Kris Longknife: Resolute

by Mike Shepherd

  “Hank gets up to this berm. Nice, but not really that good a defensive line. Besides, where do we get him talking to us. No, let him in all the way to the jail’s parking lot.”

  Ron whistled. “That close?”

  “But that puts him in a whole lot of fire lanes,” Jack said, walking his fingers from the buildings, the tower, the jail. “No reason we couldn’t have fire coming from the row of shops behind him. If he does walk right up, he’s in one solid kill zone.”

  “Why would he do that?” Ron asked.

  “If you don’t get in his way, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to keep marching.” Kris’s smile was all teeth.

  Gassy leaned over Kris’s shoulder. “So we don’t cause him any trouble until he’s right where we want him.”

  “You got it. You’ll want to send out some men and women, armed, but with orders to let Hank’s men march in. If kids wander out in the street, these folks should get them to safety. If anything looks to get in the way, get it gone.”

  “You’re assuming he doesn’t see our preparation from orbit and come in fighting?” Ernie said.

  “Have you been too obvious?” Kris asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Ron said slowly.

  “What are we likely to face?” Kris asked. “How many of his crew are presently guests in your jail?”

  “Four hundred and ninety-six,” Gassy said.

  Kris whistled. “A third. That must have been some party.” Ron scowled. “We’ve got three Beergartens wrecked, one burned, along with several houses and our university’s admin building. And we never did get a positive ID on the rapists.”

  “We’ll be a long time forgetting last night,” Gassy said.

  “Let’s hope you’re not trying to forget this afternoon as well,” Kris said. They bent over the map again and divided up the heavy weapons they had among the four sides of the square in front of the jail. “Who gets the tower?” Ernie asked.

  “I’d love to have firepower on the first couple of levels of that tower,” Kris said. “Some very accurate snipers higher up, but the tower is likely to be the first place they take down.”

  “I’ll put some of my people up there,” Ernie said. “That will be my post.”

  Kris glanced at the short fellow. Just because he didn’t like Longknifes didn’t mean he was a coward. Come to think of it, it took guts to go up against her family.

  Five minutes later they were done. The four left to organize their force. Jack stayed to shake his head. “What do we do if Hank doesn’t follow our plan. Can we turn this bunch around?”

  “Not a chance,” Kris said. “It takes real troops to maneuver under fire. Real leaders. If Hank isn’t kind enough to follow our Plan A, we’re toast. Plan B is going to be bloody.”

  “You’re betting everything on your knowing how Hank will act,” Ron said. “How well do you know this ex-boyfriend.”

  “He’s no ex-boyfriend of mine,” Kris snapped. “I spent the longest week of my life cooped up with him on his yacht trying to get him to at least consider that his dad wasn’t a god, wasn’t perfect, and all he’d heard about my family might not be correct.”

  “Did it take?” Ron asked, but his phone rang. He listened for a moment, then said, “I’ll be as careful as I can, Mom,” and hung up. “Twenty launches are headed down.”

  “Your mom say anything about the light assault craft?”

  “Aren’t those hard to spot on radar?” Ron said.

  “You’ve been reading up.”

  “Started as soon as Hank jumped in system.”

  “Yeah, they’re stealthy. I’d like to know if he’s bringing the Marines or dropping them all over the place.” Kris paused for a second, then her face lit up in a smile. “And, if Hank has really left the ships empty, now might be a great time for Steve to waltz in and take them.”

  “And who was, just a second ago, telling my best friends that we don’t want to start this shoot-out,” Ron growled.

  “Oops, sometimes I forget myself.”

  “Only sometimes?” Jack said.

  “Do we have any cameras along the highway?” Kris asked.

  “Some traffic monitors,” Ron said.

  “Have someone watch and tell me if they see Marines forming up,” Kris said. “Just now, I have another part of my puzzle to put in place for Hank.”

  “And I’ll be checking fire lanes,” Jack said. “Making sure these folks know to keep their rears covered just in case Hank does indeed have enough competent Marines to maneuver around even as he marches the swabbies up the center.”

