And got down to business.
“I assume you recall the matter of the pirate ship we brought in under prize crew last time we visited?” brought a chuckle and “I’ve done little else but deal with it since last you were here. Do you have any idea how old the admiralty rules of prize are? They’ve never been applied to space.”
“I believe they were applied a bit ago. By a court on Chance if my memory is right.”
“Yes, yes, I know about that. My clerk had the devil’s own time looking up that case. Chance is not the center of the law. Or center of anything. Their case law hardly sets precedent. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that to you. I’m just telling you what the lawyers of a half a dozen involved parties are telling me.” And he proceeded to exhaust a quarter hour telling her all the things that she did not want to hear.
“So when do you think this will be settled?” she finally got in edgewise.
“I have no idea, though a trial balloon is being floated about. What with so many interested parties, maybe the best thing would be to sell the ship and distribute even portions from that sale to all the parties,” he said with a brilliant smile.
For the next ten minutes he expounded about the splendor of this idea. One that, if Kris was right about the price of ships and the cost of lawyers, would probably yield enough to pay off all the lawyers’ bills and not much more.
Kris spent the time reviewing her options and modifying her action plans. The Feathered Serpent must not present its papers to the port master of High Cuzco. Between Abby and Drago, they ought to be able to reflag that ship over the next day or so.
The papers needn’t be perfect, just good enough to get the ship a load of fuel and on course for Wardhaven territory.
Colonel Cortez was another problem. She’d planned to turn him and his legal problem over to the fine fathers of Cuzco. When Morley finally ran down, she tentatively asked his advice.
“Oh, you crossed swords with a filibusterer. And lived to sit here in such a lovely dress and tell me about it. You must have some brilliant Marines to handle your dirty work for you, Your Highness. Absolutely brilliant.”
Kris saw no reason to claim that she’d gotten her own lovely hands dirty. Abby had said many bad words as she’d spent much of the trip back restoring what she called Kris’s “princess skin.”
“Your Highness, I’ve heard about these things. Never drawn up a contract for such an expedition, though I must say a contract to hold up among thieves would be truly a work of art.”
Kris was willing to bet money, good Wardhaven dollars, that the original boilerplate contract for this kind of thing had been done by Morley Preston, Esquire, himself.
Kris cut through the jungle of verbiage with a simple question. “Do you think the ground leader of such an expedition could get a fair trial here on Cuzco?”
The man didn’t even bat an eye. “Oh my, of course, Your Highness. He would get the fairest of trials. I’d even take him on pro bono, assuming he agreed to sign a contract to let us agent him once we’ve got him off with parole and community service. I suspect many people would pay well for his advice on what to do . . . and not do in a matter like that. The successful ones say so little. He’d be quite a moneymaking profit center.”
Kris stood. Dinner was over. Indeed, if she didn’t get this snake out of her sight, her dinner was likely to end up all over the front of him . . . a not-unpleasant thought at the moment.
Morley stood. “But I was hoping that you and I might enjoy the evening. You’ve been so long aboard ship, and I understand that as captain, you can’t, you know, enjoy some of the more pleasant aspects of adult life.”
Kris was examining just how she’d break two arms and a leg. But she’d spotted Jack in civvies holding down a table with a woman Marine. Gunny stood only a second after Kris did.
The good guys had not let her out of their sight. And knowing them, they’d probably feel obliged to help clean up her mess. No, she’d keep her dinner down . . . and put this maggot behind her. NELLY, MAKE A NOTE. I WILL NEVER DO BUSINESS WITH ANY FIRM INVOLVING MORLEY PRESTON AGAIN.
NOTE TAKEN. I AM ADVISING NUU ENTERPRISES OF YOUR DECISION.
Turning her back on the lawyer, she marched for the door. Quickly, her security detail formed on her. Only when she was out of the restaurant, and far from the air sullied by that man, did she slow down.
Jack came up on one side of her, Gunny the other. She took both their arms. “I am so glad to see you two.”
“That bad,” Gunny said.
“I am so glad I’m sharing my life with a bunch of heart-breakers and hard cases the likes of you,” she said. She would have loved to rest her head on Jack’s shoulder, but there was a limit to what an officer could do, even away from the ship. Even when she was dressed up for a night on the town and so was he.
