Kris Longknife: Furious

by Mike Shepherd

  Last cherry gone, Cara hopped off her chair and grinned at Kris. “Time to go.”

  “Why?” Kris answered belligerently.

  “I got a surprise for you.”

  “What kind of surprise?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” had the kind of logic even a three-year-old could understand. A three-year-old or a drunk.

  Kris was neither. At least the lack of the trembles seemed to say so. After weighing her options only slightly less carefully than Kris weighed starting a war between the entire human race and some really nasty aliens, Kris decided to follow Cara.

  The young woman led: out of the bar, out of the hotel, and out into the streets of Elysian Fields. It was late, and the streetlights had already been dimmed. It was an obvious encouragement to all the worker bees that management expected you to be early to bed and early to rise.

  Few here held out any hope of being healthy, wealthy, or wise. You either made it before you got here, or you did what you were told and were grateful for the chance.

  There were a few exceptions to that policy. Do something that really won the approval of management, and you might be rewarded with a significant bounty.

  Kris suspected that catching one Kris Longknife in an escape attempt had a very high bounty on it. No one had told her, but the looks she got, the questions she was asked whenever she varied one millimeter from her normal schedule fairly shouted a bounty with a lot of zeros and commas. Kris might be wanted for crimes against humanity on 150 planets, but she wasn’t dumb, or any less observant than she’d been when she got herself into this mess.

  Tonight, as they made their way back to Kris’s nearly palatial quarters . . . after all, she was a Longknife and she did command FastPatRon 127, the main defense Madigan’s Rainbow had against smugglers and the odd alien scow that might wander by . . . Cara gabbed up a blue streak. She talked about how this or that reminded her of that place or the other on New Eden.

  Kris hadn’t spent that much time on New Eden before the government invited her to go elsewhere in a hurry. But Elysian Fields did not look at all like Eden’s main city. New Eden was run-down and shabby, in need of urban renewal or at least several new coats of paint. Fields was washed and scrubbed, planted and flowering . . . or else.

  Kris let the teenager babble while walking a straight line to prove she could.

  Then Cara took a turn that Kris normally didn’t take on her walk home. It wasn’t a turn that would make her miss Kris’s quarters, it was just that Kris had fallen into a habit of always taking the more scenic route. The one next to the park. It left her in easy reach of a bush if the Scotch suddenly demanded to vacate the premises.

  Cara turned away from the park and onto a road lined with four-to-eight-story walk-ups.

  Pickled brain or no, Kris checked for her service-issue automatic. It was in its usual place in the small of her back. This could just be a new kid in town taking a shortcut through a bad part of town.

  Officially, Fields had no “bad” part of town. Still, there were places that fell well below the medium income. Some of the old codgers living here had reputations. There were whispered stories of how they’d made their billions without benefit of law and in ways the courts would have frowned upon if they’d come to their attention. Kris had picked up hints that things were not always as calm as they seemed among the owners.

  There had to be someplace on the planet where one could procure that which wasn’t displayed in the gleaming windows of the stores.

  Cara made another turn, still talking like a magpie. The alcoholic buzz was gone. Kris was on full alert. Cara was now walking away from their quarters.

  Inconspicuously, Kris’s eyes roved, looking for a friendly cop, who would most solicitously tell Kris she was not going the way she should and ask why.

  Or a thug looking for a big payday and finding a spectacular one. Just the value of the raw components of the computer at Kris’s neck would make the thief a billionaire.

  Not that Nelly had said a word to Kris in over three weeks.

  There was, of course, always the risk of an assassin. Kris had dodged plenty of them. Some genius had cut her security detail here to zero . . . well, Abby . . . insisting that Madigan’s Rainbow was a totally benign planet.

  Like there would ever be one where Kris was concerned.

  There was a reason Kris was wanted on 150 planets. And a lot of people going through worse stages of grief than she was would gladly see her dead.

