Kris Longknife: Mutineer

by Mike Shepherd

  When orders came from the Hurricane, assigning the Typhoon four specific targets, it took Kris less than ten seconds to identify them, establish distance, and assign one to each of the Typhoon’s four pulse lasers.

  The reactor of the small fast attack corvettes didn’t have the capacity to recharge lasers like the big cruisers and battleships; however, storage capacity technology had come a long way since the Iteeche War. The Typhoon stored energy enough for nanosecond-bursts from her four massive twenty-four-inch pulse lasers. Again, because of the small size of the corvette, the laser was short. This didn’t allow for the near-perfect concentration of the sixteen-inch lasers on the battleships, but for the 40,000 kilometers until the energy beam diverged, the pulse laser of a corvette was as good as any battlewagon’s main battery. Better, as far as Captain Thorpe was concerned.

  Behind Kris, the bridge hatch opened, and the marine platoon filed in, taking stations against the rear bulkhead. In full battle kit and armor, they looked as out of place as Kris had been at Longknife Towers in shorts and a sweatshirt. Captain Thorpe nodded at Gunny, then tapped his commlink.

  “All hands, this is the captain. Today, we show Earth the mettle of Rim humanity. They have held us down for centuries. Here, today, we throw that yoke off. I have been informed that as of now a state of war exists between the Rim worlds and Earth and any other planet too decadent to stand against that tyranny. You have your orders. The Typhoon is the best in the fleet. Let’s show them what we can do. Captain, out.”

  With a tight, proud grin, Thorpe turned to Addison. “Close with our assigned targets.” Now it was Kris’s turn to get the full power of her captain’s attention. “Longknife, you may fire when the enemy is at twenty-five thousand klicks.”

  “Yes, sir,” came automatically from the helm and Kris.

  Without thought, Kris’s hands went into motions, checking targets, verifying the rate and angle of closure. The Earth ships didn’t alter speed or course in reaction to the arrival of Squadron Six. They were making it easy.

  Easy? Too easy!

  Kris’s fingers raced over her board as her mind raced as well. War! We are going to war! What changed the prime minister’s mind? What could make Grampa Ray or Trouble give up on a peaceful solution to this mess? Where was a news feed when you needed it? “Nelly, get me some news,” she subvocaled. Hell, with all the ships here, there had to be a dozen news packets broadcasting in real time.

  “All channels are jammed,” Nelly reported.

  “Jammed! Who’s jamming?”

  “The flag is jamming all traffic to and from the squadron.”

  “Even on Wardhaven command frequencies?” That wasn’t standard procedure!

  “On all,” Nelly reported. Kris gnawed her lower lip. She was about to go to war. About to attack Earth’s fleet! And for the first time in her life, she knew complete zip about what was happening. No, she knew the most important data there was. She knew her father and her grampas. Would they do this?

  “Nelly, tap into the ship’s message traffic, there’s got to be some explanation to these orders.” Kris had never been one to do what she was told, at least not until it was explained. This, of all things, needed explaining!

  “Attempting.”

  “Sir,” the communications officer’s high-pitched voice got the skipper’s attention real fast. “Someone is trying an unauthorized access to our communication logs.”

  “From where?”

  “Inside the ship, sir.”

  “Track them down,” Thorpe ordered. “I want to know who it is. Gunny.”

  “Nelly, stop,” Kris snapped subvocally.

  “Yes, sir,” Gunny acknowledged, coming to attention.

  “Prepare to dispatch a team to chase a saboteur. You may shoot on sight and shoot to kill,” the captain growled.

  “Sir. Corporal Li. You and two others.” Li signaled two privates, who moved with him at the hatch, ready to respond.

  “Comm,” the captain demanded.

  “Access was repelled, sir. Whoever it was dropped out immediately.”

  “Let me know the second it comes back.”

  “Nelly, what happened? I thought Tru gave you everything you needed to hack into anything Wardhaven has.”

  “She did, ma’am,” Nelly sounded hurt by this rebuff.

  “But the Typhoon’s net is being monitored by Ironclad Software. I think that is the system I told you about last night.”

  “Never heard of that outfit.”

  “They’re a small company on Greenfeld that never tried before to increase its market share outside that area.”

