Kris Longknife Audacious

by Mike Shepherd

  “Three assassination attempts.” Kris tried to sound thoughtful rather than outraged. “I imagine that cuts down on the requests. Those that don’t survive the first couple don’t trouble your day much do they.”

  “No, ah, they don’t.” Lieutenant Martinez had the good sense to at least look apologetic.

  “Does last night’s shoot-out count as one? Can I just send you two more?”

  “Last night?” he said, glancing offscreen. “I don’t have any report of an attempt on your life. My morning report says everything was quiet last night.”

  Which left Kris wondering what it took for the powers that be in this burg to admit there had been a major can of worms crawling around their streets, shooting off automatic weapons. If last night was quiet, did it take the use of a long-forgotten fusion bomb to get noticed. Is this part of why I’m here?

  Kris turned to Abby. “I’m sure your reports contain several attempts on my life. Would you be kind enough to forward them to Lieutenant Martinez.”

  “I usually charge for such releases,” Abby primly said.

  “Put it on my bill,” Kris growled. “Send six of them.”

  “Six,” squeaked from the wall screen Kris was addressing.

  “Just six. Abby, have you filled out the basic form?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the maid said as if on cue.

  “It would be a shame if you had to explain to King Raymond, formerly President Ray Longknife of the Society of Humanity, how it came that I got killed on Eden because me and my escort couldn’t shoot back.”

  “President Longknife. You’re related to him!”

  “He’s my great-grandfather.”

  His “Oh” took a minute for Martinez to swallow. “And you want an escort.”

  “My Chief of Security, First Lieutenant Montoya, and at least four other people on my immediate staff. I will also have six Marines rotating in and out of my protection detail. Maybe more in some instances.”

  “When you are granted a permit, it covers your bodyguards,” Martinez muttered.

  “You don’t have cause to grant many of these, do you?”

  “Most requests are legacies. Your father had a permit, so you are authorized one when you move outside his secured area. Your father or mother was a registered bodyguard and you are accepted into one of the guilds. That sort of thing.”

  More information that didn’t make it into Kris’s official briefings. NELLY, REMIND ME TO LOOK INTO THE SERVICES OF SUCH AGENCIES.

  I AM ALREADY SEARCHING. THEY ARE NOT LISTED IN THE PUBLIC DATABASE.

  Curiouser and curiouser.

  The call went long, but it left Kris with only five minutes to cool her heels…and think…in the ambassador’s outer office before the staff meeting collapsed and she was invited into the inner holy of holies.

  “The ambassador will see you now,” his secretary said, a fellow in a three-piece business suit that made him look more like an ambassador than a secretary. But then the entire outer office was overblown in wood desks, expensive wallpaper, and carved filigree.

  The ambassador’s office was even more palatial. But Kris had seen where the king of a hundred planets lived…and he needed none of this folderol. But he was Ray Longknife—that Ray Longknife—and he needed little display to highlight his power.

  Ambassador VanDerFund apparently felt the need for display. Kris wondered how many other people knew it was all borrowed.

  The embassy was known locally as Brown House, not because any streak of brown showed on its facade but because a certain Mr. Brown had built it to display the wealth he’d made on Eden in the first century of its colonization. Several of the first landers had built similar mansions near the center of town before land got so expensive. The great-great-grandkids now preferred to make their show of wealth farther out…some complete with hunting forests. Most in-town places, like Mr. Brown’s, were taken over for other uses.

  This was not the only one that had become an embassy. Somewhere across town, Greenfeld had an even bigger white elephant to feed Henry Peterwald the XII’s ego.

  “Mr. Ambassador,” Kris said, with a nod.

  “Your Highness,” Samuel VanDerFund said with a slight bow that didn’t make it past his chin. Dressed in a suit his secretary might have ordered, his aquiline face, graying hair, and other auroras of strength and power were cut short, literally, by his five and a half feet of stature. Kris placed his age at eighty. Back then, there had been an unforseen genetic blunder attached to offspring bioengineered for just such qualities Sammy exuded. Short stature. Oh, and a sensitivity that went with it. No one called him Sammy to his face.

  Maybe a princess could, but Kris wasn’t interested in finding out.

  Today, Sammy was also short-tempered. He went directly from “Your Highness,” with no further preamble, to “What were you trying to do, get us all declared persona non grata on this planet. I was warned that you don’t seem to care that there are half a dozen planets that you cannot return to, but some of us have the honor of representing Wardhaven and its growing alliance on planets like Eden. And we don’t want to leave.”

