Kris Longknife: Mutineer

by Mike Shepherd

  “The media reports that the Earth fleet and nearly one hundred other planetary squadrons are to meet at the Paris system to officially mark their withdrawal from the Society of Humanity. The Paris system is a nearly uninhabited system with an unusual number of jump points created when two systems collided since the jump points were created by aliens.”

  “Cut the standard media pablum,” Kris ordered, her gut knotting. “This is supposed to be a peaceful meeting, right?”

  “Commentaries and news reports run the full spectrum, from war to peace to high-stakes gamble, usually reflecting established editorial positions and past commentaries.”

  “What does the prime minister say?”

  “He hails this as peace in our time.” Kris remembered that quote from somewhere, searched her own memory, found it, and didn’t like the taste of it.

  “I have the conn,” the captain announced. “I can get us away from the pier. Let’s start you three on some really hard simulations.” So Kris got down to business and stayed that way through the rest of the day. Arms and hands aching, she stumbled to her bed and was asleep before she even got her shoes off.

  Next morning, Chief Bo was brushing her teeth as Kris awoke. “You slept right through reveille,” the chief reported through the foam in her mouth. “Figured you could use a few extra winks. You know your hands were moving in your sleep?”

  “I was dreaming battle scenarios.” Kris admitted.

  “Well, you were going through them full bore.”

  Kris stripped, stumbled to the shower, and was under the spray for a full half minute before what was missing dawned on her. Grabbing a towel, she asked the chief, “You remember us going through a jump last night?”

  “Nope, they always wake me up. No matter how bushed I am, they wreck a night’s sleep.”

  “Nelly, did they announce a jump during the night, or did I miss one yesterday?”

  “This ship has not yet jumped out of the Cambria system.”

  Kris lifted her hand, estimated its weight. “One g, maybe a bit more.”

  “One point two-five g’s, ma’am. Geeze, I thought you bridge types always got the word first.”

  “Skipper must have ordered that while I was deep in a sim. We should have been at any of the five standard jumps out of Cambria hours ago.”

  “Guess we aren’t using them. I heard there’s supposed to be a war on or something,” the chief said, dryly. “Might account for brass doing the less expected.”

  “Yeah,” Kris agreed. The skipper had put them on a war footing, and she should quit thinking peacetime drills. They’d packed them into the elevator pod, into the Happy Wanderer. Why not use the jump less traveled? “Nelly, keep track of the ship’s acceleration, and let me know which jump we do use.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Which was a good thing, because Kris’s day rapidly vanished, lost in simulations. Targets were moving faster, jinking and zigzagging. There were friendly ships now as well to keep track of. Space was more cluttered as planets and moons entered the exercises, warping maneuvers with their gravity. “Damn it, Addison, you accelerated us into that gravity well. We shot past those bastards so fast we’ll never get turned around.”

  “Sorry, sir. I saw them, and I went for them.”

  “That’s the right stuff when we’re in deep space, but fights, real fights, take place where there’s something worth fighting for. Nine out of ten battles with Unity and the Iteeche were within two hundred thousand klicks of a planet. Get used to working with gravity, Ensign, or I’ll get someone who can.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Longknife, why’d you miss them as we went by?”

  “Rate of closure and rate of change on the defilade shot exceeded the capacity of the system, sir.”

  “I didn’t ask why the computer didn’t give you a shot, I asked why you didn’t take a shot.”

  She didn’t want to waste the laser energy, but that wasn’t the answer the skipper wanted. “No excuse, sir.”

  “That answer may keep me from chewing your tail, Ensign, but it won’t keep the enemy from cutting this ship open and spilling your shipmates into vacuum. You see a shot, you take a shot. Let me worry about my energy budget. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Kris also noticed there were no euphemisms now. Earth ships were enemy, pure and simple. It was getting harder in her fatigue-fogged brain to remember that her Grampa Trouble said he was doing his damnedest to keep that from happening. Kris’s hands were trained.

