A moment later, an image of Ron floated above the table. It looked like he was in a library. Next to him were the two Iteeche called Fred and Shorty that the Quo and Abba Clan had sent to Ron so they could study the strange ways of Humans. No doubt, Kris was about to give them an entirely new lesson to examine.
"How may I help you, Most Excellent Admiral?" Ron asked. Interesting, he didn't call her Princess, or Emissary. Someone was expecting a call from the admiral side of Kris's mission.
"Greetings, wise Imperial Advisor." Kris could go formal, too. "I find that I need again to visit with your most Eminent Chooser. How are the flowers of his garden?"
"Most lovely in their color. Magnificent as they scent the breeze."
"Very good, then he will enjoy sharing them with me."
"He would be most honored. Would you like to visit him in one of your fortnights?"
"I would prefer this afternoon. Say, the first hour of the afternoon," Kris said, removing the velvet glove and showing the steel underneath.
"But he often dozes in his garden after his noonday meal."
"Would the second hour be better?" Kris asked, most solicitously.
"Are you available that hour a week from now?" Ron countered.
"Ron, can't we cut out the bullshit? You know as well as I do that we have lost a planet. I need battlecruisers, and I need them now, not next week. I wish to talk to your clan lord about seconding several dozen flotillas to the Combined Fleets. Freddy, Shorty, I will need to talk to your clan chiefs later this evening about the same matter."
"Admiral," Ron began, "you know that the forces defending the Capital Planet are still recovering from the terrible losses in the recent attack on the Capital. You ask for far too many ships."
"Yes, I do. However, ships that sail with me win victories. Captains and Admirals gain prize money. Executive officers quickly get their own commands among the captured ships. Division heads get promoted. Have you ever considered how many ships you would have left in orbit if I merely gave permission for anyone to join my battle fleet?"
"No Admiral Commanding the Combined Fleets has ever done that," Freddy said, cutting in.
"No, but a Human has never commanded the Combined Fleets," Kris countered. "Nor has an admiral run up my string of victories. Now, can you arrange an invitation for me at the second hour after noon today or do I go recruiting around the stations?"
The three Iteeche turned to look at each other. Their beaks were wide open, and likely out of joint, since Iteeche used their beaks as both mouths and noses.
"We will arrange the visit for you," Ron said, sounding very much exasperated.
"Very well. In addition to ships, I will need enough junior clan lordlings to rule two or three planets. Can you ask your clan lords to begin arranging for them?"
That was greeted with much more enthusiasm from the three junior clan lordlings.
Kris let them enjoy that thought, before going on. "I will see you soon. Freddy, Shorty, you may message my computer with the time your clan lords can extend me an invitation. Please assure that they are today and do not conflict."
"They will not conflict," Freddy spat.
The connection to them was then cut at the other end.
"You play a risky game," Admiral Tong said.
"If I don't get more ships, I'll have to play an even riskier game. Now, Nelly, I keep hearing that some of our admirals are seizing rebel planets. Have any of them captured a planet that we have designated with one or two rings?"
"No Kris. We have taken an even dozen subsistence planets. The rebel commanders have also joined the fray. So far, they have taken five of the loyalist's minor planets.
"Have the rebels counter-attacked to retake any of the planets they have lost?"
"No, Kris. Seventeen planets have changed hands. No one has tried to retake a planet."
"So, Admiral Tong, why has the honor of neither the rebels or the loyalist admirals or clans compelled them to retake the planets they lost?"
"I expected you to ask me that, Most Excellent Admiral. While some of the task forces were small forces from the Combined Fleets, most were from minor clans or septs. The planets lost were not theirs, so they lost no honor. Those whose honor was besmirched have not responded. Maybe they are gathering forces. Maybe they lack the forces to attempt a counter-attack. It is hard to tell."
"Hmm," Kris said. "Is this the Iteeche way, or have my victories inspired my junior commanders to get into the fray? Admiral Tong, you are the historian among us."