  16

  “What are you doing?” Ron asked as they walked to the jail.

  “Do you have a list of who’s locked up here?” They passed from bright sunlight to shadow; open air to the stink of vomit and sweat.

  “Ari should.” Ron turned into an office off the foyer.

  “Only a partial list. Who you want?” a blond fellow said.

  “A Chief Meindl, I believe.”

  “I think I have all the chiefs listed. Yeah, Meindl, third floor, cell 3A7, Boss. You want to have him hauled down here?”

  “No,” Kris said. “I’d rather go up for him.”

  “Suit yourself, Spade, Rori. We’re releasing a Chief Meindl from 3A7. You want to take the mayor up there and see that only one of them gets out and the rest don’t cause much trouble.”

  Two men with corporal strips on their green uniforms came out of chairs in the break room across the way and led Kris up two flights of stairs to a cell on the top floor. Iron bars closed off the front, concrete formed its walls. Sized for two prisoners, today, six or eight sat on the lower bed, lay on the floor, stood at the bars. The eyes that watched Kris looked feral and angry. This place only needed an excuse to explode.

  “Hope those bars are set in there solid,” Ron said.

  “After last night, I’m real sure they are,” Rori told his mayor. They paused in front of a cell with 3A7 over its door.

  “Chief Meindl, are you in there?” Kris asked.

  “Yo,” came defiantly from the top bunk where one man lay.

  “Prisoner, front and center,” Rori called. “Someone’s here to see you.” The chief rolled lithely from the top bunk to land in the small space not occupied by one of his juniors. His glower for the guards ended with a sharp intake of breath as he spotted Kris. He came to attention. “Sir.”

  “I would like to have this man released to me,” Kris said.

  “He’s all yours,” the guard answered.

  The chief reached back onto the bunk for his tie, jacket, and hat. Kris got her first look at his uniform. His hash marks and crow were gold; the fruit salad on his chest showed three good conducts to support that. He also sported the long cruise ribbon with four stars; hopefully earned on the same cruise as Slovo. It would be helpful if they knew each other. His sharpshooter badge also had four white lines on it. Maybe Jack was overly optimistic about the swabbies being out of their element in a land bound shoot-out. Now was not the time to worry about that.

  The chief returned himself to proper dress and marched smartly to the door. Rori eyed the other prisoners, and several suddenly felt the urge to press themselves up against the back wall, well clear of the opening door. The chief squared his corners as he presented himself, hat under his left arm. “Senior Chief Meindl reporting as requested, sir.”

  “Please walk with me, Chief.”

  “As you wish, sir,” came with full formality. But then, he was in the hands of his enemy and under the eyes of his sailors.

  Kris said nothing as they retraced their steps. Chief Meindl spotted a full-length mirror and took a moment to correct the lay of his collar and hang of his coat. He donned his cover, as they exited the jail. He breathed easier in the sunlight. Then he turned to Kris, ignoring Ron. “Do you just want me to walk with you, or do you want to tell me something, sir.”

  Kris took a few more steps toward the Fire Training Center, then called. “Ernie, things
going fine with those machine guns?” The tower was an obvious target. When the shooting started the race would be on to do as much slaughter as possible before Hank’s crew brought it down.

  The short man stood in a fourth floor window and waved. “It’s in, and I got the snipers in place. Bring’em on.”

  “Oh, I wish he hadn’t said that,” Ron muttered.

  Kris said nothing, just eyed the chief, as he swept his gaze slowly over the edge of the parking lot. His nostrils flared and his eyes took on a squint that had nothing to do with the sun.

  “Follow me,” Kris said, and turned for the row of businesses that would be behind Hank. If the fire from the Municipal Center grew too heavy, this would be their obvious rallying point. Kris caught one glance from Ron. “Are you crazy?” pretty much summed it up. But he didn’t say a word. Good man.

  “It’s good to see you,” Wee Willy said from the shaded walkway that covered the entire front of the shops. Kris spotted short jerks of the chief ’s head as he took in an automatic weapon sandbagged behind a window; a woman with a rocket launcher in a door. Men and women stacked more sandbags behind more windows.

