Kris Longknife: Intrepid

by SHEPHERD, MIKE

  Krätz shrugged. “It is the season for those things.”

  “So, seven and a half hours. How many ships can you get under way?” Kris asked, eyeing the Greenfeld captain.

  Captain Krätz shook his head. “We told State Security that this dinky station’s reactor would need a month to boil enough plasma to power up the fleet, but no. ‘One of your ship’s engineers might send his reactor critical and try to kill the First Citizen. ’ Every ship had to go cold steel. They are all a bunch of idiots,” Krätz roared.

  With effort, he recovered his temper. “And now it seems that some of them are traitors as well. We have been set up.”

  Captain Drago cleared his throat. “With all respect to the captain, there is one ship that can get under way.”

  “Who?” Captain Krätz demanded.

  “Us,” Captain Drago said, with a sly smile.

  The Greenfeld captain frowned. Then his eyes grew wide for a moment before he growled, “You wouldn’t do that?”

  “The Wasp was rigged for that procedure last overhaul,” Drago shot back. “We are an exploration ship. There was no way to foretell what our needs might be out beyond the Rim.”

  “That’s insane. Worse, it’s suicidal and mass murder.”

  “Not when properly done with modern power supplies.”

  Kris felt like she was watching a Ping-Pong match. Only she had no idea what it was that the two men were batting back and forth. “Would one of you mind,” she shouted into the rapid fire of words, “telling the rest of us what you are talking about?”

  For a moment longer, the two captains stood eyeing each other. Then Captain Krätz gave a curt wave at Captain Drago.

  Drago, with a confident half bow, began. “Our four landers have antimatter cells. We can remove them and rig two of them to our auxiliary power supply generators. Those two will get the magnetic containment field up. Then we dump the other two into the main reactor and jump-start the fusion process,” he said, proud as the calico cat that swallowed the Cheshire canary.

  Kris eyed the only slightly controlled rage on the other captain’s face. “Is your Surprise rigged with such capability?”

  “Hell no,” he shot back. “It would be a violation of Society of Humanity rules as well as Greenfeld regulations. For the last sixty years, since the old Canopus blew up herself and half the Borden station, it’s been illegal. A hundred thousand died in one second.”

  Kris walked away from the two captains. One offered a solution . . . that might be suicide and murder. The other offered no solution . . . and demanded that this one not be tried. Kris found herself staring at a very pale Victoria Peterwald.

  “Vicky, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Your Highness.”

  “Talk to me, Vicky. I need to know something about what you’re thinking.”

  “Okay, Kris,” the young woman said, and took a deep breath. “I want to save my dad. Other people may hate him, but he’s my dad. Maybe not the best one around, but he’s all the dad I have. How do we do it?”

  There it was. A plea from a younger Peterwald to save the elder. A plea made by a Peterwald to a Longknife. Capulet to Montague. Do I accept it? Kris asked herself.

  Stupid question. Her head was in the same noose. Let that starship smash into South Continent, and there’d be rocks and wreckage all over the place. Not to mention certain gun-happy fellows in black uniforms oh so certain that Kris had caused it.

  With a sigh, Kris winked at Vicky. Watch and learn, my friend. She whirled to face the captains.

  “Captain Krätz, how long would it take one, just one of these ships hanging on to this station to get under way?”

  “Twelve hours. Maybe more. This station is a piece of shoddy junk. We’d have to jump up the electric production to get the containment field of a ship up and running, then get a containment chute from the station’s reactor to the ship. Most of the plasma would cool in the chute, so it would take a lot of plasma to get the reactor critical. Then you’ve got to grow the reaction mass, get your own electricity generators going.” Krätz’s voice trailed down into a whisper as he spoke. He finished shaking his head. “Some son of a bitch set us up.”

  “So, you are set up,” Kris agreed. “Somewhere about two-thirds of the way into powering up one ship, her dad gets suddenly dead. Out of curiosity, what happens next? Does your ensign get promoted to First Citizen?”

