Kris Longknife Stalwart

by Mike Shepherd

  Kris and her key staff planned the takedown assault. Then they looked at it from a different perspective, then looked at it again. At that point, Jack was detailed to be the Red Team and figure out how he would screw up the lightning assault on the Battleship of State.

  Time flew swiftly.

  Kris and Jack slipped away for a few hours’ nap. It quickly slipped into stress relief, and they napped happily in each other's arms. Kris sometimes wondered when she and Jack would become an old married couple. So far, they'd avoided that fate.

  She definitely wanted to continue in this wonderful state as long as she could.

  At midnight they were awoken to dress for the night's mission. Kris intended to be on the team that took down Sam, the trouble-making future Planetary Overlord. The two of them needed to have a nice, long talk.

  44

  Grand Admiral Kris Longknife, admiral commanding the Imperial Combined Fleet crossed the brow of the Battleship of State Ever Victorious Sunrise. The two guards were asleep on their feet as she and her strike force arrived. The thermos of drugged tea, brought up by one of the inserted "mess stewards," likely accounted for that.

  Kris would have to remember how vulnerable a ship was once its mess crew had been suborned.

  Her team moved swiftly and silently through the sleeping passageways of the palatial Battleship of State. The cooks that would prepare breakfast for the crew would not rise for another hour. However, the cooks that her troops had slipped aboard this extravagant barge were up.

  They guided the different squads of the strike team to their target. They'd kept the clans that Kris was interested in under close observation. Now, except for an occasional sailor or insomniac, the squads moved quickly and unobserved into their assigned places.

  Each squad had a pair of Human US Marines on point and rear, with M-4s loaded with sleepy darts. Innocent Iteeche who stumbled into the strike squads were put to sleep and left in storage closets.

  So it was that two hours after midnight, Kris's strike team stood outside the door of the suite of rooms reserved for the highest clan lord on board. This trip, it held a particularly disagreeable lord from a middling clan who had won the lottery to be Planetary Overlord for the first planet Kris captured.

  Time and time again, Sam the Iteeche had insisted that the Balan system's decision to surrender did not make it any different from one captured after a long battle. He wanted to govern the planet for fun and profit. He dreamed of spoils that would enrich his clan for hundreds of years to come.

  Kris, however, wanted the existing Planetary Overlord left in charge to continue the improvements in infrastructure that he was investing in.

  There were three different people with three different demands, and only one planet to share among them. Someone was in for disappointment.

  That someone was likely sleeping comfortably on the other side of that door.

  The Human Marine engineer stepped back from running a scan on the doorsill. He didn't look happy. Kris slipped up to the front to eavesdrop on the discussion. Jack followed hot on her footsteps.

  She refused to glance back his way. No doubt he was wearing one of his worried looks. He'd just have to worry.

  "They've got three different locks on this door and five sets of hinges on the other side," the combat engineer said. "It's going to take a lot of explosives to open this can of worms."

  While the Iteeche in nominal command of this team considered this problem, Kris stepped into it.

  "Have you considered taking a laser to the wall and just cutting the locks out?"

  The two of them turned to her. The Human raised an inquisitive eyebrow. The Iteeche let all four of his eyes grow wide.

  "In the last few years," Kris said, "I've broken into a lot of places I wasn't wanted and out of a few places I was. Do you have the equipment?"

  In a moment, the Marine had pulled a small hand laser from the tool kit at her waist. She drilled a shallow test hole, then slowly worked it deeper. On the fourth try, she broke through the metal wall near the door.

  That established, she deftly cut around all three of the locks, peeled back some of the metal, then packed a very small amount of explosives around each bolt. A layer of bulletproof cloth closed up the wall, ready to trap the shock of the explosion inside and add to the force on the locks.

  NELLY, ARE ALL THE TEAMS IN PLACE?

