Kris Longknife: Defiant: Defiant

by Mike Shepherd

  “This happen to you folks often?” Abby asked. “I mean, balls is something I can handle. Being yanked around on some fancy electronic chain, having to drop everything and go see the king. You do it every day?”

  “Grampa Ray’s just a huggy bear,” Kris said, suspecting whatever her great-grandfather was up to at the moment probably had more in common with the annihilation of Iteeche fleets and policy for the human race than what dessert to serve at tomorrow’s charity auction. First a leading General, then the President of the Society of Humanity during the worst of the Iteeche Wars, he’d hammered together the policies that had guided humanity for eighty years afterwards. There were shelves of books full of his exploits . . . his and Great-grampa Trouble’s. Kris had grown up in the shadow of that distant, legendary man.

  Only recently had she come to know the man of flesh and blood behind the legend. And she’d helped talk her great-grandfather into taking a crown. Talked him into trying to lasso together Wardhaven and a growing number of planets into an alliance when it seemed like the six hundred planets of human space were intent only on flying apart.

  “Wonder what he could be wanting from a disgraced Naval officer who’s been relieved of her command,” Abby asked.

  “You have such a wonderful way with words.” Kris sighed.

  “Well, do we look at this next place, or do I head for the palace?” Jack asked.

  “It’s just a hotel,” Kris pointed out.

  “Honey,” Abby sighed, “if a king lives there, it’s a palace, be it ever so hovel. Child, you have to get past this family thing and start seeing the world the way us poor folks do.”

  “The palace, Sir John,” Kris said.

  “Jack,” her driver corrected.

  “Listen, if I can still be stuck being a princess after they’ve hijacked my ship and hauled me off to the brig, shouldn’t any unemployed hired gun wandering around with me be at least a knight in shining armor? Remember, Jack, you gave up being an honest working man.”

  “She has a certain logic, Jack,” Abby agreed.

  “Tilly’s twerp factor is getting lower and lower on my baloney meter,” Jack said, glancing at his watch. “Maybe it’s not too late for me to make my first shift.”

  “Let’s find out what Grampa Ray wants first. Never can tell, it might cover room and board.”

  3

  “Your Highness, you are expected,” the security agent said as Kris presented herself at the door of Grampa Ray’s penthouse suite. “Jack, I thought you were on leave?” he added as the agent’s name apparently came up right after Kris’s.

  “So did I. You can never tell when you work around Longknifes, can you?”

  “So true,” the agent agreed.

  “I’ll just find a nice magazine to read,” Abby said, heading for a chair in the waiting room.

  “She’s going in, too,” Kris said. “Abby Nightengale.”

  “You are on the list,” the agent said.

  “Me?” Abby said, bringing up a startled hand for a dramatic wave at her throat. “A lowly body servant?”

  “Disarming her may take a half hour,” Jack drawled.

  “You wrong me!” Abby pouted.

  “My orders aren’t to disarm any of you,” the agent said, with a touch more relief than Kris would have expected.

  Jack’s frown was solid professional disapproval.

  “His Highness said that if he was willing to have her carry all that artillery around Princess Kris, it would be damn undignified of him to demand we frisk her for his old bones,” the agent said in defense. “Now, you are to go right in.”

  “What artillery?” the maid protested.

  Jack seemed still undecided. “Sound’s like Grampa,” Kris said. Behind her, the elevator opened to disgorge Penny and Tom.

  “Good,” the agent said. “The party’s complete.”

  “I’ve never been so grateful to be beeped in my life,” Penny said, breathless.

  “And if it hadn’t been Grampa Ray, Mother would have had you ignore it,” Kris said to Penny.

  Tom frowned. “You know, I think she might have.”

  “His Majesty is in his study. Your computers will show you the way,” the agent said, taking his seat behind his desk.

