Kris Longknife's Successor

by Mike Shepherd

  While they stomped toward her, Sandy flagged down two ensigns who were leaving and sent them over to the steam tables to select two dinners for her guests.

  As the two plopped down in the chairs across from Sandy she said, “Today is roast beef night, at least I think they’re cutting on a real cow. You never can tell, but it tastes good. How do you like yours served?”

  “Rare,” both snapped.

  Sandy waved at the two ensigns. “Rare,” she said in a soft voice that carried across the room.

  “So, I suspect I know to what I owe this visit, but tell me anyway.”

  “You are not only a juvenile delinquent,” Pipra growled, though she did keep her voice low, “but you are also a thief. Stealing what is not yours to take.”

  “Hold that thought while I check on it. Let’s see, I’m Viceroy of the Alwa System. I’m responsible for defending this system and negotiating treaties with any other aliens we come across. I have negotiated a mutual defense treaty with the cats. Ergo, I’m responsible for their defense as well.”

  “Yes,” Pipra hissed. “But the cats don’t need any help with their economy and I need bird workers and that means I have to pay them. I was hardly caught up on the delivery of consumer goods from that crush you created with your last sudden maximum effort. Now you want to make a mess of everything again. Christ, woman, what do you expect from me, a miracle every day?”

  Sandy carved a small bite of roast beef and eyed the two women of business and industry. “No, I just expect a miracle every month or so.” So saying, she delivered the meat to her mouth and began to chew.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? Just one miracle a month is manageable,” Pipra growled. Her voice showed none of the acceptance of her words. “If it doesn’t upset the entire damn production line.”

  Sandy took the time to chew the meat carefully. No doubt this meeting would deliver a lot of excess acid to her stomach, but it was better to chew her food very well. With luck, it might not come back up on her.

  “Pipra, if you reviewed the meeting notes I sent you, I’m asking you to up the priority for defense. We’ve got a threat to the cats and we need to add a hundred and fifty ships to the thirty-two Admiral Drago has there right now. That means we need to add some fifty ships to our own fleet as fast as we can. Admiral Benson figures it will take three or four months, assuming we produce twelve ships a month. How much disruption will an extra four to eight more ships a month cause you?”

  Pipra scowled, but turned to Abby.

  Their meals arrived, so conversation died, as Sandy hoped it would, while baked potatoes were prepared to taste. It continued as the first few bites were enjoyed. Roast beef, potato, and mixed fresh vegetables, some of Earth, some Alwan, were best enjoyed while warm.

  Abby, born and raised in the slums of New Eden, was willing, at times, to talk with her mouth full.

  “We can absorb the jump from eight ships to twelve without too much dislocation. We’ll likely have to slow industrial growth a bit, but the product for the birds, Colonial, and immigrant consumption should be only slightly impaired. Say five percent. People will see deliveries slide by two, maybe three days. You should warn the Colonial Prime Mister that this will be coming her way over the next month.”

  “Me? Not you?” Sandy asked around her next bite.

  “You’re the Viceroy,” Pipra snarled. “You’re making a mess of my plans. You tell the birds and Colonials we’re back to robbing Peter to defend Purr.”

  “I will, as soon as Abby can give me a comparison of deliverables that I can pass along to her.”

  “Mata already has the tables drawn up, Admiral,” Abby said. “It should be in your mail queue right now.”

  Sandy glanced at her wrist commlink. She had mail. A check showed it was from Abby and it was a huge document.

  “Thank you, Abby. I appreciate your promptness.”

  “Glad to be of service, Admiral, but you ain’t out of the woods. We’d already told Prime Minister Ada that we were expecting some four hundred thousand tons of Smart Metal on the next convoy. We planned to spin up a couple of fabs, both heavy and light. I told her she could expect some serious deliveries in two, maybe three months. You’re stealing her future largess. She ain’t gonna be a happy woman when you tell her that you’re taking all those nice goodies and hauling them off to that furry red-headed stepchild of yours.”

