striding in a back way. If the door wasn't there a moment ago, it certainly was now.

  The Iteeche choir master for the Combined Fleet's choir didn't fail to notice the commotion in the back of the ballroom. He turned, and may or may not have recognized the Emperor, but did know Kris.

  WHAT SHOULD I TELL HIM TO DO?, General Bruce asked on Nelly Net.

  THE EMPEROR WANTS TO HEAR THE NEW SONGS, Kris answered.

  GOT IT.

  The Human Marine general stepped up to the choir master. A moment later, the Iteeche directed the first soloist to take his place and they began again the victory song for the battles among the stars.

  This might have been a repeat for those in the room, but it was fresh for the Emperor. How many of those in the room knew they were seeing their Emperor for the first time was hard to tell. Neither the Emperor, nor his portrait, was ubiquitous among his people.

  Still, everyone seemed to know that something different and unique was happening. The presence of so many Imperial Guardsmen had to mean something. The ranks and file of Iteeche opened up and Kris led the young Iteeche forward until he stood right before the choir. Kris couldn't call it the best seat in the house, because no one was sitting.

  The choir went through all four of the new songs, including one about Kris getting buried under a falling apartment, how she broke all her fingernails digging her way out and then brought down a few apartments of her own by huffing and puffing and blowing them down (there was no mention of high explosive). It ended with her bringing starships down out of the sky to land on her embassy and using the metal to strengthen the apartments of humble sailors, Marines, and Guardsmen.

  "Are you really going to do that?" the Emperor asked.

  "Day after tomorrow, very likely."

  He frowned. "I seem to remember hearing whispers that you did that before."

  "Twice," Kris said. "Then we also landed six battlecruisers to defend the gates to your palace. We're getting quite good at this, I hope."

  "I certainly hope, also. You piloted the first two and will do the same for this one?"

  "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. I and my computer.”

  There was a "harrumph" from Kris's neck.

  "Well, actually my computer will do most of the flying. My main duty is to be there and make fewer people panic."

  "I do not think that I will panic when you do this again."

  The Emperor enjoyed his time. He'd had another bottle of his favorite drink. He'd also enjoyed several of the hors d'oeuvres, always taken from a tray that was half-eaten.

  Kris had set a rule before the party started. Servers kept their eyes on the trays. If they had any reason to think that their drin
ks or tidbits had been compromised, the food went back to the larder. The was a lab checking on each questionable tray. So far, Nelly reported no poisons had been found.

  The night was going well when Kris noticed something strange out of her peripheral vision. She could not have rationally said what it was, but she reacted nonetheless. One step forward put her between that itch and the Emperor.

  She felt the small dart take her on the shoulder. Four centimeters higher and it would have hit her neck above her body armor.

  "Assassin!" Kris shouted in her command voice. "That man is an assassin! Grab him! Purple cloak over black tunic!"

  The assassin had stepped right up to the Imperial Guard to get off his blow dart. Now he was doing his best to merge back into the crowd. Too many of the Iteeche around him were reacting too slowly.

  Kris might have given chase, but she had a dart in her uniform, likely poisonous, and could not risk it ending up in anyone else.

  She need not have worried. Four Royal US Marines converged on the Iteeche's escape route. He tried to dodge; Kris hadn't seen such good broken field running since the last Army-Navy game she'd watched.

  The assassin faked out the first Marine, but dodged right into the next Human in red and blue. He knocked the Marine down, but the Human latched onto one of his four legs and held him long enough for two more to connect. The Iteeche went down under a pile of Marines.

  Kris dearly hoped the fellow was out of ammunition.

  Now four Imperial Guardsmen had a chance to catch up. Two pummeled the assassin. At least Kris hoped those punches were going into an Iteeche and not her Marines. Quickly, the Marines jumped to their feet and withdrew, letting the Guardsmen haul the offender up from the deck.

  Manacles extruded themselves from the Smart Metal™ deck to wrap themselves around his feet, hobbling him to a shuffle. More snaked out from the floor to tie his right and left arms together, then back until they were painfully restrained behind him.

  That was one assassin who was not getting away.

  He was also not going to suicide. A third lump of Smart Metal™ had crawled into his mouth and forced it wide open. No way could he follow the honorable assassin’s path of crunching down on a fake tooth containing poison and taking his story to the grave.

  At the moment, he looked like an advertisement for some sort of BDSM club. No doubt his Iteeche interrogators would be happy to supply the sadism for him.

  Meanwhile, Abby and the Human Fleet's Chief Surgeon appeared at Kris's elbow.

  "What you got there, baby duck?" Abby asked.

  "A blow dart, or the likes of one," Kris admitted.

  The doctor studied the problem. The dart hung on Kris's white dinner jacket. The question was, how far had the dart had gotten into her spidersilk armor? Clearly, it had not pierced through the tight weave. If it had, Kris would likely be dead. Humans had found out during the Iteeche the war, much to their sorrow, that most poisons that killed Iteeche, also killed Humans, and vice versa.

  The fleet surgeon frowned at the dart. "I could take it out now. However, the slightest twitch might drive it just that tiny bit deeper. Alternately, I can rush you to the Embassy clinic and stabilize both you and the dart before drawing it out."

  "That sounds like a good idea," Kris said.

  "That assumes that you walking from here to there doesn't joggle the damn thing and poison you," the doc added.

  Now it was Kris's turn to scowl.

  "May I offer a suggestion?" came from Kris's neck.

  "Go ahead, Nelly."

  "Abby, could you pick up a small device next to the toe of your right shoe?"

  Abby glanced down, then stooped to pick up a small, circular device. It looked like a thick ring.

