Bold

by Mike Shepherd

  She tapped her own commlink, not bothering Nelly. “Admiral to squadron. I want every ship prepared to deploy a Marine platoon in full space armor. More if possible. Secure all hatches.”

  Acknowledgments came back from all eight battlecruisers.

  On the screens, the dot at the elevator station fell back, merging with the next dot.

  “Three of the red coats ran.” That was Jack’s voice on net. Calm as ever. “Their own bots just blew their heads off as soon as they were outside our perimeter,” Jack observed, just as calmly.

  The farthest-out dot merged with the next one in the path of its retrograde movement to the flag.

  “Put a tourniquet on that but keep moving,” Jack shouted, then said more calmly, “Kris, I’d ask for more medical support, but the detachments are fighting as hard as they can, and I don’t think a medical recovery team could make it through.”

  “We’re having enough trouble holding our ground,” Nelly reported. “I don’t think we could defend another moving detachment.”

  “Understood, Nelly,” Jack replied.

  “They’ve just activated their autocannons,” Nelly announced. “Oh, they also activated some new firewall and booted me out of their system.”

  So someone was digging into their bag of electronic tricks. “Admiral to squadron, secure the comm lines to the station.” Her order was answered quickly.

  Kris tapped her commlink again. “Princess Royal, Intrepid, please deploy your space-armored platoon to reinforce the troops ashore. Take extra rocket launchers.”

  Two captains acknowledged their orders immediately. A screen that had been covering the situation on the pier now showed Marines in full battle rattle double-timing it ashore. Their helmets were dogged down; they were breathing their own air. No bot would get at them. In single column they trotted down the ships’ brows, across the pier and then, without missing a step, up the escalator to A deck.

  “Nelly,” Jack demanded on net, “show us where the autocannons are and their targeting cameras.” A moment later Jack ordered, “Open fire.”

  Kris kept her mouth shut, swallowing an anxious question. She studied the few cameras they had up on A deck. Yes, the autocannons were all on the overhead. A volley of Marine rocket grenades exploded, blowing autocannons away just as a few of them began to stitch the Marines, knocking them around like tenpins.

  Kris had always wondered how spidersilk armor would do against a half kilo of twenty-mike mike. Now she saw. Marines flew backward and sideways as the slugs hit them, sliding or rolling them along the deck before they came to a sprawling stop. A few managed to make it to their hands and knees before their buddies helped them up.

  One was knocked out of the protective nano cover. In hardly a moment, his head exploded.

  “I’m deploying more nanos,” Nelly said.

  “We need them,” Jack answered. His withdrawing forces were now halfway home.

  One autocannon had been missed or skipped. It was just barely below the curved horizon. Now it opened fire.

  Station autocannons were supposed to use reduced-power rounds so they wouldn’t punch through the deck and open the station to space. This one proved the point. Its slugs were almost spent when they hit the deck and ricocheted before plowing into a dozen Marines, knocking them down and sending them sliding toward the forward end of the station.

  One Marine held on to her black box. Even as she slid across the deck with her buddies, her fingers were working her board. If there were bots waiting for them, she kept her nanos moving to protect her team.

  The only Marine left standing with that squad fired a rocket at the offending autocannon. The station acquired another hole in the overhead.

  Marines in full space battle armor trotted up to the scattered squad. They helped the troopers to their feet, then, as the rest of the armored platoons continued toward the farthest-out team, one fire team helped those in dress uniforms limp toward the ship.

  There was an explosion against the face mask of one of the armored Marines. It knocked him back a step, but he was moving to catch up with his fellows with nothing but a shake of his head.

  “We’ve got nanos moving along with the armored Marines,” Nelly said. “I guess we missed that one.”

  Kris figured the tech teams were allowed a few misses. She was glad that miss was on a Marine armored for it.

  Why didn’t I fully armor Jack’s detachment?

  Because I didn’t want to look all dressed up for war, she answered herself.

  Mark up another mistake that I made that cost someone his life, she thought bitterly.

  This damn Longknife legend is a bitch.

  Pulling herself out of her head, Kris studied the boards. The armored Marines were almost to Jack. His team was falling back as quickly as they could move without compromising their perimeter.

  Someone in the opposition tried using an autocannon that was beyond the horizon on A deck. The slugs hit the deck and ricocheted. Jack’s Marines would have to pass though that beaten ground to make it back to the P. Royal. He sent a fire team of armored Marines out to spot that cannon and take it out.

  One of them got hit in the leg by a round. It spun him around and he went down cursing on his fire team’s private net. His buddies razzed him, but trotted up to where they could get a shot at the autocannon. They quickly added another hole to the overhead that would need patching.

  Now the outer perimeter around Jack’s troops was held by the spacesuit-armored Marines. Kris was anxious for them to get back aboard, and the urge to run must have been almost irresistible, yet the Marines kept to their careful pace. Kris could now spot Jack in the center of the retrograde, surrounded by a squad of Marines with their heads down, watching developments on their boards and making adjustments to the cloud of nano defenders swarming around all of them. No Marine moved any faster than that support team could walk with their eyes on their boards and not looking where they were going.

