Intrepid (12 page)

A second later she hit Andy with all the force of the irresistible object. That had to be painful, and the poor kid was bound to find black-and-blue marks on herself in the morning where tender human flesh met the hard, unyielding tools of war. But Snow White’s mouth had found Andy’s, and the only sound to escape them was pure yearning.

Kris assumed it was pure. This had to be Andy’s wife. Otherwise, matters were going to get very interesting very soon.

“Mommy,” came from the door at the end of the cool room as a grandmotherly type, gray hair in a tight bun, carried a handful up what Kris now saw were dirt stairs.

“Mommy. Mommy!” came again as the cutest meter of humanity struggled to escape adult control and then did. Perched on her own two feet in defiance of gray hairs and the law of gravity, the little girl drove her pudgy feet forward, one half-balanced step at a time, to what had to be Mommy.

Kris thought Snow White’s hair was the fairest and most golden she’d ever seen, but the small version of her was golden almost to white. The toddler reached her mother’s skirts and gave them a puzzled look.

Mom was fully off the ground, her pale legs wrapped around the armored and camouflaged waist of the man holding her and showing no interest in letting go. The tiny tyke studied this image of her mom, a setup of skirts and legs Kris suspected was never seen before by these young eyes. After puffing up her lips into the most determined look ever worn by someone with only six teeth, the girl reached high above her head, grabbed a handful of motherly skirts, and pulled. “Mommy!”

Awareness seemed to dawn on Snow White quite suddenly. Awareness at several levels. First, of her daughter making absolute and personal demands. And secondly of the adults around the room. Kris wondered if she was wearing anything like the silly grin that seemed to have infected every witness to this reunion, which had managed to stop, just barely, short of full conjugal relations.

Suddenly demure, the mother dropped gracefully to her feet. Momentarily, a look flitted across her face that told of legs in hard contact with a sharp and unyielding object. . . and now hurting.

Settled gracefully on her own two feet, she reached down for the child, who. . . levitated. . . into her arms. Clearly, levitation is not a human skill. Of that Kris was sure. Even two-year-olds didn’t do that! But that
was
what Kris saw.

It was either time for glasses or a rewrite of the physics books. Or maybe Kris was looking at such short miniatures of the human condition as something nice to have around.

I am too young to have a ticking biological clock,
Kris warned herself and forced herself to grit her teeth against the little invader. But around her, several hard-case women Marines were showing soft, round eyes. And even Gunny was grinning like a proud grampa.

The woman held up her little darling. “Andy, may I introduce you to Gracie Ann, the youngest of the Fronour family and your daughter.”

“Glenda Sue? No.”

“Yep, she’s yours. She goes straight for my breasts, just like her dad.”

Which brought on a laugh from the locals, so Kris did her best not to blush. They were farmers, and things were done in front of them every day that Kris had been protected from until she was twelve and confronted with the red proof of her womanhood. . . in the quiet privacy of the girls’ restroom at school.

At least the principal had been quick to assure Kris that she was not dying of some horrible disease. Mother’s only reaction had been to agree that maybe the chauffeur should lay in a supply of female sanitary napkins, what with Kris’s age and all.

Thank heavens Henry’s wife Lotty had corrected the education Kris got from the girls out behind the gym.

Glenda Sue slipped Gracie Ann into Andy’s arms. Maybe it was the armor, but the two-year-old went just as quickly back to mother. But once her well-padded rump was safely held by mom, the toddler began to play with the strange man now in her world.

She yanked on his hair, pulled the mike from his helmet ring, gave it back, and pulled it off again as soon as Andy had reinstalled it. A tech took it this time and, with a smile, draped it over his shoulder out of the reach of pudgy fingers.

“It’s getting a mite bit crowded in here,” the whitebeard said, joining the group around Andy. “And Grampa wants to have a word with whoever is in charge of our rescuers.”

So saying, he led the way through the door and down dirt stairs. Whoever said that dirt here got hard as concrete once it got in contact with the air had it right. Kris was careful with her weight, but the stairs showed no tendency to crumble.

