“I am in allegiance to my father, your Emperor, as you are. We are gathered on Cuzco to resolve certain matters. I believe the Empress was intent on disrupting those talks between myself and my father, if not killing us both.”
“We were told that the Longknifes had violated a parley truce and seized the Emperor.”
“Kris, can you get my father on the horn, quick? That might settle a lot of this.”
“Nelly,” Kris said.
It was again night on Cuzco, but since a fleet was inbound, intent on lasing the Emperor to glowing magma, he was waiting up and still dressed in court garb.
“To all my people, I say that I am well, and free to come and go as I please,” Emperor Harry began.
Strange how the Imperial “we” becomes “I” when it gets deadly and personal, Kris thought.
The Emperor continued. “It is the Empress who has by nefarious means attempted to do harm to my body. My daughter, the Grand Duchess Victoria, and her friend, Princess Kristine of the United Society, have done me good service. Are there any questions any of you may want to ask me to assure yourself that I am truly talking for myself?”
No one had a question.
Surviving battleships, as well as cruisers and destroyers, quickly rendered their armament unusable and docilely set their course for High Cuzco Station.
69
“It is said that victory has a thousand fathers, but no one ever said how many traffic controllers it needed,” Captain Ajax said as she collapsed into a chair in Kris’s day quarters. “It’s a zoo out there.”
“Is Cuzco’s prime minister still demanding we keep half of the station’s piers clear for commerce?” Kris asked, offering her flag captain a cup of soothing chamomile tea.
“He is, and we’re insisting they follow the usual rule of first come, first served. Hell, Admiral Waller has got his ships rotating through the piers just as fast as they can load reaction mass. Oh, and Cuzco doubled the price of reaction mass. Again,” Ajax said through a scowl.
“Even after we sent four pinnaces out to gather reaction mass for them?”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re selling the reaction mass we brought in for free at four times the price it brought a week ago.”
“I do not like people taking advantage of my generosity.” For a moment, Kris stared at the overhead. “Okay. Send out all nine pinnaces this time and rig hosing so we can pass reaction mass to two ships at a time.”
“You going to refuel the Peterwald fleet well away from the station?”
“If it gets them out of here, yes.”
Captain Ajax put down her half-full cup of tea and headed up to her bridge.
Kris had already had a talk with Vicky and the Emperor about who paid for all the costs that had been going on Grampa Ray’s royal credit chit.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Vicky said. “We brought raw and polished crystal as well as electronics. It may not be as fancy as Wardhaven stuff, but it still ought to have a market. We also brought along some of the latest artwork from our painters and sculptors. I’m sure some of it will find a buyer. I’ll have that released immediately. With any luck, I’ll be able to pay half the expenses of this conference.”
“Harry?” Kris said. He still hadn’t shown any negative reaction to being treated so familiarly by a US Princess.
He scowled. “They’ve got a lien against the Emperor and Empress. Would you believe that? Until I pay my own bills here, they won’t let her go.”
“You really want to keep a tub with the late, unlamented Empress’s name on it?” Vicky asked.
Her father’s lips took on a sly smile as he looked Kris’s way. “I wonder what a fine yacht like that will bring on the open market, say above Wardhaven?”
Kris limited herself to a shrug. With Smart MetalTM all the rage, she doubted old, overblown scows like that one would maintain much of their popularity, or value, for very long.
“Vicky, could I manage a ride home with you?” he asked.
“Only if you’ll send ninety percent of those worthless hangers-on and all of the Empress’s lackeys home with the fleet.”
“Done,” he said.
Next day, Vicky told Kris that they’d found buyers for all of their crystal and electronics and a surprising portion of the art. “It seems there’s a retro movement, and the Empire’s art has been locked down by Dad and his grandfather for so long that we’re right where the nostalgia crowd is going.”
“You think the market will stay there?”
Vicky shook her head. “Not likely. If stuff comes flooding out of the Empire after we leave, it will likely be selling into a saturated market. But it was nice to us while it lasted.”
The next day, the Hall of Mirrors was rather comfortable and spacious for those who were still in attendance. A committee of five from each side had been working behind closed doors to hammer out a proposal that would be either accepted by Vicky and her father in toto, or rejected if either one of them objected to any part of it.
Vicky’s five included Mannie, Steve Rojek, a woman from Metzburg, Admiral Waller, and a businessman from a planet Kris had never heard of. The Emperor had chosen the fellow who answered the phone that night when the Emperor was otherwise occupied, the man who brought the hall to tears with his telling of the slaughter on Dresden, and three other men just as sober in their dress.
Their proposal was simplicity itself.
Emperor Harry would remain Emperor of the Greenfeld Empire.
The Grand Duchess Victoria was acknowledged as his rightful heir and upon his death or abdication would become the Empress.
For the time being, the Empire would be divided into two economic zones: one made up of the territory presently acknowledging the Emperor through the Grand Duchess and the other the rest. Trade between both zones would not be limited or taxed. At any time, but no more than every five years, any planet could vote, by a majority of those over eighteen, to change zones.
