Redoubtable

41

Kris wasn’t actually reduced to hobbling about on a cane again. Not actually. She could hobble very well on her own two feet after Abby applied a balloon splint to her hurting ankle.

Abby was careful to select a clear splint.

“That way everyone can see how black-and-blue your ankle is. You might actually get some sympathy from the psychopaths you hang out with.”

“You, my fine feathered friend, are one of those psychopaths,” Kris shot back.

“Guilty as charged and delighted to be. Oh, and I’m alive. I understand the head psychopath ain’t.”

“Very ain’t,” Kris said with a shiver. She changed the subject. “How’s Cara?”

“Safe. More quiet than a girl that age should be. Very, very contrite. If you got anything you want that kid to do for you, ask now.”

“How bad was it for her?”

“She insists nothing happened. When have you heard that from a teenager? The docs did a full checkup. She is okay, but it must have been hell wondering every second of every day if, no matter how bad it was, was it about to get worse?”

Kris nodded. It went without saying that nothing like this should ever happen to a young kid like Cara.

Or to anyone for that matter.

Penny was still collecting evidence for the worst crimes they’d found, but the entire hellhole was a crime. How could justice ever be done for something like Port Royal?

“Cara knows there are counselors on board,” Kris said.

“Both of them were her friends before this happened. I think she’ll talk to them, friend to friend, then maybe for something stronger,” Abby said, then turned to Kris’s closet and returned with a brown skirt. No, it was a knee-length pair of shorts that were so wide and flowing that it easily passed for a skirt. Abby also held a loose, silk, off-the-shoulder top in gold.

“This ought to let you show off your black-and-blue ankle in fine contrast to good Mother Earth tones.

As Abby helped Kris dress, she went on. “Kris, I haven’t said thank you for letting me have Cara with us. I know a girl wouldn’t usually fit all that well on a warship, but Cara really needed me.”

“You can still say that after what just happened?”

“Kris, you didn’t see how the crew took to Cara’s coming back. This is her home, and Cara really needs to feel like someplace is home. Yes, something bad happened, but, Kris, growing up in Five Corners is just a long list of bad things happening. Here, she’s got a home, and I think seeing the long line of boffins and sailors waiting for her in the drop bay was the most healing experience she’s ever known.

“She’d quit crying by the time the longboat docked. She was still going over a mantra of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I won’t ever do that again.’ But when she saw all of them waiting for her, she broke down crying again. And those were the happiest tears I’ve ever seen in my life. Happy and healing. I wish you could have seen them.”

“I was kind of otherwise occupied,” Kris drawled.

“Yeah, you usually are at times like those. Baby ducks, you really ought to set aside time for the good times.”

“You can talk to my scheduling secretary.”

“Yeah, I will,” Abby said, and turned Kris around to see how close to beautiful she’d managed today.

Kris winced as she put weight on her bad ankle.

“Well, I just wanted you to know how grateful Cara and I are for you having us around. I hope you’ll keep us.”

“Um,” Kris said. Since next on her agenda was deciding what the Wasp would do in the future . . . and who would be going with it into the nasty unknown, Kris didn’t want to get too committal.

In the next hour, Abby might be running, not walking, for the nearest exit.

Abby seemed satisfied with the “Um.” She handed Kris one of her canes. “The doc said you ought to take some painkillers. But knowing you, I suspect this cane is the best I can offer.”

The party was in full swing by the time Kris limped into the Forward Lounge. The last of the Marines had been lifted back to the Wasp. They now formed a sea of khaki, occupying the right-hand side of the lounge. Sailors’ whites held the left. A couple of tables remained open in the middle.

From the farthest middle table, Jack raised a hand and signaled Kris to come. Marines and sailors on their way to and from the bar made respectful way for Kris as she wobbled her way to the table that usually had the best view of space.

At the moment, with the Wasp nosed into the space station, Kris’s view was of pipes, bulkheads that needed painting, and other less interesting stuff.

Jack seated Kris with her back to the view.

There was a soft drink waiting for Kris as she settled into her designated chair. Jack cleared a second chair for her ankle, giving it a place of honor. “You know, that’s about the only casualty we suffered today. Two drop injuries, but you’re the only one due to hostile fire.”

