Bold

by Mike Shepherd

  “I’ll get a doc over here before supper,” Jack said.

  Kris was too tired to argue. Her adrenaline was draining away fast. Likely, that was something her body did to make sure Ruthie didn’t get a jolt of the stuff with her milk.

  A short older man with sparkling eyes, a tall middle-aged man with a limp, and a young woman who might have been mistaken for a younger Kris came to face her.

  “If there was any question about the risk involved here, someone certainly gave us a demonstration,” the older man said. The other two nodded.

  “All three of us have had a member of our staff withdraw. Mine was the woman who was shot. Diana and WP each had one fold their cards after a call to their spouses. One would have to be a fool to go into this without the support of the one they’re committed to spend their life with. Besides, what kind of negotiators would we be if we gave our loved ones nonnegotiable demands?”

  He turned to share a chuckle with most of those in the room. At least two, one a man, the other a woman, looked too shook-up to enjoy the joke.

  “We have a list of additional experts we would like to join us. Computer gurus, data analysts, linguists in the variations of Standard spoken in Greenfeld, several experts in forensic accounting. They may not be necessary, but it’s amazing how often they come in handy. Getting to yes isn’t just a process of reaching agreement but often involves changing people’s opinion of where they are and where they’ve been.”

  Kris nodded as she began to learn another way of looking at the world, just as the Navy had shown her the Navy Way, and the boffins had introduced her to the scientific method.

  Oh God, not another learning experience!

  “Make up your list. Pass it to Meg, my aide-de-camp. If she can’t get the bodies you need, I’m sure I know someone who buried them.”

  Ensign Longknife smiled cheerfully, validating Kris’s suspicion that Gramma and Grampa Trouble had more than one oar in the water that brought her to Kris’s side.

  “I asked Grampa Trouble if he knew a good plastic surgeon,” Jack said, “and Gramma Trouble got back with me a few moments ago. One is on her way here.”

  “Then let me feed Ruthie, and I’ll lie down where I’m told,” Kris said with an exhausted sigh. Two nannies brought the infant, and someone rustled up a rocker for Kris and Ruthie. They settled into a corner while the others, including Jack and Meg, made their lists and made them longer.

  Kris was not yet finished with Ruthie when Foile showed up again.

  “You mind talking to me now? My wife breast-fed our two hellions. It brings back fond memories.”

  “If you’re not embarrassed, I’m not,” Kris said.

  The agent stooped beside Kris. “We’ve done a thorough search of the area and don’t see anything more dangerous than one owner who hasn’t leashed his dog.”

  “God forbid we should allow such an outlaw to prosper,” Kris said dryly.

  “My main problem is Nuu House. The bulletproof windows were last replaced when you started college. Their warranty is up next year. With no one here, there were no plans to replace them.”

  Kris snorted. “I was crazy for ship duty. Hated being stuck here.”

  “Evidently, armor-piercing bullets are more powerful than ten years ago. I’ve put in a demand for new glass, but it will be a day, maybe two, before we get everything replaced.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  The agent shrugged. “I’m not sure there’s anyplace on this planet that can be made safe for you. I suggested to the head of the Secret Service that you move in with your folks . . .”

  “Ain’t gonna happen,” Kris said, cutting him off.

  “He said the same thing. He didn’t want the prime minister caught in any cross fires intended for you.”

  “That, too,” Kris said, getting a fishy eye from the agent but no backtalk.

  “Would you feel safer with the Navy?” he finally said.

  Kris shrugged. “They’ve kept me alive when bug-eyed monsters wanted me dead. I haven’t done better than that?”

  Now it was the agent’s turn to say nothing and Kris’s to give him the fish eye.

  “Okay, where do we stash me and how do we get there?”

  “I assumed the Wasp,” Foile said.

  “So would everyone else,” Jack said, joining the conversation.

  “Where’s the Princess Royal?” Kris asked.

  “Moving into a Nazareth Steel space dock,” Nelly said.

