Deserter

by Mike Shepherd

  “All this to get Kris?” Tommy shook his head. “She is one of those Longknifes, but this is ridiculous.”

  “Right,” Kris said, but a look at the others didn’t show any similar doubt. She scrubbed at her face for a moment, trying to wash away feelings she didn’t have time to catalogue, then brightened. “Nelly, message to Grampa Al. ‘I’m stuck on Turantic. Could you please send me a ship to bust me out?’ There, we’ll use a damn Longknife thing to put an end to this.”

  “I have filed the message,” Nelly said. “However, I am advised there may be a significant delay in transmitting it.”

  Kris lost her breath as well as the confidence she’d found. “Tell us why, Nelly.”

  “There seems to have been a major system failure in the stellar communications equipment last night. Nearly ninety percent of capacity is inoperative. I have paid extra to get us priority, but it will still be a three-hour delay.”

  Penny pulled out her wallet and extracted a Wardhaven bill. “Five will get you ten. Kris’s message doesn’t go out before the rest of the system crashes.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Hey, Kris, I’m just learning to bet the odds. Somebody wants you here and seems willing to do damn near anything to keep you here.”

  “But why?” Abby said, just the hint of a puzzled frown passing quickly over her well-controlled face.

  “That,” Jack said, getting up and collecting the dish from Kris’s end table, “is the question I’ve been asking since we learned Tommy had been snatched.”

  “I suspect if we find that out,” Abby said, adding her dirty plate to the cart, “we will find a snake much larger than we bargained for.”

  “Penny, what’s going on here?” Kris asked. “Stipulated, someone wants me on Turantic. But why here?”

  Penny took a deep breath. Nelly cut her off. “Kris, you have a call coming in.”

  “Put it on-screen. Show me only.”

  “I’m so glad to have you with us, Princess Kristine,” gushed a man with graying hair and jowls far too large for his face.

  NELLY, WHO IS HE?

  AMBASSADOR MIDDENMITE, WARDHAVEN’S REP—

  RIGHT, I KNOW. “And I’m glad to see you this morning, Mr. Ambassador. I was trying to book passage home, and I’m told that I can’t.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that, too. I’ll have someone look into it. What I was calling for was something much more enjoyable. They are inaugurating the Top of Turantic tonight, a ballroom at the very top of the elevator station. Dinner and dancing with a truly marvelous view. I’m told it may be as enjoyable as any state ball on Wardhaven,” he said wistfully. Kris kept a smile on her face. Balls were the least of her problems at the moment.

  “When I received my invitation,” the Ambassador went on, “it included one for Your Highness. Might I send it on?”

  Kris had many things to do today; top among them was being a long way from Turantic before evening. Still, she swallowed the No that jumped to her lips. How often did Father say, “When you are trapped into doing something you hate, it is best to do it with grace. Think of it as fighting your way across a raging river. It is foolish to swim against the current.” Even at five, when Kris first received that lecture, she could not picture her father struggling across a raging river. Still, politics was full of sudden and fast currents, and Father did always arrive where he wanted. Maybe it was time to do a little floating with the flow while she dog-paddled like hell out of sight. Kris let her face form a frown for the Ambassador as she juggled a dozen thoughts at once. Someone was doing their level best to keep her here. How might she return this “favor”?

  “Mr. Ambassador, I didn’t come prepared for a full round of formal affairs,” Kris started. Abby shook her head, letting the merest hint of a smile crease her lips. “But I could probably throw something together,” Kris added. Abby took flaming affront to that and headed for Kris’s room in full huff. “I would appreciate it if you could arrange for the host of tonight’s gala to offer me the invitation personally. There are security matters to consider.” She glanced at Jack. He shook his head with a sigh. Kris suspected that protecting her through the mob scene of a ball was the last thing Jack was prepared to do solo.

  “I will be glad to pass along to Mr. Sandfire your openness to an invitation. He thought you might be in need of some entertainment,” the Ambassador effused.

