Kris Longknife

by Mike Shepherd

  The Iteeche around her let her question drop like a hot potato.

  They finished their meal. Megan looked at the fifty-three Iteeche around her as well as herself, Quinn and a squad of Marines and turned the problem of getting them all to the chosen site over to Lily.

  A moment later, the mobile command center stretched its eight tires out and slurped up the roadster. All that Smart MetalTM converted itself into a bus for Megan and the Iteeche. The cook wagon still kept its kitchen, but added enough room for the Marine rifle squad to ride.

  Megan stood aside as the Iteeche boarded the bus. Each of the helpers carried a large toolbox. Each of the technicians carried a much smaller case. The pairs sat side by side on either aisle of the bus. Megan waited for her Marines to mount up, before turning to the bus.

  The bullet knocked her flat on her face. The second round bounced off her helmet.

  35

  Megan rolled right. The next round hit the sliding walkway too close to her nose. She kept rolling, then stopped. The fourth bullet hit where she would have rolled to.

  The Navy officer got her legs under her and bolted for the other side of the bus.

  Whoever was shooting at her was good. The next round hit her right in the butt and sent her sprawling again. She hit the deck and started rolling.

  There was no sixth shot. The Marines had been in their own transport. With a sergeant yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” the Marine sharpshooters poured out of their ride and began searching for the assassin.

  It took them more time than usual to identify the shooter’s position. There were a lot of roofs and windows around them. One finally shouted, “I’ve got him.”

  The four Marines beside her turned, slaved their rifles to her fire computer, and got the same sight picture she had. As one, they locked in on the assumed position and waited for the next muzzle flash.

  The shot that knocked Megan on her ass was the last thing that Iteeche would ever do.

  It took Megan a moment to realize she could quit rolling.

  For an unbelievable moment, there was total silence. Then, the cook wagon driver broke it by saying calmly on net, “Shots fired. Officer down.”

  “Officer is fine,” Megan snapped back on net.

  However, the alarm had gone out. The net quickly filled with responses.

  “Medical reaction team headed down in five minutes.”

  “Full Marine security team headed down in five minutes.”

  “Crime site security and forensic team headed down in ten minutes.”

  “Belay the Medical team. My spider silk body armor did its job, okay, folks?” Megan insisted on net.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” was in Admiral Longknife’s mothering voice. Had she been following Megan on net?

  “I was hit in the back and butt. I’ll have Captain Sung look me over, but I think the armor did its job. I can still feel the way it hardened around the bullet strike to spread the energy.”

  “Megan, I want a visual validation of your claim,” said Kris.

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” she said, then howled, “Quinn!”

  “I’m coming if you’ll have Lily unlock this box.”

  Megan took her first serious look at the bus rather than seeing it as something to get behind. At the first shot fired, while Megan was scampering for her life, Lily had turned the bus into an armored box. Windows and doors had been transformed into a solid gray wall.

  “Give us the bus back, Lily,” Megan drawled.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lily answered, as the block for Smart MetalTM sprouted wheels and windows again. Quinn tumbled inside from the door that was suddenly created, and headed for Megan.

  “Could you use a hand up?” the captain said.

  “Please,” the commander answered.

  Once Megan was back on her feet, Quinn glanced around. “You want to drop your ship suit right here in front of God and every damn Iteeche?”

  “I’ve adjusted the cook wagon to allow for some privacy,” Lily informed them.

  “Good,” Megan said and began limping for the much-modified cook wagon.

  “Ma’am,” the eager Marine sergeant said, “do you want us to secure the shooter’s site?”

  “I don’t think we’ve got the resources, nor any idea how to get from here to wherever there is. Lily, can you raise the governor for voice?”

  “I have him on the line. Wait one while he’s handed the walkie-talkie.”

  “Yes, who is this and why are you calling me on this private line?”

  “Governor, this is Lieutenant Commander Megan Longknife of the U.S. Navy. I’ve been shot at in your lovely town and I require police to secure the shooter’s site.”

  “Are you being shot at now?” he demanded.

  “Nope. The shooter is dead, a frequent result of trying to kill a Longknife. Fleet investigation and forensic teams are on the way down here. You will likely need to have them met at the space port and assisted in arriving here at the crime scene. Please do not have your police disturb that crime scene, I’d like to have our people go over it for trace elements.”

  “Of course. Of course,” the governor sputtered. “Police are on their way,” and the governor rang off.

  “Megan,” Lily said, “while you were talking, I chipped off some scout nanos. I have located the dead sniper. If you want, we can dispatch a fire team of Marines to secure the site.”

  Megan tried to ignore the throbbing that was starting in her back. Yes, the armor was good, but those were big honking Iteeche rounds that had been playing knick knack on her back.

  “Lily, show me the scene,” she said, then raised her voice, “Sak, I need some help.”

  Immediately, a holograph of the room with the dead sniper appeared in front of Megan. The inventory, in order, were one honking big Iteeche rifle, one table to support same, and one dead Iteeche, hopefully the sniper, and very likely from the way the body was sprawled over the weapon.

  “Sak, can you loan my Marines one or two people to help my Marines make it up to that room?”