Too bad Kris couldn’t be equally careful with her height. Both the floor and ceiling were uneven. Kris divided her time, half watching her step, the other half looking out for her head. As luck would have it, she was watching her head when she stumbled and looking out for her feet when she banged her head.

Surely, there is no justice. At least, not for Longknifes.

Fortunately, they had not far to go. Down one flight of stairs from the cool room, along a short corridor, then down a ladder. At that point, they turned once, then a second time, and finally a third while going only a short way in each direction. That took them to a room with a rough table and a couple of chairs. The wall on both sides had been left with a step up that served a dozen people as seats.

At the end of the table, eyeing Kris, was a man easily Grampa Ray’s age. Only his days had been lived in the sun doing hard work, not at any desk. His hands were curled on the table, knuckles large and red. Kris suspected arthritis was finally enforcing a pause on the old workhorse. And he didn’t much care for the break. Beside him sat a woman of equal age.

Kris stood, waiting for introductions.

A few more people squeezed into the room, dimly lit by a single electric lantern. When the elder seemed happy with what a glance around told him, his scowl got even deeper.

“So we drew a Longknife. I thought I’d seen the last of your kind when Ray didn’t manage to get me killed on Hamdan II.”

“You and he seem to have saved humanity,” Kris said softly. “We haven’t heard from the Iteeche in over eighty years.”

The man snorted, but did grin at the praise. “Yeah, we did settle their four-eyed bacon. We sure did, didn’t we, Hilda?”

“Those of us that survived the butchers passing themselves off for colonels. Admirals,” the old woman said. Her teeth must have been false, for she had a whistle when she spoke. One eye was covered with a cataract or something. Curing things like that was supposed to be minor surgery.

Kris schooled her face to a gentle neutrality and waited to see where this was going.

“We ain’t needed your like for sixty years,” came from a man sitting against the wall. Around the wall, people nodded and agreed among themselves that he was right.

“You sure haven’t,” Kris said into their wave of self-affirmation. It died down after a while.

The old man shook his head and actually smiled at Kris. “Nice of you not to point out that we’re hiding down here like a bunch of rabbits just now.”

“I figured you’d bring it up when you were ready to,” Kris said. “If you don’t mind my asking. This is quite a setup you have. I kind of doubt you dug it while those raiders were in-bound. This well-prepared defense certainly has thrown a wrench into their plans. How’d you come by it?”

The elder’s smile deepened. He took the praise for what it was, a pat on the back, well earned, but “defensive.” Around the wall, some congratulated each other as if they had won the war.

“Didn’t Andy tell you? Iteeche and Earthmen was a fun game when he was growing up. They’d dig tunnels and underground forts and ambush those ‘dirty Iteeches.’ ”

“I told her about our forts,” Andy put in. “I kind of left out the Iteeche stuff. Out there, the four-eyes seem to be pretty well forgotten. At least where I was.”

“They are, some places,” Kris agreed. “I kind of have my great-grandfathers to remind me how close we all came to being an extinct race that might be the subject of an anthro paper half a million years from now for some four-eyed college student.”

“Do they have colleges?” Andy asked.

“I never heard tell they did,” the elder answered. “Did the generals know more than us guys down at the gun batteries?”

“Not that I ever heard,” Kris said. “We beat them back without ever learning a whole lot about them.”

“All we needed to know was how to kill them,” the woman said.

“So,” Kris said, changing the topic away from the distant past, “when did you start digging?”

“A bit after Andy left,” the old man said. “A tub wandered by here, not much trade on it, but a dozen couples got off. They were from a little place I’d heard of, Finny’s Rainbow. They’d been hit by a raider. He stole all their ready cargo, a lot of their herds, and for fun, burned out a couple of spreads. The merchant tub had given them a lift out of the kindness of his heart. . . and an IOU signed in blood.”

“We took them in, arranged places for them to work,” the old woman went on. “I didn’t much like the story they told. Told Bobby Joe that times must be getting raw back inside the Rim, its violence was starting to leak out to us. Some folks listened and spent their spare time digging. Others, city slickers, figured they knew better. I hope they’re enjoying the hobnailed boots on their backsides.” At that, she spat. Was it just coincidence that it went Kris’s way?

