Kris Longknife: Defender

by Mike Shepherd

  The man gulped. Now his face showed relief that he wouldn’t be taking the Connie out anytime soon, but Kris had also dropped a heavy burden on him and his crew. She expected a lot of what was wrong to be right before the yard had to lend a hand.

  “And, Mr. Sims, if I were in your shoes, I’d set Condition Able and give the crew some more comfortable and private quarters. We’re a long way from home and we have those bastards breathing down our neck. Things are bad enough without hunting for morale problems.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Good idea.” At last, he showed relief.

  “Now, to our main problem. We came here to fight. We brought a base force, thank you very much, Mr. Benson, to keep us in fighting shape. We brought an industrial base to support us. We brought everything we thought we needed, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.” Kris paused. It was clear her listeners had already gotten The Word.

  “They say an Army moves on its stomach, and, at least in that one way, Navies are the same. The folks below have been living on the edge of starvation for eighty years, and they don’t have a reserve that can feed twenty thousand more mouths. We must feed ourselves.”

  “And the beer, ma’am?”

  Kris didn’t see where the question came from, but she had the answer and gave it to them. “Since we arrived, the colonials have not had a drop to drink. They’ve given us all they have. I wondered why I was drinking water on my honeymoon.”

  That got a laugh, but a dry one.

  “This morning, Marines dropped down to look at several ways to increase the food available to us and the colonials. Some worked. Others were less successful. A few big-toothed critters thought to develop a taste for Marine and will be served up as barbecue tonight.”

  More laughter.

  “If the Marines get their sights on more of them, we may be serving a new kind of burger at the Canopus Burger Bin.”

  Some looked intrigued by the thought of a new taste. Others, not so much.

  “As soon as I finish here, I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the industrial and mining types. We’ll be going over their plans. Those plans will now include such logistical items as steel fishing boats, aircraft to speed up the survey of this planet, and trucks and ships to haul food from where we find it to where our stomachs are. They are in for a surprise.”

  That got a good laugh. The Navy had a thing about surprising proud business types.

  “However, we need to get more food moving into our supply chain fast. The fastest way to do that is to use Smart Metal to knock together some things we need quickly. The only source for Smart Metal is the ships you’re training to fight. We’ll be off-loading anything that doesn’t have to be on you. Marines, scientists, Hellburners. That will give us some Smart Metal.”

  Kris paused. The room had gotten real quiet.

  “Also, we’ll be off-loading more Smart Metal by thinning your armor. The plan is to return all the Smart Metal before we have to fight.”

  “How you gonna do that?” Again, Kris didn’t see her questioner, but she clearly spoke for the whole room.

  “We brought jump point and communication buoys. We have enough to cover every jump within twelve jumps of this planet. If a buoy goes silent, we go on alert. If two in a row go down, we drop everything and get ready to fight.”

  That didn’t settle the question as well as it could. Some seemed sure the warning system would work. Others were doubters.

  Kris recognized an argument she could not win and went on.

  “We’ll also be taking some of your personnel to crew fishing boats and a freighter or two, fly transports, and go hunting. Some shore leaves may involve a lot fewer bars and a lot more digging for wild vegetables and fruits, maybe even hunting for meat.”

  “Well, if we’ve drunk the pubs dry, I might feel like shooting something,” a wag offered, and got the laugh he deserved.

  Kris let the room enjoy the humor and waited until it sobered.

  “Good men and women died fighting that the people on this planet might live. Yes, we’ve got a hard fight ahead of us, but it’s one we can win. Yes, getting ready for this fight just got harder and more complicated, but it’s nothing we can’t handle together. When we look back on this, we will have quite a tale to tell our grandkids. Every time they hear it, they will know that they come from heroes.

  “Dismissed.”

  32

  Kris found Amanda, Penny, and Masao waiting in the passageway outside her quarters.