"I think this is more of your influence," he replied. "As I said, we usually build up our forces and attack the most recently seized planet, or the most recent planet that has raised the banner of rebellion."
"I imagine that makes it easy for everyone to mass their fleets for a battle, or steer clear of the invasion fleet and keep their honor intact."
"Yes."
"Are you thinking something, Admiral?" Jack asked. He was clearly all business.
"Yes. Back in the Age of Sail on old Earth, when you couldn't see farther than the man in your foretops, and message traffic was no faster than a frigate or sloop could sail, finding the fleet you wanted to fight was a bit difficult. Nelly, what was that battle?"
"The British Admiral Nelson wanted to fight the French and Spanish fleets even though they outnumbered him. The French admiral sailed his entire fleet across the ocean, some twenty-five hundred miles, and then sailed them back again the selfsame twenty-five hundred miles. The Royal Navy chased the hostile fleet across the ocean, then back again without the two fleets catching sight of each other. The only reason Nelson caught them was that the French and Spanish fleet were too big for most ports. He guessed right, and found them holed up in Cadiz, Spain. When the French tried to slip away to a different harbor, Nelson managed to catch them and fight a decisive battle. The Royal Navy had only twenty-seven ships of the line. The Franco-Spanish fleet of thirty-three lost twenty-two ships. The Royal Navy lost none."
"So," Jack said, added things up, "they had to chase them all over the place, but when they finally caught them, one side lost two-thirds and the other lost nothing."
Admirals Tong and Ulan exchanged glances. "A victory much like you have been fighting, Admiral, although they were only outnumbered less than three-to-four."
"Do you think we could fight outnumbered three-to-four and not lose any ships?" Kris asked.
"Definitely."
"Okay, enough ancient history," Kris said. "Admirals Tong and Katano, prepare the fleet to sail. Admiral Ulan, find out where we can scrounge up enough troop ships to lift a million soldiers. Also, order food and expendables for three dozen more flotillas. I may not get all that I want, but then again, I may."
Kris paused, then frowned a moment. "Admiral Tong. I'm going to the biggest clans. What about the smaller clans? Do they have flotillas?"
"Yes. If you can get the large clans seconding your ships, the lesser clans should be standing in line to join you for gold and glory."
"Is there any way to get those lesser clans joining us between now and fourteen hundred hours?"
"I have some admirals and captains in my fleet who know their counterparts in those flotillas," Admiral Tong said slowly. "I could ask them to see if those officers could get their clans to second them to the Combined Fleets. You have a reputation for victory. Being part of your victory might well raise their status."
Jacques cleared his throat. "You might suggest that clan lordlings from those minor septs and families provide lordlings for the Battleships of State. There's no reason why they shouldn't have some of the spoils from our victories."
"Will they be rich planets?" Tong asked.
"When have I ever messed with poor ones?" Kris answered.
"Mmm."
"Now, I have a visit to prepare for and I'm sure you have many things you want to do," Kris said.
The three admirals around Kris's table took their dismissal and hurried from the room.
Kris wa
ited until the door closed. "Nelly, can you shrink this table?"
In a moment, it was a small round table with just Jack, Grampa Trouble, and Jacques around it. "Jacques," Kris asked, "did I screw anything up?"
"Bear with me for a moment," the sociologist said. "I'm arriving at some conclusions about these people. First off, it's top-down. Everyone does what they're told. That works fine for those at the top of the totem pole. Or, at least it's supposed to. I read Megan's report on working with the technicians of Zargoth to get water and power back online after a clan lordling took it upon himself to sabotage half that city. I think the folks well-down the pole care more about survival and their families than they do clan politics. Notice how many of the Wo and Domm class soldiers threw down their weapons when you had them outgunned, or at least they thought you did."
"Yeah, I noticed that," Jack said. "No one was really much interested in dying for anything, but they all wanted to move up the totem pole."