There was a lot to hate about what she did. The terror. The blood. The killing. The dying.
But there was a lot to like about it, too. Sometimes she got to stop some of the really bad stuff from happening, like Panda. And she got to do it with the likes of men and women like those around her.
She’d put up with a lot of long cruises for that.
46
Back at the Wasp, there was no rest for the wicked. Late as it was, Kris roused her staff and went immediately to work.
Abby showed up in a wrap and fuzzy slippers. “Cara likes them,” was all she said. Colonel Cortez was halfway through a yawn when he caught sight of Kris’s outfit. It is possible for a grown man’s eyes to bug out.
“We’ve got problems, ladies and gentlemen,” Kris said by way of preamble, “and several of them need action now.” She filled them in on the legal mess revolving around their prize money.
Captain Drago muttered a curse when Kris finished.
“Can’t sell the Feathered Serpent here,” Penny said.
“My opinion exactly,” Kris said. “We have to refuel her here, but we need to get her to United space ASAP.”
“I’ll start forging her new papers,” Abby said. “If they only have to stand up to a couple of port calls, that shouldn’t be too big a problem. Once they drop the reps off at Pitts Hope, the crew can take the Serpent to Chance, get her declared forfeit, and we’ll have an ironbound set of papers for her.”
“Now there’s the problem of Birridas,” Kris said.
“Birridas?” Professor mFumbo echoed. He’d just come in. Dressed in a red smoker’s jacket, complete with a never-lit pipe, he looked quite debonair. And suddenly very worried. “Your Highness, Birridas is the shortest way to the Ferret’s Head nebula. I do remind you that you promised that research would be the next priority. And would be for at least two full months.”
“Yes, Professor, and I will not renege,” Kris said. “But there’s a problem on Birridas.” Kris quickly filled them in.
“I see,” Professor mFumbo said. “I agree on the detour. It may add a few days to our run, but what must be must be.” Around the table, that seemed to represent a universal consensus.
“Excuse me,” Kris said, “but you misunderstand me. We are going to Birridas.”
The room exploded into dead silence.
“Kris, are you crazy?” Jack asked.
“No more than usual,” Kris said.
“Yes, this is more than usual,” Jack snapped. “Kris, this man has been trying to kill you since, well, forever. He probably paid the kidnappers of your brother Eddy.”
“I know,” Kris said, with a shiver.
“Kris, those were his battleships at Wardhaven,” Penny whispered softly.
“I know,” Kris repeated.
“And besides, Kris,” Jack continued, talking slowly as to a stubborn child, “if Henry Smythe-Peterwald XII does finally get himself killed, we don’t want a Longknife within fifty light-years. You do not want to go to Birridas.”
“I don’t,” Kris said, “but answer me this. Where do you think Prometheus’s kid and the Xanadu nuts are headed?”
/> “Most likely Birridas,” Jack agreed. “I know you’d love to pull out a miracle for that poor man, but Kris, you got to make tracks away from this one.”
“I can’t, Jack, because my fingerprints are already all over the future death of Henry Peterwald, twelfth of that name.”
That brought blank stares from the table. All but one. Penny’s eyes lit up. “Oh . . . I see.”
“You tell them, Penny.”
All eyes were on her. She spoke slowly. “Whether one of the kids actually kills Mr. Peterwald, or not, doesn’t matter. They’re bound to be swept up in the dragnet before his body is cold. That creates a line back to Xanadu, and Kris has been on Xanadu twice in the last month.”
There was a long pause when Penny finished. As the mess they were in dawned around the table, heads began to shake slowly. “We are so screwed,” Captain Drago muttered for all.
“Couldn’t you just send a warning?” Professor mFumbo asked.
Kris shook her head. “Even if we did, it could be taken as us just trying to cover our tracks. At best, they might credit us with having gotten cold feet on an op after we turned it loose, and we’re trying to help them close it down. Either way, it’s us killing Peterwald in the end. I have to go.”
Jack was still shaking his head. “Oh Lord, Kris. You expect to come racing in, shouting that there’s a plot to kill Henry Peterwald, and be believed?”