  They were fighting the ship’s lasers all day; no wonder they were fighting the ship’s lasers in her sleep. Like a well-trained automaton, she was reacting with little or no thought. That was what Thorpe wanted; that was what Kris gave him. The quick smiles he rationed her were worth it.

  She didn’t get that many smiles the rest of the afternoon as gravity wells swung the simulated Typhoon here and there, giving Kris damn poor shots. Kris was a zombie as she made her way to her stateroom that night. Surprisingly, Bo was still up.

  “Crew’s a bit edgy,” the chief said as Kris stripped off her sweat-soaked uniform. Bo took it from her and ran it through the cleaner. “The skipper hasn’t posted the ship’s route on the mess room screen.”

  “That’s peacetime practice,” Kris mouthed, pulling on a nightshirt. “We’re on a war footing.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t that pushing it a bit?”

  “You know Thorpe better than I do, but from where I’m sitting, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

  “We jumped early today. Did you notice it?”

  “Went right past me. Nelly, what jump did we use?”

  “Ninety-nine percent probability we used jump point India.”

  “India!” Kris struggled awake. Alpha, Beta, Gamma were the most frequently used, in that order, jump points of a system. India was never used. “What’s India’s safety factor?” Jump points wandered, understandable since they orbited two, three, or more stars. The more they wandered with respect to anyone star, the more likely they were to send a starship on a sour jump in the bad old days. Still, even today, passenger liners only used levels A and B, and did it at a slow speed. The Navy was a bit more daring; they used C and D jumps.

  “Cambria’s jump point India is an F on the index.”

  “We are on a war footing,” Chief Bo breathed.

  “Nelly, project the shortest course from Cambria jump India to the Paris system. Display.” A holovid shot from Kris’s shoulder to dance in the air between Kris and Bo. Three long jumps took them far away from human space, which in and of itself violated the Wardhaven Treaty. Still, the last one brought them right back to where they wanted to go.

  “We will arrive at Paris jump Kilo. It has not been used recently. Assuming it is still within fifty thousand klicks of its last reported position, it will put us here,” the holovid expanded on the Paris system. Five suns did a wild jig around each other and, in the case of the two smallest suns, through the orbits of several of the fifteen planets and the asteroids that marked the wreckage of two more. Two gas giants provided refueling stations to the six jump points that supported dozens of major shipping routes. If Olympia gave access to much of the Rim in four jumps, this train wreck of a system did the same in three…with Earth thrown in as well. A great transfer station for the last eighty years, was it about to become a great place to start a war?

  “What’s the nearest often-used jump point?” Kris asked.

  “Alpha.” A square in the system turned red. “It is on the main route between Earth and many of the Rim worlds.”

  “Wardhaven?”

  “Yes. Traffic from Wardhaven used the Delta jump point.” A second square halfway across the system turned green.

  “We’re going to be right next to the jump the Earth battle fleet is most likely to use.” Bo frowned.

  “And about as far from Wardhaven’s as you can get,” Kris finished. “Assuming, of course that we use this route. Nelly, estimate times required between these jump
s. Report to me when I am not on the bridge if this ship’s jumps match that course.”

  “Good thinking, ma’ am. But even if this is our route, what does it mean?”

  “I have no idea,” Kris admitted. Kris also had to admit she was tired, wasn’t going to get much sleep, and desperately wanted a lot more than she was likely to get. She would think about this in her spare time tomorrow. Right, like she’d been getting a lot lately. Kris drifted off within seconds of hitting the sack. Her dreams were vivid. No matter how hard she fought, the Earth ships were always there first with their lasers. No matter how fast she got her shots off, the Earth lasers were already slicing into the Typhoon. Time after time she watched Tommy and Bo and her marines’ faces as they gasped for air in the vacuum.

  Next morning, breakfast wolfed down, she was headed for the bridge but found Corporal Li facing her. “Ms. Longknife, the captain hasn’t posted the course. These jumps don’t fit any of our other trips out. Some of the marines are kind of worried.”

  “Trust me,” Kris told the corporal who’d dropped with her to rescue the girl forever and just two months ago. “This ship is headed for the Paris system. Skipper’s just taking a different route. Got to quit thinking like peacetime.”

