Intrepid (5 page)

As Kris so often did, Vicky had given her an answer, but only the tip of one. Kris wondered if that was all of the answer Vicky really knew.

“Georg,” Kris said, staking a regal right to a familiarity that a junior officer of her rank had no call on. “How many Greenfeld naval officers have as great a love of daughters as you have?”

The captain had started to frown at the familiarity. After all, he was trying to break one trillionaire daughter to junior-officer status and needed Kris to help, not hinder. But now he smiled.

“I don’t think there’s a captain in the fleet who’s resigned himself to enjoying, maybe I should say, surviving, feminine surroundings as much as I have.”

“Your oldest,” Kris went on. “She should have graduated from college by now. Did she join the Navy?”

Now it was the captain’s turn to ruefully shake his head. “Commissioned in the Nursing Corps on her graduation day.”

“Is she on the
Surprise
?”

“I would have gladly had her here, but there is a boy.”

“Isn’t there always?” Kris interjected.

“Sad to say, yes. He comes from a good family, and he is on a battleship. So she asked for orders to that battleship.”

“Do you trust him?”

The look Kris got from the captain was a puzzle she could not fathom. He almost smiled as he started again. “I will let you in on a state secret, Longknife girl. In Greenfeld, a loyal wife, be she wealthy or poor, will take nine months to present her husband with a fit little baby. However, blushing brides, in their eagerness, almost always do it in six or seven months. Strange that, no.”

The security guards behind the captain relaxed into their seats. Kris had no doubt that had the captain begun to reveal a more technical detail, they would have dragged him away. But from the smirks on their faces, a few of them might well be married and already beneficiaries of that bridal miracle.

“And your daughter?”

“Has been courted for almost six months and is still on active duty.”

Kris’s confused frown at that brought a dry “Get pregnant, get discharged” from Vicky.

“How medieval,” Kris said.

“I mentioned that to my father,” Vicky said, her voice desert dry. “Let’s say we agreed to disagree. Thank God I know where to get birth control.”

“Not on my ship you don’t,” her captain said.

The ensign wisely filled her mouth with her salad.

Kris stepped in to redirect the conversation. “When I asked why you are here, Vicky, I didn’t mean in the Navy. What I was really asking was why you aren’t back on Greenfeld. You cost your father a lot when he sent you to Eden, and I doubt your stay in the Navy will be any less expensive.” The way Captain Krätz rolled his eyes cut Kris’s doubt by half. “But what I really wonder, girl to girl, is why you aren’t tending to your knitting quietly back home?”

“I don’t knit, and I never do anything quietly,” Vicky shot back. “And I could ask you the same question. Why aren’t you doing something”— Vicky seemed at a loss for words. . . and settled for—“back on your lovely Wardhaven?”

“Why am I not on my lovely Wardhaven?” Kris said, beginning to move rather tasty but probably horribly fattening croutons out of her salad and into a row. “I don’t want to be any closer to my mother or father than I have to.”

That got a snort from Vicky and a thoughtful look from Krätz.

“I’m committed to a naval career and for some strange reason, the fleet can’t find any job for me near my father, the prime minister.” That got a third crouton into rank and a dry chuckle from the ensign.

“I refuse to become involved in politics. . . and every time I get too near Wardhaven, I get sucked into that mess again, and my father gets even madder at me. How am I doing?”

Vicky now needed the napkin to suppress her laughter.

Captain Krätz eyed Jack and got a serious nod of validation. Then he shook his head. “Your file is making better and better sense.”

“And if you report all this,” Kris said, “do you think it will make better sense to your intelligence analysts?”

“They wouldn’t believe a word.”

“Then let me add one more bit of wisdom. They shipped me off to Eden because they thought it was the only place in human space where I’d be safe.”

“And you might have been if I hadn’t been there,” Vicky said proudly.

“Hire better assassins next time. I didn’t even work up a sweat doing my escape and evade from those bozos.”

“I captured your grandmother,” Vicky pointed out.

“Major mistake on your part. The Marines took it personal. You never want a Marine company personally mad at you.”

“You realize she’s critiquing you,” Captain Krätz said.

“I thought she was just bragging.”

“You might learn a thing or three if you listen to her. Your father or his minions have been trying to take her out for a long time, and she’s still wrecking their plans.”

“More often than not, the only reason I’m messing with another’s plans is ’cause someone’s messing with me,” Kris said, with a sigh. “I wish you’d just leave me alone.”

“Is that why you’re out here?” Vicky asked.

