Intrepid (27 page)

“Kill us?” Kris echoed. “I don’t think you understand the power we have.”

“They will kill you. And me, now.”

To add emphasis, a rifle spoke. The wind from its bullet buzzed by Kris’s cheek.

“Guard detail,” Gunny shouted, and a dozen Marines formed a shield wall in front of Kris with their armored bodies.

Three more rifle shots came in fast succession. A Marine went down, cursing, only to stand up and remove a large rifle slug from his shoulder armor.

“Snipers,” was all Jack said.

Four M-6s snapped off single rounds. It was too far to hear the results, but there were no more rifle shots. None.

“Back to the shuttles. I think we need to talk to this man before we try to talk to anyone else here,” Jack ordered.

“Assuming we do any talking here,” Penny added.

The retrograde movement was handled smartly by the Marines. Kris and her new best friend ended up strapped into the first shuttle off. The
Wasp
dropped the fourth shuttle, loaded for bear with bombs and guns, to cover the liftoff of the last launch, but it wasn’t needed. Once Kris and Prometheus were gone, the city went back to making a tomb seem like party time.

44

Kris let Chief Beni start the interrogation while their shuttle was still taxiing downriver to find a good takeoff run.

“How did you hide your heartbeat? How did those snipers keep themselves hidden?” he demanded.

“We may be crazy, but we are not stupid,” the man snapped back. “We spent forty years seeking ways to make ourselves invisible to the coming alien hordes. Don’t you think we can handle a few minor things like our heartbeats? We have electromagnetic blockers the rest of you haven’t dreamed of.”

The chief didn’t look like he believed that, but with the evidence so recently rubbed in his face, he fell silent.

“Why do we have to take you with us?” Kris asked.

“Isn’t that obvious?” the man sneered. “I am a rogue, worse than a nonbeliever. I have talked to you, whom the Guides have placed under interdict. My life is forfeit in the worst and slowest way possible. However, rather than let me escape or talk to you, they would let me die quickly, a bullet in the brain.”

“And what is it that you are not supposed to tell us?”

The man did not snap a quick reply to that question. He hunched down, seemed almost to shrink in his seat. When he finally spoke, it was hardly a whisper. “I really don’t know.”

When he made no effort to expand on that, Kris relaxed into her own seat. The shuttle went to full boost, discouraging conversation. Kris let it ride.

Xanadu was a puzzle. It had been so to start with. It was only getting worse as they got deeper into it.

It took two orbits to get all the teams back aboard. Prometheus sat huddled in on himself in her staff room, guards at the exits. He’d emptied his stomach on the way up; never in microgee before, it did not go well with him. Kris had a boffin doc look in on him. He prescribed a pill. The man took it, and a cup of water, but turned down food and drink.

Kris settled into her chair, as Jack and Gunny glided in last. Abby, Penny, and Captain Drago had been there first, followed quickly by Professor mFumbo, who made a point of reminding Kris that research had been promised the number-one priority next.

Kris had no time for squabbles. She was busy replaying the previous visit to Xanadu, trying to figure out this change. Yes, she’d played her cards heavy-handedly in the face of obstinate rejection from the Guides. That would account for the general reaction. But why was this man here? What had changed for him?

“When we last stopped,” Kris started slowly, “you and your son were our original contacts. Where is he?” Kris said, a guess. Maybe a shot in the dark.

“My son is gone,” the man whispered.

“Gone where?” Kris asked.

Now the man looked up at her, eyes misting. “I do not know. He’s gone. Not just out of town. He’s left Xanadu!”

“We found people from Xanadu on Pandemonium,” Penny said.

The man just shook his head. “You don’t understand. Lucifer didn’t run away. He left Xanadu with the Blessings of the Guides. That doesn’t happen. He left with three dozen young men and women. Together. All with Blessings. Never have the Guides done that. And they took their burial shrouds with them. Shrouds and a handful of dirt from our family garden. They will not come back alive.” Now he raised his eyes to Kris’s.

“Not unless you can do something to save my son. Will you? Please don’t tell me that I’ve thrown away everything I hold dear to save my son, and you won’t help me.”

The temptation to give a snap, “Yes, of course,” was hard on Kris’s lips. But throwaway words would be a travesty in the face of this father’s begging. He’d given up everything he believed in for his own flesh and blood. If Kris made him a promise, she’d better be willing to redeem it with the same coin.

Kris looked around. While Prometheus had been talking, Colonel Cortez drifted in and pulled himself down into a chair near the door. He took in the man’s grief with sad eyes.

