Bold

by Mike Shepherd

  “All of them,” brooked no alternative.

  “That will make for five, ten . . . Oh, ask my prime minister who we need.”

  In five minutes, twenty-five guardsmen and twice as many advisors stood on the brow. Half the guardsmen were first, prepared to charge to the immediate defense of their Emperor. The other half were at the rear, ready to put speed on any slowpokes and provide a wall against those still arguing that they needed to be included.

  A chief bosun’s mate’s pipe announced, “All hands, prepare to receive visitors. Civilians on the gangway, shake a leg.”

  Kris noticed an increase in air pressure; nanos would have a hard time flying against that wind. Harry eyed the clear partition. His eyes grew big, as a much larger air lock, one that was comfortable enough to hold all his guards and advisors, appeared.

  The Imperial Guard charged aboard at the double. The civilians made their way aboard, squawking like a bunch of old chickens and hurried along by the last of the guardsmen.

  Those who raced along to get aboard if there was the slightest chance found themselves staring into the blank faces of Royal US Marines with rifles at port arms.

  That ended that noise.

  The chief bosun piped again. “All hands on the quarterdeck stand at ease while we take care of a minor problem.”

  Red lights came on. Kris wondered what other wavelengths were bathing the quarterdeck, but said nothing. The pressure on her ears increased slightly, and she could hear a whooshing sound as air poured into the air lock and leaked out through small holes in the partition. Five different times the air lock went through a complete change in its atmosphere. Five times there was a wait, encouraging any tiny rider holding on to clothes, hair, whatever, to drift away.

  KRIS, THE AIR SWAPS ARE DONE. WE COULD USE SOME TIME TO LET OUR NANOS ATTACK ANY THAT ARE STILL HERE.

  I’LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO, Kris thought, and, while the seventy-five still in the clear air lock made impatient faces, she turned to the Emperor.

  “So, Your Imperial Majesty, what would you like to see during your visit to the Princess Royal?”

  “Is there any chance we and some of our advisors might see your engineering spaces?” he said. “We’ve been told you no longer use magnetohydrodynamic generators to derive your ship’s electricity.”

  “That is hardly something I know anything about,” Kris said with as much of the airhead as she could muster. Wardhaven’s ships were now generating electricity directly from the reactor’s fusion plasma. It gave them a major advantage in combat and was something she had no intention of letting the Peterwalds get a look at.

  That Harry had not asked about the improved power generators the US had gotten from the Iteeche spoke volumes for how much Greenfeld had fallen behind in the spying game. More reason to call the Princess Royal a frigate and make sure no one got a good look at how many lasers this battlecruiser carried.

  “The Grand Salon where we will be meeting to discuss what you called me here for is only two decks down,” Kris said, renaming the Forward Lounge. “This deck not only has the quarterdeck where we now stand, but also Admiral’s Country. That includes our quarters and the nursery and quarters for the nannies we took aboard before we left Wardhaven.”

  “Nursery?” Harry said. “Nannies? This must be very recent. I heard nothing of such a thing.”

  “Yes, we and your lovely wife share the great joy of having recently presented our husbands with children. We brought our daughter with us. I’d hate to be separated from Ruth.”

  “I am so proud of my newborn son, Henry Smythe-Peterwald the XV,” the Emperor said, and gave the Empress a loving hug. She kissed the side of his neck. “That’s wonderful. You have a girl. I have a son. We might do a bit of matchmaking. Arrange an alliance around our children.”

  A look of rage and horror flitted across the Empress’s face, but she immediately suppressed her visage to bland, and said to Kris. “You must be very proud.”

  “I never suspected the joys a woman might know before Ruth came into my life,” Kris said. “Now, may I offer you refreshments in my quarters while everyone sorts themselves out?”

  “Why thank you, we’d appreciate a drink,” the Emperor said.

  “And we might see the baby?” the Empress added.

  “Yes, yes. Of course, dear.”

  So they adjourned to Kris’s day quarters.

