Kris Longknife Stalwart

by Mike Shepherd

  Under the Provost Marshall's hard stare, the five civilians gave ground.

  Another sergeant and a corporal arrived from the forensic unit. The Iteeche MPs began to shear the two prisoners of their clothes with little care and less concern. They both ended up with some long scratches across their skin.

  No one offered them any medical care.

  Megan found herself surveying where they stood. Her two prisoners lay in clear sight of way too many windows from the surrounding streets. It was a sniper’s free fire zone.

  "Lily, convert one of the gun trucks into a covering for us and our prisoners."

  One of the gun truck/police vans began to melt and reform into a temporary hut.

  "I don't mind getting out of the sun," the Provost Marshall said, "but why bring this foul bait into your nice air conditioning?"

  "I don't care if their fingers and toes melt," Megan growled. "What I won't have is somebody from one of the surrounding buildings putting a bullet through their brains."

  "Oh. Right. Good thought."

  The LT and her sergeant finished swabbing down about every centimeter of the suspects’ exposed skin.

  "Commander, I'm going to run half of these test strips up the beanstalk and have them tested in the lab."

  "Is there anything you're ready to share with me yet?" Megan asked.

  "Questions, ma'am. Provost," the mustang officer said, acknowledging the senior Iteeche present. "We have two explosions. I think they were different, but I don't have proof of that yet. They could have been built in different locations, but I don't know that yet. We have two potential culprits, both of whom show much more evidence of explosive residue than one of them should. Could we have hit the jackpot and snared both bombers? I think that is too much to expect, but I'm not going to assume or reject any data until I have a full set of test results."

  "Understood. Now, Lieutenant, you tend to your knitting, and I'll tend to mine."

  "Happily, ma'am," and the LT strode off with a jaunty air.

  "Lily, get me the Human engineering officer in charge."

  The voice that came on net was not the same voice she'd been working with. "Lieutenant Colonel San Simon."

  "Commander Longknife here. Are you fully involved in plugging the last water pipe?"

  "Pretty much, ma'am."

  "Do you have any spare assets?"

  "May I ask what for?"

  "I need a jail. I have two prisoners I don’t want them going anywhere or getting killed. Can you modify a local Iteeche structure into a secure building?"

  "Do you have Smart Metal we can work with?"

  "Yes. Can you burrow my jail into a brick building without bringing it down?"

  "There's another company about due. I'll see if we can give you a construction platoon."

  A few minutes later, an eager first lieutenant and a less confident gunny sergeant reported to Megan. She explained what she wanted, and gave them Smart Metal™ to be used in reinforcing the Iteeche construction.

  After ten minutes of surveying the inside and outside of the building, a diamond saw made short work of the first floor's exterior wall. A modified bulldozer moved the wall back as Smart Metal™ kept the entire front of the building from collapsing. The Smart Metal™ jail slid easily into the largest room of the building. The removed outer wall trundled back in place, and, for all anyone would care to see, there was nothing to indicate there were detainees inside.

  Well, there was something. Down the street from the building modified for a jail, there was a thin balloon of metal.

  If somebody wanted something to shoot at, they now had a target. Megan combed a company of Human combat Marines out of the security work they had been scattered to. They took up posts on the tallest buildings around. Micrometer wavelength radar was established at high points, ready to spot any incoming fire and backtrack to its point of origin.

  Megan finally took the time to take some pain meds. Lily made her a more comfortable chair, then made sure she didn't fall asleep.

  With half the pipes carrying water, some of the fires were brought under control. As night fell, the engineers worked under lamps, trying to figure out a way to bridge the gap from the blocked pipe to the empty one across from it.

  Meanwhile, reports came in concerning looting in the empty buildings. The Governor and the mayor ordered Iteeche police and soldiers to move into the blackened streets. Apparently the Rules of Engagement were liberal; every few minutes, shots rang out.

  Megan had never seen an Iteeche jail. Apparently, the concept was strange to the Provost Marshall. A drunk tank for sailors to sleep it off, yes. A brig for minor infractions, yes.