  WE HAVE TWO TEAMS THAT ARE FACING THE SAME SERIES OF LOCKS. I PASSED ALONG THE SPECS ON HOW THIS COMBAT ENGINEER PEELED BACK THE WALL. THEY SHOULD BE READY IN A MINUTE. MAYBE LESS.

  STANDBY TO COORDINATE ALL THE EXPLOSIONS, NELLY.

  STANDING BY. ALL THE DOORS ARE RIGGED. I AM READY.

  GIVE THEM A COUNT OF THREE THEN BLOW ALL THE DOORS.

  "We go on three. One," Nelly whispered softly. Her voice came from every commlink in the passageway.

  "Two."

  On "Three," a low "whomp" came from the door.

  A Human Marine swung a door knocker to smash the door open, then quickly got out of the way as a small parade of Iteeche stormed into the conversation room of the suite. Occupying a good third of the room was a deep pool of water.

  Both pool and room were empty, as was the dining area of the suite. Groups of three or four Iteeche MP's moved purposefully around the pool and gathered at the doors into what was likely the bedrooms.

  The Human combat engineer was called to check those doors with his sensors. Only one was locked, and it was a lock easily defeated. An extra two Iteeche were assigned to that one.

  Kris crept up behind them. She very much wanted to discuss matters with this obnoxious and greedy Iteeche who was causing too much trouble for Kris's tastes.

  Once again, Nelly whispered a three count from every commlink in the room.

  On three, doors were silently opened and Iteeche, all seven to eight feet of them, tiptoed their three to four hundred-pound bodies into the room. The second Iteeche from the lead held a dental dam readily at hand.

  The first any of the sleepers knew that their world had changed was when that gag was jammed into their mouth, keeping them from doing anything that would cause Kris to miss talking to them.

  There was a lot of screaming and squawking as the lights came on.

  The screaming came from the three female Iteeche that were sharing the potential Planetary Overlord's bed. The squawking came from the one guy in the bed who now could not close his mouth or speak clearly.

  The female Iteeche were all hurried out of the room. There were a lot of splashes as they were joined in the pool by a lot of bedmates.

  Kris, however, was only interested in the male Iteeche. An Iteeche Marine corporal had jammed the dental dam between the guy's beak even as he still slept. It being made of Smart Metal, Nelly programmed it to expand.

  In the blink of an eye, Sam, the hopeful Planetary Overlord, had his beak spread wide open. The teeth inside his mouth were also held wide apart. No way was he crunching his teeth together and crushing a poison tooth.

  That might explain why he was squawking so much. That, or the way the Marines had trussed him up like a calf ready for branding.

  Then he caught sight of Kris standing well back from the struggle of strong Iteeche.

  He let out a primal scream as he tried to lurch out of the bed and struggled with the big Iteeche MPs to get to Kris. She scowled; he was not making a case for him being merely misunderstood. There was no sign of contrition that might earn him mercy.

  Kris turned and led the Iteeche out of the room. The demanding future Planetary Overlord followed, strung up on a pole carried by four strong Iteeche Marines.

  The pool was now full of unclothed women Iteeche. They whispered nervously among themselves. None showing any signs of grief as their recent bed mates were perp-walked past them and out the door. Kris would have really liked to pause and ask those women what they thought of their life and of their clan lordlings, however, she had little time.

  The long line at the gangplank was moving slowly. S
ome of the prisoners moved like sleepwalkers. Others were still struggling with their guards. Every few minutes, one of the lordlings would get so out of hand that he'd be hogtied and rolled aside. When a pole arrived, he was slung under it. Thus, many clan lords left the Battleship of State struggling and screaming.

  The Iteeche Way apparently didn't allow for sedating prisoners.

  As Kris waited her turn to go ashore, she watched the scene unfolding before her eyes. She had personal searing memories, of being relieved of her command and perp-walked off her own ship. She'd wrapped herself in dignity, since that was all she had left, and led her guards as if they were her honor guard.

  The charges were trumped up and political, but vindication was a long way off at that moment. As she studied the Iteeche around her, struggling with their guards and being forced into less and less dignified positions, she couldn't help but wonder. Was this a sign of their guilt?