  Greenfeld. Peterwald’s home! What was nonstandard Smythe-Peterwald software doing on a Wardhaven ship? A Wardhaven ship about to go to war!

  “Range to targets?” the captain demanded.

  “Forty-five thousand klicks,” Kris reported with the part of her that was Typhoon’s offensive weapons boss. Around the Hurricane, the other ships of the squadron spread out.

  Kris checked her targeting assignment. She had a column lead…that would be the squadron flagship…and the fifth, ninth, and thirteenth ships behind it. Those would be the division flags. Her shots would decapitate an entire squadron. She checked the other corvettes; each had a similar assignment. With four shots from eight ships, Fast Attack Squadron Six would render 128 battleships either wrecks or leaderless.

  “Weapons. Status,” the captain demanded.

  “Four pulse lasers ready and dialed to full power,” Kris reported automatically, her mouth almost too dry to talk. “Capacitor fully charged. We can reload one laser immediately. Three more in seven point five minutes, sir.”

  “Reload Laser One immediately. Target the last ship in our assigned column. We’ll show them the Typhoon can get five battlewagons with four pulse lasers.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kris said, fingers moving to obey.

  Something is wrong here! a voice yelled in her head. Those battleships aren’t expecting an attack. Is my father ordering a sneak attack? Would Grampa Trouble do this? Kris couldn’t answer that. Did Grampa Ray give President Urm any chance at all? No. But those ships held troopers just like him, even if they were Earth conscripts!

  “Nelly, can you pick up any communications?”

  “Nothing.”

  Would Trouble who went up Black Mountain, Ray who fought Earth, then Urm, then the Iteeche, fight like this? Would her father? They were Longknifes. They would not give orders like these! So what do you do, kid?

  Tommy says there are always options. She glanced over her shoulder; he was looking wide-eyed at her. Colonel Hancock, I’m not seeing a lot of options here. She checked the range, coming up on forty thousand klicks. Not much time to make an option. So, Kristine Anne Longknife, what do you do? We’re here to keep a fleet from slagging Wardhaven. This fleet is a threat. A threat…here! Hanging around its jump point!

  “Sir,” she said softly, “there’s something wrong.”

  “What?” Captain Thorpe snapped.

  Kris stood, fingers still resting lightly on her battle board. “This situation, sir.”

  “What situation?” Puzzle only slightly marred the captain’s confidence.

  “This is a sneak attack, sir.”

  “Of course it is. You want to give that massed firepower a shot at Wardhaven? Sit down, Ensign, you’ve got your orders.”

  “Yes, sir. But orders from where? The prime minister doesn’t have an underhanded bone in his body. I know. He’s my father. If he fights you, he does it up front and in your face. And these ships, sir. They’re not making any effort to threaten our fleet. Our planet.”

  “Targets, forty thousand klicks,” the helm said. Each moment put them closer to a shoot, closer to massacre.

  “What’s the matter, Longknife, don’t have the guts for a fight? I should have known. Gunny, remove this coward from my bridge.”

  You just made a big mistake, Captain. You made this personal. Kris turned to the marines; not one had moved fr
om the bulkhead. “Am I a coward? I jumped with you. Without me, half of you would have burned on reentry. Without me, all of you would have died on that minefield. I was the first in the door, and the first to the girl. Was that the act of a coward? Is standing here a coward’s act? Captain, these orders did not come from the prime minister of Wardhaven. Where did they come from?”

  “From the only people who have a right to give them, you spoiled brat,” the captain snarled—and let his temper give her the only chance for legitimacy she could hope for.

  “Those orders come from the people with the guts to take what you money-grabbing wimps have hoarded for yourselves. You have no use for duty, honor. You let power lie around, wasted. Well, some of us know how to use power. There’s Earth’s power, sitting fat and dumb. In one minute we’re going to blast it to bits. How’s that for power?” Thorpe raised his fist. “And if Earth comes back, we’ll blast them again. We’ve had enough of being your bootlicking dogs, Longknife. Now we’ll do what is right. Gunny, shoot that dog.”

  Gunny still stood against the bulkhead. He’d watched his commander with widening eyes. Slowly, his M-6 came down. Kris found herself facing into a loaded weapon…again. Well, Emma, my Highlander friend, I guess this is where tradition brings a Longknife.

