“Oh, now you’ve got tar on your formal duds. What are you going to tell your mom?”
“That things like that happen if she’s ever to get those grandkids she keeps talking about. You two take care. Steve, don’t you wrap your father’s best rig around a tree or anything.”
“Tough job that fellow has,” Jack said as they left.
“About as tough as yours, I imagine.”
“He keeps track of a city. All I have to handle is you.”
Kris shrugged. “As I said. About even.”
The ride up the station was a problem. The passengers sniffed the air around Kris. One pointed out, “After you toss a caber you’re supposed to change clothes and take a bath before mixing in proper company.” But the vote was twenty-three to twenty-two to let their princess share their ride. This really was Chance, where everyone knew everything. And someone had told Abby. She greeted Kris at the door of her quarters with a scowl.
“Do I space that dress with you in it?”
To help Abby decide, Kris started unzipping out of it. Jack had decided that Kris’s safety tonight just might require him to unfasten the top hook and work the zipper down to where Kris could reach it. “What I do to keep you alive.”
Out of the dress, Kris handed it to Abby. “I guess you might as well space it.”
Abby made a grab for Kris’s hand. “And look at these. You broke two, no three, nails and how are we ever going to get that tar out from under your fingernails.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy doing it and it will involve hurting me a whole bunch,” Kris said. She slipped into a shipsuit and ducked over to the Command Center. Penny was there with Steve.
“The chief get away?”
“Yep,” Penny said. “Beni went off with a couple of thirsty types from the Resolute to keep him company.”
“May keep him out of trouble. Anything happen up here?”
“Not a thing. All ships quiet as a church,” Penny said. The board showed Hank’s Incredible, as well as Fury, Dominant, Fearless, Surprise, Eager. Traditional names, but in this collection, Kris wondered if they were hinting at anything.
“Wonder which ships belong to which captains?” Kris said.
“We should have had a reply to my priority search request. Don’t know what’s taking them so long.”
“Abby didn’t space you?” Steve grinned.
“I think I may be escaping a well-deserved fate.”
“Throwing the caber in a silk party dress,” Penny said.
“My skirt wasn’t any longer than the kilt on old Douglas.”
That didn’t stop the heads from wagging. But it did let Kris get a good eight hours’ sleep.
13
“YOU know they caught you on camera last night” was the first thing Kris heard in the Command Center next morning.
“I hope they got my right side. The left usually breaks the camera,” Kris drawled.
Chief Ramirez headed the watch this morning. She nodded toward a monitor that was carrying an early news show. Yep, there she was, raising the caber over her head, the top of her strapless gown seeming to offer a most embarrassing shot any second now. Kris held her breath as the gown failed to keep its promise. The news didn’t cut away until the crowd cheered as she did her curtsey. “And later, she did toss the caber,” the anchorwoman said. “That’s not your normal princess, but then she’s a Longknife, and this is Chance. Good going gal.”
“That how most people are taking it?” Kris asked, pouring coffee and waiting to see if PR damage control must precede chow.
“Yep,” the old chief said. “I’m headed for breakfast at the waffle shop. Nothing’s happening here. You want to come along?”
“Things that quiet?”
The chief’s grin actually sparkled. “The fun was earlier. They docked their own liberty boats, didn’t go through the shuttle bay, so we didn’t get to see the wreckage. Can’t tell you how glad I am of that. Gassy let us watch the dirtside half of the disaster. Thank God smellies never caught on.”
They arrived as the waffle shop opened. Kris entered to applause and did a redux of her curtsey. Just as she ordered a bran muffin and juice, sailors started pouring up the stairs from the two piers she had a line of sight on and forming into ranks.
“We being invaded?” someone asked.
“I thought they did that yesterday,” another one said. “Can’t they come up with anything but reruns today?”
NELLY, ARE THOSE SAILORS ARMED?
NO WEAPONS IN VIEW. Which didn’t really answer the question.