  At the word Sandfire, Tommy and Penny were off their chairs, showing a range of emotions that would have earned any media actor the highest honor. Kris froze her face. So Sandfire thought she might be bored this morning. And not going anyplace either. Guess I didn’t spring Tom so fast.

  “If you are able to make an appearance,” the ambassador went on, “at the ball tonight, I wonder if I might arrange further invitations. Sandfire mentioned there was no telling how long this quarantine might last. This weekend is the annual yacht regatta, and I understand you quite enjoy a good sail.”

  Tommy’s skin took on a greenish tinge. Kris loved a good sail. Still, she should stay focused. “Mr. Ambassador, this is not a formal visit—” she started.

  “I understand, Your Highness,” the ambassador cut her off, then paused, shocked at his effrontery, but he went on. “You must understand, Princess Kristine, there is an election scheduled in the very near future. Many people here have fond memories of their past relationship with Wardhaven. Others seem intent on damaging that relationship, if not destroying it. I would hate to see my adopted planet in, ah, difficulty with my home. You must understand the problem we face here.”

  “I’ve been learning a lot very rapidly,” Kris said dryly.

  “There is little that we can do officially, now that we are foreigners,” the Ambassador went quickly on. “However, I have never underestimated the power of social contacts. Many of my friends have expressed interest in you personally, both as a Longknife and as a Princess. What you can do . . .?” he finished with an expressive shrug.

  Part of Kris wanted to protest that Lieutenant JG Longknife had not even been mentioned. She snapped a lid on that and considered the offer on its merits. Someone had made it impossible for her to get out of here. She could sit on her butt, fuming, or she could get out and do something, probably something that Mr. Sandfire had not planned on. Was this old coot trying to squander her time? She’d always considered her social life a waste. Just now, it was all she had. Maybe it was time to rethink herself. “Why don’t you look into other invitations while I consider matters?”

  “I would be glad to.”

  “By the way, I’ve tried to get a message off planet, to see if Nuu Enterprises could send a ship for me. That message is kind of having a slow go of it.”

  “Yes, I understand that the new systems on High Turantic are suffering ‘teething problems,’ I believe they’re called.”

  “Well, could you try to move my message up on the priority list? Nuu Pharmaceuticals makes one of the vaccines against Ebola. That ship could bring a load of it when it comes for me.”

  “Very good thinking, Your Highness. Yes, I will personally contact the Minister of Communications to see what can be done.”

  The Ambassador rang off, and bedlam broke out. “You are not going to any ball,” Jack snapped. “They could pick you off from a hundred different directions.” “Sandfire.” Tommy looked paler. “He’s the bastard that gave me the song and dance I fell for. Kris, you can’t do what he wants.” “Kristine Longknife, you can’t be that dumb” was Penny’s contribution. “You pulled off something pretty wild to stop that battle at Paris, but even you can’t snap your fingers and beat whatever is coming down here.”

  “I suggest this gown tonight,” Abby said, holding up a bright red arrangement that would draw every eye within a thousand meters, even if it was just Kris wearing it.

  Kris lowered her voice but pitched it to carry over the rabble. “Let’s sit down, calm down, and get some organization into our thinking.”

  The others did, although Abby
retreated to Kris’s room to return the gown. With everyone settled in, Kris began what had to be one of the strangest staff meetings in history. “Penny, from what graveyard did my father dig up that Ambassador?”

  “He’s a holdover,” she started quickly. “Ambassador Middenmite came to Turantic forty years ago. You might not know it, but Turantic’s vintners produce a particularly prized wine. Middy was able to corner the market on it for most of the off-planet sales. When we needed help setting up a business mission here, he knew everyone worth knowing.” She shrugged. “He wanted to retire from business a few years back when we needed a head of trade missions. He seemed perfect for the job. He helped a lot setting up the military equipment exchanges of the last decade, or so my former boss told me.”

  “So, he’s great window dressing, but not quite the sharp edge we need these days.” Penny nodded. “Who’s the real boss?”

  Penny flinched away from Kris’s gaze. “Mr. Howling handles the administrative functions.”

