But that didn’t mean that Kris was content to be blind. She resorted to slower methods, sending spider crawlers out along the station power cables the Wasp was now hooked into. The reports would come back via those power lines, and when the spiders went active, they would be beside light fixtures. Whatever power usage the spider spy made would be impossible, hopefully, for the local folks’ countermeasures to notice.
It seemed to work.
Kris got some very good looks from the light fixtures at the top of the pier. Of course, all it showed was inebriated pirates making their way to and from different pubs or their ships.
Other than that, the stations seemed about as inactive as you could get . . . and still have air, water, and lights.
“Wonder if those autoguns are switched on, or if anyone is looking at their sensor take?” Jack asked as he looked over Kris’s shoulder at the feed Chief Beni was getting.
“I was wondering about that myself,” Kris said.
There were a whole lot more automatic machine guns sited around the station than Kris wanted her Marines facing. Jack passed The Word to the Marines’ heavy weapons teams to be ready to take down a lot of machine guns—fast.
Plans for the seizure of the station moved along quickly and smoothly after that.
Then . . . at exactly midnight . . . all Kris’s planning became irrelevant.
It seemed the pirates had other plans.
34
Kris was feeling pretty good as the Wasp’s clock struck eight bells for midnight. Chief Beni had sent a swarm of spider bugs out, inching their way along the power cables to nest in more light fixtures. Now she had one at each of her two prime targets. . . the command center of the station and the reactor.
Each showed four or five people standing their watch by playing cards.
In the process of locating those, Kris had also situated cameras so they could watch the piers where the three pirate ships were tied up.
She thought that was a good idea.
It turned out to be a very good idea.
Right around midnight, those cameras started showing a whole lot of irregular troops flooding out of the three ships. Most were armed with what they called cutlasses, which looked more like rough-forged machetes to Kris. Some of the few that might qualify as officers had pistols. Others wore black pants or shirts, leftovers from recently ended careers in Greenfeld State Security. Inevitably, those carried machine pistols.
“Oh my,” said Chief Beni.
“If I didn’t know better,” Kris said, “I’d say there is no honor among these thieves.”
“It does kind of look like they’re very intent on hacking out for themselves a share of the sudden wealth that’s come the way of the Bucket of Blood,” Colonel Cortez observed on net.
“I’m getting a sudden lack of electronic activity on the main deck of the station,” Chief Beni announced. “I think someone turned off the cameras and the autoguns.”
“It would be embarrassing to shoot up your new best friends while they were busy stealing from your former best friends,” Jack Campbell remarked from the Blood.
“And who would want to leave photo evidence for the boss to look at tomorrow of who stole what,” Penny said.
“Which may make it a whole lot easier for us to take the station down,” Jack Montoya added. “Assuming we can avoid getting our throats cut in the meantime.”
“Looks like we’ll be the first boat boarded,” Kris said, noting that the Wasp’s pier was closer to the flow of flashing and sharp metal. “Anyone have a suggestion as to how we handle this.”
“Ah,” came slowly from Campbell. “They were all laughing their fool heads off at the story of the Blood’s pirates chasing my panic party.”
“Do you think these could be distracted just as easily?” Kris asked.
“What do you say we try them?” came from Abby, coming on the Wasp’s bridge with an armful of calico and two standard Navy mops. “Penny, you want to do some panicking with Kris?”
“I’m sure not going to run around like some empty-headed female,” Sulwan announced.
“What about you, Abby?” Kris countered.
“You don’t pay me enough. Remember, it’s the Longknife legend that everyone is always talking about. Looks like it’s time for you to add a couple of more paragraphs.” So saying, Abby tossed Kris a simple cotton dress. Then she tossed another to Penny.
“Hold it,” Kris said, shaking out the latest in captive-crew fashions. “I never heard anything about Grampa Ray or Trouble saving the world in a dress.”
“I’m sure he paid well to have those particulars skipped by the writers of history books,” Abby drawled.
Penny slipped the dress on over her head, then modestly shimmied out of her shipsuit. “Hurry up, Princess. I’m not doing this alone,” the Navy lieutenant said.