“I must speak to my security chief about getting me out of the line of fire more quickly next time,” Kris said.

“I’ve already talked to him about not letting you do stupid stuff next time,” her chief of security snapped back, but Jack was grinning. “No doubt you’ll ignore his sound advice,” he said, raising his beer stein in mock salute.

Kris raised her glass to clink against his.

Jack swallowed his smile and left his glass in the air. “We saw some real evil today. And we sent it to hell where it belonged.”

Lieutenant Stubben and Gunny Brown raised their beer mugs to clink against their captain’s. Kris added her own glass.

“To hell with them,” they said.

The toast caught on and swept around the room, Marine khaki and Navy whites raised their drinks to the same toast. “To hell with them.”

A shiver went down Kris’s spine. This was a good ending to a horrible day. This was what these fine people lived for. They had seen evil in the face of which even the deepest pit in hell would blush. Their commanders had given them weapons release, and they had done what they were trained to do.

The evil that was Port Royal was no more. Pure and simple, they’d wiped it from the face of this planet. A lot of it was dead and gone. Good riddance.

Penny and her forensic squad would stay dirtside as long as it took to collect evidence for the part of the evil that had avoided death today. With any kind of luck, they wouldn’t avoid it very long.

Kris sighed. No doubt it would be her job to decide how soon and how well the still-living minions got to keep breathing. She had a lot more work to do with her half-trained elephants.

She chuckled. She’d spent time with the elephants today and time with the line beasts. There was no doubt in her mind who she preferred. Still, one left her with an aching leg and the other just made her sense of justice cringe.

No question, she’d rather ache than cringe.

There was noise at the back of the lounge. Kris twisted around in her seat. The sight was well worth the effort.

Admiral Krätz was waving down those who would have rendered him formal honors. “This is a party. I came to party, not to disturb good fighting men and women at their play. Sit down, sit down, all of you.”

Krätz was the admiral; his undress greens made that clear to all. But it was the lieutenant at his side who was getting most of the attention.

Vicky was in a sedate, red cocktail dress. Kris had seen the dress in the online catalogues, and online it was in black and white. Sedate. Informal.

With Vicky’s looks and figure, there was no way that sedate stayed staid. Certainly not when the dress was hot cherry red.

Of course, Kris had seen Vicky in her wilder days on New Eden. Compared to the painted-on affairs Vicky wore then, this looked downright dowdy.

But then, on New Eden, she hadn’t walked into a roomful of young sailors and Marines.

It wasn’t the admiral who needed to order “As you were,” it was the lieutenant.

With just a hint of a nod from Jack, the LT and Gunny were on their feet. Jack stood, too, to signal the admiral and his shadow toward Kris’s table. They smiled as soon as they saw Kris and made their way to her.

The LT and Gunny stayed just long enough to be introduced to the admiral and Vicky, just long enough to accept his compliments on a day well done and for the young Marine officer and the old Gunny to thank the admiral for helping them avoid storming so well fortified a target . . . and for the admiral to insist it wasn’t anything big.

The LT left to get drinks for the admiral and Vicky. Gunny went to join the table where Command Master Chief Mong held sway, and Kris was asked to explain how things had really gone down at the N.S. tower that noon.

She did, making it clear to the Navy types present that being on the receiving end of 18-inch battle lasers should be reserved for other battleships that were designed to play in that league.

Not that they paid her any attention.

The admiral laughed as Kris described hiding under a desk that had narrowly missed reducing her to jelly. “But you yourself admit that you were in armored battle suits. All you had to do was clamp down your visor, and you had plenty of air to breathe.”

“So how come my ears were popping,” Jack pointed out.

“You should talk to your Wardhaven procurement people,” the admiral said without pausing in his laughter. “Something must be substandard.”

Kris had been at enough tables with high-powered politicians to know that the elephant here only wanted to hear how cunning he was and be thanked. Having survived the day, it was no skin off Kris’s nose to give him what he wanted.

“Well, I admit to being glad that my Marines didn’t have to storm that tower with all its autocannons and machine guns,” Kris admitted. “Vicky, did you see the hole in the ground your admiral made. Someone’s going to have to remap that lake.”

“No question about that,” Vicky agreed.

Rear Admiral Georg Krätz beamed in satisfaction.

