Kris Longknife: Mutineer

by Mike Shepherd

  The chief shook her head. “My sister wanted to do good. She joined the Salvation Army. In case you didn’t notice today, the good you did for the little girl is gonna mean some things very bad for the guys that grabbed her.”

  “They’re getting what they deserve,” Kris spat through the toothbrush.

  “Right, you’re one of those Longknifes. But trust me, honey, the bad guys ain’t always going to be so deserving or so obvious. Navy shoots what it’s aimed at, no questions asked, no answers sought. Politicians like your daddy point us. You sure you want to be out here on the tip of the spear with the rest of us folks with smelly feet?”

  “I joined,” Kris said, rinsing out her mouth.

  “So did every mother’s daughter snoring out there in the bays. Some joined to get out of that mother’s house, or father’s. Some joined to dodge a marriage, or the law. There are a couple out there earning money for college. They’ll be the first in their family ever to get one of those diploma things. Every girl out there knows why she joined. Why did you?”

  “I said I joined so I could do some good,” Kris snapped.

  “And?” Chief Bo wasn’t going to let her off that easy.

  “Would you believe I wanted to get away from home, too?”

  “Maybe,” came with a raised eyebrow.

  “No, I’m not some poor little rich kid, damn it, who had to join the Navy to get any attention. I had the prime minister and his lady’s attention. God, did I have their attention. So much of them, there was no room for me. That’s why I joined the Navy. To find a little space for me. To find a little air of my own to breathe. That a good enough reason to join your damn Navy?”

  “Maybe,” Chief Bo said, reaching for her covers and stretching out on her bunk. “Good enough reason to join. Not good enough to stay. Let me know when you figure out why you want to be Navy.”

  “Why are you Navy?” Kris snapped.

  “So I can have these fun late-night girl talks with you young officers and still get a good night’s sleep in my own rack. Lights, out.” In the dark, Kris could hear the chief rolling over, and in only a moment, she was snoring, leaving Kris to sort out a day that was more full than most months back home. Kris tried to organize all that had hit her in the last thirty hours but quickly found that all her mind wanted to do was spin past the day in a blur. Kris measured her breath, slowed it, and in a moment, exhausted sleep found her.

  Chapter Six

  The Typhoon lifted on schedule at 0600. At 0700, while most of the crew was at breakfast, the XO converted the boat from Air Vehicle/Planet Lander mode back to Acceleration/Non-Combat mode. Kris reached the bridge just as the reports on the Success/Lack There Of began to pour in.

  When a Kamikaze-Class Corvette was in noncombat mode; it wasn’t a bad ship to be on. The thick hull armor for combat was spread thinly throughout the ship to make spacious passageways and work spaces. The bridge wasn’t too claustrophobic, and each officer and many enlisted had their own private room. The XO had followed the book on how to change from one mode to the other and back again. Painful to say, and it was for him, the reconfiguration didn’t quite work as the book promised.

  Kris got the job of figuring out what the book missed. As Defensive Systems Officer, she was trained to move the ship’s skin around in combat to compensate for damage. That left Kris the only one among the Typhoon’s ten officers and sixty crew even marginally qualified to answer questions about wayward lockers, storage rooms, tool chests, et al. Kris spent most of the trip back to Squadron Six’s base on High Cambria trying to get the Typhoon’s insides back where they belonged. Ninety-five percent of everything worked just like the builders’ specs said it would.

  Kris worked sixteen-hour days on the remaining 5 percent.

  It had its compensations. There was new respect in the crews’ eyes even as they pestered Kris for this and that.

  Quite a few put in a good word about the rescue. And all of them thanked her for what she was doing now, even the last, the owner of footlocker 73b2 and tool locker 23’s mechs. After five tries, and five failures, neither space would move to its designated location. Kris solved it, finally, by having the spacers involved empty the lockers in their wrong locations, deleting them, then re-creating new ones in the right space. The Typhoon seemed to tremble with a quiet sigh of relief and a cheer when Kris finished. “Hope we don’t do that again any time soon,” Kris muttered to herself… and the rest of the bridge crew.