  “Is that what you want to be, Gunny?” she said, strength rising from her gut with each word. Was this what got Grampa Ray through the Presidential Guard? Was this what took Trouble and the Ladies from Hell up Black Mountain? She pointed at the captain. “That man says you’ve been the bootlicking dog of the rich and lazy. You ready now to be the bootlicking dog of the power mad and crazy? Because that’s where you’re headed.

  “You may not like my father’s politics, but people like you elected him. You figure the captain here and his friends can do a better job? Remember that minefield that somehow didn’t get spotted before the jump? You’d think a guy so hot to trot to set the record for fastest rescue mission would notice a thing like mines. What else will he miss? Is this what you want?” She moved her gaze from the inactive Gunny to those around her.

  “You want to follow the orders of whoever happens to be the biggest, meanest bastard around? Is that what you want for your kids and grandkids? Space ripped apart by whatever warlord can patch together enough power in the rubble? Because there’s no question, men drunk on power who can’t even run a good drop mission aren’t going to know a thing about running a planet. Who gave the orders we’re following? Communications. You have to be in on this. Who’s calling the shots?”

  The lieutenant at communications turned as red as one of his readouts. He nodded to the CO. “Sir?”

  “None of your damn business, Longknife. People like you have been calling the shots for so long you can’t believe that others know what our worlds need better than you. You’ve kept us under your thumbs, paid us pennies for risking our lives while you make trillions in your sleep. This is where your time ends. Gunny, shoot that mad bitch.”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry,” Gunny said, leveling his weapon.

  “Gunny, don’t move your finger,” Corporal Li cut in, his weapon level. “You so much as twitch, Sarge, and I’ll stitch you to that wall.”

  The Exec was out of his seat. As he turned on the marines, a pistol appeared in his hand. Tech Hanson was already bringing his rifle up. “Put it down, sir, or so help me, you’ll be dead before you can bring it to bear.” The XO froze in midswing.

  “Drop the weapon, sir,” Corporal Li said. “I mean that, XO, and you, too, Gunny.”

  “You’ll hang for this,” the captain screamed.

  “I’m not sure we wouldn’t hang if we didn’t, sir. Ma’am, I’m just a grunt, but I’d really like to know if I’m on the right side. I figure, if we’ve screwed up, we might be able to just put our guns down and let them do this attack thing and maybe it would turn out okay for us.”

  “Comm, open standard Wardhaven frequencies,” Kris ordered.

  The captain shook his head.

  “Fuck you,” the comm lieutenant said.

  “Nelly, slave comm to Tom’s station. Then hack it. Fast.”

  “Slaved, ma’am. Hacking in progress.”

  “Tom?” she asked, knowing once more she was assuming he’d follow her, demanding he follow her, give her the proof that would prove to the crew that they could follow her. Would he back her once more?

  His hands were already flying across his board. “I’m working on it,” he snapped. “Damn, the Hurricane’s putting out the jamming.” He glanced around at the bridge crew. “Somebody sure doesn’t want us getting anyone else’s viewpoint.”

  “Push it,” Kris ordered. “Narrow your beam. Limit search to the emergency command net. Tight beam it at the planet nearest jump point Delta,” Kris guessed. She had to find the Wardhaven flag. If the Earth battle fleet hadn’t moved away from its jump, she bet Wardhaven’s was still somewhere around its.

  Five seconds later, Tom shook his head. “We need more energy. I can’t burn through the jamming.”

  “Drain the capacitor.” She sure as blazes didn’t want to use that juice on a fifth Earth ship. Tom tapped his board. Kris almost forgot how to breathe as his readouts went deep into the red. These people needed proof; she had to provide it.

  “Thirty-five thousand klicks,” Addison announced to whomever it mattered.

  Then Tom got that lopsided grin again. “Done. I’m getting something.”

  “…hell do you think you’re doing. AttackRon Six, answer me, Goddamn it. What in God’s mercy are you doing?”