  Which had grown even more opulent since she had left less than an hour ago.

  Now the bulkheads were polished woods in delicate patterns that formed pictures of Wardhaven’s hills, seas, and farmland. The wood shared the walls—Kris could hardly think of anything this extravagant as a respectable Navy bulkhead—with velvet red wallpaper covered in golden fleur-de-lis. The burgundy carpet under their feet was lush. They sank into it much as Kris remembered sinking into the mud of Olympia.

  Don’t go there. There be dragons . . . and memories of Harry here trying to drown me.

  The conference table and chairs, as well as Kris’s desk, had disappeared, some, no doubt, into nano interceptors. There was a conversation square, two very overstuffed chairs and a similar number of couches, in front of a roaring fire.

  “You have a fireplace aboard your ship?” the Empress asked.

  “It reminds me of home,” Kris lied. It reminded her of a borrowed cabin where she and Jack had finally managed to discover the pleasure of each other’s touch. “It helps me think,” Kris finished.

  And the imp in her came up with a really bad idea.

  “If you’d prefer to eliminate the fireplace, Nelly, remove it,” and the fireplace melted into the wall, to be replaced with more wood paneling.

  Harry about dropped his uppers.

  “Oh no,” the Empress said, not at all thrown by the technical marvels before them. “Harry and I love a good fire, don’t we, honey?”

  “Of course, love,” the boggled Emperor managed to get out.

  “Nelly,” was all Kris had to say before the cheery fireplace flowed back into place.

  “Also, Nelly, there are only the four of us. We hardly need couches.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Nelly said, and quickly there were four large overstuffed chairs and the rectangular coffee table between them shrank into a square.

  “Your computer, Nelly?” the Empress said, “is quite intuitive.”

  “Nelly is quite unique among computers,” Kris said, leaving out Jack’s Sal for the moment.

  KRIS, I’VE MANAGED TO KILL THE HANDFUL OF NANOS THAT GOT INTO YOUR QUARTERS WITH HARRY. WE’RE STILL CHASING A FEW ON THE QUARTERDECK. PLEASE STALL.

  “What may we offer you?” Kris asked the Emperor. “Tea, coffee, something stronger?”

  “I’ll have a Manhattan,” the Emperor said. “A double please.”

  “I’d love a strawberry daiquiri,” the Empress said. “It’s so nice to be able to drink again.”

  “I’ll have iced tea,” Kris said, and Jack asked for the same.

  “I don’t have a wet bar,” Kris admitted, “but the artists of the Grand Salon should have them ready in a moment. So, how was your trip up the space elevator?” Kris asked, space offering little chance for small talk about its weather.

  “Not really a bother,” the Emperor said. “I so rarely get out of the Palace.”

  “It’s a lovely day in Anhalt,” the Empress added. “So pleasant for a drive. We really must thank you for inviting us up here.”

  Kris had to struggle to keep her face bland as the Empress put a new turn to events.

  At that moment, their drinks appeared on the right arm of most of their chairs. Since Harry had his elbow on that arm, his came out on his left.

  “Damn!” escaped the Emperor’s lips. “This stuff is damn near magic.”

  “You must pardon my computer. We are still experimenting with new things we can do with
Smart Metal. We must admit that we have never seen something like this.”

  “I wanted to get the drinks here before the ice had any chance to melt, Your Imperial Majesty,” Nelly said, then added to Kris, AND WE’RE STILL CHASING A FEW PESKY NANOS ON THE QUARTERDECK. IF A WAITER HAD TO BRING THE DRINKS, ONE OF THEM MIGHT HAVE GOTTEN OUT.

  WELL DONE, NELLY. I THINK YOU REALLY IMPRESSED HARRY.

  HE BETTER BE IMPRESSED. HE’S GETTING THE FULL-COURT PRESS.

  They sipped their drinks and talked of inanities. Then the Empress asked if she might see the baby. Thus, Ruthie was called for.

