Kris Longknife: Furious
Page 27
Kris landed on her butt.
Immediately, she rolled, one hand holding on the armored wig Ko-son had not approved of, and the other hand going for her automatic. Ko-son had almost stormed out when Kris insisted that her weapon had to fit somewhere in all the folds of that ancient, traditional garb.
A second shot hit the cobblestones where Kris had been half a second ago. Chips flew, and one of them hit Kris’s cheek.
She rolled again, automatic out, but with nothing to aim at.
Kris quickly raised her weapon to the sky. Her field of fire was now blocked as Imperial Marines raced to surround her. Kris knew none of them wore any more protection than their dress uniform’s wool coats, but they quickly formed two ranks around her, rifles at the ready, searching the surrounds.
Kris’s assassin of the evening might get off one more shot, but it would hit an Imperial Marine standing solidly on his honor . . . and his buddies would avenge that death with a fusillade of fire.
Then Jack was standing over her, automatic out. How he got through the Imperial Marine cordon must have involved teleportation.
Seconds stretched, but there was no third shot.
Through the Marines’ legs, Kris could see reporters groveling in the dirt, but several camera operators stood their ground, and Kris’s latest failed . . . so far . . . assassination attempt went to Musashi in bright color.
Sirens wailed from every direction, and Imperial Guards raced from the gate. These weren’t the quaint ones, but ran in full battle rattle, their weapons sighted and roving over the high ground behind Kris.
Several unarmored guards hurried along carrying incongruous black shields, the kind used by riot police.
What with the camera folks busy doing their job and the reporters doing that infantryman’s thing, hugging the earth so closely they might somehow get below ground level, Kris didn’t see a riot coming.
Then she saw the reason for the shields.
While the Imperial Guards, fully armed and armored, took up station between Kris and where the shots had come from, the guards in mere cloth stood in front of the Imperial Marines. They hoisted their shields high and it finally dawned on Kris.
They were providing her the cover to begin a withdrawal.
Somebody popped several flares, and a gadget began shooting ice pellets into the air. Now Kris could not only not be seen, but infrared sighting gear was hashed.
The Imperial Marine captain commanding joined her as Jack offered Kris a handkerchief and a hand up.
As she rose, wiping the blood from her cheek, she couldn’t help but take a sad look at her six-hundred-year-old kimono. Right in front of her heart was a flattened 5 mm slug. It looked ready to fall off; a Marine stepped forward with an evidence bag and popped the spent round into it.
That left a hole in the front of the kimono. It was matched by mud and dirt where she’d rolled on the cobblestones and, if Kris wasn’t wrong, some of the stone shards from the second round had left rips behind.
Kris could forget about the Imperial Headsman. Ko-san would kill her before he even got close.
Or maybe offer her one of the short knives and stand by while Kris committed formal seppuku.
But not in this six-hundred-year-old kimono. Surely for that, Ko-san would order in something cheap for her from Kimonos“R”Us.
Jack went up the steps to their armored van, glanced around, and signaled Kris to come up. Still, he kept a hand on her head, forcing her to stoop.
Bedraggled and bowed Kris might be, but the Imperial Marine captain was the height of politeness and honor as he helped Kris up the steps. The light Imperial Guards held their shields higher, denying anyone still paying attention a good shot at her. There were more flares and ice.
And somewhere, a shout began. Banzai! First it was just a few voices; Kris was unsure of where they came from, maybe among the reporters. Then it rolled on, one Banzai beginning before the last one finished. Banzai after Banzai after Banzai.
Kris was left dumbfounded, weakening as the adrenaline from the shoot-out wore off, but totally unable to interpret what was happening.
As the Imperial Marine captain moved to close the doors behind her, he said with a smile, “Banzai,” then translated it for Kris. “You were outstanding, Princess-san.”
No one had ever addressed her with the honor of san before.
Jack looked her over as he helped her get her hands in the straps she’d be standing in, not at all impressed. “I see you did wear the armored bodysuit I had Abby lay out for you.”
“It wasn’t her idea?”
“She’d spent too much time reading about exactly how you put one of those damn outfits together to dare take one step out of tradition. Where’d the weapon come from?” But Jack didn’t wait for a reply as he turned to the driver. “Let’s get out of here.”
The Imperial Marine sergeant shook his head. “No, sir. Not until I have two Marine gun trucks ahead and behind me. You sure there’s no mine ahead?”
While Jack considered that, Kris made sure to get the last word in their interrupted conversation.
“You’re not the only one only letting tradition take her so far, my tyrannical security chief. And if Abby hadn’t laid out a bodysuit, I would have found one myself.”
“I almost believe you,” Jack said, as the van took off.
“Believe me. Now tell me, how are you going to keep Ko-san from killing me for what I’ve done to this kimono?”
“Hmm, that’s a hard one. It depends on what weapon she uses. If she slips poison into your tea, I’ll have to stop her, but if she just hands you the short sword and expects you to kill yourself . . . Does my job description include keeping you from trying to kill yourself? You do it so often, it hardly seems something I have to stop.”