“So, tell me,” Kris went on, “what happens next?”

“That will be very interesting,” the admiral admitted.

“Very complicated,” his lieutenant said, sipping her beer.

“Maybe, maybe not,” her superior said. “Have you ever visited one of the Navy colonies?”

Vicky shook her head.

“There are two of them, I think,” the admiral said. “They are colonies set up by the Navy. When I retire, you don’t think I want to raise chickens with just any bunch of neighbors, do you. No, I want to know I’ve got people I can count on. People I like. My kind of people.”

“So the Greenfeld Navy has set up planets for their own people to put down stakes on?” Kris said, more surprised than she wanted to admit. There was a lot Wardhaven didn’t know about Greenfeld.

As far as Kris was concerned, if she was the only one who found out about it, Admiral Crossenshield could get comfortable living in the dark.

“You got it in one.” The admiral laughed. “Who said Longknifes are dumb. Anyway, I think Port Royal will make a great addition to the collection of Navy colonies.”

“And N.S. Holdings won’t object?” Jack asked.

“There is no evidence that N.S. Holdings ever had any interest in this planet,” the admiral said with a sly grin.

“Not after the tower got turned into a pond,” Vicky said.

“Yes, yes. No evidence at all. That woman was claiming just this afternoon that they had filed a claim on this planet. We have finished our search of the records, and there is no such claim,” the admiral said with a grin.

That left Kris wondering. Had there been no such record, or was there no such record now?

NELLY?

I HAVE NO IDEA, KRIS. THAT’S MY STORY, AND I’M STICKING TO IT.

JUST MAKE SURE YOU DO STICK TO IT.

Kris turned back to the conversation. The admiral was describing some of the benefits of having Navy colonies. “You turn loose enough old goats, and it’s bound to get interesting.”

“You can’t all raise chickens,” Jack said.

“Oh no, there are those who raise cows for meat and cows for cheese. Some actually like to plow in the dirt and grow fruit and vegetables and things. No accounting for tastes even after thirty years with the fleet,” he said, distastefully.

“There wouldn’t happen to be any heavy industry on these planets?” Kris asked.

“God forbid,” the admiral said, raising his hand to elevate the pledge. “Besides, if you have spent your life around heavy weapons and high energy, you need something peaceful in your old age. Yes, maybe there is some light industry. Something to make toys for good-little-girl and -boy grandchildren. Anything else, no!”

NELLY, CALL UP THE SURVEY WE MADE OF THIS SYSTEM.

I HAVE IT, KRIS.

DIDN’T I NOTICE AN ASTEROID BELT? ONE RICH IN ALL KINDS OF METALS?

YES, KRIS. IF SOMEONE WANTED TO ESTABLISH A MAJOR NAVAL PRESENCE AND HEAVY-CONSTRUCTION FACTORIES, THEY HAVE EVERYTHING THEY NEED FOR IT OUTSIDE OF ANY STRONG GRAVITY WELL.

DO THE OTHER NAVAL COLONIES HAVE SUCH RESOURCES?

KRIS, I DON’T HAVE ANY PLANETS IN THE GREENFELD ALLIANCE THAT ARE LABELED NAVAL COLONIES. IT MAY BE THAT THEY HAVE OTHER NAMES, LIKE THIS ONE WILL LIKELY STAY PORT ROYAL. EITHER THAT, OR THEY HAVE AVOIDED OUR DETECTION. THEY ALSO AREN’T ON THE ITEECHE MAP THAT I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE.

THANK YOU, NELLY.

The conversation had taken a dark turn. Jack had pointed out that there were people on the planet who must know what was going on.

“Yes, and your Lieutenant Pasley has done a great job of building the evidentiary case against them and their crimes. Tomorrow, we will bury the merchant sailors they murdered with full honors. I expect there will be a lot of new filled graves around them. My Commander Fervenspiel is presently seating court-martials to hear the cases based on your lieutenant’s evidence.”

Kris nodded. Jack threw her a look. Kris made sure her face stayed carved in stone.

Inside it was different. PENNY, ARE YOU THERE?

IT’S GOOD TO HEAR FROM BOTH OF YOU.

HUH?

DO YOU TWO KNOW YOU BOTH JUST CALLED ME, KRIS, JACK?