  “My assistant and another of the men who met you when you arrived would be perfect to assure that your men see what they need to see.”

  “Sergeant? Two of your best,” Megan called.

  In a moment, the four men, two Iteeche senior techs, and sober-looking Marine corporal, and an eager private first class, had their orders, had been assigned a guide by Lily, and were jogging toward one of those concrete and glass monsters to Megan’s right.

  Now it was time for Megan to see after herself.

  Captain Sung herded a reluctant Lieutenant Commander Longknife up the stairs into a much-expanded and modified vehicle. In a matter of minutes, it had been transformed from a cook wagon to a Marine transport, and now into a change room with medical possibilities. They were joined by a Marine with a large bag marked with a red cross.

  “Okay, are you going to take that ship suit off,” Quinn ordered, “or do I?”

  “I’m doing it. I’m doing it,” Megan snapped back and began unzipping her full body suit. The blue ship suit was a comfortable blend of cotton and wool, with a few synthetics thrown in to make it fire retardant, comfortable, and keep it looking good after two days of hard damage control.

  Two days of sitting in a high gee station in one would usually leave both the suit and the wearer rather bedraggled, if not constipated.

  Megan pulled her arms from the suit and let it fall down to her thighs. The Marine medic joined Quinn in examining Megan’s back and butt. With the upgraded spider silk armor hardened around the hits, it was impossible to strip out of the armored body suit.

  The Navy officer studied the blank bulkhead in front of her while fingers began to feel around her back. Megan hoped they were the medic’s; he was kind of cute.

  “The armor did its job,” Quinn announced on net. “There are two holes in her shipsuit, but the spider silk is undistorted. The second layer expanded and hardened as advertised and is slowly returning to its liqu
id state. Megan, could you take off the spider silks?”

  “I’d rather not.” Megan wouldn’t mind getting naked in front of the cute Marine. Her problem was getting back into this armor again.

  Now someone was pulling on the spider silk somewhere close to the bullet strike.

  “This is Corporal Duniquin, trained battlefield life saver. I’ve lifted the spider silks as much as they will allow. I don’t see any bruising on the lieutenant’s body.”

  He could have at least said “delectable body.” Is there no poetry left in this world?’

  However, Megan had been cleared for duty, so the medic left, and she pulled her ship suit back on. In a moment, she rejoined a worried Sak and several of his senior techs or craftsman.

  “Are you all right?” Sak asked.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” Megan said, to calm the big fellows. “We humans have tough skin.”

  “Tough skin my eyes,” one tech said. “It was magic. The blackest of magic,” and he spat on the road. He did, however, turn away from Megan to do it.

  There was a rumble from the other Iteeche, whether in support of him or Megan, it was hard to tell.

  “I’m wearing body armor,” Megan said. “I’m a Longknife. People try to kill us. We piss them off by surviving.”

  That got a laugh, weak, but a laugh.

  Megan was of half a mind to pull out the edge of the spider silk so they could see it, but her silks now ran all the way up her neck to where Lilly circled it like a bejeweled torc. Also, her personal armor had just saved her life, and Kris regularly benefitted from it, too. The fewer Iteeche who knew about spider silk under armor, the better.

  “Actually, we wear body armor that protects us. I’ve got two holes in my ship suit, including one right on my behind, but no holes in me. It’s not magic, just a technology we have,” Megan watched the Iteeche as she spoke. She was no expert on reading Iteeche body language, but she strongly suspected that her words were meeting a brick wall.

  It was no easy thing for an Iteeche to believe a human might be better at something than they. Yes, at the top, this dismal fact was sinking in, but down at the bottom of the social pyramid, the common people were still being fed a pabulum that, if it didn’t encourage hate for the two eyes, it certainly fostered superiority over them.

  “This is Corporal Cortez. We’ve found the room,” came on net. “One body with four rounds in it. One rifle. We’re securing the scene.”

  “Very good, Corporal,” Megan answered. “The local police are on the way, as well as a team from the Princess Royal. Let me know if there is any difficulty in working with the locals.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  “Megan, how about I head up there?” Captain Quinn said. “A Navy captain who reports to Admiral Longknife might get a bit more respect.”

  She’d also likely be more politically astute than a Marine corporal in a situation that was rich in political land mines.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” came on net from Grand Admiral Kris Longknife.

  “I can detach another pair of Marine rifles, ma’am,” Megan said.

  “Very good. Hold your position until reinforced,” Kris ordered. “I know we want to fix this mess as soon as possible, but security is paramount now that we know you’re in a shooting gallery. By the way, Megan, I’ve got a call out to all the city governors, both from Ron and through the Planetary Overlord. Some of them are confessing that they might have one or two available circuit boards if we need them. Why don’t you see what you can do, and I’ll see what I can do. Maybe we can have the entire thing up soon.”

  “Thank you, Admiral. I figured there might be more give when a Longknife pushed rather than when a fellow governor begged.”