  Captain Thorpe raised an eyebrow to the Exec.

  “I followed the steps in the manual,” the Executive Officer defended himself. “You were looking over my shoulder, sir.”

  “Yes, I was.” The captain chuckled, then turned to Kris and actually let the smile stay on his face. “Right, Ensign, we will avoid this drill in the future. Before you stand down, Ensign, write me an experience report to forward to ComAttackRon Six for Commodore Sampson’s review, entertainment, and referral to the yard for an explanation.” The bridge team shared a laugh, and Kris stowed away the skipper’s smile. It looked like she’d finally made it. She was an ensign, just one of the crew.

  Then they arrived back at base and went immediately into stand-down for storage. Except for the captain, all officers went on half pay. They could leave the ship for the next three months, or they could work half-time, rotating with each other. The four department heads planned to do that. The six junior officers like Kris and Tommy were told they had a choice: get lost for all three months or just for the first six weeks, then work the last six for chow and a bunk. Either way, leave a place the Navy could contact them in case of emergency recall.

  Kris found Tommy flipping through the freight lines, looking for a cheap ticket back home. “We Santa Marians always knew we were the wrong end of nowhere, but with these connections, I’ll get home just in time to come back.”

  “There’s a direct liner leaving for Wardhaven tomorrow. We could be there in four days.”

  “And what would I do on Wardhaven?”

  “Keep me company. Tell my mother there was nothing dangerous about how I won the medal my father is going to pin on me. You know. Provide moral support.”

  Tom laughed. “And your ma’s going to believe me?”

  “More than she will me.”

  So it was settled. They dashed aboard the luxurious Swift Achilles a good ten minutes before the air locks were hatched down. Each ended up sharing quarters with six other junior officers headed for the beach, but Kris figured a cruise ship would be good for some serious relaxing. She was wrong.

  At breakfast the next morning, she bumped into, literally, Commodore Sampson, the commander of Attack Squadron Six. He eyed her like she was something really hideous that had just crawled out from under a rock. Kris was getting used to senior officers giving JOs that treatment. Out of uniform, she braced and said, “Good morning, sir.”

  “Ensign Longknife, isn’t it?” the short officer rumbled. Kris agreed that she was. “Interesting report on smart metal. Your grandfather’s shipyards should find it informative.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kris answered, then headed for the other end of the dining room where the lowlifes and JOs hung out. For the next four days, she did her best to be elsewhere when her superior officer was anywhere.

  Once the Swift Achilles docked at High Wardhaven, Kris had Nelly take charge of seeing that her and Tommy’s luggage was shipped dirtside. She wanted her hands free as she moved about the station, hurrying for the elevator. It couldn’t be that she was excited about being home. A sign at the elevator station proudly announced that the contractor had finally gotten the bugs out of the passenger cars on the orbit-to-surface elevator, a reminder that the Navy wasn’t the only one with quality-control problems. Viewing cars were now available, and Kris and Tom grabbed tickets for one’s fourth level, the one that gave a full view of Wardhaven as they dropped.

  Once the car came out of the station, there were ohs and ahs at the view of the planet laid out 44,000 kilometers below t
hem. Kris found tears forming in her eyes. Just four months ago she would have been glad to never see Wardhaven again. Today it was the most beautiful place in the galaxy. Its white clouds spread across blue oceans; its lands were green or brown or even bright yellow when the desert outback came in view.

  “It looks just like Santa Maria,” Tommy noted beside her, “but not as beautiful.” Did everyone in human space feel that way about their home planet?

  At midcourse, the car began to decelerate; Kris went from being gently pushed back into her seat by the one-quarter g force to hanging on her restraints. A computer voice suggested they turn their seats around, but Kris was not about to give up this view. Now she could make out the particulars of home. Lander’s Bay, a curving hundred klicks of water. Barrier islands had made this spot on the equator the choice for orbital landers until a runway could be built. The Old Miss, wide and reaching far back into South Continent had given the city of Wardhaven a boost for trade both off planet and up-country.

  “What’s that needle?” Tommy asked.

