Kris Longknife Stalwart

by Mike Shepherd

  "Ships are always leaving for the new colonies. We can change your name so that the clans would never find you. We can add you to the first wave of immigrants and drop you in the first wave. Half of those die. We could also ship you to a young colony that has survived the worst of the start. You decide whether it will be you who makes the Most Sincere and Very Complete Apology to the Emperor using the needle injection, go to a raw colony, or to one that is in the early stages of progress. Which choice will you make?"

  A few minutes later, the supervisor stumbled off, his arms in the firm grip of two MPs. He was headed for a holding cell. In a few days, he'd ship out to a colony ten years into its development. He'd likely survive there. Maybe even prosper.

  Megan passed the clan lordling's name along to Kris and collapsed into her chair. Lily turned it into a comfortable recliner with a very pleasant back massager. Megan was grateful for the care. It had been hard enough to watch executions the old-fashioned way. This new way was horrible beyond comparison. No doubt it would be easier on the watchers than it was to those dying. However, Megan’s ears still rang with the screams; she feared that she had added another potential nightmare to her nights.

  Fifteen minutes later, a young lordling was hauled through the cell door. He was a soft fellow. Still, even after being strapped to the stool and with his arms in restraint, he sounded too ambitious and confident as he coldly promised vicious reprisal on the two guards in place of answers to their questions.

  He was quite shocked when his failure to answer the question got him slugged in the gut. That brought on a new wave of threats that ended with him punched hard in the throat.

  The protrusion that might pass for a jaw on an Iteeche was too small to really get a fist into.

  In Megan's opinion, the guy hung on the edge of a confession. He'd look like he was about to break, then pull back. After the fifth repeat of that, Megan again sent the interrogators off, this time to a long lunch.

  They left, talking among themselves about how good the snacks had been and how good lunch might be.

  Megan let the hatch to the cell close and the room fall silent. She stalked around the prisoner several times, as if she was picking the most painful point at which to begin her questioning.

  Finally, she began with almost a cliché. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. Which would you like?"

  "What can a weak Human do to hurt an Iteeche?" the lordling sneered at Megan. Big mistake.

  Lily didn't need a command. The chair sent electrical shocks through the prisoner. Everywhere his body touched the stool, he got shocked. His legs, his bottom, even his arms. They were secured to what appeared to be ruggedly hewn beams of wood. Now, they too, sparked.

  In his restraints, the Iteeche lordling's body danced and spasmed for a few seconds. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was gone, leaving the prisoner slumped in his restraints, gasping for breath.

  "Do you still wonder what a 'weak Human' can do to you?"

  "H-how c-could you do that?" he stammered.

  "With magic," Megan said, diffidently.

  "Magic metal, not wood," the Iteeche spat, as he rubbed his shoulders against the so-called wood.

  "Now, as I said, easy way or hard way. Which will it be?"

  The Iteeche focused all four eyes on Megan. "What's the easy way?"

  "You give us something and we give you something. If you answer our questions correctly, we change your name. Your total identity. The clans will never find you."

  Megan took a long breath before continuing. "We will find you a billet on a colony ship, headed out for the rim of the Empire. You can lose yourself among colonists scheduled to be the first to land on a new planet. There, you can take your chances with the bugs, worms, and other things that kill colonists who don't starve to death because their crops fail."

  Megan paused to let that option sink in. "Alternately, we could put you on a ship headed for a colony that has survived the worst of the beginning. Give you a better chance of surviving and still make a place for yourself."

  "I'd be a dirt-grubbing farmer," the prisoner spat, again.

  "Do you have any special skills. Are you a doctor? An engineer? A mechanic?"

  "Of course not, those all require getting your hands dirty."

  The arrogance of the young fool seemed to have no bounds.

  "Okay, I'm going to let you in on a secret. Here's what happens if you don't tell us everything we want to know." So, Megan told the lordling how he would die if he didn't give up the names. She avoided showing him the video.

  Iteeche were normally a pale cream color. By the time she finished her description, the prisoner would make a ghost look well-tanned.

  With a deep gulp, he began to spill his guts. "If I tell you who ordered me to arrange the explosion on the planet, are you sure I won't die that way?"

  "I assure you in the name of Grand Admiral Kris Longknife that you will not have to make an apology to the Emperor."

  The prisoner took several deep breaths, then asked, "What will happen to me?"

  "Well," Megan said, keeping her voice matter-of-fact. "Depending on how helpful you are, you could go on one of those two colonial ships. If you insist on not going, we'll turn you loose. You can make your way in a much-reduced clan. I'm sure your talking to us won't have a negative impact on your advancement," Megan said, knowing very well that he'd be dead before midnight.

  "Could I be made a clan lord on one of the colonial planets?" he stuttered.

  "I understand that the clans don't set themselves up on colonial planets for thirty or forty years," Megan said, reminding the lordling of what he knew already. "They wait until the early colonists have created the infrastructure that makes the planet a civilized place to be. I guess we could try to slip you in then, but what clan role could we put you on?"

  The prisoner realized the hopelessness of his situation. If he kept his present name, there were way too many senior clan lords who knew about his role in the operation. He could guess his role in the downfall of the clan.

