Kris Longknife: Redoubtable

by Mike Shepherd

23

  Kris took a deep breath as she slowly reached for the door handle. Her automatic was in the other hand, pointed out, though not at anyone in particular.

  She let the breath out slowly as the door creaked open. Kris did everything slowly as she tried to let her stomach . . . and her trigger finger . . . catch up. She’d been alert but confident, then suddenly switched to ready for deadly action. Now there was a guy standing there as casual as could be asking for a few words with Kris as nonchalantly as some girls asked for her autograph.

  Kris’s neck was definitely putting in for whiplash compensation.

  “Since you know my name, would you mind telling me yours?” Kris said as she put one foot on the pavement.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I’m Manuel Artamus. My friends call me Mannie. I’m the mayor of Sevastopol. At least that’s what they’ve been calling me since all hell broke out a few months ago.”

  “I think I’m glad to meet you,” Kris said, stepping away from the truck.

  “Good,” Mannie said, then raised his voice just a bit. “Guys, gals, let’s put the guns away. It would be a shame for us to have an accident when things are going so well. Grandmama, you can go home now. I’ll have Danny take you and Aunt Reina back to your place. As you can see, things are going fine.”

  “You be careful,” said the older of the two women Kris hadn’t let Jack run over. “She’s a Longknife, and you know you can’t trust them.”

  “Danny, please,” said Mannie.

  The passenger door opened in the car that had closed in their back, and a young man hurried over to help the two gray-haired ladies into the backseat of their ride.

  “Guys, move the van. You’re losing me votes blocking rush-hour traffic,” Mannie said, and the van with the three gunners drove through the now-green light and pulled into Momma’s Diner across the intersection.

  “Would you mind moving your truck to Momma’s?” Mannie asked Jack.

  The Marine officer looked daggers at Kris, but she waved him on, and he went.

  Mannie walked up to Kris and offered her a hand. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to genuflect or kiss your ring. I hope this will do.”

  “I’m happy with any greeting that doesn’t involve small-arms fire or high explosives,” Kris said, giving and receiving a firm handshake.

  Mannie casually pointed the way across the street. “Momma’s has some of the best coffee in Sevastopol. And her pies are something you just have to taste before you leave town. Fresh organic apples. Real butter. Honest to God honey. None of that fake sugar that you can never tell where it came from.”

  He opened the diner’s door for Kris. If the food was half as good as the smell, he had not oversold the place. It was about half-full.

  Jack, Abby, Doc Maggie, and Chief Beni occupied a round table down the left-hand side of the diner. Kris’s four Marines were at the next table up against the wall behind Jack. Mannie’s henchmen held down two tables behind a pair of vacant seats at Jack’s table.

  No hardware was in sight. The people filling up the right-hand side of the diner went about their morning business.

  “Well, don’t just stand there letting the flies in, Mannie. Sit a spell and take the weight off your feet,” a cheerful waitress of middle years yelled from where she was filling a coffeepot from a device that looked like only a rocket scientist could build it . . . or operate it.

  Mannie waved back and led Kris to the vacant chairs at her people’s table. He held Kris’s chair for her while she sat, then held up two fingers. “Two more for this table, Kelly.”

  “On their way,” the waitress shouted back.

  “You come here often?” Kris said.

  “It’s a good place for a morning staff meeting,” he said, settling into his seat.

  Kris waited for the coffee to arrive, pie orders placed, and the waitress to withdraw before she said, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

  Mannie folded his hands on the table and stared Kris straight in the eyes. “I understand this morning that you’re serving Miss Victoria Smythe-Peterwald as a kind of ambassador with limited portfolio.”

  “I hadn’t thought of my job quite in that light,” Kris said, “but I can see where it kind of has that appearance.”

  He nodded at Doc Maggie. “I have no problem with your contacting Dr. Rodriguez and offering her a job. I think we will all benefit from a Peterwald having an advisor who isn’t a bloodthirsty psycho.”

  “I’m glad we can see eye to eye on that,” Kris agreed.