“You planning on staying down here until they leave?” Gunny asked. He’d come up beside Kris after the talking started.

“You some kind of sergeant?” the elder asked right back.

“I work for my living,” Gunny admitted.

“Back in the war, I had some good commanders. Some bad ones, too. Some men. A few women. This one any good?” the local man asked, nodding toward Kris.

“I’ve only been with her a couple of months, but I’ve seen her shoot her way into a few fights. Shoot her way out with most of her own right behind her. She’s not half-bad.”

Kris tried to show no reaction to the low level of praise Gunny passed her way. But then, laying it on thick would hardly have impressed this crew.

“Not half-bad, you say. Kind of hard to believe that of a Longknife,” the old man said.

“Ain’t they usually all bad?” the old woman beside him chipped in.

“That depends on what you want them for, ma’am,” Gunny fired right back. “I’ve seen her come to the aid of folks that sure needed it but had no claim for it. Hostages on a pirate ship once, a whole planet another time. I asked what you were planning to do down here. Sit them out?”

“I kind of hoped we could,” the elder admitted.

“They brought a boatload of troops in on a ship that don’t have much range. I’m no sailor, but the scuttlebutt among them was that nobody brings a short-legged boat to someplace they plan to strip clean. I think your bug infestation is not going away anytime soon. Me and my Marines, we’re good at getting rid of unwanted bugs.

“This here woman,” Gunny said, with a nod Kris’s way, “she knows her stuff. She’s just who you want in a mess like this.”

The old fellow— Bobby Joe, hadn’t the other woman called him— eyed Kris. “I never thought I’d be glad to see a Longknife,” he finally said.

“And I can’t believe you’re glad to see one now,” Hilda said. She said not a word more, but gathered up her self and stormed out. There was a quiet in the dimly lit room for a long moment after her exit. Kris listened to the clomping of her booted feet slowly grow softer as she got more distant. No one said a word until her steps were lost in the dark.

“Her husband died on Hamdan II,” Bobby Joe said softly. “My sister never remarried. Never forgot or forgave.”

“I’m sorry,” Kris said, wondering if some of those who died under her command would be remembered so long. So bitterly. Was it an unavoidable legacy of her career choice? If she ever had time, she’d have to think about it.

Bobby Joe shook himself, as if to break loose of a memory that would never let go. “Tell me, young Longknife, what would you have us do? Grab our squirrel rifles and charge that bunch?”

Kris stifled a frown. . . and swallowed a question.
What did my great-grampa do to you?
Instead, she switched her face to the cold, steely battle one, and said, “Let’s see what Thorpe does. His ship should be coming over the horizon just about now.”

That got a raised eyebrow from Grampa Bobby Joe. And silence from the kibitzers sitting along the walls.

Gunny smiled. Like a tiger catching his first glimpse of his next meal.

18

Captain Thorpe waited a full ten seconds after the
Golden Hind
rose above the horizon of Presley’s Pride’s settled area. He considered himself the epitome of patience as he gave his subordinates that sufficiency to gather data and analyze it.

No, it wasn’t much time, but we won’t be in sight of that Longknife brat all that long.

Still, the moment the allotted seconds expired, he turned to them. “What have you got?” he said, honing his voice to smooth, supportive, but eager for the kill.

“Several things,” the young sensor lieutenant said.

“Give me your best.”

“We hit something when we lased that lake. The steam coming off of it still shows signs of composites and heat shields.”

“Good, but I doubt Miss Longknife was planning on using them to withdraw.” Then the full implications of the data hit Thorpe. “She sank her ships! Damn, have you passed that along to Colonel Cortez?”

“Yes, sir,” Weapons replied. “He had a good laugh.”

Thorpe would enjoy a laugh, too, later, when Longknife was finally dead and they had time for drinks. “Tell me more.”

“The most solid datum we have is this trail, leading south from that homestead we lased, sir.”

“Most solid, huh.” Thorpe shook his head. “Ignore it. She put it there to distract you.”

“I figured as much, sir. Down here, north of Bluebird Landing, there’s a lot of activity. Radar reflections, hot spots that weren’t there last orbit. More electronic background noise than ever before. Something is on the move.”

