Kris Longknife - Emissary

by Mike Shepherd

  Kris nodded. “And doing that, he may have not had a lot of spare time to worry about what was going on outside his sovereignty. So, you think he’d be just as surprised as I was to find a whole lot of ambassadors waiting for me to discover them and ask for their papers?”

  “You have gotten to know him almost as well as we have,” Ruth said. “You know this could be him, but it likely isn’t. Say 60-40 or 70-30.”

  Again, Kris nodded. “I think I agree with you. Do you have any suggestions what I should do with them? All of them, not just the new ones but the five I’m supposed to have?”

  “If you spaced the lot of them, the neighbors would likely talk,” Trouble said, with an impish grin. “As much fun as that might be, it’s not something you can get away with. And there would be all the mess. So, I guess you’re just going to have to wade through them and get the job done. Do it for good old Wardhaven and all the little kids that don’t have a choice in the messes we adults get them into.”

  Kris chuckled. This was one of the reasons she loved her Grampa Trouble . . . when he wasn’t causing her a lot of trouble. He could make her laugh at the absurdity of life.

  With all the heavy stuff out of the way, she shared some time with her great-grandparents. They talked of children and the fun they were having. To the kids, this was just one great adventure. Spaceships were cool, and all the attention they were getting from grownups was just tickling them funny. Kris found herself regretting that she couldn’t spend a lot of time with her two, but she was very glad that her two most wonderful ancestors had hitched a ride with her and them.

  With any luck, it would all turn out fine.

  Of course, it was up to Kris to create that luck.

  Chapter 29

  Three days later, Grand Admiral, Her Royal Highness Kristine Longknife struggled to keep her mouth shut.

  Around her, staff watched from her flag bridge as her escort fleet made its approach to the Imperial planet. Beside her, Jacques and Amanda failed to keep their disinterested cool; their mouths hung open in awe and dismay.

  “I would never have believed,” Amanda whispered, “that a planet could support a civilization this over-grown. The population must be huge. Nelly, are you sure all those lights on the night side are cities?”

  “The planet is split fifty-fifty, water and land,” Nelly responded. “I believe a significant amount of the water has been used up or expended as fuel. The expanded continents below us are approximately 45% urban. Cultivated land accounts for another 45%. The rest are mountains and arctic wastes.”

  “What happened to the deserts?” Jacques asked. “Deserts, grasslands. That has to be land that is worthless.”

  Nelly actually chuckled. “As John Junior, will point out to you, the poop has to go somewhere. When you’ve been civilized for ten thousand years or more, that’s a lot of fertilizer to dispose of.”

  “I thought that ‘Ten Thousand Years’ was a myth,” Jacques said. “A boast. I begin to believe it just might be possible.”

  “Even with the oceans in retreat, they have colonized the waters,” Nelly said. “I can verify that habitats cover about a quarter of the sea area. Some are cities, others are things like fish farms, all in the coastal shallows. Further out in deeper water, I have identified activities on the bottom of the ocean. Much of the equatorial and temperate zones on the continents are fully utilized for crops as well as some of the more spectacular urban areas. Farther north and south you find rather monotonous urban zones. I suspect that is where the workers live.”

  “And we beat these people in the Iteeche war,” Jack whispered softly.

  “Say, instead, that ‘We both grew sick of the horrible waste, and exhausted by the war effort’,” Kris said, quoting her Grampa Trouble.

  “I wonder how many planets they have like this?” Amanda asked.

  “Aren’t you the economist?” Jacques, her anthropologist husband asked. “Can a planet this huge make any economic contribution to an Empire? Can it even feed and make what it needs to exist?”

  “A good question,” Amanda answered. “If its value added is good governance that allows the other planets to produce more efficiently, then yes, it makes sense, economically, to have all the government here.”

  “I have stumbled across a fact,” Nelly said. “They claim they produce so much fecal matter that they ship it off planet to others that need the fertilizer. Is that economically feasible?”

  “If they’re shipping exotic foodstuffs to the planet, they’d have to do something with the additional sewage that goes down the drain,” Amanda said.

