Kris Longknife Stalwart

by Mike Shepherd

  "Megan, has his mouth been searched?"

  Her aide de camp gave Kris an affirmative nod. "We removed two hollow teeth that had poison in them."

  "Somebody really wanted you dead," Kris said to her prisoner. "Meg, I don't know if you or Lily were the one that came up with the idea of the metal dental dam." Or where you got it from. "I really don't want to know. It has saved his life, but let's let the poor guy close his mouth."

  "Yes, ma'am," Megan said. In a moment, the metal dental dam flowed down his chin like saliva and vanished into the deck.

  The Iteeche bomber worked his beak, maybe to get feeling back to his face. Maybe to search for another way out. He finally huffed a sigh and glared at Kris and the Iteeche admiral.

  "You might as well admit it," Kris went on. "We found all sorts of residue on you indicating that you handled the C-14 plastic explosives. Didn't you even think of using gloves?"

  The Iteeche gave Kris a puzzled frown.

  "How can you tell I handled the explosives?"

  Admiral Tong issued a coughing Iteeche laugh.

  "Next time you attack someone, don't go near the Humans. Admiral Longknife, am I correct in saying that some of the streaks on his skin are from that explosive residue compound you use?"

  "Yes. It paints a very pretty picture." Kris said, then changed the subject to sheer terror.

  "Have you ever been to a ceremony where an Iteeche make a Most Sincere and Very Complete Apology to the Emperor?" Kris asked, diffidently.

  The terror in the prisoner's eyes expanded. Jerkily he shook his head. Since his neck didn't move that much, it had to start at his hips. His effort ran afoul of his chains and lurched to a stop.

  "He would have seen several such Very Complete Apologies carried over the media. We broadcast them for all to see."

  "To encourage the others," Kris said, bitterly. "Well, have you seen such apologies in the media?"

  "They are shown before sing-alongs for a month afterwards," the Iteeche admiral told Kris. "You've seen them, right?"

  Now the prisoner struggled to raise his head up and down.

  "You see, clansman," Kris said. "You are a clansman, right?"

  The prisoner stood stock still.

  Yep. You work for the clan. I wonder how high up.

  "Well, whatever you are, I find apologies lacking in the proper science."

  "How would you Humans apply your science to our apologies?" Admiral Tong said, playing straight man to Kris's horror.

  "The snake bite is so random. From the way the Iteeche dies so fast, clearly, the snake is injecting too much venom."

  "Well, it's a snake bite," Tong said.

  "Yes," Kris went on, so reasonable, "but if we milked the snake of its poison beforehand, we could inject just the right amount of snake venom into the Iteeche. He'd take more time to die and suffer more agony. You Iteeche really need to update this way you execute people. Be scientific."

  The Iteeche admiral stroked the few small hairs on his chin. "I see. You have a point."

  "Would I have to go all the way to the Emperor to get this changed?" Kris asked, just sounding curious about something as if it didn't mean a horrible death or an even more horrible death to her listener.

  "Well, My Most Eminent Human Admiral," Tong said, sounding extremely helpful, "as Admiral Commanding the Imperial Combined Fleet with a mandate direct from the Emperor's hand, you could probably implement it in matters concerning the Combined Fleet immediately. That way, those afraid of changing a single thing in the Empire might see how it worked for you and be more willing to accept the change."

  "Good," Kris said. "Now, I take it that someone who blew up the water supply on a planet I'm in the process of capturing would indeed be in my jurisdiction. I could experiment on him," Kris said, eyeing the prisoner eagerly.

  He was weeping where he stood and had lost control of his bodily functions. The blowers in the room kicked into high, wafting air from vents behind Kris and removing it through vents behind the prisoner.

  It was a lot nicer with him down wind.

  "Yes," Admiral Tong said, leaning forward. "I definitely think both the fleet and the people of Balan would be very happy to watch this one die slowly.”

  The man tried to fall to his knees. He likely didn't notice when Nelly lengthened the chains on his arms so he could.