  Vicky’s eyes got wide with that question. The captain studied the polished toes of his shoes. “I don’t know. You know our attitude toward women.” Now his gaze rose to take in his JO. “But I’d fight to my dying breath to protect you.”

  “I don’t want your dying breath,” Vicky snapped. “I want to save my dad.”

  The captain’s shoulders slumped. “That I cannot do. No one in the fleet can do that.”

  “But someone in the Wardhaven fleet is willing to make a good solid try,” Vicky growled low. “A Longknife is willing to risk her neck to save a Peterwald!”

  “And maybe kill us all.”

  “You just told me that I’m not likely to outlive my dad for more that a couple of months. Strange, Captain, that is one thing we can agree on. Maybe someday I could tame the Palace with a whip and a gun and a gallows working overtime, but not now. Not today. We need to save my father.”

  Vicky opened her arms, pleading, “Captain, please help these people save him.”

  “And if they fail?”

  “None of us will be any deader than we’re likely to be this time next year.”

  For a long moment, Captain Krätz continued to shake his head. Then he turned to Kris. “Your Highness, what can I do to help?”

  49

  One did not often get permission to blow up a space station and the squadron of ships attached. Kris felt no sense of elation, since that was a prospect she hoped to avoid.

  She turned to Drago. “Get this ship under way—ASAP.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am. I have had men stripping the antimatter pods from the landers. They should be done soon.”

  “Two have been off-loaded, Captain,” Sulwan reported.

  “Have them plugged into the emergency generators,” Captain Drago ordered.

  “No,” came from around Kris’s neck. “The pods that will be fed into the reactors need to be carefully aligned and balanced for the dump,” Nelly said. “That’s your critical path. The auxiliary power is pretty much a standard rig.”

  “Captain?” Kris said, raising an eyebrow. Around her, quite a few eyebrows were bouncing off the overhead.

  “Let’s do it the lady’s way,” he ordered,

  “Nelly, are there any scientists that can help you on this?” Kris asked her computer.

  “A few; I’ve alerted them to get down to Engineering. There are several assumptions about the status of the antimatter that we will need to create if they are not already so.”

  “You go, gal,” Kris said, then, confident that the technical was in the best putative hands available, she turned to Captain Krätz. “Certainly, we’ll have to advise the port authorities that we are getting under way.”

  “Even a blind man would notice what we’re attempting.”

  “When do we have to tell them?”

  The captain mulled Kris’s question for half a second. “Usually it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

  “So I’ve observed,” Kris agreed.

  “However, I’m not sure that I’d apply that rule, what with all the security paranoids running around the station just now. Sudden moves could have very immediate and violent results.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Let me talk to my political officer,” Krätz said, and tapped a few buttons on his wrist unit. “Sooner or later we’ll have to bring them in on this.” Nothing happened for a long moment, leaving the captain frowning at his wrist. “What call is he taking that is more important than mine?”

  He was still frowning when a hurried voice came on. “Sorry
, Captain, I have Lieutenant General Boyng on the line, sir. May I pass him to you, sir?” hardly sounded like a question.

  Captain Krätz turned white as a sheet. Behind him, Vicky went up on tiptoes with glee. “Uncle Eddie. He’ll help.”

  Those two reactions told Kris all she needed to know about this new man walking into her life.

  “Put the captain’s call on-screen,” Kris ordered.

  And found herself facing a thin-faced man whose appearance could make a hatchet look dull. His pristine black uniform was crisp, with more sharp edges than military law allowed. Kris went down his ribbons . . . they told her nothing. Greenfeld State Security’s awards had nothing to do with the rest of their military.

  Kris made a mental note to herself to save this call. Ten to one, this would be the first time Admiral Crossenshield got a look at his opposite number.

  That, of course, assumed Kris got out of here.