The van had taken off fast, made several hard turns that left Kris hanging on the straps, but for the moment, it was on a straight stretch. Kris took the chance to aim a whack at the top of Jack’s head.
He saw it coming and dodged.
“Well, Mrs. Lincoln, beside the shooting, how was the play? I notice that the body armor wasn’t the only place common sense won out. What footwear is that?” Jack asked.
“Zoris,” Kris supplied. “Nelly, make sure that when all this delicate gear is parceled back to who loaned it, that the gold-threaded zoris get back to the Imperial Household.”
“I’ll see to it, Kris.”
“How did it go?” Jack asked.
“I got to meet both Emiko’s mom and dad, as well as her again. Surprise, surprise, she can spend a half hour in absolute silence when it is required of her . . . and her mom is at her elbow.”
Jack chuckled at that but waited for her to go on.
Kris didn’t.
“The Emperor asked that what passed between us be totally private. Nelly didn’t record it. Maybe someday I’ll tell you. But not today.”
“Maybe when you tell me how you got that blue sash, Earth’s Order of the Wounded Lion, huh?”
Kris laughed. “I may break down on that story before this one.”
Jack just shook his head.
Back at Fujioka House, Kris was quickly passed to the women to undress, but not before Mr. Kawaguchi got his question in. “How’d it go? And I don’t mean the assassination attempt. I already know someone really doesn’t want you talking in court. I mean your time with the Emperor.”
Kris gave him the same nonanswer she’d given Jack as she was towed off to change. That left the men behind to commiserate about that strangest of creatures: a woman who did not want to talk about a date.
The look Ko-san gave Kris would have killed a mere mortal. She lifted up Kris’s outer kimono and glared at the inner layers. “Someone has redressed you,” she said accusingly.
“Rika-san sends her complements on the fine job you did preparing me.”
Ko-san snorted. “I should have known that new man would let you pass. What did you and he wear to tea, cutoffs and a tank top?”
Ko-san’s scowl did not lighten as she took in the bullet hole in Kris’s garb. “I will have to patch this. I have cloth that will match. I will also sew the edges of the bullet hole so that it does not fray or spread.”
“You’re not going to try to make it vanish?” Kris said, almost as shocked as she’d ever been in her life.
“Fix it! This is part of the kimono’s history now. Six hundred years from now, the wearer will point to the place where Princess-san Longknife was shot.”
Culture shock. Kris knew it was an occupational hazard of both her life as a princess and a Longknife. Still, it always surprised her when she walked into its sharp jab to the stomach.
Much more comfortable in sweats, Kris joined the men in the drawing room for the news. They hadn’t long to wait; Kris was the number one story on all the channels.
They showed her going in. They showed her coming out. Some presented her in quick cuts. Others lavished more time, including several that included her interchange with the reporters.
Tsusumu busted out laughing. “You didn’t! Don’t you know the Imperial Household staff are the most tight-lipped crew in human space?”
“Of course I knew,” Kris said. “But I am a stranger, and it was a good joke.”
Tsusumu quit laughing when the news flashed several stills of Kris with the Imperial Family, both before, during, and after the Tea Ceremony. It ended with a lovely shot of Kris and the Imperial Family silhouetted against the sunset before it transitioned to Kris rolling on the ground as the second shot hit near her. The reports quickly said Kris had not been hurt but showed nothing of how she had been protected by the Imperial Marines and Palace Guard.
“Gods, I am speechless” the lawyer finally said when he regained his voice. “I don’t know which to marvel at first. The kami that guards your life or His Majesty throwing down the gauntlet to Aki-san.”
“Pardon?” Kris said.
The lawyer and politician took a deep breath. “I have never seen such intimate coverage of the Emperor, certainly not of the whole family. Young woman, the Emperor has thrown his support behind you in a way never done before. There hasn’t been anything like this in the two hundred years since this line of the dynasty was founded.”
He rose to pace the room. “I don’t know what Aki will do, but I know that if the Emperor took such a bold hand in something my party was so deeply involved in, I would demand he abdicate.”
“And if he abdicated . . .?” Kris asked.
“Emiko would become the first Empress in several hundred years for either Japan, Yamato, or us.”
“How does Aki’s party feel about an Empress?” Jack asked.
Now Tsusumu was laughing again. “It would break their conservative hearts. My party, of course, would be delighted to have an idealistic young person on the throne. We’re looking forward to it.”
The lawyer ended up stroking his chin. “I would not like to be among the power brokers of the present administration tonight. Unless it was as a tiny mouse to listen. Though even a mouse would be ushered out if it could not keep from laughing at their dilemma.”
“Has this changed anything?” Kris asked.
“Unless they have the good sense to call off your trial, no. Now, if you don’t mind, I must be gone. There are several people I dearly want to discuss this with and, unfortunately, you are, as you said, a stranger and uninvolved with our local politics.”
“Only up to my neck,” Kris said.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Tsusumu said. “It is even less likely to end its days on a pike before the Justice building. Much less likely.”
