Kris Longknife: Furious

by Mike Shepherd

  Nelly cleared her nonexistent throat. “Kris, shortly after they gave you this dividend, they made a major stock offer. You now control only twenty-five percent of the stock in the bank, and the value of your stock has doubled.”

  Kris shut her eyes and shook her head. “Am I involved in something illegal?”

  “No, Kris. It’s just that you started something that really needed starting. Lots of people headed out from the cities and, once Texarkana’s industry and farmers quit cutting off their noses to spite their faces, they found there was a lot of pent-up demand, and money to be made meeting it. Texarkana’s economy is growing at better than ten percent, and there’s plenty of money to be made by everyone.”

  “So I can take this money without fear of flattening my friends.”

  “Yep,” Nelly said.

  “And in one afternoon, I’ve gone from penniless to moderately rich. Jack, you should have married me last week. Now I’ll have to worry you’re after my money.”

  Jack snapped his fingers, then added sadly, “And now I’ll have to take my place in line.”

  “First place,” Kris said, and gave him a kiss. “Always first place in my heart.”

  “If you two can come up for air for a minute,” Abby growled, “there’s more financial mail.”

  “More?” Kris said.

  “Never rains but it pours, honey,” Abby said. “You remember that Ruth Edris thing you set up on Olympia?”

  “Something for distressed farmers. Having a nongovernmental agency let me hire local people. Folks wanted jobs, not handouts.”

  “Well, it seems the place is on the mend, and somebody decided to convert the fund into a credit union. Most of the folks you hired gave your money back as soon as they were back on their feet, and you are now the full owner of the place.”

  “Ah, Nelly, we’re going to have to file an amended tax return.”

  “Already working on it, Kris.”

  “Those folks don’t owe me anything.”

  “Kris,” Penny put in, “those are hardworking farmers and ranchers. They needed your help, but their pride won’t let them not give back. Let them do what they’re doing and say thank you.”

  “Your advice will be taken,” Kris said. There was one less zero in that transfer. Those folks weren’t finding it easy to recover from either a volcanic explosion or, if Kris’s suspicions were right, an asteroid hit.

  A well-aimed asteroid hit.

  “Business is starting to recover there, too,” Nelly put in. “Them being at the nexus of five jump points is drawing in money.”

  “And likely the reason someone wanted to buy up the place, cheap,” Penny muttered. Kris had assigned Penny the job of trying to track down who had aimed an asteroid at Olympia.

  In her immense spare time.

  So far, Penny had leads but no results. And the trail was getting colder and less likely to pan out.

  It was just one more question Kris was likely never to know the answer to.

  “So,” Kris said, “me no longer being poor, I guess I’ll have to start paying my bills. By the way, have any bills come in?”

  “Not a one,” Nelly said.

  “You send a bill, you got to admit you’re working for a criminal facing capital crimes,” Abby drawled. “I suspect a lot don’t want to admit they’ve had an oar in your troubled waters.”

  “Or they like Auntie Kris and just want to help her,” piped up Cara. As usual, she’d gravitated to where everyone else was without being noticed. She’d been playing her computer game and keeping quiet until she added her own innocent observation.

  Kris found herself struggling to breathe and weak in the knees. She settled into a chair as her eyes moistened, and her mouth got dry. It took her a minute before she could risk a word.

  “An awful lot of people have been helping me, haven’t they?”

  Around Kris, people found their own seats. Jack came to perch on the arm of Kris’s chair.

  “Growing up, I didn’t have many friends. Some of it was my own fault. Some of it was being a Longknife brat, the Prime Minister’s brat. Children can be very cruel to . . .”

  Abby was holding up her thumb and forefingers and slowly moving them sideways.

  “Yes, I know, you’re playing ‘My Heart Bleeds for You’ on the world’s tiniest violin.”

  “Got it in one, baby cakes.”

  “What I’m trying to get at, is that I wouldn’t be here except for my friends. You, Penny. You, Abby.”

  “Friend? I’m just a working girl,” Abby cut in.

  “And when did you last get paid?” Penny asked.

  “All of you, and people like Captain Elizabeth Luna and Colonel Hancock. You can’t tell me that either of them got anything out of risking their necks for me.”

  “Not a thing,” Jack said.

  “But they did,” Kris pointed out.

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Penny said with a snort. “And who have I heard that from way too many times?”

  “Friends stuck their necks out for me,” Kris said flatly. “And not the least of them are the present company. I owe you more than I can ever repay. For what it’s worth, I really appreciate you.”

  There is something in our human nature that makes it hard to take praise, or love, or good things spoken by a friend or a loved one. The room fell silent with a blend of inability to find words and not a small bit of embarrassment.

  The silence might have gotten maudlin, but Nelly broke it. “The judges require Kris be present in court in one hour. They have reached a verdict.”

  “No time for a bath,” Abby said, jumping to her feet, “but you are not wearing sweats to court.”

  57

  An hour later, Kris was in court, standing at attention in dress whites with full decorations and facing her judges. Her lawyer stood beside her.

  They hadn’t had a moment to exchange any words. Kris wondered if a day and a half was a good sign or bad.

