Kris Longknife - Emissary

by Mike Shepherd

  The beak and eyes on Roth’s face relaxed from pure death to the normal Iteeche unreadable blandness of his species. Beside him, his headsman took two steps back and, with two grunts, raised their poles back up and ground then down hard.

  “Now, I’ve drawn up a set of simple ground rules. If we were in a war zone like Alwa, we’d call them the Articles of War. Here, we’ll just call the them the Article of Accords. The Iteeche Emperor wants us to stay to ourselves. Therefore, traders and merchants will live in the Pink Coral Palace and do their work from there as well. It is large, near the Imperial Precincts itself, and quite spacious. It will also be very well-guarded. Iteeche who have received approval to meet with you will be admitted into the palace.”

  There was some noticeable shuffling of feet, but under the watchful eyes of the axe men, no one risked a word. “You may request to meet with craftsmen and traders of any kind that interest you. You may also post on the doors of the palace any wares that you think the Iteeche might become interested in. And yes, I know,” Kris said, to head off low murmurs, “that this is a very old school way of getting information out there. However, I’m told that the Iteeche equivalent to our net is not accessible. I agree with you that this is a challenge we ought to be able to resolve in some fashion, but it’s not something I’ve been able to solve yet. I’m sure a lot of you will, no doubt, be ready to offer me your assistance in changing this.”

  That got some loud guffaws. Ron quickly leaned over to explain the human sense of humor to his Chooser. The axes stayed where they were.

  “I am in negotiations to arrange for some recreation and relaxation facilities dirtside for both merchant and Royal Sailors. This came as a surprise to our hosts. If you’ve taken a look down there, you may have noticed it’s crowded beyond belief. Iteeche don’t appear to need space to get away from each other. If necessary, we will arrange to convert some of our warships into recreation sites for both service personnel, merchant crews and other officials. I strongly suspect that as soon as word gets back about conditions out here, the next convoy will have some enterprising hoteliers and restauranteurs with a number of pleasure ships of the first order. For now, we’ll just have to make do. Read through the Articles of Accord. No one will be allowed off ship again without signing them. Keep them handy. If you have any doubts that what you are thinking about doing is a bad idea, don’t do it. I assure you, you are deep into the woods where asking permission is going to work a whole lot better than asking forgiveness.”

  Kris paused one last time.

  “I really think you’ll find that forgiveness is not much in supply where the Iteeche Empire is concerned.”

  Beside her, Ron nodded solemnly. Beside him, Roth sat solid as stone.

  Chapter 35

  Next morning, Kris rendered honors then paused at the brow of the Princess Royal. On the pier, two shabby contraptions waited for Kris and Jack.

  Kris was not amused.

  Four muscular Iteeche each stood beside two sedan chairs. Very plain sedan chairs, as in chipped rattan and dull brown cloth, wide open for everyone to see you as you were carried by. Distinctly low class compared to what Ron and his chooser had arrived in the night before.

  “Is this somebody’s idea of a joke?” Jack asked.

  “Joke, political maneuvering, it’s all the same if you can keep your sense of humor.”

  “You want me to check them out for bombs?”

  “Don’t bother. We won’t be using them. Nelly.”

  “Yes, Kris.”

  “I want two sedan chairs. Top of the line. Deluxe models, full force royal and then some. Oh, and improve the design and leave room for growth as well.”

  “You bet,” tasted of pure delight.

  Behind Kris on the quarterdeck, two sedan chairs flowed up from the deck. The chairs were fully enclosed in boxes of royal blue. On the one closest to Kris was a door with King Ray’s royal seal. Rising from the two front corners were small flagpoles, one with the US flag, the other with Kris’s five star flag. Jack’s two flags included the Marine globe and starship as well as a red one with three white stars. Golden filigree screens on the front, back, and both doors, showed opulence and allowed for the free flow of air as well as a good view out. But it was the shining chrome plated carrying poles that changed everything.

  The rattan chairs provided had been like the one Ron arrived in the night before. They had two poles with an Iteeche at each quarter walking outside the traces and holding the sedan chair with one hand. Kris didn’t look forward to that uneven ride. Nelly’s design still had two poles but they were shining silver, and between them were supple brown leather harnesses, two before, and two aft. The porters would stand inside the traces and lift the burden with their shoulders as well as their hands. This allowed for a much better distribution of the weight as well as a more balanced ride.

  “I bet everyone that sees this is going to be jealous,” Nelly crowed.

  “What part did you miss about the Empire not wanting the lowly working class to see all the sparkly new things we humans can bring to them, Nelly?” Jack asked.

  “Kris asked for a super deluxe ride. This one gleams super.”

  “It’s not the gleam that I’m worried about,” Jack put in. “It’s the improvement that that harness is blaring to the housetops. A minor improvement like that could half the number of porters needed to carry one person. You need to ask Amanda and Jacques what that might do to the labor force.”

  “I knew exactly what I was doing when I did it, Jack.” Nelly’s words were cold, glacially cold.

  “I figured you did,” Kris said. “Now, about my porters. Pale plain skin didn’t cut it last night. Any suggestions?”