  “Grampa Alex’s doing,” Kris answered. “Most of Great-I-forget-how-many Grampa Nuu’s factories are off planet now. But we still own that chunk of land east of the river and south of town. He’s turning it into one monstrous office and apartment complex and returning most of the land to parks. He bragged you’d be able to see the center piece of it from low orbit, and you can.”

  “You own all that?”

  “My family does,” Kris corrected, not relishing the awe in Tommy’s voice. “We’re a big family. I don’t own all that much.”

  “Yeah, right.” Tommy didn’t sound all that persuaded.

  Kris suppressed a sigh; right about now was when she lost a lot of friends. Instead, she pointed. “Those lakes out there beyond town. We used to have a sailboat. Honovi, my older brother, and Eddy and I would go sailing whenever we could. We would have sailed all summer if they’d let us. You ever go sailing?” There, she’d said Eddy’s name. She didn’t choke on it. Her heart hadn’t bled. She’d saved Edith; maybe now she could face Eddy.

  “That pool back at OCS was the first time I saw water over my head,” Tommy reminded her. Now, only a hundred klicks up, most of Wardhaven City was coming into view. Kris noted how much farther the city had spread around the bay since she’d seen it from Grampa Trouble’s racing skiff. Well, Father’s eight years had been prosperous ones. Good for Wardhaven. Good for his reelection campaign.

  Now the car shuddered as the brakes were applied, and they slowed to a crawl to enter the station. As soon as the car turned level, riders were unhitching their harnesses, reaching under their chairs for their carry-on luggage even before the car announced such goings-on were safe. Kris was in no hurry. Even though Nelly had messaged ahead, there had been no one to meet her at High Wardhaven. She doubted there would be anyone here.

  As she and Tommy looked for their luggage, Kris got a surprise tap on her shoulder. She turned and yelped with glee.

  “Uncle Harvey.” She threw her arms around the old chauffeur and gave him a hug and kiss on his scarred cheek. It took an effort to believe that he’d been younger than she was now when his one battle qualified him for disability and a plush job at Nuu House, as he called his work. To Kris, he’d always been old Uncle Harvey, and he’d always taken her to the soccer games, the plays, and all the other places a little girl had to go. And he’d stayed there to cheer her on, buy an ice cream to celebrate victory or take the edge off defeat. They’d been through Eddy together. Uncle Harvey was the one person she’d dare share her “If only I had…” horror with. And sharing, she’d discovered she wasn’t alone with thoughts of what might have been.

  “Where’s Mother and Father?” she asked.

  “Now, you know they’re busy, or they wouldn’t be the important people they are,” he said, taking her luggage.

  “You’re traveling light, only one bag. I haven’t seen you manage that since you were shorter than my knee, and the bad one at that.”

  “I’m an officer now, in case you haven’t noticed.” Kris did a quick whirl to show off her undress khakis. “You always said you travel light in the Army, well that goes double for Navy.”

  “And who’s this other poor sailor hanging around an old man, looking eager for a ride?”

  “Harvey, this is Ensign Tom Lien, the best friend I’ve made in the last five months. We’re both kind of on the beach, and he’s from Santa Maria. I thought we might have room for him for a couple of weeks.”

  “Not at the Residency, they just hired two new special assistants. Damned if I can tell what’s special about them. Anyway, there’s no spare bedrooms anymore. It’ll have to be the old Nuu House,” Harvey said, reaching for Tommy’s bag.

  The young ensign swung it out of Harvey’s reach, “Da would tan my hide if I let a gray hair like you lug me bags.”

  “If you can find a gray hair up there, you’re welcome to it, but thanks for not saying old baldy. I suspect your folks raised you better than that.” They exchanged grins. “Come on, you two, the car’s just a short walk. Let’s get moving.” The car brought more happy time. Gary was with it. A six-foot-four linebacker type, Gary was Kris’s security detail at games and restaurants and whatever for the last ten years.

  “What’s Mother’s schedule like?” Kris asked as she settled into the backseat of the black limo. “I was hoping for a quiet dinner tonight.”

