Redoubtable (17 page)

“Here,” Kris said, taking in the sweep of the Emergency Room, “you can save a dozen. Maybe two dozen each night. Advising Vicky, you could save the lives of millions.”

“Who’s this Vicky,” Gail demanded.

“A kid I knew a long time ago,” Maggie said.

“A kid who can save millions?”

“She’s grown up now,” Maggie answered.

“And she’s trying to carry the heavy burden of her birth,” Kris said. “She needs help. Help from someone who lets her be her better self.”

“I need some time to think about this,” Maggie said.

“I have to keep moving. You can come with us now. If you don’t, I don’t know if I can come back for you later,” Kris said.

“Hold it,” Gail cut in. “Who’s this Vicky?”

“Just a kid I knew,” Maggie repeated.

“Who now has dinner on a battleship with the likes of Princess Kris Longknife,” Gail went on. “I’ve heard tell that Victoria, murdering bitch, Peterwald is on a battleship up at our station. Is that the Vicky you’re talking about? It has to be.”

“And if it is?” Kris said.

“I don’t want to work with nobody that helped that murdering bitch over the sniffles. The doc should have drowned that one at birth.”

“So much for the Hippocratic Oath,” Maggie said softly.

“Kris, we really need to be not here,” Jack said.

“Maggie, I offered to talk to you in private.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Will you
please
come? Now!” Kris said.

Maggie looked at her coworkers. Blood was rising in their eyes. Even some of the patients looked ready to grab something and start swinging. If ever Kris had wondered how the average person on the street in the Greenfeld Alliance felt about the Peterwalds, the unanimous vote tonight in this small part of their realm was not going well for the ruling family.

“Okay, okay,” Maggie said, stripping off her unused gloves and following Kris toward the exit. Jack stepped between Kris and Maggie, grabbed their elbows, and forced them to a trot.

Behind her, Kris could hear sidearms coming out from where the Marines had hidden them. “Calm down, folks. We’re moving on. No need for anyone to get hurt.”

Once out the door, Jack said, “Run,” and they did.

22

The
young Marine had worked a miracle with the truck’s motor; it was running smooth as silk. He’d also turned the rig around; it was aimed downhill. Everyone piled in. This time, Doc Maggie was in the front seat between Kris and Jack. A complaining Chief Beni was helped into the back of the truck by a pair of Marines.

Jack put the old truck in gear. It bucked a couple of times in protest, but then, as it rolled downhill, it thought better of its complaints and became downright cooperative.

Kris glanced back at the hospital. Nurse Gail was scowling at them . . . and making a note on her med board.

“Chief, I think we need a new license plate,” Kris said.

“Yeah, I saw that, too. I’m working on it.”

At the first red light, one of the young Marines hopped down and did things to the plates. “Consider our problem solved,” the Chief told Kris through the open back window.

“What is the problem?” Doc Maggie asked. “I’m assuming you didn’t come down here just to offer me a job.”

“Actually,” Kris said, “you are the main reason we’re down here. Vicky really needs somebody she can trust.”

“But we do have other problems,” Jack put in.

“Such as?” Maggie asked.

“You wouldn’t happen to know of a new heavy-industrial plant anywhere nearby?” Kris said.

“Where they might be putting together 5-inch lasers to arm pirate ships,” Jack added.

“It would likely be near the bay,” Kris said. “Someplace where it is easy to load freight shuttles and not have a lot of people looking over their shoulders at the manifest.”

“There is an old plant that has gotten really active in the last couple of months, or so I’m told. They don’t have a very good safety program. I’ve had to mend several broken arms, legs, a caved-in chest,” Maggie said. “And every time someone gets brought in, they’ve got a rent-a-cop escort. Supposedly to look after them, but I always felt they were there more for the intimidation than the care.”

“Where is this place?” Jack asked.

“You’re heading for it,” Maggie said. “My bus passes it every day on the way home. But you won’t be able to get in there. There’s a tall fence and guards walking it.”

“That won’t be a problem for us,” Kris said. “Chief, Nelly, get ready to deploy your little friends.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” and “Already there,” came back at Kris.

The truck chugged along in the slow lane. Traffic was getting thicker as the morning got seriously started. The sidewalks filled up with people in work clothes hurrying to wherever they had to be. The light ahead of them turned red just before they got there.

Jack braked to a halt.

A van pulled up beside them. A big car closed in behind. A motorcycle pulled up to Kris’s right, occupying the bike lane. The young woman, holding tight to her driver, glanced at Kris and smiled a good morning.