“Whoever heard of a Longknife panicking,” Kris cried plaintively, but she was pulling the colorful dress over her head.
“The idea of a panic party is not to panic, just make the uninitiated observers think you are,” Jack said from the safety of his full Marine battle armor. He’d donned it an hour ago in preparation for the coming festivities.
Abby handed the two Navy officers their mops. “Go swab the deck, gals. Oh, and ditch the shoes. You’ll get better traction.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Penny shot back.
“You’ll never know how much,” Abby admitted.
Kris and Penny headed for the quarterdeck, Jack right behind them. “I’ve got your back,” he said.
“You better,” Kris growled.
Sergeant Bruce was leading the guard at the gangway. “It looks like we got company coming. What are your orders, sir?” he asked his captain.
“Back off and leave it to the ladies,” Jack said.
The sergeant frowned at the unexpected if not unheard-of command.
“Don’t worry, honey,” Abby put in, “I’m not one of the delectables we’ll be dangling in front of the pirates.” The maid, who was also a qualified sharpshooter, had her automatic out.
“Stay worried, Sergeant,” Kris said. “Penny and I will be the ones playing decoy.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say,” the poleaxed Marine said.
“Be careful, honey, or the princess will have you trading dresses with her,” Abby said, patting her Marine buddy on the shoulder.
The sergeant braced against the bulkhead to let Kris pass.
“Hurry up,” Nelly whispered. “The boarding party is getting mighty close.”
Someone had thoughtfully arranged for there to be a bucket of suds in the middle of the quarterdeck. Kris dunked her mop in and pulled it out dripping. In a second, she was sloshing soapy water this way and that.
“Be careful,” Penny said.
“Right. We wouldn’t want folks to be slipping and sliding, would we?” Kris said, through the first grin of the day.
“On second thought,” Penny said, and dunked her mop again.
Water and suds flew.
THE PIRATES ARE ON THE PIER STAIRS. BEND OVER MORE, Nelly said on net.
BEND OVER MORE? Kris asked.
YEAH, GIVE THE BOYS HALF A CHANCE, AND ALL THEY’LL BE LOOKING AT IS UP YOUR DRESS.
THERE’S NO THERE THERE, Kris pointed out.
BUT THEY DON’T KNOW IT. TRUST ME, MEN WILL ALWAYS BE HOPING FOR A GIRL TO SLIP.
Kris could almost hear the chuckling on command net as she and her computer debated her sexual wiles. HOW DID YOU SUDDENLY GET SO SMART ABOUT WHAT MEN LIKE IN THEIR WOMEN?
I READ A LOT, Nelly shot back.
Kris bent farther over her mop.
Nelly showed Kris a view of the pirates on the stairs. Yep, sure enough, a couple of the guys had spotted the two women swabbing the deck and were pointing them out to their associates. From the leers and ugly grins, Kris knew the two Navy officers were not being discussed in anything like a wholesome and proper manner.
ENJOY YOUR FUN, BOYS. I’LL B
E LAUGHING LAST, Kris said on net.
HOW LONG ARE WE GOING TO KEEP THIS UP? Penny asked.
JACK, YOU GOT YOUR MARINES WELL HIDDEN?
YES, KRIS, WE’RE OUT OF SIGHT.
LET’S KEEP WORKING IT, PENNY. I’D PREFER FOR THEM TO START THE SHOUTING FIRST.
NICE, KRIS, BUT DID THEY GET THE SCRIPT? FROM THE LOOKS OF THEM, I’M NOT SURE THEY COULD READ A SCRIPT IF THEY HAD ONE.
WAIT FOR IT, Kris said.
The pirates were gathering at the foot of the stairs, just out of sight of the gangway. A guy with a pistol was waving it around and whispering orders.
Some of the pirates actually looked like they were listening to him. Most wandered around like a bunch of college kids on Friday night looking for a party.
A final wave of the pistol was followed by a shout. Dozens of pirates raced or stumbled into view, waving their cutlasses.