  “Step carefully,” Kris said to the chief as they entered a shop. “That’s a claymore.”

  “Kris, I’ve got this area pretty much done. I’m gonna start working on . . .”

  “As you were, Lieutenant,” Kris said to cut Jack off. “I’ve got Chief Meindl with me, and while I want him to know something about what his commodore faces, I do want a few surprises.”

  Jack turned from the map he’d been studying, came to attention, and returned the chief ’s salute. “I wish I could say it was good to see you again, Chief.”

  “I wish I could say the same, sir.”

  “So Princess Kristine is letting you in on the slaughter pen we’re setting up for the green kid you’ve got running your show.”

  “It appears so, sir,” the chief said carefully.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do and not much time to do them in,” Jack said, turning his back on them.

  “Mr. Mayor, would you take the chief outside a ways.”

  “No problem, Commander,” Ron said.

  They watched while the mayor and chief headed back out. “Kris, are you crazy?”

  “No more than usual. It doesn’t do us a lot of good to win the battle we don’t want to fight.”

  “But we don’t want to lose it if we have to fight,”

  “Agreed.”

  “Okay, I’m headed for the buildings close to the berm. See that they’re covered if Hank sends his Marines out as flankers.”

  “That could put us in contact sooner than I want.”

  “Not if I stay with this screen and see that it collapses ahead of the flankers. But doesn’t collapse past about two rows of shops back. We’ve got to cover Wee Willy’s back.

  “I kind of wanted you with me,” Kris said.

  “And that is exactly where I want to be. You know anyone in this lash-up that we can trust to give ground, but not too fast?”

  “Be careful Jack.”

  He snorted at the sentiment. “You do the same.” There was a series of sonic booms outside; the shop seemed to take on a permanent tremble as the booms kept coming. “Lots of launches incoming. I better get a move on. Where you headed?”

  “I’m going to take the chief up the tower to watch the opening moves, then down to the jail. You?”

  “The scouts have set up a command post of sorts just this side of the berm. They’ve got land line in case things go flaky. I’ll stay there for a while. I understand there’s a rain sewer under this place that you can move people through. So don’t be surprised if I get back to you.”

  “I’ll look for you. Now I got to get moving. Good luck.”

  “Good luck yourself, Kris. You usually make your own.”

  Kris rejoined Ron and the chief; they were eyeing the sky. Contrails merged as more and more launches entered the lower atmosphere. “Ron, you might want to go to your Command Center. I’m going up that tower to watch it live. Chief, you’re with me unless you think it would be safer in your cell.”

  “I’ve had enough of that stinking jail. No thank you.”

  Kris and the chief climbed up the tower, past a machine gun and two M-6-armed gunners, a rocket launcher, and several sniper teams. “Will you shoot the officers?” Meindl asked.

  “Not if they don’t shoot at us,” Kris answered.

  Kris joined Ernie at the top floor of the tower. They had one spectacular view of Last Chance. The sky above them was a liquid blue that seemed to go on forever. Only the contrails of the approaching launches marred it. Ernie had binoculars and called down to a sniper team to loan their glasses to Kris.

  She surveyed the highway she’d picked for Hank’s landing. Empty, it shimmered in the noon heat. So did the line march into town. Inside the berm, people flitted from one shop row to another. Not a single car or truck was parked anywhere to provide temporary cover to someone caught on the street.

  “He’d have to be crazy to march in here,” Kris muttered to herself. The chief kept his opinion to himself.

  “You holding to name, rank, and serial number?” Kris asked.

  “Actually, all they asked me for was my name. They are civilians,” he said, scorn for that status flicking his words.

  “We’ll see who is the dumb one soon enough,” Kris said.

  “You’re going to lose. These situations always go our way. Civilians can’t stand up to Greenfeld bayonets.” He looked at Ernie. “You don’t have the stomach for more than one volley from my sailors. Even this Longknife brat will not make a difference.”