  A moment later, the infant appeared in the capable arms of Fede Radko, with Li O’Malley walking sternly by her side looking every bit the Gunny, ready to make sure that the world was right.

  And woe be to him who dared upset her world.

  Fede handed Ruth to Kris first, and Kris realized this was a horrible idea. A baby and dress whites, complete with medals and decorations, were never intended to mix. Kris always held Ruth with her left arm. Today, she cradled her in her right. That kept the little one away from being poked by this order or that.

  Still, Ruthie’s eyes lit up at the sight of all those dangling sparklies at Mommy’s neck. Her pudgy fingers were just learning to reach, and she managed to grab the Almar Medal of Highest Valor and pull it right into her mouth. She slobbered happily as she teethed on it.

  Well, at least she didn’t start pounding on my breasts to be fed.

  Kris let Ruth chew away happily on metal brought from far across the galaxy, then said, “Okay, Gunny O’Malley, what do we trade her for my medal?”

  The retired chief warrant quickly produced a teething ring, and while Fede carefully removed the baby from Kris’s arms, O’Malley slipped the teething ring into Ruth’s mouth and the award out before Kris was pulled away by its ribbon.

  “Would you like to hold her?” Kris asked the Empress.

  She glanced down at her exposed breasts with a knowing smile. “I don’t think my gown would survive the attention of such strong hands that weren’t my loving Emperor’s.”

  That ended with her sharing a smile with the Emperor that left him gobsmacked and looking in need of a room.

  “Your advisors are waiting for you in the Grand Salon,” Nelly announced.

  “Then I guess we should be going,” the Emperor said.

  And they went.

  38

  The short walk down two decks was not without its comments.

  “You have done magnificent things with Smart Metal,” the Emperor said as he eyed the statues and paintings that surrounded them as they crossed from one wide staircase to the next.

  “This is Marine country, isn’t it, Jack?” Kris said.

  “Yes. Each Marine has his or her own stateroom. There’s a movie stadium, bowling alley, rifle range, and exercise room that would beat any health club from here to Earth, with a three-kilometer track that circles the hull.”

  “You let your Marines live in such splendor,” Harry marveled. “The commander of my Imperial Guard is always after me to provide better quarters and places the troops can relax and be entertained. Please don’t give him any idea what you’ve done.”

  “Certainly not, Your Imperial Majesty.”

  They passed four Marines, rifles at present arms. Two were women with sharpshooter’s badges.

  “I keep forgetting,” the Empress said. “You Longknifes give your women a free rein to attempt any job that they think they might succeed at.”

  “Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” Kris said, wishing things were half as good in Wardhaven space as the Peterwalds gave them credit for.

  “Do you aspire to the kingship?” was said evenly, with a slight rise of an exquisitely made-up eye.

  Kris paused as if to give that question serious thought.

  Hell no, I don’t want the job.

  But she answered the Empress with a vague, “I haven’t actually read the final signed version of the Constitution. I’ve been rather busy elsewhere, you know.”

  That got a nod from both of the Imperials.

  “But I understand that when Grampa Ray’s twenty-five years as King are up, we Longknifes are barred from all political offices, including the purple.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Harry said.

  “But I heard that was the intent,” Kris answered.

  The Empress said nothing, but for a moment she lost the placid face she wore. What flitted across her face left Kris uneasy at best. Scared at the worst.

  And on those thoughts, they were down the stairs.

  Someone had been making improvements since Kris was last here. Candelabras and chandeliers now gave the rooms a soft glow, reflected back by the mirrors. The circular bar in the center of the Grand Salon looked like it was made of marble with a bronze rail for the feet. Behind the bar were more mirrors, pictures of nudes, or arrangements of bottles.

  Classy.

  Each of the divided spaces had a different motif. One was red and gold, another blue and silver. The room Nelly directed them to was a cold and severe white. Lush white carpet, white, patterned wallpaper, stark white cloisonné tables and chairs. Here, the mirrors were edged in chrome.

  The tables and chairs had been arranged loosely in a square around four large, comfortable armchairs. They alone added color: two were red, the other two blue.