  “That’s my Grampa Trouble,” Kris breathed. “Last seen, he was working with the prime minister to find a peaceful way out of this crisis. Anyone still think we’re supposed to be doing what we’re doing?” Kris said, turning to face each of the bridge crew. Faces went from pale to determined as she searched them. In the background, Grampa Trouble tried, rather emphatically and in language she’d never heard him use, to raise the commander of Attack Squadron Six.

  “Shall I send to him?” Tommy asked.

  “No.” Kris swallowed. “They’re hell and gone across the system. If this attack is going to be stopped, we’ve got to do it ourselves. And it has to be a surprise.”

  “You can’t do this,” the captain screamed. “Don’t you see you’re blowing our last chance? You’re giving rich bitches like her the galaxy. You’re gonna let them keep running you around. They’ve had us by the balls, now they want our balls.”

  But no one was listening to Thorpe. Eyes were concentrated on screens, fingers tapped battle boards, the bridge crew was with Kris. “Gunny, you with us now?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I got a grandkid coming. Be a hell of a world to give ‘em.”

  “Gunny, Corporal, get these men off the bridge. We’ve got a battle to fight. And maybe one to stop.”

  “Yes ma’am. You heard the woman,” Corporal Li ordered.

  “When you first came on board,” Thorpe spat, “I thought you had the makings of a fighter. Now I see you’re just as full of chicken shit as the others.”

  “Sir,” Gunny growled. “You either shut up and start moving, or, I swear to God, I’ll shut you up,” he raised his rifle butt, “and have the XO and Comm here carry you out.”

  Kris let Gunny handle Thorpe; she had other problems. “Addison, you all right with this?” she asked as the skipper finally fell silent and sullenly was led from the bridge.

  “I guess so, ma’am. This isn’t exactly the Navy my dad talked about.”

  “Or mine,” Kris agreed. On her battle board the corvettes were spreading out. Still, the Chinook was a bare three hundred klicks from the Typhoon. “Okay, folks. Here’s what we’re going to do. The squadron needs a wake-up call that lets them know they’ve got big problems. Addison, prepare for evasive maneuvers on my orders.”

  “Yes ma’am,” the helmsman said through a hard swallow. Kris settled into her seat, wrapped her hands around her controls, and aimed a twenty-four-inch pulse laser
at the stem of the Chinook. She’d worked defensive on the Typhoon long enough to know its most vulnerable spot. Hit a Fast Attack right aft of the engineering control stations, and you sliced right through the reactor. There’d be one big explosion and one hell of a wild ride, but the crew would live to write home about it.

  Kris took two deep breaths, waited for her hands to get rock solid on the controls, then set the crosshairs of her targeting computer carefully on the Chinook. A glance at her four ranging systems—radar, laser, gravitational, and optical—showed four different ranges. She dialed in a good compromise, reduced her twenty-four-inch laser’s power setting to half strength, and squeezed.

  On screen, a thin yellow line reached out from one corvette to the next. Radar showed an explosion of gases as Kris’s laser slashed into the stem of her target. The Chinook took off in a wild gyrating spurt, then fell behind the rest of the formation as it lost acceleration.

  “That’s got to get their attention.” Tom chuckled.

  “Yep.”

  “Thorpe, what the hell happened?” came over the flag net.

  Kris hit her commlink. “This is Ensign Longknife, now commanding Typhoon. Your attack orders are illegal. You are ordered by Commander, Wardhaven battle fleet, to break off your attack run. If you do not, I will stop you.”

  “Longknife? Where’s Thorpe? Oh shit. Scirocco, and Hurricane, you will attack Typhoon. Division Two, continue your attack on the Earth fleet.”

  “Well, you wanted their attention,” Tom said, raising an eyebrow in resignation to the new mess his Longknife friend had gotten them into.

  “Addison, aim us at Division Two. Tom, get ready to put metal between us and the flag.” “Yes ma’ams” answered her. Kris hit her commlink again. “All hands, this is Ensign Longknife speaking. I have relieved Captain Thorpe. Our attack orders are illegal. Commander, Wardhaven fleet has ordered us to stop the attack on the Earth fleet. I have just damaged Chinook, and we are now attacking the rest of Squadron Six. Whether you were in on the attack conspiracy or stand with Wardhaven, I suggest we all stand with the Typhoon, because otherwise, we’re all dead. Longknife out.”