Kris and the chief excused themselves from their waiter and stepped outside, then slowlike, moseyed upstation for a better look. “Nelly, anything change?”
“Still no weapons visible.”
“What’s on their feet?” Chief Ramirez asked.
“Athletic shoes,” Nelly reported.
“PT this early after last night,” the chief said with an evil grin. “Somebody up there is after my own heart, vicious to the core.” Someone barked an order and calisthenics commenced. Soon, sailors were falling out of ranks, some heaving their guts.
“Nelly,” the chief said, “have the duty watch see if they can isolate the air over the forward two docks. At least re-circulate that air. If they can’t, close the fire bay doors.”
“They are happy to report that they have achieved the isolation of that air section. It may take them awhile to get the odor out the air, but it will stay up there.”
Chief Ramirez turned to Kris. “Well, if that nice computer of yours can keep a look on those wayward boys, why don’t you and I enjoy our breakfast. I’d keep it light. We may end up down that way before too long.”
Kris and the chief had finished their meal before Nelly broke in. “They are now ordering those who vomited to run laps around the station. Oh, and everyone else as well.”
“I better go talk to them, see if we can limit them to the forward half of the station,” Kris said, paying their check.
The chief dismissed herself to the Command Center when Kris started to jog forward. Jack connected with Kris as she passed the midship row of shops and fell in step beside her.
“You going into that lion’s mouth?”
“Goes with the job,” Kris said. She spotted a gunny jogging along beside ranks of Greenfeld’s finest. She angled toward him. Once in step alongside, she asked, “Who’s in charge, Gunny?”
He took her in, without missing a step. “I am, sir,” he said in that bull voice gunnies are born with. “Each senior NCO is authorized to exercise his men independently, Lieutenant.”
Kris would have to remember not to look over her shoulder every time a Greenfeld NCO “sir-ed” her. There being no women officers in their forces, “ma’am” was a nonstarter.
“Please halt your men, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir. Platoon, Forward March,” he said, which took them out of double-time. “Platoon, Halt. Platoon, Left Face.”
Kris conformed to the rapid-fired commands. Doing a right face for the last one brought her face-to-face with “Gunnery Sergeant Wittmann at your service, sir.” Being uncovered and in PT dress, he did not salute Kris. This guy was on the ball. Well, let’s see how this goes.
“Sergeant, I’m glad to see you up early this morning and enjoying the services of my station,” Kris said. “I require a meeting with all the senior NCOs conducting these exercises. Would you please dispatch messengers to them, give them my compliments, and inform them that the Commander, Naval District 41, requires their presence here, on the double.”
The sergeant had not been briefed on this possibility, but taking time to blink only twice, he shot out orders dispatching eleven of his troopers. As the runners took off in all directions, Kris did an informal about-face and ambled off a bit, Jack at her side.
“I can’t watch, Jack, but tell me what’s happening.”
Jack took an extra step so that it looked like he was talking with Kris, his eyes downcast, but his report
was wide ranging. “The runners are making fast time of it. Okay, there’s one that caught up with a whole lot of whites, I’d say a boatload of Navy. The chief, or whoever’s doing the run, has got someone out of ranks to keep them running and is walking this way. A gunny is joining him. They’re exchanging words. Another putative chief is trotting over to them.”
“So we’re going to be facing a united front,” Kris said.
“That would be my bet.” The two of them let a few more minutes go by, then Kris turned. Oh, this bunch was good. The senior chief in charge, or maybe the flagship’s chief, had the other five chiefs in a single line and they were double-timing her way. Directly behind them came four Marine sergeants, with their own honcho calling cadence. Around Deck 1, heads in formation runs turned. Kris couldn’t fault the interest. What able seaman wouldn’t want to see their leading chiefs jogging in ranks like them. But senior Petty officers with no sense of humor shouted them back and Kris concentrated on her own issues.