Imperial taxes were set at no more than ten percent of a planet’s GDP, with half of the money raised in Vicky’s zone going into a budget that she would manage. Planets would decide for themselves how to raise the money and were free to raise more for their own purposes.
There were a whole list of other things. How much or how little could be spent on defense, to include not just a Navy but an Army as well.
The presentation, rather wisely, paused before it was more than a quarter done and everyone went to an early lunch. People gathered around tables to talk to the writers. Kris’s brain trust, who seemed to know an awful lot about the proposal, were also in great demand.
Kris decided to go up the beanstalk and play with Ruth for the rest of the day.
The next day, she gaveled the morning session open, with each of the sides having ninety minutes to raise questions about the plan on the table. There was a rush from both sides to get the floor, so Vicky took the job of recognizing members of her delegation for five minutes, then yielding the floor to the senior writer from the Emperor’s side, who seemed to be in line to be the next prime minister.
In this fashion, the talks went on for three long, long days.
After lunch the second day, Kris announced supper would be at five, and there would be a three-hour session after dinner.
The third day, the evening session went all the way to midnight. That was when Vicky said she’d heard enough. “Dad.”
Someone had to wake the Emperor up.
“Yes, yes,” he snorted.
“Do you feel a need to hear more?”
“Ah, um, not really.”
“I’m willing to accept the proposal as it is before us. I’m also willing to meet with you and any interested party in two years to discuss changes. Your Highness, would you be willing to chair such a meeting?”
“Me?” Kris said, coming out of her thoughts of what
Ruthie must be doing about now.
“Yes, you. Who else do you think would do it?”
“Anyone else,” Kris suggested.
“Kris, I’m willing to outfit and send two squadrons of battlecruisers to Alwa’s defense using funds from my zone, assuming you will share with us the technology necessary to make them.”
Kris frowned at Vicky.
“Come on, BFF. If we’re going to be ready to kill any alien mother ship that shows up in our sky, we’ll have to build battlecruisers just like you do.”
“She’s got a point, Kris,” Jack whispered.
Kris sighed. “Okay, but if I’m pregger with our next one, Bub, you got to carry it while I’m sitting here.”
“We’ll use a uterine replicator next time,” Jack whispered. “No way I’m going through what you went through.”
“Men,” Kris and Vicky said, but they glanced at the men in their life with fond eyes.
70
A week later, Admiral, Her Highness Kris Longknife presented herself before Field Marshal McMorrison.
“Done already?”
“Yes, sir,” Kris answered smartly.
“So, I imagine you want a job.”
“Yes, sir. A desk job. One I can work at eight hours a day, five days a week, and go home to my daughter without taking the job with me.”
“I’ve never found one of those.”
“I’ve served my time in hell, sir. I think I deserve a little boredom, don’t you?”
The field marshal scowled. “Any thoughts on where I might find a job for you? You are wearing four stars, Your High- ness.”
“And I’m not giving them back.”
“I didn’t think you would. So?”
“I noticed that the Battle Force and Scout Force are still arguing where the battlecruisers fit in. The battleship Sailors say they’re ships of the line and belong to them and the cruiser type commander insists they fit right into his Scout Force.”
“And they’ve been arguing over that since the first one was launched. You got any ideas, Admiral?”
“Yes, Mac. I want the job of type commander for battlecruisers. That will make sure they get their own slot, not shoehorned into someone else’s hip pocket, where they can get lost, ignored, or misused.”
“That sounds like a job for a miracle worker. You realize you’ll be in the very middle of the budget battles. Spreadsheets at five paces.”
That gave Kris pause, but not enough for her to walk away.
“Nope, I’ll take the job. I’ve blown away alien base ships, I think a few entrenched bureaucrats shouldn’t be all that much trouble.”
Mac chuckled at that. “Kris, you can kill alien base ships. People will gossip at the watercooler if you kill your fellow admirals.”
“That’s a problem how?” Kris said with a straight face.
“I’m just saying.”
“Mac, I want a desk job. This looks like the kind of desk job that’s right down my alley. Unless you’ve got another nice desk job for me, I want this one.”
“No ship duty, huh?”
“Been there, done that. Got the medical bills to prove it.”
“You really think you can settle for a desk job?”
“Watch me.”
“You know, they’ve already started a betting pool for how long you’ll last. I’ve got the twenty-four-month slot,” the field marshal said with a grin.
“Tell me who’s holding the pot. I want the ticket that’s forever.”
Now Mac chuckled. “It will be interesting to see who wins.”
71
Kris answered the door chime herself at Nuu House. Waiting outside were Mother and Father as well as Honovi and his brood.
Father frowned. “You look mighty formal, dress blues and all those gewgaws, for a quiet afternoon supper with your family.”
Kris knew her smile was fay. “There are a few things to do before supper. Please follow me.” No one took their coats as she led them through the width of Nuu House, out the back door, then across the cobblestoned esplanade and down into the garden.
“What’s that?” Brenda didn’t quite demand.
“A small family get-together,” Kris said, as she led her parents down front to the chairs to the left of the aisle. The bride’s side.
