This time, Ruth sat back and Trouble leaned forward. “The Iteeche respect generals. That’s one of the reasons why Ray had to personally negotiate the Treaty of the Orange Nebula with me at his elbow. That’s why, except for Ron’s dad, everyone on the other side of the table were either Navy grey and golds or Army red and blacks. But I’m not asking to come with you as a general or a vet or any of those other jobs. I want to be Ruth and Johnny’s grampa.”
“You two are going to be busy out of your mind,” Ruth put in. “We remember what it was like. We left our kids back in the rear areas. We and Ray and Rita. We all know how well that worked out with Al. Alnaba won’t get within a quarter of the galaxy of her dad, Ray. We lost Sarah, but were lucky enough to have had a second chance at being parents. Please let us stand in for you two while you are doing everything you have to do to make this happen between us and the Iteeche.”
“We’re not asking for a job,” the old general said earnestly. “We don’t want to be included in your council of war. Let us be the anchor that helps Ruth and John stay close to you.”
“I, ah, I wasn’t expecting this,” Kris admitted.
“Honey, you’re Trouble once again,” Gramma Ruth said, swatting at her husband.
“Give us a few days to think this over,” Kris said. At the moment, she was ready to jump on it. Of late, she’d learned to spend more time looking at things that looked like a good idea at the time.
Chapter 13
Four weeks later, Kris was ready to officially surrender her battlecruisers to Admiral Kitano. She set the date for the change of command ceremony, expecting it to be a small thing in her own office.
Then Mac got involved.
“You can’t slip away without us having a chance to say a few words and cut a cake. Even a damn Longknife has to put up with a little bit of ceremony.”
Kris could guess how much she would not enjoy all that pomp and ceremony, but she agreed and let Mac set the date. Three days later, Alice led the two admirals to the elevator and then down a hallway Kris had never used in her five years at Main Navy. She found herself coming out in something that looked like the backstage of a theater.
“What?” she said, but Kitano and Alice wouldn’t let her duck back to check the number on the door again. Instead, they shouldered her forward . . . and out on a stage.
THIS IS THE MAIN AUDITORIUM FOR THE NAVY DEPARTMENT Nelly informed Kris.
A thunderous applause began; Kris found herself facing a full house. The admirals who had been her nemesis for five years had front row seats.
Next to them were four charge of missions that Kris had been saddled with, all decked out in full diplomatic uniforms. There was a fifth, but the Musashi representative had not yet arrived. Kris had no idea who would be named to represent Yamato, Musashi, Nippon and several other associated planets.
Of those present, Greenfelds diplomat was in green, of course, and dripping with more gold than Kris thought you could get on a frock coat. Not to be outdone, the United Society’s woman wore a uniform not unlike Kris’s, though in a lighter shade of blue but with as much gold braid as the Greenfeld diplomatic uniform. The male ambassador from the Helvetican Confederacy wore such severe black as to almost become a shadow, although the cape over his shoulders showed a bright burgundy lining. With him was a strikingly beautiful woman in white, hair included. Their exact relationship had not been clarified, but the growing suspicion was that the mission was split between them. Next to them was the woman representing the Federation of Free Planets from the other side of human space. Actually, she was their ambassador to Wardhaven who had been quickly dragooned into representing them on this mission as well as several other associations from the other side of human space. She sported a floor length white silk dress with a short fire engine red jacket half covered in swirling patterns of gold.
Kris suspected that her own dress blues or whites would leave her the ugly duckling among these diplomatic peacocks. Cripes.
But she had little time for gawking. Field Marshall Mac was already at the podium; he rapped on the mic for quiet and quickly got it.
“I know you all can’t wait to see this woman in your rear-view mirror, but we’ve got to put up with her today. Admiral Kitano, will you please read your orders.”
Kitano quickly read the very formal and very short order giving her command of Battlecruiser Force. She then turned smartly to Kris and said.
“I relieve you, Admiral.”
Kris returned the salute and answered, “I stand relieved,” and with those few words, the burdens Kris had borne for the last five years passed from her shoulder to Amber’s.