“I figured if I was out beyond the Rim, I might get some peace and quiet. That why you’re out here?”

Vicky turned to her captain and raised an expressive eyebrow.

“Strange, isn’t it,” the captain said, “when chasing after pirates is safer than being back home.”

“Are we chasing pirates,” Vicky asked, “or is the
Surprise
just pretending it is?”

Captain Krätz shrugged his shoulders. “How’d you get a shot at a pirate?” he asked Kris.

“Notice how the
Wasp
looks like a simple little merchant ship.” They nodded. “They took the first shot. I got the last one.”

Their steaks arrived with appropriate trimmings. Kris and the rest paid appropriate homage to them before Kris threw out the next question.

“How bad is it, being a boot ensign in the Greenfeld Navy? My memories of being the junior officer aboard ship are much more fondly memorable as they disappear in the rearview mirror.”

“You started as an ensign?” Vicky asked.

“Yes,” Kris said, “with a captain who made my life far more miserable than I suspect Captain Krätz is making yours.”

Vicky raised her eyebrows as if to doubt that possibility.

“Making ensigns miserable is one of the prime perks of a captain’s job,” Captain Krätz insisted. “Is that not so, Captain?” he said to Jack.

“We have a thing called the Fifth Amendment, sir, and I’m going to invoke its protection, sir. Otherwise, I might have to apply for a transfer to your Navy.”

“We’re always looking for a few good men.”

“What is it about men?” Vicky exploded. “I get handed this ensign gig. My brother starts out as a commodore. He bosses Captain Krätz around. Me, I get bossed around by just about everybody. It’s not fair,” she growled at her captain.

He said nothing, just took another bite of his steak, chewed it for a moment, and then waved his empty fork at Kris. “As a lieutenant, two mighty promotions up from a lowly ensign, would you have any advice for my JO here?”

Kris thought the question over for a moment, then shrugged. “As a wise chief once told me, if you don’t want to be Navy, get out.”

Vicky scowled sidewise at her superior officer. He shook his head. “That is not an option for the moment.”

“I see,” Kris said. And thought some more. “Your brother started his Navy career as a commodore.”

Vicky nodded vigorously at that.

“From where I sat, that was part of what killed him.”

“What!” Vicky almost shouted.

“Do you disagree, Captain Krätz?” Kris asked.

The captain patted his mouth with the white linen napkin and put it down. “I can’t say that I do.”

Vicky studied them for a long moment. Kris let the silence stretch. She was learning that more often than not more was learned in the quiet between words than was ever conveyed by them. Now she waited for the young Peterwald woman to show she was learning. . . or not.

“Explain yourself. I would have thought that a commodore was safer, more powerful.” Vicky paused for a moment. “As an ensign I sure don’t feel any power. Or very safe.”

Kris eyed Krätz. He shook his head. “I can offer only advice. You have walked in her shoes and survived. You can speak to her from experience.”

Now Kris put her own napkin down and pushed back from the table. Beside her Jack did the same. Around them, the security people turned their chairs to face out, giving them as much privacy as their station and the risk factor allowed.

“A commodore does seem to have a lot of power. . . if he or she knows how to use it. Captain, did Hank know how to use the power of a commodore?”

The captain shook his head. “Sadly no. He played with the power, but he neither understood it nor knew how to wield it.”

“That was my observation, too,” Kris said. “Captain, how long have you been preparing to command a cruiser?”

“Ensign to command captain, twenty years,” Krätz said, “including two years commanding a destroyer, Your Highness.”

“How long had Hank worn the uniform?”

“Four months when he died.”

“That, Vicky, is what killed your brother. Power he didn’t know how to use. You’re an ensign. Do you have any power?”

“Painfully little.”

“Are you able to use it properly?”

Now Vicky turned to face her commanding officer. “I am learning to be a very good assistant communication officer.”

“You are,” he agreed.

Vicky turned back to Kris. “Are you saying that it’s better to do a job you know how to do than fake doing a job you can’t handle?”

“I think so.”

“I paid good money to get a copy of your file. It sure doesn’t look like you practice what you preach.”

Beside Kris, Jack snorted. “Amen to that.”

“Whose side are you on?” Kris asked, elbowing Jack.

“The side of me staying alive,” he said.

Kris got serious. “You bought my file. You read it. Did an analyst explain it to you?”

“I just got the file.”

“Captain, you might walk her through it. You can explain to her where I was just bleeding lucky and where maybe I had a little help from my friends.”