  Nelly told them to go right, go left, through that door. The suite had taken on more than the usual hotel furnishings. One room was shelves from floor to ceiling covered with replicas of the ships, armored suits, and ground vehicles of the Iteeche Wars, backed up with paintings of battle scenes. There were also pictures of staffs, both those who survived their battles and those who died to a man and woman trying to stem the tide. Kris wondered if Grampa normally kept a room like this in his home, or if he’d put this up to impress his visitors now that he was back in politics. Or to remind himself.

  She’d have to decide whether to ask Grampa about that.

  The final room Nelly directed them into was a workroom, with some bookshelves for real bound books, but mostly screens for net news reports or private news outlets. A large wooden desk was piled high with flimsies and readers. In front of it several couches and chairs formed a conversation circle around a table that might or might not be simply wood. Grampa Ray wore slacks and a short-sleeved shirt. He looked all of his hundred and twenty years, maybe more, as he eyed a reporter on one screen. The man was replaced by scenes from the Naval yard at the station orbiting above their head. The fleet was in port, but supply trucks were moving. A lot of ships were going someplace.

  Grampa scowled, silenced the screen, and turned toward them. By the time he faced Kris, he was smiling and seemed fifty years younger. “Thanks for dropping everything to make an old man happy,” he said, waving them at the couches and coming around his desk to take a comfortable chair in their circle.

  “Depends on what you want,” Kris said, settling into the chair across from him. Penny and Tom got comfortable on a couch. Abby took the couch across from them. Jack chose to stand behind Kris, facing two of the three doors. He must hate that he couldn’t keep an eye on all three.

  No, Kris spotted a reflection of the third door in a blank screen. Jack had managed to get an eyeball on all three.

  There were few things Kris would not happily give her Grampa. However, if he’d hauled her up here to talk to her about not causing Father trouble during this election, or not exposing Grampa Al for the slumlord he was, she and Grampa Ray were gonna have their first go at head butting.

  “Most of the time, I forget how old I am. Then I get a message like this, and I remember,” Grampa Ray said, his fingers tapping the one reader he’d brought with him from the desk.

  “Back in the first Iteeche dustup, before we realized what a mess we were in, back when I was just a general fighting what I thought was a bunch of pirates, I had a detachment of special ops that were, well, too damn good for their own good.

  “Hikila was a new planet. It didn’t have a lot of troopers, but the Special Boats Squadron made up in imagination and cussedness what they lacked in numbers. They were good. And I used them. Used them up. It’s amazing that any lived to send me an invitation to their bedside at this late date.” He snorted.

  “But Queen Ha’iku’lani is the kind of woman that fifty men will die for so she can die in bed. I wonder what she thinks now of that kind of real estate business,” he said to himself.

  Kris felt embarrassed to be let into such an intimate moment. She wanted to look away. Tom and Penny were. Abby was.

  Kris couldn’t. She was a Longknife. If she followed in the footsteps of her great-grandfather, a hundred years from now she’d be muttering such questions. Did she want to? Wouldn’t now be a good time to head for the door?

  The king shivered, glanced around as if just noticing the others, and gave them a wan smile. “Sorry. If things were a bit quieter, I’d take a week off and go hold an old war buddy’s hand, help her get ready to meet the ghosts waiting for us on the other side. Any decent world would make such a duty the highest priority for
old farts like me.” He flashed Kris a smile that was only sad around the edges.

  “But someone I know and love talked me into putting back on the old battle harness, so just now, Wardhaven’s got a caretaker government that doesn’t know how to spell the word much less follow those limits. And I hear that Boynton has a fleet of undetermined origins headed their way with no declared intent. And the latest rumor I’m getting from this temporary Wardhaven government is that all or part of the fleet may sail for Boynton real soon now. It doesn’t sound like a good time for me to take leave. What do you think, hon?”

  Kris swallowed something that might have been a lump in her throat. She hadn’t thought of things like this when she’d urged her Grampa to accept the kingship of now ninety planets. She’d seen the honor, somewhat ambiguous and indefinite, but an honor, nethertheless. And a way to help the people on ninety planets keep afloat amid the wreckage of the Society of Humanity. Maybe she hadn’t looked at it from his angle as carefully as she should have. She certainly hadn’t spotted the downside that it would stick her with this princess thing. She was learning that lots of things happened while she was making her plans.