Two old ladies walked up to the corner and stood there, half in the street, ready to slow walk their way across as soon as the light changed.

The smiling girl produced a pistol at the same moment that a truck came to a screeching halt in front of them, totally blocking them in.

Jack slammed the truck into gear and started to floor it, yanking the wheel to the right.

“No, Jack!” Kris shouted, making a grab for the wheel even as she pulled out her service automatic. “You’ll run over the old ladies.”

A door slammed open on the van beside Jack, and three gunners with machine pistols showed themselves at the ready.

Behind Kris, Marines went for their weapons as they dropped down, taking advantage of whatever cover sacks of corn might give them.

That horrible second between shock and deadly action stretched.

A man stepped out from behind the truck in front of them. He wore light green slacks and a blue windbreaker. His hands were shoved deep into his pants pockets.

“I understand Kris Longknife is with you,
amigos
. I’d like to talk with her. I mean, if you wouldn’t mind not shooting anyone for a few minutes, I’d really like to pass a few words with her.”

23

Kris
took a deep breath as she slowly reached for the door handle. Her automatic was in the other hand, pointed out, though not at anyone in particular.

She let the breath out slowly as the door creaked open. Kris did everything slowly as she tried to let her stomach . . . and her trigger finger . . . catch up. She’d been alert but confident, then suddenly switched to ready for deadly action. Now there was a guy standing there as casual as could be asking for a few words with Kris as nonchalantly as some girls asked for her autograph.

Kris’s neck was definitely putting in for whiplash compensation.

“Since you know my name, would you mind telling me yours?” Kris said as she put one foot on the pavement.

“Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. I’m Manuel Artamus. My friends call me Mannie. I’m the mayor of Sevastopol. At least that’s what they’ve been calling me since all hell broke out a few months ago.”

“I think I’m glad to meet you,” Kris said, stepping away from the truck.

“Good,” Mannie said, then raised his voice just a bit. “Guys, gals, let’s put the guns away. It would be a shame for us to have an accident when things are going so well. Grandmama, you can go home now. I’ll have Danny take you and Aunt Reina back to your place. As you can see, things are going fine.”

“You be careful,” said the older of the two women Kris hadn’t let Jack run over. “She’s a Longknife, and you know you can’t trust them.”

“Danny,
please
,” said Mannie.

The passenger door opened in the car that had closed in their back, and a young man hurried over to help the two gray-haired ladies into the backseat of their ride.

“Guys, move the van. You’re losing me votes blocking rush-hour traffic,” Mannie said, and the van with the three gunners drove through the now-green light and pulled into Momma’s Diner across the intersection.

“Would you mind moving your truck to Momma’s?” Mannie asked Jack.

The Marine officer looked daggers at Kris, but she waved him on, and he went.

Mannie walked up to Kris and offered her a hand. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to genuflect or kiss your ring. I hope this will do.”

“I’m happy with any greeting that doesn’t involve small-arms fire or high explosives,” Kris said, giving and receiving a firm handshake.

Mannie casually pointed the way across the street. “Momma’s has some of the best coffee in Sevastopol. And her pies are something you just have to taste before you leave town. Fresh organic apples. Real butter. Honest to God honey. None of that fake sugar that you can never tell where it came from.”

He opened the diner’s door for Kris. If the food was half as good as the smell, he had not oversold the place. It was about half-full.

Jack, Abby, Doc Maggie, and Chief Beni occupied a round table down the left-hand side of the diner. Kris’s four Marines were at the next table up against the wall behind Jack. Mannie’s henchmen held down two tables behind a pair of vacant seats at Jack’s table.

No hardware was in sight. The people filling up the right-hand side of the diner went about their morning business.

“Well, don’t just stand there letting the flies in, Mannie. Sit a spell and take the weight off your feet,” a cheerful waitress of middle years yelled from where she was filling a coffeepot from a device that looked like only a rocket scientist could build it . . . or operate it.

Mannie waved back and led Kris to the vacant chairs at her people’s table. He held Kris’s chair for her while she sat, then held up two fingers. “Two more for this table, Kelly.”

“On their way,” the waitress shouted back.

“You come here often?” Kris said.

“It’s a good place for a morning staff meeting,” he said, settling into his seat.

Kris waited for the coffee to arrive, pie orders placed, and the waitress to withdraw before she said, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

Mannie folded his hands on the table and stared Kris straight in the eyes. “I understand this morning that you’re serving Miss Victoria Smythe-Peterwald as a kind of ambassador with limited portfolio.”