  Strike an officer, and there was no need for incarceration. Spacing was the usual punishment. It was filmed, both what took place inside and outside the air lock. The civil lords over the fleet thought that solved any problem.

  Megan wondered what Admiral Tong thought of that.

  About midnight, the corpsmen allowed her to get some sleep.

  Shortly after dawn, Kris ordered Megan to report to the Princess Royal. The work dirtside was done. The water flowed through all the pipes through a marvelously engineered repair. Communications and power were back online.

  The only question left was who did it and why.

  Two Longknifes wanted to know the answers to those questions very, very much.

  36

  Megan boarded an enlarged gun truck with her prisoners in the back, chained and separated by a wall. A full brigade accompanied the prisoners, two battalions of Iteeche and one of Humans.

  There was no doubt in her mind that Kris would personally see these prisoners.

  Apparently, however, Meg dozed off just after the drive began. She must have slept through the entire beanstalk ride up, because the next thing Megan knew, her vehicle was pulling to a stop at the brow of the Princess Royal.

  Rubbing sleep from her eyes, and trying to ignore a pounding headache, she dismounted. Two squads of Human Marines from the P. Royal removed her prisoners and hurried them up the gangplank and into a brig just off the quarterdeck next to Admiral Longknife's day quarters.

  Also waiting for Megan on the quarterdeck was the LT from the forensic team.

  "You ready for this?" Megan asked her.

  "I have the facts. Someone else will have to interpret them," the mustang LT said crisply. Apparently she got more sleep than Megan, or, being a former Gunny, knew how to sleep wherever and whenever.

  Likely with her eyes open.

  Kris was waiting for them at a conference table in her day quarters. Interestingly, only Admiral Tong represented the Iteeche. Jack sat at Kris's other elbow. This was to be a small, likely decisive, meeting.

  "Tell me exactly what facts you have," Admiral Longknife demanded.

  Megan turned to the LT. "This is your bailiwick."

  "Admiral, we've examined two explosions. The one that destroyed the water pipes used sophisticated military plastic explosives. The second explosion used a common civilian compound, something like T-ammonal, a mixture of trinitrotoluene, or TNT if you prefer, ammonium nitrate, aluminum powder, and a bit of charcoal. It is less effective, but the objective was to blow a building apart, create blast, and launch destructive flying debris, which we all experienced," the Marine lieutenant said ruefully.

  "Based on our spectral analysis, I can say that the second package of explosives was manufactured here on Balan. The first explosion, however, came from elsewhere. Like hundreds of light years from here."

  "How can you know that?" Admiral Tong asked.

  "Sir, we are all made of stardust," the Marine officer said.

  When the Iteeche admiral merely stared at her, she continued.

  "That is not just poetry, but also a fact. After the big bang, the first generation of stars were huge monsters that burned through their fuel fast, from hydrogen to helium, then larger elements up to iron before they went supernova and blasted their elements through space to seed the next generation o
f stars. Those of us who live in the same interstellar neighborhood are made of the same star dust from either one of those supernovas or a later one."

  "I see," said the Iteeche admiral, though he sure didn't sound like he did.

  "Each star burns the same, only differently. Each star's dust has a fingerprint. The main elements are the same. However, the ratio of different isotopes in the mix vary. When you take the mix of stable isotopes of the most common elements like carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and iron and compare them, you find extremely slight, but measurable differences in their isotopic ratios. All the stars in the same cluster have this fingerprint, or marker, if you will."

  The woman officer eyed the Iteeche admiral. He nodded and she continued.

  "Based on our analysis of the explosives and the metal parts of the bomb that we found, the C-14 bomb is from someplace else. The other bomb is from here. With a bit of work, we could likely locate the sources for the minerals."

  The Marine officer glanced down at her battle board, then swiped one page.

