Kris Longknife

by Mike Shepherd

  “Whoever commanded here was an idiot. He didn’t train his gunners. He didn’t train his helmsmen. He didn’t train his captains. I know I threw a monkey wrench into our formation by slapping Battle Plan Nelson on us, but at least we had drilled. You saw what happened to his ships when he tried to do anything but maneuver in the standard formation.”

  “If they had not been under the guns of their enemy, such clowning around would have been funny,” Admiral Coth said. “By the way, the idiot who commanded here was fourth chosen son of the Pasha of the Golden Flying Fish Satrap, Karl’sum’Ton’sum’Go qu Chap’sum’We, Admiral of the First Order of Steel.”

  “A Chap’sum’We?” Kris echoed

  “The clans usually have people on both sides of a rebellion. This side of the family lost in the last dynastic change a thousand years ago. I think they want to end up on top this time and have the other wing of the family beholden to them.”

  “So, clans look after themselves. Who looks out for the average worker?”

  “Who would look out for a mere worker,” Coth said, bitterly. “I don’t believe we have ever seen an admiral, much less and Imperial Admiral of the First Order of Steel concerned about the lower decks. Certainly not one who would end a fight when they had it in their power to completely annihilate their enemy.”

  “I hope that some of these ships and their crews will fight for us, Coth. However, it appears that some of them are trying to get away.”

  “Yes, I noticed that.”

  “Would you kindly take the center and rearguard wings and pursue their rearguard wing? Feel free to pick up any strays that you run across. I have given them fifteen minutes to cut their power and smash their main weapons buses. If they don’t, shoot them down.”

  “All of them?”

  Kris frowned. “I gave them fifteen minutes in the hope that any admiral who tried to keep running could be persuaded to take a walk out an airlock, either voluntarily, or with a bit of help. If it appears that some crew has finally gained control of their ship, hold your fire. However, fifteen minutes from now, you decide who dies and who doesn’t.”

  “Knowing the tender heart you human female mothers have, I will fire at a few flagships to get your point across, only after your time has expired and they are still running. I think we can persuade most of the ships left after that to surrender. Do you really think you can, what do you say, rope them and brand them?”

  “You have been watching some western videos, Coth.”

  “They are interesting stories about you humans.”

  Kris laughed. “Don’t think that everything you see on video is true. Some people will say anything to sell a story. Now, about capturing that fleet and getting them to join our ranks. We may need to ship some captains with clan connections back to their clans. We may need to find other jobs for some senior officers, but think of all the promotions we can give to your junior officers. Think of how many admiralty slots this will open up for your captains.”

  “You make this very appealing, Admiral Longknife. Very appealing. Now, I have orders and a passel of doggies to wrangle up.”

  “Thank you,” Kris said, and a cheerful Coth disappeared from the screen.

  “Watching westerns?” Jack muttered.

  “The poison from the human race just keeps seeping deeper and deeper into their blood stream,” Megan said, grinning.

  Kris had to agree, but she didn’t have time for that. “Comm, get me Commanders of the top, bottom and vanguard wings.

  A moment later, a human and two Iteeche faces appeared on screen.

  “Admiral Kitano, do you have good enough sensor suites on your ships to identify if a rebel battlecruiser has emptied its capacitors and smashed its weapons bus?”

  “Every one of our ships can do that, Admiral.”

  “Good. Under your command, the vanguard and lower wings, minus the First Human Flotilla, will clean up the scattered survivors from the rebel top, center, bottom, and vanguard wings. I’ve got Admiral Coth, with the rearguard and center wings, chasing the rebel rearguard. They’re the most organized force the rebels have left in the system.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” Admiral Kitano said.

  Kris turned to the commander of the top wing. “I will add the First Human Flotilla to your command. You will be my main force to escort the attack transports into orbit over Artiecca. Are there any questions?”

  There were none. “Then, lady and gentlemen, let us occupy this system as quickly and as mercifully as possible.”

  53

  It’s one thing to say you intend to occupy a system quickly. It was an entirely different process to actually do it.

  Between Admirals Coth and Kitano, Kris ended up the proud owner of 8,103 new battlecruisers carrying either twenty or fourteen 24-inch lasers. Each ship brought her a captain to deal with as well as a command structure above them that yielded her 347 admirals of various orders, most with clan connections.

  Strangely, 6 battlecruisers managed to slip the net by taking off at three gees for the farthest jump point. Since they were headed off on a tangent from the rest of the rebel fleet, it was easier to let them go than chase them.

  Kris hoped that would not come back to bite her on the ass.

  The admirals were collected on Admiral Coth’s flagship. The eight thousand plus captains were brought aboard whatever loyalist battlecruiser they surrendered to. Prize crews from the Iteeche ships under Coth’s command went over, with at least a Marine platoon, and took the ships under their control.

  Kris got a call from Coth before the first ship was boarded.

  “My Admiral, I need an order from you immediately.”

  Kris couldn’t help but grin at that. “Tell me the order you need from me and I will give it.”

  “Let me tell you of the two orders you may give and you decide between them. Are you humans familiar with the concept of prize money for captured ships?”

