Emissary
Date: 2017-07-09T18:00:00+00:00
Description: Kris Longknife has discovered that this desk job is not at all what she expected. Being desk bound hasn't even decreased the number of assassination attempts! Then Kris gets home to find her two kids playing with an Iteeche. Ron has come back to human space with a request. Should Kris take it? Can she finally get some straight answers from her Grampa Ray, known as King Raymond to most? Does she risk taking the kids into a situation with a whole lot of unanswered questions? What could go wrong? Kris knows something will go wrong. Something always goes wrong. **
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

Kris Longknife – Emissary

By

Mike Shepherd

Kris Longknife has discovered that this desk job is not at all what she expected.  Being desk bound hasn't even decreased the number of assassination attempts!  Then Kris gets home to find her two kids playing with an Iteeche.  Ron has come back to human space with a request.  Should Kris take it?  Can she finally get some straight answers from her Grampa Ray, King Raymond to most?  Does she risk taking the kids into a situation with a whole lot of unanswered questions?  Oh, and what can go wrong?  Kris knows something will go wrong.  Something always goes wrong.

Published by KL & MM Books

May, 2017

Copyright © 2017 by Mike Moscoe

All right reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction set 400 years in humanity’s future.  Any similarity between present people, places or events would be spectacularly unlikely and is purely coincidental.

This book is written and published by the author.  Please don’t pirate it.  I’m self-employed.  The money I earn from the sales of these books allows me to produce more stories to entertain you.  I’d hate to have to get a day job again.  If this book comes into your hands free, please consider going to your favorite e-book provider and investing in a copy so I can continue to earn a living at this wonderful art.

I would like to thank my wonderful cover artist, Scott Grimando, who did all my Ace covers and will continue doing my own book covers.  I also am grateful for the editing skill of Lisa Muller, David Vernon Houston, Edee Lemonier, and, as ever, Ellen Moscoe.

Rev 1.0

Note to long time readers of Kris’s saga.  Due to the limitations that impact self-published books, the small caps that has highlighted talk on Nelly Net has been replaced ALL CAPS BUT IN A SMALLER FONT.

Contents

Chapter 1.. 6

Chapter 2.. 12

Chapter 3.. 20

Chapter 4.. 24

Chapter5.. 34

Chapter 6.. 38

Chapter 7 43

Chapter 8.. 48

Chapter 9.. 52

Chapter 10.. 57

Chapter 11.. 62

Chapter 12.. 67

Chapter 13.. 70

Chapter 14.. 74

Chapter 15.. 77

Chapter 16.. 80

Chapter 17.. 84

Chapter 18.. 92

Chapter 19.. 97

Chapter 20.. 100

Chapter 21.. 107

Chapter 22.. 113

Chapter 23.. 117

Chapter 24.. 121

Chapter 25.. 124

Chapter 26.. 128

Chapter 27.. 131

Chapter 28.. 136

Chapter 29.. 140

Chapter 30.. 143

Chapter 31.. 144

Chapter 32.. 149

Chapter 33.. 153

Chapter 34.. 157

Chapter 35.. 162

Chapter 36.. 166

Chapter 37.. 170

Chapter 38.. 174

Chapter 39.. 180

Chapter 40.. 183

Chapter 41.. 188

Chapter 42.. 193

Chapter 43.. 196

Chapter 44.. 197

Chapter 45.. 199

Coming Attractions.. 203

Chapter 1

Her Royal Highness, Admiral Kris Longknife slid into the back seat of the provided government limo.  Jack was already there.  He held out an arm and she slipped into a hug, then kissed him hungrily on the cheek.  He turned his head and she ended up kissing him fully on his lips.  Her tongue begged entry and he let it slip in to meet his tongue.  For a long minute, they played together.

Finally, Kris had to come up for air.

“Really bad day?” Jack asked.

“Horrible.”

“I heard the budget came out.”

Jack, being just a lieutenant general, wouldn’t see anything for a day or two.  Maybe more.  Her Royal Highness, Admiral Kris Longknife took the full brunt of the budget battles, naked, ugly and soonest.  She was the type commander for battlecruisers.  It was a bureaucratic job. She didn’t get to command anything; she just got to do the budget and write policy and doctrine for the use of the new type of warship.

Write policy and doctrine that was still unapproved after five years of her pushing it uphill like cooked spaghetti.

“Yeah, the budget is out.  I can’t talk about it, but you better take me to bed early and do all kinds of things to me or I’m going to start blowing things up tomorrow.”

He kissed her again, and Kris began to relax under his loving attention.  With every breath she took, the tension of the day slipped out of her.  Evenings and nights like this were what made her days bearable.

She was actually starting to feel loose, loved and wonderful.

“Incoming missile,” Nelly said from Kris’s collarbone.  “Defenses activated.”

Kris threw herself forward into the car’s foot well.  Jack landed heavy atop her, doing his best to cover every part of her with his body.

Nelly, the Magnificent Nelly as she told anyone who would listen, had been a gift to Kris on her first day of school.  Rather than buy a shiny new one each year, Kris had upgraded her familiar one.  Nelly had been upgraded more times than Kris could remember.  One of those upgrades had involved a bit of data storage from a multi-million-year-old alien supercomputer.  Now Nelly argued with Kris and told horrible jokes.

She also synced in with any network around Kris.

Currently, the car’s anti-missile defense system was operating way beyond specs as Nelly acquired the incoming missile, slaved the laser just coming up from the lid of the trunk to its target, and fired.

The laser hit the incoming missile a good two hundred meters from the limo, but a mess in motion tends to stay in motion.  The laser kept the missile in its sights, spitting out a burst of coherent light sixty times per second.  Nelly and the laser converted the incoming missile into a collection of junk flying in loose formation.

It was that junk plus flaming rocket fuel that splattered itself on the back window of the limo.

The window, in fact the entire limo, was made of Smart MetalTM.  It was all programable matter that Nelly had totally control over.

As directed, the window thickened up even as it bowed inward under the pressure of the hit.  Some parts of the rocket, either its motor or its warhead, likely both, caught fire.  Nelly added more matter from a cylinder under the middle seats, using its contents to strengthen the window even as it built a much larger laser on the top of the limo.

The defensive sensors had tracked the incoming rocket and backtracked it to its point of origin.  Nelly took a look at the launcher, found no civilians near it, and shot back.

The launcher took it on the nose.  The front of the rocket launchers barrel got hit with just enough energy to warp the metal of its barrel, but not enough to destroy any evidence the investigators might turn up.

Nelly had a lot of experience responding to attacks with just enough force to prevent more while still leaving something for Special Agent Foile and his team to go over.

The attack had been too fast for the driver to initiate evasion action.  Jack was pulling himself off of Kris before she really had a chance to do much more than contemplate her fate.  Here she was, a princess, an admiral, and a Longknife.  She’d spent the last five years of her life at a nice, unthreatening duty and still somebody wanted her dead.

Or did they?

Was that missile attack intended to kill her or just get her attention?

She and Jack dusted off their uniforms and settled back in their seats.  By now, the back window was back to being a clear expanse of glass, just as clear and undamaged as any other car on the road.  Nelly would never allow Kris’s limo to look bad.

Whatever chunks of the missile that had survived the laser and its self-immolation were now packaged and boxed up in the trunk ready for transport to the Secret Service lab.

Kris and Nelly had developed quite a routine.   One they’d gone through way too many times.

“Who do you think that was from?” Jack asked, trying to be casual.

“Hard to tell,” Kris answered just as matter-of-fact.  “The Peterwalds aren’t after us anymore.  Now we’re allies.  There may be a few factions in Greenfeld that still have their nose out of joint, but I don’t see them doing anything to get me mad.”

“And?”

“I have no idea, Jack.  If it’s anything like the other five attacks in the last three months, we’ll find that the launcher was overage and surplus.  It was sold off to a reputable dealer to be demilitarized and reduced to its base metal and chemicals.  How any of them got out of the proper channels is still something Foile is investigating.  Everyone involved has the highest security clearance.”

“Don’t most spies have high security clearances?”

“Yeah.  It goes with the job,” Kris answered, and snuggled up next to Jack.  He put his arm around her, but the feeling was gone.  It’s hard to be sexy when you’ve just been reminded that someone wants you dead.

They’d been driving around in this camouflaged tank with two Marines up front ever since someone took a pot shot at Kris’s brand new car nearly five years ago.  She had been driving Jack and Ruthie to Main Navy.  She and Jack were going to work, Ruthie was headed for another day of daycare close by so Kris could breast feed her when the need arose.

Maybe not for the baby’s needs, but Kris’s full boobs.

The hidden road side bomb had blown in Jack’s side of the car and they’d flipped over twice before coming to rest.  Ruthie’s safety seat, designed by Nelly, worked perfectly; the infant thought it was great fun.  The safety equipment on the car kept them in place as they rolled over and over.  The explosion caved in Jack’s door, dislocating his shoulder and breaking an arm.

On investigation, Special Agent Foile and his reinforced team concluded the explosives used in the bomb were overage and did not explode at full force.

Kris and Ruthie followed Jack to the hospital, waited while he was set right, then rode home in an armored limo with two Marines seated in the front seat and a Marine gun truck traveling fore and aft of them.

It was Nelly that suggested they replace the existing limo with one constructed of Smart MetalTM that she could manipulate in a split second.  After the limo survived three attacks without any of its passengers any the worse for the wear, the Marine gun trucks were dispensed with.

Or maybe not.  On occasions, Kris caught sight of Marines in some of the cars in traffic around them.

Today, she and Jack took a while to get into the normal flow of their ride home.  Usually Kris would debrief Jack on her day, then he would share his.  They did their very best to arrive home with their minds cleared of the day’s wreckage and both of them ready to devote time to themselves and two rambunctious darlings.

Ruth was rapidly approaching her sixth birthday and was becoming quite the young lady, when she wasn’t climbing trees and getting into mischief with the neighborhood kids.  Young John Junior had just turned four and did his best to keep up with his big sister.  The poor fellow had the scrapes and bruises to show for it.

Kris had the Marines drop them off at the front portico.  Even from outside, Kris could hear Johnnie’s happy giggles.  Ruthie was shrieking in delight.  Clearly, the kids were enjoying themselves.   Jack opened the door for her and she got ready to be hit by two boisterous, small cannon balls.

Both darlings were in the middle of the foyer, swinging around as if on a merry-go-round.  A merry-go-round created by the four arms of an Iteeche!

Granny Rita would have pulled her automatic and shot the Iteeche dead.  She, and any other veteran of the Iteeche War were on a hair trigger where this four legged, four armed, four eyed species was concerned.  They remembered when the Iteeche would have driven the humans to extinction, but for their sacrifices.

Kris, however, knew different.  While spending a couple of months with an Iteeche representative from the Imperial Court, she’d discovered that the Iteeche War veterans on the other side were absolutely sure that they had saved the Iteeche from the genocidal humans.

It had been an enlightening experience for both of them.

But seven or so years back, desperation had driven the Iteeche Emperor to send an envoy to King Raymond I.  The Iteeche were losing exploration ships and feared what was lurking out in unexplored space.  Kris’s circumnavigation of the galaxy had been the result of that . . . as well as her discovery of the alien raiders.

Quite by accident but with full intent, she had started a war.

All those thoughts flashed through Kris’s mind as she watched an Iteeche swing her kids around, holding them both tightly in his arms.

“Ron, is that you?”  Like all humans, Kris had trouble telling them apart since all of them looked the same.  Kris had learned the Iteeche had the same problem with humans.

“Yes, Princess Longknife, I have again the honor of meeting you face to face,” he said, still swinging the kids, but using that strange Iteeche neck to keep himself face to face for most of the twirls.

The kids were screaming “Mommy, mommy,” with glee but making no attempt to stop their own fun as they continued to fly a good six feet off the floor.

Kris let the fun continue as she tried to puzzle out what an Iteeche of the Imperial Court was doing in the foyer of her house giving her kids the most fun ride of their young lives.

For the near ninety years since the war ended with the Treaty of the Orange Nebula, hammered out by Kris’s great grandfathers Ray Longknife and General Trouble, the two species had kept their distance.  Kris had thought that included no contact until Ron showed up knowing a lot more about present human politics than isolation should have allowed.

Of late, the Iteeche had shared their unique way of getting many times the power from a given reactor as humans got, and we had shared the secret of Smart MetalTM.  You could find a tiny Iteeche colony on several space stations building critical defense projects.

But none had ever come down to a human planet.  The risk was just too great.

Make that no Iteeche until one decided to give Kris’s kids the wildest swing ride of any kid in human history.

Kris cautiously covered the distance to Ron and the children.  Only with mommy at arms’ reach did Johnnie turn his attention from Ron to her.  On the next turn, he reached out to Kris and grabbed a hold of her outstretched arms.

Kris hugged him to her breast as he giggled happily.

A moment later Ron swung Ruth right at her and she managed to reach an arm out to pull the six-year-old in.  Ruth switched from her delighted scream to, “Mommy, mommy, isn’t Mr. Ron great?  He can make us fly!”

“Yes, your Uncle Ron is the bestest fun ever,” Kris replied, giving Ron the full family honor.  “How long have you been flying with your Uncle Ron?”

“For hours and hours,” Johnnie put in.  His four-year-old mind was having trouble with the concept of time.

Oh, for the simple life of a little kid.

“He can swing us longer than you or Daddy,” Ruth added.  “And higher, too.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to see how long he can stay,” Kris said.  “Will you stay for dinner?”

“Yes, if you are so kind.  I had my driver drop off a container of my preferred food with your kind Mrs. Lotty, but if you would prefer I dine on your food, I can manage that.  We have found an enzyme that allows us to process even your burned food.”