  There was no time like the present to start getting out of here. “General, I am Lieutenant Longknife, Princess of Wardhaven. I and my staff have been examining the behavior of the starliner Dedicated Workers of Tourin. It is our opinion that it is on a suicide dive into South Continent, intent on assassinating your First Citizen. It must be stopped.”

  Kris paused. She was getting no reaction from Hatchet Face. No reaction at all. You’d think that announcing a plot was afoot to kill someone’s beloved boss would get a blink.

  Not from this guy.

  “Go on,” he said.

  Not on my dime, Kris thought. “What conclusions have you and your staff drawn from the behavior of this starliner?” This is a conversation we’re having. I talk. You talk. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?

  The general finally did blink. “The liner’s behavior is out of the usual. However, the drill presently going on in your ship is also unusual. This makes us wonder if you are not intent on some suicide mission.” The words came out as cold as ice. Kris had met a few cold-blooded people. Now she faced an ice man.

  “There are two faults in that logic, General.”

  “Would you care to enumerate my errors?”

  Kris raised one finger, not giving in to the temptation to make it the middle one. “First, you know from all the attempts made on my life that there isn’t a suicidal bone in my body. I very much like being alive and will fight to stay that way.”

  “So it would seem. However, things might change. High objectives might be worth a high price.”

  “Not in my book. Secondly, your First Citizen is down on South Continent. My blowing up this station would hardly ruffle the hair on his head.”

  “Yes, but you might be trading a queen for a queen.”

  Again the same cold calculations. Kris had had enough. “That does not even qualify as a jest, General. No offense, Vicky, but I am a full-fledged queen in this game the likes of your general and my admiral play. You are at best a pawn, maybe someday to be a queen, but you have a way to go.”

  “No offense taken,” Vicky said. “Now, Uncle Eddie, are we going to sit here arguing who might be doing something while doing nothing for my dad? Are the rumors true that you’d just as soon see him dead? Is that why you sit here jabbering while time ticks away from the one ship that could save his life?”

  Before, Kris had considered the general stiff as a board. Under Vicky’s upbraiding, he became as solid as marble. “It was necessary for me to assure myself that a treacherous Longknife was not playing us for fools. They’ve done that often enough.”

  “That is why I’m aboard. I have satisfied myself that this ship can do this difficult evolution,” Vicky shot back.

  “Maybe you would like State Security’s best troops to take over the ship and do what is necessary.”

  “Eddie, when I need your State Security hacks to gun down a few hundred unarmed peasants, I’ll call for you. I need a ship sailed and a battle fought and won. Let’s leave that to a crew that knows how to do it.”

  “Yes, Citizen Victoria,” the general said, almost bowing. “May I send a security team to assure your safety?”

  “If you wish, but make them few and see that they keep out of the way. Oh, and send us a different colonel. One that isn’t the dullest in your collection.”

  “Yes, Citizen Victoria. If you will excuse me, I will see that these things are done.”

  “One more thing. This ship needs power. Have the station give it full access to electricity.” She turned to her captain. “What about plasma?”

  “That would take too long. Electricity will do.”

  “To hear is to obey,” the general said, and rung off.

  The silence on the bridge was broken only by the necessary sounds of a spaceship. Pumps pumped, fans spun. Here and there, a light blinked. No one spoke.

  Captain Krätz was white as a sheet. Kris suspected that Vicky’s next lesson would have to come from her. “Ah, you may have been a little hard on that general, Ensign.”

  Vicky pursed her full lips. “You think so? Always when he came around the house, he was so friendly. Almost fawning. A new toy when I was young. A fancy dress later. After he was gone, Dad would say things like ‘two-faced.’ That comment about shooting peasants, that was one of Dad’s sayings.”

  “But did he ever say it to his face?” Kris asked.

  Vicky thought for a moment, then looked embarrassed. “You’re right. I don’t remember his actually saying it to him.”

  “You might want to tell your dad when next you see him that that particular cat is out of the bag,” Captain Krätz said.