Kris and Penny let out screams that didn’t have to be faked and galloped for the main outboard passageway. Kris was glad for Abby’s advice; the deck was slippery, and bare feet were the best way to go.
Nelly passed along the view from the quarterdeck camera, so Kris didn’t have to look over her shoulder. The pirates were not at all prepared for wet and slippery footing.
Two pirates slipped. As they went down, several more piled up on them. Waving cutlasses were suddenly hacking and slashing whoever got in their way.
The entire invasion of the Wasp might have ended there if the guy with the pistol hadn’t shouted, “Get those girls.”
Penny and Kris emphasized the order with fine girlish shrieks. The calico dress fit Penny fairly well. The one on Kris hardly got to her knees.
“Get the girls,” was taken up by the mob, and the pounding of booted feet told Kris even more than Nelly’s camera feed that she’d better run if she wanted to keep living.
The main outboard passageway ran in a circle around the waist of the Wasp. Kris was careful to keep in sight of the leaders of the chase but made sure to let them get no closer.
The quarterdeck was on the starboard side. Opposite on the port side was a stairwell Kris intended to lead them up.
As befitting the Wasp’s conversion to a warship, the angle of the stairs was now much closer to a steep Navy ladder. With any luck, she’d put that to good use.
Kris checked the camera take from the quarterdeck and passageway. The Marines had started taking down the pirates from the rear without disturbing those in the lead. One of the advantages of the circular passageway was that the leaders were indeed staying ignorant of what was going on behind them.
Kris was now ready to bring the leaders up to date.
“Up the ladder,” Kris shouted, both for Penny’s information . . . and the pursuing pirates.
Up the ladder Penny went, followed close by Kris. Once out of sight from below, Kris grabbed Penny’s elbow. “I’ve had enough of this running.”
“I was wondering when you would,” Penny said.
“Ready your mop,” Kris ordered, leveling hers like a pike of old, wet end out.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Penny asked, a bit unsure of the concept. Still, she followed Kris’s lead.
“Go for the lead guy on the right,” Kris ordered. “I’ll take the left.”
Two pirates, cutlasses waving, poked their heads over the lip of the ladder. They were not expecting opposition.
Kris’s wet mop hit her guy right in the face. “You really need to brush your teeth,” she said as she did just that with the swab.
“You, too,” Penny cried, and twisted her mop in the other guy’s face.
Off-balance . . . and outmaneuvered . . . the two of them fell back into the unprepared arms of their copillagers. One got skewered by a cutlass, the other rolled downhill into a ball with way too many arms and legs.
“I’ll kill you for that,” would have sounded much more threatening from the guy with the pistol if he hadn’t gulped halfway through the threat at the sight of Kris and Penny standing at the top of the stairs . . . both with their service automatics pointed right between his eyes.
A second later, the soft pop of sleepy darts put an end to further conversation as the half dozen boarders who had made it that far fell under the gentle arms of Marine sharpshooters.
Kris holstered her automatic, pulled her worn cotton dress down to at least cover her knees, and became the commander of Patrol Squadron 10 again.
“Captain, do we have control of this ship?” she asked Jack.
“All members of the boarding party are captured and accounted for, ma’am. Docs are taking care of several red-on-red casualties, and one big fellow whose heart isn’t taking too well to Colt-Pfizer’s best sleepy darts. People with bad hearts really should not play pirates.”
“Somehow I doubt he’ll learn from this experience. What’s the situation on the other ships?” Kris asked on net.
“The Bucket of Blood is once again ours,” Lieutenant Commander Campbell reported.
“The Dauntless has most of her boarding party down and sleeping,” Lieutenant Amber Kitano reported. “A half dozen managed to lock themselves in the wardroom. We are debating letting them stay in there until the food kills them.”
“Oh, the slings and arrows of a subordinate with a sense of humor,” Campbell complained.
“The Dauntless’s Marines are ready to move out on your orders, Your Highness.” Lieutenant Kitano cut to the chase. “Where away?”