“Would you, sir?” Vicky asked, sounding like a boot ensign talking to her superior officer for the first time that evening.

“My orders are to educate you. To help you stay alive and learn. I think that could be considered part of my job. Though I warn you, your father probably would not consider Kris Longknife a proper role model for his daughter.”

“I don’t think any father would consider me a good role model,” Kris said dryly.

“Certainly not for any of my daughters,” Captain Krätz agreed. “But I remind you, Ensign Peterwald, anyone without dumb Longknife luck would have died a dozen times doing what is recorded in that file. And no, none would have occurred while you were paying the piper.”

Vicky looked very thoughtful as they finished their dinner.

Done, Captain Krätz stood. But before he turned to leave, he gave Kris an informal bow. “I believe your file says that your first skipper was a Captain Thorpe?”

“Yes,” Kris said, avoiding adding anything more.

“He is no longer serving in the Wardhaven Navy.”

“I believe not,” Kris said, trying not to sound evasive.

“I ran into him recently. He has hired on with a merchant shipping line that is providing irregular service to ports out beyond the Rim. Are you aware of these illegal colonies?”

“I’ve visited a few. Never ran into Captain Thorpe.”

“I understand such shipping lines are the main prey of the pirates. I hope nothing happens to your former captain.”

“So do I,” Kris said, not sure exactly what she was being told or how she felt about it.

Outside the restaurant, Jack leaned close to Kris’s ear. “How much you want to bet me you are going to regret helping that young woman stay alive?”

That was a bet Kris was not willing to take.

7

Four hours with lawyers experienced in what passed for a modern, up-to-date legal system on Cuzco, and Kris was missing Chance’s nice informal approach to the law.

While Kris had blown
Compton
’s bridge and all its watch standards to kingdom come, and with it the ship’s papers, what was left of the hulk still told a tale. The reactors had the serial numbers stamped on them by Westinghouse. That company’s database said they had been installed on the
Big Bad Bustard
, presently under Lorna Do registry. Its last-known port of call had been Nobel Pride six months ago.

A fast message to the port authority there brought back a ship’s bill of lading and, suddenly, the containers were talking, and the cargo was matching up. . . some of it.

Some containers were missing and some new ones had been added. Apparently Nobel Pride had not been the last port of call.

This might have been of minor interest, except the owners had insured the ship and cargo with a consortium of assurance companies. Now they were retaining lawyers. The case of Humanity v. the
Compton Maru
pirates moved into a larger courtroom.

Kris was taken aside by half a dozen pale men in suits and told that there would be a finders’ award for her and her crew. Now would the Navy kindly go back to doing whatever it was Navy people did when decent citizens weren’t interested in them.

Kris took one look at the quaint sum of the finders’ fee and had to leave before she punched out some well-dressed type.

The crew of the
Wasp
had gone through the experience of capturing her from pirates, and well remembered the prize money the Chance court had awarded them when the pirate ship was sold to become the
Wasp
. For the last two weeks there had been little talk among the different tribes aboard the
Wasp
other than how they would spend their portion of the prize money.

The crew of the
Wasp
firmly held that they had the main claim on the prize money. They had fought the
Compton
and captured her fair and square.

The Marines pointed out that they certainly had something to do with the capture of the pirates. So advised, the sailors graciously concluded that the Marines did have a point.

Few people are dumb enough to argue with Marines.

But when the boffins waded in with their claim, things got heated. “Where were you when they were shooting at us?” was a rather strong point in the sailors’ and Marines’ favor.

“Our necks were as much on the line as yours when that pirate was taking potshots at us.” And “It was three of the containers that we were in that got sliced open to space.” And “It was our sensors you were using for ship ID and targeting.”

That did seem to provide a certain counterbalance to “You was all hiding under your bunks.”

The atmosphere on the
Wasp
got downright frosty, and several mixed work details almost came to blows before Kris called a public meeting and let each side choose four speakers to say their piece. Being well aware her crew could implode, Kris took the extra precaution of having Captain Drago and Professor mFumbo included in their four. And met with them beforehand. Some might say the fix was already in.

Both captain and professor let their hotheads have their say, then carefully got the stampede going in a circle. The final conclusion had the advantage of a certain logic.

Clearly, the crew and Marines of the
Wasp
had their necks on the line as the
Compton
attacked. And they fought her until she was dead in space and surrendered. There was also no question the boffins had their necks on the chopping block when the
Compton
started shooting. Not a totally unforeseen event, since they had all signed on to a ship with one of those Longknifes, if not at the helm, then too close to it for any real comfort.