Jack, however, showed what she saw on most faces. This man was a nutcase. He might have just walked away from a can of nuts, but just why was much open to doubt and not worth anyone’s blood.

That was it. The Marines had just paid a high price for a planet’s freedom. This man would have to trump that if he wanted them to take a bullet for him.

Kris measured her next words with a laser range finder. “Mr. Prometheus, let me see if I understand you.” The man locked eyes with her. Kris had often held people’s attention at political rallies, command meetings. She’d never held anyone’s attention as tightly as she did this man’s.

“Your son has left Xanadu. Something that never happens.”

He nodded.

“He did so with a few dozen other youths on a mission for the Guides. A mission that they all believe will be suicidal.”

Again, the man in the toga nodded.

“But you have no idea what that mission is.”

Prometheus leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Correct,” he said, then added, “except that my son told me that they’d set the nonbelievers to such a war among themselves that the aliens would hardly find a dozen eyes to boil when they got here. He mentioned that once, then got quiet.” The man’s eyes lit up. “Could that help you?”

Jack shook his head. “Sir, human space has a hundred powder kegs just waiting to explode. Kris here has personally yanked a half dozen sputtering fuses out of as many kegs.”

The light went out of the eyes of the father.

“But,” Kris put in, “we are in the habit of chasing fuses and pissing on them. Hasn’t made us a lot of friends,” she said to a general chuckle around the room. “If your son has just become a fuse, or a set of tracks that will lead us to one of those fuses, I think you can count on us looking into this.”

“Can you save my son’s life?”

Kris reflected on the trail of death and gore she’d left over the four years of her Navy career. That sent a shiver down her spine. “I can try, sir, but I can’t promise anything.”

She glanced around her table. None would tell this father that he’d come to the right person to plead for someone’s life. People died around Kris. Friends, enemies, Kris was an equal-opportunity totem of death. She hadn’t set out to be that, but there was something about the name she bore. Longknife.

People who got too close to a Longknife got dead.

“Captain Drago, set course for Cuzco,” Kris said. “It’s big. Maybe they can tell us the latest in rumors.”

“And we can find out about our prize money,” the ever-piratical captain added.

45

The
Wasp
docked at High Cuzco station just in time for a late supper. That was perfect, since the principal partner in Cut, Throat, and Hack insisted on doing his talking to “Her Highness,” over dinner, not in his office.

“Why should we tie ourselves to the salt mines? That’s for the lesser people.” The man, likely older than her father, gave off strong hints they might make an evening of it.

Kris took an immediate dislike to the fellow. Not yet an intense dislike, but she suspected the night was yet young.

“You’re not going without a security detail!” Jack insisted.

“I’m going on a date with my lawyer. Why should I need a security detail for a date on a safe station like High Cuzco?”

“Little lady, you weren’t safe on a date on New Eden, the gun-control capital of human space,” Jack pointed out.

Kris refused to laugh at his joke. “Krätz and the
Surprise
aren’t alongside, are they?”

“No, so Miss Vicky Peterwald is probably elsewhere plotting murders we know nothing about.”

“And which need not concern us. No, Jack. This Morley Preston wants some private words with me. I want to hear them. I do not want him surrounded by my henchmen. Understood?”

Jack growled, “I hear you.”

“Good.” Kris surveyed herself in the full-length mirror; Abby had outdone herself. Kris almost looked beautiful. . . to her own eye. The nose was still too large. But the padded push-up bra made good use of what little Kris had, using it to catch the male eye, then switching to padding for what wasn’t on full display. And none was explosive; Kris had double-checked that.

Cinched at the waist, the blue ensemble flared out to sway nicely when she walked and give her plenty of space if she needed to run. It also hid her automatic very nicely.

Kris wasn’t totally stupid.

Captain Drago appeared at the door of her stateroom. “There’s a Morley Preston, Esquire, waiting on the quarterdeck for you. He says he’s your date for tonight.”

“Those words,” Jack spat.

“I’m quoting,” the captain insisted.

“Kris, this is a bad idea.”

“Now, Jack,” Kris said, “if he gets out of hand, I’ll break both his arms and one leg and walk home, okay?”

“What’s wrong with shooting him?” Jack asked.

“And leave that mess for the waiters to clean up, Jack? People talk about me enough. I simply will not add anything unnecessary to all the rumors.” So saying, Kris gave Jack a peck on the cheek. . . and got a whiff of him. All man. Why hadn’t he invited her out for the evening? Now
that
would be a date.

Abby handed Kris a wrap that was gossamer thin.

“Gosh, Princess, you look beautiful,” came from a certain twelve-year-old peeking from behind Captain Drago.