  “I have to admit,” Mannie went on, “that your coming down here all hush-hush to contact the doctor rather than Victoria just calling her and buying her a ticket on the next shuttle up gives me a bad feeling about the way the Peterwalds are running this railroad. Bad feelings.”

  Coffee arrived, and Mannie took the time to add milk and sugar to his mug. Kris sipped hers black.

  It was quite good.

  “I could be down here for other reasons and just dropped by the hospital for Doc Maggie because I was in the vicinity.”

  Mannie tasted his coffee, made a happy face, and put it down. “Yes, there is the other matter of your mission down here. That bothers me a lot more than losing the services of a very good and dedicated emergency-services doctor. We need to talk about that, but first, I really wish you would place a call to Victoria Peterwald and see if we can set up a meeting with her.”

  “A meeting,” Kris said cautiously. “For what reason?”

  “That’s kind of hard to put into words. Not that I don’t know what I hope to come of the meeting, it’s just what I’m hoping for is kind of old-fashioned.”

  “Try me,” Kris said.

  “We’d like the king to grant our city a charter.”

  “A king’s charter,” Kris said. “You do know that Greenfeld doesn’t have a king.”

  “Yes, I know. We seem to be stuck with all the worst aspects of a tyrant without any of the upsides of nobility. You certainly understand the limits of noblesse oblige.”

  “It’s yanked her chain a few times,” Jack said.

  “Then you understand our problem here. We in Greenfeld have the most exquisite constitution in human history. The only problem with it, if it can be allowed to be called a problem, is that nobody ever uses it. It’s a magnificent wall decoration somewhere in the capital. But it’s never allowed to complicate the matters of daily business. You understand?”

  “I don’t imagine you’ve had this conversation with anyone from State Security,” Abby said. “I see that you still have all your fingernails.”

  Mannie held up his hands, displayed hands unmarred and fit for a concert pianist. “Yes, silence is often the better part of valor. However, you may have notice that Greenfeld State Security is recently conspicuous by its absence.”

  “It didn’t make it any easier for us to sneak into town,” Jack pointed out. “Have you taken over the snitch concession?”

  “Our Baker Street Irregulars,” Mannie said with a laugh. “No, no. You misunderstand them. Those kids and old folks who helped us track you in weren’t snitching for the black shirts. Well, not unless we wanted them to,” Mannie said, making a face.

  “No, they were our snitches tailing the black shirts. It got to where one of them could hardly move without us knowing where they were going and what they were up to.”

  Mannie laid a commlink on the table. “We manufacture these here in Sevastopol. They’ve got extra bandwidth just so we can send and track the black shirts. We had them on a tight leash before the Peterwalds ever decided to hang them by their collars.”

  Kris nodded slowly at the admissions. “Vicky told me that you were in touch with the black market and able to do a deal with them to keep the city going when the, ah, black shirts beat it out of town. It sounds like there was a lot more to Sevastopol’s underground than just smugglers bringing in a bit of mall glitter.”

  Mannie grinned. “St. Petersburg was where the hea
vy industry was. It was where most of the money was. So long as we paid our taxes and didn’t kill anyone, we were left on our own. That city charter I mentioned. All we want to do is make it official and get something on paper with a Peterwald’s signature. Really, nothing more.”

  “You realize,” Abby said, “you’re running the serious risk of being noticed. Why not just keep things the way they are? They keep on looking the other way, and you keep on doing what you want?”

  “Because things are changing, and who says they’ll ever be the same again,” Mannie said. “Look at it from my perspective. Things could go back to the way they were. Things could get a whole lot worse.” He held up both hands. “Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but it could. Whether Peterwald keeps on top of the dog pile or doesn’t, we could wind up with some two-bit tin god of a warlord keeping one finger in everyone’s soup and the other in everyone’s eye. I’d like to offer Miss Victoria another option, one I’m not sure they ever thought of. Let the locals look after themselves. We won’t do anything to bother her and her old man at the planetary or Alliance level. They don’t appoint anyone to muck around in our life.”