The final agreement split the prize money. The crew and Marines who fought the ship would get a double allotment from those who risked their neck aboard it. With portions being organized in accordance with the old law of the sea.

That left the crew in a happy mood. Gliding back to her quarters with Abby and Cara, Kris discovered just how far that happy mood went.

“And you will get part of that money, too,” Abby told Cara.

“Me!” said the twelve-year-old. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“Even the cabin boys on those old sailing ships got a portion,” Abby assured her.

“I could get some money?” Cara let out a squeal.

“For your college fund,” Abby pointed out.

“I’m going to college?”

“Why not. I did,” Abby said. Now Kris listened closely. Any new word about Abby’s hidden life before she started running Kris’s life was always to be treasured.

“But Ganny Ganna said a girl didn’t need to know more than she needed to—”

“You ain’t with Ganny Ganna, and you saw what her way of living ended up doing to your momma and Ganna.”

That left the youngster silent.

“I put myself through college at night,” Abby said. “I worked hard to earn the money and learn what I could. You, girl, can go to college like people like the princess do. The right way. And this money will be the start of your nest egg.”

Which all sounded great until the assurance people made their offer. Their finders’ fee would pay for about five minutes of education for Cara.

“Nelly, does Nuu Enterprises have an office on Cuzco?”

“Yes, Kris.”

“Get me in touch with our chief.”

The chief shortly referred Kris to the sharpest law firm on Cuzco dealing with maritime issues. Several of the partners had been following the
Compton
situation and were a bit disappointed not to have become involved in the case.

To their delight, Kris ended that.

“Exactly what is your interest in the
Compton
?” the senior-most partner asked Kris when he came on the line.

“I, and the crew of the
Wasp
, captured the pirate ship. Under the traditional law of the sea, the
Compto
n and cargo are ours.”

“All of it?”

“Until you persuade me otherwise.”

“Hmm, I’ll need to do some research.”

“You do. Be sure to check on the recent decision from Chance. You can contact, ah. . .”

MAYDELL ALLGOOD, Nelly put in.

“Maydell Allgood of the planet Chance High Court for a very recent decision.”

“I’m not sure we have them in our legal decisions database.”

“Well, you’ll want to see the case.”

“Very well, now about payment. Are you putting us on retainer or shall we take this on contingency?”

“What kind of contingency?” Kris reminded herself that not all the pirates were in the brig of the
Wasp
.

“Ah, you’re Kris Longknife. We’ve done a lot of work for your offices here. How about one third. If there is no money in it, you don’t pay us a dime.”

“And if there is, you get a third of it. Just a third, no other expenses, right?”

“Hmm, you drive a hard bargain, but yes.”

“Let me talk with the other interested parties,” Kris said, and rang off.

Captain Drago silenced his commlink. “We’ll get back to you after we’ve had some time to talk this out among ourselves.” Professor mFumbo, who’d just come on the bridge, agreed.

“We’ve got about a day to decide,” Kris added.

“Sad to learn we can’t hang all the pirates,” Captain Drago said, looking rather piratical himself, then added, “I’m glad I have both you and the professor here for a moment. Could we duck into my in-port cabin for a moment? Captain, you might want to come along, too,” he said, nodding to Jack.

Uh-oh,
Kris thought, but said nothing. With Kris and company, which somehow had grown to include Abby, seated around a small conference table, the captain closed his door.

“What do we intend to do next?” he asked. “Will we have to hang around here for all this court business?”

“Not if we hire a legal team,” mFumbo put in.

“We really shouldn’t be here long, not on official Navy business,” Kris agreed.

“So, what do we do next?”

“Explore,” mFumbo said, emphatically.

“Yes, yes,” Captain Drago said, looking like your average pirate with several loaded cannons up his sleeve. “But where?”

“Something tells me you already have an answer to that question,” mFumbo said, looking quite unhappy.

“Well, I’ve been looking at the fine print on my contract.”

“Abby,” Kris growled.

“Don’t you go looking at me, your high-ship-ness, this is the first I’ve heard about this.”

“I assure all of you, this is the first our honorable COR has heard about this. You see, I met a man in a bar last night.”

“If there is a treasure map with X marks the spot in this story,” mFumbo said menacingly, “you’re a dead man.”