  Kris frowned for a moment, then remembered something she found rather arcane when she was reading about naval warfare in the time of sail. “Yes, I believe so.”

  “It is common for a captain, when another ship surrenders to them, to offer the ship to the Emperor, or central rebel assembly, for purchase. The captain, of course receives the larger sum, maybe half of the entire value. He will pay twenty percent of his prize money to his admirals, with the admiral in your position getting the lion’s share of that tithe. The officers get a portion; however, the sailors get a much smaller portion that may well be enough to allow them to buy a small business or apprenticeship when they are discharged.”

  “I’m not quite sure where you are going with this,” Kris said.

  “You have given four of your wings orders to pursue and capture a large fortune. Many of our ships will take multiple ships. It is possible that an eager beaver might put a prize crew aboard four or five ships.”

  Kris began to see a problem here. “Have there ever been fights between ships, or between boarding parties?” Kris asked.

  “That is not something that we like to talk about, but yes, it has happened.”

  “And I have taken one wing totally out of the gold rush, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, My Admiral.”

  “So, tell me what my two orders might be.”

  “You can allow any ship that captures another to take the prize money entirely for that ship. Alternately, you may claim all the ships for yourself and assure every officer and crewman that you will apportion out the total of the ships in accordance with the traditional distribution, and promise each man an equal share in all the ships taken.”

  “I definitely think that second option is my order, Admiral. Transmit that order to all the fleet, including the wings that I have sailing away from the treasure chest that every officer and sailor will receive a portion, distributed in the traditional way, for all the ships taken today.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral. Very good,” and a very happy Iteeche killed the circuit.

  “Cle
arly, we’re going to have some very happy officers and sailors,” Jack said, grinning.

  “I wonder what my take will be,” Kris muttered.

  “And how you might get the money out of the Iteeche Empire,” Megan said with an even bigger grin.

  “Maybe you could take your money in battlecruisers and ship them to Alwa,” Admiral Tosan, Kris’s chief of staff offered. “No doubt Admiral Santiago and Granny Rita would be grateful for the extra firepower.”

  “Not a bad idea, Admiral,” Kris said. “Let’s see. If I get half of twenty percent of fifty percent, what would that give me, Nelly?”

  “Four hundred and five point four-five battlecruisers, Kris. I would not want to serve on that point four-five battlecruiser,” Nelly said, dryly.

  “No doubt, that ship might have a tough time keeping out space vacuum,” Jack agreed.

  “And how could one and a half reactors keep the plasma contained?” Megan added.

  “Enough with the dreaming about our future wealth,” Kris said. “I suspect taking this planet will be worth a whole lot more than all those ships.”

  “Do we get prize money for planets?” Megan asked.

  “It will get interesting,” Jack agreed.

  “Comm, send to the Planetary Overlord, Artiecca 4 and all other senior political leaders in this system: ‘From Grand Admiral, Her Royal Highness, Kris Longknife, Imperial Admiral of the First Order of Steel, Commander of the Imperial Combined Fleets and Victorious Admiral over the defeated fleet guarding your system, Greetings. I require you to submit to the proper and fitting worship of your Emperor. Those of you of the highest position will be sent to the Emperor to make your most sincere and complete apologies. Those of you who fill middle clan ranks will be dispatched to your clan households on the Imperial Capital where you will receive reassignments befitting your rank and skills. I require that the planet and all associate production facilities in this system be handed over to me undamaged. No working personnel are to be harmed. I will give you one of your days to submit or I will begin the reduction of your planet by any means I choose.’ Comm, attach the video taken in the bunker of the Planetary Overlord on Zargoth. Anyone have any other suggestions?”

  Kris was greeted with only shaking heads. “Send.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral. It’s sent. I’m broadcasting this on all available circuits and nets I have identified. I’m pretty sure everyone down there will have a pretty good idea about this message before the day is out.”

  “Very good. Now, let’s set a course that will get us in orbit around Artiecca 4.”

  Slowing down to catch the planet turned out to be a bit more difficult than Kris would have liked. The attack transports had done nothing to close the enemy fleet. They managed to catch the planet by only going to 2.0 gees. The battlecruisers, during the battle, were much more out of position and hit 3.0 gees before they fell back to two.

  Still, Kris’s fleet barely managed to get caught into a high orbit. It took several revolutions before they managed to lower their orbit and sync with that of the planet below.

  They were just coming up on the largest station and space elevator serving the system’s capital when Kris got a response from the Planetary Overlord.

  It was not to her liking.

  54

  “Know you, human female who styles herself as some sort of Navy officer, you are not wanted here,” said a haughty looking Iteeche in an iridescent robe of every color of the rainbow. “This planet will never surrender. If you land forces here, you will confront a wasteland. All the means of production have been mined. We have rigged explosives to everything essential for civilized life: power, water, sewer, and transportation. If you land, you will face a starving people who will have no source of food, water, or health care, but you.”

  Somehow, the Iteeche Overlord managed to snort. “We know that you do not have a warrior's heart. You are weak. You would never want to place fifty billion dead Iteeche on the blackened soul that you humans claim to have. Be gone. There is nothing here for you.”