  Kris would have to be careful about that thought. She had no idea if the Iteeche law required a prisoner to be considered innocent until proven guilty. It didn't matter. As a Human and emissary to the Iteeche Empire, Kris had to uphold her own standards. The case against these Iteeche would have to be made beyond a reasonable doubt to her before she would do anything to these Iteeche.

  She had to, if for no other reason than the agony the Iteeche Empire would lay on these lordlings if they considered them guilty. A Most Sincere and Very Complete Apology to the Emperor was a horrible way to die.

  Kris’s turn in line finally came. She crossed the gangplank; the Iteeche require no honors. A station cart was waiting for her. No sooner did she settle into it than it set off for the Princess Royal.

  From the outside, Kris's battlecruiser looked at Condition Able, Imperial Plush. However, looks were deceiving. The space normally reserved for the forward lounge was occupied by four stories of prison cells. Each new deck held eight cell blocks that could be entered only by one hatch.

  Every cell was fully equipped for the comfort of its occupant, but there was only one prisoner to a cell. Each cell was soundproof to prevent any contact with the Iteeche on either side. However, they were not intended to be solitary or to make the occupant feel isolated.

  Instead of blank gray walls, each cell showed a surround view of favored Iteeche locations. They could sing along from inside a huge stadium. Several beach scenes were available, as well as meadows, mountains, and other pleasant locations. The cell could be cycled through all these options to help its occupant find the one he wanted. There was even a bride auction with hundreds of lovely, nude and nubile Iteeche lovelies on the block to see just how high a bride price they could bring to their clan before they disappeared into a great lord's harem.

  Kris found that one disgusting, but it was popular among the junior lordlings.

  Leaving Nelly to keep an eye on the prisoners, especially the yelling and bellowing of the clan lords and the frustrated Planetary Overlord, Kris turned her focus elsewhere. She was most interested in two interrogations.

  She kept a close eye on the supervisor who had been named by the first prisoner. A pair of Iteeche intelligence officers from Tong's command applied the usual Iteeche techniques to breaking him. Sitting with her back against the wall, finding it easy to make herself look small among all these towering Iteeche, Megan observed the proceedings.

  That fellow's clan chief was also being interrogated. However, the two Iteeche in the room were being quite nice to him, treating him with deference. They even got him a flask of whiskey. It being metal, there was no way for him to notice that it kept refilling itself every time he set it back on the table in front of him.

  Kris asked Nelly to let her know if anything interesting developed there, then returned to the supervisor. Bruises and open cuts now showed on his face, and his hands and feet were chained to a very uncomfortable stool. It was clear, this heavy-handed approach to breaking the Iteeche was going nowhere fast.

  A dental tech arrived and pulled a tooth without anesthesia. That set the prisoner to howling.

  The two interrogators retreated to a corner to discuss what to do next. One was in favor of hot needles under his fingernails. The other preferred pulling more teeth. "He'll remember us for however long his miserable life is every time he bites into a nice soft yam."

  The subject of the conversation whimpered where he sat.

  Megan rose and joined the conversation. "Could I talk with him for a bit? You guys have been working hard and could likely use a break. Why don't you take thirty and get yourself a snack and cup of tea in the mess? I heard the cooks laid on quite a spread for you guards and interrogators."

  The Iteeche eyed the prisoner, then looked at the five-foot six Human. "You sure you can handle him?"

  Megan patted her service automatic. "If he causes me any serious trouble, I'll just put him to sleep."

  "Oh, right, you Humans are so soft in the heart that you do that. You are way too easy on crap like this. We'll have to fill out all sorts of paperwork to get anything fun released to us," one complained.

  "You can fill the paperwork out while you're on break. Maybe get a second cup of tea while you do it."

  That seemed to please them. They left the cell exchanging cheerful words and expectations.

  Megan waited until the cell quieted, then strolled over to stand in front of the shackled Iteeche.

