Kris Longknife - Admiral

by Mike Shepherd

“Damn,” was all Kris could say. “With identical ships and identical tactical structures, the two sides smashed away at each other until there was almost nothing left. Do you see the problem there?” she asked Jack.

  “Why didn’t someone panic and run?” he said.

  “Yep. Somewhere, someone should have seen the horror of what was happening and bolted for the rear, but they didn’t.”

  “Not a one of them,” Kris said.

  “The few survivors were those that had fought themselves to a standstill, fought their ships until they had no more fight in them, and then withdrew.”

  Kris raised a finger. “One, there was no difference between their ships. Two, there was no difference in their deployment. They formed their fleets into a center with four flanks, up, down, right, and left. Three, they got themselves on a parallel course, headed for a minor planet, and fired away at each other until there was nothing left, for all practical purposes.”

  “They didn’t surrender and they didn’t run,” Jack summed up.

  “No surrender, no retreat. Damn,” was all Kris could say.

  “Victory or death. I wonder what they think of a draw?”

  “From the way they treated the surviving captains,” Kris said, “it seems they think very little of them.”

  Then a yawn overtook Kris. “I’m glad I finally have some idea how the Iteeche are fighting, even if I don’t much care for it. I think, Jack, it’s time for bed.”

  “You tired?” Jack asked.

  “Not that tired.”

  “Good.”

  36

  Kris would have loved to sleep in, but she had promises to keep. She and Jack made the second seating in the wardroom which just happened to include her kids.

  The admiral enjoyed listening to excited voices planning their day. Beside her, Jacques and Jack were planning her day. She only permitted them half an ear.

  Breakfast done, little feet scampering off to play, play that their tutors, no doubt, would spike with learning experiences. Kris turned to her day.

  Ron would be there at nine. At 8:45, Kris had her convoy ready to move out. Made up of two companies of armed Marine infantry and another two companies of tanks, there were also twenty heavily armored limos. Half their occupants were business people. The other half were Marines in dress blues over spidersilk armor.

  One half squawked like wet hens while the other half looked on stoically.

  They were already lined up outside the palace when Ron drove up with an escort of gun trucks and tanks of his own in his chooser’s colors. The young Iteeche lord transferred to Kris’s limo and settled down beside her. Jack took the side seat on her other side.

  “So, you have let your dung beetles twist your arm into letting them get their heads cut off.”

  “Let us hope we can avoid that. I have a Marine with each business type. If necessary, the Marines have handcuffs and orders to use them if their charge insists on wandering too far.”

  The Iteeche nodded his head, which is to say that on a human, he would have been shaking his head. “Be it upon their own heads,” he said, ruefully.

  “What market place are we to visit first?” Kris asked.

  “There is a minor bazaar not too far from here. It is frequented by people of modest means in families that do not have the protection of a clan. By going there first, we can see how your dung beetles behave with no lord present to take offense and demand their head in apology.”

  “That sounds like a good start.”

  It did turn out to be close. In ten minutes, the limos were disgorging eager salesmen looking to make their fortune. At each one’s elbow was a Marine with orders to bring his crazy civilian back alive.

  Kris followed them with Ron on one side, Jack on the other. A squad of alert Marines spread out ahead of her while another formed a rear guard.

  The bazaar was interesting, but not a surprise. Everything was for sale, from cut flowers, two bundles of which Kris bought, to brass pots. There were electronic gizmos. Nelly had to explain to Kris that the TV’s were using cathode ray tubes, tech that humans had not seen for four hundred years. Most of the radios were larger as well, likely using vacuum tubes, too.

  “Can they carry those large things?” Kris asked.

  “No,” Nelly said. “Vacuum tubes break too easily.”

  “So, they have no portable electronics.”

  “I don’t think they do,” Nelly said.

  Ron seemed not to notice their conversation. He looked like he was concentrating very hard on not noticing their talk.

  “Do your computers also contain vacuum tubes?” she asked the Iteeche.