NO, I DIDN’T, echoed in Kris’s head in both her and Jack’s voices. Getting the hang of Nelly and her kids’ net was still a work in progress.

SO, TO WHAT DO I OWE THE HONOR OF THIS CALL? AS IF I DON’T SUSPECT.

I UNDERSTAND THAT YOUR EVIDENCE IS BEING USED BY THE GREENFELD NAVY FOR COURT-MARTIALS.

YOU COULD SAY THAT, KRIS. I TEND TO SPELL THEM KANGAROO COURT.

IS IT THAT BAD?

IT’S NOT AS BAD AS IT WAS WITH THE PIRATES ON THE STATION. THEY AREN’T JUST LINING PEOPLE UP AGAINST THE WALL AND SHOOTING THEM. NOT QUITE. THE SLAVE OVERSEERS AND DRUG-PLANTATION MANAGERS ARE GETTING THEIR DAY IN COURT. WELL, FIFTEEN MINUTES. THEY CAN FACE THEIR ACCUSERS. LOOK AT THE EVIDENCE I’VE GATHERED. I GUESS THEY ARE PRETTY OPEN-AND-SHUT CASES, KRIS.

IT IS AGAINST GREENFELD LAW TO TRAFFIC IN SLAVES, PENNY.

I KNOW, I KNOW, KRIS. IF WE WERE BRINGING THEM UP ON CHARGES, WE’D PROBABLY GET TO THE SAME BOTTOM LINE. IT’S JUST THAT THE TIME FROM THE READING OF THE CHARGES TO THE VERDICT TO BEING TAKEN OUT AND SHOT IS LESS THAN AN HOUR. IN SOME CASES A WHOLE LOT LESS THAN AN HOUR.

KRIS, BACK HOME, WHEN I WAS GROWING UP, WE HAD THIS MINISTER WHO LOVED, EVERY YEAR, TO PREACH ON HOW WE SHOULD PRAY NOT FOR JUSTICE, BUT FOR MERCY. WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE WE’VE GOT JUSTICE HERE, BUT NOT AN OUNCE OF MERCY.

PENNY, IT DIDN’T LOOK LIKE THEY WERE SHOWING THOSE SLAVES MUCH MERCY, Jack offered.

I KNOW. I HEAR YOU. GIVE ME A BIT OF TIME TO PROCESS IT ALL, OKAY?

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

I’M HEADED BACK TO THE WASP, KRIS. THEY’VE GOT MY EVIDENCE. THEY DON’T NEED ME. ONE OF MY MARINES CAN HANDLE PRESENTING IT TO THE COURT.

WE’RE ALL CELEBRATING IN THE FORWARD LOUNGE. IF YOU WANT A CHANCE TO SLUG THE ADMIRAL IN THE JAW, THIS IS WHERE YOU WANT TO GO.

DON’T TEMPT ME, KRIS.

WHO’S TEMPTING? I’M OFFERING.

Kris found herself coming back to the conversation. There was more noise at the front door. Campbell and his XO, Kitano were arriving, along with the Marine detachment commander for the Dauntless. Taussig of Hornet was also there along with the command staff of the Fearless and Intrepid. There was much shouting of someone hogging all the fun and not getting their fair share of the exercise.

All in good humor.

Several tables were found to be empty and were slid together to join with Kris’s. Kris would have sworn that all the tables were full when she came in, but as arrangements were made to seat the others, she spotted how and why the Forward Lounge was gradually emptying out.

Command Master Chief Mong and Gunny Sergeant Brown had taken a commanding table in the middle of the lounge. From there, they had a good view of everything. As Kris watched, a Marine finished his second beer and raised his hand for a third.

As he expected, the barmaid headed his way. However, Gunny also had seen the order and noted the two beer mugs, with suds still foaming in front of him. A nod from Gunny to the Chief Master-at-arms, and two petty officers were at the kid’s elbow before the barmaid.

The trooper was long gone before the barmaid, herself a petty officer during working hours, got to his table. She removed the mugs and wiped down the table.

Marine or sailor, they got two beers today. Tomorrow’s duties would come soon enough, and no doubt the young men and women, away from home for the first time in their lives, would be ready to do their duty.