  “Have you heard anything from the wild-wood expedition?” Amanda asked. Her Jacques was with Jack and two platoons of Imperial Marines.

  “My last report is that they found some real ugly critters, some kind of cross between a kangaroo and a saber-toothed tiger.”

  Amanda blanched.

  “No casualties on our side. Several of the kanga-tigers have been invited to dinner. Jack hopes the aroma of a barbecue will draw out the locals.”

  “But no contact?” Amanda said.

  “They haven’t shot at us; nor have they talked to us,” Kris said.

  “The first inning is over, and the score is nothing to nothing,” said Masao. “It looks to be a long ball game.”

  “And now we have our own ball game,” Kris said. “If you will follow me.”

  Kris entered her day cabin. Her chair at the table was empty, as were the ones at either elbow. As soon as one of the six private reps saw that another seat was needed close to Kris, he gave up his chair.

  Nelly lengthened the table and added a chair for him.

  “I can never get used to that,” one of those who hadn’t had to move muttered softly.

  “There’s a lot to get used to on this side of the galaxy,” Kris said.

  “Like nothing to eat,” said the young woman who’d done the best talking last evening.

  “So you’ve heard?” Kris said.

  “Why didn’t you tell us about that last night?” one of the men demanded.

  “Because Amanda, here,” Kris said, indicating the lovely economist with a wave of her hand, “didn’t have a chance to tell me about what she found until after you left. I figured I could dump more on you or see what you have done so far, then let you adjust as you see fit.” Kris glanced around the table. “By the way, weren’t there fifteen here last night?”

  “Six are working on refining what we are presenting you. I’m afraid the others are trying to drink the bar dry. I’m not sure how that will help any. No doubt they will soon be cut off.”

  “I foresee career openings on fishing boats, as farmhands, and gathering wild roots, nuts, and berries,” Kris said.

  “They weren’t bad men in human space. Your honest briefing last night was a shock to us all. I hope they’ll recover. Okay, let’s get started, I’m Pipra Strongarm, and yes, I can arm wrestle with the best of them. I thought I was number two in the Nuu Enterprises’ management, but then you pulled out your CEO status, and my boss adjourned to the bar. There has been some reorganization since last night. Two corporations, their top managers trying to drink my top management under the table, have resulted in their two-sixths of the enterprise being taken over by Nuu Enterprises.”

  “How’d that happen?” Kris asked.

  “With no leadership to notice, I kind of performed a gentle takeover. There are advantages, some think, to working for the company that the viceroy has control of. Also, in the mess we’re in, having a damn Longknife calling the shots, at least Kris Longknife, makes it seem like a good idea.”

  Pipra paused. “However, there being no stock exchange or financial institution to fund anything, my hold on things is purely voluntary. If I were in your shoes, Your Highness, Viceroy of Alwa, I’d walk carefully.”

  “Hard to believe as it may be, Pipra, that’s how I always like to walk,” Kris said.

  “It just hardly ever comes out that way,” Penny s
aid.

  “Let’s pause for a moment and go around the table. I don’t think all of you have met my staff, and, other than Pipra, I don’t know your names.”

  They did the round-the-table thing. Kris found that three large corporations were represented by two men and a woman. Nuu Enterprises had three present, one of which admitted to having been recently acquired from one of the now-defunct businesses.

  Kris cut to the chase. “What can you do for us?”

  “We like that large crater in the northern area of the moon. It’s rich in iron and has water. If we land the fabrication plants there, we can produce iron and steel almost from day one. That’s a basic commodity often ignored by developed economies, but it’s a good one if you’re starting from scratch.”

  “As we are,” Kris said.

  “On the approach here, we spotted lithium and other rare earths for electronics, superconductors, and just about everything a modern economy needs. They are not concentrated, so we’ll likely have to send two or three different mining operations out to get them, and that means three different ships and reactors. That’s a problem we’ll be dropping in your lap.”