  “And what would happen to a place like this,” Kris whispered softly, “if the wheels came off the wagon? What would happen if there was no more Empire to feed it?”

  “Mass starvation,” Amanda answered.

  “Rioting, total collapse, mass slaughter and finally, cannibalism,” Jacques added.

  “How badly must the civil war be going that an Emperor faced with this at his doorstep has called for a human, and even worse, a Longknife, to lend him a hand?” Jack asked.

  “And him having four already,” Jacques quipped.

  Kris’s sigh might have outweighed a battlecruiser.

  I’ve fought massive alien base ships to keep them from lazing planets from space. Billions would have died under their fire. Now all I have to do is persuade a bunch of Iteeche that they want to make nice and not destroy the roots of their own civilization.

  A piece of cake.

  Yeah, right.

  The space station they approached was weird beyond belief. Kris chuckled. Alien.

  Like a human station, it perched atop a space elevator that went down and a counterweight that went up. Beyond that, Kris had never seen anything quite like it.

  Every human station that Kris had ever seen had been a rotating can. The A Deck was the outer hull of the station and piers projected from the A Deck for ships to dock to. It had always seemed perfectly reasonable to Kris.

  Trust an alien to do it different.

  What she now studied was an impossible arrangement. However, as the Princess Royal changed her angle of approach, so did Kris’s perspective. Seen from a three quarters view, it all fell into place.

  Sort of.

  At the top of the bean stalk, was a central spindle. It had to be at least a hundred kilometers long. Strung along that spindle were nine . . . snowflakes.

  Each one of the structures spreading out perpendicular to the spindle was a unique creation. They had five, six, seven and even eight spines pointing out from the spindle, and each one of those spines had various spars reaching out at ninety degree angles. From the distance, Kris was viewing it from, each of the spars seemed to have hair on them.

  “Magnify,” Kris said and Nelly quickly did.

  The station jumped at Kris and filled the screen. The “hair” became piers with ships docked to them. Lots of ships attached to lots of piers.

  “The cross-bar things,” Lieutenant Longknife said, “It looks like they must form the equivalent of our decks,” she said slowly.

  “Each of the decks would have different gravity,” Kris muttered.

  “Want to bet that we’re directed at one of the middle ones?” Jack said.

  “No bet,” Kris answered. “It must be harsh on those docked close in or far out. Little gravity or heavy gravity, take your pick.”

  “Maybe not,” Amanda said. “Maybe they have people born on planets with lighter or heavier gravity and they like the different berths. Plus, bulky things like machinery and food would be easier to handle in light gravity. And as we all know, shit flows downhill. I bet you the extra weight at the end of the pipes creates a vacuum that sucks the sewage right along without too much pumping.”

  “Could they be shipping that much sewage off world?” Jacques asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Amanda answered. “All the Iteeche merchant ships still look like puff balls to me. Maybe they ship the steerage customers off planet from tho
se high gravity piers.

  “In boats that are totally steerage, or partially loaded with sewage,” Kris concluded with a sour scowl. “Stinky ride.”

  “Kris,” Nelly put in, “I’ve done the numbers on this and it seems to me that this planet might be supporting a population somewhere between a hundred and a hundred-fifty billion. Maybe more. I don’t know how to factor in the urban areas in the shallow coastal seas.”

  That got a low whistle from the people around Kris.

  “Hold it,” Meg Longknife said, looking very puzzled. “I know we have a high birthrate on Santa Maria. When I left we’d just dropped our birthrate to three percent. Even if they’ve only got theirs down to one percent, that would mean a billion live births a year! Wouldn’t it? Nelly, did I get the numbers wrong?

  “You have them right. If their birth rate is anything like that, and their death rate doesn’t do something to balance matters better, they would need to ship a whole lot of people off planet every year.”

  “But would they, Nelly?” Kris said. “They may spawn lots and lots of tadpoles, but how many get “chosen” from the breeding pools and allowed to mature into adults. Ron is very proud of his Chooser. Maybe they don’t choose any more than they need to maintain the population at a desired level?”