  “You learned your catechism well,” Kris said. “And you may be right, not even a Longknife brat may turn this around. But you sure that Greenfeld sailors can survive the leadership of a Peterwald brat?”

  Chief Meindl looked away. He was too honorable of a man to lie to Kris. Yes, he could spiel the official line at her, but make up a lie of his own? No, not this sailor.

  “Well, they’re landing where you said they would, Your Highness,” Ernie said, singing a slightly different tune now.

  Kris watched through her borrowed glasses. The landers had their own power because the lead one taxied up and angled to a stop at the overpass that led to the Southern Industrial Park. The next taxied to a stop, nose to the far side of the road, leaving more room. From the first lander, a full color guard marched forth, unfurling their flags as soon as they were on solid ground. Behind them came . . .

  “Damn, they brought a marching band,” Ernie marveled.

  “They are armed,” Chief Meindl growled. “You gave me a few obvious freebies. I can give you one or two.”

  Launch after launch came in, landed, rolled to a stop, then rolled ahead to angle itself right or left. And as soon as the doors opened, shouting sailors ran to form up on the right shoulder. Kris raised the power on her glasses. Yep, there were mortar rolling behind pairs of sailors, extra ammo wheeled along by the next pair. This was a well-practiced ritual.

  “The commodore will be in the last lander,” Meindl said.

  The twentieth launch barely cleared the last overpass, but Hank was down safely and the pilot was breaking hard. The final lander didn’t have much spare road to break on, but it came to a halt well clear of the nineteenth. Troops raced to formed ranks outside it. Hank, in blues on a day this hot, strode from the lander last. He received and returned salutes and then . . .

  “My God,” Kris muttered. “He’s going to review his entire force. That’s got to be over a half mile to the exit.”

  “More like a whole mile,” Ernie said. “Then he’s got close to a four mile walk in here.” The man looked at his watch. “Unless he’s hired busses, we have a long wait ahead.”

  Kris eyed Chief Meindl.

  “They will march,” the chief said, not a shred of doubt in his words. “They are men of Greenfeld. ‘Marching is what puts strength in their backs an
d power in their fists.’”

  “And those fists put a couple of my friends in the hospital last night,” Ernie snapped.

  The chief examined his skinned knuckles. “If your people had not so enthusiastically returned blow for blow with my people, you might not have so many of my people in your hoosegow.”

  “Excuse me for being glad we’ve got them here rather than out there,” Kris said.

  The chief grunted and muttered something under his breath.

  Ernie brought his comm unit up to his mouth. “Folks, we’ve got an hour or two to nap, get some chow, or so until our visitors . . .” He frowned at his unit, shook it. Then scowled.

  “Nelly,” Kris said.

  “Halfway through his signal, a jammer cut in, Kris. The local net is off-line, or at least off the air.”

  “That’s not supposed to be possible,” Ernie growled. Beside him, the chief smiled happily for the first time.

  “Okay, so we go with Plan B,” Ernie snapped. “Gale, you got an extension for that land line you lugged up here.”

  “I told you you’d need it, Ernie.”

  “And I’ll pay my debt tonight, woman of my life.”

  A tall, slender woman backed up the stairs, unwinding cord from the reel in her hand, and gave Ernie a quick kiss and a phone. “Now what will I have to talk on?”

  “You may actually survive a few hours in peace and quiet.”

  “Oh, you are so wasted when we get home, little man.” They exchanged blown kisses as Ernie punched buttons. “Tower here. They are down on the road. They have no transport and they’ve got a two-hour walk ahead of them.” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, she’s here,” he said and gave Kris the phone.

  “Don’t you think you ought to come down?” Ron asked.

  “He won’t touch the tower when he’s this far out,” Kris told the mayor. “That would give away his intent and assure he had a shoot-out on his hands. No, Ron, I’m as safe as you are. Can you connect me with Jack?”

  “I don’t know how he stands you doing what you do.”

  “It’s what I do, Ron. It’s what a Longknife does.”

  “You’re crazy. Jack, here’s that crazy woman of yours.”