  “So,” Kris repeated, “who is in charge of the real work?”

  “Lieutenant Junior Grade, you are not cleared for that.”

  “And what about Princess Longknife?”

  Penny frowned, glanced at the ceiling, then shrugged. “That royal stuff is just window dressing as far as the Navy is concerned. It doesn’t put you in my chain of command.”

  “Reasonable answer,” Jack cut in with a sigh. “So, if our target here insists on going off to the ball tonight, what can you and your unnamed boss do to help me keep her from turning into a potted pumpkin before midnight?”

  “Actually, I can help you there without involving my boss.” Penny smiled brightly, relieved to be out of that morass. “I told you I had contacts with the local police. I can get you a full detail up here within three hours.”

  “And who will vouch that they’re clean?” Jack said.

  “I will. They’re professional cops. They do good cop work and don’t give a damn about the political hand-waving going on.”

  “Good enough for me,” Kris said. Jack turned on her, but she cut him off. “If we wait until we have full fields on all of them to your satisfaction, I’ll be well into my third year here with just you at my arm. I got us into this mess, Jack. I take responsibility for this part of the mess.”

  “Okay, for the ball tonight, I guess I can go along with that. But you have to keep to a minimum-risk schedule.”

  “No, Jack, I’m going along with the Ambassador.”

  “You’re kidding. You hate that social stuff.”

  “I hate social stuff with the usual suspects talking about the same things they’ve talked about since I was born,” Kris cut Jack off. “But how else do I get out and meet people here? How else do I figure out what’s going on? Besides, if everyone knows I hate the social stuff, so does Sandfire. If this is the last thing he’d expect me to do, it’s the first thing I ought to do.”

  “And it does have the advantage,” Penny said, “of getting you out among people who are very interested in Wardhaven and what this King thing might mean for them if they vote for the Liberal Party and join United Sentients.”

  “Kris, you have another call coming in,” Nelly announced.

  Kris stepped away from the table, tightened the robe around her, and stood in front of the living room screen. “Put me on.”

  A small portion of the screen changed to show a man in a gray three-piece business suit. He had either grown pudgy in early middle age . . . or was wearing several layers of body armor. His face was thin, relaxed, an open smile . . . that did not reach to his eyes. “Hello, Princess Kristine. I am Calvin Sandfire, the owner of the Top of Turantic. I understand the quarantine has caught you here, and you’re open to an invitation to tonight’s inaugural ball.”

  And just how and why do you know that? Kris wondered but chose to keep things social. Channel Mother, Kris ordered herself. “And I am so glad that I can provide you a royal presence for your first ball. Wardhaven and Turantic have so much in common,” she gushed. The flash flood of syrupy verbiage surged back and forth for the required moments. He stayed air head social, not touching again on her stranded status. The only fact exchanged was the starting time for the ball.

  “I’ll drop by your suite at the Hilton to fetch you. You will require an escort, won’t you? I understand your visit here was somewhat hastily planned.”

  Not nearly as hasty as you wish, Kris thought, even as she made sure sardonic did not slip into her face camouflage. “I don’t think that will be required. I do believe there are several men at the embassy dueling for the privilege of providing me an arm to lean on.”

  That brought a dry chuckle from Sandfire.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Kris said, raising a dramatic hand to her forehead. “Mother would slap me silly if I didn’t have my security detail review the ballroom beforehand.” Mother, of course, would never say such a thing. Kris stole that from a girl in high school devotedly understudying for Mother’s job.

  “I don’t see how that could be a problem,” Sandfire said with a slight twitch of his left hand. “I will have the head of Ballroom Security meet with him. Say one this afternoon?”

  “Certainly. See you tonight.”

  “I would not miss this for the world.” OFF, NELLY.

  “That is one lying son of a bitch,” Kris growled as she stomped back to the table.

  “See what I was up against?” Tommy said.

  “A real pro.” Jack nodded. “You notice how he converted your security team into just ‘him’?”