35
Kris surveyed the wreckage before her, then had Nelly scroll through the take from critical observation points on the station. The watch standers at the command post and the reactor were still lost in their card game. Except for the spaces around the grog shops, the station was pretty much asleep.
“Greenfeld Marines, will you secure the prisoners now on our ships and stand in reserve?”
“Yes, ma’am,” came back with only a hint of disappointment.
“Wardhaven Marines. Each company will send two squads to secure the three ships presently docked at the station. Take along a team of Navy types to set up a port watch on the captured ships. Go for the ship nearest you. Wasp, you take down the freighter. It’s farthest away from all of us.”
That drew the expected, “Aye aye, ma’am.”
“Dauntless, your Marines will seize the reactor. Put together a team from your engineering department to take over the watch there.”
“Standing by,” Lieutenant Kitano replied.
“Wasp will follow me to the command post. Captain Montoya and I know space stations well.”
“Defending or attacking?” Commander Campbell asked.
“Both,” Jack supplied.
“Okay, Campbell, for that you get the grog shops. Them and the sleeping quarters. Secure them and see that we don’t have any trouble from that direction.”
“I think I can handle a few drunken sailors,” the temporary skipper of the Bucket of Blood assured Kris.
“One suggestion before we move out,” said Kris. “We can’t go parading around this station looking like a bunch of squared-away Marines. The neighbors will talk.”
Jack glanced around at his company and gave Kris a rather nonplussed look.
Kris went on. “I want everyone to strip as much of the outer clothing as you can off the sleeping pirates and put it on over your Marine battle rattle.” The armor had the ability to change its coloring to match most any background. The designers had never imagined a pirate station.
“Grab any civilian clothing. It doesn’t have to fit well, just enough to fool someone glancing at the monitors while contemplating whether or not to bet on an inside straight.”
“And you will get in some armor yourself, Your High-Handedness,” Abby insisted, pulling Kris into a side compartment, where she had full battle dress waiting for Penny, Kris, and herself.
“You sure you aren’t a mind reader?” Kris said, getting busy putting on her play clothes for the next funnest thing in her life.
�
�Great minds think in the same gutters,” the maid insisted. “I knew you’d lead the panic party. It was easy to gauge where you’d lead it to. The Wasp doesn’t offer a lot of options.”
Penny shook her head. “I say she either reads minds or is a witch.”
“You calling me a bitch?”
“Witch. Witch!”
“Which one?” Abby demanded.
“Get dressed, girls. The target is thataway,” Kris said, swinging a thumb over her shoulder toward the station. “If we’re going to kill someone tonight, let’s make it count.”
“No one ever died of a good pun,” Abby insisted, turning her back on Kris so her princess could finish lashing up the back of her armor. Since Abby was doing up Penny, and Penny was taking care of Kris, it served to keep their hands busy and . . . for the moment . . . their mouths closed.
A minute later, the three turned around in unison so they could give each other’s fronts a final check.
“Okay, girls, let’s go kick some pirate butt,” Penny said. They managed a three-way high five, which took all six hands, and headed out, grinning from ear to ear.
“You all having fun?” Jack asked.
“Yes, we are. Everyone ready to ride?” Kris answered.
“On your orders,” Jack replied.
“Let’s see. I can’t go prancing across a pirate port looking like an armored princess,” Kris said. “Oh, and I need booty. Plenty of booty.”
“Yes,” said Abby and Penny.
“Jack, I want that guy’s hat,” Kris said, pointing at the fallen boss pirate fellow who was snoring softly at Jack’s feet. “And that cute vest and those pants, too. Roll him out of them.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” said Jack, none too sure of the premise.
“Come on, Jack. A ragtag mess charged onto this boat. We need a ragtag mess prancing out of it.”
“Carrying plenty of loot,” Penny said. “I’ve got just the thing. A batch of cosmetics I ordered a month ago came in this really cute-looking cask. Perfect for jewels and diamonds and pieces of eight.” In a flash, the lieutenant was off.
Kris Longknife: Redoubtable Page 27