  "Please," he pleaded. "I haven't seen anyone die worse than a Very Formal Apology. Please. You can't do that to me."

  "Tell us what we want to know," Kris said, again diffidently, "and we'll see what we can do about that."

  The Iteeche shook his head. "No. No. I can't tell you anything. They'll kill me."

  The Iteeche backed up until his rump bumped against the timber. He struggled to his feet. "I can't tell you anything."

  "So, you're afraid that if we don't kill you, that they will kill you?" Kris asked.

  The Iteeche prisoner nodded.

  "What if I promised you that you can live out your life to a happy old age? Maybe even become a Chooser."

  The prisoner eyed Kris as if she was crazy.

  "Admiral Tong, I've heard songs about being the first lander on a new colony. If you don't do something stupid and let the planet kill you, you can become a major landowner. A businessman. A leader of a local branch of a clan even if you were born or your papers say you are outside of the clans."

  "That's what the songs say," Admiral Tong said. "It's hard work and the fates are at your elbow every night. Still, they may choose you for wealth or they may choose you for death. It's your risk. It seems to me that it's a lot less risk than a needle with snake venom in it or taking your chance on the streets of Balan."

  The prisoner had clammed up. He had nothing more to say.

  "Okay, I can understand your feelings," Kris said, as if no one in the room had a care in the world. "However, you have to understand, this colonizing offer won't be on the table forever. I intend to make the same offer to the guy caught with you. If he tells me which clans you two are from and names a few names for me to talk to next, he gets the offer and it's off the table for you."

  The prisoner slumped against his chains.

  "Megan, you and the Marines set him up in a temporary brig in my night quarters. Lily can do that for you. I don't want to hear a peep from him."

  "We'll make it soundproof," Megan assured Kris.

  "Oh, and you might want to hang around him. He might change his mind. You can never tell."

  "No, you can't," Megan agreed.

  39

  Kris didn't pay much attention while they walked the next prisoner in. She had Nelly projecting the image from her night quarters onto Kris's eye so she could see how that went down.

  Her bed had become a cell even before the guard detail and prisoner entered the room. They tossed him in the tiny cell and slammed the door shut.

  About that time, the new prisoner was hauled in and secured to the X.

  In the other room, the prisoner was complaining that his cell was too small. Megan turned it into a long, thin arrangement that looked like a dog run and the Iteeche began to pace up and down its length.

  Kris left him to stew and turned to the new prisoner. He was shackled like the previous one. He was already crying and making puddles of brown and yellow at his feet.

  The blowers were going as fast as they could. Kris would just have to put up with it.

  Again, Kris told the prisoner that the local excruciating way of executing prisoners could be improved upon if the Humans just applied science to it.

  The prisoner’s beak dropped open and just kept dropping.

  Kris shared the idea with Admiral Tong as if it was a new concept. She waved her hands as if she hadn't a care in the world, and coming up with new ways to viciously kill people was her favorite pastime.

  Most humans would be groveling on the deck, begging to do whatever they could for Kris if only they didn't die like that. The Iteeche did no such thing. Apparently, this prisoner, like the last, just
assumed they were dead and the only matter on the table was how they'd die.

  Once again, Kris had to drag the prisoner around to offering her a quid pro quo.

  "Of course, we might be able put you on a first ship to a new colony. Rework your papers so no one there knows who you are. You might prefer this pioneer life to some other options. I might be persuaded to give you a chance for a long life if you give me the name of your clan and who put you up to this."

  He was already shaking his head before Kris got the words out of her mouth.

  "There's no place in the galaxy I could go that they would not follow me. No place that they would not kill me slower than you would kill me. No. No way."

  "Okay, but I should tell you that the offer is on the table. The woman who brought you up here is next door, encouraging your friend to give us what we want. Whoever speaks first gets the colonizing deal. Whoever holds out the longest, gets the needle."

  Kris turned away from her prisoner. "Sergeant, take the man back out. Stay close. He might want to tell you something. Oh, and give him some room to walk in. Pacing might help him think better."