Kris watched him go, then found an overstuffed chair and settled into it alone. Jack took a seat on the couch within reach and waited quietly. Kris was only starting to realize how much she valued his silence and how much it must cost him.
“The Emperor knows your name,” she told Jack.
“I believe being noticed by the Emperor in days gone by was an honor,” he said, but he said it only to fill in some of the space around Kris’s silence.
Kris took a deep breath. “The Emperor also knows that you sleep in the north wing and I in the south wing. He approves very much of that.”
Jack scowled sardonically. “He does, does he?”
“What with me accused of seducing the admirals, can you blame him?”
“No. No, I can’t. It’s just the pits having to live my life to fulfill everyone else’s needs except yours and mine.”
Kris sighed and pulled a pillow close instead of Jack. “It is the pits. But if we can get through this court thing, maybe we can just be another poor couple trying to make their way in the world.”
“You think we could?”
“What can happen to us after they judge me?” Kris asked.
“You’re a Longknife,” Jack said. “Something always happens.”
52
Kris’s first day in court started bad and then got worse.
She was all decked out in starched undress whites and about to get into the limo beside Jack when “that” happened.
She quickly scrambled back into the house and found one of the young housekeepers with the proper feminine necessities. Fortunately, it hadn’t progressed to the point she needed new whites. As she rejoined Jack in the limo, he give her a raised eyebrow.
She whispered, “That time of the month.”
“Sorry about that, and today of all days,” he whispered. Was there something deep in his eyes, maybe a hint of regret that it was still just the two of them, and not a threesome.
Would that change anything? Kris wondered.
Kris was in no mood for bull, but that was all she got that day in court. It seemed that the law let the prosecutor go first, and that meant the defense had to listen to whatever the prosecution could get the judge to let its witnesses say. The defense only got to put an oar in the water at cross-examination.
But Kris’s lawyers seemed uninterested in cross. Lawyers, as in plural. There were half a dozen at the prosecutor’s table. Kris’s team matched them one for one.
The prosecutor gave an opening statement that accused Kris of everything under the sun, from going outlaw and starting a war all on her own, coming up with a lousy plan to do it, then seducing the admirals to go along.
“Seducing!” Kris whispered in Tsusumu’s ear.
“The word has other, nonsexual meanings,” her lawyer whispered back.
“But you know what he means.”
“Sit still. Keep quiet. Can’t you see how the judges are looking at you?”
Kris had been warned that her job in court was to sit still, look innocent, and keep her mouth shut until and only if her lawyer called on her to testify. Kris had no idea how hard that would be.
Well, she’d faced hostile lasers. She could face a few hostile words.
With an effort.
The prosecution paraded a long line of retired generals and admirals who all showed up in court in their dress uniforms bespeckled with medals. Everything about their bearing, dress and demeanor shouted, “I know what I’m talking about.”
And, boy, did they talk.
One by one, each of them meticulously tore apart Kris’s battle plan. They pointed out every turn at which the fight could have gone horribly wrong, long before it actually did. They highlighted every risk Kris took and every option she didn’t follow that might have led to a better outcome.
“Her scouting was ridiculous,” one admiral growled. “She had only one contact with the force she assumed was the aggressor. An assumption she had little or no basis for. She based all her further actions on the unsupported assumption that she knew where it was going and the speed it would maintain. Every one of her actions rested on that untested supposition. She had a force of corvettes and courier ships. Any competent commander would have put
them to use as scouts.”
He thinks I should have scattered my tiny force even more! Kris scrawled on a pad for her lawyer to see. What happened to concentration of forces?
Her lawyer scratched through Kris’s comments after hardly a glance.
One of them raised the issue of the attack on the mining head that delayed their arrival at their final ambush.
“Even if we allow that she had some purpose for that distraction,” the general said, “why would a commander of a battle fleet risk her own life flying direct cover for such an operation? And it did nearly cost her her life. Her target proved to be more difficult than she thought, and she was shot down. This was totally unacceptable behavior on the part of a fleet commander.”
Kris risked a glance back at Jack, expecting an “I told you so” look. But he stared straight ahead, his face a neutral mask.
And Kris’s lawyer elbowed her in the ribs to bring her back face forward.
After each witness, Kris’s lawyer was offered a chance to cross-examine. Tsusumu never even rose from his chair to confront the prosecution’s witness but mumbled, as if half-distracted. “Have you ever been in combat, Admiral?” or “General?” as the case might be.
The answer was muttered, or growled, but it was always the same. “No.”
“No further questions.”
The first couple of times the prosecution seemed too puzzled by the question to do anything but dismiss the witness. By the fourth or fifth time, the redirect got lengthy as the prosecutor asked the witness to give a long account of their years in command or even command of the War College.
Tsusumu never asked a second question.
By morning break, Kris was boiling. Mr. Kawaguchi hustled her out of the courtroom and into a small room down the hall, where they could have some privacy.
“Why are you letting them say all that about me?” Kris demanded in a voice that wasn’t quite a scream.
“Because they are doing exactly what I want them to do,” Tsusumu said calmly.
“What? Have you already measured me for my white kimono and the headsman’s slice?”