  “Ron’s porters were naked,” Jack said.

  “But their tattoos had all kinds of designs to them,” Nelly said. “Should I duplicate them?”

  “That might not be safe,” Kris said. “We don’t know what the symbols meant. Still, I guess dressing them in some sort of classical Earth servant garb might be overdoing it. We need something else.”

  “I could knock together some nanos to paint temporary tattoos on them. Say something like you wore to Dance Up the Moon on Hikila.”

  “I like that Nelly, but the flower and fish designs might not go over here.”

  Jack coughed softly. “When I was a boy, I loved the stories about super heroes with super powers. I used to get in trouble with my mom because most of what the women, and guys, wore was pretty not there, and what was there was skin tight.”

  “Kris liked them too. I helped her figure out new places to hide the books from her mother.”

  Kris turned to the OOD. “Bring those Iteeche aboard.”

  Two minutes later some very dismayed porters were trying to decide which to react to the most, their new body covering or the new sedan chair they were expected to carry. Nelly hadn’t actually copied any trademarked character. Still, they now sported full body tattoos blending bright red, green, blue, yellow and black with bold symbols from old Earth’s heraldry.

  Jack took the time to have Major Puller order up the two ready alert platoons from the Intrepid. Three minutes later, they double timed it onto the pier, dress Red and Blues immaculate; the additional load out of ammunition pouches, even bandoliers for grenadiers, was hardly noticeable. Half of the P. Royal’s waiting Marines platoons were also dismissed to make a quick run to the armory. They returned loaded with not only enough extra pouches for themselves, but also for their comrades who had stayed alertly on guard.

  Kris studied all the revised preparations for a walk to the Emperor, and decided it was good. Ready, she let Gunny close the hatch for both of them and with two Marine platoons in front and another two aft, properly reinforced with both forensic and electronic surveillance elements, they were off.

  The ride was smooth; Kris ordered the convoy to a trot. They had a ferry to catch and they’d used up most of the extra cushion Kris had included in their schedule. Their two chairs quickly
caught up with Ron’s own chair and his escort of a dozen Iteeche Marines, two headsmen and a snake charmer who had a smaller sedan chair of his own carried by only two Iteeche in crimson tattoos.

  Ron called to have an Iteeche Marine lower the grill between him and Kris. She made hers to vanish away.

  “Those are not the chairs that were sent for you.” He glanced fore and aft. “Those are certainly not the porters from the Imperial palace.”

  “Were chairs sent for me from the Imperial Palace?” Kris asked. “The ones that arrived looked like these,” and Nelly created a hologram between them of the ones left behind.

  “No, those are not what His Worshipfulness sent to carry you into His August Presence. It is a great honor to be carried all the way to within his sight. It would have been a major insult for you to have ridden in those.”

  “I’m glad you’re here to warn me,” Kris said.

  “Do you know what happened to the original chairs?” Ron asked.

  “What you see is what arrived.”

  Ron nodded his head, a negative that Kris had to adjust to. “This is bad. We would have had to correct the error. That would have taken time. We would have missed our ferry ride down and you arriving late to the Imperial invitation would have been cause for someone to make a formal apology. Likely either me or my chooser.”

  Kris added all that had happened this morning and did not like what it totaled out to. “I take it that there are some who do not approve of a human meeting with the Emperor. Are all those wanting to cause trouble counted among the ranks of the rebels or are there other oars in this water?”

  “Many fins, too many of them swimming in different directions,” Ron told her.

  Kris thought on that as they covered the distance to the end of the quay. There they were further delayed. It seemed the guard had orders to allow no humans out and somehow the Imperial invitation had not been logged.

  It was a good thing that Ron was with Kris. He demanded exit for himself and his entire party. His axe men scowled and the snake bowl’s lid got rattled.

  Suddenly the exit guards were backing out of Ron’s way as quickly as they could without tumbling over each other. Ron quickly moved out, Kris and Jack right behind him, but Kris urged her porters to trot up to beside her favorite Iteeche.

  “What do you want to bet me that the ferry leaves early?” Kris asked Ron.

  Four Iteeche Marines and a whole platoon of US Marines double timed it off, with one axe man in the lead and the crimson snake charmer pulling up the rear.

  “Nelly, take a note. Check the ranks of the Marines and Sailors for bodybuilders who know how to wield long poll axes. Also, put in an order to Wardhaven for a couple of cobras or rattlesnakes and someone who knows how to take care of them.”

  “You think you can get away with it?” Jack asked on net.

  “I’ll have to check with Ron and Roth, but I definitely want Nelly to remind me about this next time we’re together. Certainly I rate four, maybe even eight axes. Three, maybe four snake bowls. Nothing beats a try but a failure.”

  “Just remember, Kris,” Nelly said. “You told the merchants that asking permission was a much better idea than asking forgiveness.”

  “I remember, Nelly. Oh, do I remember,” Kris said as they hurried up to the space elevator station.

  Chapter 36

  The public address announced that a ferry would soon be arriving on track six. Shore hands on the track to Kris’s left readied it for an arrival.