  The message terminated.

  “Well, it seems that we will have ourselves a bit of a battle,” Kris said.

  “I wonder if the space stations are rigged to explode?” Jack asked.

  “These space stations are a major investment,” Nelly said. “Destroying them, and sending their space elevators crashing to the ground would not only be deadly, but replacing them would likely kill this system. What that overlord is proposing would literally turn a thriving planet back to the stone age.”

  “And they’d be doing it to themselves,” Kris muttered.

  “Comm, get me Admiral Coth on the hook.”

  A moment later, a very happy Iteeche was filling half of Kris’s forward screen.”

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Kris asked.

  “Immensely,” the admiral answered. “We have only had to shoot up two ships so far. I think your Admiral Kitano has only destroyed one. You have made all of us wealthy men. Tell, me, Admiral, have you ever thought of establishing your own clan? I think a very large number of admirals and captains under your command would be glad to name you clan chieftain. Chieftain of the Longknife Clan. It has a nice sound to it, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure there are few clan leaders that would be happy to see a human raised up to be their equal.”

  “My Admiral, you now command a force of over twelve thousand battlecruisers. Twelve thousand that fight like fifty-thousand. There is no force that can stand against you!”

  “While you are probably right that no force of battlecruisers can stand up to us, I fear that the power of conservative tradition and clan prerogatives would be a tough nut to crack.”

  “If you capture Artiecca and a few more planets like it, you will have a power base to equal or exceed all the clans. Just think about that.”

  “About capturing this planet. I have a problem. Did you get the message from this Planetary Overlord?”

  “Yes, the blowhard. Does he really think the people under him would cut their own throats? Their throats and those of their familiars and chosen? Ha! He does not know what he is talking about.”

  “However, we must encourage people to step away from him. In order to do that, I need something to demonstrate my strength. Tell me, how do you render a space station uninhabitable? Is there some valve that can be opened that will let all the air out of the station?”

  “No. Why would anyone install such a thing?”

  “There are always the docking locks that open for ships,” Megan piped up.

  “Yes, but those are totally controlled,” Coth said.

  “By whom?” Kris asked.

  “The Port Captain’s office.”

  “And how does he order the doors to open? Is it done manually or are they operated by computer net?” asked Kris, again probing.

  “Someone in the Port Captain’s office flips a switch and the doors slide open.”

  “Are there any safeguards?”

  “You are full of questions, My Admiral.”

  “I don’t want eager Marines perforating my space station. If I’m going to have to kill a lot of Iteeche, I’d rather they were all rebels without a lot of loyalists thrown in.”

  “I like your attitude. Now let me check.”

  For a long minute, the sound went down and Admiral Coth spoke to several people on and off screen. When the sound came back up, Coth was barking a laugh.

  “Yes, My Imaginative Admiral, the doors are opened remotely. There are not manual controls at the pier. There is no override if the hatches do not seal. A call to the Port Captain’s Office is necessary to close it up again. I think we Iteeche reserve too much to those higher up the chain of rank. No doubt, you are going to use this to bite them on the ass.”

  “I think we can do that,” Kris said, then turned away from the screen, “Megan, do I have a job for you.”

  55

  Lieutenant Commander Megan Longknife knew she had nothing to w
orry about. Kris Longknife herself had told her so. So why was she holding her breath?

  For about the thousandth time since the small launch left the Princess Royal, Megan forced herself to breathe.

  Of course, she might be dead any moment. Certainly, whether she breathed or not would not stop a laser if the search radar on the station suddenly started working.

  It wasn’t supposed to. Start working, that is. She’d been assured it wouldn’t work for at least for the next fifteen minutes.

  One of the battlecruisers had been hitting all four of the station’s search radars with a high-powered pulse of radio energy every hour or so since around noon the ship’s time. Each time they hit it with a pulse, the radars went down. It took exactly thirty minutes to bring the search radar back on line. The first time they took it down, it took thirty minutes to get it back on line, and Iteeche radar crews had gotten neither faster nor slower. Thirty minutes each time, to the second.

  Megan, and thirty Marines were crammed into a launch with a boson’s mate conning it. A certain Captain Quinn Sung, who didn’t seem to know what was good for her, sat in the left-hand seat, monitoring the electronic sensors and countermeasures. Megan had to go on this mission; the captain didn’t.

  Megan had grown up knowing there was a Longknife legend, knowing she was part of it whether she liked it or not. She could have stayed on Santa Maria where Longknifes did research that usually produced dry holes, but no, she had to not only come back to Wardhaven, but get herself attached to a certain Kris Longknife.

  Now she was into the Longknife legend up to her neck. Which might be parted from her head very soon. What was it she’d heard Kris say? Longknifes do what they have to do.

  Damn, why did I have to get the brain I’ve got? With a normal brain, there would be nothing I could do. But I’ve got this one.

  Megan scowled at the captain. She grinned back like she had no good sense. What was it about people when they got around Longknifes? Suddenly they’re volunteering.