Rita Longknife--Enemy in Sight

by Mike Shepherd

  “So why take the most direct route this time?” Becky Graven asked.

  “Maybe someone really needs that food and ammo,” Ray answered softly.

  “On that, I would bet money,” Rita said, just as softly.

  “So why rush back to here and just sit in orbit?” Rita asked no one. “Are there any shuttles dropping down from the station to the planet?”

  “No ma’am,” Sensors responded.

  “So,” Ray said. “Do you ask them what’s going on? And if they answer, will you believe them?”

  “That is the question?” Rita said, slowly. “Do I concentrate on the planet, with the whole squadron and maybe get the answers I’ve been looking for. Or do I split the squadron up again and go chasing after a ship that might, no matter how unlikely, be swinging around that station?” Rita spoke half to herself, half to Ray.

  Ray shrugged. “Did splitting the squadron work all that well last time?”

  They both knew the answer to that. And they were out well beyond the rim of human space where scout ships were disappearing. Did she really want to split her few ships up three different ways to cover the jumps and the planet?

  Rita knew her next decision might well be one she’d regret the rest of her life. Win, lose or draw, she made her call.

  “Inform the squadron to follow me to the planet. Communications, let’s start talking to them, shall we?”

  It took only a moment for Rita to get a series of questions headed toward the planet. No doubt, the answer would be a while in coming.

  When it arrived, it left Rita scratching her head.

  “Hello, Commodore Rita Nuu-Longknife of the Astute. I have the honor of being Second President Hong Ki Jin of the peaceful and harmonious colony LeMonte,” a thin, white haired and bearded oriental man said with a bow from the waist. “I regret that I cannot bring First President Constantine to the commlink. He was helping with the unloading of food from the Brannigan’s Special Ale yesterday and a load of tinned meats fell on him, killing him instantly. I hope I can be as helpful to you as he would have wanted to be.”

  The smile accompanying this doleful admission was as sincere as any Rita had ever seen bought at a five and dime store back on Wardhaven.

  But what it might have lacked in honest sincerity, it made up for with adamant intent.

  It’s my story and I’m sticking to it was, no doubt, solidly set in Mr. Hong’s mind.

  Then again, it might be the truth.

  “The food was needed for the colony. We had a shortfall in our initial planting. As for the ammunition,” the man shrugged, “you will excuse me if I do not discuss the defenses of our proud colony on an open channel. We do not know who may be listening, and, if you will excuse me for saying, we have only your word that you represent a legitimate government. Until I can see your papers, I must be cautious.”

  And the screen froze on an unctuous smile.

  “Off net,” Rita said, and the image vanished.

  Becky Graven, the peripatetic ambassador, came to stand beside Rita, on the side away from Ray, she was glad to note. “That man was Earth-born or my ear has gone tin on me,” she said.

  “Computer, analyze the pattern of speech of last transmission. Evaluate accent and place its likely origin,” Rita ordered.

  “The speaker is 99.64 percent likely from Earth with a 98.32 percent likelihood that his nationality is of the Korean peninsula within one hundred kilometers of Wonsan.”

  “Could we have found our missing colonists from Far Pusan?” Ray asked.

  “That seems likely,” Rita agreed.

  “But if that guy was kidnaped,” Becky said, “why isn’t he hollering for help?”

  That left the bridge team silent.

  “Maybe he likes the farm land,” came on net in Ruth Tordon’s voice. “I hope you don’t mind that I was following matters on the bridge, but with things like they are, I don’t want to be too far from a bed or the head.”

  “No,” Rita said, “feel free to lurk on any net . . . and lurk near any creature comforts my ship can offer. Remember, I was where you are not so very long ago.”

  “Well, if you really are dealing with farmers like my old man, assuming the land is good and things like the government can be managed decently, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t blast him off his farm with dynamite.”

  The three on the bridge eyed each other.