  "We also have done a full spectrograph of their clothes. No surprise here, the fellow covered in residue from the C-14 bomb wore fibers and metal from the same other part of the galaxy. The other Iteeche, the one who handled the local bomb, wore clothes from Balan's neck of the galaxy. I imagine if we were to take tissue and bone samples, we'd find the same parallel, Admirals."

  The lieutenant finished her report with a final, "I await your orders."

  The room fell silent. Megan eyed Kris. She could almost hear the wheels spinning in her cousin's head. Meg leaned back, eager to see how the Great Longknife Legend worked its magic again.

  37

  Grand Admiral Kris Longknife, Commanding Admiral of the Combined Fleet and all ships presently in the process of capturing the Balan system, frowned. She knew of the stardust story. She had just never expected it to have bearing on a crime she wanted solved.

  Kris took a long few minutes to think all this through. The case wasn't nearly as airtight as she would have preferred. Even if she did prove the explosives and clothing placed the bomber on the Imperial Capital planet, she had only the bomb residue to connect them, and no connection to any clan waiting expectantly on the Battleships of State. Still, any connection, no matter how tenuous, might be used to pry a door open that was currently slammed shut.

  Finally, Kris said, "I think we need to know whether or not this C-14 was manufactured in the Imperial Capital system."

  Admiral Tong twisted his body around to face her, then raised two of his four eyebrows.

  Kris went on. "If it came from anywhere else in Iteeche space, it tells us nothing, but if it comes from the capital? Well, we have several Battleships of State tied up next to my flag that just came from there."

  "I see. And for that you need a sample of something from the capital to compare your other samples against. Though, even if you find that the C-14 is from that area of space, will we really have established that it is from the capital?"

  "No," Kris admitted. "But we shall have certain evidence that a reasonable person might find interesting. Possibly creating a connection."

  The Iteeche grunted, then raised his commlink to his lips. "Leal, please bring me your new stool immediately. I'm over on the Princess Royal at the moment."

  "Sir?" was loud enough to make it through the Iteeche's commlink.

  "No whining, Leal. With luck, I'll give most of it back to you."

  "Yes, sir," sounded very dejected.

  Ten minutes later, Kris knew why. Captain Leal showed up with a sailor pushing a stool ahead of him. The stool looked much like the stools Kris had been creating for the Iteeche from Smart Metal, only this stool had the smell of leather and wood about it, something that metal objects missed.

  What immediately caught Kris's eye was that this particular stood rolled on wheels and had a central spindle up from the six wheels that allowed the stool to swivel. Whoever sat on this stool could spin it around and roll it about.

  "My flag captain had this made while we were orbiting the capital. He had to order it special from a couple of craftsmen at the bazaar, didn't you, Leal?"

  "Yes, sir. They promised me that they used the finest local products. Iron, copper, and tin from their own mines back in the mountains. Leather from freshly-caught seals, and freshly-grown fiber for the padding. Is that important?"

  "Yes," the Iteeche admiral said.

  At the Human Marine lieutenant's request, the Iteeche Sailor set the stool upside down on the table between Megan and the lieutenant.

  Kris and everyone with her at the table eyed the contraption. "Very good," she said.

  "Thank you, Most Eminent Admiral," the Iteeche captain stuttered out. "I have often thought that I could be more productive if I could take some of the weight off my feet."

  "We'll make sure this is not destroyed," Kris said. "Right, Megan?"

  "I hope so. Lily, to what extent is this station chair over-engineered? Keep in mind the Iteeche weigh more than us."

  "So, you're teaching your gramma to suck eggs, huh?" Lily quipped.

  Megan looked surprised at that retort. Kris chuckled softly. Nelly was often that cheeky.

  There was a knock at the inboard door.

  "Enter," Kris called.

  A Human Marine sergeant came in at a trot, carrying a metal toolbox. He set it down on the deck and eyed the upside-down stool.

  "What do you want, Lieutenant?"

  "We want to take some samples from the metal on this stool, but we don't want to destroy its utility."

  "Understood. How large a sample will you need?"