  “I am not a technician. How should I know?” Ron answered, as haughty as Kris had ever seen him.

  Kris decided to ignore Ron’s dodge and kept looking.

  There were a lot of musical instruments. Many were simple flutes and pipes. Kris spotted something that looked like a bagpipe. Fortunately, there were no plaids in sight and no one was playing the thing. There were plenty of tuning pipes in wood, clay, brass, and even some complex steel-powered pipes. An entire aisle of the market was devoted to instruments and tuning forks.

  Kris went up and down aisles. One was devoted to cloth and clothes. These were very colorful, both in whole bolts of bright red, yellow, orange, and green cloth as well as bolts of cloth that beautifully displayed rainbows of color or prints of underwater scenes. This was something Kris had never seen before in her travels among the Iteeche, but the Iteeche that carefully kept their distance from her were dressed much more colorfully than the clan Iteeche.

  The aisle closest to the wall was full of artisans. As Kris walked down that row of shops she passed men and women blowing glass. Their goblets and other work came out perfectly clear or brightly colored or colored in rainbow shades. It was the same with the potters. Their clay pots and jugs were lovely works of art, baked with colors that glistened in the light.

  “Is nothing just a simple glass or pot?” Kris asked Ron.

  “Simple?”

  “Plain. Just the baked clay with no color.”

  “Why would someone do that?” Ron asked. “Oh, correct, you humans make lots of things that all look alike.”

  Kris nodded.

  Ron shook his head, then added ruefully, “I don’t think any Iteeche would think of buying a thing like that.”

  Which left Kris smiling as she watched the business types hustle about, looking for their in to the Iteeche market. Kris saw no one shout, “Eureka!”

  Kris was about to head down an aisle that appeared full of watches, clocks, and similar things, all propelled by winding or weights when Nelly said, “Kris, I have a message coming in.”

  “Yes,” Kris said.

  “This is Roth. The rebels are moving against the capital of a satrap of my clan. The Emperor has pledged your support to me. We must not lose this satrap. Its industry is like few others. Without the battlecruisers it makes, our defense would be hobbled.”

  “Ron, can you take me to your Chooser?”

  “No, I will come to your palace,” his Chooser said. “I wish to speak to you with your Navy staff.”

  “I will be there in fifteen minutes,” Kris said, heading for her limo.

  “I will be there in twenty minutes,” Roth said.

  Kris quick-walked for her limo, calling Amanda and Jacques to join her. She’d leave half her battalion here to protect the traders. Evan as her mind raced through what she needed to do, the shock of hearing Roth call himself Roth and offering to come to her told her more than anything else.

  The crisis was upon them. It was success and victory, or failure and death.

  37

  Kris dismounted her limo and headed not for her castle, but for the turret that held her Navy Annex.

  She was immediately greeted by an Iteeche captain, one of those who had lost his command for staying alive. “I have advised Admiral Coth of the situation. He is returning now, bringing his fleets back to the station.
Many of our latest recruits were from other station fortresses. If all of them are to dock here, we will likely overload the Navy station and have to occupy merchant piers.”

  Kris heard the worry behind those words. If enough merchant ships did not dock, the planet below could starve. If enough colonists and manure was not shipped out, the planet could strangle in Iteeche and shit.

  “Order Admiral Coth to take his fleet to the closest station fortress. Have the other ships dock at this station. We’ll upgrade their offensive and defensive availability as soon as they pull away from the pier. I’m assuming he did get to demonstrate what his ships can do.”

  “Yes, Admiral. I am told they were quite impressed.”

  “Good. Nelly, we’ll likely be sailing soon to battle. Would you object to me including all of your children in this fight?”

  “There are three computers that have not been woken up, one for each of the children and a spare,” Nelly pointed out.

  “Later we can order more for the children. I’d like to add Admirals Afon as well as Captain Tosan, my chief of staff, to those with one of your children.”

  “Both are on different ships,” Nelly pointed out.