Thorpe pursed his lips. “So the natives are finally getting restless, or. . . or my apprentice has scattered her forces all to hell and gone. I thought she was smarter than that.”

Thorpe tapped his commlink. “Hernando, what do you make of this?”

“Your apprentice should have paid more attention when she sat at your feet, William.”

“Has she scattered her forces so widely. Or is this all a ruse?” Thorpe asked, thoughtfully.

“No question she landed up north, the smoke from her burned boats tells us that for sure. Hah, she sank her boats. I told you we should have sent off that scow you lugged us out here on. Even some of my staff spend half their time looking over their shoulder, checking to make sure they can still run for it.”

“I couldn’t send it away because our investors want an immediate return on their money. We’re supposed to stuff it full of gold and wine and other good stuff and send it to them.”

“Wine! You haven’t tasted what passes for beer down here, have you? We ought to send them a boatload of that swill.”

“We’ll discuss our investors when we have something solidly in our hands,” Thorpe said darkly. “What is your situation?”

“Murky, as it has been since we landed. Either she has somehow managed to talk with some of the locals and got them out scrambling our picture, or she’s scattered some kind of force between me and where she made her main landing. Maybe a little of both. I’ve got a company of reinforcements coming upriver from Friendly Landing to reinforce Bluebird Landing. I’ve already sent off a platoon from Bluebird to do a search-and-destroy sweep along the main road between here and up north.

“Oh, and the local rolling stock. I don’t know how they keep those trucks moving, but half of them are broken-down at any one time, and the other half aren’t all that lively.”

“Get the impression that our financiers’ expectation of this place might have been a bit high,” Thorpe said, eyeing Whitebred, who was drifting in the bridge’s hatchway.

The moneyman didn’t enter the bridge but went elsewhere.

“Hernando, you see anything worth wasting a laser on?”

“Not a thing. But that was a brilliant shot you took last time. Gave us our first hard datum that she’d landed.”

“Glad you don’t need a shot. It would be only low power. In orbit, it takes hours to recharge one eighteen-incher.”

“Whoever you face was stupid, not to attack you as soon as you fired.”

“Longknife is not stupid,” Thorpe growled. “Do not underestimate her.”

“Yes, but who is pushing that ship up in orbit, assuming your wandering girl is down here, getting ready to play patty-cake with her uncle Hernando. I know what kind of ship captain I’m working with. How good a one did she hire? How good a one is willing to work with her after what she did to you?”

“Interesting question. And it could just mean he didn’t learn about my shot until he got horizon up next orbit.”

“I didn’t catch any tight-beam chatter from them.”

“So we’re all reduced to tight-beam or hollering.”

“I am, but man, I have the lungs for shouting.”

“Enough joking. You know what we can see from up here. I approve of your movement to contact. Take extreme care. We can’t be too sure what she actually has in front of you.”

“I will take care,
Capitan
. You do the same. And I will bring you the head of Princess Charmer.”

“Out,” Thorpe said.

He leaned back in his chair and studied the screen and what his sensor team had put up. It was a hazy collection of question marks, maybes, and possibilities. Was this what the ancients called the fog of war?

If you ask me, it’s no way for professionals to fight,
Thorpe concluded. Still, it was the fight he had. Damn the civilians for digging around like moles. Animals! If it had been up to Thorpe, he would have turned their little hiding holes into their graves. But the investors wanted a return on their money. Whitebred was always whining about that. Thorpe didn’t care. Thorpe was a warrior. He wanted a warrior to fight.

This Kris Longknife claimed a warrior’s name. And she had certainly shown some talent at it if you believed half of what the media reported.

Thorpe dismissed most of what he heard on the news. The wealthy and powerful owned the airwaves and put on whatever they wanted the rest of humanity to think. If it puffed up the Longknifes to think they’d spawned another war hero from their weak bloodline, they knew whom to pay to write the stories.

No, Thorpe would enjoy testing this Longknife brat. She’d been a half-decent boot ensign once upon a time.
Let’s see how long you survive when I know you are coming.