Kris Longknife: Defender

by Mike Shepherd

  “Beside, some smart Sailor cracked the new code. If I keep increasing it, ma’am, I run the risk of getting close to the hull algorithm, and I don’t want that. I’ve got morale problems with the Sailors, chiefs, and officers. We’re trying to follow the regs, ma’am, but it’s not working. Now, I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I can order half the couples ashore permanently. I’d be grounding twenty, thirty percent of our crews.”

  “They sent us the younger officers and enlisted personnel, the ones with no attachments,” Kris supplied. “And now they’re forming attachments under the threat that any day could well be their last.”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that from my division heads and chiefs, ma’am.”

  “Has it caused trouble? Damaged unit cohesion?” Jack asked.

  “That’s what has surprised me,” Captain Kitano said. “There have been a few blowups, but not all that many. Where things went sour, I usually get a request from one or the other for a reassignment. So far, they’ve been few enough for us to handle, and they’ve had no impact on our battle efficiency. I don’t know how the folks back home would take to this, but here, just letting Sailors be boys and girls works best.”

  “We are here, and we do have an alien something nibbling at our perimeter, and everyone knows that any day they could be fighting for their lives,” Kris concluded. “Am I missing something, or are all hands handling themselves to meet their needs and the needs of the mission?”

  “I wouldn’t want to tell the king that, but yes, ma’am, it does look that way.”

  “Let me handle my grampa,” Kris said.

  “You don’t seem very surprised,” Captain Kitano said.

  “The Wasp has had the same pressures on its crew, and they’ve been in two fights to boot. Captain Drago here issued his own order violating Navy policy before we started home. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t dropped this in my lap.”

  “What do you plan to do, Commodore?” Captain Kitano asked.

  “When we dock, I’ll call the captains and key staff together and hash it out. If we can come to a unanimous consensus, I’ll go that way.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have too much of a problem,” Kitano said.

  “Kris,” Nelly said, “there’s a message coming in from the jump buoy at Jump Point Beta. Ships from the U.S. have jumped into a system three jumps out.”

  “Hmm,” Kris said, “Do we get our own consensus or wait for the new kids to arrive?”

  “I’m glad I don’t have your job,” three voices said in harmony.

  Half an hour later, Kris transferred her flag from the Wasp to the Princess Royal and headed for Alwa at 2.5 gees. That gave her time to get a report from her vice viceroy.

  Alwa was producing a lot more food . . . if you liked fish. The Alwans were bringing a lot of forest edibles to market and did like the electronic goods the moon base was starting to turn out. Also, that copper mountain was slowly dripping copper into the nonpolluting catch basins.

  There was grumbling from some of the old elders, but not from the new not-quite-so-elders stepping forward. They were more in step with the average Alwan on the path and only too aware the new humans were the only thing standing between them and the biggest “eats everything” they had ever dreamed of.

  Pipra reported to Kris in her day quarters on the Princess Royal as soon as she docked. Kris invited her to take a comfortable chair away from the table. “The fabricators are starting to produce parts for weapon-caliber lasers. The miners aren’t interested in being in unarmed ships when the aliens show up.” The asteroid mining was going as well as could be expected. “I could use more ships to bring rare earths and other metals down system.” Pipra was sure her techs would be excited to get their hands on the Hornet’s reactors.

  “So you found what you were looking for.” Pipra seemed quite surprised.

  “They were on an island and near death. We got there just in time. Now, how are we coming on making our own reactors and Smart Metal?”

  “We’re getting there. We’ve started a prototype reactor on the moon. Not much output yet, but it’s not breaking down, either. We’ve put out some Smart Metal. They’re using it for trucks dirtside, freeing up your metal to go back to the frigates. We’re having much better luck with aluminum and steel. We’re replacing the fishing fleet with them. Our main problem is getting enough rare earths to power things. We’ve got a solar-cell plant up, but without batteries, you can’t keep the ship out after dark. Same for trucks.”

  “Keep on it, then. How are your personnel holding up to being on the front line of humanity’s next fight with the alien bastards?”

  “I figured that would come next,” Pipra said, leaning back in her chair. “The three managers who tried to drink Canopus Station dry were cut off at the bar and sent dirtside. Two are working as farmhands. One disappeared into the forest. We’ve had a few suicides. Nothing above the average for folks in high-stress jobs. Since we started closing up the bars early, folks have been going home and finding their own comfort. Lots of marriages, handfastings, and civil unions for folks who don’t want a preacher involved. Not a few of our folks are bedding down with your Sailors, ma’am. I hope that isn’t a problem, Your Highness.”

  “That’s my next meeting. Any of your folks want to ship on with the Navy if some of our folks wanted to try their hand at your trades?”

  “Our skill sets are nowhere close, ma’am. We’re a pretty select set of specialists here. Retraining your folks to our jobs and our folks to yours would not be an efficient use of resources at this critical time. All of us heard about that buoy six systems out that went silent. We’re working twelve or more hours a day, six or seven days a week.”

  “Work hard. Play hard,” Kris said.