  To Kris’s right, a ferry stood, its receiving hatches wide open. Its captain stood in the middle of the gangway, eyes downcast, avoiding any eye contact with Ron, Kris . . . or the glaring headsman, much less the coiled up and hissing snake with only thin glass between its fangs and his neck.

  No questions were asked. With a wave from Ron, the ferry skipper was dismissed to get his vessel moving post-haste.

  Ron led the way to an opulent VIP lounge where they could relax while nude Iteeche saw to their every need. At least they did for every wealthy Iteeche. Kris and Jack settled for a glass of water that tasted strongly of salt and other things Kris didn’t want to think too much about.

  Nelly, note to maintenance staff. Install our own filtration system for the water supply at our new, fancy palace.

  Already on it, Kris.

  Jack oversaw several Gunnies seeing to it that all his Marines were cared for. That caused a bit of a stir, but even Iteeche snobs can’t stand before a Gunny’s glare. He even had a private take a water bag to the bearers. They seemed startled by the attention, but definitely guzzled down the offered drink.

  With that covered, Kris turned to face Ron. “Someone doesn’t want me or us to meet the Emperor, at least not at the scheduled time.”

  “I have also come to that conclusion. I have been in touch with my Eminent Chooser and explained our morning. He is making arrangements. Assuming our ferry is not shot out of the sky, there will be no further surprises.”

  Kris heard a hard gulp from Jack at the “shot out of the sky” remark. She turned to see him shaking his head. “Maybe we ought to keep our options more fluid next time we land. Say flip a coin between the beanstalk or a lander.”

  “It is forbidden to use a lander in the Imperial Presence,” Ron said. “Any that come even close would be shot down. The cause for this edict is lost in the distant past, but one needs little imagination to see why.”

  Kris had Nelly call up a holographic map of where they were headed. The Imperial Precincts was a huge oval that dominated the center of a massive city. Inside its moated walls were gardens, even a small forest. Delicate spires shot up hundreds of stories while other structures were low buildings with roofs that looked ready to fly away.

  Radiating out from the walled precincts were broad, straight boulevards. Connecting them were some streets that twisted in gentle curves around parks and huge spiraling skyscrapers. Not everywhere was so spacious. Other parts of town were packed cheek to jowl, with a jumble of buildings only a few stories high serviced by much narrower roads and alleys.

  Jack, something tells me that they don’t have very strong zoning laws.

  Or they’ve done urban renewal here, but not there, Kris. Kind of like if you have a war here, but not there.

  “Once we have a base at the Red Coral Palace,” Jack said, “we’ll have to make sure to be more random about which door we leave from and what routes we travel by.” Today, however, it looked to be just a short zig from the space elevator to a main boulevard, then straight up it to the Imperial Palace. That did not look good to Kris.

  “Tell me, does your Eminent Chooser have any suggestion as to who has been playing with our schedule and what they might do once we’re down there?”

  Ron took a long drink of amber liquid from a tall beaker, then choose from among a bowl of squiggly things with four pinchers. He munched his choice slowly before admitting, “There are too many swimmers in the water to choose between for me to answer your question. Do you humans not have complicated circumstances when change is in the wind?”

  “Yes. We invented the word Byzantine for just such cases. Why do you think I’m saddled with several boat-loads of competing diplomats and merchants?” Kris admitted.

  As the ferry approached the landing, Kris reboarded her sedan chair. Ron, Kris and Jack were carried to the main exit and allowed the first and most honored place in line. There were other snakes and axe guys in evidence, but none tried to interfere with four platoons of Marines, US or Iteeche.

  The ferry came to a smooth stop, the hatches swung open and Kris was carried down the gangway, but only to a waiting car. Once again, she dismounted, now under the watchful eye of an additional battalion of armed Iteeche in magenta and cream uniforms. Their commanders bowed low, likely to Ron and ushered them a six-door, eight-wheeled midnight black vehicle that could easily have passed for a stretched limo anywhere in human space.

  Megan and Major Puller joined them to share the forward jump seats w
ith an Imperial Marine and an advisor in green and white.

  Around the limo were a fleet of trucks, all eight-wheeled, many of them with weapons bulging from their tops. Some were crimson, others red. Quite a few were magenta and cream. Others looked a bit long on the tooth and in need of painting. It was into one of those that Kris’s porters and sedan chairs were loaded. Gunny sent a fire team to keep a lookout on them.

  The other U.S. Marines quickly filled up all the empty truck rigs. In a few cases, they got scrunched in with Iteeche Marines or Roth’s magenta and cream household guards.

  In hardly a minute, the sidewalk and car park was empty of uniformed personnel.

  “With your permission, oh Wisely Chosen One,” the Iteeche Marine seated across from Ron said. With a nod from Ron, the motorcade was off.

  They wound their way along a wide street, that, for no apparent reason, twisted and turned through a park like area. There was much less traffic than Kris would have expected on Wardhaven, and much of what there was were small two or three wheeled electric scooters. All had a driver, usually naked, and one or two passengers in flowing robes.

  There were larger vehicles, many with an axe or a snake for a hood ornament. The central lanes were reserved for them.