  He'd be a dead man.

  Clan roles were tightly held. There was no way to slip his name into a minor lordship billet. Everyone from that clan on the planet would know he wasn't one of them.

  The Iteeche closed all four of his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he began to talk. Ten minutes later, the guards walked him out to a holding cell, next to the supervisor he'd ordered to get a bomb made and planted.

  They were both headed for successful startup colonies, though each would get a different one. There they would make their way in life like every other early colonist.

  By getting their hands dirty.

  Megan herself felt dirty. She wanted to wash all of this off and send it down the drain to be consumed in the reactors.

  Instead, she reported to Kris. The admiral knew she was coming, and she knew what she'd report. Still, she made time to have tea with Megan, seated on the couch across from her.

  "How bad was it?" the admiral asked.

  "Kris, I say this as your cousin. If you can avoid playing that video Lily and Nelly concocted, you'll be a lot happier with this day."

  "I understand. I turned the sound down a few seconds into it. I still have nightmares about that execution of a hundred rebel clan lords."

  "This kind of execution will just go on and on. It feels like forever."

  "Take the rest of the day off, Meg. I'd like to have you with me at dinner tonight. I'll be entertaining three clan lords and a guy who will never be a Planetary Overlord."

  Megan rationed herself a huge Irish sigh before saying, "I'll be there, Admiral. I've got to get a shower and enough food in me to calm my stomach. It's in a knot."

  "Understood, Meg. Job well done. Now, go relax. If you need time to debrief this horror, you have my permission to go to the head of the line and talk to any of the ship's therapists immediately."

  "I may take you up on that, ma'am."

  Megan finished her cup
of tea and headed for her quarters. They weren't as palatial as Kris's, but with the ship expanded, she had plenty of room to put in a massage tub and fill it full of hot water before she turned on the jets.

  She blanked her mind, relaxed, and took a trip to the beautiful hills of Santa Maria, then laughed softly as her mind's eye insisted on starting with the mountain that had been cut off perfectly at about the middle of its former height.

  No one had figured out where the rest of the mountain went when it vanished. Megan's great-grandma had been one of the flighty teenagers to pull that stunt . . . and live.

  She might be a Longknife on one limb of her family tree, but she had some real crazy Irish on several of the other branches. It truly took the luck of the Irish to get her this far.

  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, protect me tonight. I'll be dining with snakes on the table, and poisonous ones they'll be.”

  46

  Grand Admiral Kris Longknife was entertaining as befit her rank and that of her putative guests. Her day quarters were as grand and imperial as Nelly could make them. Ancient statues vied with holographs of forests and waterfalls on one side of the room, a beach sunset stood frozen on the other.

  Offset near the center of it all was a round table set for seven Iteeche and only four Humans.

  The three lords of middling clans circulated among her and her other guests. Each had been allowed to walk down the passageway and enter Kris's day quarters unescorted by guards for the last hundred yards.

  That was intended to restore some of their lost dignity from spending the day in a solitary cell. After all, this was a dinner in their honor.

  The fact that the passageway they trod was lined with weapons detectors and explosive sniffers wasn't mentioned to them. Still, Nelly reported when each of them had proven unarmed and safe.

  If they hadn't been, Nelly would have slammed the door in their face. They would have found the passageway converted to a very small bomb-proof cell.

  Now, however, they exchanged small talk, waiting for the supposed Planetary Overlord they would work for when they landed.

  Sam entered with a flourish and began to work the room as if this were the usual clan social where the juniors would fawn over the seniors and wait for any nugget of wisdom that dropped from the lips of their betters. The three lords from middling clans quick made a beeline for his august presence. However, several other Iteeche, all in uniform, were just as quick. The circle around him as he held court was large. The elephant in the room was ignored.

  No one spoke of the day. No one spoke of the cells. Of course, since none of them had been interrogated, there was little to say about their day. However, being experts in saying nothing, they proved to be quite successful in doing just that.

  Marines in full dress uniforms, with weapons well out of sight, entered, carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres.

  For the Iteeche, there were lovely ceramic bowls divided into four quarters. Each portion held a different tasty treat for the Iteeche to spear and enjoy live. Different bowls held different tidbits; each Iteeche chose their own bowl.

  The pecking order was quickly established. Sam, the future Planetary Overlord had first call. The three middling clan lords managed to avoid any conflict. Only after they had chosen were the nibbles offered to the admirals and general.

  For the Humans, the small finger food was tiny crab puffs and slivers of fish or meat on miniature crackers. Cubes of different cheeses also lay scattered artistically around the plate, mixed in with slices of fruit or vegetables. They were all the same so there was no dispute about who chose first.

  The ship's chefs had outdone themselves again.

  Kris let the conversation center on every little thing except what everyone wanted to talk about: the explosion.

  General Compeel shared with the clan lords the success of the huge operation that moved four hundred thousand soldiers down the beanstalk to join the garrison of Balan. Meanwhile, the same number of troops from Balan went up the beanstalk. Not a ferry had a vacant seat going either way.