  THE RED ARE FOR THE IMPERIALS.

  Kris ushered the Emperor and Empress to their chairs. Their lackeys immediately jumped to assure that their raiment was arranged properly, and they were totally comfortable.

  Two drinks, identical to the ones ordered in Kris’s quarters, immediately appeared out of the chairs’ arms.

  “I hope I did not presume,” Kris said.

  “No. No. This is perfect,” Harry agreed.

  Kris and Jack took their places. To Kris’s and Jack’s back were two corners of the square, tables drawn up two rows deep. Her main staff of advisors had taken their places. Farther back, the lesser specialists sat in comfortable chairs closer to the walls. There was no fuss or bother as to who belonged where.

  On the other side, behind the Imperials, it was much more unclear. Many of the men in fancy doublets, breeches, and hose also carried swords and, at least for a while, it looked like duels might be fought for seats at the table. In the end, the left half of the space, that behind the Emperor, went to people in fancy dress in every color of the rainbow. The right half, behind the Empress, filled up with men in more somber clothing, darker blues, purples, and blacks. They were still in doublets and hose with befeathered hats. Oh, and swords.

  Kris wondered if she should have added her Navy-issue automatic to her dress today. She hadn’t forgotten her spidersilk underarmor.

  And Jack had plenty of Marines at the ready. Although only twenty-five stood against the wall, balancing the same number of Imperial Guardsman, her backup was a lot closer than the Imperials.

  There will not be any problems today.

  After the commotion died down, Kris waited for Emperor Henry I to say something. Instead, he just sipped his Manhattan. The Empress sipped her daiquiri. Kris took a taste of her tea and put it back on the arm of the chair.

  HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO WAIT? Jack asked on Nelly Net.

  NOT ANY LONGER THAN THIS.

  Kris leaned forward and cleared her throat. The two Imperials continued to lean back, sipping. “You called us here, Your Imperial Majesty. May we ask what you require of us?”

  The Emperor of everything that resided under the Greenfeld flag . . . maybe less . . . huffed out a sigh. “My daughter, the Grand Duchess Victoria, seems to be in rebellion against me. I was hoping you, as a good friend to both of us, might get her to stop this nonsense and come home.”

  Kris noted the loss of the Imperial “we.” A father was speaking to her, n
ot an Emperor.

  “Really, I don’t think it’s the girl’s fault,” the Empress put in. “I really think she’s fallen in with a bad bunch who are urging her on to this, ah, defiance of her father.”

  Kris tested those words, and, as much as she didn’t want to, found them sincere.

  “How did all this happen?” Kris asked.

  The Empress cast her husband a glance. When he imperceptibly nodded, she began, “I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up to date with current Greenfeld events,” she said, and paused for Kris to respond.

  Kris chuckled. “Actually, I haven’t been keeping up on any events this side of the galaxy.”

  The Empress considered that for a moment, almost allowed a frown to slip onto her face, then went on. “Well, there has been much economic distress here. The economy has contracted. What started as minor economic adjustments on some planets have spiraled down to worse and worse. Some elements have chosen to take advantage of our trouble, and while Emperor Henry here and others have been as gentle as possible in their efforts to secure the safety of our many distraught people, some have taken to using these times for their own profit.

  “Previously, when rebellion raised its ugly head, my gentle husband relied on State Security to properly chastise those involved and preserve the tranquility of the Empire. However, no doubt you may recall that State Security attempted a coup of its own and would have killed my loving Emperor while he was hunting on Birridas. You saved his life, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” That was done with a hand to her heart that somehow managed not to put what little she wore into disarray.

  “I don’t know what I would do without my Harry in the center of my life.” The Empress interrupted her story to send a kiss her husband’s way, and he returned one to her.

  She turned back to Kris with a loving smile on her face, sighed, and continued. “The rooting out of the cancer in State Security left the place little more than a shell. Thus, when some elements incited people to riot, there were few options open for us to prevent the civil unrest.”