  A few minutes later, the brig off the quarterdeck showed a long, narrow cell that was perfect for pacing. Just for chuckles and grins, Kris had Nelly time the two. They were both pacing their cells at about six klicks an hour.

  Kris ordered meatloaf sandwiches brought up as well as a live fish lunch for Admiral Tong. After reviewing the matter, she ordered the same meals for the prisoners.

  "At best, they deserve a raw yam," the Iteeche admiral said. "More likely, we'd just let them go hungry."

  "Yes," Kris said, "I know. However, remember, I'm trying to show them that we want a different outcome to our mutual problem. By treating them differently, they might get the point."

  "You Humans are absolutely crazy," Admiral Tong snapped.

  "No, sir. We are alien, something I must often remind myself when I'm talking with even my best Iteeche friends and associates."

  "It is so strange to view oneself as the alien," the Iteeche admiral said, thoughtfully.

  "But it gives us a new perspective, doesn't it?"

  "Kris, the food is ready," Nelly reported. "I could have it appear in the cells and at Megan's side."

  "Yes," Kris said, suspecting where this conversation was going.

  "However, I think delivering the meal by a cart pushed by a wardroom steward would have a greater impact."

  Kris smiled. Her computer was getting very good at measuring how the impact of certain actions on Humans and Iteeche affected them.

  "Very good idea, Nelly. Make it so. Oh, and deliver a sandwich to the sergeant guarding the other miscreant. I expect Megan will want sit down for lunch. Match his action to hers. Understood?"

  "Oh, perfectly, Admiral. We will play them like they were penny whistles."

  "Nelly, I doubt if anyone has been able to buy anything for a penny in centuries. Now, get along with this bit of judicial theatre."

  The Iteeche admiral raised all four of his eyebrows. "Am I detecting a bit of caring for our prisoners in you, My Most Eminent Admiral?"

  "Yes, Admiral Tong, you are. These aren't the real criminals. Yes, they followed orders and got their hands dirty with the explosives that threatened to leave millions homeless, and killed our troopers. However, they were merely the pawns maneuvered into position in someone's game of chess. Do you have a board game like chess?"

  "Your translator is working fine. Yes, we have a game that matches wits in a bloodless game of medieval warfare."

  Kris nodded. "I don't want the pawns. I want the bishop or paladin. If I can squeeze them for names and proof of how high this went, I will ship them off to try their luck at the bottom of a new colony. I want the king. The queen. Those are the individuals I'd request be given the long, slow, and excruciatingly painful apology to the Emperor."

  Admiral Tong took a long while to meditate on Kris's ideas and objectives.

  "I would have called them traitors and executed them immediately," he said, slowly. When next he spoke it was slow and thoughtful, as if each word was a newly discovered land.

  "I begin to see what you have been talking about. Our clan lords play their games for power and a larger following. They send puppets out to do the bloody work for them, usually killing pawns from the other side. Never do they sweat. Never do they bleed."

  He turned to eye Kris, focusing all four of his on her own two eyes as if he looked into her soul.

  "I begin to understand why you brought the coup to a halt before too many soldiers died. If you had not been there, it would have been a bloody brawl with entire blocks of houses demolished and many soldiers and women and children caught under the rubble.

  "Instead, when the guns fell silent, apartments still stood. Few of the lower ranks on either side were dead. Instead, two Clan palaces were smoking wrecks and two Clan chieftains lay dead among the scattered debris."

  "They refused to end the firefight," Kris said. "Their soldiers were checked. I would call them all checkmated. It was time to quit and they refused."

  "They refused," the Iteeche admiral answered, still thinking on each word, "because so few of their fighters had been killed. You and I know that you had them trapped with only killing zones to their front and flanks. Still, it is the Iteeche Way that the Clan Chief orders the troops forward, and they die trying. Occasionally, the fight goes a surprising way. It costs the Clan Lord nothing to throw the dice again."

  "Yes," Kris agreed. "So, I raised the price on that last, worthless roll of the dice. I made it deadly for the Clan Chief. How do the powers that be feel about my change to the Iteeche Way?"