“There is no need,” Kris said.  “I think we’ve raised the kids to be open to different experiences.  Let’s see how they handle this one.”

“New ek-pher-ience” Johnnie said, adding a new word to his often-mangled vocabulary.

“Experiences,” Kris gently corrected.  “Nelly, how long until dinner?”

“Mrs. Lotty,” Nelly said from Kris’s collar bone, and giving Lotty the cook her new formal title, “will have dinner on the table just as soon as the short people can wash their hands.”

“Well, let’s wash our hands, then,” Kris said, and Johnnie set to wiggling out of her arms.  She set him down, and both he and his sister galloped for the nearest downstairs bathroom.  Kris followed, with Jack and Ron right behind her.

“So, what brings you to Wardhaven?” Jack asked.

Kris stood in the door supervising from a safe distance as water and soap flew with the enthusiasm that only children can bring to the work of getting themselves clean.  Behind her, the conversation between Jack and Ron continued.

“My Emperor has decided that the ocean between our two races has been too great for too long.  He wishes to open full trade between us.  That, of course, well require treaties to assure that the relationships between us is rightly established and in good order.  We do not want to repeat the chaos of our first encounters.”

“No,” Jack said, most emphatically.  “We don’t want that again.”

“Then we will need a human presence at court, to establish those terms and to help when matters get complicated, as you humans say.”

“Your grasp of standard is quite good,” Kris said, glancing back as the kids now were toweling themselves dry.

“I have been given one of your best personal computers,” he said, tapping a tiny broach on his chest.  “I know it is not as good as your Nelly,” he said, giving Kris a smile that now looked better than a grimace.  “It runs the language program Nelly developed very quickly and well.”

“It certainly does,” Nelly put in.

“So,” Jack said, “your Emperor wants to set up full diplomatic relations.”

“Yes, we have studied your practice of exchanging ambassadors.  The concept of having someone in the court to stand in the place of a ruling equal is most strange for us and no doubt there will be the strong possibility of misunderstanding.”

“You’ll need someone very capable,” Kris said, as the kids raced by her, clothes damp in several places, but they were now very, very clean and most hungry.

“Yes, we will need someone very special,” Ron said.  “That is why my Emperor has asked your King to send a very special emissary.  We have asked for you, Princess Kris Longknife to be that emissary.”

“That is very interesting,” Jack said, most circumspectly.

It was good he did, because Kris was too intent on swallowing a response that would be most inappropriate for her children’s ears.

Chapter 2

Dinner turned into a very interesting experience.  Ron only picked at his salad and the three adults struggled to find something to talk about.

Ruth had been trained not to speak at the dinner table until spoken to.  Young Johnnie was still struggling with the concept of silence, but he was so in awe of the big Iteeche at the table that he got his first two bites in with nothing said.  However, with the adults having nothing to say, Ruth broke the ice.

“Mother, I had a very good day at school.”

“You did,” Ron said as if surprised.  The Iteeche seemed to have gained in the skill of expressing emotions like a human.  Kris couldn’t help but notice that the vestigial gills at his neck were now covered by a high collar.  When she’d first met Ron, she could keep track of his mood by the color of those relics of when his ancestors swam in dark seas.  She wondered if all the Iteeche at court had adopted the same fashion and how that was playing out.  Kris had plenty of time to think because Ruth and John were busily filling Ron in on what they’d learned today.

“Your palace of learning is quite good,” he said after a few minutes.

“We have good teachers,” Ruth said, glancing down at the computer that hung around her neck on a sturdy Smart MetalTM chain with no clasp.  She’d lost several computers; now a code was needed to get it off of her.

“Is your computer one of Nelly’s children?” Ron asked, giving Kris a knowing glance.

So, you know that Nelly has spun off a few kids of her own.  What don’t you know?  Or more importantly, what cards do you have up your many sleeve?

Kris smiled back, and let Ruth answer, “No, Daisy is just a computer.  But sometimes Nelly has something to say, so I think Nelly is checking up on us for Mommy.”

“You bet I am,” Nelly said, and got a happy giggle from both kids.

Not to be outdone, Johnnie held up his computer.  “Mine is Hippo,” he announced loudly.

Ron seemed to take a moment then grinned at Johnnie, “And a very nice hippo you have there.”

He looked at both kids.  “If I was your mommy, I’d never take my eyes off you, and I’ve got two of them for each of you,” the Iteeche said, and was rewarded with more giggles.

The main course for the humans was meatloaf and mashed potatoes in Lotty’s special gravy accompanied by steamed mixed vegetables which resulted in Johnnie asking how much broccoli he had to eat.

“There are only two broccoli florets on your plate,” Kris pointed out.  Apparently, Lotty had taken mercy on him in the kitchen.

“Do I have to eat both?”

“Yes.”

The youngster turned pleading eyes to his father, who shook his head.  “I agree with your mother.  We want you to grow up big and strong.”

Johnnie studied the offending vegetable as if it was a poisonous mushroom, then cut off a bit of meatloaf and chewed it thoughtfully as he eyed the required two pieces of broccoli.

About that time, Ron took his fork and stabbed it into the two-handled alabaster serving bowl that Kris had never seen before but apparently was kept for just the right moment.  It had peacocks and flowers flowing around it.

Ron drew out something like a fish, still wiggling on his fork.  He plopped it in his mouth, lifted his head so it would have a straight run down his throat, and swallowed.

“Wow,” Johnnie said, all thought of broccoli forgotten.  “Can I have one?”

“Me too,” Ruth put in, not to be outdone by her younger brother, who, at this moment, was a smidgen taller than her.

Jack turned to Kris, clearly bemused by this strange territory.

“Ah, I don’t think that would be a good idea, kids.”

“Why, Mommy?” came immediately in chorus, as it did so often.

“Ah, Uncle Ron is an Iteeche.  His people didn’t come from Earth and the food they eat evolved on a different planet.  Our food makes his tummy sick.  I’m afraid that his food might give you a tummy ache.

Not to mention eating raw fish.  Who knows where it’s been.

“Aww,” came from two very disappointed kids.

“Would a goldfish taste like his food?” John Junior wondered.

“Nobody is eating the goldfish out of the pond,” Jack said sternly.  “You are a civilized human being.  You eat your fish cooked.”

Think we might offer him some sushi? Kris asked taking advantage of Nelly net.

Jack took the thought and ran with it.  “If you want to try raw fish, we could bring you home something called sushi.  It has fish and rice and vegetables.”

“Could you?” Johnnie asked.  “That would be great,” Ruth said over him.  A year or two ago, she would have pushed John’s head under the table to make sure she was heard.

Thank heavens that stopped.  It probably had to, now that little brother is the bigger of the two.

“Does the shusss, ah, fish stuff have broccoli in it?” Johnnie added, spotting a possible weakness in his parents’ latest concession.

“I don’t think it does,” Kris said.

“I’ll make sure that your sushi has no broccoli when I order it,” Nelly said.

“Thank you, Aunt Nelly,” Johnnie said, then turned back to address his broccoli problem.  He cut a small sprig off, buried it in mashed potatoes and gravy and manfully put it in his mouth.  The little fellow looked like he was doomed and this was his last meal.

Kris made an effort to take her eyes off her offspring.  She treasured time with them, but she knew she could smother them if she held them too close.  Her parents had been way too distant; she and Jack were hunting for a middle ground.

She turned to Ron, and did her best to begin a conversation.  “How was your voyage across the neutral zone?”

“The weather in space this time of year was quite pleasant,” Ron said with a near human grin.

“There’s no weather in space,” Ruth said with the disdain of a six-year-old for grownup folly.  “Space is cold vacuum all the time.”

Kris covered her mouth with her napkin, doing her best to wipe away a grin of her own.

“Uncle Ron knows very well what space is like, Ruth.  He was making a joke,” Jack told his young daughter.

“His jokes are as bad as Aunt Nelly,” Ruth said, but softly as she was, once more addressing her supper.

Ron watched Kris’s interaction with her children.  “You keep your young with you from the first moment they hatch.”

“Ruth grew in my own uterus for nine months before she came out into the world and was placed on my breast,” Kris said.  “I fed her for the first two years of her life, completely at first, then less and less.”

“I have read of this way of you humans.  It has to be seen to be believed.  We Iteeche are not chosen by our choosers until we are halfway through our time in the Palace of Learning.”

“I would dearly miss my time with my children from their birth until they were halfway through school,” Kris said, most pointedly.

“Our children spend eight years in grammar or middle school,” Jack said, “then four years in high school and another four years in college.  Some spend longer.  What is half way through the Palace of Learning to you?”

The two eyes on the left side of Ron’s head gazed up at the ceiling for a brief moment, then he again focused on Jack.  “Our year is longer than yours, but I would say we begin in the smaller ponds and progress upward for six years.  Then we are chosen and swim in the larger pools for another six years.  For those of us who have specialized work, such as those you would call officers in your Army or Navy, or Officials at Court, there are several more years before we can take the exam to swim in the wide ocean of affairs.  I studied longer, although there were few to teach me about you humans.  I had to learn to swim with you by myself.”

“As I will, no doubt, have to if my king chooses me for his emissary to you,” Kris said through a thoughtful frown.

Ruth took that moment to announce, “I’ve finished half of my meatloaf and all my vegetables.  Can I go now?  Devi promised to read us a story after supper.”

Kris eyed her daughter’s plate.  She was eating less and less meat; was she going to turn into a vegetarian?

“Are you full?” Jack asked solemnly.

“Yes, Daddy.”  Somebody knew which of her little fingers her daddy was wrapped around.

Jack raised an eyebrow Kris’s way.

“Okay, you can have your nanny read you a story,” Kris said, and Ruth bolted from the room.

“Can I go too?” Johnny pleaded.  He’d eaten all his meat and potatoes, except for what was smeared around his plate.  Of his broccoli, half a crown sat forlornly in the middle of the wreckage.  The eyes focused on Kris were wide and so doleful.

“Go get your story,” she decided.

He vanished at the speed of light, or at least as quickly as his growing legs could carry him.

Kris shook her head, and allowed herself a smile as the tornado that were her children relinquished the room to the adults.

Jack reached for the coffee pot that sat at his elbow and poured himself a cup, then offered one to Ron and lastly Kris.  “You thinking of taking the job?” he asked her.

“I don’t know, but if Grampa Ray says the job is mine, how will I not take it?”

“You did insist on this desk job,” Jack pointed out.  Then he eyed Kris and a soft smile crept onto his face.  “This budget thing didn’t have you sending Megan out to buy you a lottery ticket, did you?”

Some wag at Main Navy had started a betting pool on how long Kris would last at a desk.  Initially, the betting was which hour.  Then which day, then week.  Present betting was sporadic and involved months.  That Kris would have her aide buy a ticket on when she’d bolt from her desk job was a running joke between them.

“I may have,” Kris admitted.  “It was a really bad day.”

“Budget days are never anything else.”

“Let’s wait and see,” Kris said.  “There have to be better diplomats in the Royal US Foreign Service.”

Kris sipped her coffee and eyed Ron.  “Why would your Emperor ask for me by name?”

“You are the most known human in the Iteeche Empire, after your King Raymond.  You are honored even among us for what you did to the aliens, beating them back from our door.”

“But I was blowing stuff up, Ron.  This looks like a very different job.  More like keeping things from blowing up.”

The Iteeche managed to raise the skin on the ridges above his eyes.  It looked like he’d had eyebrows penciled in.  Maybe even tattooed.

Clearly, at least Ron was doing his best to “go native,” but Kris wasn’t quite sure what message he was trying to convey.

“You solve problems, Princess.  We need problems solved.  Colonies of our people are sprouting up on many of your space stations where they are helping you with your power generation upgrade.  In the Empire, we are also accepting colonies of humans who are helping us with your Smart Metal ships, as well as the new, more powerful lasers.  Your king has not agreed to let us have the technology of your beam weapon, but we are still agitating for it.”

Kris suppressed a curious frown.  Why would Grampa Ray hold back on the beam weapon?

If the aliens discovered the human and Iteeche sector of space and attacked the Iteeche first, the more murderous space raiders that the Empire blew away the better for humans.  Kris would have to ask her grampa what the problem was when she saw him next.

But Ron was still talking.

“So far, both of our peoples have stayed locked up in their little colonies and had as little interaction with each other as possible.  Still, people can only stay locked up in a tin can for so long.  What do you call it, cabin fever?”

Kris thought back to the need that had driven her fleet personnel and industrial workers on Alwa Station to own a bit of dirt, to get outside in the fresh air.  It had caused her no end of trouble, but they’d sure been happy when Kris got them their land.

“Yes, folks need a break,” she agreed.

“And when they take their breaks, my people among yours and yours with mine, there will be friction when we rub elbows,” Ron said, and raised all eight of his elbows.

“I hope that doesn’t mean we’ll have four times the trouble with your people,” Jack said, but he grinned as he said it.

“I think you will find my people much more cooperative than your people.  We are too many and used to living in very close quarters.  We learn to follow the rules very early or we can be unchosen.”

Kris hadn’t heard about that.  That was another thing she’d need to figure out if she took this job.

“That is why,” Ron went on, “that we need to establish clear rules.  While your people will likely do their best to bend them, if they are anything like you, Princess, my people will do their best to follow the rules.”

“Are you suggesting that my wife’s devious, corkscrew of a brain will be just the thing you need to come up with rules that other devious, corkscrew brains won’t be able to wiggle out of?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ron said, all four hands coming up to fend off any angry attack from Kris.

“No, you didn’t, but my loving husband did,” Kris said, sending Jack a most sarcastic air kiss to keep him warm.  He might need it for sleeping on the couch.