“I have to try.
“I can have the ship under way in thirty minutes, Your Highness,” Drago said, rising from his chair.
“Make it so, Captain.” He left to do just that.
“Let’s see what other loose ends I have,” Kris said, and turned to Colonel Cortez. “Prisoner, I had planned to turn you over to Cuzco justice.” He stuck his hands out for the cuffs.
“You’re going to be staying aboard for a while,” got a frown from the colonel. “It seems my shyster is confident he can get you off with a wrist slap. He’s already gleefully planning your career as a consultant to future filibustering expeditions. With a fifteen percent take for him.”
“I was expecting as much,” Cortez said.
“So I’m not letting you off my ship. Not here, at least.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Thank me?” Kris said, surprised by the man.
“Yes. I made a mistake, getting involved with that mess. I’d hate to be trapped in it for the rest of my life.”
Kris didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Still, she had a prisoner on her hands, one with skills she was using.
“Penny, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t POWs who work supposed to be paid for that work?”
“I believe that is required,” the kid of a cop answered.
“Abby, after you repaper the Serpent, work up a contract hiring the colonel as a consultant in military affairs.”
“What kind of pay scale?” the maid/intel weenie asked.
“Something appropriate for a colonel.”
Cortez chuckled. “Make it a short-term temporary appointment,” he said. “I’m sure the princess will find some judge to take my case. Maybe at this Chance place, where you’re sending my troop transport.”
“We’d never send you to Chance,” Penny said.
The colonel’s smile was replaced by puzzlement.
“You see, Colonel,” Jack said, “the last time Kris was there, the Peterwalds tried to take over Chance. The folks there really objected to that.”
“I see,” the colonel said.
“Not really, you don’t,” Penny added. “It came to a fight, and in that fight, Mr. Peterwald’s son was killed.”
“Oh my,” Cortez said, then a light seemed to dawn. “The son of the man your princess is hell-bent on saving?”
“The very same,” Abby said. “Now you see how big a bucket of horse pucky we are in.”
“Holy Mother of God,” the old soldier said.
“All hands, set getting-under-way details,” said the MC1.
47
The trip to Birridas was uneventful. As it turned out, the Serpent had none of the necessary gear to forge ship’s papers. The Wasp, of course, had two sets, one in Abby’s cabin, the other in Captain Drago’s stateroom. Why was Kris not surprised?
The only important decision that had to be made involved the ship’s acceleration. Kris ordered 1.5 gees. She expected complaints from the boffins, but wound up facing Gunny instead.
“Ma’am, I assume you want as many Marines ready for duty as possible when we get there.”
“You got that right, Gunny.”
“Well, we’ve got almost a score of shooters in sick bay, ma’am. They need to start physical therapy, Doc tells me, and he was hoping we could cut their weight down to .85 gees.”
Kris coordinated with Captain Drago. Twice a day, the ship reduced acceleration. Three times a day, at every meal, Sulwan Kann, the ship’s navigator, told Kris just how much trouble it was reworking her course around it.
But the Marines got their therapy. Kris wanted every available trigger-puller up and running when they hit Birridas.
As soon as they jumped into Birridas space, they were hailed and told to go away. “This space is closed to any ship not a Greenfeld warship.”
Captain Drago once more proved himself the biggest teller of tall tales in human space. They got permission to dock for emergency repairs. But no one would be permitted to disembark. No one. And there would be guards posted at their gangway.
No one got off.
Of course, Drago didn’t mention that Kris Longknife, putative killer of Peterwald scions, was on board. Kris figured once that word got out, guards assigned to keep folks on the Wasp would have a new assignment. Storming the Wasp.
Kris was strapped into a seat on the bridge as Drago oversaw his ship’s final approach to High Birridas. A view of the station showed almost finished laser emplacements, but few of them had the actual lasers installed. Kris suspected none were up and calibrated. Somewhere, a lot of people were working long hours finishing that delayed job.
The station’s piers clearly showed the effect of the recent changeover. Every dock had a Greenfeld ship tied up.
Kris spotted only two empty slots, and watched as Drago maneuvered the Wasp toward one of them.
