Ever-helpful Nelly told Kris that there was a fine hotel just outside the gate that had plenty of rooms and a four-star restaurant.
But the rental cops at the gate tried to put a stop to that troop movement. It seemed that neither Kris nor any of her Marines were authorized to leave the base. For a second there it looked like matters would get downright mortal.
Fortunately, the base security guards manning the gate were puny…and unarmed. They took one look at the hulking Marines headed their way…many of them still armed to the teeth…and decided it was time for their coffee break.
All of them. All at once.
The hotel manager was a bit taken back by the arrival of one hundred filthy, tired, and evilly disposed hulks led by one very cranky princess. But the moment he got a look at Kris’s credit card, amazing things started to happen.
One entire wing of his hotel was scheduled to begin renovation that day. He shooed away the workmen and had his staff put old sheets on beds in record time.
Fifteen minutes after their arrival, half the Marines were sound asleep. The other half made a quick stop by the coffee shop for some chow before joining the others.
Kris’s last word to the manager was that many of her troopers were still heavily armed. Disturbing their sleep might not go very well for the one doing the disturbing. The manager nodded and assured her that none of her troops would be disturbed.
If only Kris had told the manager that she was in the same mood and should not be bothered either.
The clock beside her bed said Kris had hardly gotten ten hours sleep when she was awoken by a gentle but persistent tapping at her door.
“Go away or you are so dead.” It wasn’t a very princess way to greet someone, but Kris was not feeling much like a princess.
“But you’re the one who summoned me. All the way from Wardhaven.” That got her attention. The voice did sound dimly familiar.
Rolling out of a bed that had seemed so lovely a short time ago, but now looked full of enough dirt to grow potatoes, Kris crossed to the door and swung it open.
There was Captain Drago of her good ship Wasp.
“What’s a pirate like you doing this close to Earth?” she demanded.
“I heard a princess was in distress and decided to risk hanging in her rescue.”
Kris glanced down at her dress. It was filthy, bloodied, and torn. “More likely some street urchin. I’d invite you to chow but I’m not sure they’d let me in the restaurant without sloshing me down with a fire hose and finding something else to cover my ugliness.”
“I don’t know of whom you speak, Your Highness, but I see a full bath through that door, and I have taken to carrying around clothes in your size just in case you need them.”
“Is that a proposition,” Kris said, taking the offered blue shipsuit.
The black-hearted pirate just grinned.
“I’ll be with you in two shakes,” Kris said.
Showered and dressed, she found that her shoes of the night before had settled into pumps. Those alone she salvaged from what must have been a very expensive ensemble. Less than a minute later, she was ordering a steak smothered and loaded, and a salad deliverable five minutes ago.
The hotel showed no further evidence that it was occupied by a Marine task force until Jack marched in from one door the moment Gramma Ruth, Abby, and little Cara came in the other.
They all headed straight for Kris’s table. Which the manager immediately expanded and filled with water and menus.
“Good to see you again, Skipper,” Jack said. He had managed to have his uniform dry-cleaned and his shirt washed. His shoes, however, would never again carry the shine required of them.
“Glad to be here,” Captain Drago replied, “but I hope you will excuse me. I am glad I wasn’t here earlier. I see that the princess has been up to her usual mischief without her beauty nap.”
“Look upon that face…and die,” Kris muttered.
“I suspect a lot of Peterwald troops did,” Ruth said, under her breath.
“Where is Bronc?” Cara asked.
“Sleeping,” Jack assured her. “He’s got a concussion and a sprained wrist, but he’s in a lot better shape than some. That young man came through for us when we needed him,” he said, eyeing Kris, then Ruth. “I hope we can do something for him.”
“We already have,” Ruth said through a wide grin. “Seems that the requirements for a Wardhaven passport aren’t all that clearly codified just yet. A good friend of mine in the visa section was only too happy to provide one for him and his mom.”
Cara looked terrified. “Bronc is leaving Eden?”
“Bronc and you must get out of here,” Ruth said, her face now serious. Kris knew what had to come next.
Gramma Ruth did it softly, telling as gently as anyone could a young girl that her mother and grandmother had died suddenly. Violently.
When quiet came again, the girl sat in her chair for a long moment staring at her hands. “I thought that might be why Aunt Abby wasn’t letting me go home.” Cara shook her head. “Gramma Ganna wanted so much to move uptown. And it killed her just as dead as the hood kills kids.”
“I want to take you away from the hood,” Abby said. “I want to take you away from Eden.”
“Why, you were never here before?” She was blunt but honest.
“Right, I wasn’t,” Abby said, offering all the contrition she seemed able. “But you and I are all the family we’ve got. I want you here with me,” Abby said, shooting Kris a glance that told one princess to keep her mouth shut. We’ll settle anything between us later.
“Will Bronc be coming with us?”
“I don’t think so,” Gramma Ruth said. “My sister Mary’s youngest boy has a boy about Bronc’s age. Some folks may think Hurtford is a hayseed of a planet, but its got a good school system and Bronc will get a top-notch education there in a school where no one will try to kill him. I think the boy really needs that for a while.”