  “Yes, ma’am, and we treat them like adults. What they do on their own time, what they have of it, is their own business.”

  “My next meeting may see that applied to the fleet as well.”

  “Good. It’s about time if you don’t mind my saying so, that you uniform types treated grown-ups as grown-ups.”

  “You tend to your knitting and I’ll tend to mine,” Kris said, dismissing the future CEO before she decided to give Kris more advice she didn’t need.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pipra said, standing. “Glad to have you back. Looking forward to working with you. How soon do you think we have before the bastards attack?”

  “If I knew that, I’d be a lot more relaxed than I am,” Kris said as she ushered Pipra to the door.

  That left her with exactly three minutes before her meeting with the frigate skippers. That was scheduled for the wardroom. XOs, chief engineers, and skippers of the Marine detachments had been invited as well as command senior chiefs and Gunnies. Kris was none too sure how far she’d go with this consensus process, but she wanted all her ducks in a row, where she could knock them down with one stone if she had to.

  She got the “Atten-hut” and “As you were” over with as quickly as possible. Again, most of the audience were close to the coffee urns, so she took her stance beside it. She first announced that the crew of the Hornet had been found, starving and sick, but were on their way here. Those present cheered, only too aware that it could have been them, and they had a commander who would go the extra million light-years to find them.

  That done, Kris glanced at Captain Kitano, half expecting her to report the issue that was to be the main topic of this meeting, but Kitano didn’t respond to a glance. When Kris opened the floor up for any problems, the captains only eyed each other. Then Kris saw the reason.

  Lieutenant Commander Sampson, former skipper of the Constellation, had taken a seat at Kris’s far right, half looking at her, half eyeing the other skippers. When their eyes met, Sampson locked on her, a cruel twist to her lips. Was she daring Kris and the other skippers to step across the line,
to violate Navy regs?

  Kris had no intention of letting a failed skipper dictate policy to a Longknife.

  As she took a deep breath to start, the door opened, and Admiral Benson, ret., stepped inside. He quickly but quietly covered the distance to the chair next to Sampson and settled into it.

  The failed skipper did not look very happy to have her new supervisor seated at her elbow.

  Kris took another breath and began to lay the problem out in a methodical way. She explained that most of them had been chosen for this assignment so far from any other humans because of their lack of personal attachments. Few had left wives, husbands, or significant others on the other side of the galaxy. All hands needed to be able to make quick, emergency adjustments to Smart MetalTM. That also made it easy to acquire attachments, and the lack of shore facilities made it hard, if not impossible, for commanders to respond to violations of regulations. That, and the total lack of any replacements to take the place of anyone detached for punishment put leadership in a lose-lose situation.

  “So, what do we do?” Kris asked rhetorically.

  “You don’t violate Navy regs,” Sampson snapped.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander, but I’d like to hear from officers actually facing this leadership challenge.”

  “They should face it, but they’re not. They’re all in violation of Navy regs,” Sampson almost shouted, keeping the floor from any others.

  Since she insisted on doing all the talking, Kris decided to give her the floor.

  For a while.

  “And how would you propose solving this leadership challenge, miss.”

  Sampson cringed at Kris’s slap, addressed as one might a middy or boot ensign, but she charged ahead. “As I did with the Constellation. Open space barracks and bed checks.”

  “And we saw how well it worked for you,” Captain Kitano shot back. “Most of your crew wanted off your ship.”

  “Only because your love boats were out there for them to transfer to,” was her comeback.

  “May I remind everyone that we’re here to fight a pretty nasty set of aliens, not bicker like kids in the sandbox,” Kris pointed out.

  “But you’re all behaving like kids,” Sampson growled.

  “More like teenagers,” retired admiral, now yard supervisor Benson put in. “These young men and women have a tough job to do, a deadly fate looming in their future, and the need to work it out without the external discipline that usually goes with this job. It’s not a good place to be.”

  Sampson glared at her supervisor, who ignored her and gave Kris a placid look.

  Jack and four Marines marched through the door before Kris said another word. Jack glanced around, spotted Sampson, and marched for her. “As I understand it, you are not on the approved list for this meeting. Would you please come with me?”

  “I’m a serving officer in the U.S. Navy. I can go where I wish.”

  “This meeting is for skippers and their key staff,” Jack snapped. “You are not in any of those billets. Either come with me now, or I will have my Marines remove you to the brig.”

  Sputtering nasties under her breath that Kris was careful not to hear, Sampson went where Jack led. At the door, she whirled and pointed at the yard supervisor. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I invited him,” Kris said. With that, Jack half ushered, half shoved the red-faced officer out of the room. The last Marine out closed the door.

  Kris now turned to her officers. “Okay, let’s talk. Now that you’ve lived with the app that lets doors show up where we’ll never know, what problems have you identified, and what do you think we should do about them?”

  Kris heard no surprises. The list of problems was what you’d expect to hear when men and women worked hard in close proximity. Admiral Benson was kind enough to point out that he was facing them at the shipyard where most of his personnel were civilian and living under looser rules.