“I thought you were proud of your Longknife corkscrew brain?” Jack said, grinning as he defended himself.

Kris scrunched up her face, as if to think hard, then shook her head.  “I don’t mind being devious and applying my corkscrew brain to things like blowing shit up.  But legal shit.  That stuff with lawyers?  Not so much.”  She turned to Ron.

“Will your people be represented in this bargaining by men of the law?”

“We have elders that stand up with those accused of misdeeds when they go before the holders of the Emperor’s, ah.  Nelly, help me.  It’s not a club exactly.  It is weighted on one end and a double handle on the other end.”

“Is it made of wood?” Nelly asked.

“Now it is usually bronze or silver for someone who holds senior hearings.”

“How about a mace?  A mace of office,” Nelly said, and presented one as a hologram above the table.

“That is close to it.  I would show you one, but this computer I have only holds what Nelly and I worked out during our last trip.  I had no imagination that you would want me to show you about my world.”

That gave Kris pause.  The two of them had been very curious about each other and their worlds.  They’d turned the Forward Lounge on the old Wasp, the old, old corvette size Wasp, into a full-fledged roundtable to study the different views each species had about the Iteeche - Human War.

Before Kris could form a question to direct the conversation gently in that direction, Ron asked Jack about what it was like to fight the aliens and that easily took them back to Alwa.  Somehow Granny Rita’s survival came up and that led to cheerful talk of their wedding.

Again, Ron was left shaking his head, something that involved most of his body above the strange hip bones of his that handled four legs.  “So you know whose eggs your seed quickens because you have committed yourself to live your entire life with her?” he said, eyeing Jack.

“That is how we humans try to do it.  It doesn’t always work out that way, but it’s the ideal.  Two of us, trying not to kill each other,” Kris said, throwing Jack a toothy smile, “while we raise our kids, and try not to let them kill us.”

“Or us kill them,” Jack pointed out.  “Remember the time Ruth got her diaper off and proceeded to stuff all the heat vents . . .”

“Enough, Jack.  Ron does not need to know everything about what immature humans can get into.”

Ron was swiveling his body back and forth.  “When I think of all the things I did when I was a youngling in the House of Learning, I am only too glad that my chooser knew nothing of my past misconducts.”

“How does this choosing work?” Kris asked.  “You never had much to say about it when we were last together.”

“It’s a very personal matter among us,” Ron said, leaving Kris with a strong yearning for good old days when she could tell the emotional state of an Iteeche just by looking at those old gill slits. This new collar fashion was crimping her style.  As it was, she had no idea what was going on with Ron.

And she didn’t much like it.

Again, Ron deftly turned the conversation back to their time on Alwa as well as the Sasquans and seemed to really fear letting the cat critters with atomics loose in the galaxy.

“The Empire, just as you humans, chose during the war not to violate our own edicts concerning atomic weapons.  It took us so long to force them back into the shell, we did not want to have to do that again.  Can we trust them to pack away in a deep, dark pit of the ocean such weapons of chaos?  That is where they belong.”

“That is Grand Admiral Santiago’s chore as we speak,” Jack said.  “I’m glad it’s hers and not mine . . . or Kris’s.”

Kris rolled her eyes at the ceiling.  “Better anyone else but me.”

“About this other species you found, you call them the Verdant Ones?”

“They’re intelligent, bipedal and quadrilateral like we humans, but they seem to have a film of chlorophyll all over their bodies,” Kris said.  “All I’ve seen is the most preliminary of reports.  My Navy job eats up my time like candy.”

“I wonder if there might be one of them to come as an ambassador to my Emperor’s court.  He was most interested in seeing one of those green men.  Oh, and one of those cats too, and a bird as well.  He is very curious about all these species that you humans are encountering.”

“Is he willing to lend some battlecruisers to defend those planets?” Kris said.

“You will have to ask him,” had a vagueness around the edges that raised the hackles on the back of Kris’s neck.

The conversation rambled on for a bit more.  After another hour, Ron excused himself, “I must be back to the secure location I am housed in before dark.”

“Aren’t you worried about people seeing your car?”

“I travel in a van with no windows,” Ron said with a near Irish sigh.  “No one can see me, but I can see nothing about where I am going.  It is a hard burden to bear.  We must negotiate ways that our two people can hold the dark chaos at bay.”

“We certainly must, particularly if I and my family will likely be some of the people walled up out of sight,” Kris said.

They waited while Ron boarded a tall green van.  “That’s as tall as the one they had me in when I had to stand up all the way to the residence of the Emperor of Musashi,” Kris noted.

“And you aren’t nearly as tall as he is,” Jack quipped, taking a dig at how sensitive Kris had been about her height back before he proved to her that she was loveable.  Oh, and she had two kids and spent half her day bending down to reach them.

Thank God they are growing up.

She and Jack waved at the van, though they doubted Ron could see them.

“You interested in the job?”  Jack asked as the van passed through the gate of their outer perimeter.

“I really did have Meg buy us two tickets in the lottery,” Kris admitted.

“For this month?”

“Nope, next month.”

“Then you were serious.”

“Yep.”  When Kris was really pissed, she bought it for this month even if it was the 23rd.  She’d only bought a ticket for the next month once and she’d spent the entire next seven weeks thinking very seriously about leaving.

“You want to talk about it?” Jack asked.

“Nope, we’ve talked it through enough.  No more talk.  Take me to bed and make me forget all the damn bureaucratic infighting.”

“My pleasure,” Jack said, nuzzling the back of her neck.

“No, mine,” Kris said, reaching back to run her hands through his hair.

Chapter 3

Traffic was light, so Kris was at her desk fifteen minutes early the next morning.  She spent the time having Nelly go through this year’s budget documentation and matching it with last year’s.  Nelly also called up Kris’s markups from last year where they’d fit just as well as they had last year.

The Battle Force and Scout Force copied and pasted a lot of their supporting data from one year to the next.

Kris shook her head.  She had written her budget support fresh from scratch each year, based on what had happened over the previous year.  Then again, she had Nelly at her side every day and only had to ask her to remember this or that for the budget write-up and Nelly not only remembered, but would have her narrative ready for Kris to review and approve.

Why don’t the other admirals use their computers like that?  Heaven knows theirs weren’t nearly as good as Nelly, still, even a dumb computer could remember something when told to.

Kris watched as the wall in front of her changed quickly as Nelly highlighted this in yellow and added in red what Kris had said about it last year.

Right on time, Megan appeared at Kris’s elbow, two cups of frothy coffee in hand.

“You know this stuff isn’t Navy issue.”

“I know you pay a lot for it,” Megan answered, taking a sip.

Kris took a sip of her own.  Every day was different; today had a hint of caramel and macadamia nut.

“What is this?”

“You don’t ask and I don’t tell,” Megan said primly.

“But how will I order for myself?”

“Keep me around and you won’t have to,” came as a cute reply.

Kris sighed and got serious.  “About this job.  There may be a problem,” Kris said, and filled Megan in on what Ron the Iteeche had to say last night.

“Well, it’s not like you don’t have the diplomatic chops for a job like that,” Megan said when Kris finished.  “We survived negotiating the end of the Greenfeld Civil War and even the last renegotiations of the Treaty of Cuzco.”

“I had a lot of help both times,” Kris pointed out.

“And you won’t have a lot of help at your elbow as the ambassador to the Iteeche Empire?”

“Ugh,” escaped Kris and before she could say anything.  Without even thinking about it, she found herself going down the list of people she knew and slipping them into slots on her ambassadorial staff.  She shook her head.

“What about you?” Kris said.  “I remember you telling me that you weren’t interested in Alwa duty.  Something about being from Santa Maria halfway to hell and gone and wanting to spend some time in human space.”

“I, ah, may have been more diplomatic than accurate when I said that,” Meg said, looking a bit coyly.

Kris eyed her aide over her cup of coffee as she took a sip.

“I dropped in on my detailer in BuPer to see about getting a good assignment, and he kind of did a double take.  Muttered something about ‘not another damn Longknife.’  I asked him what he was talking about and he told me he had one Longknife asking for an aide and another Longknife asking for an assignment.  I think I kind of quit breathing, not wanting to upset anything.  I was pretty sure there wasn’t another Longknife in the Navy besides me and the famous, or infamous Princess Kris Longknife.  Next thing I know, he’s trying to sell me on taking your job as aide.”  Megan dipped the shallowest of curtsies.  “And, as they say, the rest is history.”

“If you follow me to the Imperial court, you could be the only attractive young human woman for hundreds of light years,” Kris said, thinking that finding cute human boys might be a problem for her aide.

“No doubt there will be plenty of humans around helping you run the embassy.  Besides, the whole idea is to arrange for trade treaties and technological transfer.  There are bound to be some cute guys involved.  I might marry myself a wealthy businessman and have more bucks than you, Princess.”

“So, you’re princessing me,” Kris laughed.  “I better get my nose out of your business before you get really nasty.”

They exchanged grins before Kris turned back to Nelly’s work, ready to get down to business again.

Megan wasn’t quite there yet.  “Admiral, I really meant it,” she said, dead serious, “I would like to stay as your aide.”

“Why?” Kris said, keeping her eyes on the board, half afraid where this was headed.

“It’s never boring around you, ma’am, and I had all the boring I wanted growing up on Santa Maria.”

Kris let her breath out slowly.  She’d been half afraid that Megan was about to swear her undying devotion and love to Kris.  That would complicate matters much more than Kris cared to tackle at the moment.

“I think I can provide plenty of not boring,” Kris said.  “I just don’t know what it is I will be providing if you follow me to the Imperial Iteeche Court.  It could be just a lot of trade negotiations for people like my Grampa Al or boring balls with guys who have way too many hands.”

“My mother warned me about those types.  Still, we won’t know until we get there.  Now we’ve got a draft rebuttal to put together between now and next week.  How do you want to reply to the Battle Fleet’s dig that battlecruisers can’t fire broadside?”

“The same way we did last year,” Kris snarled softly.

“You bet, Admiral.”

The morning was off to a good start.  The two of them and Nelly rapidly drew together their package.  Kris found it disheartening that she was saying the same thing this year as she said last year.  Trying to get change out of the Navy was like nailing orange marmalade to a tree.  Its entrenched interest groups were nearly impossible to change: admirals, industrial big wigs, and politicians who liked the jobs that the old ways created and didn’t want to think of their constituents losing them.

Kris had thought that the battlecruisers were a dream come true, what with the huge alien raiders out there.  With a quarter of the crew and at a quarter of the cost . . . actually less now that the battleship admirals wanted crystal armor all over their oversized behemoths . . . the battlecruisers should have allowed the government to rearm at a quarter of the cost.

Kris chuckled; she’d really put the fear of God into human space when she sent back the raving alien woman.  People were terrified by her diatribes and threats.  Suddenly, taxes were good and the public purse was open for defense.

Too bad it was being spent in too many of the wrong places.

Kris sighed; the more she tried to explain the battlecruiser concept, the more she was called a zealot or one note band.  She’d learned the hard way how much fun it was to be a voice crying in the wilderness.

What am I doing wrong?

She and Jack had lunch together at a tiny food court on the roof of Main Navy.  It was a wonderful spring day with a few fluffy clouds dotting a painfully blue sky.  Nelly put the kids on a hookup with them and Kris found the laughter of her kids a soft balm that soothed her blood pressure.  Jack avoided any mention of work during lunch and Kris was only too glad to follow his lead.

She went back to the salt mine after lunch with one reluctant last glance at the budding springtime. Ten years ago, Kris would have ditched her afternoon classes and headed for a park or better yet, the hills with any friends she could talk into being as irresponsible as her.

“This being a grown up is not what I was promised,” she whispered as she and Jack parted ways.

“You’re sure it’s not being an admiral?” Jack said, smiling back.

“Probably just being a damn Longknife,” Kris grumbled.

Jack had no answer that could top that.

Kris continued to work with Megan and Nelly.  As the afternoon wore on, Kris found her frustration skyrocketing.  She did not join the Navy to smash her head against a brick wall in the hope that it would crumble before her head did.  Kris was pretty sure the wall would be the loser, but it was taking way too long, and if she was honest, a lot more effort than she wanted to waste.

I hate this job, Kris thought for the very first time.

“Kris,” Nelly said, interrupting a review of the Scout Force, “King Raymond requests and requires your present at the palace immediately.  You have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”

“I do, do I?” Kris said.

“You and Jack,” Nelly added.

“Is he already headed for the car park?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess I should too.” Kris sighed, but grabbed her undress blues coat and pulled it on as she headed for the door.  “Meg, keep pounding that sand.  Use last year’s hammer when you can.  If you find a diamond in the rough, it’s yours.”

“You are so generous, Admiral.”

“Just like our monarch,” Kris said and began a fast walk.

Chapter 4

Kris and Jack found their limo with the invisible target painted on the roof waiting for them in the lower basement car park, motor running.  They were moving before they fastened their seatbelts.  Once out of the garage they picked up a motorcycle escort.  It was more for the king, than Kris.  No one wanted a substitute to be slipped in between Main Navy and the Palace.

They’d been there enough times that the guards on duty recognized them and Kris could call them by name and ask about the spouse and kids.  That didn’t keep Kris and Jack from providing a palm print, retina scan and a drop of blood.  As soon as the security computer confirmed they were who their identity cards said they were, they were allowed to pass through the sensors to make sure they had no hidden bombs or weapons.  Then they were handed off to a colonel with enough gold rope on his shoulder to hang a squad, if not a full platoon.

They were taken up to the top floor of what had once been a five star hotel but now was occupied by a large contingent of snoops keeping their thumbs on the political pulse of one hundred seventy-three planets, nearly a quarter of all humanity, as well as foreign relations with a couple of dozen Confederations, Alliances and Associations, as well as what was left of Earth’s Society of Humanity.