  “Sometimes I wish I had a bigger lap,” Kris said. “I’m told that there is one reactor ready to be dropped down to the colonials and go online immediately. There are two that will need some refurbishing that we will ship to the moon just as fast as the work can be done. The Navy yard is booked solid. Do you have any resources you could devote to the reactor project?”

  “Don’t you just love it when management plays volleyball,” one of the other managers drawled.

  “I’ll send out a call for help on that one,” Pipra said. “About the refurbishing process, does everything have to be built from scratch, or can we cannibalize the fourth reactor to get the other ones going?”

  “I promised the fourth to the colonials, but they may have to wait,” Kris admitted.

  “One of our batty ideas last night was to get cooperation from the natives. They seem to be taking a shine to our electric gadgets. Could we earn money by selling them windmills to charge them? Then use the money to hire them?”

  “The windmills are a good idea,” Kris said. “That would cut down on the demands being made on the colonial power supply. However, the Alwans don’t have any concept of money. We’d get goodwill and some IOUs of a vague sort.”

  “But if we got them planting extra food to pay us . . . ?” Pipra left hanging.

  “And as I understand,” one of the other managers said, “our Marines are going to be taking out a lot of their big carnivores. That should leave them with wild woods that have been off-limits to them but that they can farm their own way. Maybe not as efficient as our way, but any food helps.”

  The conversation went long and was surprisingly fruitful. Kris decided that even business folks, when faced with a “make it work or starve” situation, could do a good job of making it work.

  That left Kris and her abbreviated team making plans to drop down and see what a meeting with Ada might produce. The survey of the planet had turned up a copper mountain that would provide wiring, windings for electric engines, all kinds of nice stuff . . . if the locals didn’t mind it being strip-mined.

  Everywhere Kris turned there was more juggling.

  Then, just as Penny, Masao, and Amanda were about to leave, Professor Joao Labao walked in. “Do you have a minute? I have some things you may find interesting.”

  “By a minute, do you mean an hour or a half hour?” Kris asked.

  “Hour, maybe less.”

  “Staff, would you hang here for a few minutes? If he starts boring you, feel free to leave. If I fall asleep, you can definitely leave.”

  “What I have to tell you will definitely not put you to sleep.”

  33

  “We have results back from our study of the alien mother ship. Oh, and I think I can move more of my scientists dirtside. I understand you need the Smart Metal from our rooms and pubs. I have asked and eighty-five to ninety percent of my team have volunteered to transfer their work to colonial territory. We will need energy to power our analytical machines, as well as housing and food. If that can be assured, I think we can convert the large barn where they hold their annual harvest festival into the Alwa/Colonial Research Center.”

  “That’s gracious of you. Have you arranged any of this, or are you coming to me to see if I can make it happen?”

  The professor smiled so aristocratically at Kris. “Of course, Your Highness, we will need for the viceroy to make it happen.”

  Why do I bother asking dumb questions? Kris scolded herself.

  “I’ll add that to my other topics for tomorrow’s meeting with the colonials,” Kris said with as much of a smile as she could manage.

  NELLY, YOU CAN GET ME ON ADA’S SCHEDULE FOR TOMORROW, CAN’T YOU?

  I’M CALLING. SHE’S IN A MEETING RIGHT NOW AND IS IGNORING THE GENTLE REMINDER OF HER COMPUTER THAT SHE HAS A MESSAGE COMING IN. SHOULD I CHANGE THE SETTINGS ON HER COMPUTER TO BE MORE INSISTENT?

  NO, NELLY. WE’RE THEIR GUESTS, NOT THEIR OVERLORDS. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU GET A REPLY.

  “So, Professor, I thought you said you had information about the aliens and their base ships.”

  “Yes, we have examined their agricultural facilities, food having become suddenly of great importance to us.”

  “And?”