The super leading chief dropped his small Navy file into march cadence and cut a perfect corner to put them directly in front of Kris. The Marines followed right in step. Then both chief and sergeant halted, the Navy to Kris’s right, the Marines to her left. Sergeant Wittmann, cutting his corners perfectly, marched into the last place in the Marine’s line.
“Leading Senior Chief Meindl reporting as requested, sir.”
“Gunnery Sergeant Rothenburg reporting as requested, sir.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Kris said. “This is my first opportunity to welcome you to my station. I am Lieutenant Kris Longknife, Commander, Naval District 41.” Kris paused to let them get used to the idea that the commander of this Naval district was a lieutenant . . . and a woman. Oh, and a Longknife. From the looks on their faces, they’d been told this already, but it was still uncomfortable for them to come face-to-face with something that, by all that they’d been taught to hold military and holy, could not be.
“I am glad to see you using my facilities to keep your crew fit,” Kris said. “That a fit sailor is a better sailor is something we can all agree on.” She paused. In front of her, bland faces began to hint with smiles at the thought of a Longknife actually quoting their own regulations back to them.
“No one talked to me about your morning routine, though. I’d like you to confine your PT, as well as any drill and ceremonies to the forward bays of the station. No further aft than that line of service facilities,” Kris said, pointing to where the Dragon Café was still boarded up.
“May I ask why, sir?” said the leading senior chief.
“That’s a reasonable question,” she said, though Kris doubted a Greenfeld chief would normally risk asking it of one of their officers. Still, this fellow would be asked to answer questions when he returned to his ship. Probably not easy ones.
“Chief, this is not a large station, and I’m not funded with a lot of housekeeping personnel.” I’m not funded with many personnel at all, Kris did not add. “As you may have noticed, some of your sailors are a bit the worse for wear from last night and they’ve left a mess around the deck.” Kris sniffed the air. The senior leading chief scowled. “I don’t know how quickly I’ll be able to get this area policed up and shipshape. I’d prefer to limit the problem to the forward bay. Unless your commodore wants to discuss the matter further, I’m so ordering.”
“We will remain forward of those facilities,” he said. “Unless we receive different orders from our own officers, sir. And our sailors will police up their own, ah, leavings.” Then he paused and licked his lips before going on softly.
“Ma’am, is there any chance that those facilities might get opened up? We chiefs noticed a movie house, and gaming space as well as several eateries on the station plan we were issued, but a check last evening showed them all closed. Those not on shore leave only have what we’ve had aboard ship for the last month. It’s wearing a tad thin.”
Kris eyed the NCOs in ranks behind him. They were still board-straight Navy and Marines, but Kris could taste the expectation in the air. “Those are all private establishments, Chief, but I’ll see what I can do about talking someone into opening them. Although the discipline of your men on shore leave last night did nothing to encourage the locals that their property and life are safe around your men, Chief.”
The chief was back to ramrod straight and a face devoid of expression. Kris paused for a moment, but there was no further reaction. “Thank you gentlemen for your attention. Leading Senior Chief, dismiss your crew to their duties.”
Kris turned her back as the chief and sergeant began barking orders. “That went well, I think,” she told Jack.
“What was that last about?”
“I think the request for some open facilities up here was an honest chief looking after his men’s needs.”
“And his reaction about the shore party?”
Kris walked along for a while. “What would you do if you’d been ordered to let your men run wild and someone from the other side pointed out how unprofessional it was.”
“I’d imitate a pole, just like those poor sods did.”
Kris spent the morning with Tony Chang and the contacts he put her in touch with. Tony himself ordered enough food and drinks to get three of the restaurants open for lunch. “I’m only hiring guys to work those places.” Kris didn’t argue.
Several movie chains agreed to rearrange their schedules and get enough movies up to High Chance’s theater that they could start playing later that day. The Game Emporium was tougher. “Most of the game stations are still up there, that’s no problem. They were pretty old and lame. It’s finding software to load on them. They are just so out of date.”