"Right," Jacques said. "If you're tight in a clan orbit, you play the clan game. Now that brings us to the head of the clans. I imagine they play a pretty cutthroat game among themselves. However, they like the game. It's rewarded them with power and pleasure. The reason this Empire hasn't changed in three to five thousand years is because those guys don't want any change. Knife me in the back? Fine, that's part of the power game. Change the game in any way? Suddenly you have all of them down on you like a pack of rabid dogs."
"So," Jack said, "do they find this Human emissary and Admiral Commanding the Combined Fleets as an agent of change, or an agent to keep them safely tucked away at the top of the power pyramid?"
Now it was a very human shrug that came back at Kris. "I don't know. Likely, we won't know until something very bad happens to you, Kris."
"Worse than dropping a couple of high-rise apartments on my head?"
Jack snorted.
Jacques shrugged. "Obviously, they'll have to come up with something worse. That pile of rubble did not succeed in killing you."
"Umm," Kris answered, then changed her focus. "Grampa?"
"All I learned in the war, sweetheart, was to keep kicking them in the balls until they hollered uncle. I never found an Iteeche that would surrender to me while they still had a bullet or a grenade."
The general made a face and shook his head. "No, that's not exactly right. At the level where your Grampa Ray was negotiating, that’s the way it was. Down at my level, those four-eyed hulks fought me hard and heavy. However, once they saw they were defeated, they surrendered pretty fast. Both officers and men."
"So, those down the totem pole can be reasoned with. If they are in an impossible situation, they'll throw in the towel."
"Yeah. Most clan lords will fight to the last drop of some other clan's blood before they call it quits."
Kris nodded. She wasn't sure how much of this she could apply to the coming series of meetings, but it was all nice to know.
She closed down the meeting. Alone, she stared out the window, deep in thought.
Then Nelly reminded her that there was a fast attack transport leaving for Human space. Kris spent the rest of the morning preparing a report for King Raymond and a quick letter to her brother, Hanovi. He'd pass the news along to Father.
She had a working lunch with Abby and Ambassador Kawaguchi. Megan and Cara sat in. It was fascinating to see the gleam in their eyes as they listened to all the planning necessary to keep a diplomatic mission going hundreds of light years from the nearest Human planet. It went the same for the trade reports from Kawaguchi. Clearly, Cara would be in great demand when this mission finished. Maybe sooner if some of the great interplanetary corporations knew what was good for them.
Then it was thirteen hundred hours and it was time for Kris to risk another walk in the park with her Iteeche friends.
14
For this visit with Roth, Kris did not attempt to conceal the power of her escort. Since the entire drive would be along city streets, there was little gained by tracked vehicles and the ride on tires was smoother.
Two battalions, each with 54 gun trucks, provided a vanguard and rear guard. Another battalion of 54 infantry fighting trucks was mixed in with the gun trucks. Interspersed among them were a dozen scout trucks maintaining the drones and popping any nano spies that the situation might call for.
Today, each gun truck had a crew of five. There was the standard commander, gunner, and driver. Seated behind them were two sensor operators. One kept a careful eye on the radar feed from the battle station above the embassy as well as the close-in situation. The other maintained downlinks with all the drones in their area, including a full picture of the situation around the parade.
Kris deployed three different variations of gun trucks. Forty had a 50mm anti-armor laser that could be quickly converted to anti-air. Forty had a 50mm anti-air laser that could quickly convert to anti-armor. If they were in anti-armor mode, the gunner had control. Let it switch to Anti-Air, and the radar operator took over. He also controlled a 12mm laser that would respond to any rocket attack.
Any rocket launched from a building's window along the line of march would be drilled and exploded well before it was halfway to its target.
The remaining 28 gun trucks were pure psychology. Each mounted a 12-inch howitzer. The guns were not in train, but cut loose to point forward as well as to the right, left, and rear. Any Iteeche who got a look down one of those barrels would walk away with a serious case of respect.
The gun trucks themselves were big. Each truck carried three times the armor of the ones that had been buried under rubble. This time, if someone dumped bricks on Kris, the troops would not be crammed into survival bunkers gasping for breath. Each vehicle carried oxygen and a kit to scrub CO2.