“I hadn’t thought of my job quite in that light,” Kris said, “but I can see where it kind of has that appearance.”

He nodded at Doc Maggie. “I have no problem with your contacting Dr. Rodriguez and offering her a job. I think we will all benefit from a Peterwald having an advisor who isn’t a bloodthirsty psycho.”

“I’m glad we can see eye to eye on that,” Kris agreed.

“I have to admit,” Mannie went on, “that your coming down here all hush-hush to contact the doctor rather than Victoria just calling her and buying her a ticket on the next shuttle up gives me a bad feeling about the way the Peterwalds are running this railroad. Bad feelings.”

Coffee arrived, and Mannie took the time to add milk and sugar to his mug. Kris sipped hers black.

It was quite good.

“I could be down here for other reasons and just dropped by the hospital for Doc Maggie because I was in the vicinity.”

Mannie tasted his coffee, made a happy face, and put it down. “Yes, there is the other matter of your mission down here. That bothers me a lot more than losing the services of a very good and dedicated emergency-services doctor. We need to talk about that, but first, I really wish you would place a call to Victoria Peterwald and see if we can set up a meeting with her.”

“A meeting,” Kris said cautiously. “For what reason?”

“That’s kind of hard to put into words. Not that I don’t know what I hope to come of the meeting, it’s just what I’m hoping for is kind of old-fashioned.”

“Try me,” Kris said.

“We’d like the king to grant our city a charter.”

“A king’s charter,” Kris said. “You do know that Greenfeld doesn’t have a king.”

“Yes, I know. We seem to be stuck with all the worst aspects of a tyrant without any of the upsides of nobility. You certainly understand the limits of noblesse oblige.”

“It’s yanked her chain a few times,” Jack said.

“Then you understand our problem here. We in Greenfeld have the most exquisite constitution in human history. The only problem with it, if it can be allowed to be called a problem, is that nobody ever uses it. It’s a magnificent wall decoration somewhere in the capital. But it’s never allowed to complicate the matters of daily business. You understand?”

“I don’t imagine you’ve had this conversation with anyone from State Security,” Abby said. “I see that you still have all your fingernails.”

Mannie held up his hands, displayed hands unmarred and fit for a concert pianist. “Yes, silence is often the better part of valor. However, you may have notice that Greenfeld State Security is recently conspicuous by its absence.”

“It didn’t make it any easier for us to sneak into town,” Jack pointed out. “Have you taken over the snitch concession?”

“Our Baker Street Irregulars,” Mannie said with a laugh. “No, no. You misunderstand them. Those kids and old folks who helped us track you in weren’t snitching for the black shirts. Well, not unless we wanted them to,” Mannie said, making a face.

“No, they were our snitches
tailing
the black shirts. It got to where one of them could hardly move without us knowing where they were going and what they were up to.”

Mannie laid a commlink on the table. “We manufacture these here in Sevastopol. They’ve got extra bandwidth just so we can send and track the black shirts. We had them on a tight leash before the Peterwalds ever decided to hang them by their collars.”

Kris nodded slowly at the admissions. “Vicky told me that you were in touch with the black market and able to do a deal with them to keep the city going when the, ah, black shirts beat it out of town. It sounds like there was a lot more to Sevastopol’s underground than just smugglers bringing in a bit of mall glitter.”

Mannie grinned. “St. Petersburg was where the heavy industry was. It was where most of the money was. So long as we paid our taxes and didn’t kill anyone, we were left on our own. That city charter I mentioned. All we want to do is make it official and get something on paper with a Peterwald’s signature. Really, nothing more.”

“You realize,” Abby said, “you’re running the serious risk of being noticed. Why not just keep things the way they are? They keep on looking the other way, and you keep on doing what you want?”

“Because things are changing, and who says they’ll ever be the same again,” Mannie said. “Look at it from my perspective. Things could go back to the way they were. Things could get a whole lot worse.” He held up both hands. “Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but it could. Whether Peterwald keeps on top of the dog pile or doesn’t, we could wind up with some two-bit tin god of a warlord keeping one finger in everyone’s soup and the other in everyone’s eye. I’d like to offer Miss Victoria another option, one I’m not sure they ever thought of. Let the locals look after themselves. We won’t do anything to bother her and her old man at the planetary or Alliance level. They don’t appoint anyone to muck around in our life.”

“And my place in this?” Kris said.