  Fear blew a cold wind through Kris’s brain, driving the final wisps of whiskey’s self-induced fog before it. Still yapping, Cara stooped to check her shoe. “I got this huge rock in it,” she insisted.

  Kris ground her teeth. They had stopped in front of a narrow alley. The smell of garbage and urine assailed the air. More proof that these Elysian fields had an ugly underbelly. Kris peered into the dark of the alley but could see nothing.

  Cara stood up and huffed “I’m glad that’s taken care of.”

  THE DECEPTION IS GOING FINE, Nelly said, speaking in Kris’s head for the first time in almost a month. NOW GET YOUR DRUNK ASS UP THAT ALLEY, YOUR STUPID HIGHNESS.

  2

  Kris fled up the alley, stumbling over trash and garbage, bouncing first off the right wall, then the left. A door opened, showing little light. The shadow of an arm reached out and grabbed for Kris’s shoulder.

  GET INSIDE, Nelly screamed in Kris’s skull.

  Kris let herself be guided in the door.

  “Gee, that was fun!” Cara said, hardly out of breath.

  Kris, more out of shape than she wanted to admit, still gasped out, “What’s going on here?” as she produced her automatic. She held it low, not pointed at anyone or anything in particular.

  But at everything in general.

  “Put the gun away,” an all-too-familiar and wonderful voice said even as the lighting went from near nonexistent to just painfully dim.

  “Penny!” Kris managed not to shout. “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to stay invisible,” said the Navy lieutenant, intelligence officer, and daughter of a cop. She aimed Kris at a cheap dining-room table with four mismatched and even shabbier chairs. Abby, Kris’s erstwhile maid, was already in one. Cara slipped easily into another. Penny settled Kris in the one facing Abby before taking the last chair.

  Kris took a moment to survey her surroundings. The room was tiny, cluttered with dirty dishes, leftover Chinese food cartons, and other junk. Several cockroaches scuttled from the brighter light. This was not Kris’s Tac Center on the Wasp. Still, with the present company, it felt more like home than anyplace Kris had been for way too long.

  “And invisible we will stay,” Nelly said from around Kris’s neck. Kris’s personal computer had been often upgraded since it was given to her before first grade. After the latest upgrades, she’d taken to arguing with Kris more often than not. And now she told atrocious jokes. The alien chip Kris had volunteered to have planted in Nelly’s self-organizing matrix for examination might have had something to do with the present state of affairs.

  It didn’t matter. The last month, while Nelly had given Kris the silent treatment, had been its own special kind of hell.

  “I’ve fed old feed, properly revised, so that our watching dogs will not notice the loop,” Nelly went on. “It shows Kris and Cara taking a side trip into the park to violate a bush. Kris is now collapsed in her own vomit, and Cara is crying for her to get up, while making sure Our Princess doesn’t suffocate. That should keep the boys at the station house delighted for some time.”

  “Did you have to make me that disgusting?” Kris grumbled.

  “I would have made it worse,” Abby snapped, rubbing gingerly at her eye.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Kris said. “I never thought I could lay a hand on you.”

  “And you wouldn’t have,” Abby said, “if I hadn’t let you. This shiner was just the excuse I needed to let the security cameras in our quarte
rs show me sulking in my bath while I sent poor Cara to beard the beast tonight.”

  “We’ve got security cameras in our bathrooms!” Kris squeaked.

  “Goes to show how much you needed me,” Nelly said.

  “All of us are under a tight security lockdown,” Penny said.

  Kris might have befogged her brain an hour ago, but that didn’t mean she’d miss important information now. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” she said to Penny.

  “My assumption is that if I’m caught, my folks will not get a body to bury.”

  Kris leaned back in her chair. “It’s that bad?”

  “Baby ducks,” Abby said, “consider yourself to have gotten off easy. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did anything but help you look pretty and presentable, Cara and I would end up dead, very dead. Haven’t you noticed how good I’ve been lately?”