  She’d know soon enough.

  The Chief Justice did not waste time. He stared straight at Kris like the angel of death and pronounced judgment.

  Sort of.

  “This court, having thoroughly reviewed the capital charges against you and the evidence provided to this court, find that the prosecution has not proven the charges. This court is adjourned,” and the gavel came down.

  The judges beat a hasty retreat, their faces as devoid of emotion as any you might find on marble statues.

  The room behind Kris broke into bedlam as reporters called in this latest bit of news in the ongoing Longknife saga.

  And Kris turned to her counsel. “So I’m innocent?”

  “Not exactly,” Tsusumu said, eyeing the retreating judges the way cavalry of old might eye a routed army.

  “Then I’m guilty?”

  “Not exactly,” Tsusumu said, glancing at the prosecution table. The head prosecutor looked like he’d just been slapped in the face with a week-old fish.

  “Then what exactly am I?” Kris demanded.

  “No longer in danger of a meeting with the headsman, at least not on Musashi,” Tsusumu said, offering Kris his hand to shake.

  She did while saying “I don’t understand. Will there be another trial?”

  “No, you need not fear further legal action here on Musashi. By one of the more unusual fine points of our law, you have been found neither guilty nor innocent, but the government has had its day in court and failed to make its case.”

  “But if I get clapped in cuffs on another planet, will I be able to point at this decision for any comfort?”

  “I’m not sure that even if Musashi judged you and found you innocent that it would have created a precedent on any other planet. I really do miss the good old days, when we were all in the Society of Humanity. It made for clear legal precedent.”

  “But are we done here?”

  “Yes, Princess, we are done. You are free, and no, you won’t be getting a bill from me. I think we will be
seeing an election very soon, and that will be more than payment for the enjoyable time you have given me and mine.”

  “I’m glad someone enjoyed it.”

  “And now, there is a man who wishes to talk to you. Be careful about any contracts he offers you to sign. I would be glad to provide legal advice on them . . . for my usual exorbitant fee.”

  And Kris turned to face a tall man in a three-piece business suit. He announced himself as “I am Kikuchi Rokuro,” as he offered his hand. He sported a huge smile.

  Kris shook the hand. Few people in court were smiling; the verdict didn’t exactly make anyone too happy. She couldn’t help but wonder at this man’s joy.

  He didn’t make her wait long.

  “I am the CEO of Mitsubishi Heavy Space Industries, and I am here to invite you to visit your new ship, the Wasp II.”

  Kris wanted to take a step back, but the defense table was behind her.

  “Don’t worry, Princess,” Tsusumu said, “the man is not crazy. I helped incorporate the fund that is buying you your new ship.”

  Kris found a chair and sat in it. “Can we start this story at the beginning?”

  “We can, but wouldn’t you like to come with me up the beanstalk to see your ship? We have just about finished spinning out the frigate Wasp, and it looks most beautiful.”

  Still none too sure how she felt about her day in court, Kris stood and prepared to follow this new friend up the beanstalk, or maybe down a rabbit hole.

  One thing about being a Longknife, it never got boring.

  58

  “The children of Musashi donated their savings to buy you a ship.”

  They were on their way up the beanstalk, and Kris’s new best friend was explaining how it was the Mitsubishi Heavy Space Industry, a company with a heart no softer than Grampa Al’s Nuu Enterprises, happened to be building a ship for a homeless waif like Kris.

  True, Kris was no longer penniless, but the ship that Rokuro, yes, they were on a first-name basis, was offering Kris was no more within her reach than that of the average homeless street person.

  “So the kids held bake sales and collected recyclables,” Kris said dryly.

  “Yes, I understand many of them did,” the CEO said, without batting an eyelash. “The comment at your press conference caught a lot of people’s attention. If you had a ship, you would go find out if the newfound alien planet was still safe. It wasn’t just kids who took it to heart. I must tell you that not all the donations to the New Wasp fund were from children, although the children of Musashi have a tradition of offering the Emperor a new ship or interceptor. We feel it brings out civic duty early.”

  “You were saying not all the donations were from kids,” Kris said. For a CEO, Rokuro had a tendency to wander.

  “Once the ball got rolling, many corporations made rather hefty donations. It became common for them to put that at the bottom of the screen on their advertisements.”

  Kris groaned. Did that mean she would be expected to make advertising appearances as payment? She could just see herself doing a beer commercial and quaffing down a brew . . . NOT!

  She shared her thought with her enthusiastic friend.

  “Oh, no, never! Please do not even think of such a thing. We all fully expect that you will depart on your long voyage to the other side of the galaxy as soon as you can. There will be no time for you to waste before cameras.”

  Kris fell silent. Just what was a frigate? Kris had never heard of that class of ships. How big was it? Did it have the range and power for long jumps? This man beside her had to know that fitting out a ship for a long voyage was not done in an afternoon. Kris would need a crew. Supplies. Lots of things.

  She glanced back at Jack and Penny. They both looked worried. Even Cara, standing next to Abby, looked frightened. Gunny, who’d continued to accompany them even after Kris’s Imperial Marine detachment was relieved, kept the bland face one would expect of a senior NCO in the presence of officers who were talking downright crazy.