  “Is it gonna be a war, ma’am?” The corporal’s face was a mixture of emotions, leaving Kris to guess what answer he wanted.

  “The prime minister and a lot of other good folks are doing everything they can to see that this all ends peacefully. But you know the old man. If it comes to a fight, he wants the Typhoon to be the best there is in the fleet.”

  “Yeah, that’s the skipper. Thank you, ma’am.” And the man was gone, and Kris was late for the bridge, but she suspected what she said would be through half the ship before lunch.

  “So glad you could join us,” Captain Thorpe said as Kris slipped into her seat at 0600 exactly. “Ensign Lien, you’ve been getting off too easy. Addison and Longknife haven’t let the ship take enough hits. I’m putting you on your own set of sims. Addison, you’re still not using gravity wells for all they’re worth. The Typhoon is fast, and we operate independently. Forget about staying in formation with the rest of the squadron. Push it. Work it. Longknife, you’re still waiting too long for the computer to offer you shots. Think ahead of the damn machine. I know you’ve got the killer instinct. Use it.”

  The captain drove them hard that day. He was none too pleased when Kris missed two shots; both when the Typhoon went through real jumps. “Ensign, you took three minutes to set the ship up for that shot, then you miss. Damn it, that should never have happened.”

  “Sorry, sir. The jump disoriented me for a second. It won’t happen in battle.”

  “You bet it won’t. Addison, Longknife, take a break. XO, Comm, meet me in my day cabin.”

  “Yes, sirs” answered him.

  Kris and Addison dropped down to the mess room. Kris wrapped both her hands around the hot mug, willing the warmth to soften the knots in her fingers and the palms of her hands.

  “Bet you can’t wait to get some Earth ships in your sights. I’m so sick of steering the ship and not feeling her move under me. Let’s get this thing on for real!” Addison crowed.

  “We’re not at war yet,” Kris pointed out.

  “What’s the matter, you like Earth? They’ve been kicking us around for eighty years. It’s about time we show Earth that space belongs to the Rim.”

  “So we show them the door and take off on our own. We don’t need a war for that.”

  “You think they’ll let us just walk? I hear they want payment for every ship we take. Full, brand-new price tag. Even the ones we bought ourselves. Earthies are brain dead.”

  “And a war is going to leave a lot of people real dead.”

  “What’s the matter, Longknife, you afraid?”

  “Addison, you ever faced a loaded weapon aimed at you?”

  “No.” That let some air out of him.

  “When you’ve done it two or three times, I’ll buy you a beer and we can compare notes. Until then, stow it.” Kris cut off the debate and put down her cold coffee. “Let’s get back.”

  The skipper cut them loose early that evening. “Take a long, hot shower. Get some rest. We jump into the Paris system at oh nine hundred tomorrow. Things may get exciting after that.”

  Kris headed for her room. “Nelly, what jump will an oh nine hundred arrival use to get us into Paris?”

  “Kilo,” the computer answered.

  “Have you picked up any news?”

  “No. We have been too far from human space.”

  The entire squadron was following each other through jump points without buoys. Of course, this far from human space, there should be no risk of running into another ship coming through the opposite way. No human ship. Right. This was way beyond weird.

  “Kris,” Nelly said slowly, “you asked me to conduct my own searches and let you know when I find something that does not match a pattern I am familiar with.”

  “Yes.”

  “Right after the comm officer met with the captain, he loaded some new systems that are not active and which I cannot discern the purpose of.”

  “Something that will put us on a war footing?” Kris said.

  “I have a list of all systems to be loaded when a state of war is declared. These are not part of them. I also cannot in any way interface with this software.”

  “It’s not running?”

  “No, it is only sitting there.”

  “Let me know as soon as it starts doing something.”

  “I will.”

  Kris knuckled her eyes with both hands, trying to rub away exhaustion; her brain felt half dead. All this had to mean something. Why would Father or Grampa Ray order Attack Squadron Six to take this roundabout way to Paris? Why would they want their best ships jumping into that system right beside the Earth battle squadron? Beside or behind? Assuming the Earth ships arrived a while back, they should have cruised over to meet the Rim squadrons and done whatever they intended to do. How do you haul a flag down on a spaceship?