The colonel ushered them straight into the regal presence, although this time her royal great-grandfather was in an office that was a lot more cluttered than his son’s, Grampa Al’s, office ever would be.  It was also about a quarter of the size. Strange that.  A prince of business needed more and fancier trappings than a king who reigned over a quarter of humanity.

Grampa Ray looked more like a harried businessman than a king.  He had his coat off, his tie loose at his collar and his sleeves rolled up as he poured over two readers.  He glanced from one to the other rapidly.

“Have you seen this damn budget?” he asked without looking up.

“I’ve seen nothing else since I got a copy yesterday,” Kris said.  “Isn’t the silly season wonderful.”

“No, kiddo.  The silly season is when there’s an election in the wind.  This is the crazy season.”

He sighed, put down the readers and looked at Kris and Jack.  “Can I offer you something?  Coffee, tea, a gallon of scotch?”

“Don’t waste the good stuff on us, Sir,” Jack said.  “Any rot gut you got will be fine for me.”

“Soda water,” Kris said, primly.

“Right, you’re still on the wagon.”

“Yes, Grampa.”

“It’s king, today,” the monarch said as he poured two cups of coffee and a glass of water with a twist of lime from the small bar against one wall and led Kris and Jack to a comfortable set of chairs and sofas.  He took the biggest chair, leaned back into it and closed his eyes as a slow hum told Kris that the chair was doing its best to relax the king.

They waited while sipping their coffee.  It was a nice blend, not the usual Navy issue.

After a long minute, the king opened his eyes and fixed Kris with a hard look.  “I should never have let you talk me into this job.  They don’t want a king.  They don’t want an ombudsman.  They want a damn baby sitter.”

“Want one, or need one?” Kris asked seeking clarification.

“Want, need, what’s the difference?  I’m a traffic cop trying to direct oversized trucks and keep them from crashing into each other.  Only, there doesn’t seem to be any traffic laws.  I point them down one road and they take off for another.”

“I’ve heard that politics is the art of herding cats,” Jack said softly.

“Cats would be easier,” Ray grouched.

“So, Your Majesty, have you brought me here to scourge me for my long-ago mistake of suggesting that you really were the best man for the newly established kingship, or do you have something else on your mind?”

“Impertinent kid,” Ray grumbled.

“I’m four years past my thirtieth birthday, Your Majesty.  I think the statute of limitations has run out on me being a kid.  Not that I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“You got two gorgeous kids for all your years,” Ray said, great-great-grandfatherhood softening his voice.  “Why don’t you bring them around here more often?”

“Have you seen your schedule, Grampa?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Did an Iteeche show up on your doorstep yesterday?”

“As a matter of fact, one did wander in.  I got home to find Ron playing with some of the latest twigs on your family tree.”

“Ron?”

“You know,” Kris said, and named Ron just as fast as Nelly could dredge up his official name.  “Ron’sum’Pin’sum’We qu Cap’sum’We.  The fellow that brought his Emperor’s concerns about losing ships to you through me.  Somehow, he survived circumnavigating the galaxy with me.”

“Christ, you call him Ron.  Back in my day, you could get your gullet slit from chap to neck for mispronouncing just one word or screwing up your syntax.  What are kids learning in school these days?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kris pointed out officiously.  “I haven’t been in school for a long time and my darlings are still unsullied by formal education.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  So, how did the little hellions get along with this Ron Iteeche?

“They proved him to be an admirably useful merry-go-round.  Johnnie found his way of swallowing live fish most fascinating.  I expect to get home and find the nannies working heartily to pull one of the Koi out of his little gullet.”

“He sounds like another damn Longknife,” Ray said, grinning for the first time since they walked into his office.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the orchard,” Jack whispered softly.

Ray took in a deep breath, let it out slowly and then took in another.  “So, Ron whatever-his-name-is told you that his Emperor wants to establish formal and complete relations with United Society.  They want someone empowered to make formal treaties, negotiate trade agreements and generally get things going.  No doubt, whatever you agree upon will set the precedent for other human unions that follow in your footsteps.”

“So close to my rear end that they’ll make me smile,” Kris said.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“My Foreign Ministry is already looking around for who will be the best people to go with you.  Back in the Society of Humanity, we’d have a hell of a time doing any of this, what with us all being boring blood brothers.  Now that the US has set up embassies in over a dozen unions and negotiated Treaties of Friendship, trade agreements with Most-Favored-Nation in them, and I don’t know what all, we should have some people to offer you help.”

“And if I don’t like the help they’re giving me?”

Ray harrumphed.  “When have you ever liked the help I’ve given you?”

Kris took that for a rhetorical question and passed on answering it.

“Have I been that bad?” almost sounded like a human question.

“I’ve survived, and what I did made me stronger,” Kris offered.

“Yeah.   We survive and try not to get too broken down.”

“Are you having a bad day, Grampa?” Kris asked, wondering if the legend might be showing a human side.

“I need a vacation.  I need to get Trouble and his missus and find a nice cottage on a lake with no radio or phone or media around and just fish all day.  Don’t matter if I catch anything, just so long as I can listen to the lap of the water on the side of the boat and Mrs. Trouble kicks my butt a few times for mouthing off.”

“You really want someone to kick your butt?” Kris asked, trying to react in a serious and concerned way.

“Not you, kid.  Ruth and Trouble.  They’ve been through the mill I survived.  You go out and survive your own fun.”

So much for Ray’s humanity, at least for his younger offspring.

“Is this job going to be dangerous?” Jack asked.

“Why?  What do you think?” Ray said, focusing on the general.

“I expect that Kris will want it to be an accompanied tour.  Will it be safe for us to take your great-great-grandkids?”

Ray leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and let it massage him for a long minute.  When he leaned forward, he was shaking his head.

“I honestly don’t know.  We’ve done all we could to figure out what’s going on in the Empire.  We’ve sent specialists in to help them with Smart Metal construction and our new warship lasers.  They’ve helped us jack up the power plants on our ships.”

The king paused to take a deep breath.  “I’ve got some folks screaming to have the Iteeche engineers come down planetside and boost our power plants down here.  I’ve got other folks screaming they don’t want the Iteeche walking around our streets . . . and they don’t want three quarters or more of our power plants made superfluous.  Imagine what that will do to the price of a megawatt of power, huh?  Will we have riots on our hands if we do bring the Iteeche dirtside?  Should I let Al get together with the Iteeche on the station and come up with a way to slap their technology into our ground plants?”

“You’ve got a lot of cat fights to referee,” Kris said.

“Yeah.”

“You haven’t answered Jack’s question.  Will this be a nice, quiet diplomatic mission or not?”

The king shrugged.  “Everything the Iteeche say is that it will be nice and quiet.  I think we ought to take them at their word.  So yes, take the kids.  We’re sending them an ambassador who is a woman, a mother and a damn fine fighter.  With your kids, and likely other curtain climbers in the baggage train, they’ll know we’re serious, plan on a long stay and trust them.  Jack, you’ll be a military attaché with authority over the security of the embassy.  Yes, you will have a Marine detachment.  Say a reinforced battalion.”

Ray turned to Kris.  “There are way too many unknowns about the Iteeche Empire.  I hope, as ambassador you can reduce that by half or better.  Okay?”

“I understand,” Kris said.  Then she reflected for a moment on the job Jack had just been handed and turned to him.  “Make sure you don’t get yourself made persona non grata by snooping where they don’t want you snooping.”

“I’ll do my best to use expendable junior officers,” Jack said, giving Kris one of his lop-sided grins.

The silence among the three stretched.  Finally, the king broke it.

“Kris, if this invite to be an emissary to the Iteeche hadn’t come up, I would have had to figure out somewhere else to send you.”

“Why, grampa?”

“How many assassination attempts have you survived lately?”

“Too many,” Jack growled.

“Yeah,” the king said.

“I never get any answer when I ask where the assassins are coming from,” Kris said.  “Do you have some sort of an answer?”

“No,” the king answered curtly, then relaxed into his chair.  “We’re not even sure that all of them are real attempts at killing you.”

“That rocket yesterday sure looked for real,” Kris said.  “The back window was a real bon fire.  I should have brought hot dogs to roast,” she said, sarcastically.

“Did it break the window?”

“No.  It’s Smart Metal and Nelly reinforced it even before the rocket hit.”

“So, I ask you again, did they really want you dead, or were they just sending you and me a message?

“Message?” Jack echoed.  “I thought that was for letters, radios, that kind of stuff.”

“Some messages need a bit more oomph,” the king said.  “And I need something stronger than this coffee.”  He got up, went back to his wet bar and returned with a large brandy snifter half full of amber liquid and two small ice cubes.

“Kris, when they made me king, it was supposed to be for twenty-five years.  I should live so long.”

“How’s your health, sir?” Jack asked.

“Probably as good as yours.  But that’s not the problem.  The tradeoff was supposed to be that after twenty-five years, the Longknifes would exit politics for, somewhere short of forever, but not very.  You understand?”

“Yes, I read the final approved version of the Constitution when I got back from Alwa and Greenfeld.  A bit less than twenty years from now, I quit being a princess and I get my life back.”

“Ha,” came out hard.  “How’s that part of the Constitution working out?”

“You’re king.  I’m a princess,” Kris said.

“How’s my grandson, Prince Billy, Wardhaven’s Prime Minister doing?  Or my other great-grand kid, Prince Honovi, Member of Parliament?”

“If you call either one of them prince, you better be able to outrun them.”

“Exactly.  Billy Longknife will not give up politics until they pry it from his cold dead fingers.”

“I don’t understand the problem, Grampa.  Help me out here.”

“Billy doesn’t want to be a prince, and when it comes next to electing a king, he sure as hell doesn’t want to run for it.”

“Right.  Wardhaven is his love.”

“But you’re a princess.  Wouldn’t you like to run for queen?”

“No.  No!  Hell, no!”

“You sure?” the king, her great-grandfather, asked slyly.  “When people come around to whisper into your ear.  People who tell you that the United Society really needs you.  You sure you’ll turn a deaf ear to them?”

Kris leaned back in her chair, dumbfounded.  For a long time, she just stared off into space, not seeing anything.  Then she felt a glass put in her hand.  It was about a quarter full of that amber liquid and had five ice cubes.

She took a pull on her drink.  Her throat became a four-alarm fire.

“Chaser,” she pleaded.

Jack shoved her mineral water with a twist of lime in her hand and she downed about half of it in one gulp.  A moment later, her husband returned with a tall glass of water, loaded with ice.

She set the water on the table beside her, but kept the glass of scotch in her hand.

Her next sip was quite a bit smaller.

“Do people really think I’d want to be queen after you?”

The King took a long pull on his drink.  “I think there are quite a few important people who think that you would do a fine job as their queen.  You have the most name recognition of any woman in the US.  Everyone knows of and most of them like you, Kris.  You have diplomatic chops, just ask the Peterwald Empire.  You are a war winning battle commander and hero,” the king waved at Kris to close her open mouth.  “I’ve seen you all decked out in your full dress uniform.  If all that fruit salad and gewgaws don’t make you a hero, no one is.  You’ve run a developing economy for Alwa and built a defense and industrial complex to beat the band.  Sorry, Kris, your resume is long and it’s full of achievements.  A lot of people who talk to me think you’re the one to follow in my footsteps.”

The king stared hard at Kris.  She found herself retreating back into her chair.

“There are also some very important and dangerous people who very much fear that you might win an election for queen.  An election they very much want to win for themselves.  I can think of several men who really want to sit in my chair.  None of them would do the job very well, but that doesn’t faze them from wanting it.”

“If I may point out,” Jack said softly, “the Constitution says quite clearly that no one from the bloodline of a king may succeed a king.”

“Son, people who just wrote a constitution don’t quite have the respect for those words on paper that the folks who didn’t write it may have.  Or succeeding generations.  The constitution also says that members of my bloodline aren’t supposed to hold elected public office.  Ha!” was bitter and punctuated by another long sip from his glass.

Kris risked a small one from hers.  Her mind was spinning in way too many directions.

“Your old man, Billy Longknife, has been campaigning to get that section taken out from day one.  He’s got quite a few votes, almost enough.  And he’ll get the few he needs if his people will also vote to completely strip the bloodline section from the Constitution.  If your old man gets that, gets to keep his political career, you, my young mother, admiral and budding emissary, will find yourself first in line to be declared my heir apparent.  Princess of Wales?  Princess of Wardhaven.  I don’t know what they’ll call it, but whatever it is, you’re it.”

“So, they throw rockets at me that they know won’t do more than temporarily mar the paint on my limo, huh?” Kris got out slowly.

“Yep.”

“Do you think they’ll get more serious as I get closer to the purple?”

“Nelly, can you keep Kris safe in her armored limo?” the king asked.

“Short of a banned atomic, I think I can.  I study the literature on offensive weapons.  I know what’s on the market as well as what is available off the market.  I also keep my thumb on what is only in concept state.  I think my defensive capabilities are several generations of destruction devices ahead of the what we could face.  If I can spot an attack, I can kill it,” Nelly said with finality.

“Thank you, Nelly.  You keep up the good work, and oh, if Crossie comes around asking you for any ideas about how to kill troublesome people, you tell him I say you are not to help him.”

“I defend Kris, sir.  I am not interested in being used to assassinate anyone,” Nelly said, pointedly.

“I like you, Nelly.  Stay a good friend to my gal here.”

“I will, sir.  Always.”