  Kris decided to wait and see if this new Wasp was bigger than a bread box and smaller than the mythical telephone booth.

  She was glad she kept her mouth shut.

  It made being surprised a whole lot easier.

  Kris found herself staring at two ships fitting out in space docks. Next to them, two more were growing before her eyes.

  “We’re using Smart Metal for the ship’s hull and internal structures,” Mr. Kikuchi said.

  Inside Kris cringed. “Have you read the report we did after tests on the Firebolt?”

  “Yes, we have a contractual agreement with Alex Longknife to use his original formula, but my son Katsu-san and his team are making some very interesting changes in both the metal and the programming that makes it do what it does. And yes, we have tested it up to five gees. I think, when we are done, it is your grandfather Al who will be paying us, not the other way around.”

  Kris suspected many lawyers would be making a lot of money as the fine points of that opinion were worked out. Hopefully, Tsusumu would get a chance at some of the pay.

  Kris studied the one with Wasp clearly printed on the bow. It was longer than her old Wasp and carried more containers, making it much wider and taller. The ship beside it was in the standard elongated oval of a warship, its surface reflected back light and seemed ready to do the same to any laser.

  Rokuro-san saw where Kris was looking. “That is the Sakura, cherry blossom, for His Imperial Majesty’s Navy. Next to these two are the Kagero and the Akizuki. They are a month or two behind the first two.”

  Kris eyed the Wasp, then the Sakura. “They’re quite different.”

  “No, they are identical,” he said, then paused. “Oh, I see. You only see the containers of the Wasp. With little more than a push of a button, your Wasp can be as much a fighting ship as the Sakura. All of what look like standard commercial containers are made of Smart Metal. My son has already developed a program. When you order the ship into battle form, the contents of each container will be shrunken down into a box and stored. You will want to gather all the people in safe areas before you do that. I don’t know many people who would want to be boxed up like scientific equipment and stored.”

  Kris could think of a few scientists she would have liked to box up, but since most of them were now dead, she felt guilty for the thought.

  “Just how much can we finagle with this ship?” Jack asked before Kris could get her mind out of the mental image of boxed scientists and back to business.

  Rokuro tapped his wrist computer, and images began to appear in the air before Kris and her crew. First came the container-laden Wasp they were looking at. Then appeared a much smoother warship version, identical to the Sakura. Then the warship divided into two ships.

  That brought a whistle.

  “I read the report of the problems you had refueling your corvette. This configuration allows you to isolate most of your nonmilitary personnel. You can use the Battle Con backup bridge to guide this Wasp junior and one of the three reactors to propel it.”

  “Three reactors?” Kris said.

  “The three are the same power as those on a heavy cruiser, and a cruiser only has two. You will be drawing electricity directly from the reactors. No hydrothermodynamic electric generators for the frigates.”

  “And we’ll be using all that power for . . . ?” Kris asked.

  “The four 18-inch laser cannons up forward.”

  That drew a whistle from all the onlookers.

  “As in battleship big gun 18-inch laser cannons?” Kris said.

  “The same. No short-ranged pulse lasers for the frigates. If you have to slug it out with those alien ships, we want you to pack a wallop and be able to take it.”

  “Armor. Is there ice under the skin of the Sakura?” Kris asked.

  “It is all Smart Metal and reaction mass, but my son has developed a most interesting defense. Not only does his version of Smart Metal transfer heat quickly from atom to atom, but it als
o heats the reaction mass that is passed through ducts under the skin.”

  The picture before them zoomed in to the skin of the ship as a laser beam appeared. Forward of the strike, pores opened up, and jets of superheated reaction mass shot out into space. “That should cause any laser beam to bloom and lose its strength.”

  “It seems that you and your son have taken Smart Metal to the next level,” Kris admitted. “I like that.”

  “We will all need small ships with the crew of a corvette and the firepower of a battleship if we are to be ready for what is coming our way.”

  “You don’t doubt it.”

  “I read your report well before you made it available at the Kyoto University press conference.”

  Kris raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Not everyone is afraid to face the future. Maybe if some of us prepare the path, it will be easier for others to walk it. These frigates are just such a stepping-stone.”

  “I like what I see,” Kris said.

  “Good, because you and I must talk about final payment for the Wasp. Schoolchildren and advertising budgets can only go so far. Half of the Wasp is not paid for.”

  “And the other half?” Kris said.

  “Ah, here comes my son. Let us sit and reason together.”

  Kris eyed the Wasp, new spun and lovely, and turned to take in the young man walking quickly toward her. He looked clear-eyed and eager. Kris began to calculate just what she’d be willing to part with.

  An arm?

  An arm and a leg?

  How high could the bidding go?

  59

  “I will not sell you one of my children,” Nelly said in a voice that was full of insulted pride and adamant intent.

  The young engineer had made a good first impression on Kris. She’d been prepared to accept Katsu as a part of her team until the Wasp sailed and had even added a few more options to her potential list of payments for the ship that gleamed so enticingly in space dock.