Kris exchanged a quick smile with Jack’s mom and dad. He’d seated them and answered more of their questions than she had of her folks.
Taking a deep breath, Kris walked back up the aisle. Smiling and nodding at both those in the know and those still ignorant. Grampa and Gramma Trouble had managed to get Ray here. Who’s his plus one? I will need to get to know her.
Brenda’s own mother and father, he a professor at a university farther down the coast, had insisted on seats in the back row. Kris had always known her mother was a social climber. She rarely took her children to meet their grandparents on her side. I’ll have to make a special effort to build bridges there. It’s not as if I’m going anyplace tomorrow.
Kris smiled at that thought.
A few paces back from the chairs, Kris was met by Ensign Meg Longknife in dress blues. Beside her, in her very first formal, was Jack’s sister Estella. She was so excited she looked ready to jump out of her violet sheath dress that modestly rose to her neck. Three-quarter sleeves showed where she clutched her bouquet.
Kris had won extra wifely points from Jack when she took Estella dress shopping and nixed the strapless gowns the young woman had done her best to talk Kris into buying for her.
Megan handed Kris her bouquet as she joined her bridesmaids. She turned to face forward; Jack and the two chaplains had just gathered at the front. It saddened Kris that Jack had no one to stand up with him as best man. She’d run him pretty ragged and left him with few friends at hand.
Then again, most of the women Kris wished were here were scattered across the galaxy, too. Maybe we can learn to play bridge with couples our own age. Might even arrange some playdates with people who have kids Ruth’s age.
Kris was called out of her reveries when the organist began to play a march for the bridesmaids. The two began to process down the aisle.
Kris stared at Jack staring at her. Does he actually look nervous?
Heavens knows, they had enough to worry about just for this small, family wedding. Take the chaplains: one Catholic for Jack’s mom, one Episcopal for her folks. Kris was pretty sure Mother would not have accepted just the Catholic chaplain, so she’d balanced that. And Jack had already explained to his mother as he ushered her in that the Catholic priest would be doing all those parts required for a proper Catholic wedding, but that the Episcopal priest would be assisting everywhere it was allowed.
Kris had to chuckle softly. I managed to negotiate peace between the Peterwalds. I’m good for this, too.
Yeah, right.
The bridal march began. Kris took a deep breath and began the longest of short walks. Strange, she’d felt better, more accepted, among the Alwan colonials than she did here.
But I’m not on Alwa. I’m home, and I’m going to stay home. I will mend my fences and build some more, so I can stay right here and enjoy it.
She came out of herself when Jack smiled at her like some love-struck fool. She found herself smiling back, just as love-struck and just as much the fool.
The ceremony went quickly. She had a gold ring for Jack this time. He again used the simple gold ring he’d bought for her at the BX on Hellfrozeover long ago, when both of them feared that they might never see each other again. It wasn’t long before both the priests said, “You may now kiss the bride.”
There were cheers as they did, and another as they began the walk back up the aisle, arm in arm.
At the end of the aisle, a line of uniformed officers had formed, swords crossed to form a passageway for the couple. She’d wondered wh
ere Mac got the collection of admirals and generals who helped him form two surprisingly long rows. Kris suspected she’d be deep in budget battles with many of them soon enough; she fervently hoped the swords weren’t sharp.
She noticed that Mac had taken the last slot on her side. She eyed him, and mouthed, “I’ve already had my rump swatted,” but he kept staring straight ahead.
“Ouch,” Kris said, as Mac used his cake cutter to rap her on her backside. With intent.
She eyed him but then shook her head. Maybe she didn’t deserve this whacking, but, no doubt, before long, he’d be wanting to whack her upside the head or other place. She’d let him have this one.
Kris turned back to meet those who now filed down the aisle behind her. Lotty had outdone herself with the dinner awaiting them.
After dinner, there would be a small family gathering in the library, and the Catholic priest would baptize little Ruth Maria Brenda Anne Longknife. That would be her concession to both sides of the family. Maria got her granddaughter baptized, and Billy got another Longknife in the family.
What Ruth had to say about her name in eighteen years was hers to decide. She would have her mother’s support no matter what she chose.
Kris looked around at Nuu House. Over seven years ago, she’d fled the place with no intent of ever looking back. Somehow, she had come full circle. But it was a full circle that held so much.
She remembered the old chief who’d asked her why she was in her Navy. Kris hadn’t really known the answer then. Now she did.
This Navy was her Navy, too. And the Longknifes were her family, both the small one she’d made and the given one that milled around her today. She’d even made a dent in all of humanity, and even the galaxy.
All of it had brought her back to here.
Kris took a deep breath. She was home, and she liked it.
The End
Special Note to the Reader
Thirteen books ago, the Kris Longknife saga began as a coming-of-age story. Kris was a fresh-caught boot ensign, making all the mistakes you expect of a green JO. A retired Navy captain wrote me that in Kris Longknife: Mutineer I had captured the life of a junior officer and all the challenges a senior officer faces to properly lead and mentor that JO. That feedback made my day.
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