  Kris got this mental image of admirals standing around at attention, saluting in space suits while some poor spacer scraped the blue and green flag emblem off a ship’s bow. Girl, you’re punch drunk. A shower didn’t help. She fell into bed and promptly went to sleep.

  “Ma’am, you asleep?” Bo asked her a hundred years later.

  “I was. Something wrong?”

  “Nothing, I guess. What you told the corporal, it was nice. I think it dumped about ten tons of fear off this boat.”

  “That’s nice,” Kris said, pulling up the sheet.

  “Word is we’re going to get there tomorrow early.”

  “Yeah.” Kris did not want to wake up anymore.

  “You know which jump point we’re going to use?”

  “Looks like the one my computer expected. Kilo, I think.”

  “So we’re going to jump right in on the Earth battle fleet. How do you think they’re going to take it?”

  “How should I know?” Kris barely kept her growing frustration out of her voice.

  “I sure hope there aren’t any jumpy gunner’s mates over there. Those battlewagons have lasers good out to a hundred thousand klicks, and we’re going to be well inside that.”

  Kris blinked and turned over. “We will be, won’t we?”

  “Fifty thousand klicks is almost in range for our twenty-four-inch pulse lasers, ma’ am.”

  “Don’t worry. What ship hangs out around a jump point? Those Earth battlewagons will probably be way to hell and gone over to meet the Rim ships. Figure some smart dude will have brought along a couple of barges of beer. Spacers from both fleets will be guzzling brew while their admirals talk nice.”

  “I sure hope so, ma’am.”

  “I thought you’d like a live shoot.”

  “Be nice to know that all this training was for something, but ma’am, a war between us and Earth. God help us all!”

  “Ge
t some sleep, Chief. We all have to be our best tomorrow.” And Kris rolled back over and tried to go back to sleep. But tomorrow’s tactical situation kept floating around in her head. What if some twitchy gunner in the Earth fleet took a potshot at AttackRon Six? Well, that was what the smart metal was for, to protect them. Commodore Sampson would sort that out. That was nothing for an ensign to worry about.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Twenty seconds to jump,” Addison announced.

  “Longknife, I want a full target display with ranges and bearings fifteen seconds out of this jump,” Thorpe ordered.

  “Yes sir,” Kris said and checked her board. All range finders were on-line: laser, optical, gravitational, and radar.

  They showed the rest of Attack Squadron Six in line ahead of the Typhoon. The flag, Hurricane, led Cyclone, Tornado, Shamal, Monsoon, Scirocco, and Chinook. Captain Thorpe was none too happy as tag-end Charlie. If the jump point moved suddenly, the Typhoon could miss it and have to make a go-around and hunt for it while the rest of the squadron was already on the other side.

  “Are we on station?” the captain asked Addison again.

  “Within a kilometer, sir,” he reported.

  “Keep us right there.” Kris watched the seconds until jump countdown…three, two, one. There was the usual disorientation in her inner ear. Her board went red as the receivers got no response to the various search signals they’d sent out only microseconds before. Kris blinked, and the board went back to green.

  And reported more real targets than Kris had ever seen in any simulation.

  Attack Squadron Six quickly deployed into a wedge attack formation. The Hurricane, as flag, held the middle with the second division’s four corvettes echeloned out to the right, the flank closest to the Earth fleet, while three, with Typhoon at the end, swung out to the left. Kris took that in at a glance. It was the Earth Battle Fleet that made her fight to keep her mouth closed and her bladder under control.

  Huge battleships, ice-armored three meters thick against lasers, were arranged in eight stately rows of sixteen, gleaming in the light of five distant suns. Without a moment of willed thought, Kris’s hands went through the drill, establishing range and bearing, correlating that with her own ship’s movement, seeking firing solutions. The Earth ships accelerated at a steady quarter g; they did not maneuver, did not stray from their line ahead. In ten seconds, Kris had them dialed in.