  “Here’s how we’re going to do this,” Kris said, and turned Ruthie over for a good burping.

  15

  An hour later, a convoy gunned out of the front gate of Nuu House. Built around a long black limo, it had big police rigs and Marine gun trucks both ahead and behind it. As soon as it hit the street, it began a zigzag course that seemed aimed nowhere in particular.

  A half hour later, a similar cavalcade shot out of the back gate of Nuu House and likewise began to go nowhere in a hurry.

  Thirty minutes after that, a third motorcade repeated the process, again using the front gate.

  In between those last two, a green sedan, driven by the old family chauffeur, pulled up to the back gate. He waved cheerfully, and when questioned by the Marines at the gate told them, “Lotty needs two pounds of butter and five dozen fresh eggs. We aren’t due for a delivery until tomorrow and wouldn’t you know it, they ate us out of house and home.”

  The Marines chuckled and waved the sedan through.

  Two blocks out, it was joined by two unmarked police cars, then two more.

  About this time, all three of the motorcades with big limos began to meander their way toward the space-elevator station. The green sedan, instead of making its way toward the same place, or for a grocery store, got on the crosstown expressway, sped up, and headed for the mountains to the west of Wardhaven.

  About the time the sedan approached Big Bear Lake, an unusual sound was heard over Wardhaven City: the double boom of a lander coming in. Not since the beanstalk had been completed had a lander come in over the city. Back then, they came down in the bay, not up in the hills.

  Longboat 3 from the Wasp settled down in a haze of spray and steam, then motored over to the large boat ramp and rolled itself right out of the water. The aft hatch opened, and a cheerful voice said, “Hi, Your Highness. See. We didn’t suck a single water weed into the intakes.”

  “You’ve gotten much better,” Kris shouted back, and quick-walked with Jack, Agents Foile and Rick, two nannies, and one Navy aide across the landing and right into the longboat.

  “You may launch when you please,” Kris said. “Just keep the gees below two and a half, if you will. Neither I nor baby is up for the rough stuff these days.”

  “Will do, Your Highness. Back to the Wasp?”

  “No, not today. Land us on the Princess Royal, if you please.”

  “Will do, ma’am.”

  Thus ordered, Longboat 3 motored stately out to where the lake was its deepest and rose to the heavens on a pillar of fire.

  Once the noise settled down, so Jack didn’t have to shout, he leaned over and spoke into Kris’s ear. “Danged if that wasn’t a better escape from Wardhaven than the last time we had to leave in a hurry.”

  “Glad I’m not at the stick?” Kris asked.

  “Nope. You’re the best pilot I’ve ever ridden with.”

  “Smart husband. I may keep you.”

  An hour later, they approached High Wardhaven Station. Wasp’s Longboat 3 adjusted its course to take it right into the Princess Royal’s landing bay.

  Without a hitch, Kris was back in space, safe and sound.

  16

  An out-of-breath commander saluted Kris as she came aboard one of the fleet’s newest battlecruisers.

  “I’m Commander Helen Ajax, captain of the Princess Royal. Welcom
e aboard, ah, Admiral.”

  Kris took the measurements of the woman who would keep her and Ruthie safe. She was glad the captain had chosen which foot to get started on. Someone had warned her how much Kris did not like being Your Highnessed by officers in uniform.

  “You were told you would be my flag,” Kris said, watching as the two nannies marched Ruthie aboard.

  Captain Ajax’s eyes followed the baby for maybe a second too long.

  “Ah, yes, ma’am,” she said, eyes sweeping back to Kris.

  “But not that I’d be coming aboard this afternoon.”

  “Exactly, ma’am. We’re doing our best at catch-up.”

  Kris turned to follow Ruthie into their new home. “Well, it turns out the armored glass windows at Nuu House weren’t quite as armored as we thought. Have you locked the ship down?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Ah, you know we are in the yard, ma’am.”

  “Yes, but does adding the crystal armor require yard personnel’s coming aboard?”