  "Doctor, if you will hold the ring around the dart," Nelly said.

  The surgeon took the device from Abby, and, looking it over said, "I take it that I am talking to that magnificent computer of yours, Admiral?"

  "Yes, that is Nelly," Kris answered.

  "And she spun this contrivance out of the Smart Metal of the deck?"

  "It was easy," Nelly said.

  "Is it sterile?"

  "Very likely, but for this use, Doctor, it doesn't need to be. Just center it over the dart and slip it down to her shoulder. As the iris closes, keep the ring as close to center over the dart as you can. The ring will then remove the dart."

  "How?"

  "I will slowly extend the ring, extracting the dart."

  "None of which I will be able to observe," the doc grumbled.

  The device in his hand turned transparent.

  His body shook in surprise.

  "Be careful doing things like that, Nelly," Kris said. "It's hard on older hearts."

  "Umm," the surgeon said, but he was centering the ring over the dart. Nelly slowly closed an iris from the inside the ring. The doctor adjusted its centering.

  "It's centered," he said

  "And the iris is closed," Nelly said.

  At that point, the ring grew longer, raising the needle slowly from Kris's uniform dinner jacket.

  "Done," the surgeon announced.

  "Very good," Kris said, finally glancing over her shoulder at the place where the poisoned dart had been.

  She was now in a dilemma. Did she continue to host her party? No doubt there was some residual poison on her jacket, likely in the spider silk shirt beneath it. Possibly on the outside of the spidersilk armor.

  Inside, Kris could feel herself trembling like a rung bell. Still, she swallowed hard, plastered a smile on her face and said, "Shall we listen to the rest of this song, Your Imperial Majesty? I understand there is another new song you have yet to hear."

  "Are you well?" the Emperor asked.

  "It's been a while since someone attempted to assassinate me, but I'm not out of practice at dodging them," she said lightly.

  It took the lad a few seconds to process that Kris was accepting, indeed was claiming, this assassin for her own. Maybe it was best that way. People should not be trying to assassinate the Emperor.

  "Yes. Yes, I would enjoy hearing the rest of this song."

  Thus, the cheerful party began again. The young Emperor enjoyed singing along with the refrains and eyed Kris with wide eyes as he heard the ballads of her space battles, planetary seizures, and recent defense of his own body.

  Once the Combined Fleet's choir had finished its new repertoire, the choir of the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Navy took the stage. They offered rollicking songs and ditties that were likely old when ancient Iteeche sailors traded sail for steam. They were new to the Emperor, but he quickly caught on.

  Kris had the advantage that Nelly had heard them during practice and could feed Kris the words, though it was Nelly singing at Kris's neck that the Iteeche heard.

  The night held no more surprises. It couldn't. Not only did the Imperial Guard close in tight around their Emperor, but a hard-faced bunch of Humans, clearly MPs and Special Forces in mufti, provided a second outer ring just as tight. Beyond that, there was a wide empty space with no one save the occasional server with a platter of drinks or snacks.

  The Iteeche clan lords and lordlings were keeping their distance. It was hard to tell if this was to avoid the next near miss of a dart or to sidestep any hint that they might be considering something so unthinkable toward the Emperor. Whatever the reason, stay back they did. Even Roth kept his distance.

  That left Kris with a very curious young lad who found the stories praised in ballad and song to be very exciting. He had question after question to ask Kris and she gave him honest answers.

  Hopefully not too honest for his young ears.

  Their conversation went long until Nelly took an opportunity to interrupt.

  "Kris, we had thought the party would have begun to break up half an hour ago, but no one has left."

  "No one?"

  "Nope, not a single person."

  "Why would everyone stay so long?" the Emperor asked.

  "I
think, Your Imperial Majesty, that they are unwilling to leave before you do. No doubt they wish to give you open space to get safely back to your palace without being caught in the press of everyone leaving."

  "Oh," the lad looked crestfallen. "I had not thought of that."

  "May I escort you to your palanquin, sir?"

  "I guess you must," he said, turning toward the elevator.

  "Nelly, get his ride ready."

  "Doing it. They will be ready for him. We may have a major traffic jam when it comes to the rest leaving."

  "Invite them to leave by order of seniority but hold the elevators until after His Imperial Majesty is away.

  The Imperial Palanquin looked rich and ancient, clearly not Smart Metal™. At the steps, the young Emperor turned back to Kris. "I hope you have more parties like this one."

  "I intend to, though I and my fleet may need to sail soon enough for action."

  "Please do be careful."

  "I always am," Kris said.

  The Emperor suddenly looked burdened by the weight of an Empire of three thousand or more planets. He turned and went up the stairs. Several Guard officers followed him.

  General Konga held back. "You did well. I think this is the most fun this poor lad has had since his Chooser died. Maybe since he was Chosen."

  "I am glad to have been of service."

  "By the way, I would not mind if some men in civvies, much like those who surrounded His Worshipfulness tonight, came with you to the beach party tomorrow."

  "Thank you. I will have them there."

  "Good. Now I bid you good night."

  The Imperial Palanquin had hardly cleared the gates of the embassy before fancy rides were rolling out for the chiefs of the three most powerful clans. Kris bid them all a good evening.

  They assured her they had greatly enjoyed the party as they quickly left. More rides, these smaller, hurried out right behind them from the right wing of the Embassy. They had hardly been set down before their lords were piling aboard and ordering them home. Few bothered to say good night to their hostess.

  Kris didn't have all that much need to say goodbye to them. She had poison from a dart in the right shoulder of her uniform and she wanted to get out of it before something evil happened.