Once burned, twice shy.
The same went for Kris’s palatial palanquin. It was just as huge as her last one, but it needed a lot more wheels to support it. The twenty-four Marines marching along each side of it still had a wing providing protective shade. Now, however, there was a winglet spreading out farther.
If they had to snatch the two Gunnies from their positions, the winglet would pull them in even as the wings swept up their Marines. Kris would still have a bunch of people in her survival bunker, but this time they'd have room for some bridge, chess, and poker games.
Even the three-wheeled motorcycles fore and aft of the parade now sported four big wheels. If they had to duck from flying bricks and stones, they'd be covered.
Kris looked at all Jack had done, and found it good. Unfortunately, it felt like she was locking the door after someone stole the barn. Still, no matter what surprise someone threw her way, she had more resources to handle it this time.
Riding the edges of the palanquin, Kris has female Marines with many bags of candy. She'd considered using Iteeche for that job, but she wanted the kids to remember that it was Humans that fed their sweet tooth.
Maybe female Marines weren't the best representatives of humanity’s softer, gentler side, but it was the best Kris could come up with in the time available.
Thus, Kris paraded down the wide avenue that was the inner circling road. The ride was short; there was only one other palace between her embassy and the We Clan palace.
Since she was traveling through the main district of the Abba Clan, she should not run into any trouble. Despite all her preparations, or maybe because of them, Kris had no trouble at all this trip.
The Admiral Commanding the Imperial Combined Fleet arrived at exactly two hours after midday. The gates to the We Clan palace were wide open. There were honor guards both outside the gates, lining the block the palace occupied, as well also inside, drawn up in order.
As her gun trucks and infantry fight trucks rolled in, they folded themselves back into large blocks of Smart Metal™ that rolled over to be absorbed into a huge and growing cube of the stuff.
Kris's personnel slid out of their rigs and trotted over to their place in formation where they quickly dressed righ
t and checked their interval. In less than five minutes, the Commanding Admiral of the Combined Fleets had an honor guard of Human and Iteeche standing in ranks across from three differently uniformed formations.
Drone feed had warned Kris what to expect, but she eyed the Iteeche Honor Guard waiting for her as her palanquin stretched out and lowered itself to squeeze through gates never intended for Kris's over-the-top display of Iteeche pomp.
Waiting for her were three battalions. One clearly wore the colors of the We clan: magenta and cream. Another of the other formations wore burgundy and tan uniforms. The last was in turquoise and white.
CLAN COLORS? Kris asked on Nelly net.
THOSE ARE THE CLAN COLORS OF THE QUO AND ABBA CLANS, KRIS.
I THOUGHT SO. JACK, THERE MAY BE A PRIZE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT.
KRIS, YOU THINK YOU MAY BE FACING ALL THREE CLAN LORDS AT ONCE?
WOULD YOU TAKE THAT BET?
NOPE.
Kris let Jacques and Jack dismount first. Grampa Trouble, or rather General Tordon, Hammerer of the Iteeche, preceded Kris. Normally, she kept Grampa Trouble in the nursery. After all, he and Gramma had only come along to help with Ruth and Johnnie when she and Jack were off blowing things up.
Today, however, she was hauling in the big guns.
Kris was last to let the palanquin's elevator take her to the ground. She marched to the head of her guard even as more of it rolled into the palace and folded its armor away.
In front of her, Ron and his two friends Freddy and Shorty, bowed to Kris. She saluted them.
"May we offer you refreshments?" Ron said, most obsequiously even for an Iteeche.
"Thank you, Ron, but I would prefer to share refreshments with your clan lords."
"Of course. Let me lead you to them."
"By a direct route?" Kris asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Most certainly," he said. A magic metal elevator slowly grew along the outside of the palace. By the time the small group got there, it reached to the top.
Kris's four and the three Iteeche stepped inside and were quickly whisked to the garden on the roof. Ron led them through a jungle of blossoming flowers, past a goldfish pond, and into an open space.
Kris Longknife Stalwart Page 10