  He finished by pulling several purple folders from a drawer and tossing them across his immaculate marble desk. The reports that slid from them duplicated those Penny had shared with Kris and friends over breakfast. One was new. It showed the seal of the prime minister’s office. Kris glanced at it. It had the story straight.

  “Interesting,” Kris said with a frown. “I just finished talking to a police lieutenant about getting a permit for my bodyguards to carry weapons. He said that the police reports from last night show nothing happened.”

  “Clearly, he is misinformed,” the ambassador snorted, dismissing Martinez with a wave of his hand. He then launched into a diatribe on Kris’s need to do her job, keep a low profile, and not disturb the tranquility of the embassy to the second most ancient planet in human space…and the most important when it came to Wardhaven’s growing trade.

  Kris nodded in all the right places, made the occasional proper noise of agreement…and put her time to better uses.

  NELLY, WHAT IS THE MEDIA SAYING ABOUT LAST NIGHT?

  I WAS WONDERING WHEN YOU WOULD ASK. NOTHING, FOR THE MOST PART.

  NOTHING, ZERO, NADA!

  PRETTY MUCH. NO SHOOT-OUT. NO DEAD BODIES. I EVEN CHECKED THE MORGUE. NO ONE ADMITTED WITH GUNSHOT WOUNDS.

  SO, NOTHING HAPPENED, Kris said, and barely kept a puzzled frown from her face that wouldn’t have been a proper response to where Sammy was in his flow of words, wisdom, and correction.

  THERE IS A REPORT IN A SMALL MEDIA OUTLET THAT CONCERNS ITSELF WITH CIVIC MATTERS AND BUSINESS CONTRACTS FOR CITY WORK. IT SAYS A FIRE HYDRANT FAILED, AND POINTS OUT THAT THE SAME HYDRANT FAILED NOT THREE YEARS AGO. IT DEMANDS AN INVESTIGATION INTO SHODDY WORKMANSHIP BY CITY WORKERS AND STRONGLY SUGGESTS SUCH MATTERS SHOULD BE CONTRACTED OUT TO MORE EFFICIENT PRIVATE CONTRACTORS.

  THREE YEARS AGO. DID YOU CHECK THAT STORY, NELLY.

  YES, KRIS. THAT FLOODING WAS PUT DOWN TO A BAD WELD AT THE FACTORY.

  NO WAY TO TELL IF ANYTHING HELPED IT ALONG?

  SORRY, KRIS. I CAN ONLY REPORT THE NEWS THAT SOMEONE WRITES.

  AND SOMEONE SEEMS TO HAVE A SOLID LOCK ON WHAT THAT IS, Kris said, then nodded for the ambassador’s benefit and said, “Yes sir, I will endeavor to not be attacked by assassins in the future.”

  If Sammy detected the sarcasm, it did not show in his dismissal. “Now, today you have some important negotiations. Thank heavens they are in the embassy. I shall assume you can do that without destroying the building.”

  “Yes, Mr. Ambassador. I’m sure I can.”

  He made a point of turning his attention to his desk computer. Kris made a point of nodding and leaving. It looked like it was going to be a busy day.

  With luck, it would not be fatal for anyone, especially Kris.

  6

  Three planets, Lorna Do, Pitts Hope, and Hurtford wanted to build the latest line of busine
ss computers coming from IBM loaded with the software that went with them.

  The sales rep from IBM was most willing to deal…but at a price that was quite out of line for a similar sale just closed between Yamato, Europa, and Columbia.

  Kris knew about that deal. A Nuu Enterprises company on Yamato had been involved. The three reps on Kris’s side also knew of the deal from their sources. The sales rep had to know they knew. Still, she smiled cheerfully and set the higher price, and the other planet reps smiled just as cheerfully and began their own long-winded campaign to lower the price.

  All Kris could think of was that this was another day she’d never have again.

  So, had Grampa Ray sent her here to learn to waste time?

  Somehow, Kris doubted that.

  She set Nelly to doing a more informed search on this planet, and nodded along with the conversation while Nelly searched. And made reports.

  Reports that were as useless as the negotiations.

  KRIS, I HAVE TRIED RESEARCHING THE LAST HUNDRED YEARS OF THIS PLANET’S HISTORY BUT I KEEP COMING UP AGAINST BABBLE.

  BABBLE?