  “We’re getting extra power from the station,” Sulwan announced. “I’m sending it straight to Engineering.”

  “Well, he’s carrying out his orders,” Captain Drago said. “Now let’s see how huge Princess Vicky’s ‘security team’ is.

  “I’m not a princess,” Vicky snapped, “except I guess you have a point. My dad is acting like an emperor or something, and I guess that makes me a princess or something.”

  “Mostly, it makes you a target or something,” Kris observed.

  Five minutes later, a large squad of black security types double-timed up to the gangway. Gunny met them with an equal-size Marine team and invited them aboard.

  “I know that colonel,” Vicky said, as they watched the exchange. “He’s got a head on his shoulders, and he uses it.”

  “Let’s see how good he is,” Kris said, and tapped her commlink. “Gunny, advise the new colonel that this ship will be doing three gees plus when we sortie to contact. High-gee stations will be limited by space on the bridge. If he wants, he may join Citizen Victoria on the bridge. You’ll need to find space and stations for his squad.”

  In silence, they watched the exchange between Gunny and he colonel. The colonel turned to talk to his captain, who listened, saluted, shouted orders, and led the squad after Sergeant Bruce.

  Gunny and the colonel watched them go, then boarded the Wasp together.

  “That went smoothly enough,” Vicky said.

  “Captain Drago,” Kris said, “we’re going to need some high-gee stations on this bridge real soon now.”

  “I’ve got a chief working on that. What station will you take, Your Highness?”

  “Weapons, Captain.” Someone would be taking a couple of shots at that liner with its five thousand souls aboard. Fast shots as the Tourin and Wasp passed each other at millions of klicks an hour. That was not something Kris would delegate.

  Kris turned toward the bridge hatch. “Sulwan, could you send the information on the Tourin to my Tac Room?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Nelly, if you have any spare capacity, could you search for more data on the Tourin.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” came back in a raw computer voice. Nelly was very busy.

  “Let me check with my political officer,” Captain Krätz said. “He may have information that has not been published.”

  He did, but he most certainly would not send it to a Wardhaven ship. Krätz tried r
easoning with him. That didn’t work. He was on the verge of losing his temper when Ensign Peterwald stepped forward and raised his commlink to her lips.

  “This is Citizen Victoria Peterwald, daughter to the First Citizen,” was hard enough to cut marble. “His life is in danger. Is it your intent to hinder the fight to save his life?”

  “No, ma’am,” came back in a stutter.

  “Then get those plans and files over here, or I will person-ably come over there and see you shot.”

  “Yes, ma’am. The files are on the way.”

  Vicky released her captain’s wrist. He retrieved his arm as if he wasn’t sure it was still attached to him.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” Vicky said. “I know that is not how you taught me to lead. However, that is what I learned at my dad’s knee. I am just starting to learn that there is a time to do things your way . . . and a time to do things Dad’s way.”

  “It’s not an easy lesson,” Kris said.

  “No,” Vicky said, seeming to look inside herself, note the particular set of her soul. “You are right, Kris. It is not at all easy. Was it like this for you?”

  “I think you’ll find it harder. I get the feeling there’s a bigger gap between the way your dad does things and the Navy way and the way my father goes about his business and the Navy way.”

  “That’s something I hope we can talk about.”

  “First we save your dad.”

  50

  Kris’s staff room, now changed by the situation into a Tac Room, was just the way they’d left it during the stampede to the bridge. A chair was overturned on the floor.

  One wall showed a schematic of the Dedicated Workers of Tourin. The wall next to it was covered with opened files. The wall across from it showed . . . a spiderweb. Beside it was a series of files not found, and similar error messages.

  At the table, Chief Beni was alternately cursing, pulling his hair out, and pounding on his own large unit, which he’d plugged into the table. He looked up as Kris came in. “What kind of junk is this we’re getting from that Peterwald ship? Are they trying to bring down our main ship’s computer?”