  “But they chose to let their planet become this populated,” Amanda said, pointedly.

  As one, they all turned toward the screen. Nelly replaced the space station with a view of the dark side of the planet. Close to half of it was lit up like a yule tree.

  Amanda shook her head. “We need more information on the Iteeche. The more I see of this place, the more questions I have, and I’m not getting any answers”

  “Maybe there was a reason they didn’t want humans wandering into their Empire,” Kris said thoughtfully.

  “A very good reason,” Jack added.

  Chapter 30

  Once Kris’s fleet docked, matters went quickly . . . and slowly . . . all at the same time.

  Kris had issued orders for the crew and passengers on her battlecruisers as well as merchant ships to stay aboard until arrangements could be made and all issues resolved with their hosts. So, of course, the merchant ships emptied out like a rock concert gone quiet.

  Only to be brought by to a roaring halt at the end of the dock arm by armed Iteeche guards. Heavily armed Iteeche guards: rifles and long swords backed up with others holding long pointed spears.

  Kris set a battalion of Royal US Marines hustling down the dock to herd the wayward merchants and curious sailors back to their fancy liners and merchant ships. They went, complaining loudly.

  A quick call to Ron verified what Kris expected. Until Kris had been presented to His Worshipful Emperor, no one went anywhere. “I have been informed that a very large and well apportioned palace has been set aside for your use, as well as spacious quarters for the merchants in your entourage,” Ron told her.

  “My merchants will want to meet with your merchants,” Kris pointed out.

  “They will. They will, in due time. First, though, you must present yourself to the Emperor and be recognized.”

  KRIS, I SUSPECT THAT “PRESENT YOURSELF,” AND “BE RECOGNIZED,” MEAN MUCH MORE THAT THE WORDS THEMSELVES, Nelly advised.

  NO DOUBT. Kris observed, and turned to Lieutenant Longknife. “Please advise our captain to adjust the Princess Royal to Condition Palatial A Plus and then some. I’ll be needing the maximum sized Forward Lounge for a complete staff meeting. Inform the fleet I’ll want the captains and key staff of every ship. Inform the merchants that I will require all passengers and crew excepting a minimum watch to be here in two hours. RSVP is mandatory. The bar will be open, but not free. Any questions.”

  “No ma’am,” Megan answered, cheerful as any Longknife who had a hard job to do, saluted and was off.

  “Comm, send to Ron, inviting him to our little meeting and ask him to bring along as many mean looking guards as he may choose.”

  “Message sent. He replies that he will be there, Admiral.”

  “Thank you. Nelly, my key staff over here. Especially Abby. We’ve got some writing to do.”

  As they wrote, the ship grew and changed around them.

  Chapter 31

  Ninety minutes later as Kris finished formally dressing for the forthcoming festivities, a schematic of the Princess Royal appeared on the wall in front of her.

  “I thought you might want to see how things have changed,” Nelly said.

  “How bad can it be?” Jack said, looking around Kris as the same ship diagram.

  “Not bad,” Kris said as she took in all the changes. “Nelly, was the captain okay with this?’

  “He asked for some changes. I ran them by Captain Tosan, who brought in Commodore Ajax because she had experience with you doing strange stuff and they agreed to what I’d suggested.”

  “You suggested,” Jack said, eye brows going up.

  “You must admit, this is much more logical, and you’ve been moving Admiral’s Country and the quarterdeck around the ship pretty easily,” Nelly said, almost sounding defensive.

  “I know we’ve got a lot of people coming, but do we really need three quarterdecks?” Jack asked. “The merchant sailors and officers and the business people don’t really need a formal quarterdeck, do they?”

  Kris stepped over to run her fingers along the schematic. “How large is the Forward Lounge?” which wasn’t at all forward, but right smack amidships.

  “One point four kilometers across at the largest point,” Nelly answered.

  “It looks like an amphitheater.” Jack observed.