  No doubt, to the birds and Colonials, the felines were illegitimate barkers and biters. However, they were now Sandy’s barkers and biters whose parents had only been to church to nip at the parson’s heels. Sandy had to protect them, and somehow, she would.

  “I’m sorry about the dislocation,” Sandy said, “but Kris Longknife swore that no more intelligent species would get wiped out, with one body in glass and a pile of heads displayed in the aliens’ trophy room under their pyramid. I’m so glad to say that we cleaned that place out and sanitized it. If they get mad at Alwa, we’ve got the jump point fortresses to defend you. The cats are in a totally different situation.”

  “Yeah, we got the fortresses,” Pipra snapped. “But in the last attack the aliens made on Alwa, Kris chose to defend forward, to fight them at every jump we could. You’re taking all our reserves and forcing us to defend at the last ditch. That’s a lousy strategy, Grand Admiral.”

  “Suddenly, every businesswoman is a general,” Sandy quipped.

  “Admiral,” Pipra interjected.

  “Okay, Admiral,” Sandy said, only a small amount of sarcasm in the rank she gave the woman. “Yes, I’m taking all our reserves. We’ll have plenty of warning that the aliens are headed here. Admiral Kitano can defend forward with what she has, and the sooner she has more, the better.”

  “The general who is strong everywhere is strong nowhere,” the putative admiral pointed out.

  “Yes, but we have good communications between here and there. If we need to reinforce one part of the defense, we should have enough warning.”

  “So you’re going to trade me one military platitude for another, huh?” Pipra said, after a brief pause for reflection.

  “If you want, I can give them to you in the original Greek,” Sandy said, dryly.

  “Okay, I had to try. Will I get any of the new immigrants arriving with this convoy?”

  That was a good question. Those people had signed up for a dangerous assignment, but Alwa was one level of danger. Sasquan was another one entirely. Kris Longknife had shanghaied people when Alwa was just getting started. Could Sandy dare to do it again?

  Sandy ran a worried hand through her hair, supper forgotten.

  “What do you think the chances are that they’d volunteer to fill in where we need them?”

  Pipra shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. However, I will point out that we have a few folks that aren’t happy in their present jobs. They don’t get along with the boss. They just had a messy break-up. Why don’t you let me get out the word and look at what we get? I know you Navy types are more used to ‘I want three volunteers: you, you, and you,’ but the rest of us like a chance to at least think we’re in control of our lives. The new arrivals. Hell, girl, they volunteered to come here. Is the cat system all that different from the birds’? They haven’t been plugged into jobs out here yet. The odds are that, given a choice, they’re actually quite likely to volunteer. After all, vacuum is vacuum.”

  “So, you’re suggesting I treat civilians like civilians and trust.”

  “Yeah, I know that’s a mighty strange thought, but you know, you really could be a grand admiral to these folks if you just gave them a chance. And hell, if you don’t get enough volunteers, you can send out the press gangs.”

  “But I like press gangs,” Sandy said. For the first time since the two stormed in here, there were smiles between them.

  “I’ll even loan you Abby to run your press gang.”

  “Hell no, boss gal,” Abby said. “Remember, I’m the union’s chief steward. I can’t do nothin’ like that.” />
  7

  With Abby’s estimate of deliverables in hand, there was no reason for Sandy to delay her meeting with Ada. Thus, she found herself again in a longboat headed for Haven. By not calling ahead, Sandy figured this late in the day, she might find the Colonial Chief of Ministries alone in her office.

  That proved not to be so.

  Apparently, either Ada or Granny Rita had good spies on the station. There was a government car waiting for the admiral as soon as she departed the longboat. It whisked her straight to Government House where a Rooster and a Colonial were waiting for her.

  Officially, they smiled and showed her the way to Ada’s office. In fact, they seemed ready to grab Sandy’s elbows and steer her there if she deviated so much as an inch from that flight plan.

  Sandy walked into Ada’s office to find a full cabinet meeting waiting for her.

  “So nice of you to finally get around to letting us poor benighted souls in on your high and mighty plans,” Ada said, her words dripped in both sarcasm and vitriol.