  “Yeah. We’ve got to do something to get these people to solve their own problems. I know it wouldn’t take a lot of Smart Metal to fix this, but I need all the Smart Metal I’ve got for armor. We’re headed for a fight and every kilogram may count.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Megan knew that when push came to shove, and the devil was demanding payment, her cook wagon and bus would likely be somewhere out on the Princess Royal's hull trying to stop a laser from burning through. That was just what you did with Smart MetalTM. And while you could send out a truck and bring it back, if you started donating armor to some civilian need, there was no telling where that would end.

  Megan watched as Quinn, with two Marines and a tech guide, headed toward the ugly block of gray concrete and dull, unwashed glass. She looked around at the high rises around her and realized, she must be a perfect target.

  “Sak, let’s get back on the bus. We can talk until my security detail can be expanded.”

  The senior tech glanced around, too. He seemed to hunch his shoulders as he agreed. The two of them boarded the bus. From the outside, it looked like a gray box on wheels. Inside, however, there were windows and decent stools for the Iteeche craftsmen and their helpers.

  “Is everything okay?” someone asked from the middle of the bus.

  “Everything is fine,” Megan answered. “We will be waiting here a while. Somebody took a potshot at me. You will notice that I’m alive and talking. I can’t say the same for the very dead shooter. Now, I have orders to stay here until a larger security team can arrive and another team can get here to look at the crime scene. Longknifes like to know who’s shooting at us. We especially like to find the folks that gave the order. So, while we’re waiting, do you have any questions?”

  “Is it true that you humans murdered the Planetary Overload by magic?”

  “I was personally there,” Megan said, “and I can assure you that there was no magic in use.”

  The response showed a serious lack of belief.

  “Lily, give me a large monitor up here in the front of the bus and get a few scouts wandering around the bus.”

  A moment later, the front windows turned into a huge monitor, a second later, it split into six different screens. Each showed rough boots and legs.

  “Okay, so whose boots do we have here?” Megan said.

  “Mine,” came from one old grizzled Iteeche.

  “You see anything around you that could take those pictures?”

  Quickly, a half dozen large Iteeche were peering at the deck or looking under the seats.

  “I don’t see nothing,” came from several.

  “Well, now your ugly mugs are on the screen,” Sak said, as he barked a laugh.

  Heads popped up, but Lily had wisely frozen that transmission.

  “Col! You could see us, but I didn’t see nothin’.”

  Another screen now showed the inside of a tool box.

  “By the dark depths of chaos,” one youngster exclaimed. “That’s the wrench my old man passed to me.”

  He lifted up the tool box and rested it on the seat in front of him while he unlocked it. When he opened the lid, light poured into the box. For a second the view turned to white, then it returned to just a bit lighter than it had been when the box was closed.

  “How you doin’ that?” came from several voices.

  “We are able to make scouts with cameras that are tiny. Much tinier than one of your whiskers,” Megan said. “They are so small that they can slip through the cracks into a tool box. Slip through a sealed door. Find an Overlord who has buried himself deep underground and kill him. I did just that a few days ago.”

  “You killed them all,” was but a whisper.

  “I was the fist on Admiral Longknife’s arm, but yes, I was there when those rebels died so that you wouldn’t.”

  The Iteeche craftsmen and helpers sat back in their stools. They looked at Megan with a blend of respect and awe, if she was reading their gill slits right. They whispered among themselves. Most of it boiled down to them believing what they hadn’t believed before.

  They waited for the next thing to happen.

  36

  Megan was not surprised when four sonic booms shook the bus. She’d figured on maybe a compa
ny or two. When her count of double booms went past twelve, even she began to get edgy. When it finished at twenty-four, she figured she’d drawn the attention of some really big elephants.

  That was never a good thing for a junior field grade officer. Particularly for a fresh Longknife lieutenant commander.

  To give herself some warning, she tapped into the overhead imagery. Each lander seemed to be disgorging two or three armored vehicles. The first six formed up, then, with lights flashing and sirens blaring, they headed out of the airport and down the most direct street route to exactly where she sat.

  Fifteen minutes after they landed, a company of Marines were forming a perimeter well away from her bus, and a squad had headed up to reinforce the crime scene team.

  So far, nothing had been heard from the local constabulary.

  “Shouldn’t we have some police here by now?” Megan asked Sak.

  “We rarely see the crushers in our neighborhood,” he answered.

  “And we’re happy for every second we don’t,” one of the old craftsmen said, darkly.

  “What happens when you do see them?” Megan asked.

  “Nothing good,” Sak said, and left it at that.

  The full extent of Megan’s elephant infestation became clear when an eight-wheeled armored infantry fighting vehicle rolled up the street that led to her section of the road. It had a red flag with three white stars painted on its side.

  “Oh, God, I’ve drawn Lieutenant General Montoya himself,” she breathed. Or prayed. Both were needed.

  “Sak, you’re with me,” she said, as she opened the bus’s door and marched to meet Kris Longknife’s security chief, Marine commander, oh, and husband who was the father of her children.

  He also had, by royal decree, the authority to lock any Longknife of blood up in her cabin if he considered her in danger over her head.

  “Sir,” Megan said, saluting, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  He returned her salute. “Someone has chosen to make this a major test of our ability to keep a planet running. It seemed well worth some flag officer attention, don’t you think? Oh, and Lieutenant Commander, why aren’t you in full space armor?”