Audacious

47

Kris spotted the CEO of Nuu Enterprises on Eden and homed in on him at the hors d'oeuvre bar. ''An interesting guy you got as a president here.''

''He meets our need,'' the CEO said, a man no more presupposing than his planet's government. ''We can't all be Longknifes, and not every planet in space wants a legend calling the shots. If you don't mind my saying so.''

''I have learned to value diversity,'' Kris said. ''By the way, I've also learned about a fellow who's something of a player on Eden. A Grant von Schrader?''

''Him,'' the CEO huffed. ''Not exactly what I'd call a good example of our planet, but yes, he's a player. Oh, and he's here. You want to meet him?''

And before Kris could decide how to answer that, she found herself squired down the table into that meeting.

''Grant, have you met Kris Longknife?'' was followed by a pause that quickly grew pregnant.

The two eyed each other. Kris schooled her face to gentle neutrality and seemed to see the same in the face of the middle-aged man across from her. The conservative cut of his formal wear did not camouflage his ramrod military bearing—or his eyes.

Those were an icy gray that reflected back a cold calculation of the world…and gave away nothing about what lurked behind them. Someone could drown in the frigid water of those eyes, and the owner would take no notice.

Kris wondered what he saw looking back at him, but he reflected nothing to her.

''No, I have not had the pleasure, Henry. Thanks for bringing her over to my little corner of the world.'' seemed affable enough, taken word by word. The whole of the content came no where close to measuring up to its parts.

Kris offered him her hand and got a solid shake that seemed to offer to go long and tight, but held back.

Kris suppressed the temptation to tighten her own grip. If Grant was holding back, so would she.

''The sunset was quite red tonight,'' Kris said, turning to the weather for her innuendo.

''I noticed the river was running red in return. It can be very lovely at those times,'' he answered back.

And for a moment, just a split second, Kris saw the heart of a man who would delight in a river running red with the blood of the bodies it floated.

This was no man to leave the future of a planet to.

And in that moment, Kris made her decision.

There would be no retreat tonight. She and hers would fight this man. Fight him for the hopes and dreams of a world of people like Cara and Bronc, Uncle Joe and Auntie Mong and all the store owners like themselves struggling to make a living and hold the line for some minimum of civilization.

And certainly for a cop like Martinez. He who tried.

For them, Kris would risk flesh and blood to stop whatever monster lurked in the heart of the man before her.

''You have lost security,'' Kris said, doing her bit to dent the confidence of the man she faced. ''Some of us know what is going down tonight. You will not succeed.''

Grant von Schrader might have raised an eyebrow at that. Or not. Instead he turned to the woman beside him. A lovely dusky-eyed woman. ''Have you met Topaz.''

''No,'' Kris said, offering her hand again. The woman took it gently in a gloved hand.

KRIS, THAT IS ABBY'S MOTHER.

I KNOW, NELLY. CAN YOU TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT HER?

SHE IS NOT SQUAWKING. BUT I THINK THAT'S BECAUSE SHE IS NOT CARRYING. I DETECT NO HUM OF ANY ELECTRONICS.

That would certainly be unusual for anyone.

Kris waited to see how this would develop, but it was Grant who said. ''I think I see someone I should talk to. Henry, if you and this lovely lady will excuse me.'' And with a half bow, the man was gone and the woman with him.

The Nuu CEO watched him go. ''Would you mind telling me what that was about? ‘You will not succeed.' ''

''It's a Longknife thing. And here's another Longknife thing. Leave. Do not look back. Do not hesitate. If you want to live a long life, be somewhere else as quickly as you can.''

The CEO shook his head ruefully. ''My contacts warned me that you were strange. If you will excuse me, I see some folks I need to spend time with,'' he said, and headed off in a direction that did not have any door close by.

''Some people are just too dumb to live,'' Jack said softly.

''No,'' Penny disagreed. ''They are comfortable living in the normal and cannot believe that there is any other way.''

''Wouldn't it be nice if their way was the only way?'' Commander Malhoney offered.

''Well, I don't think tonight has any chance of going that way. Jack, did you get a good look at our Grant von Schrader?''