  “Didn’t miss it. Penny, I want you and Jack to be there at one along with as large a detail of those trusted cops as you can shanghai fast. I want to flood that place.”

  Penny chuckled. “Clear signal not to underestimate you?”

  “Something like that. Also, Penny, could you get a dress uniform for Tom? Tommy, me boy, you are escorting the Princess Royal to the ball tonight.” Kris was all grin.

  Tommy wasn’t. “You sure you want me?”

  Kris swallowed; she was starting to enjoy this, and once again she’d volunteer Tommy to be right next to the target. “I’m sorry, Tom. I can understand if you don’t want to be closer than fifty klicks to the nearest Longknife.”

  “That’s not it.” The usually unsinkable Santa Marian couldn’t raise his eyes from the table. “You were the one who dug me out last night. I owe you. I just thought, after all I said about wanting to be far away from you, that you might want to be far away from me.”

  Three steps, and Kris was at Tommy’s chair. Kneeling beside him, she lifted his chin until he was looking her in the eyes. “Tom, I need your help.” She glanced around at the tiny group she’d dragooned into whatever it was she was doing. “You may have noticed, we are a rather eclectic lot. You were a good man at my back when the darts started flying on Olympia. At Paris, you were my one backup when I faced down our Captain and took on a Fast Attack Squadron. I need your help again because, you may have noticed, there are not a lot of people available just now.”

  The Lieutenant looked at her for a long second, then took in a deep breath and let out a sigh that would have been the pride of his Irish grandmother. “And what else would I be doing with meself if I wasn’t galloping along right behind you into whatever mess you’re wanting to get into?”

  “Thank you,” Kris said, then got to her feet. “What else do we need to figure out?”

  “Why would this Mr. Sandfire be inviting you to the ball tonight?” Abby mused.

  “I’m a great decoration,” Kris said, fluffing her hair.

  “To rub your nose in the trap you’re in,” Jack grumbled.

  “To get a better idea of what he’s up against,” Penny said.

  “All of the above,” Kris decided. “Let’s see that he gets his money’s worth.

  At 12:50, six plainclothesmen, lead by an Inspector Klaggath, presented themselves. Abby ushered them in to stand before Kris while she, in her best noble fashion, thanked th
em for coming to her aid on such short notice.

  “Least we could do, ma’am,” Klaggath said, not buying into the royal fiction. “Seems that a certain kidnapping that we all were assigned to was resolved rather interestingly last night.”

  KRIS, I HAVE ISOLATED SEVERAL CARRIER WAVES. IT IS HIGHLY LIKELY THAT ALL THESE MEN ARE COVERED WITH BUGS.

  ABOUT WHAT I EXPECTED, NELLY. “I hope no one was hurt,” Kris said, doing her best to feign real concern.

  “No one that mattered,” Klaggath assured her. “And we understand the victim was recovered with little harm done. A good end all around.”

  “Then I look forward to dancing the night away.”

  Her knights errant off on their quest, Kris let Abby pamper her through a bath while the two of them discussed Heidelburg’s prospective social calendar for the next week. Any and all listening bugs heard a lot of social chitchat, but none of them tracked Kris’s thinking as she cycled her thoughts through what she’d gotten herself into, what might come of it, and what she wanted to do to Mr. Sandfire.

  Jack and Penny returned, along with a pack of bugs. Abby and Tommy did the debugging. Was it just coincidence they got matched girl-boy, boy-girl, and the exhausting search went over every inch of their bodies? Kris cringed as the jokes, funny on several levels, began to fly, and she only wished she’d gone out so Jack and Tommy could give her as thorough a pat down.

  KRIS, THERE IS STILL ONE ACTIVE BUG.

  ON JACK OR PENNY?

  NEITHER. IT IS A ROVING NANO GUARD.

  MOBILE NANO GUARDS! Kris almost said out loud. I THOUGHT ONLY AUNT TRU WAS WORKING ON THOSE.

  APPARENTLY NOT. FROM THE BANDWIDTH, IT IS ONLY AUDIO.

  CAN YOU KILL IT?