  “And my place in this?” Kris said.

  “Whether you regret it or not, you saved Henry’s neck once. You do seem to be some kind of friend to Miss Victoria. You could put in a good word for my side, and it might be listened to. Your signature on the document might make it harder to disappear it. You game?” Mannie said, raising two expressive eyebrows.

  “It’s worth a try, but we still haven’t talked about what brought me down here. Let me call Vicky, then we have to talk.”

  “It’s a deal,” Mannie said.

  “Nelly, get me Vicky.”

  “Kris, she’s in the Forward Lounge, so this call should be safe on that side. There are a whole lot of electronic devices on this end.”

  “Could we jam them?” Kris asked.

  Mannie looked around the diner. “It would piss off a lot of folks who are just going about their morning business. And probably lose me a couple of votes, too. Do you really think it’s necessary?”

  “My dear old dad taught me never to do something that cost a hardworking politician any votes. Especially him. Now Jack here, my security boss, is having a hissy fit, but if he doesn’t have at least one a day, he gets hemorrhoids.”

  Jack set a new record for scowl . . . but said nothing.

  “Hi, Kris, how’s it going?” said Vicky in a way-too-chipper tone of voice.

  “Not nearly as well as I’d been hoping it would,” Kris answered.

  “But things always go so well for you,” Vicky said, failing totally to make her voice sound believable.

  “You keep this up, and you better be careful of what I wish for,” Kris said. “How about you coming down here and seeing what my day is like?”

  “Is there a real problem? Can’t you find Maggie?” Vicky sounded seriously concerned now.

  “Maggie is sitting across the table from me. She’s fine and heading up to the station just as fast as I can take her.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” had serious relief in it. “So what seems to be the problem?”

  Kris waved at Nelly at her neck, then waved at Mannie to take over from here.

  He gave Kris a three-finger wave off. Please, you do this for me was all over his face.

  Kris sighed and went on. “I’m talking to Mannie Artamus, one of the nicest guys you’ve never met. You remember him, the city manager of Sevastopol?”

  “I’ve heard of him,” was rather hard-bitten.

  “He would really like to talk to you,” Kris said.

  “Is he holding you hostage?” Vicky snapped. “You and Maggie?”

  “No,” Mannie said, half-out of his seat. “Nobody is holding anyone hostage. No hostages here,” he insisted, as Kris waved him back to his chair.

  “Vicky, you know me,” Kris cut in. “Nobody takes me hostage. God help any kidnapper who falls into my hands. No, I’m having coffee and waiting for a delicious slice of pie. You understand. I’m talking with a man who needs something from me and who I need something from myself. Force is not an issue on this table.”

  Jack didn’t look all that assured at Kris’s words, but he said nothing.

  “What’s Mr. Artamus want?” Vicky said guardedly.

  “Your and my signatures on a city charter.”

  “What’s a city charter?” Vicky asked.

  That question told Kris all she needed to know about life in the Greenfeld Alliance. “Something cities used to have a couple of hundred years ago,” Kris said, waving Mannie to silence. “It outlined their duties and responsibilities to the king and his duties toward them.”

  “My dad is not a king,” Vicky snapped. “Though, if the rumors coming out of the Palace are right, there are a couple of factions trying to talk him into naming himself emperor.” From the tone of her voice, Kris couldn’t tell how much that made Vicky’s bunny jump . . . if any.

  “What would that make you, a grand duchess?”

  “What it would do is give me a headache. How’s the princess gig going for you?”

  “Some days better than others. Listen, Vicky, I’ve been talking to this fellow, Mannie. He recognizes that things are changing. All he wants is to provide a minimum level of protection for the people he works for. They absolutely will stay out of your business. They will pay their taxes and live their lives. If this charter works for them, maybe a lot of other large cities will be offering to do the same thing. It’s not a bad place to start rebuilding the Greenfeld Alliance.”

  “I’ll have to think about that. He wants me to come down. How big an honor guard should I bring?”