  Admiral Tong passed along to all of them that the fleet was ready to sail. The thousand local ships had shaken down well with the five wings of the Second Battlecruiser Fleet. The two thousand ships to be left behind to guard Balan were organized and had drilled operating as an independent task force.

  "We're ready to sail any time you give the order," Admiral Tong told Kris.

  "Good, because I want to give that order very soon. We have planets to conquer."

  "You think we can leave soon?" the expectant Planetary Overlord asked. "So, you have solved the puzzle of the explosions?"

  "Yes," Kris said, then, after a pause, added, "We captured both of the bombers while they were attempting their getaway."

  "You did?" said the big fellow. "We heard all sorts of things. That you had them. That you didn't have them. That they'd suicided before saying anything."

  "Oh, I would not allow anyone to suicide on me," Kris said. "We have a new device that forces the mouth open so poison can't be obtained. After we remove the tooth, we have no trouble with the prisoner avoiding their fate."

  As one, the four clan lords' tongues went to the void in their mouths where a poison tooth had been removed earlier in the day.

  "Have they made a Most Sincere and Very Complete Apology to the Emperor?" the future planetary overlord asked.

  "We Humans have recently refined the technique for making such an Apology." Kris led them to the table as she told them about the idea of "milking" the poison from the snake and injecting it in a smaller dosage.

  "We even have a pretty good idea about how it will go. If you'll take your seats."

  The table was round. Kris sat, and offered the hopeful Planetary Overlord the stool at her right hand. He sat.

  Admiral Tong slipped into the next stool, then waved the clan lord who they knew had blown up the aqueduct to join him.

  Admiral Linn, the future Supreme Planetary Overseer for Balan took the next seat, while ushering the clan lord who attacked the first responders to join him. General Compeel took the next stool and waved the clan lord who had only carried the messages for the future Overlord to sit beside him.

  Megan, Admiral Kitano, and Jack rounded out the table.

  While the four Iteeche civilians had been checked thoroughly for weapons, every one of the uniformed personnel at the table had their sidearm handy.

  "My computer, Nelly, has made up a hologram of what such an execution might look like compared to a normal one. Nelly?"

  Two half-sized Iteeche were projected in the middle of the table. It was so real that Kris could see sweat running down the prisoners’ naked bodies and the tremble of their narrow chins. Also obvious were the dark bruises and cuts on their bodies. Nelly had modeled them after what she'd seen at the apology a hundred Clan Lords had recently made to the Emperor.

  Disembodied hands held both of them in place.

  A red-clad snake wrangler opened the lid on a glass jar. The snake struck as a Human injected the other Iteeche.

  Both Iteeche screamed and fell to their knees. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, and the two doomed Iteeche just knelt there, whimpering. Then their bodies began to knot up and tear itself apart.

  One body tore itself apart quickly. The other was much slower. However, the agony on either face as they screamed their lungs dry at the torture was no different.

  Kris could not look away. She was like a bird, mesmerized by a snake. The slow death was so horrible to look at that she had to struggle to hold herself back. When the last death throes were over, she needed to be ready to strike like a snake at these four Iteeche Clan Lords. She would have only a moment to extract a confession from them before that golden opportunity was gone.

  So, Kris studied the Iteeche lords as they watched in horror. From the looks on their faces, she had a pretty good suspicion that they were seeing their own deaths. Since death to traitors was the eternal mantra of the Empire, none of them saw any way out
of this scenario.

  The last spasm, last jerk, last uncontrolled gurgle ended.

  For a moment, there was silence.

  Then the holographs on the table were replaced by the initial bomber. His confession was cut down to just the basics.

  "That has nothing to do with me," his clan lord snapped. "I knew nothing of this."

  Kris paused the parade of figures across the table. "Be careful what you say, gentlemen. The last one lying to me is the one who dies that death."

  "What do you mean?" the clan lord who only carried the water asked.

  "He told the truth. We are providing him with a new identity and shipping him off to a colony world on the rim. He may die there, or he may live and prosper."

  "You are saving him from making a Most Sincere and Very Complete Apology to the Emperor?" the not-so-future Planetary Overlord demanded.

  "Yes, I am," Kris said. "I think the one who ordered him to blow up my planet is the one who needs to make such an apology."

  The named supervisor now spoke from the center of the table. When he finished, no one said a word.

  "Shall I show the next one? We have interviewed him."

  "Have you also offered him a free ride to the colonies so he can grub in the dirt?" his clan lord said, snidely.

  "Yes, I have," Kris answered

  "Are you such a fool that you trust a traitor's word?”

  "When several other people verify portions of the story," Kris said, "yes, I begin to trust the word of a traitor. Now, I'm about to play the next confession. Once I start it, only one option will remain on the table for some of you."

  Four gulps were audible from around the table.

  "I had nothing to do with those bombs," the water carrier half-shouted as he jumped into the conversation. "I was just asked to invite that clan lord to a meal with our future Planetary Overlord."

  "Shut up!" the never-to-be-Overlord screamed.

  Megan stood and waved that junior clan lord toward the door to Kris's day quarters. It opened before they got there. Four Iteeche Marines were waiting for him. It was a most hangdog Iteeche clan lord that walked into their custody.