Kris also didn’t doubt that Gunny and Master Chief Mong were coordinating their efforts with the other pubs in Boffin Country. With nearly half the Wasp given over to civilians and their requirements, the Navy was making fine adjustments.

Which left Kris to wonder what should change, and what should stay the same if she did what she was planning to do.

She was lost in thought when she realized the admiral was talking to her. He’d ordered several bottles of vodka for his officers and had appropriated one of them for himself. No chief or Gunny was limiting his drinks tonight. From the looks of things, he’d need help back to his ship later.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“I was wondering what you are planning to do with those pirate ships you captured.”

“You were?” Kris said. As she understood matters, the schooners and the one merchant ship at the station had been captured by the Wasp and Dauntless. She planned to dispose of them under prize rules.

There’d been some grumbling from the Greenfeld Marines when they weren’t allowed to get in on the fun of their capture . . . or the money. Was the admiral trying to renegotiate the terms of their agreement.

“They’re yours to do with as you please,” he said, and seemed to realize that he needed to get that reassurance out front. “It’s just that they are tying up the three best piers on the station. The piers my battleships are at can’t give them nearly enough air and water or comm circuits. Your five corvettes and the Blood plus those three mean I don’t even have enough docks to tie up all my battleships much less the cruisers. Where are you planning on sending them for a prize court?”

“Not Cuzco,” Kris said, not needing a second to think on that.

Around the table, that got laughs. Apparently, Kris’s legal problems with the last ship she’d captured from pirates were well-known.

“Have you seen a dime from that?” Taussig asked.

“Not so much as a penny,” Kris said. She thought for a moment. “I guess we could send them to Pandemonium. I think their courts would take the right view of pirate ships.”

That seemed to get agreement.

“Course, there’s not much market for pirate schooners around the Rim,” Admiral Krätz pointed out. “At least not a market we want to feed.”

“I don’t know,” Jack Campbell said. “Capture them. Sell them back. Capture them again and sell them again. The right guy could make a career of it.”

That got a laugh.

“There is the possibility of my setting up an Admiralties Court right here on Port Royal,” the admiral said, sounding downright conspiratorial. “I might arrange for the Greenfeld Navy to buy two of the ships. Do you have any idea what we might do with the others?”

“I could be interested in one or two of the schooners,” Kris allowed. “If they are fast enough, the Royal Navy might have a need for schooners as messenger boats out beyond the Rim. Question is, do they have legs? Can they stay out for months at a time? What kind of shape are the schooners in?” she asked the admiral.

The admiral took time to share a victory toast before he answered. “I had a couple of officers take a look at them, all four of them. If the price was right, and we could get permission from Navy Headquarters, I’d like to buy one of the sloops and the freighter. We do need to get something out here to show the flag. Anyway, they all look pretty good. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they came from one of our premier yards.”

“But you know better,” Kris said.

“Why, my dear young lady, of course they couldn’t have come from one of our best yards. Our fine, upstanding businessmen would never do business with pirates, now would they?” he said, giving the table a sly wink as he downed another shot of vodka.

Vicky shook her head in disgust. “We know very well where they came from. Just because they did a good job of filing off the serial numbers and burning their papers . . .”

“But, Lieutenant, they did just that. Your father, our emperor, would never take action against such important financial interests with no evidence.”

“You took action this afternoon.”

“They fired on my delegated spokesman. I merely returned fire.”

Around the table, the newly arrived Royal U.S. Navy officers risked blank looks. Jack whispered, “Eighteen-inch battleship lasers within a thousand meters of my Marine company.”

“They’re on our side, right?” Campbell whispered.

“I wasn’t so sure at the moment,” Jack answered.

“Yes, yes, I know,” the admiral said. “There was some personal risk to you. But we have put an end to the slavers running this show and destroyed all the evidence. Now we can take over this colony and run it the way decent people do. Right?” he said, raising another toast at that thought.

“Right,” the Royal Navy said, for once in agreement with their Imperial opposites.

Vicky didn’t look any more sure of the toast than Kris did. Instead of lifting her mug, she reached inside her purse and pulled out a flimsy.

“What do you think of this article, Kris? ‘My friend the Iteeche.’ ”

Kris choked on her soft drink.