Kris Longknife Audacious

by Mike Shepherd

  What should she do with the commander? She pondered that as she made her way to her seat.

  She’d sworn she would lead no more children’s crusades. Yet everything she was doing today, tomorrow, turned on the curt message Bronc had sent. At what risk?

  But the commander was no child. He might sound like some cockeyed optimist, but it wasn’t because he didn’t know the odds. He’d served in the uniform that barely fit him for almost twenty years. No, he’d looked the risk in the eye and despite the obviously terrible odds, was asking Kris for a chance to earn his pay. His pay for tomorrow…and for quite a few years when no one had given him credit for earning a dime.

  “Commander, why don’t you sit with us? I’d be honored to have you escort me to the reception.”

  And the worried lines on the commander’s face were replaced by a happy smile.

  Would he still be smiling when they buried him?

  The table talk that night at the unsecured wardroom tables was subdued, but seemed to center on how to armor up formal dress uniforms.

  Bronc did his best to stand at attention in front of the one they all called the colonel. Still, his knees were shaking, barely holding him up.

  “I’m told you have a very fancy and new computer,” the colonel told Bronc, then glanced at the sergeant who’d been working with Bronc and Mick and Trang.

  “Ya, yes, sir, sir. An old lady gave it to me, sir.” Bronc tried not to stammer, and failed miserably.

  “And why did she give this nice toy to you?”

  “Ah, sir, she asked me, ah, what I wanted and I told her, sir. Then, ah, she, she told me what she wanted, sir.” This time he did stammer and hoped he was turning beet red.

  The colonel actually smiled. “I hope you had fun, boy.”

  “I think I did, sir,” Bronc answered. That got him a laugh from both soldiers.

  Of course, what Abby really did was tell him to stay clear of Longknifes. At the moment, Bronc really wished he had.

  “How good is that antique he’s got?” the colonel asked.

  “Surprisingly good, Colonel, compared with the crap those other two dunderheads brought. He still had the receipt from a local computer store in his pocket. His story checks out. No doubt he earned his pay.”

  Both men chuckled at that. Bronc could feel himself going hot in the face again.

  “How old are you, boy?” the commander asked.

  “Fourteen, sir. Almost fifteen.”

  “Do you know how to use that computer?”

  “Yes, sir. Ah, no, sir. I mean, I’m learning to use it.”

  The colonel frowned, but the sergeant stepped in. “The two young fools that have been teaching him don’t know how to use half of what they’ve got. I think the kid’s got what it takes. Let me work with him for a day and I’ll let you know for sure.”

  “We may not have a day,” the colonel growled. “Young man, these are momentous times for Eden. A new day is coming. Bright people like you will find that the sky is the limit if you play your cards right. Are you a card player?”

  “Na, no, sir,” Bronc said, then quickly added softly. “I never had the money, sir.”

  “Stick with us and you’ll have that money. Sergeant, do what you need to do, but get me what I have to have.”

  Bronc followed the sergeant out of the colonel’s tiny command center. It was little more than a tent with loads of computers. Real ones, ones like Bronc had only heard about.

  Only after he was halfway back to the shelter he shared with Mick and Trang, did Bronc breathe easy. The last couple of guys who had been taken up to see the colonel had not returned. Rumor was their bodies had been dumped behind the rifle range.

  Bronc hadn’t been trained to use a rifle, so he didn’t even know where the range was. And he didn’t want to know.

  He had managed to get a message off to Cara when he picked up the talk that they were going to kill everyone.

  He still didn’t know who the everyone was, nor did he know a where for the killing.

  From what the colonel said, the when must be getting close. The who that would be do the killing was pretty clear. Scores of men walked around the camp with long rifles or short machine pistols slung in front of them.

  Bronc so wanted to get another note off to Cara, but knew better than to even think of it. He was getting music on his new computer in areas he had no idea how to interpret. This place had electronic security like he’d never dreamed of.

  No question, Abby and the chief had given him a whole lot more computer than he knew how to use.

  Maybe, if he listened to it, he’d manage to stay alive.

  41

  Kris slept amazingly well that night, and was halfway through her morning jog with the Marines when Nelly ruined her day.

  “Inspector Johnson just took an encrypted call from someone. He is parked in front of the embassy.”

  Kris considered dropping out of the morning run, then decided that the good inspector could just wait. In the fullness of time, a Marine company in full-battle rattle, trailed by a platoon of very sweaty sailors, double-timed up to the embassy’s front door.

  Kris fell out when Gunny gave the order. While the Marines trotted off to quarters, Kris and her team, with Captain DeVar at their elbow, turned to face the inspector.

  “It still looks like you’re ready to invade my planet,” the inspector started off. So much for small talk.

  “My orders are strictly defensive,” Captain DeVar said, when Kris tossed him the question with a nod of her head.

  “Though you could hardly do worse with his Marines than you’re doing by yourself,” Penny added.

  That drew a frown from the local cop. He fixed Kris with a stare. “What do you know?”

  “Good Morning, Inspector, and a fine one your planet is offering us, isn’t it,” Kris said, insisting on some friendly chitchat before the heavy stuff.