''And I didn't like what I saw. That guy's been in uniform. If he's been here for fifteen years and still has that look of sharp steel about him, I think we would be wise not to underestimate him.''

''Nelly, send out the code word. Play ball.''

''Sent, Kris.''

And that settled the matter. Any chance that Kris might cancel tonight was now gone.

In the car park, grim Marines would be swapping out of dress uniforms for camouflage sniper kits. Others would be wandering off from the close patrol around Kris's limo and the two Marine rigs to set up their own observation points, reverting to the oldest warrior skill set, checking out the developing situation with the Mark I eyeball.

Captain DeVar got the code word, as he had expected. His reading of the history books was that Ray Longknife was hard on subordinates. As in, he lost a lot of them.

He had been none too excited about putting his Marines into the tender hands of another such legend on the make.

But this young woman surprised him.

This Longknife noticed the people around her and took them in as more than cannon fodder. And she actually seemed worried about kicking butt and taking names here on Eden.

When she'd let on that she just might call tonight off, he'd been happily surprised.

So her decision not to call it off told him that something up there settled her final reservations. And there was no doubt that here was a good cause for knocking heads and taking names.

The call came at a good time for the captain. He had his two platoons lined up below the water's edge. Two squads spread out on each side of him. One squad in reserve on his right and on his left. Technical support behind the reserve.

The Marines were ready.

''Gabby, show me something I don't know,'' he ordered.

The tech let a small float loose on a thin wire. It would have looked funny if he'd thought about it. Here was a big fish sending up a hook to that upper world. Only here, the hook was a camera.

Now Captain DeVar saw his target up close. The building was big, stone, and ugly. Several trucks, from a caterer if you could believe the signs on them, were backing into the service entrance to the left. Lights were still showing bright in the Gallery from every window. Several balconies showed people holding drinks and party plates.

Well, it was party time.

The Marine transferred his attention higher up. The roof of the place was festooned with antennae. Most were the usual communication clutter. He concentrated on the others.

Two, one at each corner of the building, were targeting sensors. A closer search showed him eight, no nine, auto-guns scattered along the roof line. They'd be slaved to the sensors, probably with someone in security central with his finger on the release button.

Right now, the button had to be under the thumb of a friendly. Dumb, yes, but a good guy. When it passed to the thumb of a bad guy, things would get bad for anyone caught in the open.

''Gabby, pass this picture to the front team. Advise them to check out the roof and stand by to take down their sensors. Can you identify any cameras?''

''Not at this time, sir. I don't think they've got them on. I'd say they're going for motion detection and radar. Maybe some infrared. But no sensors active other than those two suites at the corners, sir.''

Which meant tonight would be a study in slowly developing hell.

Captain DeVar signaled his troops to settle in place and wait. Marines were good at waiting.

Abby had had enough of waiting. She tapped her computer; it woke up Cara's phone a second time. A green blip appeared.

''She's two blocks up, one over to the right.'' And then Abby held on as Sergeant Bruce took a hard right and made the turn.

Abby would have waited for the next right.

Abby would have been wrong.

A screeching left put them on the right street. A tiny figure was walking along, head down, shoulders weighted by the whole burden of a world as only a twelve-year-old can carry it.

Bruce accelerated even as he said, ''We got company.''

Four blocks up, a car did a slip-sliding turn into the street and gunned its motor. Abby squinted, tried to make out driver and passengers.

''Guns,'' she said, the same second Bruce did. And her own automatic was out. She jacked up the power to maximum and flipped the magazine to deadly.

Bruce rolled her window down as she went through the drill, so all she had to do was lean out. Good thinking on his part.

There was an arm out of the passenger window of the approaching car.

Abby fired for the passenger window.

The other people noticed that they weren't alone on the street and changed their aim from the kid to the onrushing car.

That fit Abby fine. She swept her fire right to the driver, then back to the gunner. Beneath Abby, she could feel her own car shuddering as it was hit.

Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw Cara go down. Whether the girl was down smart or down hit would be determined later.

Beside Abby, Bruce struggled to keep control of the car, but it was fishtailing.