  “A whole lot less than an invasion force,” Kris suggested.

  “Your Jack willing to vouch for my safety?”

  “Sorry. No can do,” Jack said, leaning forward in his chair to make sure his voice carried. “Keeping one obstreperous and cantankerous princess safe is about as far as I can stretch.”

  “I’ll talk to Admiral Krätz about setting up a detail. I take it would be in bad taste for me to send a shuttle down right now for just Maggie.”

  “Yes,” Doc Maggie said, “I really think I should stay here and do anything I can to help things come out well for everyone here. They’ve been nice to a woman who had nothing but her own two hands when she first came among them.”

  “Why did I know you would say that?” Vicky answered. “I better go see my admiral and let you get on to what matters to you, Kris. Good luck. Hold it, your Captain Drago just walked in, and from the look on his face, I would not want to be one of his crew.”

  “Your Highness, is that you on the other end of the line?” Drago asked.

  “The one and only,” Kris said, tightening her gut for what was bound to be something bad.

  “Did little Cara manage somehow to attach herself to your expedition?”

  “No,” Kris said, looking around at the shaking heads of her Marines.

  “What’s that little scamp got herself into?” Abby asked of her niece.

  “That’s what we don’t know,” the captain said, pain in his voice. “She didn’t show up to plague the cook for the cookies he’d said he might make. She also hasn’t been hanging with any among the boffins or crew. Nobody has seen her since you left.”

  “Nelly, what’s Dada say?” Kris said, naming Cara’s computer.

  “Nothing. She was turned off shortly after we left the ship. Cara’s been doing that occasionally. A bad habit she’s picked up from her aunt,” Nelly said, dripping disapproval.

  “Where could she go?” Kris asked.

  “Her credit chit is gone, too,” Captain Drago added.

  “If she’s slipped out to go shopping on the station, I’m going to tan her hide,” Abby snapped.

  “She’s been complaining to anyone listening that she’s got money but no place to spend it,” Kris said, remembering how, at twelve, it took very little money to burn a hole in her pocket
.

  “You think she’s slipped out of the ship and onto the station?” Vicky asked.

  “The quarterdeck watch swears they haven’t seen her,” Captain Drago said.

  Gunny Brown shook his head with fatherly disapproval. Or maybe it was approval. “Any too-smart-for-his-britches private can figure a way off the ship. I just thought a twelve-year-old girl might not be that smart.”

  “Even one who has everyone on board wrapped around her little finger?” Kris said. “Captain, you check with the crew. See if she was around when any of them were dealing with a creative way pierside. Vicky, would you ask Admiral Krätz, as a personal favor to me, to turn the station upside down? And tell him he’s free to apply any kind of discipline to Cara before he returns her to us that his years of experience as the father of girls or the commander of sailors might suggest to him.”

  “You really want me to?” Vicky sounded shocked.

  Kris eyed Abby. “Better him than me,” the aunt said.

  “Tell him he has the full authorization and permission of all due Wardhaven authorities.

  “May God have mercy on her soul,” Vicky breathed, and cut the link.

  Kris leaned back in her seat and let out a long sigh. She tried to remember how many problems she’d had to chase down and whack over the head so far today . . . and she still hadn’t gotten to the main reason she’d come dirtside.

  “Would you prefer to go back to your ship?” Mannie asked. “I’d promised my people that I’d keep you down here until Miss Victoria paid us a visit.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and silently mouthed “hostage.”

  “Well, no, and I guess a little yes,” Mannie agreed. “Anyway, if this little girl’s problem means you need to get back there . . . ?” He left the rest unsaid.

  “The best people to handle the search are up there,” Kris said with a sigh.

  “And that imp had better have come down with a serious case of contrite before I lay eyes on her again,” Abby put in.

  “And I have a problem, Mannie,” Kris said. “One that I’m not sure that you aren’t causing.”

  “I certainly hope I’m not at the root of any problem for you,” Mannie said. “I have a strong suspicion that is not a very good place to be.”