  “You notice there was no mention of Whitebred. Do you think our pirate king has met with a bit of regicide?” Ray said, not at all troubled by the thought.

  Rita eyed the screen. It now showed the planet they were headed toward. A basic space station orbited the planet with a lone ship.

  “Where’s the rest of the fleet that left with Whitebred?” she finally said. “Where’s the rest of the pirates? Do I dare split up my squadron to go chasing after them, and maybe find a bear with not much more than a rabbit trap?”

  Rita knew what she would have done as a brash young transport pilot. But she’d been shot out of space once and damn near killed, though she survived to grow older . . . and maybe wiser. She’d help her husband get in to see President Urm on a suicide mission, and survived. She had a husband she loved and a kid to return to.

  “Maintain course and acceleration,” Rita ordered. “Madame Ambassador, if you would help me come up with a second list of questions for Second President Hong, I would be very grateful. Ray, don’t you have some troopers that would love to hike about my ship, or train, or something. If we’re headed for a fight to recover two hundred tons of munitions, I sure want the guys behind you sharp.”

  And those around her moved to do her bidding.

  27

  “Mr. Hong, I am so glad you could meet with us,” Commodore Rita Nuu-Longknife said as the Second President, now wearing a lovely long green overcoat above baggy trousers, bowed to her aboard the space station.

  “It is my honor, and pleasure to be at your service. How may I help you?” he said, backing up the pier.

  Rita hoped he intended his words, but she could not help but note how empty the station was.

  “Your colony is not registered with the Society of Humanity,” she said, as casually as she could. “I was surprised to find you out here.”

  “No doubt we were a surprise,” the Second President said, rising to his full stature, a good five inches shorter than Rita. Ray towered over the fellow, but since the general was walking behind Rita, Mr. Hong did not seem to notice . . . or mind.

  “I hope you will understand, a new colony is a very expensive thing to begin, Commodore.”

  Rita sported the four stripes of a captain, but Mr. Hong was either unaware of her true rank, or had chosen to use the rank she had claimed in her introduction.

  “There are officials to bribe, or should I say fees to pay, and assessments on top of those. We are but a humble people from an Earth that is little more than bread and circuses for those who have the franchise and will vote for the old crook or the new crook. For those of us who labor in the fields and have no say, it is back-breaking and heart-breaking, and may I say, soul-breaking. We chose to leave all that behind us and strike out on our own, to succeed or die by the work of our own hands.”

  The man spoke as if Rita should feel honored to be talking to someone of such commitment. Rita checked to see that her wallet was still in her pocket, so to speak, and dialed her sympathetic responses way down.

  “So how did you manage all this?” Rita said, “A space station, no less.”

  “This poor thing,” the politician said, indicating the station with a sweep of his hand. “We were offered it at a very low price when a client, after ordering it, chose to trade up to a larger one. We were able to use the station as the transportation out here for most of us. A most uncomfortable situation. The Ale was the only ship we could manage to acquire. It has served us, but only barely, and I am not at all sure it will serve us much more. Possibly, your discovery of us is to our mutual advantage. While we are making do rat
her well so far, no doubt there will be a need to trade in our future that we may need assistance to arrange.”

  “You just shipped in fifteen thousand tons of food,” Ray put in from behind Rita.

  “Yes, our first crop is now harvested. We are not yet willing to slaughter our pigs, so while they grow and give us more piglets, the canned hams were dearly needed, if far too dearly obtained. Poor Constantine.”

  Yes, poor Constantine who isn’t here to answer any questions, Rita thought, but said, “Do you mind if some of my crew take a look at the Brannigan’s Special Ale?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Hong said, and looked so sad to be disagreeing. “It is our ship and its condition shall remain a trade secret. However, I can give you access to its full log, both of the trip out here from Earth and its latest voyage to, what was it, Savannah, am I correct?”

  “Savannah,” Rita agreed.

  And that was how every conversation with Mr. Hong, the Second President, went. Effusively sincere, but reluctantly unhelpful. Ray did get to drop some of his troops down to get in some dirt work.