''They're going to run Cara down,'' Abby shouted as the other car began to swerve and slide out of control.

Abby found a firm hand on her slacks, yanking her back in the car even as the rig began a painfully long, slow swerve on a collision course for the other car.

A course that would intercept it a good five feet before the shooter could hit the girl.

Abby braced herself.

The crash wasn't nearly as bad as Abby expected.

Yes, there was the bouncing around the inside of the car as it fell apart, and smooth things became pointy things that cut.

And her brain must have bounced off the inside of her skull at least two, maybe three, times.

Still, all in all, it beat a jab in the eye with a sharp stick.

Barely.

And it had its nice part. Bruce dragged her out of the rig firmly, but gently. Then he felt her all over for broken bones and bleeding arteries.

He could have done it so much better, feeling her up, but he was professional about it. Abby would have to schedule time to show him how to unprofessionally take advantage of a girl.

But that would have to wait for later.

Abby was dragging herself out of Bruce's touch, and crawling on her hands and knees to Cara.

''You okay, kitten?''

''I think I got hit,'' the girl whispered.

To an insistent ''Where?'' the girl raised an arm.

Yep, she'd been creased by a stray round, flying glass, rock, hard to tell. Abby pulled a bandage from her usual supply and stanched the bleeding while calling over her shoulder, ''Sarge, you think you can get the car going?''

That was followed by a starter turning, but no sound of anything cooperating. ''I think we're afoot.''

''Advise Commander Tordon that shots have been fired, Cara has a flesh wound, and we're afoot.''

''Yes, ma'am'' came back solid Marine, followed by ''Gramma Ruth says she'll try to send us wheels but not to count on it. Kris has ordered ‘play ball,' but so far there's no report of ‘batter up.' ''

''Play ball'' did not surprise Abby. The Kris Longknife she knew would not leave a planet to drop into the hands of someone who tried to shoot old ladies and kids. But it was nice working for a boss who needed convincing that people needed killing.

''Tell Ruth that we'll manage our own wheels, or we'll ride the tram back.''

Bruce did, then grinned at Abby. ''You gonna hot wire a rig or me?''

''Which of us will take the longer?'' Abby said, tightening the bandage down around Cara's arm. ''Does that hurt?''

''Not much,'' Cara said as Bruce gently helped her to her feet. ''You wouldn't boost a car, would you, Aunt Abby?''

The look of moral confusion in those young eyes bothered Abby. But not enough to consign her and hers to the tram.

''Baby ducks, we really need to get back to the embassy, and we really need to have a doc look at that cut arm.''

''Don't call me ‘baby ducks.' That what Gramma Ganna calls me. I have to take it from her. And I thought you were different.''

''I am, Cara, but right now I'm not sure I can afford not to boost some wheels.''

''Why don't you ask Uncle Joe for his truck? He might lend it to you.''

''I didn't think of that,'' Abby said. And between the two of them and their blackened hearts she could probably explain to the old fellow the importance of her leaving a bruise on his skull, and hot wiring the rig.

Abby let Cara lead them to the familiar street corner, followed by Bruce as soon as he checked to make sure there were no survivors from the other car.

Uncle Joe listened quickly as Cara gave him her version of what was going on, then took Abby aside.

''I hear strange things are happening around town tonight.''

''I know that only too well. The shots just fired were us trying to keep some thugs from running Cara down, turning her into a drive-by.''

''It is disgusting when good children get mowed down by things they have nothing to do with.''

''We need to get her to medical care.''

''Take my truck,'' the old storekeeper said, offering keys.

''I cannot do that,'' Abby said. ''It was no accident that Cara was marked for death, and I, as well as my tall friend here, are players in the things that you are hearing about. If you are seen to be taking our side, it could cost you your life.''

The old man frowned. ''Then I may have to walk into a door and give myself cuts and bruises I can show off.''

''We could hit you carefully.''

''It would not be good for Cara to see you do that. No, you take the keys and go. I think Mong across the street can give me the wounds I need to show if things go as you say they could.''

And so it was that Bruce bounced his way out of Five Corners with a lot less horsepower than he gunned his way in.