  “I’m trying to get an answer to that, ma’am.”

  “It shouldn’t. We did it all from the outside on Alwa Station.”

  “Yes, ma’am. The Wasp sent over the layout for your flag quarters.” Again, the captain’s eyes focused on Ruthie, and she swallowed hard. “I assume that you will need expanded quarters. I also have a request from Wasp. They want to ship your flag gear over here. Their request arrived shortly after the order to lock the Princess Royal down tight.”

  “Which has you between a rock and a hard place,” Jack put in.

  Kris’s flag captain nodded.

  “Yeah,” Kris admitted. “Maybe we don’t have all our ducks in a row. Okay, allow personnel from Wasp to make the transfer. See that Senior Command Chief Mong is put in charge of the detail. Tell him to wear sidearms, and if he sees anyone he doesn’t recognize, to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Begging the Admiral’s pardon, but is that the normal way of doing business under your command?”

  “No, Captain, but there have been two bombings and one sniper attempt on my life since I went ashore day before yesterday. I’m a bit trigger-happy at the moment.”

  “Yes, ma’am.

  “Oh,” Jack said, “I’m about to order up a doctor to see what she can do to patch up my wife’s face. There are also three nannies and two Secret Service agents, likely more, that didn’t come up with us. Let me know if you have anyone ask to cross your brow, and I’ll approve them or order your Marines to shoot them.”

  Again, the captain swallowed hard. “There is one matter that I hope you’ll make allowances for.”

  “And that would be?” Kris asked.

  “I got a request from the CEO of Nazareth Steel, Shipbuilding, and Space Docks, Chogan Cam. He’d like to talk to you.”

  “How’d he know I was here?” Kris snapped.

  “He didn’t, ma’am. He told me earlier today that he’d like to talk something over with you when you came aboard. He’s been good to work with, and I can’t see his being a problem.”

  Kris eyed Jack. He nodded. “Captain, tell him that he can talk to me,” Jack said. “If I like what I hear, we’ll see where it goes from there.”

  “Yes, sir. He’s in the yard, overseeing the tiger team doing what it can to glue crystal or whatever down.”

  “Actually, we ended up bolting it on,” Kris said, “though I don’t know quite how we got the strands of crystal to stick together. Okay, Captain, I’m going to be trusting you with my life in a pretty rough neighborhood. If you think I should see him, I’ll see how he gets on with the general here, then talk to him. Where are my quarters?”

  “If you’ll come with me,” Captain Ajax said.

  “I suspect I can find my way to the gangplank,” Jack said, and they went their separate ways.

  The P. Royal’s skipper did lead Kris to familiar territory.

  “Wasp’s skipper said your quarters were just off the bridge?” the captain said, clearly puzzled but not pushing.

  “Yes. When I first came aboard Wasp, I was senior officer present but also the ship’s gunnery officer.”

  The skipper’s eyebrows went up in a questioning V, but she said nothing.

  “Wasp and I kind of grew up together,” Kris said. “I went from lieutenant to four stars on Wasps that went from corvettes to frigates to battlecruisers.”

  Kris came to a familiar door. A Marine corporal stationed outside opened it while a private kept alert guard.

  Her day quarters had a decent expanse of space. All empty. Kris quickly covered the paces to the door into her night quarters. They were a lot smaller than she would have expected.

  Right. Jack must be billeted somewhere else.

  “Nelly, see what you can do about moving the bulkhead to expand the day quarters.

  Suddenly, there were no night quarters.

  “Yeeps,” the skipper said.

  “Aren’t your people moving walls around?” Kris asked.

  “Well, yes, Admiral, when we need to, but I haven’t had anyone treat bulkheads like they’re on wheels.”

  “Hmm,” Kris said, glancing around the space. “Nelly, we don’t have any screens; could you turn these walls into a schematic of the ship?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nelly said, being rather better behaved than normal.

  This time, Kris’s new flag captain did a better job of suppressing her surprise. “I’d heard about Nelly,” she said.