The king raised his glass to Nelly at Kris’s collar bone, then went on.  “Now, back to our problem.  I can keep you here, with those who want to be king getting more and more short tempered until they take a serious go at you, and, forgive me Nelly, I prefer not to risk your life, Kris.  If the Iteeche hadn’t come up with this job offer, I would have had to come up with one better.  Something that would have gotten you out of the shooting gallery known as Wardhaven.”

“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” Jack said, “but I have one concern with this Iteeche job.”

“Only one?”

“Only one in the context of what we just discussed, sir.”

“Well?”

“At present, it is Kris’s battle experience and long line of victories that draw her to the attention of the masses and could be used to get them behind her and elect her queen.”

The king nodded, and took another long sip.

“Won’t sending her off to make deals with the Iteeche Emperor give her another strong set of chops?  Isn’t diplomatic experience that gets people jobs another plank in Kris’s election platform?”

“Son, you’re too smart for your own good.”

“This does sounds like someone is broadening my vitae, Grampa.  Couldn’t you find a nice, out of the way place for me?  Say Alwa?”

The king finished off his drink.  “You want to turn down the job?” the old curmudgeon shot back.

Kris took another small taste from her glass, then used a finger to swirl the ice around in it to hurry its melting.  “If you really wanted to get me out of sight, out of mind and out of politics, you’d send me back to Alwa Station.  The other side of the galaxy with mail packets only every six months.  You can’t get more out of it than that.”

“Yeah, and maybe I would have done something like that after some serious attacks, but this Iteeche thing just dropped into our lap.  They want you.  It would take you off the target range for a good while.  What’s not to like?”

Grampa had a good point.  The Iteeche were asking for Kris by name.  Who would they accept as an envoy if she didn’t go?

“Do you have any idea why they asked for me and only little old me?” she asked, really curious all of a sudden.

Grampa shook his head.  “You learned about this whole thing not that much sooner than I did, honey.  As for wondering why you, who can figure anything out about the working of their minds?  You’ve worked with this Ron fellow twice.  Maybe you’re the only human they know by name?”

“They know Ray Longknife by name,” Kris pointed out.

“Who killed a hell of a lot of Iteeche.  No,” he said, shaking his head.  “But you, you’re my chosen.  My kid.”  The king shrugged and went to refill his drink.  He brought the bottle this time.  One-hundred-year-old scotch!

“Crossie tells me that we’ve lost a lot of information resources in the Empire over the last three years or so,” the king said sitting back down.  “Those contacts we still have aren’t giving us much of anything.”

“Doesn’t that worry you?” Jack asked.

“Of course, it worries me.  Look at that desk.  Everything on it worries me.  It sure would be nice to know more about the Iteeche.  Nice to open trade with them.  Their damn power supply jump up system is a pain, but it’s sure nice.  I’ve got some tech types that tell me it can be applied at the single car level.  It could revolutionize transportation.  Do the Iteeche use it for that?  Who knows?  Kris, we need this.  Our two species need to blend our technologies.  If one of your damn alien mother ships drops into our sky tomorrow, it will be a hell of a fight.  Twenty years from now, we might be able to handle them without a lot of blood and misery if our two people are more like one.”

He took a long pull on his drink, then studied the swirl of the drink in his glass.  “Hell, I know I’m preaching at you, kid.  I also know this entire thing scares me.  I’m scared if you go, and terrified if you don’t.  There, I’ve said it.  Yes, your grampa is scared to send the best girl of your generation off to stick her head into some Iteeche lion’s mouth.  I sure as hell wish they’d asked for someone else, but since they have asked for you, I’ve got a couple of extra reasons for wanting you to go.  Now.  Will you?

How could Kris turn down her king?  Even if he was her grampa.  Even if the entire idea had the hackles on the back of her neck standing at attention and saluting the battalions passing in review, flags flying.

It took her a long minute to let all that he’d said run around in her brain, form rank and file, and then start its own parade.  In the end, she nodded her head and sighed.  “I’ll take the job.”

The king took a very long pull on his drink and settled back into his chair, letting it massage him, possible even relax him, for a long minute.

There seemed to be a million things she ought to have added to it.  The last time she’d taken one of his assignments, she’d bartered it for a desk job for five years.

So, how’d that turn out, kiddo?

She’d worry about tomorrow when the damn sun was in her eyes.

“Okay, where do we go from here?” Kris asked.

When the king began to speak again, he was talking to the ceiling.  Still, Kris heard him.  “When Ron the Iteeche showed up, he had sixteen battlecruisers in his train.  I’m sending you with thirty-two.”

“That many?  What did you think of a small fleet showing up in your sky?  Better yet, how do you think the Iteeche will respond to a large fleet following what’s claiming to be a friendly exchange of folks that are only supposed to talk, talk, talk?”

“You can say that I’d have that kind of an escort if I came to call and I’d expect no less to escort the Emperor should he choose to pay me a visit.  I suspect the first thing you’ll negotiate is how many of them stay with you and how many go home when the first trade delegation finishes its business.”

Kris nodded.  “I think I understand, Your Majesty.  Can I have some say in my staff?”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“I’d like to have Admiral Kitano replace me as Commander of Battlecruiser Force.  She is probably the next most combat experienced commander we’ve got.  There also was an economist and a sociologist on my staff at Alwa.  They stayed behind.  I wonder if they’ll be willing to pry themselves away from documenting Alwa to try their hand at deconstructing the economy of the Iteeche Empire?”

“They’d have to be crazy not to.  A convoy of ships was scheduled to leave for Alwa next week.  I’ll jack up the departure date to day after tomorrow.  I’ll also see that they get an extra division of battlecruisers with orders to return immediately at best speed if your friends are game for a new job.”

“Thank you, Grampa, I really appreciate this.”

“The job?”

“Hell, no.  The staff,” Kris said.

“Yeah.  You’ve learned to walk careful of where you step.  You’ll need to again.”  The king paused before changing the subject.  “Will you be running away right in the middle of the budget?”

“No, Grampa.  I figure it will take at least six weeks, maybe more, to put together everything I’ll need.  I’ll finish what I’m doing.  Though, with any luck, I’ll be gone before parliament holds hearings.”

“There’s an upside to almost everything.”

“How long do you think I’ll have this job?”

“I have no idea, kid.  If you handle it with your usual aplomb, you’ll be persona non grata before the cows come home.”

“Grampa, I stayed a good two years on Alwa with only one assassination attempt and I’d be there still if you hadn’t ordered me home to pull Emperor Harry’s chestnuts out of the fire.”

The king lowered his gray eyebrows and seemed to strain to think.  “You have gotten better.  Two years at Alwa.  Five years at Battlecruiser Force.  Maybe you can stay on your good behavior for five years in the Emperor’s court.”

Five years, Kris mused.

What will the Navy look like in five years?

Hell, what will I look like in five years?

The king stood; the meeting was over.  Kris and Jack stood, did a bit of a bow from the waist and turned for the door.

“Oh, about that bow,” the king said casually, “I understand the Iteeche Emperor has everyone grovel before him.”

“Oh,” Kris said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t grovel.  You don’t either.”

“I may need that battalion of Marines and a fleet in orbit the first time I do that.”

“Yeah, but I mean it.  I don’t grovel. Maybe you bow like you just did, but you don’t grovel.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.

No more was said as they exited the king’s study.

Chapter5

Their car was waiting for them as they marched from the Palace.  Kris glanced at her wrist; she still owed the Navy another hour.  With a sour look at Jack, she decided time in the royal presence counted for double.  “Home,” she said to the driver.

Jack nodded agreement.  That settled, Kris tried to relax back into the leather seats; she was pumping out enough adrenaline she could likely outrun the car home.  She wanted to talk to Jack, but she needed time to think through all that had been dumped on her.  Right now, it was just a big, withering pit of snakes.

Besides, though she trusted the Marines in front with almost anything, this was a bit too hot to discuss with anyone but Jack.

Kris let her eyes take in the city they drove through.  Old buildings were being torn down.  New, bigger, fancier ones were going up.  Her father, the prime minister, had presided over the longest expansion anyone could remember.  There had been a few dips, but nothing that cost him his job or hurt the people he served.

What will it be like when the Iteeche and humans start to intermingle?

Kris know the theory of creative destruction.  She’d seen it in action a time or three.  Hell, her battlecruisers were upsetting the comfortable world the Navy had lived in for close to two centuries.  Until the battlecruiser showed up, battleships built eighty years ago for the Iteeche War were still considered front line.

No wonder I’m facing so much push back.  I’ve tossed a hand grenade into their quiet, staid dog show.

If she thought she’d lit a fire under some folks with her battlecruisers, imagine what she’d cause with the first treaty between Iteeche and humans.

Kris let out a groan; Jack reached over for her hand.

“Anything you want to talk about?” he said softly.

“If I thought I was saddled with conflicting interest groups in the Navy, imagine what we’ll have tagging along with us on this project.”

“You’re trading a couple of cows for a huge herd of elephants.”

“With a few Alwan Ostriches thrown in to kick my head off.”

“No doubt.”

“Do you think I’ll regret this?”

“You haven’t regretted anything that you’ve done for the whole time I’ve been with you?”

Kris suppressed a chuckle.  “I hate to say it, but for a bit, I regretted drafting you onto my staff,” she said, sending him an air kiss.

“And look how well that worked out.”  He air kissed her right back.

With no Iteeche to distract them, two small cannonballs hit Kris as she stepped into the foyer at Nuu House.  They excitedly screamed, giggled and chattered about their day and all they’d learned from their computers and nannies.

Kris did her best to listen, but the brass band parading around in her brain left her more than distracted.  Apparently, the kids could tell that she was elsewhere.  They climbed up her to get in her face, or drag her down to their level and jacked up the volume.  Jack, as usual, was at her side, doing his best to share the bedlam.

The nanny on duty this afternoon was Mai Taimat; she’d survived five years with Kris and now had a little one of her own.  She brought little Ema to work most days.  Thus, John was getting a chance to be a big brother to someone younger than he.

Mai, ever sensitive to Kris’s moods, took note of the dynamics between parents and children.  “Auntie Lotty has cookies and milk ready for you.  I understand they have the wading pool cleaned up and filled with water.  Who wants to get wet?”

“Me, me,” echoed as Mai, like some pied piper, led the eager children off to where they would not disturb their obviously worried parents.  She glanced back long enough to give Kris an encouraging smile as she followed the noise toward the kitchen.

“I hope they’ve got something set up for us in the library,” Kris muttered and led Jack off to the right.

Some angel had laid out hot water and several types of tea.  Kris steeped herself a cup of gentle chamomile and appropriated a handful of the plain shortbread cookies.

She and Jack settled into their usual chairs hidden among shelves of old books, across a low table from each other.  They munched cookies while sipping tea and let the chairs do their best to sooth the tension from them.

It was a lost cause, but it did pass critical time.

“The nano spies you picked up today are destroyed,” Nelly said.  “I don’t know if the two you picked up in the king’s office were his or some strays going after his talk, but I’ve killed them all.

“Thank you, Nelly,” Kris said, still leaning back in the chair.  She took a deep breath and began.  “One, do you think Ray has told us everything he knows about this mission?  Two, do we risk our children on this ‘diplomatic’ mission?”  She put verbal air quotes around their official objective.

Jack kept leaning comfortably within the gentle clutches of his chair.  “First, when has Ray ever told us the half of what he knew when he sent you on a mission?  I will admit that today he made me a believer in him.  Today, he may just have told us all that he knows about why we’re going and what’s ahead of us.”  He raised an eyebrow toward Kris.

She scowled.  She really would have preferred not to believe the king.  It was so unlike her grampa.  Still, at this moment, she felt it was very possibly true.

“As to your second question, can you think of anyone whom you would be willing to hand off the raising of those two short people?”

They’d been over this several times when Kris insisted on keeping Ruth at her breast while she got to the bottom of the little civil war her friend Vicky Peterwald had gotten herself into with her stepmother, of unlamented memory.

Of course, Ruth had nearly been kidnaped and might have been if one of their nannies hadn’t slowed the thugs down at the cost of her life.

Kris shook her head.  “Nope.  Hanovi’s up to five kids and another daughter is in the tank.  Ruth and John would surely have friends, but as much as I love my brother and his wife, I can’t help but worry that mine might get lost in the mob.  Your sister is enjoying being single and your younger brother is just that, young.  You got any other ideas?”

Jack shook his head.  “I admit, I love coming home to the kids, playing with them and putting them to bed.  I really don’t want to let them disappear out of my life for two, three, or five years.  What would they look like when we got back?  Worse, how would we fit back into their lives by then?”

Kris nodded, measuring the hole that would be driven through her heart if she left her kids hundreds of light years away.  If she was ordered back to Alwa or any of the other planets now associated with the US and under their protection, she’d take the kids.  The last she heard, the folks out Alwa way were enjoying a baby boom.  They might as well, no planet was safe from those blood-thirsty aliens intent on the annihilation of all sentient life in the galaxy that wasn’t them.

“Whatever we do, unless there is a clear danger, the kids go with us,” Kris said with finality.

“Now that that’s settled, what do you think of this job we’re being offered?” Jack asked.

“I have no idea,” Kris said.  “Really, I have no idea.  For the first eighty years after the Iteeche War, they stayed on their side of the demilitarized zone and we stayed on ours.  It was only when Ron showed up that I found out there was some tiny pipeline between us that passed fragments of information back and forth.  What with Iteeche and humans actually living in each other’s space, our intel people have to have learned more about them.”

“Have you heard anything about the Iteeche in the five years we’ve been here on Wardhaven?”

Kris shook head.  “Hardly a word.  It’s curious.  I’ve spent some time up on the space station, reviewing the fleet and attending the commissioning of new battlecruisers.  In all that time, I’ve never run into an Iteeche.”