  “I came right down here as soon as I had a plan,” Sandy pointed out as she settled into a chair at the foot of the long table. Ada had the head. Various Colonials and Roosters sat along each side. There was even an Ostrich. Apparently, they’d been added to the Colonial council.

  Granny Rita sat at Sandy’s right elbow. The two of them exchanged nods, but neither blinked.

  “You could have included us in the development of this damn straight jacket you’re strapping us into,” Ada demanded.

  “There was no development,” Sandy said, evenly. “The situation calls for increasing monthly battlecruiser production from eight to twelve or sixteen. Mata Hari had already done a plan for Abby that increased production to twelve ships a month. It should only reduce the consumer production by five percent. Maybe less, depending on what you order. I accepted the smaller number.”

  “Why does the Navy get to eat our lunch again?” a Rooster seated half-way up the table demanded.

  “Isn’t this problem just something for the cats?” Ada asked. “The cats that are not pulling their weight? I hear they’re on strike.”

  “The cats here are working hard,” Sandy said. “I’m headed out to speak to the cats and resolve this labor problem. I expect to settle it quickly.”

  “And give them our Smart Metal.” This time it was a Colonial at mid-table that jumped in.

  “Yes,” Sandy said.

  “Why, for the love of God, are we stripping our defenses? Defenses we’ve worked hard to build ourselves,” Ada pointed out.

  “Because you have the jump point fortresses to defend your system and the bug-eyed aliens are sniffing around the cat system.”

  The room fell silent at that.

  “We didn’t hear that part of the story,” Ada said.

  “The latest convoy from human space,” Sandy said, “stumbled upon a couple of dozen alien warships and cruisers. They were just outside the picket line we’ve set up around the cat world. I need to reinforce our fleet there. I intend to get the cats set up to mine their own moon. Get them producing their own battlecruisers on Kiel station. That’s what the Smart Metal is for, as well as the draft of workers. It will not be easy to get a fabrication base started with only four hundred thousand tons of Smart Metal, but that’s what we’ll start with.”

  The room stayed silent as those around the table absorbed the rest of the story that somehow had not made it down to the planet’s surface.

  “Must we protect the cats?” asked the Rooster who had spoken before.

  Sandy eyed Ada, then Granny Rita, then turned back to the first minister.

  With a sigh, Ada spoke. “Yes, we must come to their aid, just as others came to ours. I have been up to the O Club on Canopus Station. I’ve seen the eight banners hanging there. Eight flags for wolf packs that Kris Longknife blew away before they could get to our doorstep. We have to give them the same help that we were given.”

  “Are you going to want us to make jump point forts for the cats?” the old commodore asked from Sandy’s elbow.

  “That is not in the initial plan. At least not for Alwa to make it. Those huge stations are a bitch to sail. I have no idea how long it would take us to get something even half that size from here to there. There is also the matter of the beam guns. We can’t make them here. If we want something like that, we’ll need to have human space send them out.”

  “So, what do you intend to do?” Granny Rita asked.

  “Tell the cats that they’ve got a problem,” Sandy said. “After they recover from that, I expect that we’ll see what we can do to survive it. I’m willing to put four hundred thousand tons of Smart Metal into the pot, along with several thousand workers to help them jump start a whole new level of tech. Still, a whole lot will depend on them. I expect there will be a lot of yowling and maybe some scratching.”

  “Better you than me,” Rita said.

  “I can provide everyone with a copy of the plan we intend to implement,” Sandy said, tapping her commlink to send the entire plan to everyone in the room. “Within the confines of the resources available, I’m willing to entertain suggestions. I intend to depart with one hundred and forty-four battlecruisers in three days. I hope you can provision us for a month. I expect the cats will need some time to develop a logistical support network.”

  “I think we can do that,” Ada said.

  “Now, if it’s okay, I’d like to meet with Ada and Granny Rita for a bit,” Sandy said.

  With much scraping of chairs and low rumblings of conversation, the others left. Ada came down from the head of the table to sit at Sandy’s elbow, across from Rita.