“And me?” came from Cara in a voice already lonely.
“I think your aunt has plans for your education,” Ruth said, eyeing Abby. She nodded. “And you and Bronc can send messages to keep up with each other.”
“I’m not sure I like that,” Cara said.
“All I ask is that you give it a chance for six months,” Abby said. “If it isn’t working out in half a year, we can look it over again.”
“Are you going to quit your job?”
“I don’t think I’ll have to,” Abby said, not meeting Kris’s eyes.
“Then we’ll be traveling around in space!”
“I’m never quite sure where I’ll be from moment to moment,” Abby admitted.
A waitress arrived to take orders; decisions were hastily made. And Captain Drago asked Kris what he was doing here.
“How big is your ship?” she said.
“The Wasp has changed a lot since you were last on her,” Drago said, “but she’s not a whole lot bigger than when you stole her.”
“I captured her fair and square,” Kris grumbled, but a schematic of the ship appeared on the table before them and it held her attention.
The ship was designed to pass for a vulnerable five-thousand-ton freighter. The command and crew space was forward. Amidship was a long spindle where shipping containers were attached to honest merchant ships. The Wasp could actually take quite a few.
Aft was the engine room that Kris remembered only too well.
Now, a large structure ballooned out to cover the length of the ship. And that was its secret. Smart metal could be rotated along the side of that outer skin, absorbing laser hits and radiating the heat back into space.
The Wasp had a warship’s hide on a sheepskin cover.
“And that’s not all. Nuu Research made a breakthrough. Our new reactors can strip electricity directly out of our fusion drive. No more having to use magnetic coils to coax electricity from the plasma blasting out our engines.” Drago grinned. “Next time we get in a figh
t while in orbit, somebody’s going to be very sorry they went for us.”
“How many people can you handle aboard?” Kris asked.
“Still only thirty. Maybe forty if they’re friendly.”
“I’ve got a hundred, hundred and fifty marines I need to get out of here.”
Drago paled at Kris’s words. “I’d never count on a Marine to be friendly.”
“There’s a Nuu Ship repair and modification facility here on High Eden,” Nelly said. “It lacks a full yard capability but it has some tools.”
“For what?” Drago said.
“People are using containers to ship colonists out on merchant ships,” Ruth observed innocently.
“But Eden never sends out many colonists,” Drago answered. “No one here makes those kinds of containers.”
“I have the designs in my innards,” Nelly said. “I could direct the robot shops to make what we want.”
“Thank you, Nelly,” Kris said.
Drago still shook his head at the thought of loading his wonderful ship full of big, hairy Marines.
But they were ready to sail four days later.
60
Captain Drago avoided asking Kris the obvious question until they were boosting for Jump Point Delta at 1.5 g’s.
“Where do I set a course for?”
Kris had been considering that quite a lot.
She turned to Abby, Jack, Penny, and Gramma Ruth. Penny, along with thirty-six bandaged, walking wounded had come aboard the day before the Wasp sealed locks and got under way.
There were other wounded that did not make it aboard. Captain DeVar’s legs were a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. The docs were still debating whether to fix him up or amputate and install metal. The wounded that did come arrived in twos and threes, anything not to draw attention. Kris was none too sure that mattered.
The newsies dirtside had a lot to report…and they were reporting it all.
The opposition party had used a rarely applied option for them to actually put a law on the table. Now, after the slaughter, they had the votes to see that their proposal to give the voting franchise to every man or woman in American Eden was not sent off to die in committee.
Any option for the ruling party to hold the line on the vote vanished when Lieutenant Martinez pointed out that he and his Fraternal Order of Proud Caballeros had not fought that night for those of Spanish blood, but for everyone on Eden. If people could fight for everyone’s freedom, shouldn’t everyone be free to vote?
Kris feared the man was too logical for a life in politics, but it looked like he was headed that way.
So full voters rights were passed and moments later, an election was scheduled. Eden certainly needed to fill plenty of seats. The presidency was vacant, as well as the prime minister position. And all three of the vice presidents also ended up vacant.
As it turned out, the woman who survived with the third vice president was not his wife, and they had been in his office the whole time, not skulking under a table. He admitted to being an alcoholic and signed himself into rehab.
She admitted to being an aspiring actress and offered to portray herself in both a family version of their adventure…and a version for mature audiences only.
Kris did not look back as she left Eden with little or no plan to ever return.
But that did leave the question of where to go.
“Abby, have you filed your report on my misadventures yet?”
“I need to send it out today. Do you want to review it?”
“Nope, just send Nelly a copy.”
Jack raised an eyebrow at how Kris was avoiding Captain Drago’s question. “You should check back in with General McMorrison on Wardhaven.”
“Yes, I imagine that I should,” Kris said with a sigh. “But I’ve got this ship and a batch of Marines. Why should I let Mac or Grampa Ray decide what I do next?”
“Isn’t that what Naval officers usually do: whatever kings and generals decide?” Penny said.
“And look what that has got us,” Kris pointed out.
“There is that,” Penny agreed.
“I think my little girl done grown up.” Gramma Ruth beamed.
