Furious

11

Kris was glad for Penny’s company as she waited to see what lay ahead of her that evening. The Archie caught a tie-down at High Eden on the first pass, and the station pulled her smartly into dock. The air locks matched; Kris’s ears felt the tiny change as the Archie adjusted to High Eden’s ever-so-slightly-different air pressure.

Then nothing happened.

Nothing happened for ten solid minutes.

“Think we should make a run for it?” Penny asked.

Kris frowned. She was ready for a lot of things. A delay was not one of them. After a moment’s reflection, Kris shook her head. “Shot while trying to escape isn’t a part of the Longknife legend, and I, for one, don’t intend to add it.”

Penny nodded.

They waited a bit more.

Then two men in civilian clothes presented themselves at the pier, police credentials in clear sight.

“You know either of these two jokers?” Captain Luna asked over the net.

“Yeah,” Kris said. “The short one is Police Lieutenant Juan Martinez. He and his Fraternal Order of Proud Caballeros helped me quite a bit last time I was here. The other guy is Inspector Johnson of the New Eden Secret Service.”

“That’s pretty much what they say, except Martinez is now Senior Chief Inspector Martinez.”

“He certainly earned the promotion,” Kris agreed.

“Do I let them in?”

Kris considered for all of five seconds. These two were not the ones she would have sent to haul herself away in cuffs. Also missing were the search dogs and other apparatus that would have been needed to do a real dust down of a ship the size and complexity of the Archimedes IV.

“Have someone bring them to me,” Kris said.

“Will do.”

Kris turned to Penny, who had returned wearing a pantsuit with enough pockets to stash half a jewelry store in . . . or hide a major electronic suite. “I forgot to ask, is New Eden one of the hundred and fifty planets I’m wanted on for crimes against humanity?”

“Kris,” Nelly drawled, “I would have warned you if it was. And you’re up to a hundred sixty-three planets. Some have judiciaries that require due process.”

“One hundred and sixty-three.” Penny whistled. “How many more are still processing?”

“Twelve,” Nelly said, “and no, New Eden isn’t one of them either. If you ask me, despite the haste with which they rushed you out, you did leave a good impression.”

“We’ll find out soon enough. Penny, come sit beside me. Suite, can you move two chairs to in front of me?” While Kris clearly occupied the senior chair in the suite, two chairs equal in size and comfort to Penny’s moved from beside a couch to where Kris wanted them. They were in front of her, but with plenty of room for people first to stand in her presence.

Kris intended to get all the mileage out of her princess card that she could. The colors of the chairs changed: Kris’s to a royal red and gold, Penny’s to royal blue and gold. The other two chairs were more sedate earth tones.

NELLY, DID YOU DO THAT?

NOPE. YOU DO REMEMBER WHO OWNS THIS TUB?

RIGHT. REMIND ME WHEN I FINALLY GET A ROYAL YACHT TO ASK LUNA WHERE SHE GOT HER PROGRAMMING.

YOU BET, Nelly added with open professional respect.

Captain Luna, herself, ushered the police officers in. Penny stood. Kris stayed seated. The skipper almost suppressed her grin as Kris offered Senior Chief Inspector Martinez her hand. He gallantly bowed over it, said, “Your Highness,” and kissed it.

Inspector Johnson studiously did not see that, and merely said, “Ms. Longknife.”

“Commander, I think, is appropriate,” Kris said, motioning the men to their chairs.

Luna whistled, and a third chair headed their way, changing to earth tones as it moved, until a low whistle from the captain switched it to blue and gold to match Penny’s. The four settled into their chairs . . . and silence.

Kris wondered how long the hush would last but lacked the time for that kind of fun. She broke it with a question. “I understand you seek a fugitive from the law?”

“Yes,” Johnson said, clearly jumping in without the approval of the senior chief inspector, who rewarded his intervention with a sour frown. “Wardhaven has issued an arrest warrant for you. You are a deserter.”

“‘Deserter’?” Kris said. “I thought you had to be absent without leave for at least thirty days before they started using that nasty word.”

“That was my understanding, too,” Penny said.

“I can read you the relevant portion of the UCMJ,” Nelly added.

“And, if I recall correctly, I signed out for sixty days leave. I know it was approved. I approved it myself,” Kris said, with the most winsome smile she could manage.

“As commander of Fast Patrol Squadron 127,” Nelly primly pointed out, “Kris has the delegated authority to sign all leave requests. That includes her own.”

“That may have slipped someone’s notice,” Inspector Johnson noted.

“No doubt,” Kris agreed.

Senior Chief Inspector Martinez noticed how close Captain Luna was coming to splitting a gut at this military-law comedy, and chose to cough gently. “No doubt the warrant has more to do with certain U.S. officials not wanting a certain princess traipsing around human space and less about the fine points of the law.”

“I think you may have hit the nail on the head,” Kris said, trying to make the observation sound as vacuous as possible.

“So, gentlemen,” Captain Luna said, “I could enjoy this show all night, but I do have this ship, and it does need to be gallivanting around human space, and at the moment, it ain’t doing any gallivanting at all.”

“Yes,” Kris said, standing. “What do we want to do? With me or otherwise?”

“If I had my way,” Inspector Johnson said caustically, “I’d chain you to this boat and send you off to wherever it takes you.”

“But you aren’t going to have your way,” Senior Chief Inspector Martinez said.

He offered Kris his arm. “Your Highness, if you will come with me, several very important people wish to meet you. There are certain matters of great import to discuss.”

Kris took his arm. “Why, Juan, you never talked that way last time my shadow darkened your door.”

“He wasn’t a senior chief inspector,” Inspector Johnson observed.

“And Her Highness hadn’t saved our lovely planet from overthrow and enslavement, right, Alex?”

Inspector Johnson did not honor that question with an answer.

The two Navy officers, the two police types, and two of Abby’s steamer trunks exited the Archimedes IV with all due decorum and haste. The Archie was backing out of dock before Kris and her party had ridden the escalators from the pier to the main deck of the space station.

“I forgot to thank her,” Kris said.

“No doubt you can when she sends you a bill,” Penny said.

“If that space scoundrel can figure out an address to send it to,” Inspector Alex Johnson observed sourly.