KRIS, YOU HAVE A CALL COMING IN.
FROM WHOM? Kris thought her presence here was still their little secret.
HE ASKED ME NOT TO TELL YOU. TRUST ME, YOU WANTS TO TALK TO HIM.
More proof that Auntie Tru needed to spend some quality time wandering around Nelly’s bursting innards.
PUT HIM THROUGH, Kris thought with a sigh.
HI, KRIS. CAPTAIN KRÄTZ HERE. I SAW THE WASP HAD TALKED HER WAY IN AND FIGURED YOU MIGHT STILL BE ABOARD.
HOW ARE THE GIRLS, AND YOUR JUNIOR COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER?
THE GIRLS ARE FINE. LOOKS LIKE SOME WEDDINGS ARE IN A COUPLE OF THEIR FUTURES. GOOD MEN ALL. IT WILL BE A JOY TO MARRY THEM OFF. AND THE JUNIOR COMM WATCH STANDER PUT THIS CALL THROUGH. HER DAD WANTS HER ON SOUTH CONTINENT WITH HIM, BUT SHE’S IN NO HURRY. YOUR FILE SAYS YOU LIKE TO STAY CLEAR OF YOUR OLD MAN, TOO. GLAD MY GIRLS DON’T HAVE WHATEVER DISEASE YOU TWO GIRLS HAVE.
I LOVE TALKING FAMILY, CAPTAIN, BUT I DON’T THINK THAT’S WHY YOU CALLED.
NOPE, I FIGURED I BETTER WARN YOU. REAL SOON YOU’RE GOING TO BE ASKED TO DUMP YOUR REACTOR CORE AND OFFLOAD ALL SHIP-STORED POWER TO THE STATION. THAT INCLUDES THE CAPACITORS FOR THE LASERS YOU DON’T HAVE.
“We’re going to be asked to dump our reactor core before we dock,” Kris said out loud.
“What?” was Captain Drago’s reaction.
NELLY, GO PUBLIC WITH THIS CALL.
“Yes,” Captain Krätz said. “Every ship tied up, including my Surprise, is cold reactor and empty capacitors. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they didn’t trust us.”
“What could possibly make them think that?” Drago muttered.
At that moment, a harried man in a rumpled uniform appeared on-screen. B
ehind him stood a man in the impeccable black uniform of Greenfeld State Security. He had a machine pistol slung at his waist and looked all too eager to use it.
“As soon as you attach to the first dock tie-down, you must vent your reactor to space. Both of them. You still got an engine problem that just has to be worked on here.”
“I told you I do.” Drago tapped his commlink. “Engineering, prepare to vent all reactor contents to space. Be sure to do it away from the pier.”
“You got it, boss.”
The man disappeared from the screen.
“Thank you, Captain Krätz, for the warning,” Kris said.
“I figured you’d like a bit of advance word. Your file says paranoia runs in your family.”
“Understandable since someone does seem out to get us.”
“I would know nothing of that.”
“Speaking of that, you must be curious as to why I’m here.”
“The thought did cross my mind,” the captain said dryly.
“There is a plot afoot to kill Mr. Henry Peterwald.”
“Do tell. There’ve been only four attempts this week. Three died in the act and one during interrogation. Mind you, none of that is in the papers. My security officer told me as a stern reminder that all of the restrictions on movement for my crew are indeed necessary.”
“Four,” Kris said, and glanced around the bridge. The clanking of the first-pier tie-down echoed through the hull. Some kind of hissing quickly joined it, and the lights flickered.
They were committed to Birridas. No turning back.
“Captain Krätz, were any of the assassins connected to either Xanadu or the Abdicator movement?”
“Good heavens, are those nuts still running around? But no, all were homegrown from Birridas. At least that’s the story. Me, I suspect if they looked real hard at some of those entrails, they might lead back to the Palace. But dead men tell no tales.”
“Xanadu does exist, and I’ve been there twice in the last month or so. It appears that a small tactical team of young enthusiasts has been sent from the Guides of the Abdicators to start a war. Our best guess is that it would involve killing your Peterwald.”
Kris Longknife: Intrepid Page 31