  What Trouble reported back was a colony reduced to basics: dirt trails, log buildings and outhouses out back with not much else in front. Still, the farmers were happy as they put in one crop or harvested another. Everyone Trouble and his troopers talked to was happy to be here. Those that knew anything about their government, and they were few, had nothing but praise for it.

  “That sound too good to be true?” Rita asked Trouble over the net.

  “No way I’d dispute that with you, Commodore.”

  “Have you heard anything about Admiral Whitebred?” Ray put in.

  “I ask, General. All I get are blank stares, even from the ones that admit to knowing they have a Second President named Hong. Name recognition for politicians is pretty slim down here.”

  “That will be their problem, come election time,” Becky said, dryly.

  “But what is it for us now?” Rita said. Something was gnawing at her. She did not like the feel of it.

  “I think we’ve got a brick wall here, Rita,” Ray said softly.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Trouble, recover back aboard.”

  “On our way, ma’am.”

  “XO, advise the squadron. We sortie tomorrow at 0900.”

  “On it, skipper.”

  Rita turned to Ray, and they slowly walked back to their quarters.

  “Ray, I think I have made a major mistake.”

  “In what way, Dear?” he said, listening, really listening to her with his ears, eyes and whole face.

  “I should have split up the squadron and continued the pursuit of that ship.”

  Ray nodded. “But you had that ship in port. And you and I both know that dividing your forces is never a good idea. Somewhere out here are twenty plus pirate ships. And who knows what firepower the alien ships have that are making our scout vanish? That’s the bitch about war, Honey. You make your choice. Sometimes it’s right. Sometimes it’s wrong. You never know, and dear God, there’s no such thing as a do-over.”

  Somewhere in that, Ray closed the door to their quarters. Somewhere in that, Rita folded herself into Ray’s strong arms.

  “I know all that, you big galoot,” she said to his chest. “It’s just I think I’ve just made the worst mistake of my life. And a horrible mistake for all humanity.”

  “I hope we haven’t,” Ray said.

  That was not the support Rita needed. Still, it was all she was likely to get today.

  Only tomorrow would tell her if her worst nightmare was about to come true.

  28

  Captain Ed Lehrer was relieved to hear that the Happy Highway Wench was back in system and leading a ship claiming to be the Brannigan’s Special Ale towards a quick orbit. He was dirtside, as he had been for too much of the time since Grace left.

  It wasn’t just to see her smiling face that had him there when her shuttle grounded on the sand beneath the fort. He was hungry.

  “How’d it go?” he asked her as she strutted from the shuttle. “How’s your arm?” he appended when he realized the cast was gone, but the arm was still in a brightly colored sling that he’d mistaken for just her usually flamboyant dress.

  “Things went better than my arm is doing. I don’t think I’ll be slapping anyone silly with it anytime soon, if ever.” She turned as boys started lugging crates marked Canned Meat and sacks of potatoes from the shuttle.

  “I got what you sent me for,” she said, one hand resting proudly on her hip.

  “And ammo?”

  Two men came out with a large box slung between them. Stenciled on it were the identifiers for military grade rifle ammo.

  “Calico Jack will so be glad to see that,” Ed said. “We’ve about shot ourselves dry.”

  “Things been that bad?”

  Ed scowled as he nodded. “Worse. We thought all those crates up at the mine were their food. It turns out a lot of them were explosives. We didn’t notice until quite a few of them had walked away after midnight. We stopped that once we knew it, but we’ve been getting a lot of those mining explosives thrown back at us.”

  He and Grace started the walk back into town as a second shuttle dropped into the bay in a spray of water that left the air laden with the smell of salt water.

  “The food’s been tight. There’s stuff we can eat, but going into the jungle to find it is worth your life. We probe at them. They probe at us. It seems every day there’s more dead. Some of us. Some of them. It never ends.”