“Me neither,” Jack said.

They considered that startling fact for a long moment.  Then Kris said, “If Ray really doesn’t know any of the goings on inside the Iteeche Empire, then Crossie must be as much in the dark.”  Again, Kris shook her head.  “Strange that we’re being tasked to fill in the holes in Crossie’s intelligence.”

“Does anyone have any information?” Jack asked.  “Is there any chance you could set up a play date with your brother’s brood and while the kids are having fun you could pump him for anything he’s heard?”

Kris nodded agreement.  While one hundred and seven-three planets were joined together in the United Society, each had been independent after the breakup of the Society of Humanity.  They were sovereign planets then and every last one of them was stubborn about surrendering even one drop of that independence to the United Society.

Or United Societies if they were really independent minded.

Wardhaven was one of the largest and most developed planets out on the rim of human space, both before and after the break up.  It made its own contribution to the Navy and Army as well as Exploration Corps and Intelligence Agency, all of which flew the Wardhaven flag.  Kris strongly suspected that if King Ray knew something, Kris’s father, the prime minister of Wardhaven, knew it as well.  Her brother, Hanovi, stood at father’s right hand; he would be in the know if anyone was.

“Yeah, let’s put the family connection to work,” Kris said, then added, “I also think a visit to Aunt Trudy is also in order.”

Trudy had been the Chief of Information Warfare for Wardhaven prior to and during the Iteeche War.  She knew information management from the byte up.  During her retirement, she also had an uncanny tendency to win the lottery when she needed money for computer research and upgrades.  Her computer might be the only one that could stand toe to toe with Nelly, but he had refused to touch Nelly the one time Kris had asked if they could do anything about her independent tendencies.

Nelly had, almost, started a war between Wardhaven and Greenfeld one midnight watch.

“Nelly, could you ask Aunt Trudy for a time when I could drop by and make some wonderful chocolate chip cookies with her?”

There was a brief pause before Nelly said, “She would rather come here to talk with you.”

Jack and Kris exchanged puzzled frowns.  Kris had figured that Trudy would want Kris to enter her web so she would have everything she needed at her fingertips.

“We can at least lay out our questions,” Jack said, “and she can bring the answers back another time.”

Kris considered that.  They did have six weeks, maybe more.  There was time.

“Okay, tell her tomorrow evening is open,” Kris said.

“She’d like to drop by this evening,” Nelly replied.

Kris and Jack’s frowns deepened.  “Do you think, by any chance,” he said, “that we’re the last to be let in on the know?”

“I’m starting to feel that way.  Nelly, tell her we’d be glad to have her drop by any time.  If she gets here for dinner at six, we’ll set another place and add a bit more water to the soup.”  As if Lotty wasn’t ready to serve a small army on an hour’s notice.

“Aunt Trudy says she’ll be here at six sharp and is prepared to stay late,”

Chapter 6

Supper was pretty much a rerun of yesterday’s, only the guest had half the number of arms, legs and eyes and didn’t eat raw fish. Still, Aunt Trudy held the kids’ attention with stories of new games they’d probably like.  When they excitedly begged to play them, she had her computer, Sam, upload them to their own computers.

“Ruth, I’ve got a nifty search engine you’d probably love.  Do you have a lot of questions about things?”

Ruth shyly shook her head no.

“Oh, yes she does,” Kris countered with a soft motherly smile at all the “Why mommy’s” from her daughter.  Even John was starting to ask why every time he turned around.

It must be contagious.

“Well, I have a search engine you might really like.  It will find anything you ask it to on the net.  It will also remember anything you tell it to.  Then it builds a storage tree so you can find it anytime you want.  Have you had something and then found you couldn’t find it a week later?”

Now Ruth nodded, still silently.  Apparently, the cat had her tongue.

“Then I’ll have Sam upload it to your computer.  It’s a big one, so it may take a while.”

“Mommy says I have a very smart computer, but it’s not as smart as mommy’s computer.”

“Are you ready to have your computer argue with you or maybe tell you no?” Kris asked.

Ruth shook her head.  She hated the word no.

After the children had cleaned their plates, except for a few widely-scattered vegetables on Johnnie’s, the two were only too happy to be taken out by their nanny to play with their new found games.”

“Are those games, or a sneaky way of educating them?” Kris asked.

“Education should be fun, not sneaky,” Trudy said, primly.  “Now, where’s the most secure room in this house?”  She rummaged in her bra and produced a data chip.

“We have one in the basement,” Kris said.

“Then I suggest we adjourn for whiskey, cigars and paranoia.”

A few minutes later they were sitting across a small table.  While the walls were three layers of concrete cinder blocks thick, the inside was Smart MetalTM.  That made it easy to pull three comfortable chairs and a table out of the dull gray walls, floor and ceiling.

“How many nanos did we walk in with?” Kris asked Nelly.

“My defenders nabbed three airborne trying to get in with you.  Jack, you’re making noise.  Not much, but there’s something working on you somewhere.”

Jack took off his coat, and a peg appeared on the wall for him to hang it on.  Coatless, he crossed to the far side of the room.

“Sorry, Jack, you’re still singing,” Nelly said.

He slid out of his pants and repeated the process.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not taking off my underwear,” Jack said.

“Try your shoes,” Trudy said.  “Sam thinks it’s coming from low on you.”

In his stocking feet, Jack again retreated to the far corner from his clothes.

“Bingo,” Nelly said.  “It’s the shoes.”

Jack tossed them out of the secure room.  Nelly sent a couple of nanos to search it out and capture it while Jack got back into his uniform . . . shoeless.

“I wonder how long I’ve been carrying that beggar?”  Jack muttered.  “Nelly, why didn’t you find it before?”

“I’m sorry Jack, but it was a sleeper, making almost no noise, and what it did make managed to hide in the background clutter.  I would have spotted it the moment it went live and tried to move or do a data dump, but when it’s just sleeping and recording . . .” Kris could almost hear the shrug in Nelly’s voice.

“Maybe we should drop in here for a security check every day after work,” Kris said.

“Or build one of these at the office and run through it every lunch,” Jack added.

“I wonder who put all that work into a really silent bug?” Trudy muttered, half to herself.

Kris shook her head.  “It wouldn’t surprise me if one of the admirals I work with, or rather against, had someone knock together something different.”

“Oh, right, it is budget war time,” Trudy said, eyes lighting up. “How I do not miss those days.  But why bug Jack?”

“We cry on each other’s shoulders.” Jack said.

“Umm,” Trudy said, dismissing that from her mind.  “Whoever it is, I wonder if they got the download from your visit with Ray.  That will scare the shit out of them.  Bugging the king’s throne room is not a misdemeanor.”

Kris shrugged it off.  She had bigger fish to fry.  Or maybe calamari.  “What’s on that data chip?”

She handed it to Kris who laid the thing on her collar bone where Nelly rested.  A moment later her computer had absorbed the chip and accessed the data.

“Nelly, put up the star map I just gave you,” Trudy said.

Hanging in the air in front of the far wall, a 3D hologram showed stars.  Kris easily recognized human space.  The inhabited planets glowed in yellow against the others that were white.  She’d seen that map enough times that it jumped right out at her.

Human space covered less than a fifth of the map.  Off to the right, a whole lot of planets glowed blue.

“And the blue ones are?” she said.

“That,” Trudy said, “is a certified accurate map of the Iteeche Empire.”

Kris’s eyes grew wide.  “Someone mapped the Empire!”

“The Iteeche have, of course.  What with ships dashing around the galaxy and not everyone navigating as finely as your Nelly, we finally agreed that any of our ships returning from Alwa, Susquan or that new one you found, Shown, might need to know if there’s an occupied system they could drop in on and maybe get critically needed reaction mass or air.  The Wasp was lucky.  We may not be so lucky next time.”

“So, aid to distressed travelers will be one of my first treaties.”

“Yes, please.  All we’ve agreed to so far is not to kill any interlopers.  Return is open for negotiations.”

“Understood,” Kris said, with a thoughtful nod.

“Now, Nelly, let’s show some political geography.  Display the boundaries of the satraps and their capitals.  You can do the same for the human alliances.”

The map took on gentle shadings.  Kris got up to get a good look at what it was trying to show.  She ended up walking into the map.

“You got all this from the Iteeche?” Jack asked, startled that they had agreed to give the humans a map of planets to target if there was another war.

“And they got all that from us,” Trudy pointed out.  “There are a few more things you might be interested in.  Nelly, show the capital planet.  Since Kris is going to be living there for three to five years, you might like to know how crowded it is.”

A number began flashing.  “One point five billion square kilometers of land,” Kris breathed.  “Wardhaven is only 550 million square kilometers, a bit bigger than Earth.”

“And their population is over twenty billion.  Ouch.  That’s crowded,” Nelly added, with a comment Kris could agree with.

“You might want to ask your friend Ron how comfortable the Imperial precinct are,” Trudy said.

“Are they going to provide housing or will we have to buy something next door for an embassy?”  Kris winced; what would she use for money?

“Another thing to ask your four-eyed buddy,” Trudy answered, her lips drawn tight.

Right, Trudy was of that age where the only good Iteeche was a dead Iteeche.  Kris would have to make sure the kids didn’t pick up any of that language from their Auntie Tru or anyone else.

“What do you know?”  Jack asked Trudy.

“Well, if you ask Nelly real nice she can tell you the population of every Iteeche planet.  We’ve also included which planets are making battlecruisers like yours and how many they’ve commissioned in the last five years.”

“How do you know that?” Kris asked.

“Because we have technicians helping them spin them out.  They’re making the Smart Metal themselves but we kind of kept a lock on the programming.  They need a human to finish the build, just like we need an Iteeche to finish the powering up of our new ships.  I bet you didn’t know that.”

“I know we have Iteeche on any stations building battlecruisers, but no one said why,” Kris admitted.

“You’d think somebody doesn’t trust somebody,” Jack said.

“Yeah, if things go sideways, we might find our ships with no power and they might find their ships converting to a fine mist.”

“You think so?” Kris asked.

“Despite everything I do my best to know, no, I don’t know that for sure,” Trudy said.  “But I do know the twisted minds that came up with this trade and I wouldn’t put it past them.  What do you think Ray would do faced with this kind of a swap?”

Kris rolled her eyes.  “I know I’ve been told not to mention anything about some of our weapons technology,” Kris said vaguely.

“You mean the beam weapons?” Trudy said with a Cheshire cat grin.

“You know about them?” really didn’t surprise Kris.

Trudy tossed the question off with a slight wave of her hand and a vague, “I may have overheard it in a restaurant.”  Then she got serious.  “The Iteeche helped us power up those beam ships that saved the adorable cute ass of that little girl I shared dinner with before she could even be born, so yes, the Iteeche know something about the beam weapon, but they were kept out of the weapons bays on those things.  Reactor, yes, your quarters, yes, anything close to the weapon and a Marine would step on all four of their feet.”

“Was there a lot of stepping on feet?” Jack asked.

“You couldn’t blame them for trying, but after the first couple of incidents the head honchos on each ship got taken aside and politely asked to control their people or some folks might be shipped back on the next slow boat.  They got the word and quit trying.”

“Entirely?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Trudy said with a small impish grin.  “One or two folks we had already identified as intelligence plants kept right on trying.  We fed them enough for the Iteeche to build something like the beam weapons, but with critical things missing and a few additional little tidbits added.  If they built a prototype based on what they got from us, it’s going to make a big hole in some planet.  Hopefully, they’ll test it out first on some airless rock with no population except sneaky types that deserve what they get.”

“So, we trust the Iteeche about as far as we can throw one,” Jack said.

“Pretty much,” Trudy agreed.

Kris studied the map.  “So,” she said pensively, “we now know the geography of the Empire.  We know its capability for building ships, or at least we know where our people are needed to help them build ships . . .”

“You think they’re building ships behind our back?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know that they aren’t,” Kris said.

“You’re a paranoid one,” Trudy said.

“I’m a damn Longknife,” Kris pointed out, with a tight, little smile, then went on. “And we know their political structures.  Trudy, do we know anything about these satraps?  Who leads them, and how did they get to be top squid?”  This was another word left over from the Iteeche War that Kris would have to be careful who she said it around.

“Not a clue,” Trudy said.  “We’ve got our folks looking for any hint of the Empire’s internal mechanics, but nothing.  The Iteeche know that Ray does not command all of human space and that some of the associations that work with the US to protect the other sentient species go their own way, though I’m none too sure they understand it.  We had to tell them about our political divisions.  As for them, all we know is that the Emperor is some kind of divine presence or representative or who knows what and that everyone obeys his will.”

“No human has ever had that kind of power,” Kris said.

“And most who were said to have it were the closest things to puppets,” Nelly pointed out.

Jack shook his head.  “When we had guys running around insisting they had the divine right of kings on their side, their sway was pretty limited.”

“And usually it wasn’t long until someone came along and claimed to be more divine and more right and kicked their butt,” Kris said.

“Yeah,” Trudy agreed.

“But we know nothing?” Kris asked, again.

“Nothing but what you can make out from this map.”

Kris sighed.  “So, we play blind man’s bluff.”

“With very sharp knives pointed at little old blindfolded you,” Trudy concluded.

“God help us,” Jack breathed.

Chapter 7

Over the next few weeks, Kris found herself in a juggling act, trying to balance her existing job while setting things up for her next.  Her days went long and the kids got shortchanged.  They knew it and became very clinging when she did finally get home.

There was humor to be had.  Once the word got out that Kris would be leaving in six to ten weeks, everyone and his or her brother or sister, dog or cat started buying tickets in the lottery.  Kris settled it by giving the money in it to a half dozen charities helping the poor find better jobs or helping sailors stay out of trouble.  There was some grumbling, but it was all good hearted.