  “It is, with the starboard side slanting down two stories to the port side in steps,” Nelly pointed out. “The civilian quarterdeck is on the top deck. It forms a stepped balcony, about as wide as we could make it. Most of the civilians enter there, find a drink at several of the bars I borrowed from the dining rooms and pubs on the transports. Several of them were very well appointed. They provide good service to the business types riding in your wake.”

  “How many bars, Nelly?” Kris asked.

  “Six, evenly spaced around the starboard bulkhead.”

  “And the second deck, Nelly?” Jack asked.

  “That’s the official quarterdeck of the Princess Royal. Fleet personnel have been advised to skip the first one and go to the second deck where full military honors will be exchanged. There’s a passageway that gets them around to the lower portside where the Forward Lounge crew will give them the full “O” club treatment.”

  “Our quarters are now on the lower deck, below all this,” Jack pointed out.

  “As are most of your team, Kris. There is a formal quarterdeck to render diplomatic honors to the ambassador level officials and their staff. You will be greeting them and Marines will be standing by to help you usher them around to the seats just below your platform. The staff of the Forward Lounge will keep their drinks full. We’re charging those drinks to King Ray.”

  “And if a riot breaks out?” Kris asked, only half seriously.

  “I can raise a wall between the three groups to keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” Nelly replied.

  Kris eyed the set up. Likely quite a few of the wealthier merchants would not like being dumped in the cheap seats, but just as likely, up there they’d flock together and exchange nasty comments about her. There was no other way to get over ten thousand people in one place to tell them just exactly how they would live for the next year and what the rules were that they would have to live by if they wanted to make their fortune and not land in Kris’s brig.

  Or keep their head off an Iteeche pike.

  With a shrug, Kris went to meet the diplomats she’d been saddled with. She’d been careful to pull on her spidersilk underarmor; no doubt it would dull their diplomatic daggers.

  As Kris headed for the hatch between her day quarters and the quarterdeck, the bulkhead moved close to her. Behind her, her day quarters expanded; Kris wondered who was losing spa
ce, but didn’t care enough to ask. No doubt, all would be made right by the end of the evening. A wet bar appeared on the bulkhead to her left and two bartenders and several waiters and waitresses in dress Marine Red and Blues stepped through a new hatch to attend the drinks that had also miraculously appeared at the ready.

  “Got to love that Smart Metal,” Nelly said.

  On the quarterdeck, the band was already in place. Captain Klum had chosen to skip greeting the arriving Navy officers on the quarterdeck above to serve Kris’s diplomatic needs.

  NELLY, HAVE YOU PROVIDED CAPTAIN KLUM WITH A LIST OF WHO WE EXPECT TONIGHT?

  YES, KRIS, AMBASSADORS AND STAFF, AS WELL AS FULL PICTURES. I PRIMED HIS COMPUTER THOROUGHLY.

  THANK YOU.

  Nelly did not need to name the first man across the brow. The Honorable Kingston LeJuinne was a white-haired imposing man, a good four inches taller than Kris. As Earth ambassador, newly developed protocol made him the dean of Kris’s diplomatic corps.

  As he came across the gangway, the band met him with four ruffles and flourishes. Captain Klum saluted him and Kris stepped forward to receive him. As Kris was learning, civilians expected honors, but rarely rendered them. He held out his hand to Kris and she shook it.

  “I’m so glad to finally meet the inimitable Princess Kris Longknife,” he said.

  “I wish we could have arranged it sooner,” Kris said, diplomatically.

  “Well, my government gave me my orders. What can one do but obey?” he said with an all too well-practiced professional shrug. “I do wish you could have seen your way through to hold a formal dinner once the ambassadorial cats were let out of the bag, so to speak.”

  “I thought about it seriously, but the Iteeche Lord arranging for this mission asked that I delay until his master could make arrangements to greet you as well.”

  That got ever-so-slight a twitch of an eyebrow from LeJuinne. Was he annoyed that two could play this surprise game? Was he as nervous now as Kris was to be only minutes away from meeting Ron’s chooser, a most senior and personal advisor to the worshipful Imperium?