  One of the technical types stumbled as Kris watched. A buddy next to him grabbed his arm and kept him from going down. Kris gritted her teeth and prayed they could hold this together just a little bit longer.

  Tugs towing cargo carts came racing down A deck, already at full tilt. They had no drivers. There were shouts from the outer perimeter and Marines took a knee, sighting their rifles in. On a Gunny’s shouted command, they took the mass of cargo carts under fire.

  The Marines hit the tugs right on, but as they swerved, their carts came free. Those kept rolling toward the Marines. On Gunny’s order, there were second and third volleys. The carts turned out to be heavily loaded enough that they absorbed the hits and just kept coming.

  “Aim for the tires,” Gunny ordered, and fire went lower. Some hit the deck around the carts. Most ricocheted off the deck. A few punched through to space. They’d need to be patched, but it would take a long time to empty the station.

  Tires took hits and deflated, bringing their cart to a slow stop. A couple of carts had their wheels shot off. They came bouncing toward the Marines, who dodged out of their way.

  One poor Marine was looking right when a wheel rolled in from the left and hit him hard on the back and knocked him down. Two of his buddies picked him up by his armpits and dragged him along with them as they kept heading for home.

  Kris wondered what they would come up with next, but whoever the opposition was seemed to have pulled the last trick they had out of their hat. Kris knew there was one last gambit they could make. With the Princess Royal locked down tight, there was no way for Kris to know what the pressure was on the station’s A deck, and she was not about to ask Nelly for a report on that unless she offered one.

  Apparently, no news was good news. The Marines made it back to the pier.

  “Everyone aboard the Princess Royal or the Intrepid,” Jack ordered. “Nelly, could you expand the receiving air lock o
n the quarterdecks to take us all.”

  In a moment, the entire quarterdeck was one big air lock, with Marines being checked over and only passed aboard through a smaller air lock in groups of five or six after they had been gone over thoroughly.

  Kris left it to Captain Ajax to organize transportation for the borrowed Marines back to their ships by liberty launch. For now, she wanted her ships locked and tight.

  What she would do next was something for her, Jack, and her brain trust to decide.

  33

  Kris was relieved beyond words when Jack half stumbled into her day quarters. He was out of breath; he’d lost his cover. Was that his blood on his cheek? Kris found herself out of her chair and dashing toward him, arms open even before she thought of it.

  She was careful to slow down before she hit Jack. From the looks of him, she could probably blow him over with a feather.

  She put her arms around him, and they both let out a breath they hadn’t known they were holding. “I’m so glad to be home,” was all Jack said.

  “I’m glad you made it. Don’t you ever do that to me again! I’ll order you locked up in our bedroom myself.”

  Jack grinned as she made to him his often-repeated threat to her. Often threatened but never followed through on. Yet.

  “I think you just might do that,” he said, and turned her face to him so he could give her an ever-so-soft kiss.

  Kris broke from the kiss and the hug and stepped away from Jack. Still with her arm around him, she aimed him for the table that was growing a place for him and several more. “You want to take your seat?”

  “Think I could get a glass of water?” Jack asked. It hit Kris that the huskiness in his voice wasn’t just for her closeness.

  “I’ll get us both a glass,” said Special Agent Foile, who had followed Jack into Kris’s flag quarters.

  “It’s through my night quarters,” Kris said, and the Secret Service agent disappeared to return a moment later with two cups, no doubt manufactured for him by Nelly.

  Jack took one and emptied it in a quick series of gulps. Beside him, Foile was doing the same. Both collapsed into the nearest chairs.

  “You want a refill?” Diana asked. She was already out of her chair and reaching for their empty cups.

  “Yes, thank you so very much,” Foile said.

  Captain Ajax arrived, took one look at the two men from the ground party, and asked, “Would you two like a sandwich or something?”

  “It’s been a long time since breakfast,” Jack admitted.

  In a few minutes, a second class steward’s mate arrived with a cart loaded with sandwiches and desserts as well as urns of coffee and tea. Kris found that Jack wasn’t the only one hungry. She split a sandwich with Diana; the two older men also split one.

  Only after they had all caught their breath did Kris lean back and fix Jack with a jaundiced eye. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “We got ambushed on the expressway between the space-elevator terminal and the Palace,” Jack said simply.

  “Why would they attempt to kill the security team?” Chief Mediator Fu asked.

  “I don’t think they were out to kill all the security team, Mr. Fu,” Jack answered.

  “Oh, must we be so formal,” the mediator said, eyes sparkling. “We all know each other here, and I’ve heard your wife call you Jack and you call her Kris. I’m Alfred. Al if you want to talk fast.”

  “Okay, Al,” Jack said. “Sal, show everyone the contents of that truck.”

  The rolling torture chamber appeared on one wall. “That was following behind our attackers. From the looks of it, I think someone wanted to capture yours truly and send me back to Kris one pound of flesh at a time.”

  “Damn,” Kris whispered. “I do hate kidnappers.”