  YES, MA’AM. I TRIED SEARCHING THE ARCHIVES OF THE THREE MAIN MEDIA SOURCES ON EDEN. HOWEVER, ALL THREE HAVE THEIR DATA STORED IN A DIFFERENT, NONSTANDARD FORMAT AND I CAN ONLY ACCESS THEM IF I APPLY FOR A SUBSCRIPTION AND AM APPROVED. THE COST FOR ANY OF THEM IS UNBELIEVABLY HIGH.

  HOW HIGH?

  Nelly quoted a price, and Kris barely suppressed a whistle that didn’t fit into the bargaining. News archive subs would set Kris back the price of several of those overpriced dresses Abby occasionally added to her royal wardrobe.

  YOU HAVEN’T APPLIED FOR A SUBSCRIPTION?

  NO, KRIS, I DO NOT SPEND THAT KIND OF MONEY WITHOUT PERMISSION. I AM NOT ABBY. ALSO, I WAS NOT SURE YOU WANTED IT KNOWN THAT YOU WERE APPLYING FOR SUCH A SUBSCRIPTION.

  Which was Kris’s second thought. While getting the straight skinny on this planet might not be easy, she somehow doubted keeping anything a secret was all that easy, either.

  “Kris, you have a call coming in,” Nelly whispered softly.

  “I’ll take it,” Kris said. While the actual conversation would take place in the privacy of Kris’s brain, it was common courtesy to let people in business meetings know that one of their members was going to be somewhat distracted for a while.

  Around Kris, the conversation did not pause. That only confirmed her suspicion that while she might be in a Navy lieutenant’s uniform, she was here to keep up royal appearances.

  HELLO, Kris said, using Nelly’s net connection.

  THIS IS LIEUTENANT MARTINEZ, CALLING ABOUT YOUR WEAPONS PERMIT.

  YES, LIEUTENANT, THANK YOU FOR GETTING BACK TO ME SO QUICKLY.

  WHAT MY SPEED MAY BE REMAINS TO BE SEEN. I WOULD LIKE AN OPPORTUNITY TO TALK TO YOU FOR A FEW MINUTES. PREFERABLY ALONE AND SOMEWHERE WE WON’T BE INTERRUPTED. “Or overheard” seemed to be hanging there unsaid.

  Of course, anywhere that filled that bill could also be setting her up to be gunned down by any shooter walking by.

  COULD YOU MEET ME HERE AT THE EMBASSY?

  I’D PREFER NOT TO, came back very quickly.

  WHY DON’T YOU MEET ME IN FRONT OF THE EMBASSY AND WE’LL SETTLE ON A WALK FROM THERE. SAY IN FIFTEEN MINUTES.

  I WAS THINKING ABOUT LUNCH.

  I WAS THINKING ABOUT NOW. This at least would let her keep control of part of this potential bit of target practice.

  As soon as Martinez rung off, Kris informed Jack.

  NO SURPRISE OUR WALLS HAVE EARS. Jack agreed. I AM A BIT SURPRISED THAT A LOCAL COP WOULD NOT WANT TO TALK TO THEM.

  I’M DISCOVERING LESS AND LESS ABOUT THIS PLANET, JACK. MAYBE I CAN FIND OUT SOMETHING IF THIS FELLOW FEELS FREE TO TALK?

  AND DOESN’T GET YOU KILLED.

  AND ON THAT TOPIC, DO YOU THINK YOU COULD SCARE US UP A HALF DOZEN MARINES. IN CIVVIES. I DON’T WANT TO LOOK LIKE A PARADE.

  I’LL GET THEM IN CIVVIES. NO GUARANTEE THEY WON’T LOOK LIKE A SQUAD OF MARINES, THOUGH.

  MAYBE THEY’LL SCARE OFF MY NEXT ASSASSIN.

  THAT WOULD BE A CHANGE.

  7

  “Lieutenant Martinez, so nice of you to come so quickly,” Kris said as she offered her hand. He shook it. In a rumpled raincoat and thick-soled shoes, he looked the part of a cop. Kris had ditched her cover and wore a light blue civilian raincoat over her whites. The violation of uniform regs just might make her a harder target. It made Jack happier.

  Jack, along with a half dozen other Marines in civilian clothes formed a wedge behind Kris. Martinez took in their tight haircuts with a nod and a smile. “I’ll see if I can postdate your application’s approval to cover this walk.”

  “We would greatly appreciate that.” Kris left it to Martinez to decide if the “we” was royal or collective. The nod from Jack made either fit.

  “So, where shall we walk?” Kris asked.

  “There is a mall that many people enjoy on days as sunny as these,” the policeman said, eyeing a patch of blue sky where the sun shown through the white, fluffy clouds. The raincoats actually might come in handy.