“No, no map, I assure you. It’s just that a man I talked to is one of the Sooners we’ve been running into. His problem is that he is here, back on the inside of the Rim, and he, and a cargo he has arranged, need to be there, out beyond the Rim.”

“He wants to start up a colony,” Kris said slowly. “I don’t think I want to encourage that.”

“No, no, Your Highness, not start up a colony. His brothers sent him here to gather things they needed for a world that has been theirs since their grandfather staked his claim or snuck a claim or whatever we decide is the legal situation of these folks. Anyway, he swung a ride on a passing ship, but, what with the pirates and all, he hasn’t been able to get back.”

“With the
Compton
or
Big Bad
and her crew in the dock, different docks,” Kris said, “that may change.”

“Was the
Compton
the only pirate?” Drago asked.

That got shrugs or “Your guess is as good as mine” looks from around the table.

“Anyway, my contract says that I may offer passage and transport goods for a fee if it does not interfere with my principal duties.”

“And who decides that?” Kris asked, wondering just who and how such language had slipped into the captain’s contract. Apparently Grampa Ray wasn’t the only one trying to twist this voyage of discovery his or her way.

“My COR,” Drago said, with a more-piratical-than-usual grin.

“And what’s my cut of the take?” Abby asked through a cut-throat grin of her own.

“This is not happening to me and my science team,” mFumbo said, standing up in protest.

Kris shook her head. “And what high crimes am I going to be accused of this time? No, Abby. No!”

“But my contract,” Drago cried.

“No!” Kris repeated but was surely drowned out by “No, No, No!” from mFumbo.

“Would you at least talk to the man?” Drago pleaded.

“Why?” came from around the table, not just Kris.

“He’s been stuck here a very long time and really wants to get back home. And I’d rather he be the one to talk to you about, ah, some of the other aspects of his trip here.”

“What aspects?” Kris said.

“He’s waiting right outside.” Drago wheedled. That had to be a first for a ship captain.

“No, no, no,” mFumbo repeated.

“Would you keep a man from his wife and unseen newborn?”

“You’re laying it on mighty thick,” Jack said.

“He is truly a man in need,” Drago insisted.

“No, no, no!” said mFumbo, but he was sitting down now with a resigned air about him.

“I suggest that we have three votes,” Abby said, sounding quite reasonable. “First, if we’ll see the man. Then a second to see if we take him on as a passenger.” Suddenly the maid’s grin switched to pure viciousness. “And a third, if Drago loses the second, to decide if we space our beloved captain.”

The captain seemed to weigh the option, then nodded. “I’ll take those odds. You don’t know what I know about our traveler.”

As the room mulled that, the captain invited a young man in.

The man was in his twenties, dressed in worker’s jeans and flannel shirt, and flashed a smile full of innocence that most kids lose by five. “Hi, I’m Andy Fronour of Pandemonium.”

“Pandemonium, what kind of a name is that?” mFumbo asked.

“Grampa always said he didn’t want to roll out a welcome mat for just anyone. Thought that would keep down the layabouts.”

“Has it?”

“Wasn’t much more than a couple of dozen families until twenty years ago.”

“What changed that?”

“Say you’re a kid, eighteen, twenty, and your folks are true believing Abdicators. What do you do if you want off Xanadu?”

“Are you in the same system with Xanadu?”

“No. We’re next door to them, one jump over. Grampa came out a different set of jumps. Figured us to be five good long jumps from anyone. But we’re only three jumps, if you don’t mind a real crazy sermon after the second one.”

“How do they feel about you taking their rebels?” Kris said.

“It’s working out fine. We weren’t interested in the rest of the human race any more than they were. We just didn’t mind if you skipped assembly meetings. Didn’t have any real assemblies except for square dancing every Saturday night.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“No, the ship that dropped by had been to Xanadu and gotten the very cold shoulder. But as they were about to close down their on-planet sales, a couple of dozen immigrants showed up and asked for a ride to Pandemonium.

“A market that close got the skipper’s attention, and he was mighty glad for the guiding hand. Anyway, I can’t really say we weren’t glad for his coming, either. Our population had grown quite a bit, and we needed just about everything he had.”

“Which he gave you out of kindness?” Kris said.

“Nope, we don’t have that much hayseed in our hair. In the early years, Grampa paid for the start-up using some really strange hydrocarbon strings native to the planet. It had been a while since anyone came by, and we had a lot of them stored up. I’m told that some of them do really nice things with food.”

The strange biologies among the stars had provided more than one new spice and cured several diseases. The real question was why a ship captain who had such a source would quit visiting.