“Anywhere you’d like to go, Gramma?”
“I been a lot of places. Some I can even go back to,” Ruth said with a sly smile. “Why don’t you surprise me?”
“Set a course for Chance,” Kris decided. Then she glanced at Abby. “I suspect if Grampa Ray or Mac don’t like it, we’ll hear soon enough.”
Admiral Sandy Santiago at Chance had orders waiting for Kris by the time the Wasp docked. Neither Kris nor the admiral felt any rush to comply, so they spent a pleasant morning bringing each other up-to-date on the recent happenings in their lives. Kris found several interesting things in Sandy’s report on the comings and goings of her command, Naval District 41, out here on the Rim.
The efforts to crack the newly discovered alien worlds were not going well. No surprise there.
In a similar vain, just about any ship that could hold air were being chartered and sent out to try to duplicate Kris’s success at finding new worlds. Other alien worlds. Anything.
That also was no surprise. Before Grampa Ray’s Treaty of Wardhaven there had been a similar explosion of discovery.
And humanity stumbled on the Iteeche and had almost been made extinct.
That was something to think about, but Kris begged off of lunch with Sandy and instead dropped down to Last Chance to see a certain Ron Torn.
He invited Kris to dinner at his favorite steakhouse and introduced her to Amelia Blang, the daughter of the new ambassador from the Helvetican Confederacy.
Their wedding was in a week. Could Kris manage to attend?
Kris was pretty sure her heart did not skip a beat. Or at least not too many. And she did remember to breathe.
After only a moment’s reflection, Kris found that she must beg off. She had immediate orders that would have her moving on before then.
The next day, the Wasp boosted for Jump Point Alpha at 1.5 g’s.
Another good boyfriend lost. At least, on the positive side, this time Kris would not have to add another bridesmaid’s dress to her collection.
61
The Wasp made a comfortable 1 g as it covered the distance between Jump Point Beta and High Wardhaven. The entire time, the awaited message scheduling a meeting between Kris et al and General McMorrison and whoever showed up sober never came.
So Kris started planning how she wanted the meeting to go.
“Abby, we’ve got to get you in uniform,” Kris said at breakfast.
“Why forever should we?” Abby said.
“Oh, Auntie, I think you’d look great in uniform,” Cara said. “Can I have one, too? Everyone else has one.”
“The captain doesn’t,” Abby pointed out.
“Yes, but he’s special.”
Having a twelve-year-old girl at the breakfast table…or dinner table…or just on board was a whole new experience for Kris. Course, at twelve, Kris had spent most of her time drunk. Thank heavens Cara did not have any vices like that.
Still, the girl was twelve.
“Now about that uniform,” Kris said, trying to wrestle the conversation back where she wanted it…and feeling very much like one of those bull riders she’d seen on South Continent.
“I don’t have a uniform,” Abby pointed out with a sharp edge.
“I could sew you one,” Nelly tossed out, ever helpful.
“You can sew?” came from several around the table.
“We have lasers aboard to cut out the cloth if someone will lay it out on a table for me. I can guide the sewing machine if someone works with me.”
“Me, me,” Cara squealed, raising her hand. “I’ve always wanted to sew and we could sew me some clothes. Something like pirates wear.”
“You are evil,” Abby muttered, scowling daggers Kris’s way. And left to find the cloth Nelly claimed the Wasp had in storage.
The Was
p docked with still no word from Main Navy.
Kris decided two could play that game. She assembled her usual suspects. Jack and Abby in khakis, Penny and Kris in undress whites.
Gramma Ruth avoided even being asked by muttering that she’d better go hunt up that rascal Trouble.
They took the beanstalk down, hailed a cab at the station, and made their way unannounced to General McMorrison’s office.
“He’s expecting you,” the secretary said without looking up. “Go right in.”
Which begged the question of exactly who was gaming who.
Kris took three steps into Mac’s office, and brought her little parade to a halt: Jack on her right, Penny and Abby on her left.
General Mac was at his desk, making a show of reading something. King Ray in civvies was sitting in the general’s visitor’s chair, turned around to face not Mac but the arrivals. A huge grin was spreading across his face.
On the other end of Mac’s desk, Admiral Crossenshield, Chief of Wardhaven Military Intelligence was digging out his wallet and passing a bill of unidentified value to the king.
“Abby, you’re in uniform,” King Ray beamed.
“A bit faster than one admiral expected,” Kris said, betting she knew the bet the admiral was paying off.
“Never underestimate my great-granddaughter,” the king said like any proud grampa.
“The day is coming when you’ll wish she wasn’t so smart,” Crossie said, sounding rather cross.
“Yes, like today,” Kris growled.
“You handled Eden just like I figured you would,” King Ray said.
“Is that why you didn’t give me some help? Like maybe tell me what I was headed into. Give me a chance to think through my options. Maybe get a few less people killed?”
“Is that what’s bothering you? For what it’s worth, the butcher bill on the Eden op is one of the lowest ever in a major political upheaval.” The king sounded like he’d done a check of his library, or more likely, of his soul, before he came to this meeting.
Kris Longknife Audacious Page 34