“Good luck,” she couldn’t help but whisper through an appropriate smile as the auditorium filled with applause again.
“I’ll need it, from what I’ve seen,” Amber answered through her own plastered on smile.
When the applause began to peter out, Mac again rapped the mic. “Our Kris will be getting her own marching orders from King Raymond later in the week, but we all know that she’s going from fighting tooth and nail for every thin dime she can get out of the rest of you to making nice with the Iteeche Emperor and his court.”
“Assuming she can make nice with anyone,” came from somewhere among the gathered admirals, and drew more of a laugh than Kris thought it deserved.
“Well, Admiral, are there a few words you’d like to say?”
Kris considered Mac’s offer, and knew she had to say something. She had quite a few choice words she’d love to say, but this emissary gig was only for five years and she might have to work with this gang again. This was no day to burn bridges.
She stepped to the podium and cleared her throat. “It’s been an unusual pleasure to work with all of you these last five years.”
“I didn’t know she was into whips and chains,” was in a stage whisper that filled the entire auditorium. The chuckle this time was more nervous.
“I asked for this desk job, and all of you have done a thorough job of educating me as to why everyone wants ship duty.”
That got a roar. Even Mac couldn’t resist a guffaw.
“I’m looking forward to my next job. Although it doesn’t involve ship duty, if I am able to do what I intend to, all of human space will be safer. If alien base ships ever appear in our skies, we will not have to worry about the Iteeche starting a war of their own. I hope that we will conclude a treaty that means the Iteeche will fight with us and we fight with them.”
The house got serious at that. Kris turned to leave the podium, but Mac was blocking her path. He moved back to the podium, but kept a firm hold on Kris’s elbow.
“Normally, what we’ll be doing here today is done in King Raymond’s throne room. For all the heartburn I’ve put up with from Her Royal Highness, Admiral Kris Longknife, the king has granted me this opportunity. It’s preliminary. The formal dog and pony show will take place when she gets her ambassadorial papers, but I figured you Navy types would want to have a hand in this.”
“A hand in what?” Kris whispered.
Mac just beamed across the stage. Megan was marching forward, a long box held in both hands. It was too small to be a dozen long stem roses. It was also made of a very fine wood Kris realized.
Kris eyed Kitano and then Megan. Kitano just beamed; Megan’s face was as straight and unrevealing as a slab of white marble.
Megan crossed the stage, squared her corner and marched up to Field Marshall MacMorrison. She held the box of rich dark wood and light leather out to him. The earthy scent of the two wafted around Kris, teasing her.
Mac turned to Kris. “Since the day I called Ensign Kris Longknife in for one of those Friday afternoon talks, you’ve been a pain in my ass. I had your resignation papers all filled out, just waiting for your signature, but you marched out of my office promoted to Lieutenant, j.g. and wearing my old shoulder boards. How I rue that day,” he said, but he was smiling as he said it.
There were chuckles from the rows of Navy
officers seated down front.
“You’ve tackled one problem after another. Each one worse than the last. Each one more and more critical to our survival as a planet, a union and finally all of us humans lumped in together.
“And all the time, you’ve been a pain in my butt.”
“I try to please, sir,” Kris offered into the pause.
“Damn, but you have. So now you are tackling the toughest job we humans have ever had dumped in our lap. Your great-grandfather fought the Iteeche to a standstill. Now it’s your job to find a way to bring a lasting peace between us and their Empire.”
Kris swallowed hard and nodded. That about summed up what she was headed out to do.
“Well, we can’t send you out to the Iteeche risking that one of them might outrank you. So, it is with great pride in our mutual survival that I present you with this small token of my appreciation.”
Megan opened the lid of the box. Kris found herself watching as Field Marshall MacMorrisson lifted a short, ornate to the point of baroque, staff. He hefted it; it looked heavy.
Kris knew just how heavy it was. Its weight wasn’t just in kilograms. No, the burden of centuries of history filled with duty and honor were on that staff.