  "Two- or three-square centimeters of metal, leather, and fiber if you can get it. No need for them to be square, though."

  "Right, ma'am," the sergeant said, eyeing the stool. "Whoever did the leather left extra hanging. I can snip a strip for that. The leather is held by bronze nails. I can pull one and replace it with a Smart Metal one that looks just like it."

  "Good," Kris said."

  Now the sergeant carefully studied the steel supports for the wooden stool. After a moment, he concentrated on a large central strake that stretched along the bottom of the stool.

  "The central strake that runs from front to back needs to be the strongest. These two lateral strakes at the end bear the least load. Let's see how much metal I can get doing a thin scallop cut. I'll keep the area around the screws untouched, okay?"

  The sample quickly went into an evidence box intended for hot items.

  He repeated this three more times. At the end of his work, he had four strips locked away.

  "If you'll excuse me," the LT said, "I'll oversee this going through the P. Royal's mass spectrometer. I doubt if any ship of the fleet has one as overpriced as hers."

  "Be glad I demanded it," Kris said. "Admiral, would your captain care to accompany my lieutenant?"

  "I've read about how you Humans are mad about maintaining a chain of custody," Admiral Tong replied.

  "Studying up on us Humans?"

  "I'm hooked on police procedurals at the moment. Your story telling techniques are so much more visual and have a strange power. Much more powerful than our singing," the admiral admitted. "I'm borrowing from your ship's entertainment library. It is catching on among my junior officers. I had one ensign do a Bogart on me yesterday. We Iteeche will need to find something we can trade. Your media is addictive."

  "No all of it is true," Kris was quick to point out.

  "You may have to add a voice-over to that effect. It was nice to see that some of your cops are just as forceful as any Iteeche public service officer is."

  "Yes," Kris groaned inwardly. "We must do some voice-overs."

  One door closed behind the two officers and the opposite door behind the sailor as he left to return his captain's stool to his ship. Kris said, "Megan, do you want to bring your prisoners in for a talk?"

  "One at a time, ma'am?"

  "Yes."

  "Are we going to interrogate
them?" Admiral Tong asked eagerly. "Which of you will be the good cop? Which the bad cop?"

  "Likely neither," Kris said, dryly.

  Megan stepped out and soon returned with a naked Iteeche. His skin showed splotches of blue, pink, and purple from the application of explosive residue compounds that had not been completely wiped away.

  The Iteeche prisoner looked terrified.

  Megan looked puzzled as to what to do with her prisoner.

  NELLY? STOCKS OR A GIBBIT?

  I'M NOT SURE STOCKS WOULD SERVE WELL. ITEECHE HAVE AWFULLY THICK NECKS.

  YEAH. GET US AN X CROSS TO MANACLE HIS ARMS.

  A solid, 30 cm square wooden beam rose, rough-hewn, from the deck. It even showed wicked splinters. At its top, it sprouted two cross beams of similar strength in the shape of a double Y. Kris would have expected something like that at the bottom, but Nelly skipped it.

  Megan and the two hefty Marines that dragged the Iteeche in got one of the prisoner’s left arms manacled to the top crossbar, then the other left arm to the lower cross bar. They quickly repeated the process with his right arms.

  Kris did her best to suppress a smile. Was she the only one that saw how Nelly slipped in some extra chains so the prisoner's hands could reach up and over?

  On the deck, the two manacles on his left legs were hooked by a loop of metal and secured to the deck.

  Oh, Smart Metal™ is so nice to have around.

  In a moment, the Iteeche's right side was also locked down. He hung there, his head down, waiting for what would come next.

  From the look on his face, he expected it to be brutal, quick, and final.

  38

  "So," Kris said, beginning her interrogation. She stayed seated, made no threatening moves toward the fellow, and kept her voice low. "You blew up the capital's water supply just as it was surrendering to me."

  He said nothing, which wasn't hard to explain. He had a wickedly hard metal dental dam blocking his mouth open.