  “I noticed you showed up with only three self-propelled steamer trunks,” Kris said. Until Kris got the Wasp for her home away from home, she and her team had gauged how much trouble they were in by the number of steamer trunks following Abby through customs. It wasn’t unusual for her to leave Kris’s quarters with three or four and have as many as a dozen following her an hour later.

  What she produced from them was always amazing and usually critical to keeping Kris and company alive.

  Now Abby chuckled. “You had your royal head so far up your ass, I didn’t think you noticed.”

  “Did most of your tricks get confiscated?” Kris asked

  “Most, but not all. Nowhere close to all. What surprised me is that none of them even tried to get their meat hooks into Nelly or any of her kids.”

  “I had something to do with that,” Nelly said, seeming to clear her nonexistent throat. “There wasn’t a lot on Wardhaven about me and the kids. What there was, I made disappear. It’s easy to run boneheads around in circles if they don’t know what I’ve got up my sleeves.”

  “Smart move,” Penny said, stroking Mimzy at her own collar. There weren’t just four sharp minds met around this table, but eight.

  “Where’s Jack?” Kris asked, choking on the question.

  Penny shook her head. “He didn’t play cool. When they put you on that fast boat to Wardhaven with no security, Jack went ballistic. No common sense at all. What got into that man?”

  “We kissed,” Kris said softly, letting the memory of Jack’s soft caress warm her.

  “Oh,” Penny said. “That explains it.”

  The four women sat silently for a moment, savoring that revelation.

  “Yes,” Kris whispered. “For a few seconds there on the pier at High Chance, we were making up for lost time.” Internally, Kris winced at her choice of words. A bride of three days when widowed fighting under Kris’s command, Penny of all people did not need to hear of lost time.

  But Penny only nodded before going on. “Jack was pretty adamant that he had to follow you. You weren’t safe without him. Admiral Santiago did her best to calm things down. Did she see the way it was between you two?”

  “Yeah,” Kris admitted.

  “Now I understand Jack’s problem,” Penny said. “Dumb me. I should have put two and two together, but I never thought you two would ever find the time for something more serious than arguing over your next stupid or suicidal move.”

  “Me neither,” Kris muttered. “But when you’re being chased across the galaxy, by really nasty and mad aliens, sometimes you think about what’s really important.”

  The three others gave that thought the sardonic chuckle it deserved. They’d all been with Kris on the Wasp, making high-speed jumps into the unknown. Dodging some pretty upset and vengeful aliens. Not knowing if they’d have the fuel to slow down. Or the wits to find their way home.

  “Where is Jack now?” Kris asked.

  “He’s detailed to security on HellFrozeOver,” Penny said.

  “You’re kidding,” Kris said.

  “What’s that?” Cara asked.

  “A naval station in the Wardhaven system,” Nelly said quickly. “It orbits a large gas giant, and the base sends tankers down into it to recover reaction mass, which is then shipped to High Wardhaven for fleet use. There is also a private concern that does the same for commercial use. There are unconfirmed reports that very top secret research is also carried out at the base, but the government refuses to answer questions.”

  “Wow,” Cara said.

  “The night I announced that I’d joined the Navy, my father swore he’d see that my entire career was on HellFrozeOver,” Kris said. “He’s threatened me with it a few other times. Jack must have really pissed them off. Is he in charge of security?”

  “Nope,” Penny answered. “They don’t trust him any farther than they can throw him and a herd of elephants. The commander of that hellhole, with orders to ride close herd on Jack, is a certain Colonel Hancock.”

  “Old Hard Case himself!” Kris said.

  “You know him?” Penny asked.

  “I served with him on the Olympic Humanitarian Mission. Another hellhole, only this one rainy and bandit-ridden. I wondered what happened to him after that mission closed down. I thought he’d have the good sense to get the message and retire.”

  “How many people around you are afflicted with good sense?” Abby asked dryly.

  Kris shrugged an admission of the question, if not an answer.

  “You got any IOUs with Colonel Hancock?” Penny asked.