“Abby, you’ve got to teach that girl a proper appreciation for classical beauty. And that flattery will get her nothing around me.”

“Well, baby ducks, you may not think yourself a beauty, but what I done with you sure qualifies for beau-dacious.”

Kris couldn’t argue with that.

Jack did not follow Kris to the quarterdeck. Caption Drago did only long enough to remind her. . . again. . . to look into the matter of prize money for the pirate ship they’d captured. And to report that the
Serpent
had just jumped into the Cuzco system.

“With you running us at 1.25 gees and them keeping to an economical .5 gees, I’m amazed they aren’t farther behind.”

“I’ll also look into selling that ship,” Kris said.

“I hope the Cuzco legal system doesn’t tie the
Serpent
up in legal limbo,” the captain said.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” And she’d better, or whoever tried to steal Panda might get by with paying even less for the lost gamble.

Morley Preston was not exactly waiting for her on the quarterdeck. He was talking to someone on net, talking quite forcefully. “Stand up to them, George. They’re robbing us blind. You’ll never make partner giving away our clients’ lifeblood.” His pacing took a turn at that point that brought Kris into view. “Now, I’m having dinner with a very attractive young lady. Talk to me in the morning. And bring me good news.”

He blinked, which may have been his way of cutting the connection, and with the blink took on a totally different persona. The angry man was gone; a gracious host took his place. The man’s bio said he had five years on Kris’s father. If so, then his years had been much more kind. There was no gray in his black hair. His belly would fit comfortably on a Marine, though Kris suspected they earned the flat quite differently.

And he smiled, a toothy affair that involved most of his face. Kris should have felt warmth.

She didn’t.

Maybe it was the quick change from anger to smile. Or how lightly the smile fit, like it might blow away at any moment.

Kris offered him a wholehearted smile, teeth flashing, and took his offered hand.

“There are so many quality restaurants to choose from,” he said. “We have a reputation across half of space for fine food.”

“It’s your station,” Kris said lightly. “Point me where you want to go.”

“Well, I’m a simple man at heart. Meat and potatoes. What do you say to a little place that treats a steak so well that steers are lining up at the back door to get in the meat locker.”

Having once stocked a meat locker for a restaurant, Kris found the exaggeration almost funny. She suppressed the laugh, and said, “Lead on.”

The steak was as good as promised. Smothered in mushrooms and peppers and a sauce that did not overpower the beef but brought out its flavor and expanded on it, Kris ate it with a fork. Mr. Preston dominated the table conversation. He knew business. He and Grandfather Al would have enjoyed the time. Kris enjoyed the steak.

When Morley did invite Kris to carry the conversational ball, she talked about what the boffins wanted to do in the coming voyage of discovery. Kris hadn’t realized she’d captured so much of what the scientists told her until she realized what she was saying was boring her dinner partner if not to tears, at least into changing the conversation.

Mr. Morley Preston enjoyed talking about Mr. Morley Preston and he knew his topic endlessly. But among all the dross he threw her way, there was an occasional gold nugget.

“You’re not really planning on jumping to Birridas, are you?”

“Is there a problem? It has a half dozen jump points and the shortest one to a nebula that most fascinates my boffins.”

“You might want to take a detour. It just joined the Greenfeld Alliance. A rather sudden arrangement. Poor fools placed a contract for a full space-defense system before the breakup. A half dozen firms on Cuzco formed a consortium to bid on it, too, but Peterwald undercut us.” He almost spat that.

“Turns out there was more riding on the contract than just money. The defense system started late and stayed behind schedule. So there was nothing to present a counterargument when a Greenfeld battle squadron showed up last month and suggested they join the Alliance.”

“That’s a story we hear a lot,” Kris said, thinking
detour
.

“Strange thing is, I understand Henry Peterwald was very excited about the new addition to his empire. There’s the red-striped hornlizard that roams South Continent. A real nasty beastie. Henry’s already off to hunt it. I hope they get that planetary defense up before he gets there.”

Kris didn’t give much thought to the space-defense system. If a battle fleet took it, it was likely still in orbit. But a new planet, just occupied and not fully broken to its slavery? And a fast, deadly monster to hunt? How many ways can a man die?

And if you threw in a few dozen young kids on a suicide mission from their Guides. . . ?

Kris swallowed a bite of steak and let her lawyer talk of anything he wanted to. She’d learned early on to ignore mere noise. Now, sharp edges, bullets, and lasers. They were real. Those she did not ignore.

Somehow that flat stomach of his didn’t require him to pass up dessert. While he enjoyed a magnificent confection of chocolate and nuts, Kris paid tentative honor to a fruit dish.