  “I wouldn’t know about the morning. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Get to the bottom of all your boxes?” Kris asked, cheerily.

  “No. And now I have all kinds of people arguing over jurisdiction.” He snorted. “Some of them I didn’t think were even supposed to know about the boxes. Do I owe you for that?”

  Kris shrugged. “Eden is very good about keeping its secrets, Inspector. Very good except when it is very bad. Doesn’t seem to be anywhere in the middle.”

  The inspector turned and walked across the broad driveway of the embassy. Kris followed, her crew on sniper lookout.

  In the middle of the parking lot, he turned on her and whispered. “I need to know what you know.”

  Kris nodded…and gave him an accurate answer that probably had nothing to do with his question. “Eden is going to have to change. The corruption, the secrecy, the marginalizing of some of your best can’t go on.”

  “Says you, and anyone who isn’t a complete fool,” snapped the inspector. “You have a penny solution or have you invested a whole dime in the problem of making it happen?”

  Kris shrugged, not at all surprised by his reaction. “I’m just a tourist giving you my observation. The status quo on Eden has very little time left. Eden will either change itself or be changed by those who don’t care a fig for her.”

  “Thanks for your helpful advice,” the inspector growled and looked ready to storm away.

  And Kris chose to gamble that he was as sincere as his voice had been. “They plan to kill everyone,” she said.

  The inspector stopped before his second stomp and whirled back to face Kris. “Who is going to kill all of who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can’t you get back to your source?”

  “What was sent to us was sent at great personal risk. No, I am not going to demand more.”

  “You trust this source?”

  “I have no reason not to.”

  “That’s an interesting conclusion from someone who’s been on the planet less than a month.”

  “
Take it as you will.”

  “They are going to kill everyone,” the inspector repeated.

  “Whoever the ‘they’ are and whoever the ‘everyone’ are. Assuming the ‘they’ can pull it off.”

  “When?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Inspector.”

  He shook his head and began pacing. “There is no way that any ‘they’ can kill ‘everyone.’”

  Kris eyed the inspector. The answer to that question had slapped her in the face only moments after the intel. How could the inspector not see what she saw?

  “I’ve been invited to a reception this evening. I’m told everyone who is anyone will be there,” she said slowly.

  Inspector Johnson glanced up from his pacing. “Yes, the reception at the National Gallery of the Arts. I know about that.”

  “Everyone who is anyone?” Kris repeated.

  He shook his head forcefully. “Not a chance. Vice President McLyndon had me review security on the place. It will be airtight. That’s why we use the Gallery for those things. The actual building is solid stone. The gardens and arboretum around it give us open kill fields. You’re as safe there as in your mother’s arms.”

  Did the inspector know just how much Kris did not care for that imagery?

  “I can’t tell you how glad that makes me feel,” Kris said, pouring as much sarcasm as she could manage into “glad.”

  “Trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about tonight.”

  Kris glanced at Jack and DeVar. Between them they’d come up with dozens of lines of assault on that big stone hulk. Did Johnson know something they didn’t? Or was he totally unable to weigh the power of a modern assault team against it?

  At her father’s knee, Kris had learned that there are none so blind as those with eyes but unwilling to see. By high school, Kris had her own way of putting it: There was no way to solve a problem for people who didn’t know they had one.

  Clearly, Inspector Johnson was a man with a problem that he wanted Kris to help him solve. But the National Gallery was not that problem.

  Maybe he was right.

  Kris shrugged and said, “Thank you. I feel so much better about tonight already,” and almost made it sound sincere.

  “You have any other ideas?”

  Kris glanced at her team. They slowly shook their heads.

  “Well, you let me know if you have any other information. Maybe your source is wrong about that ‘killing everyone.’”

  “Maybe,” Kris said. “You find any more weapons dumps?”

  “No. Maybe that was the only one. I think we’ve put a solid stop on that. Maybe we’re already on the downward slope of this crisis. Who knows?”

  “Optimists have fewer ulcers,” Penny said.

  “Pessimists live longer,” Jack said softly as the inspector drove away.

  “Captain, better have your tech team go over the approaches to the Gallery as soon as possible. Use Nelly’s best scouts. We can’t afford to have you run into good guys in your approach march.”

  “Blue on blue is truly a waste of good effort,” Captain DeVar agreed.

  “So, now you feeling better about tonight,” Penny said with a grin.

  “I sure do,” Kris answered. “My stomach’s down to less than a hundred flip-flops per minute.

  42

  Kris waited until almost seven to call the ambassador. And did it from her tub as Abby poured water over her head.

  “Mr. Ambassador, I think you’re going to have to leave without me. I’m running late.” Her statement was not quite drowned out by a sprayer working soap suds out of her hair.

  “How will you get to the reception if I leave you?” He didn’t sound all that worried. Kris had never been told why Sammy wanted to leave a full two hours early, but she suspected this might be the height of his social season.

  Apparently, even Wardhaven’s ambassador didn’t get to see the real power on Eden all that often. That was something she ought to mention to Father when next they met.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I rented that love boat that Vicky Peterwald has been riding around in for the last week or more. This time I’m showing up in the biggest limo.”

  “So long as you’re paying for it” came through the line just before it went dead.