  Kris shook her head. “He saved my bacon once or twice, and mine and Tommy’s neck once when I got us up a flooding creek without a boat, or rather with a boat that suddenly wasn’t there.” At the questioning glances, Kris shrugged. “There was a problem with Smart Metal that was dumb. Or maybe intended to kill me. Nothing that could stand up in a court of law. You know how that goes.”

  “Oh don’t we,” all the women said in three-part harmony.

  “So, if any markers were left on the table,” Penny concluded, “they’re yours, not his.”

  “Sad but true,” Kris admitted.

  “Let’s face it.” Abby said. “Most everyone who’s met our girl here is only too glad to see her rear end sashaying out of their lives. I don’t know many who want to see that flat chest of hers coming at them.”

  “Oh, I love your way with words,” Kris said with a sigh.

  “Well, I know of at least one fellow whose first thoughts are of you,” Penny said.

  “Who would that poor fool be?” Abby asked.

  “A certain cop on New Eden. You remember an Inspector Juan Martinez?”

  “Yes, good man,” Kris said. “He and his proud caballeros helped save a whole lot of people’s necks, including mine, when one of Harry Peterwald’s henchmen tried to replace their government with something more sympathetic to Greenfeld’s imperial goals. What’s he up to now?”

  “Making sure that someone else doesn’t foist a government on New Eden more to their liking than the one the people of New Eden might choose on their own,” Penny said.

  “And this matters to us how?” Abby drawled.

  “I’m getting to it, and it’s why I’m risking my neck looking you three up to gab about old times. It seems that somebody intended to rig last month’s elections on New Eden. Part of it was sleight of hand, part of it was inciting some unhappy folks to do things that might or might not be in their best interests. Anyway, Juan and some of his police friends got wind of what was happening, and, having been burned once, they were a bit more shy of this crap than the average guy.

  “After everything but the crying was over, a reporter, Winston Spencer, drew the assignment to cover the story for Galactic News Network. He and Juan are talking over a drink or two when it comes up that they have both had the misfortune of making your acquaintance. You do know both of them, don’t you?” Penny asked.

  “I’m acquainted with the reporter,” Kris lied. “I don’t really know him.”

  From the looks on Abby’s and Penny’s faces, she could have
saved herself the lie. Neither was buying it.

  With a scowl, Penny went on. “So Juan tells Winston more than what made it into the official police reports on the incident.”

  Abby put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her spread fingers. “Do tell,” she said, the image of a gossip in full harp.

  “It seems one of the main movers and shakers of this conspiracy liked to brag to his girlfriends about what a big man he was. He blabbed pretty much the entire scheme, but he added an extra twist. They were going to solve the alien problem as well.”

  “Alien problem? What’s that mean?” Kris asked.

  “Juan doesn’t know, but what he does know is that the talking dude was found by his girlfriends the next day with his throat slit. That’s what sent them to the police.”

  “But they didn’t know what he meant by that,” Kris said.

  “Nothing. The investigation found only a whole lot of nothing when they tried to follow up on it.”

  “And you risked coming here why?” Kris asked.

  “Because, at the very bottom of the pit, in the dark that couldn’t be pulled into the light of any court, Juan and his cops found the fingerprints of your grandpa, Alex Longknife.”

  Abby whistled.

  “Now do you see why I’m risking my neck for this quality time together?” Penny asked, glancing at the squalor around them. “Your rich grandfather who swore never to get involved in politics again is using ugly means to try to take over planets. And his henchmen think this is only a means to an end that might have aliens involved.”

  Kris pushed herself gingerly away from the table, trying not to put her hands into anything that might have mutated into something deadly, all the time shaking her head at the thought of how much death and mayhem a way-too-scared and way-too-wealthy Longknife could create.

  “I don’t think this calls for a drink,” was all she could think to say.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Nelly said.

  3

  Kris let her team enjoy Nelly’s joke. “You’re getting better, girl,” she told her personal and not very personable computer.