  When the door finally closed, the admiral turned to the old commodore. “Rita Nuu-Longknife, can’t I ever go away and not come back to find you in the middle of a hornets’ nest?”

  “Not my hornets,” the old gal drawled.

  “But it is our nest,” Ada added. “Sandy, this isn’t just Rita’s fight. It’s all of ours. We’ve got to cut the apron strings from human space.”

  “But if human space doesn’t keep shipping us people and extra Smart Metal,” Sandy pointed out, “we’re going to be in a world of hurt. We are not yet ready to stand up our own defense. Yes, we’re adding Roosters, Ostriches, and Colonials to our ships and fabrication work force, but without the immigrants, there just isn’t enough highly trained people to support those training up.”

  Both of the other women were nodding long before Sandy finished.

  “But now you’re talking about dividing what we get from the United Society and the other associations,” Ada said. “We hardly have enough, and now we need to survive on half of it.”

  “Yeah,” Rita said, “but I think we’ve got a leg up on the cats, Ada. We’ve got land here we can offer the immigrants. I doubt that the cats have much empty space if they’re fighting as much as I hear tell.”

  Ada eyed Sandy.

  The admiral shrugged. “I have no idea what their land use policies are. I know they don’t much care to have humans walking their planet, and we can’t get the right to protect our people with extraterritorial status. Their legal system is not at all like ours. They seem to settle a lot of things with screams, claws, and capital punishment. For now, our folks are staying on the station.”

  “So, we can offer land and the cats can’t,” Rita said.

  “I think that’s the way of it,” Sandy agreed.

  “Now,” Sandy said, “not to radically change the subject, but what’s this I hear about you being alive and wanting your stocks back?”

  “Not to change the topic,” Rita said, “ but it seems reasonable, don’t you think?”

  “Reasonable is one thing. The law can often be something else,” Sandy pointed out.

  “Yeah, I seem to have heard that a time or fifty from my dad. I may have to go back to fight little Al for the company, but I think I still have some pull with my former husband. If a king can’t keep the judiciary honest, who ca
n?”

  “You want the entire company, lock, stock, and barrel?”

  “Oh, God no, honey. This is my home. Once I get the brat to give me a quit claim on all the Nuu property in our system and my appropriate chunk of the annual dividends, I’m coming home. This is where my kids and babies are. Of course, they may have to add two or four more frigates to the Alwa run to bring out all the additional Smart Metal I buy with my money.”

  “Are you going back on the next convoy?” Sandy asked.

  “Likely so. I may be taking a few of your Navy lawyers with me. I hope you won’t mind. They’ve also named a few lawyers I might want to retain once I get back there. I don’t think Alex will know what hit him.”

  “Good God,” Sandy breathed, “being around Longknifes fighting their enemies is bad enough. Longknifes fighting Longknifes? I’m very glad I’m on the other side of the galaxy.”

  “A smart move on your part,” Rita agreed.

  “Anything else left on our plate?” Sandy asked.

  Both shook their heads. Sandy found her way back to the entrance to Government House through cool halls, now dusky and empty. Only her footsteps sounded on the wooden floors. The government car was waiting for her.

  Back at the landing dock, her longboat was tied up and waiting for her.

  “Admiral, we just missed a launch window. We’ll have another one in seventy minutes.”

  “No problem, Bos’n,” Sandy said. She pulled out her reader and began pacing up and down the dock. The evening was the kind of cool you get after a long day. The air smelled of fresh water and healthy dirt. Birds flew by, flapping their wings and honking. Other small birds were flitting about, catching insects.

  It was a wonderful evening to be alive.

  The reader showed that, true to her promise, Cara had sent the game results. The afternoon game went long; the kids were still playing an hour after the final bell rang. Cara finally had to break up the game and send them home.

  The results of this game were much different from the first. It was a neck and neck race among all five teams. The two teams led by kids with alien rebel genes and three ship-borne kids in support positions had their ups and downs, but they finished right up there with the other three teams.