  “Was that too easy?” Kris asked Abby.

  “Baby ducks, I hope this don’t come as too painful a revelation, but I don’t think that man likes you.”

  Kris modeled wide-eyed shock. “You think so!”

  And got soap in her eyes for the dramatics.

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be looking after my safety,” Kris sputtered as she wiped her eyes.

  “Honey, how can you talk safety with you going where you’re going.”

  Which kind of let all the funny out of the situation.

  “There is that,” Kris said soberly and stood to dry herself off. Pulling on her new spider-silk bodysuit, Kris found herself remembering how the last one had earned its retirement. The black-and-blue places were still on her leg and belly, covered now by a layer of tanning cream.

  The bra Abby handed Kris had extra room in it. “Be careful how you use these, they’re high explosives,” Abby said, as she slipped the inserts in.

  Suddenly Kris had boobs. Boobs she knew all too well how to make go boom.

  The girdle was reinforced with ceramics. This gave Kris a bit of a rear, though not one man gave a second glance.

  Abby must have read Kris’s mind. “Don’t worry. Tonight, you’ll have buns.”

  “You’re padding my rear?”

  “What do you think of this dress?” Abby asked as she slipped it over Kris’s head.

  “It’s different,” Kris agreed. Most of Kris’s dresses had a narrow waist, then flounced out to leave the illusion of hips. That also left Kris with plenty of room to hide the odd grenade among her crinolines.

  Tonight’s dress was a sparkly gray affair that fit her like a second skin.

  Except where it grew suddenly thick. Which it did around her butt. “What have you got there? More armor?”

  “Nope, baby cakes, offense, ma’am, offense. Feel around. See what opens up.”

  Kris brushed her hand over her bottom and found extra thickness. She worked her hand over it a bit slower and found a pocket opening up.

  From said pocket she pulled a…something. It was square and thin and invited her to toss it like a Frisbee.

  “The gray ones are all whizbangs. Flash, smoke, and noise,” Abby said. “Depress the bump in the center of it and it’s armed. Five-second delay. Turn it right for a four second. Left for a three second.”

  Kris eyed the device. Clearly this was not something she’d find in any Marine armory. Then again, few Marines were trained to close and engage the enemy on the dance floor.

  “The next row on your butt are green and carry disabling gas. I’ve included a filter in your purse,” Abby said.

  Kris felt and found there was a second row. And a third row.

  “Last row is more of the whizbangs.”

  Abby worked Kris’s head into a wig with long, cascading blond curls to hide her automatic, then placed a lovely tiara to top it all. Not the usual Navy one, but a filigree confection that served better as an antenna for Nelly’s search routines.

  Being made of Smart Metal, the crown also afforded Nelly more raw material if she found herself needing to reinforce her nano-scouts.

  As Kris rose from her dressing table, she found the shoes, unfortunately, were just as uncomfortable. “Can’t you do anything about these?” Kris said, lifting one foot as high as the tight dress would allow.

  And discovered the dress opened a slit when she needed it. She almost did a high kick.

  “Sorry, my tinder-footed Highness,” Abby said, “but three-inch heels are three-inch heels. You should try wearing them more often and getting your feet comfortable in them.”

  “Three-inch heels are not uniform compliant,” Kris said.

  “Or yo
u could buy from the right place. Nelly, why don’t you show Kris what she’s really wearing this evening.”

  “Oh, boy, can I,” the computer said. Kris could almost hear hands rubbing together in glee.

  And suddenly Kris found herself staring into her mirror at a Kris wearing a Kelly-green dress, with perfect cream-white skin and red hair. She had to squint hard to notice the tiara.

  Kris’s eyes widened as she thought of possibilities. “How much can you change this?”

  Abby laughed. “If someone’s looking for a blonde princess in a gray dress, they’re gonna have to look long and hard to find you.”

  And the dress was a royal blue, and Kris was a brunette.

  “Just how far can this go?”

  And Kris stared at a black hole in the mirror. Her face, her hair, her dress, her skin were as dark as a black cat in a coal bin at midnight.

  And her shoes were pumps, great for running.

  “Now that’s what I call an outfit, but my nose is still too big,” she muttered.

  “I am only licensed to take care of so many of your problems,” Abby sniffed. “By the way, you’ve got a carbon copy of yourself running around tonight. One of your woman Marines has a dress just like yours. In black. For now.”

  “That should provide some interesting options,” Kris muttered thoughtfully, then centered herself on the moment.

  “Okay, so how do I look tonight? Nelly, make the dress red. Easy for someone to spot if they’re looking for little old me. Blond hair like usual.” Kris paused, considered just what she could get away with and sighed. “And three-inch heels.”

  Abby handed Kris a tiny purse on a golden chain. “It changes colors, too.”

  “What if Nelly gets jammed?”

  “Put the purse next to the dress. It will get the message,” Nelly said.

  And so Kris took one more look in the mirror, scowled at her usual self, and turned to face her future.

  Outside, she ran into her team. Jack was magnificent in his red and blues. “New set?” Kris asked.

  “My backup pair. Armored as well as the old set.”

  “Good luck,” Kris said.