  “You have to see her to really become a believer. This latest trick of transparent Smart Metal is a new one even for her. Now, let’s see. Where do you want my flag quarters since they will include one Marine lieutenant general, one infant with a squad of six nannies, an aide-de-camp, and at least four Special Agents, including one in charge. Oh, and you will be taking on three teams of mediation specialists and their support staff.”

  “In addition to a Marine company?”

  “Yep,” Kris said. “Nelly, let the captain see a full schematic of Wasp, including boffins, Marines, and the Forward Lounge.”

  “Lounge!” The captain failed to suppress a squeak.

  “You can’t expect civilians to live by our spartan standards, and since we may be inviting an Emperor, Empress, and definitely a Grand Duchess aboard, we can’t fail in our hospitality.”

  “Oh.” Was followed shortly by a “God. I’ve also got a band heading up the beanstalk. One of your relatives—Trouble sound right?—says I can’t do a diplomatic mission if I don’t have a band.”

  That was a new one on Kris, but likely essential.

  “Sorry, Captain. I’m one of those damn Longknifes, and I’ve been handed one hell of a job.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand, ma’am. But a restaurant and a band, ma’am? I’m on lockdown, and now I have to reorganize my ship and bring aboard a Navy band from somewhere and cooks, bartenders, and whatever else from God only knows where?”

  “Yes,” Kris said, knowing exactly how her flag captain must be feeling about now. “The difficult we do now, the impossible takes a little longer. Agent Foile?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” he said, stepping in from the passageway.

  “Any idea where we might recruit a few cooks, bartenders, and the like?”

  “None whatsoever, but I will get on it immediately.”

  “Thank you so very much,” Kris said with a smile, then turned back to Captain Ajax when Foile stepped back into the passageway, already talking to his commlink.

  “I would suggest you get in touch with Captain Pett from Wasp and talk to her about what it’s like to have a troublesome Longknife aboard. If you’d like me a deck up from your bridge, I’d be glad to do that, but I will need the strongest radiation shielding for Ruth.”

  “Ruth?”

  “My infant.”

  “She
’ll be traveling with us?”

  “She will be traveling with us,” Kris said. “And yes, I know this is all irregular, but we’ve been doing things different on Alwa Station for the last two years and no, I did not authorize anyone to remove their birth-control implants. Mine and seventy-one others were sabotaged, if you are curious, and I’m here because the King ordered me back to sort out this problem with the Peterwalds. We all have to stretch a bit.”

  “I understand, Admiral,” the P. Royal’s skipper said, looking quite stretched already.

  “Good. Now, why don’t you get with Captain Pett. Not only do you need to accommodate me and my needs, but I horse ships around hard, so they aren’t there when someone aims for where they expected them to be. That means larger reaction motors than the ships came with. Get the word from Pett, then pass it along to your squadron mates.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the captain said, dismissed herself, and headed for the door as Jack came in it.

  “Honey, you really want to talk to this fellow,” Jack said, grinning as if he’d won the lottery. “I love what he’s offering.”

  “I could use something nice today,” Kris said, and stood to meet the CEO of the yard doing work on her flagship.

  17

  “Nelly, could you get us a few chairs in here,” Kris said.

  A moment later, three comfortably overstuffed chairs flowed out of the deck. They settled into them: Kris and Jack easily, Chogan a bit more unsure of himself.

  “Damn, these are comfortable,” the big fellow with long, flowing white hair said as he settled his full weight into the sudden seat.

  “Don’t you provide Smart Metal beds and chairs on your ships?” Kris asked.

  “Yeah, I provide ’em, but I never tried ’em.”

  “How long have you been building Smart Metal ships?” Kris asked.

  “I bought the patent from Al Longknife a few months ago. It took the mills a while to switch over. I just finished my first two ships. This one,” he said, nodding at the bulkhead, “and the Furious. I’m glad I got the job of putting the crystal armor on both of them. I’ve enjoyed working with the skippers and crew.”