In a quiet moment, Kris had a talk with Nelly about giving Meg one of Nelly’s kids.

“It’s going to cost a medium sized fortune,” Nelly pointed out.

“For one kid?” Kris didn’t quite squeak.

“Twelve,” Nelly countered.

“Twelve?” Kris echoed, and got ready for some serious negotiations.  “You want to add a dozen kids to your brood?

“Megan,” Nelly said, and Kris could almost see her raising one finger.  “You’re going to want to leave Admiral Kitano with one of my kids if she does come back here and take your job.”

“Yeah,” Kris admitted.  Too many of the senior admirals in the battlecruiser commands were former Battle Force or Scout Force retreads who had seen the battlecruiser’s squadron, task force and fleet commands as a great way to add a star or two to their flags fast.

Unfortunately, except for one or two, they were very stuck in their ways and Kris and her skippers and division commanders, all young Turks with different ideas from their elders on how to use the ships, spent as much time fighting them as they did the other two forces.

Who would take over for Kris weighed heavy on her mind.

“Okay, if Kitano comes here, I’ll spring for a computer for her.”

“Amber will likely bring her wife to serve as her chief of staff, a job you’ve never filled, and she will need a flag lieutenant.  I spend a big chunk of my time helping Megan.  Even if this emissary job hadn’t come up, I’d have recommended you give one of my kids to her for a Christmas present.”

“Four,” Kris said, holding up that many fingers.

“Ruth and Johnnie, as well as the senior nanny,” Nelly said.

“You think they’re ready?” Kris asked.

“If they aren’t now, they will be well before your five year mission is over.”

“Okay, seven,” Kris agreed.

“Jack will be wearing too many hats.  “Whoever gets command of your security detail needs one of my kids.  If the commander of your protection battalion is not the head of your security detail, you’ll need two.”

“You think there will be that many people involved in my protection?”

“I intercepted a call from Special Agent Commanding Tailor Foyle to his wife asking if she would be willing to spend the next five years at the Iteeche court.”

“You intercepted that call?”

“I was kind of looking for it and it wasn’t on a secure line.”

Kris shook her head.  Privacy was not a concept that came easily to Nelly.  “Okay, nine.”

“Ten.  How much you want to bet me that that cute agent Leslie Chu comes along with him?”

“No bet,” Kris said, smiling.  She’d been following Leslie’s social media presence.  Most of it involved passing along every fact or rumor about Kris.  It saved Kris from doing a search on herself, and usually was more thorough than the ones she had done.

“Ten,” Kris agreed.

“That leaves two.  On second thought, I want self-organizing matrix for fourteen new kids, with some left over.  Are you going to include a science team?”

“Of course, and if Amanda and Jacques come back from Alwa, Amanda will want a computer, and Jacques’ will need upgrading.”

“Make it sixteen,” Nelly said, demand not quite absolute in her voice.

“Order the matrix,” Kris said, surrendering.

Getting more of Nelly’s kids for her staff was a whole lot easier than getting a staff.  After waiting a week for a Chief of Missions to be named by King Ray, she decided she needed to talk to her father, the prime minister.

While the United Society was a monarchy of some sort, the United Parliament was still squabbling over how much to fund the king’s own staff and whether the prime minister, an old fellow that did very little, should have a full set of cabinet officials working for him and which, if any, should have a full ministry working for them.  The parliament had established quite a few committees and seemed more interested in passing specific regulations for the planetary governments to apply themselves than laws that a central bureaucracy could define and implement themselves.  The supreme court for the United Society was still not funded.

So long as the U.S. prime minister just bumbled about, Grampa Ray had a freer hand, but a hand without a lot of reach.  Filling that void at present were the separate planets and their established governments.

For example, Wardhaven not only still had its own Navy and Army, but also a Foreign Minister and a full set of functioning embassies on places like Greenfeld, Earth, Geneva, Musashi, and several dozen others.  Quite a few minor planets in the United Society as well as the colonies funded from Wardhaven had signed up with Wardhaven to meet the needs of their citizens for assistance while traveling and information in general.

Interestingly, not all of those planets affiliated with Wardhaven were members of the United Society.  Go figure.

In effect, Wardhaven was leading its own little confederacy.

The United Society was still working on how that “United” thingy was supposed to work.

Kris made an appointment to see her father.  It came back immediately, so the next day, decked out in full dress whites with all the sparkles, Kris presented herself at her father’s office at 0830 and was quickly ushered in.

“Good God, Daughter, how did you come by all that stuff?”

“They’re called medals, orders and awards, Dad, or fruit salad if you want to be sarcastic.  It warns anyone in uniform that I’ve killed a whole lot of aliens, and probably a few humans as well.  If you’re smart, don’t cross me.”

Her father chuckled softly.  “No doubt, and kid, I know you have,” he said softly.

Kris was surprised to see the concern on her father’s face.  Likely he had never come face to face with such concrete evidence of what his daughter did for a living.

“Hi, Sis,” Hanovi said, as he stood off from the book case he’d been leaning against.  He was inevitably in their father’s shadow, both literally and figuratively.  “You do make a pretty picture.”

“It’s what gives me nightmares at night,” Kris told him.

“Do you think this embassy job will be a lot less stressful?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Brother,” Kris admitted, as her father motioned his two offspring toward overstuffed chairs around a low table.  “Can I offer you something to drink?  Coffee?  Tea?  Some might think it a bit little early for the good stuff, but it’s negotiable.”

“I’ll take tea,” Kris said.  “Chamomile, if you have it.”

“No caffeine.  No alcohol.  I thought you joined the Navy, not a convent,” the prime minister growled.

“I gave up caffeine when I was carrying Ruth, then nursing her.  John may have been a uterine replicator baby, but he didn’t need caffeine in his mother’s milk.  By the time I weaned him, I’d discovered I didn’t need the jolt.”

“Even in that job you’ve at Main Navy?” Honovi asked.  “I’ve seen some dog fights over budgets, but what you have over there is full scale warfare.”

Kris rolled her eyes at the ceiling.  “Yeah.  I’m not sure which worries me more.  Leaving my beloved battlecruisers before their doctrine is finalized or discovering what kind of monsters lurk under the rocks of the Iteeche Imperial Court.”

The prime minister handed Kris her tea, then got coffee for himself and Honovi.

No one had anything to say, so they all sipped their preferred morning libations in silence.

Billy Longknife, the politician, was never one to stay quiet very long.  No surprise to Kris, he broke the silence.

“What do you think got into the Iteeche to suddenly ask for an embassy from us hated humans?” he asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Kris admitted.  “I tried to get in touch with my Iteeche friend, only to find that his squadron of ships had sailed off to visit several of the other space stations with yards and Iteeche compounds.  It bothers me that he’s not here to answer questions, but I guess he knows what he’s doing.”

Kris eyed her father.  “Hopefully, I’ll find out before too long.  If I can’t figure out why I’m there, it’s going to make it awfully hard to achieve much of anything else.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Honovi muttered.  “Hidden agendas are[D1]  the curse of the political class and far too plentiful for my tastes.”

Kris nodded agreement; she’d met enough hidden agendas in the last five years to last her a lifetime.  No doubt she’d find plenty in the Imperial Iteeche court.  “What I do know is that if I’m to accomplish anything I’ll need a seriously overqualified staff, political, as well as intelligence gathering, administrative support and, if no one else has thought about it, we ought to start issuing visas to Iteeche coming here and have a staff to look into any of our folks that get crosswise with the locals in the Empire.  All that should be in addition to the trade negotiations that the business interests are chomping at the bit for me to make happen yesterday.”

“Grampa Al is one of those with the big chompers out,” Honovi told her.  “I took the kids around to see him last week and all he could talk about was ‘cutting a good deal with those damn squid.’  He hardly paid any attention to the kids.  That didn’t bother them.  They hardly looked up from their computers.  God, I rue the day I ever let my kids have those damn toys.”

Kris laughed.  “I took mine by for Thanksgiving.  I made them leave their computers behind.  Between Al being a grump because he didn’t see them often enough and them saying his place smelled funny, it was a short visit.”

“Dad’s place smelled funny?” Kris’s dad asked.

“Actually, it didn’t smell at all.  He had the air so scrubbed that it was a complete puzzle to John and Ruth.”

“Okay, it’s nice to know that your kids don’t like my dad any more than I do, but what really brings you here, Kris?”

“I need an embassy staff.  Grampa Ray is dodging my phone calls so I’m guessing he doesn’t have any idea who he can offer me for support.  Your people are the most experienced I know of, so can you get me a full up, plug-in-and-go-for-it embassy staff?”

“Are you sure you want to staff your team from Wardhaven?  Half the planets in the U.S. can’t stop bitching that Ray’s trying to Wardhavenize the entire union,” the prime minister countered.

“Umm.  I see the problem,” Kris said, thinking.  “What if your Foreign Minister got the word out to his associates on other planets?  Told them that I’m looking for a topnotch staff for this mission and I’m willing to look at any of their best that they’re willing to give me and also willing to pay for.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” Brother said.  “You could wind up with four people in every slot.  Think of how long the morning staff meeting will take.”

“So I use a whip and gun.  I’ve had plenty of experience controlling a zoo.  So long as Pitts Hope or New Eden are paying their salaries, and I get enough of a warning to get a decent food supply in.  Oops.  Who’s going to see that I get regular shipments of fresh food?”

“We had an engineer come back from a year in the Empire, bitching and moaning that he survived the year on dried meat, rice and beans,” Hanovi pointed out.  “Guy refuses to take any more assignments out there.”

“I’m not feeding my growing kids on Army field rations,” Kris said, flatly.

Father nodded thoughtfully.  “We’ll have to set up regular runs between here and the Imperial Iteeche Court.  That should see to it that you and yours get decent food.  We’ll want to ship other things.  You’ll want news from here as much as we want news from you.”  He paused.  “I’ll see what I can do about making it a weekly run, though how we’ll pay for it is beyond me.  I doubt Al will want any ship of his traveling one way with food and coming home empty.”

“Who says it will be empty?” Kris said.

“Right,” Father exclaimed as if a light bulb had lit up above his head.  “Human food and gear one way, Iteeche raw fish and stuff the other way.  Do you think we could arrange for the Emperor to foot the bill for half the shipping?”

“Do you want your diplomatic pouches traveling on an Iteeche ship?” Kris answered a question with a question.

“We’ll have to think about that.  Anything else you need, you pass along to your brother, here, and we’ll make this thing fly.  Yes, we will.  We and the Iteeche are going to talk.  If necessary, talk ourselves to death.  Much better than blasting ships out of space.”

“I certainly hope so,” Kris said.

Father seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts.  He often did that.  Kris took it for dismissal, so she and Honovi kind of tiptoed out, careful not to disturb the Great Man of the People.

“How about I bring the kids by Saturday,” Brother suggested.  “The broods can run and scream in the back garden to their hearts content and we can think about what an outpost hundreds of light years from the nearest human colony might need.”

“A medical detachment,” Kris said, suddenly.  “We’ll need to be ready to handle everything from a hang nail to brain surgery.”

“And maternity,” Honovi pointed out with a grin.  “If someone decides to expand your little outpost, let’s make sure it goes easier on them than it was for you out on Alwa.”

“Oh, God, yes.”

And on that happy thought, the two parted ways for the moment.

Chapter 8

Nelly had plotted almost a hundred different paths between human space and Alwa.  Every convoy to Alwa took one of those routes in random rotation.  The high speed convoy escorted by the Stalwart and her division of battlecruisers must have taken one of the fastest ones there and back.  Two weeks after Kris dispatched her plea to Admiral Kitano for help, the Stalwart was back.

No sooner did the four battlecruisers pop into Wardhaven space than Kris found herself looking at a message flimsy.

I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I LET YOU TALK ME INTO LEAVING ALWA.  I AM NOT ALONE.  KUTTER AND LADUKE AS WELL AS YOUR ABBY AND HER GENERAL STEVE ARE ALSO WITH ME.  HOPE YOU CAN FIND JOBS FOR ALL OF THEM.

ADMIRAL KITANO SENDS.

Kris grinned when she finished reading the flimsy.  Boy, can I.

She was waiting on High Wardhaven Station when the Stalwart sealed locks and went aboard immediately.  A small cluster was waiting for her just beyond the quarterdeck.

If there was anyone looking who was shocked at the sight of two full admirals hugging each other and squeeing with glee, they kept their opinion to themselves.  A moment later, it was a four way as a tall, gorgeous, alabaster-skinned blonde and a dusky-skinned, black-haired beauty joined the hugging. laughing and shouting.

“Abby, you came!” Kris squealed.

“I couldn’t let no Longknife and her kids go in harm’s way without me being there to look over their shoulder or cover their backside.  I heard how you almost misplaced tiny Ruthie without me to look after her.”

“Jack and I enjoyed killing those two,” Kris answered, not letting a bad memory sour this moment of joy.

The said Jack exchanged handshakes with the two other men and a platinum blonde in a Navy captain’s uniform

“I think you know everyone here,” Admiral Kitano said.  “Except I’m not sure you’ve met my wife, Alice Zung.  Kris, you said your chief of staff job was vacant?”

“I never filled it.  All the good battlecruiser captains wanted a division of ships to call their own, and anyone without battlecruiser experience need not apply.”

“Alice has already commanded a squadron of Admiral Benson’s new construction so she’s ripe for a staff job.”

Alice quirked her lips at that, but quickly smoothed her face back to Navy bland.

Before Kris could ask further, she was interrupted by a small parade of short people in bright red ship suits.  Cara, Abby’s niece, led them, and two woman Marines hurried along the last in line, a pair of toddlers, providing them a hand to hold on to.