  “You pick the mall, I pick the direction,” Kris said.

  Martinez smiled tightly and led the way. Jack’s team formed a circle around them. Two blocks over, they found the mall, four-or six-blocks wide with trees and gravel walks. At one end was a stone monument in the classic shape of a rocket. At the other end an imposing building with colonnades.

  “Is that where the tricameral legislature meets?” Kris had noted in passing that Eden was unusual in that it had three legislative bodies, not the usual one or two.

  Martinez shook his head. “Only the American legislature.”

  Kris was about to let that pass, but a faint alarm bell went off somewhere. Martinez was leading the way across the mall. They had some time, so Kris asked the dumb question.

  “American. Isn’t that one of the main powers on Earth? It can’t have a legislative body out here on Eden.”

  “Earth doesn’t,” Martinez said, then gave a quick jerk of his head toward the domed building. “That thing is all ours.”

  Kris goaded him on with a quizzical look.

  “About a third of the politicians that make the laws of my fair planet work out of that building. The European legislature sits in New Geneva and the Chinese Mandate of Heaven speaks from Guang Zhou Du.”

  Kris almost missed a step as they crossed from grass to gravel. She’d assumed that the tricameral reference had been to three houses elected by the same people, maybe one by head count, one by regions, and one by wealth or nobility or some such. Why hadn’t this been plainer in her briefing. NELLY?

  I AM SEARCHING THE RECORDS, KRIS. SUDDENLY WHAT SEEMED PLAIN AS THE NOSE ON YOUR FACE IS TURNING INTO A WHOLE LOT OF NOTHING.

  Kris suspected any third-grader on Eden could have told her what she wanted to know. Why should it be written down?

  “Those are all from old Earth,” Kris said.

  “AmeraEx, ReichBank, and some similar association from China funded the loans that got Eden started. Most of the early settlers came from those three. When they paid off the mortgage and demanded the right to set up their own government, they wanted a world government, but one that wouldn’t step on any of their toes. Here in the American territories we measure in feet, apply common law, and things like that. They actually use the Napoleonic code I’m told in the Eurolands. And if you can figure out the Mandate of Heaven…” He shrugged.

  Kris had that feeling she got when she was being attacked by all the information she needed to solve a problem. Only it was nibbling her to death by the bites of a thousand rabbits. And in a moment they’d all be gone and she’d be left bleeding with nothing to show for the effort.

  She fell back on the blandest of questions a politician’s daughter knew. “So, do you like what your legislator is doing? You plan to vote for him next election?”

  “I don’t have a representative. I’m not a voter.”

  And
alarm bells went off all through Kris’s skull. “Jack, have we got a secure area here?”

  “Any beams aimed at us will only get white noise. Unknown nanos within ten meters are toast, Your Highness,” he snapped. Was he just as eager to get the next question answered?

  “Lieutenant,” Kris said, not looking at the police officer, “I assume you wanted to be someplace we could talk without anyone listening in on what you said. I, too, occasionally want my privacy. My security chief assures me we have it, but before we go into your concerns, could you please tell me what you meant by your last statement. You’re not a voter? The Charter of the Society of Humanity gave all citizens the franchise. Planets could make limits for age, mental condition, and penal status, but…” Kris let her words trail off.

  The cop looked at Kris like she’d just asked if murder was a felony around here.

  Kris called on her perfect source for information. “Nelly, isn’t universal suffrage in the Society of Humanity’s charter?”

  “No, Kris, the basic charter allows each planet to establish its own criteria for the vote.”

  “I know that,” Kris snapped, not happy at being corrected. “But Grampa Ray pushed through the Twenty-fourth Amendment when he was President after the Unity War. He insisted all planets give everyone the vote.”

  “He did, Kris,” Jack said from behind her. “New planets had to. However, existing members were only encouraged to.”

  “President Ray Longknife made a major effort to get all planets to adopt universal suffrage.” Nelly sounded like she was quoting from one of several dozen books on the topic. “But the Iteeche War interrupted him.”

  “And Eden was quite set in its ways,” the policeman added. “And your great-grandfather needed the support of Eden…and its industry…in the war.”

  They were in the middle of the mall, on one of the gravel walks. “Which way do you want to go?” Officer Martinez asked.

  Kris pointed toward the huge building. It was official and likely to have more security around it. She and the cop ambled toward it. Kris made an effort to swallow being caught short on something she should have known, and asked one more question.