  “The more ships that have your kids fine-tuning their fire control solutions, the more hits we will make and the fewer we will take. I want to put the last child with a ship captain well away from the rest of the kids.”

  “I concur, Kris. I have passed the word. Do you really want to take every one of the humans that have one of my children?”

  “Are you thinking I should leave General Bruce to command down here?”

  “Yes, Kris. I have made an app to convert the castle into a fortress. However, responding quickly to attack is still an art.”

  “Okay, Nelly, keep the general here. Have the rest of them report to my day cabin in one hour. It is time for all hands on deck.”

  “Yes, Kris.”

  Kris turned to the Iteeche captain. “Now, how many of you are veterans and how many of you would like a space going job for this fight?”

  “There are fifty-two of us, Admiral. And yes, every one of us wants another go at those heretics.”

  “Then tell your associates to pack their bags, they, and anyone else who wants to get into a fight, and we’ll see how we can blow those rebels to atoms.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” the Iteeche said, clearly delighted. He slapped his right fist to where his heart was, on the left side of his chest, and took off at a trot to pass the word.

  “Kris, Admiral Coth says that he has another two hundred volunteers who want to join the fight with you.”

  “Does he trust them?”

  “He says they are likely trustworthy. It is always hard to tell.”

  “Yes, it is. What’s that bring us to, Nelly?”

  “Sixteen hundred ships on the dot.”

  That would give her close to fifty flotillas, say three hundred and twenty ships for each wing, if she fought with a center and four wings. In the last two battles, the rebels had never mustered more than a thousand ships. Then again, the Imperial forces never mustered more than a thousand likewise.

  It would be nice to fight with a numerical superiority for a change.

  Roth swept in with little of the usual overblown ceremony.

  “Nelly, get a chair for Roth and Ron, as well as one for me. We also need a table to plan around.”

  From the floor rose two high backed stools for the Iteeche and a comfortable chair for Kris. Between them, a low table rose. It quickly turned into the base for a 3D holographic star map of the Iteeche Empire. The Imperial capital system glowed golden in the middle of it. A quarter of the way to the rim away from human space, another planet flashed red.

  “That is Moon Rising Over Gold,” Roth began without preamble. “Over Gold is a satrap that was awarded to my family when the previous holder revolted against the Emperor’s great-great-grand Chooser some two hundred years ago in an unpleasantness that weakened us before the war we had with you humans. The clan that lost that satrap has never forgiven us for taking it from them. Now, they are using the present situation to take it back.”

  “How do you know all this?” Intelligence was critical, but knowing where it came from was often more important.

  “A merchant ship was leaving the system when five hundred warships swept in. We had five hundred ships ready to defend the planet. Since we have heard nothing from the successful defender, we must assume that the defense was not successful.”

  “The last time battlecruisers fought each other in equal numbers, they fought to a draw and some ships managed to flee,” Kris pointed out.

  Rolf shrugged. “Whatever happened, we have no other information. I know what that clan has available. They could easily muster fifteen hundred battlecruisers. If they lost five hundred fighting our defenders to mutual annihilation, they could still have a thousand left.”

  “Assuming they don’t have allies who will reinforce them,” Kris again pointed out. Rolf seemed to be very sure he knew what he knew. That attitude might not be the best at a moment like this.

  “That clan has few friends. I think you will find that they have gone out on a limb and you can cut it off with one blow.”

  Optimism was no basis for strategy; still, Kris held her tongue. He hadn’t paid any attention to her last few points and wasn’t likely to consider the next two. “How far away is this planet?”

  “Twelve jumps. It will take a month to reach it.”

  “So, it took a month for this news to reach you?” Kris asked.

  “Over a month.”

  Which meant all the intelligence was out of date.

  KRIS, WE CAN REACH IT IN FOUR JUMPS. FIVE, IF YOU WANT TO ENTER IT AT DEAD SLOW AFTER WE HAVE USED A PERISCOPE TO CHECK OUT THE OTHER SIDE.