And got down to business.

“I assume you recall the matter of the pirate ship we brought in under prize crew last time we visited?” brought a chuckle and “I’ve done little else but deal with it since last you were here. Do you have any idea how old the admiralty rules of prize are? They’ve never been applied to space.”

“I believe they were applied a bit ago. By a court on Chance if my memory is right.”

“Yes, yes, I know about that. My clerk had the devil’s own time looking up that case. Chance is not the center of the law. Or center of anything. Their case law hardly sets precedent. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that to you. I’m just telling you what the lawyers of a half a dozen involved parties are telling me.” And he proceeded to exhaust a quarter hour telling her all the things that she did not want to hear.

“So when do you think this will be settled?” she finally got in edgewise.

“I have no idea, though a trial balloon is being floated about. What with so many interested parties, maybe the best thing would be to sell the ship and distribute even portions from that sale to all the parties,” he said with a brilliant smile.

For the next ten minutes he expounded about the splendor of this idea. One that, if Kris was right about the price of ships and the cost of lawyers, would probably yield enough to pay off all the lawyers’ bills and not much more.

Kris spent the time reviewing her options and modifying her action plans. The
Feathered Serpent
must not present its papers to the port master of High Cuzco. Between Abby and Drago, they ought to be able to reflag that ship over the next day or so.

The papers needn’t be perfect, just good enough to get the ship a load of fuel and on course for Wardhaven territory.

Colonel Cortez was another problem. She’d planned to turn him and his legal problem over to the fine fathers of Cuzco. When Morley finally ran down, she tentatively asked his advice.

“Oh, you crossed swords with a filibusterer. And lived to sit here in such a lovely dress and tell me about it. You must have some brilliant Marines to handle your dirty work for you, Your Highness. Absolutely brilliant.”

Kris saw no reason to claim that she’d gotten her own lovely hands dirty. Abby had said many bad words as she’d spent much of the trip back restoring what she called Kris’s “princess skin.”

“Your Highness, I’ve heard about these things. Never drawn up a contract for such an expedition, though I must say a contract to hold up among thieves would be truly a work of art.”

Kris was willing to bet money, good Wardhaven dollars, that the original boilerplate contract for this kind of thing had been done by Morley Preston, Esquire, himself.

Kris cut through the jungle of verbiage with a simple question. “Do you think the ground leader of such an expedition could get a fair trial here on Cuzco?”

The man didn’t even bat an eye. “Oh my, of course, Your Highness. He would get the fairest of trials. I’d even take him on pro bono, assuming he agreed to sign a contract to let us agent him once we’ve got him off with parole and community service. I suspect many people would pay well for his advice on what to do. . . and not do in a matter like that. The successful ones say so little. He’d be quite a moneymaking profit center.”

Kris stood. Dinner was over. Indeed, if she didn’t get this snake out of her sight, her dinner was likely to end up all over the front of him. . . a not-unpleasant thought at the moment.

Morley stood. “But I was hoping that you and I might enjoy the evening. You’ve been so long aboard ship, and I understand that as captain, you can’t, you know, enjoy some of the more pleasant aspects of adult life.”

Kris was examining just how she’d break two arms and a leg. But she’d spotted Jack in civvies holding down a table with a woman Marine. Gunny stood only a second after Kris did.

The good guys had not let her out of their sight. And knowing them, they’d probably feel obliged to help clean up her mess. No, she’d keep her dinner down. . . and put this maggot behind her. NELLY, MAKE A NOTE. I WILL NEVER DO BUSINESS WITH ANY FIRM INVOLVING MORLEY PRESTON AGAIN.

NOTE TAKEN. I AM ADVISING NUU ENTERPRISES OF YOUR DECISION.

Turning her back on the lawyer, she marched for the door. Quickly, her security detail formed on her. Only when she was out of the restaurant, and far from the air sullied by that man, did she slow down.

Jack came up on one side of her, Gunny the other. She took both their arms. “I am so glad to see you two.”

“That bad,” Gunny said.

“I am so glad I’m sharing my life with a bunch of heart-breakers and hard cases the likes of you,” she said. She would have loved to rest her head on Jack’s shoulder, but there was a limit to what an officer could do, even away from the ship. Even when she was dressed up for a night on the town and so was he.

There was a lot to hate about what she did. The terror. The blood. The killing. The dying.

But there was a lot to like about it, too. Sometimes she got to stop some of the really bad stuff from happening, like Panda. And she got to do it with the likes of men and women like those around her.

She’d put up with a lot of long cruises for that.