“We need something and we need it by close of business today,” Kris said. “The sailors that don’t get shore leave need some entertainment.”
“I’ll have a couple of kids up there to load the software and take their nickels.”
“You are going to keep the price reasonable, aren’t you?”
“I was a kid once, a long way from home. We won’t rook them, Commander.”
After lunch, Kris had to submit to an oil-of-turpentine manicure from Abby, who dug out a small fortune in tar from under Kris’s nails and took an inch off her fingers. “If you’re going out tonight, I’m going to have to glue three nails on you.”
“I haven’t heard what they’re laying on for tonight.”
“Well, you find out, young woman, cause your Mama Abby ain’t gonna turn you into no princess with a snap of her fingers. Not with you in the mess you’re in today.”
“Yes, Mama,” Kris said as she escaped from her quarters.
“You know you’re henpecked,” Jack said as she ran into him.
“My mother ignored me for most of my life. Why is Abby making up for it with interest?”
“Why does Abby do anything?” Jack said. “I did that monitoring you asked for while Hank’s ships were coming in. No Chance messages out that didn’t have a business reason for going out. I did, however, go over the communication logs from the jump point buffers. Nelly and I recovered a message sent just after we jumped into the system, heavily encrypted, and with, as it turned out, a false sender identified.”
“Bad sender address? Don’t those usually bounce?”
“This was a false sender with a valid sending address. You know many day cares that send priority interstellar messages?”
“No. Has Nelly cracked the code?”
“Nope,” Jack said. “And she doesn’t expect to. Very complex code that seems to change about every other line. Real good.”
“And you think Abby sent it?”
“I don’t know who sent it, but it’s interesting that it went out of here right after the St. Pete jumped in.”
“Anything like it since our last trip?”
“No. Nothing.”
Kris considered that as she took the elevator down to the shops. “Could have been someone on the Pete messaging ahead. Since our main c
oncern seems not to be involved, let’s sit on it.” Kris ran her thumb softly over her aching fingers. “Abby may be a pain every chance she gets, but she does pull things out of those steamer trunks when we need them. Haven’t you enjoyed the last couple of weeks when she didn’t have to.”
“Best vacation I’ve had in years,” Jack said.
Three restaurants were open, each just happened to be even with the piers in use by the ships. Italian, German, and Chinese were officially offered, but Tony said they’d cook up just about anything. The movie theater was open. Its offerings seemed dated to a girl from Wardhaven, but there were plenty of choices for the various screens that ranged from full auditorium to small home-movie suites no bigger than the one at Nuu House.
The Game Express had all its lights flashing.
“I am so glad to run into you, Lieutenant,” someone said from behind Kris. She turned . . . and snapped a salute.
“Good to see you again, too, Captain Slovo,” Kris said.
He returned her and Jack’s honors. “May I walk with you awhile?” he asked.
“It would be my pleasure. Should I ask my security chief to find business elsewhere?”
Captain Slovo glanced at Jack. “I assure you your princess and commander is as safe with me as she is anywhere else.”
“That bad,” Jack said, but he saluted and detached himself.
“A good man,” Captain Slovo said.
“You’ve gotten my briefing file.”
“Him, no, just my own assessment. And yes, we did get your file. Amazingly thin. Leaves a lot to wonder about.”
“You must have gotten the digest version,” Kris said.
“Maybe, but I still find myself wondering about finding you here so unexpectedly.”
“Luck of the draw,” Kris chose to answer. “They were looking for a place to put me, and this opened up. It works the same in your Navy, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes, yes. But when last we heard, this station was unoccupied. So you can imagine my surprise when I find my ship taking active sensor sweeps from a light cruiser. We had heard that hulks were being distributed around Longknife space, mere scarecrows to make the locals feel safer. Yet I find a cruiser with its sensors up, reactors going. Full commission?”
Kris Longknife: Resolute Page 24