  "Umm," the admiral grunted. "It is hard to tell where the feelings for the one 'adjustment' you made to the Iteeche Way ends and the next one begins. Housing for junior sailors, Guardsmen, and Marines so they can share their lives with a chosen woman. The need has always been there, but no one has dared strive for it. The Clan Chieftains have their harems. They dole out time with the girls in them as a reward for services rendered. Now, you change all that for your sailors and Marines. I have no idea where that is going or where it will end. You have men and women, pair mated, crewing your ships."

  Kris glanced at Jack.

  He nodded. "Yes, Admiral. Do you have a woman that you would like to share your cabin with?"

  "We already have a thousand males on each of our warships. How could we support another thousand that make no contribution to us fighting the ship?"

  Kris cleared her throat but said nothing.

  "Yes, yes. I know a woman commands here, but . . ." the Iteeche admiral ran out of words.

  "You cannot see an Iteeche woman in a laser team, standing an engineering watch, helping feed the crew?" Kris let her words just hang there.

  The admiral with too many eyes began to sputter his thoughts, but a chief steward’s mate interrupted by wheeling in a cart with their lunches laid out in a beautiful symmetry.

  He laid the lunches before Kris as if it were a banquet, not a sandwich with pasta salad.

  "Have you served the prisoners?" Kris asked.

  "I serve you first, Admiral," the chief said with the kind of gentle reproof chiefs have had for officers over the last thousand years. So, Kris received the gentle correction that was reserved for those seniors in rank only and who either don't know their proper place, or more like her being a Longknife, refused to stay in.

  "Thank you, Chief. Once we are served, please serve the officer keeping a prisoner company in a cell in my night quarters. Then do the same for the sergeant and his prisoner in the cell just off the quarterdeck.”

  "Aye, aye, ma'am."

  "Nelly, get me the two Humans overseeing our prisoners."

  "I have them."

  "Yes, Admiral," and "Yes, ma'am," came in rapid fire.

  "I want you to dine with our prisoners. Nelly will be raising tables and chairs, or stools, for all four of you facing each other through the bars. I want you to make
this a friendly repast between comfortable associates, if not friends. Sergeant, beer may appear at your table. Unless you have a serious problem with alcohol, I'd like you to drink it. I'll be looking for something like alcohol for your prisoner. This goes for you two, Megan. Befriend our bombers."

  "Yes, Admiral," Megan snapped.

  "Ma'am," was pained from the sergeant.

  "Sergeant, yes these guys pulled the trigger, but I want the guy who gave them the bomb. I want the guy who gave the order to put the bomb in place. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, ma'am. This guy is a little fish. We want the big fish."

  "Precisely. If you must, get them drunk. Try not to actually get drunk yourselves. I want them to spill names."

  "Understood," Megan said. "Aye, aye, ma'am," came from the sergeant. Kris rang off.

  She immediately turned back to Admiral Tong. "The reference to little fish and big fish is an ancient Human phrase. Do little fish sometimes get used for bait to catch bigger fish in the Empire?"

  "Long enough that I understood your words exactly. Thank you for checking to see if your phrase was offensive. I will try to make the same effort if I think some of our traditional aphorisms might be misunderstood."

  "Thank you. Now, Nelly, show me what's going on with our prisoners."

  40

  Kris watched as a holograph appeared on the table in front of her and her guests.

  First the chief went to Megan. Either Nelly or Lily pulled a table out of the floor and a seat for the young commander. The chief set Megan's table just as carefully as he had set Kris's, then he turned to eye the situation on the other side of the bars.

  Before he had to ask, Megan's table stretched out, giving plenty of room for two to eat. The prisoner had stopped pacing and eyed her meal like any man who hadn't eaten in twelve hours or more, though the dead and cooked meal must have been off-putting.

  When the table expanded and the chief laid out a meal fit for an Iteeche, the prisoner actually showed dismay and backed up a bit. Likely, having the meal laid out under his nose but on the other side of the bars must have looked like a vicious torture.