  "Now you are mine."

  45

  Lieutenant Commander Megan Longknife circled the restrained Iteeche prisoner. He looked about as threatening as a pan of her nana's pastries before they went into the oven. Still, he was the central pin that could bring a huge conspiracy crashing down.

  She needed to break this pin and start this scheme tumbling to its destruction, and with it the likely destruction of several clans.

  Megan shook her head in disgust, and the four eyes of the Iteeche grew wider. If his chains allowed it, he would have cringed farther away from the Human.

  Actually, her disgust was for the disloyalty of the clans to their presumed all powerful Emperor. Even though just shy of half the Empire was in rebellion, the other half's only concern was to jockey for positions that would bring them more power and wealth.

  So far, at least one major clan had crashed and burned badly for their attempt.

  You would have thought that would have been a sufficient warning to the other so-called "loyal" clans and septs. Apparently, it hadn't.

  Maybe the Iteeche clan lords were just too dumb to learn. That, or too locked in their millennia-long games of power.

  Megan turned to this poor minion of the clan system. Her voice alternately dripped honey and poison. The prisoner spun between relaxation and panic. It was a mixture guaranteed to make him open to anything that might allow him to survive this mess his clan lordlings had gotten him into.

  Megan cheerfully explained how the Humans intended to refine the traditional Iteeche apology. "We've already gotten a snake and milked it," she whispered eagerly in the Iteeche's tiny ears.

  Lily provided a full video of the milking process.

  "We figure we can get four or five apologies from that one bite," she added, pride in the economics of horror.

  The Iteeche's face froze in terror.

  "This is how we think it would go. You know, compared with the wasteful, old-fashioned way of apologizing."

  Two videos began to play out. One was from the last Formal apology to the Emperor where a hundred officials had been executed at the same time. The camera view zoomed in from above to focus on just one. The snake bit and the condemned clan lord began to scream and wither in pain as his muscles knotted up and began to crack his bones.

  Beside that poor damned soul, a second video had opened up. Four big Iteeche each held an arm of someone that looked very much like the prisoner. A Human jabbed a needle the prisoner's arm and stepped back. The guards held on for only a few seconds more, then quickly released the prisoner as the Iteeche let out a blood curdling scream and collapsed onto the de
ck in agony.

  For the next few minutes, the prisoner sat, eyes riveted on the two deaths. One ended in five or six minutes with an axe severing his head. Then it vanished.

  The death throes of the other went on and on. While the spasms were less brutal, bones still shattered, only slower. The dying Iteeche's howls of pain and screams of agony were unending.

  At one point, the Iteeche standing by forced a breathing mask on the dying Iteeche.

  "Why?" the prisoner pleaded.

  "Your lungs are all knotted up and you're not getting enough oxygen. We can't have you dying too quickly."

  "You rancid pond scum! You monster from the darkest deep! You . . ." the prisoner ran out of air. When he gasped in two deep breaths, he let out a primal scream. He tried to look away.

  Lily locked his head in a Smart Metal™ brace and forced him to watch.

  He shut his eyes tight, refusing to see.

  Small grippers latched on to his eyelids and pried them open, forcing him to see the final death throes of the condemned prisoner. They were accompanied by screams that were only interrupted by gasps for breath.

  MEGAN, I HAVE TOLD THE ITEECHE INTERROGATORS TO TAKE THEIR TIME.

  THANK YOU, LILY.

  "Why hasn’t the axe men cut off his head?" the prisoner gasped.

  "Why end his suffering?" Megan answered. "The agony of death will continue long after the body seems to have collapsed. That's why we're giving him oxygen. He'll suffer for hours before he finally loses full consciousness."

  "Why would you do that to me? I don't matter. I'm not a Clan Chief or lord."

  "Yes, I know," Megan said. "However, you know who gave you orders to blow up the aqueducts. He's the one we want to have a nice long talk with. He's the one that would face the needle and the long death. You, could very easily live a long and successful life."

  "How?"