  “We have found where their dead go, I think. While much of the hydroponics gardens are part of their sewage and recycling system, there is a portion set apart. This also has that same pattern on its ceiling that we think is a star chart. While most of the ship is designed for humanity cheek to jaw, this area grows something like grain, as well as a vine that we analyzed and which produces a fruit easily converted to alcohol.”

  “Bread and wine,” Amanda said softly. “This is my body. This is my blood.”

  “Yes, several of the researchers of the Catholic perspective had the same observation. We think that cremains are sprinkled in this garden, and the fruit of these plants are special to them.”

  “So the bastards may have a soul,” Kris said.

  “I would have put it a bit more gently,” Penny said. “Still, it shows something that we have in common, some hope for an afterlife.”

  “Or rebirth,” the professor said.

  “Or they just want to remember their ancestors in some fashion but can’t devote much room to it,” Masao said.

  Kris noted how each of the humans had interpreted the alien behavior within the confines of their own culture and expectations. She sighed. The aliens were alien. That was the whole idea. Oh, and they want to kill us, no matter how much they remember grampa or gramma.

  “Anything on the technical side?” Kris asked. “What about the reactors that were removed or the lasers?”

  “Based on the power lead outs, we know they were using superconducting cables and that the reactors were large enough to power a large city. The leads into the laser bays that were also removed were the type we’d use for a 15- or 16-inch laser. Not having one to examine, I don’t know how focused the laser is, so I can only guess at range.”

  “From our experience, it seemed to be equal to our range and just as deadly,” Penny said.

  “I beg to differ,” the professor said. “We have reviewed the video of the battle. It is not very good, but it leaves us wondering about just how powerful their lasers were. They used a lot of them. No question about that, but regarding their range and power, gun for gun, we are not willing to give them equal power with us.”

  The professor paused and gave that shrug Kris had come to expect so often from the professional scientist. “We cannot be sure based on the data available, but we think the question of who has the most powerful lasers is still very much on the table.”

  “I’ll try to remember that next time I get in a shootout with o
ne of them,” Kris said.

  “If you could avoid blowing it to gas and bring something home to look at, it might be nice,” the scientist said.

  “That’s easier said than done,” Kris pointed out.

  There were other minor things the boffins were willing to estimate. The huge ship had a basic population of thirty to fifty billion people.

  This stopped Kris in her tracks. She’d felt guilty, thinking she’d slaughtered ten to fifteen billion. This left her stunned.

  Still, the professor went on. No, they had no idea how many might have survived Kris’s Hellburners. Half to two-thirds of the ship’s population might have died in either the actual explosions or the sudden opening of the ship to the void of space. It did not have a lot of internal, airtight bulkheads.

  Clearly, these folks intended to be the ones doing unto others, not having someone else doing unto them.

  The professor left, again reminding Kris that she needed to arrange for the landing of his boffins. Kris was left to wonder how fast a population that huge could adjust to the change humanity presented them with and what they might do to improve their prospects. Humanity had produced the Smart MetalTM frigates and put the 20-inch laser rifles into production.

  What did the bastards have in reserve?

  NELLY, HOW MUCH ROOM WOULD THIRTY BILLION PEOPLE TAKE UP?

  DO YOU MEAN STANDING BACK-TO-BACK, KRIS?

  NO, ASSUME THEY GET A SQUARE YARD PER PERSON. BACK ON WARDHAVEN, THE PUBLIC LAND SURVEY IS STILL LAID OUT IN SQUARE-MILE BLOCKS. SIXTY-FOUR SQUARE MILES TO A TOWNSHIP. HOW MANY TOWNSHIPS ARE WE TALKING ABOUT. A CONTINENT’S WORTH?

  THINK THREE MILLION PEOPLE TO A SQUARE MILE, KRIS. A ONE-HUNDRED-BY-ONE-HUNDRED-MILE SQUARE WOULD HOLD THIRTY BILLION.

  SO IT’S ACTUALLY SPACIOUS IN THEIR MOON-SIZE BASE.