  “I’m developing a distinct distaste for them myself,” Jack admitted.

  “Okay, my fine brain trust, I want some opinions on what we do next. Any that put Jack at risk down there again are not acceptable.”

  “Or you, honey. Remember, I can lock you up.” When the look from Diana took on horrible proportions, Jack quickly added, “There’s a law that says the security chief of a serving member of the blood may take whatever measures he deems necessary to keep said member out of harm’s way.”

  “As the only member of the blood serving in uniform, I take umbrage at that law,” Kris drawled.

  “Oh. Okay, so I’m not going to witness a case of spousal abuse,” Diana said.

  “Don’t be too sure,” Jack said. “She may put me in sick bay if I try to corral her.”

  “Definitely,” Kris said, but with a loving smile.

  Enough of that.

  She quickly swept her eyes over those at the table. “We were invited to mediate between the Emperor, the Empress, and the Grand Duchess. Is there anyone outside those three that might be trying to kill me or suborn me by torturing my husband?”

  The room grew serious. Unfortunately, it also grew silent. Kris didn’t much care for it when her brain trust grew tongue-tied. She turned to Diana. “Do you want to nominate anyone else?”

  “I can’t think of any other movers than those three in this messy Empire.”

  “Al?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you want to be called William Pierce or just William?” Kris asked Gladsten.

  “Bill will do, or WP,” he answered, “and no. All three of us have been watching the media intake the tech people have swept up. Whether you consider the Empress the mover, or her father the power behind her, those three you named are it for this place. I should tell you that we think there may be others, call them mice within the walls, who could come forward, but not now. No one will risk raising their head too high. Getting noticed is deadly in this place.”

  “But the Grand Duchess did raise her head,” Kris said.

  “Say rather that she became the final drop into the liquid that caused it to become supersaturated and precipitate out some interesting particulates,” Al said.

  “So it’s not just Vicky,” Kris said.

  “Not just Vicky,” Diana agreed. “Although we aren’t sure whether she’s moving them, or they’re moving her. I suspect it may be either of those depending on the day of the week.”

  Kris chuckled. “God help anyone who thinks they can control Vicky.”

  Bill shrugged. “That may not presently be the case. We have a source from inside the Empire who says Vicky has become more open to learning new ways of late.”

  “Who?”

  The three exchanged glances. “We would prefer to keep our source to ourselves,” Diana said for the three.

  Kris scowled. “Even from me?”

  “I’m quite interested in seeing your impression of your friend Vicky,” Diana said. “That may tell us a lot about what’s actually going on.”

  Kris shrugged. “Okay. I am looking forward to meeting her again. She owes me for that interview she gave right after we got back from our little jaunt around the galaxy.”

  Diana raised her eyebrows in a question. Kris smiled and ignored her.

  Two can play this game of I know something you don’t know.

  Kris eyed her three brain trusters, but they had nothing more to add. “Okay, if we don’t think someone else is out for my hide, which of those three should we assume is looking to mount my head over their fireplace?”

  “I’m not sure we can assume that,” Bill said.

  “Really,” Jack said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a really strong hunch.”

  “We prefer not to play hunches,” Al said.

  “Hmm,” Kris said. “Okay, just for chuckles and grins, let me examine this situation out loud. Vicky is not on Greenfeld and likely has few friends here. Do any of us think she could have put together a rolling ambush dirtside accompa
nied by its own torture dungeon, then followed it up with that bot assault Jack just fought his way through to get home?”

  “It would seem unlikely,” Diana admitted cautiously.

  “The Emperor invited us here to mediate this situation,” Kris said. “I find it hard to believe that he would turn around and try to kill me before I can help him close down this civil war.”

  “Assuming he really wants to end this war,” Bill said.

  “Everyone knows there has been bad blood between the Peterwalds and the Longknifes going back to the Iteeche War, if not longer,” Al put in.

  “Hmm,” Kris said. “You folks really are allergic to the assumption word, aren’t you?”

  “We prefer our conclusions to be firmly based on facts,” Diana said.

  “So,” Kris said, her temper on a slow burn, “do you have any idea what we do next?”

  The three just shook their heads.

  What does it take to get these people to say anything?

  Kris turned to Jack. “If we’re not going down there, I guess we’ll have to invite Harry up here.”

  “Harry and his blushing bride,” Jack added.

  Kris eyed the three.

  “That does appear to be the next step,” Al said. “I would certainly hate to attempt an intervention via screen hookup.”

  “I tried that once,” Bill said. “Bad all around.”

  “I’ve kept children in the next room and asked them questions by hookup, but I think that would be our last option here.”

  Ah, I actually got one to say “option.”

  “Okay,” Kris said, moving quickly to exploit the agreement before it evaporated for lack of hard facts. “It is time to call the Emperor and invite him up here. Nelly, get me a line to Harry.”

  34

  It was a full fifteen minutes before the screen in Kris’s quarters filled with a view of Emperor Henry, the first of that name. No surprise he was seated on his throne, a golden affair that glittered in the light. Beside him, on an equally golden throne, if a half meter lower, sat the Empress.