  Captain Kitano summed it up for all. “They’re grown-ups. They’re going to live or die because of what the Sailor or officer next to them does. They know it as well as we do. So, if they want to be treated as grown-ups, why shouldn’t we let them?”

  “There are reinforcements coming, only a few systems out,” Sims of the Constellation said. “Shouldn’t we wait for them to establish policy?”

  “We’ve been living with this for a lot longer than they have,” another skipper said. “Let’s do it and let them adjust to us. The more that show up, the more likely we are to get people like Sampson.”

  “Besides, the commodore didn’t wait to get any chops on her marriage request,” someone in the back tossed in. It sounded like an old chief.

  “Pipe down, or that Marine that frog-marched Sampson out of here may do you next,” an XO snapped.

  Kris frowned; was she losing control of the meeting?

  Kitano stood up. “Enough of that. Commodore Longknife had a narrow window when she could do what she wanted, and it wasn’t illegal. She grabbed it. I don’t know about you, but I like her style. She’s offering us a similar window. I say we take it.”

  The room seemed to mull that over for a few seconds, then sounds of agreement filled the wardroom.

  “If we’re going to suspend one set of Navy regs, we need to put something in its place,” Kris said. “I hate to do this, but I need a committee. Two or three skippers. Two from each of the rest of you: XOs, engineering, Marines. Chiefs. This policy will be yours to manage. I want the command senior chief and Gunny from each frigate working on this.”

  “I think we need two from Weapons and two from Deck Division,” Captain Kitano tossed in.

  “Okay,” Kris said. “I want names on my desk in an hour. I want a rough draft on my desk by 0800 tomorrow. If that means some folks miss a night’s sleep, so be it.”

  Kris walked out while the skippers were volunteering either themselves or someone of their teams.

  Jack was waiting for her outside.

  “Sorry about not being there immediately. Nelly called, and I came running as fast as I could grab four stray Marines.”

  “Nelly, thanks for the initiative, and Jack, thanks for the help. Where is our failed skipper?”

  “I had the Marines escort Sampson to the brig to cool off. Once we had her in the passageway, she blew up. She started shouting stuff that, if I’d heard it, might make me have to bring her up on charges for Unbecoming and Prejudicial.”

  “She did that to me last time we talked. Have a medical officer drop down to check her out in the brig. I have to wonder if something’s wrong with her.”

  “Besides being just plain wrongheaded?”

  “Yes.”

  Superintendent Benson slipped out of the meeting. “Sorry about that. Sampson got away from her desk when I wasn’t looking. I’d heard you were back and figured you’d be trying to solve this matter. As soon as I spotted her missing, I came.”

  “Thanks for the support. Tell me, in your previous incarnation as an admiral, and considering that an admiral might be included in the reinforcements headed our way, how would you take to what is going on here and what I’m doing?”

  Admiral Benson, ret., rolled his eyes at the overhead. “I’d probably have an epileptic fit, to tell you the truth. Sampson’s problem is that she’s old school, like I was. We don’t handle some leadership challenges very well.”

  “But you’ve got a similar situation at the yard.”

  “Yes, but as I keep reminding myself, I’m a civilian, and so are those working for me. None of us have to get a laser on target the first time, every time. Don’t get me wrong. I never faced any leadership challenge like you’re up against, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong. It’s just not something I would ever do.”

  He paused, then looked Kris hard in the eye. “That’s likely one of the reasons why King Ray chose you for com
mand here and not one of the more senior types around.”

  Which gave Kris pause. Had her Grampa Ray once more handpicked her for one of his worst messes?

  “Thank you, sir,” Kris said, “for your advice and guidance.”

  “It’s worth every penny you paid for it. Now, where’s my gal, and how much will it cost me to bail her out?”

  “She’s in the brig, Superintendent,” Kris said, “but I’d really like to have a medical officer look her over before we turn her loose. I’d hate to discover six weeks from now that she had a brain tumor, and we didn’t spot it after she acted up like that.”

  “A brain tumor would be easier to handle than her just being old-line,” the former admiral said as he headed down to the brig.

  “So, you got any more hand grenades to toss today, my lovely Viceroy and Sector Commander?” Jack asked.

  “Nope, I can’t think of a thing more to do. Oh, when’s the Wasp due in with our prize? Have we arranged for it to dock?”

  “I have arranged a dock for the Wasp,” Nelly said. “I’m assuming we’ll park the wreck in a trailing orbit fifty klicks behind the station.”

  “Another well done, Nelly. Gosh, Jack, what can we do with ourselves?”

  “How about me take you to dinner on the station?” Jack suggested. “It’s been a while since I had a date with my wife.”

  45

  Dinner with Jack was beyond nice. They were ushered to a quiet corner and left alone for the evening. The meal was unrecognizable, but Kris enjoyed what the chef had done with meat, roots, and sprouts that had never seen Earth’s sun. And there was a band.

  They danced to tunes from the present to long before humanity ventured from its home. “You know, we don’t have our song,” Jack said.