“Whether you regret it or not, you saved Henry’s neck once. You do seem to be some kind of friend to Miss Victoria. You could put in a good word for my side, and it might be listened to. Your signature on the document might make it harder to disappear it. You game?” Mannie said, raising two expressive eyebrows.

“It’s worth a try, but we still haven’t talked about what brought me down here. Let me call Vicky, then we have to talk.”

“It’s a deal,” Mannie said.

“Nelly, get me Vicky.”

“Kris, she’s in the Forward Lounge, so this call should be safe on that side. There are a whole lot of electronic devices on this end.”

“Could we jam them?” Kris asked.

Mannie looked around the diner. “It would piss off a lot of folks who are just going about their morning business. And probably lose me a couple of votes, too. Do you really think it’s necessary?”

“My dear old dad taught me never to do something that cost a hardworking politician any votes. Especially him. Now Jack here, my security boss, is having a hissy fit, but if he doesn’t have at least one a day, he gets hemorrhoids.”

Jack set a new record for scowl . . . but said nothing.

“Hi, Kris, how’s it going?” said Vicky in a way-too-chipper tone of voice.

“Not nearly as well as I’d been hoping it would,” Kris answered.

“But things
always
go so well for you,” Vicky said, failing totally to make her voice sound believable.

“You keep this up, and you better be careful of what I wish for,” Kris said. “How about you coming down here and seeing what my day is like?”

“Is there a real problem? Can’t you find Maggie?” Vicky sounded seriously concerned now.

“Maggie is sitting across the table from me. She’s fine and heading up to the station just as fast as I can take her.”

“Oh, that’s good,” had serious relief in it. “So what seems to be the problem?”

Kris waved at Nelly at her neck, then waved at Mannie to take over from here.

He gave Kris a three-finger wave off.
Please, you do this for me
was all over his face.

Kris sighed and went on. “I’m talking to Mannie Artamus, one of the nicest guys you’ve never met. You remember him, the city manager of Sevastopol?”

“I’ve heard of him,” was rather hard-bitten.

“He would really like to talk to you,” Kris said.

“Is he holding you hostage?” Vicky snapped. “You and Maggie?”

“No,” Mannie said, half-out of his seat. “Nobody is holding anyone hostage. No hostages here,” he insisted, as Kris waved him back to his chair.

“Vicky, you know me,” Kris cut in. “Nobody takes me hostage. God help any kidnapper who falls into my hands. No, I’m having coffee and waiting for a delicious slice of pie. You understand. I’m talking with a man who needs something from me and who I need something from myself. Force is not an issue on this table.”

Jack didn’t look all that assured at Kris’s words, but he said nothing.

“What’s Mr. Artamus want?” Vicky said guardedly.

“Your and my signatures on a city charter.”

“What’s a city charter?” Vicky asked.

That question told Kris all she needed to know about life in the Greenfeld Alliance. “Something cities used to have a couple of hundred years ago,” Kris said, waving Mannie to silence. “It outlined their duties and responsibilities to the king and his duties toward them.”

“My dad is not a king,” Vicky snapped. “Though, if the rumors coming out of the Palace are right, there are a couple of factions trying to talk him into naming himself emperor.” From the tone of her voice, Kris couldn’t tell how much that made Vicky’s bunny jump . . . if any.

“What would that make you, a grand duchess?”

“What it would do is give me a headache. How’s the princess gig going for you?”

“Some days better than others. Listen, Vicky, I’ve been talking to this fellow, Mannie. He recognizes that things are changing. All he wants is to provide a minimum level of protection for the people he works for. They absolutely will stay out of your business. They will pay their taxes and live their lives. If this charter works for them, maybe a lot of other large cities will be offering to do the same thing. It’s not a bad place to start rebuilding the Greenfeld Alliance.”

“I’ll have to think about that. He wants me to come down. How big an honor guard should I bring?”

“A whole lot less than an invasion force,” Kris suggested.

“Your Jack willing to vouch for my safety?”

“Sorry. No can do,” Jack said, leaning forward in his chair to make sure his voice carried. “Keeping one obstreperous and cantankerous princess safe is about as far as I can stretch.”

“I’ll talk to Admiral Krätz about setting up a detail. I take it would be in bad taste for me to send a shuttle down right now for just Maggie.”

“Yes,” Doc Maggie said, “I really think I should stay here and do anything I can to help things come out well for everyone here. They’ve been nice to a woman who had nothing but her own two hands when she first came among them.”