  “I guess you’ll have to stay here,” Kris said.

  “Which means I need to send someone in my stead to help an old friend die,” Grampa said, his eyes going out of focus. “There will be more to it. Hikila has developed quite an economy in the last fifty years. It needs to come into United Sentients. They haven’t voted yet. The coronation of their new queen would be a good time to make that call.”

  Kris nodded. “I’ll do what I can to bring them in.”

  “Hopefully without all the complications that sprang up on Turantic. I hear some insurance companies are going to court over who pays for repairs to the space station and elevator.”

  Kris tried to grin. “Oh, for the good old days, Grampa, when all you had to do was kick butt and take names. Now you have to file legal briefs and testify under oath for a week.”

  “Or three years,” King Ray snorted with good humor. “For what I’m sending you into, Kris, you’ll need political intel. I’ve busted Penny loose for you. I hope you don’t mind me sending you off world just before your wedding.”

  “It’s all right, Your Majesty. Kris’s mother was telling me every little thing I need to do for a simple garden wedding.”

  “Lord God forbid that woman gets her hooks into anybody’s wedding,” the king said.

  “Any chance you could, sir? Forbid it?” Kris asked.

  “I warned your father he was marrying a woman with a whim of iron. He laughed at what he took for a joke. I haven’t noticed him laughing that much around his wife of late. No, I’m afraid all I can hope for is that with Penny off planet, she’ll get distracted and wander off into someone else’s business.”

  “Can you get Tom off planet with me? We made a great team on Turantic,” Penny wheedled, Lieutenant to king.

  Kris started to shake her head, but Grampa smiled sardonically. “Actually, I can. Apple of your eye those tiny boats may be, Kris, but the word I’m getting is that Pandori’s going to sell them off as private runabouts.”

  Kris’s mouth dropped open, but it was Tom who spoke first. “Didn’t you say they were sending the fleet to Boynton? What will they have left to defend Wardhaven?”

  “ ‘No one would even think of attacking Wardhaven,’ ” Grampa said, even getting Pandori’s hand wave right.

  “And you gave this bunch full power,” Kris said.

  Grampa sighed. “Believe me, they didn’t talk like that when they came in here. And they did have that 53 percent majority vote in Parliament. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Well, you kids do be careful,” Abby said. “I hear being around one of those damn Longknifes can be dangerous.”

  “You’re going, too,” Kris said.

  “I can’t wait to count your steamer trunks and see what you pull out of them this time,” Jack drawled.

  “I don’t know why I’m going,” Penny said. “Have you ever noticed a Longknife to pay attention to the advice they get?”

  “Ouch,” came from both king and princess.

  “You’re going to have to get away quickly,” the king said. “I’ve still got the Halsey seconded to me, but if she’s not away from the pier fast, she may get orders, and if I have to go to Pennypacker to straighten out conflicting orders with a lot of Longknife names on them, I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “ ’Tis a wonderful thing to be a pirate king,” Tom sang.

  “You’ve obviously never been one,” King Ray muttered. “Oh, Kris, the skipper of the Halsey is Sandy Santiago. One of those Santiagos. She’ll look after you good.”

  Now it was Kris’s turn to answer with a soft, “Oh.” Grampa Ray’s political career had been launched when he survived assassinating the Unity tyrant President Urm. It had been in all the papers. Only recently had Kris learned just how it happened that Grampa lived through delivering a suicide bomb. It might be interesting to hear how the story was told among the family of the man who actually walked the bomb in.

  Jack and Abby were dispatched to Nuu House to pack. Penny and Tom headed out to do the same.

  Kris settled in as they left. “I was afraid you’d called me over here to set me straight about Father and Grampa Al.”

  “I know the hot water your old man is in. What’s my son’s beef with you, girl?”

  Kris told him about finding out she owned slums. “Oh, ho ho,” Grampa Ray chortled. “The old boy hasn’t been keeping good enough check on his middlemen, has he now.”