  NELLY, THIS ONE WE ENTER REAL CAREFUL LIKE. I DON’T TRUST THIS SITUATION AT ALL.

  NEITHER DO I, KRIS.

  “Where is your planning staff?” Roth asked. “I wanted to exhort them to victory.”

  “I sent them to gather their gear. We sail at midnight.”

  “But you must plan.”

  “Eminent Sir, I have already planned the battle with my computer. All that remains is for us to sail at midnight and win you a victory and a planet. Can you point out the mother planet of this clan?”

  “Yes, it is Solon’s Golden Fish.”

  Nelly lit up a planet past Moon Rising Over Gold, halfway to the far rim.

  “I will keep that in mind,” Kris said.

  “You would strike that deep into their territory?”

  “Nelly, can you show me all the rebel planets?”

  “Yes, Kris.”

  In a blink, the star map was painted with bright gold and red. There was no front line. There was a lot of gold around the Imperial capital, and a large blotch of red sweeping around the far rim of the empire, but in between there were planets right beside each other of different colors.

  “Why is there no front line? No defensive redoubt?” Kris asked.

  “Most of those planets are of little value. They do not build ships, so no one wants them. They have large populations,” which Kris took for huge populations, “and they contribute nothing to either side. No, the battle is for the systems with the resources to fight this war. Over Gold is one of those. I cannot lose it.”

  Kris did not question Ron’s chooser, but his “I cannot lose it,” seemed to have too much personal interest in it. Still, the Emperor had ordered her to act. The kid Emperor had ordered her to act.

  That gave her pause. That kid issued no orders. Clearly, this attack was an easy goad to get Roth hot to trot for a fight. What other Imperial counselors had gone along with him and what were their dogs in this fight? The more Kris thought of this, the more the hackles on the back of her neck stood up.

  Still, she, and the humans had been called out. The Imperials demanded that she show them what she had. It might be a trap, but it would be one she would not stick her neck in. Oh no, no,
sticking her neck into the trap until she had a good idea what her opposition had in store for her and her fleet.

  “Thank you for your charge,” Kris told Roth. “Will you be sending any ships to join us?”

  “I can give you five flotillas,” Roth said.

  One hundred and sixty ships. Kris had to wonder how big a chunk of the Quin Clan’s fleet this was. That was a question she could not answer.

  “Ron will command our fleet,” Roth said.

  The junior Iteeche bowed to his Eminent Chooser. “I am honored.”

  Kris was glad he was grateful for the honor, but she had to wonder what a court counselor would be worth in a fight. Hopefully, she would find a good captain to stand at his side.

  Kris spent the rest of the afternoon putting her affairs in order. She delegated political and diplomatic decisions to a committee of three ambassadors, Tsusumu from Musashi, Kingston LeJuinne of Earth, and the Wardhaven representative. “I suspect with Ron and I gone that a lot of Iteeche will be holding their breath,” she said, “or cheering for our deaths. Matters should be on hold here. Try not to let anyone get their heads cut off or start a riot. General Bruce will be in charge of security and defense of the palace, if it comes to that. I hope you won’t mind, but I’m giving him veto power over anything he thinks might put the mission or any people at risk.”

  The diplomats did not look very happy at that, but Kris went on. “For the first four or five years that General Montoya was with me, he had authorization to lock me in my night quarters if he considered any of my plans of action to be too suicidal. I am doing nothing to you that the king didn’t do to me.”

  “Yes, but your Jack has a sense of humor,” Admiral Tsusumu said. “And he let you run rampage over all human space.”

  “Only half of it,” Kris insisted.

  “The entire galaxy,” Ambassador LeJuinne pointed out.

  “Yes, there was that.”

  “And start a bleeding war with one huge bunch of monsters,” the Wardhaven ambassador tossed in.

  “Yes, but in my defense, there was a consensus of all the military experts with me that we were taking the correct course of action.”