  “Don’t they know when to give up?” Grace asked.

  “And if any of them did, how’d we know they had? We had the big fellows with us for a week or two, wasn’t it? How many words of their jabber did you catch?”

  Grace shrugged, then winced. “If they motioned to their beak with one of their hands, I took it that they were thirsty or hungry. Of the noise coming out of that beak, your guess was as good as mine.”

  “Yeah, so we kill them and they kill us, and in between we’ve mined some good silver and panned some nice gold. By the way, how’d the exchange of gold for goods go? Anyone give you any trouble?”

  Grace laughed. “Anyone turn down gold nuggets you mean?”

  “Stupid question, huh?”

  “Very stupid.”

  “Did you have any trouble? I was worried you’d be followed back.”

  “I was followed, but I lost them at LeMonte.”

  “They found LeMonte?”

  “They found a nice unregistered colony at LeMonte with a lot of happy people saying nice things about their life and ‘I don’t know nothin’ about no pirates, ma’am’.”

  “Did that really work?”

  “I lost my tail at LeMonte and I didn’t see hide nor hair of them since.”

  They arrived at the Captains’ table ahead of a batch of boys carrying food and ammo. Captains were waiting for them. More arrived when jugs of rum started clinking.

  “We got plenty for everyone. There’s more down by the landing,” Grace shouted for the captains, and the pirates lurking in the shadows. Those lurking included a lot of the farmers as well.

  Lots of them took off for the shuttle landing.

  “Calico Jack will have to make sure some reliable sentries are posted,” Ed said, and stepped out to find Jack and make the arrangements. That done, he and Calico rejoined Grace.

  She was eyeing the captains as they swilled their preferred drink while the hams roasted over an open fire and the potatoes baked.

  “We’re missing a few captains, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah,” Ed admitted. “Black Bart and Ben Hornigold took a couple of skippers out that don’t much care for messing in the mud, as they said. Ben found a rug, or wall hanging or something at the last place they raided and he thinks it’s a star map. Me, I think they’re chasing around with a treasure map that don’t show a thing, but they weren’t providing all that many trigger-pullers and you couldn’t count on their lasers to work if we nee
ded them to slash and burn some jungle, so they’re gone and any gold or silver we take out while they gone, they don’t get a cut.”

  “I guess that’s good,” Grace said, and pulled a jug of rum from a passing kid.

  Outside, a mortar woofed as a round went out.

  “Calico, we got problems?” Grace asked.

  “Not a one, now that you’re back, honey,” he said, sidling up to her and giving her a peck on the cheek. “I got ammo. We can drop a few rounds out there to let them big bastards know we’re here and they ain’t.”

  “Good,” Grace said.

  Then there was a huge explosion.

  “Shit, that don’t sound like a mortar round,” Calico Jack said before Ed could.

  They bolted for the door. Outside, to the left, a huge fire was raging as the roofs of several buildings and a few tents burned. As they watched, another large sack of something arched in, sputtering fuses burning. It landed on a tent and scattered flaming liquid over it and a dozen tents around it. Screaming men and women ran out, many in flames.

  Some remembered to drop and roll out the fire. Most didn’t. They kept running until someone knocked them down or they fell down dead and still flaming.

  “To the walls,” someone was shouting.

  “To the walls,” became the common cry.

  “Oh, shit,” Ed said as his commlink came to life, then he grabbed Grace with one hand, Calico with the other.

  “What the hell?” Calico said.

  “We got bigger trouble,” Ed said. “My Number Two says Black Bart just jumped in system. He ain’t heading down here, but making almost two gees for the jump to Port Elgin.”

  “How come?” Grace asked.

  “He ain’t saying, but I’ll give you two guesses.”

  “Has he got something on his tail?” Grace demanded.

  “I don’t know, but I’d head for the shuttles, if I were you,” Ed said.

  “You do that,” Calico Jack said. “I’ll try to hold here. Get me more ammo.”