Kris recognized it the moment Megan lifted the lid of the wooden box. A Grand Admiral’s baton.
Mac lifted the baton with both hands, but when he offered it to Kris, she took it up with her right hand alone. If she couldn’t handle it singlehandedly, she didn’t deserve it.
The crown on top was fashioned in gold, as were the bands down the long handle. The rod itself Kris had taken for polished steel. Now she saw that the whole of it was silver, much of it worked to show ships in battle. Lurking in the background were big blobs that, no doubt, represented alien raider mother ships. The mother ships were not to scale, otherwise the baton would have been huge.
As the room broke out in applause, Kris raised the baton to them in salute. She kept it high until the clapping petered out.
“I hope this honor also includes a lighter walking out baton, or this will never get off my ‘I Love Me’ shelf.” Kris whispered to Mac when she turned to him.
“One has already been delivered to your office. It will be waiting for you when you get back.”
“Thanks,”
Stepping up to the mic, Mac said, “Have you any words to share with us, Grand Admiral?”
Kris knew she’d said about all she dared say, and what she said before had been carefully thought out. She had nothing more to add, even with this ton of approval she was holding.
But she stepped up to the mic.
“I am very honored. If you have a chance to look down front, you will see the representatives of several planets and associations who have sent senior diplomats to accompany me. They are dressed in the official uniform of their offices and they do look very impressive. I was starting to fear that my Navy uniform might leave me the wren among swans.”
Kris hefted the baton again. “I expect that I can impress even an Iteeche Emperor with this. If not, I’ll beat some sense into him.”
“Oh, God. We’re in trouble when she gets back,” came from some joker among the admirals. Kris just gave them all a toothy grin.
“I thank all of you who have helped me earn this,” Kris said and turned to go.
A reception had been laid on in the large conference room across from the auditorium’s entrance. Having to come from the front stage, Kris got there after a good half had already drawn a cup of weak punch and a slice of cheap cake.
Kris didn’t complain. She’d grabbed every penny she could find for her beloved battlecruisers. A little payback seemed acceptable.
She had been trained at her father’s knee in the art of polite political chit chat. Men and women she’d fought with for the last five years came up to her, smiled and said how much they’d enjoyed working with her.
Kris smiled right back and said nice things too.
It was very civilized and totally hypocritical.
Kris worked late that evening, finishing up the last crumbs of the briefing Kitano needed to survive. Both Amber and Alice were well into their new relationship with one of Nelly’s kids. Amber named her computer Logan; why, she didn’t say. Alice tagged hers with Super Girl. They, and their new aides, Lieutenant Lucian D’Angelo with his computer, San Martin and Kitty Townson with Simba, were fully up to speed now.
“Kris, you go home and get everything together for your mission,” Amber finally said. “Those four foreign office peacocks, are they really going to work with you, or are they maybe going to be a pain in your ass?”
“If so, then karma is a bitch,” Kris admitted to the possibility.
She and Jack left very late, but Amber and Alice were still burning the lights. Jack lugging the lovely box with the ceremonial baton; Kris held the lighter one under her right arm.
Ruth and John thought mommy’s new toy was the neatest thing and just what they wanted.
[DA2]
Chapter 14
Four weeks later Kris observed the departure of the 6th Battlecruiser Fleet from High Wardhaven station from the flag bridge of the USS Princess Royal surrounded by her personal staff. The Sweet P, as her lower decks had rechristened her, had been one of the first battlecruisers to be refit for the 24-inch lasers.
They’d slit her open, replaced her reactors and guns with more powerful ones, pumped in more Smart MetalTM, and coated it all with additional crystal armor sufficient for a battle at Condition Zed. The P Royal, however, was ten thousand tons over the normal displacement of a battlecruiser of her class. She still had the extra Smart MetalTM she’d taken on for the jaunt as the flagship of a princess arbitrator to the Greenfeld Empire to stop their civil war.