  “It’s a state dinner tonight for the both of them,” Harvey said. “We’ve got a visiting delegation of firemen from old Earth, out here to talk and jabber and not do a thing. They’ve scheduled a quiet dinner tomorrow, only a dozen or so besides you and your brother.”

  “Tell Mother I’ll have Ensign Lien with me.” She immediately silenced Tom’s protestations with a wave. “If you aren’t there, the prime minister will have me paired with some old or young lecher whose vote he’s chasing. With you, at least we can crack Navy jokes under our breath.” That settled, Kris eyed the city around her. Everywhere she looked, something was being built out of stone and concrete. The red brick buildings that seemed so tall when she was just a kid were being replaced by buildings that soared out of her adult sight. Yep. Times were good, traffic was lousy, and Father was at no risk of losing any election he called. Five months ago, that was all she supposedly needed to be happy. How a little time had changed that.

  As they approached the old Nuu mansion, Harvey regaled Tommy with the tale of its growth. “Old Ernie Nuu started with that two-story block over there. That’s where I and the Mrs. live. He added that long three-story wing when the grandkids started coming. Then, with the General bringing in all kinds of people, not just the likes of me, he added a new kitchen and dining room, a ballroom, and a couple of dozen parlors and studies with the fancy columned portico. The great library was, I think, his wife’s idea. Then with great-grandkids, he built another wing. They say old Ernie was building until the day he died. Folks still swear sometimes they can hear him walking the halls at night.”

  “I never heard him.” Kris frowned at her deprived state.

  “You were never quiet long enough,” Harvey shot back.

  Gary smiled.

  Now, there was someone quiet enough to hear a ghost. Kris started to ask him. Before she got a word out, the main gate came into view. It was staffed by a dozen marines in battle armor and rifles.

  “I thought you said Father was at the formal residency.”

  “He is; this is for the visiting firemen. The General himself is back from Santa Maria. Your Great-grandpa Trouble is due in today.”

  “What’s going on?” Tom asked.

  The driver and security guard exchanged glances. “Need-to-know basis, son,” Harvey answered. Kris and Tommy had to produce IDs and retina scans to prove they were who they were. As the car came to a final rest before the front portico, Kris realized that between college and the Navy, it had been a while since she crossed that door. It opened automatically as she approached; Nelly had done her j
ob of answering the door’s challenge. The foyer was in shadows, but it was the floor Kris eyed.

  Great-great-grandpa Nuu had been in his spiritual phase when he built this section. The floor tiles were a spiral of black and white, starting along the wall and closing into a tight coil in the center. The design was from an ancient Earth cathedral; as a child Kris had walked it as a kind of game, her on the blacks, Eddy on the whites. Always they met in the middle. It had been a long time since she’d walked it.

  The ensign who saved Edith Swanson wondered what it would feel like to walk it now.

  The great library, off to the right, had more marine guards, these in dress red and blue. They eyed Kris as she crossed the cold marble floor, came to attention. It was clear that if she came an inch closer, they’d very likely shoot. She and Tommy headed directly for the thickly carpeted stairs. Kris got her old third-floor room back. Harvey apologized for putting Tom so far down the hall. “All the rooms in between are taken.”

  “Who’s in them? Could they be moved?” Kris asked.

  “General, general, admiral, colonel,” Harvey said, pointing at each door.

  “I guess we don’t move them,” Kris agreed.

  “Would you have a small corner, maybe up in the attic, where I could lay a sleeping bag?” Tom asked, voice cracking.

  “Tom, what’s to be afraid of?”

  “You’re a girl. You don’t have to worry about meeting one of them when you’re halfway through a shower or sitting on the can. I’ll be standing there at attention, myself hanging in the wind. Kris, this is not what I bargained for.”

  Harvey turned to rest a hand on the young ensign’s shoulder. “I know how you feel, boy. Fresh out of the Army with private stripes still on my soul, being around the General and those that ended up around him, it was a shock to the old system. But, son, they get up just like you and me, every morning. And it seems to me that the higher up they go, the more they know that. Not all, but trust me, any around the General and Trouble are good ones. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have had the smarts to come here to ask the General how to get out of this mess.”