  “Middlemen?”

  “Kris, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I can’t do everything. You can’t do everything, and though he’ll deny it, my son can’t do everything, try as he does. Little Alex has a bad case of micromanagement, but even he can’t be everywhere. So some of his second-, third-level VPs take shortcuts. Folks do that. You find them out, fire them, and put in new people. Hope my boy takes this for a learning experience.”

  Then a message came in, and family time was over, and Grampa Ray was back up to his earlobes juggling business from ninety planets and firing off his best advice. “Advice, gal. Nice not to give orders anymore. Just advice.” In between he remembered the Iteeche Wars for Kris. The operations he’d sent Ha’iku’lani and her Special Boat Squadron on were heavy on his mind. He could name the planets and the dead as if it was only yesterday.

  But it was the present that bothered Kris. “It’s like someone is nibbling at us. This planet has that beef with that planet, and suddenly they’re using warships to settle them.”

  “No, Kris, not planets. People. This group here. That group there. Always look for the groups behind the actions. And notice how much of it is just posturing and threatening. Threats work better than shooting,” Grampa pointed out.

  “Take Flan, or Yacolt, or Mandan only last week. Greenfeld tells them they really want to join their new alliance . . . and runs a squadron of battleships across their orbit to overawe them. And Peterwald gets a planet with no messy rubble.”

  “That why Pandori is rushing the fleet to Boynton?”

  Grampa shook his head. “Boynton’s practically in our alliance. We’re not trying to overawe them. We’re trying to protect them, and we don’t need nearly that large a force. I think Pandori’s doing it to get votes this election.”

  “And Hikila?”

  “They just need some hand-holding. A bit of encouragement. I know them. They’re our kind of people. Oh, and don’t you let looks deceive you. On the surface they may look primitive. Take a second look. Ask the second question. They’ll surprise you.”

  Jack called. They were packed and waiting downstairs. Kris joined him and Abby. “How many trunks?”

  “I counted eight when we left the house,” Jack said.

  “It’s not like we’re going to rescue anyone,” Abby sniffed.

  “Count again when we go through security.”

  But Kris
got distracted at the space elevator. Penny and Tom went through, no problem. Kris ran her ID card through to prove who she was and pay her fare . . . and got beeped.

  “Card’s no good, ma’am,” the young man in the booth said. Kris ran it through again; same result. “It’s not the card, ma’am. It’s you. You ain’t cleared to go up. To leave the planet,” the fellow said, turning a screen around for her and Jack to look at. “See, you’re limited to planet travel.”

  “King Ray has ordered me on a diplomatic mission,” Kris said, eyeing the report on her. “I’ll be back before my court date in . . . three weeks!”

  “Delayed again,” Jack said.

  “They really want to drag it out,” Tom said.

  “You that Princess Longknife,” the gate attendant said. “I saw you on the news last night. You did a lot of good stuff on Olympia. Pretty mean of them to do this to you.”

  “You know about Olympia?”

  “Researched it for a college paper for night school,” he said, glancing at the screen. “Three weeks. Where you headed?”

  “Hikila. Be back in two weeks. Maybe less.”

  “Why don’t you and that fellow behind you go through at the same time. You know. One swipe, two walks.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “How much trouble can I get in if you get back in time?”

  “Joey,” Kris said, reading his name tag. “Everyone who gets too close to me gets in trouble.” Jack nodded vigorously.

  “You just go ahead, ma’am. As you said, King Ray wants you somewhere. Why should Wardhaven Transit stand in your way?”

  Jack flashed his badge as he ran his card through. Joey whistled as his metal detectors did their detecting thing. “You are taking good care of her, ain’t you.” And Kris was through.

  Abby followed, leading eight steamer trunks. Kris counted as they rolled by. They made it as a ferry was locking down.

  The Halsey was also just about to seal locks as they reported to the Junior Officer of the Deck. He frowned at the baggage and called for a quartermaster detail to secure it. Abby pulled a smaller subset of luggage from one trunk for her and Kris, and they all followed the JG forward to the wardroom.