Kris had intended to offer the P Royal for Vice Admiral Jean Darlan’s flag, but he had chosen the Bold in the second task force. He was about as far from Kris as he could get and still accompany her to the Iteeche Court. Kris had hoped they would get off on a better footing, but she could understand. She had twice conducted readiness reviews of his command and twice flunked its. Admiral Darlan was a retread from the Battle Force and expected his battlecruisers to follow in his wake. He liked battle lines, sixteen ships long, and saw no reason for his ships to “jitterbug” around.
Kris would have relieved him if she could have, but he had friends. Apparently, those friends had gotten him this command. Kris certainly hadn’t asked for him.
The Princess Royal was part of the 13th Battlecruiser Squadron which still included the Intrepid, Courageous, Furious, Resolute, Defender, Steadfast and Monarch. Commander Ajax no long commanded the P. Royal. Instead, Commodore Ajax now flew her flag aboard Intrepid, commanding the entire squadron.
At least some of the Navy around Kris were familiar and friendly.
The thirty-two battlecruisers of the 6th fleet followed in the wake of the sixteen Imperial battlecruisers that had brought Ron to Wardhaven. They had returned only two days ago, and were now getting underway to lead the way back to court.
Behind the U.S. battlecruisers came the merchant ships.
In the lead was a luxury liner full of diplomats, contractors and support civilians. The Space Fiesta was new, the first major liner constructed of Smart MetalTM. She’d been taken over and redesigned into a high-speed passenger liner for the run either to the Iteeche Empire or to Alwa. That had involved doubling her number of reactors and adding additional rocket motors to get her up to 3.5 gees. The redesign also included pouring in extra Smart MetalTM to strengthen her girders and reinforce her strength members. Renamed the USS King Raymond I, she’d never go back to her intended role of a luxury liner.
Following her were eight fast attack transports, taken off the Alwa run. Able to make 3.5 gees and armed with 6-inch lasers, they carried more of Kris’s contractors, support staff and supplies. The Rankin had the 3rd battalion, 1st Marines, reinforced, on board. By the time a full set of attachments, MP, NCIS, Security, Special Forces and more wer
e added on, it topped out at fourteen hundred strong.
Kris had taken pity on the tight quarters on the Rankin and put a company aboard the Princess Royal. Kris had not been able to get a Marine detachment aboard all the battlecruisers; the corps was spread pretty thin. Still, all the flagships in the fleet had a Marine platoon size detachment aboard. If things got challenging, Kris could form the ship Marines into an additional battalion to call on.
The eight attack transports got away from the station as smartly as the battlecruisers. The next two dozen plus, however, were a very motley crew. Grampa Al’s huge Glory of Free Enterprise, Pride of the Market, and Grandeur of the Profit Motive . . . tell me what you really think, Grampa, followed right behind the transports, and just as smartly.
“Nelly, are Grampa Al’s ships armed?”
“Four 18-inch long guns forward, a half dozen 5-inchers scattered around the hull. I don’t think he wants you to shoot at them this time,” Nelly said, with a chuckle in her voice.
Kris turned to Amanda and Jacques. “Do you know Grampa Al has an ambassador of his own on the Glory?”
“No,” Amanda said.
“Yep, Grampa calls him the ‘Ambassador for Business.’ If that so-called ambassador tries to wrangle a meeting with the Emperor, Jack, you have my permission to lock him in the brig.”
“The gall of some Longknifes,” Jack muttered softly enough to be heard on the entire flag bridge. He got the laugh he deserved.
The next dozen or so merchant ships flew the flags of every major association, including Earth and her rump of The Society of Humanity. Kris wasn’t sure the credentials of the business folks aboard Earth’s Golden Hind were official, but King Ray had chosen to let them follow along, while warning Kris to be careful of them. Kris had passed that warning right along to Jack and Abby.
The last dozen or more ships were an open question. They were merchant skippers and free traders looking to make a fast buck. Jack’s Marines had searched those ships along with the others and found no contraband aboard. Kris had warned the skippers that in event that the fleet found itself surprised by things they’d been promised weren’t there, the battlecruisers might exit the area at 3.5 gees. The skippers had been a bit surprised by that, but had not withdrawn.
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