“And who are these new recruits?” Kris asked.

Confronted by a full admiral’s attention, two of the toddlers bolted for Abby and Amanda.  Abby picked hers up and soothed a pout into a smile.  The other held on to Amanda’s leg and grinned up at mommy.  The other four huddled close to Cara and stared at Kris.

Two of the boys appeared to be identical twins about five.  The other two were unmatched girls and might be three or four.

“We were kind of expecting to keep our roots in Alwa dirt, Kris,” Abby said, “and one thing led to another and boy do we have a baby boom going.  Bruce and Mike, say hello to your Aunt Krissie.  Those two boys showed up before that nice Genetic and Obstetrics clinic you sent us arrived.”

“Somebody was in a hurry,” Kris said, eyeing Abby and the general.  Abby had refused the very thought of marriage and kids.

“The nice thing about not getting killed by bug-eyed monsters is that you can change your thinking on some things,” Abby said, not at all abashed.

“This little girl I’m holding is Topaz,” Abby said, beaming, and gently held the toddler’s hand to make it wave.  The child ducked her head deeper into her mommy’s shoulder.

KRIS, TOPAZ WAS HER MOTHER’S WORKING NAME, REMEMBER?

YES, I DO, Kris answered.  A lot of things must have changed for Abby to use that name.

Amanda took over the child ID.  “The dainty young lady standing with Abby’s boys is Lilly, our first one.  Peter Pierre is the one clutching my hand to keep himself up.”  At that moment, chubby little legs gave out and the boy with the double name plopped down on his rump, but that didn’t stop his snaggletoothed grin up at his mommy.

“Courtney is our daughter,” Admiral Kitano said, lovingly, and the four-year-old girl broke out of the crowd around Cara and raced to one of her mothers, today picking Alice, who was not in such intimidating surroundings.

“Cara, what brings you here?” Kris asked.  She figured her for having a pack of boys around her and set on staying where she was.

Cara scowled.  “I didn’t have anything better to do.”

a boy broke her heart a week before your message for help arrived.  she’s on the rebound.  Abby said on Nelly net.

“Well, I’ve got plenty of things for you to do, Cara.  An entire Empire to look over.  But don’t worry about a date with too many grabby hands.  There will be plenty of us humans around the embassy.”

“Whatever,” Cara said, making a face, but nodding agreement.

“Okay, you kids, come give your Aunt Krissie a hug,” Abby said, as only she could, then added.  “You have nothing to fear.  No doubt, she’s already eaten her quota of bad little boys and girls this week.”

“Auntie Abby is pulling your legs,” Cara said, disgusted at the adults as only a teen could be.

Or was she twenty? Kris thought, and made a note to ask Abby for clarification.  She hardly had time to think that before she was surrounded by a mob of small people hugging her legs.  Even the toddlers came forward.  Bruce and Mike opened a space for them.

A chief led a team of sailors with four flatbed carts loaded down with all the worldly possessions the three families had brought from the other side of the galaxy.  Navy traveled light, and, apparently so did their contractors.

The men oversaw the job of moving most of it into storage on the station.  Since they’d all be shipping out soon enough, there was no need to take much down to Wardhaven.  Kris offered the hospitality of Nuu house to all.  For Admiral Kitano until she and her wife could find quarters and for the rest until they headed out to the unknown.

“That will also put us under your thumb,” Kitano noted.  “You can grab us day or night if something strikes your fancy.”

“Good lord, am I that transparent?” Kris exclaimed in mock shock.

Kris was glad she’d ordered a limo bus; she had not expected the mob of kids, though she should have.  The long coach was waiting for them at the curb when they exited the orbital elevator station.  Its cargo hold was open below the cabin and quickly filled.  Peter had to be hauled out of that space twice.  It looked like a fun way to travel to him.  Amanda ended up holding him tight and taking him aboard the coach first.

While everyone else wrangled baggage and kids, Kris talked to Nelly.

“You better see if one of the other nannies can come in today.  If they need child care, tell them to bring theirs along.  The more the merrier.  Also, call the agency and see if they can get two more out to us at least for this shift, and maybe more.  As I see it, we’ve got eight kids.  We adults have got to outnumber them at least four to one or they’ll take over the world.”

“Can’t argue with that idea,” Abby said, coming up to stand with Kris.  “Also, I hope we can find something for Cara to do besides babysit.  She was a good sport on the trip back here, considering that we spent half of it in eggs.  Still, I want her to have a life of her own, not following me around like a love-sick puppy.”

“Was it a bad break up?”

“The worst.  It was going great guns right up to the time when his folks asked about her folks.  She did her best to pass me off, but they knew I was her aunt.  What with no known father and her mother a ‘working woman,’ it went downhill fast.”

“How’d they get that idea in their heads?”

Abby snorted.  “Some administrative genius shipped a complete database of all planets’ vital statistics and general information.  They dug through it and found the section for New Eden.”

“Damn,” Kris said.

“Yeah.  You can run all the way across the galaxy and still find some damn bigoted people.”

“Is that why you came back?”

Abby shook her head.  “It’s been fun running things.  I loved it, but you can only take so much of this ‘I’ll wash your hand if you’ll wash mine’ stuff.  We’ve all managed to show up here with enough of that weed to make us fabulously wealthy, but Amber is ready to take up your harness and the rest of us are only too happy to chase off after you and the unknown.  Thanks for the call.”

“Five years was about all I could swallow of a desk job,” Kris admitted.  “I was wondering if I could get my old jobs back on Alwa when this came up.  Fascinating how life twists and turns.”

“Trust me, gal, your old job ain’t what it used to be.  Even the Alwans are all busy chasing after the almighty dollar.  You wouldn’t recognize the place today.”

The coach was loaded.  They boarded and were soon headed for home.

Chapter 9

The quiet of Nuu House was shattered by their arrival, not that it had been all that silent.   Two of Harvey and Lottie’s grandkids had come over for a play date with Kris’s kids.  Mai had the duty today and had brought her own tyke with her.  Soon there were eleven wild pixies chasing each other through the halls, getting underfoot and enjoying themselves immensely.

Mai and Cara did their best to keep up with the kids while their parents took their baggage upstairs.  Kris was busy assigning rooms.  She wanted all of them right next door to her, but that was impossible.  Admiral Kitano got the suite of rooms down the hall from Kris’s.  That left Abby and Amanda’s families making do with the single bedrooms and baths on the next floor up.  At least kids would be right next to their parents.

Kris could only imagine what tonight would be like.

Reinforcements began to arrive.  Gabby Arvind, the senior nanny who had replaced the one Kris lost while resolving the Peterwald civil war, arrived first, with her ten-year-old Sushama in tow.  The agency’s two additional young women were not far behind.  One of them was a qualified preschool teacher and brought enough computers to get the eight older kids interested in games that had them walking politely around the house looking for clues to something or trying to capture little what’s-its.

“So long as the kids are quiet,” Amanda said, “I don’t care if there are rats the size of elephants in your basement or spiders the size of water buffalos in your attic, let them hunt.”

Kris chose not to argue the sanitation of Nuu House.  It was old enough to have a ghost or two, but she hadn’t seen a rat since she was nine and brought one home in a cage.  Poor thing, it died after only a month and Kris gave up on pets.

Supper that evening was a fine affair.  The kids settled down to something more age appropriate in the kitchen leaving the grownups to a more leisurely meal in the dining room.  In addition to the three couples, Kris saw to it that Cara got a seat at the grownup’s table and a bit of respect.  Gabby was also invited to sit down; Kris needed to examine her child care options in an alien Imperial capital.

As the salad was passed around, Kris got down to business.  “Gabby, are you interested in a job running a day care for an embassy all to hell and gone in Iteeche territory?”

The dusky-skinned woman studied her salad.  Like O’Mally before her, she was a twenty year veteran and arms qualified.  “We’d heard that you might be a tiny bit bored with your desk job.  We’ve kind of been examining our hole cards for if you got itchy feet and most of us have had a go bag packed for a while.  Can you find jobs for our husbands or is this going to be an unaccompanied tour?”

Kris glanced around the table at the new arrivals from Alwa.  “I’m told I could get booted out of the capital in a couple of months, or it could be a five year tour.  I intend it to be accompanied unless someone objects to taking their kids deep into supposedly peaceful territory,” she said, eyeing her new arrivals.

“Hell, Kris, we’ve been living out in the bulls-eye for the alien raiders,” Abby drawled.  “I figure me and mine can survive living high on the hog, or big fish, or whatever it is in Iteeche land.  We’re in for the duration.”

“So are we,” Amanda said, exchanging a knowing smile with Jacques.  “He’s been threatening to drag me and the kids off to the alien home world for a year of digging for artifacts.  I was kind of glad to get your offer.  Cracking the Iteeche enigma!  How could we pass that one up?”

“You really want us to sign up for five years right off the bat?” Gabby asked.

Kris considered that for a moment, then shook her head.  “No.  How about a one year contract with options to mutually extend it for up to five years, at least to start with?  If someone goes native, I guess we could find an ongoing job.”

“And if you get us kicked out after two or three months?” Abby hinted.

“Three months’ severance pay.”

Gabby nodded.  “You’ll want the new hands arms qualified just like we are?”

“Yes.  It would be nice if the husbands at least knew which end of a gun to point away from anyone they didn’t want suddenly dead.”

Gabby smiled at Kris’s joke.  “Okay.  That’s pretty much what I told the agency an hour ago.  As soon as I’m done eating, I’ll give them a call about the length of contract.”

“Okay, with the kids in good hands, it’s one down and several to go before I can drop business and we can get down to digging the dirt.  Our embassy will include at least a thousand Foreign Service types from half a dozen planets and not a few folks from outside the US.  I understand one of my four Chiefs of Mission will be from Greenfeld.”

“How are things there?” Abby asked.

“Much better.  I’ll tell you about Vicky’s little civil war with her stepmum when we have some time.  We haven’t had an assassination attempt on my life that could be traced back to a Peterwald in, oh, forever.”

“Must be nice,” Abby said.

“Yes, now it’s admirals who are standing in line to stick a knife in my back,” Kris grumped.

“Does that bring us to me?” Admiral Kitano asked.

“I might as well.  I’m hoping you and Alice will be up to riding in with me to work tomorrow.  I can start showing you the ropes, where the land mines are buried, you know, the easy stuff.”

“We’ll be ready,” Amber said.

“Amanda and Jacques, I figured you’ll want to put together a team to help deconstruct the economy and life-style of the rich and famously sorting too many arms.”

“We were making up a list on the trip here,” Amanda said.  “It’s been six years since I talked with any of these people, so circumstances may have changed, but Jacques and I intend to get right on the selection process.”

“Let me warn you about one thing,” Kris said.  “There are a lot of sharks circling this embassy.  A whole lot of folks like my Grampa Al see money to be made.  Obscene amounts of money.  I need for your teams to be mine.  To be looking under rocks and stuff for my purposes.  I don’t want your team leaking stuff out early to just a few or them having some agenda that isn’t mine.”

“You’re blunt,” Jacques said, “but I can understand what you’re getting at.  We’ll do our best to avoid anything like that, but we can’t hand out any guarantees.  If you say there’s a lot of money on the table, it means there’s a lot of money to pass under the table.”

“I know,” Kris admitted.  “I just want you aware of our potential problem.  The Iteeche are a tough enough nut to crack without someone skewing the data to their own profit.”

“Understood, Kris,” Amanda said.

“You got any jobs for me and Steve?” Abby asked.

“Beside a thousand FSOs, we’ll have at least a battalion of embassy Marines.  The plan is for Jack to be both the military attaché and my security chief.  I don’t want him to have to juggle both those jobs alone.  He’ll have a staff in his attaché office.  A couple of dozen planets and alliances are clamoring to get someone in there.  I want someone to coordinate my security under Jack.  Handle the battalion, as well as liaise with what passes for the local police, palace guard, whatever.  I’ve already got a good man for the police side.  I’d like to have someone coordinating it all.”

“I’m your man,” the much-promoted sergeant said.

“Good.  Now, Abby.”

“I knew you’d get around to me sooner or later.”

“A thousand diplomats and a thousand more Marines are only the start.  I’m need a support staff not all that smaller for them.  We’ll be completely detached from the local economy, at least to start with.  All our food and other essentials, as well as luxuries, will have to be imported from back home.  I’m working on getting a weekly resupply shipment.  We’ll need something passing both ways for the diplomatic pouch.  My question is how do I feed, clothe and entertain all these people?”

“You want something that combines both the supply division and the Forward Lounge on the old Wasp, only on steroids,” Abby said.

“Considering where we’re going, I figure we’ll need quite a few different places to eat, as well as a central cafeteria that’s cheaper, if not free.”

“I’d like a mess hall for my Marines,” Bruce tossed in.

“You can have one,” Abby said, “so long as it shares the same kitchen with my cafeteria.”

“Fine by me.  I don’t want my Marines complaining that they get worse chow than the civilian pukes.”

“Will I need to staff a hospital?” Abby asked.

“I’m not sure.  I know we’ll be getting a dozen doctors.  That may sound like a lot, but they’ll also be studying the physiology of the Iteeche as well as our aches and pains.  I’ll see if the Navy plans on covering the entire medical spectrum or if you need to provide contractors.”

“Fine.  I assume you’ll want at least one and likely several stores that can provide everything from soup to nuts to a couch?”

“I don’t know,” Kris said.  “We’re bringing our own furniture.  You might want to include a shop that can cover everything from woodworking to slapping together some electronic gizmo for the researchers.  Hopefully, we can buy some stuff off the Iteeche economy.”

“What we gonna use to pay for it?” Amanda, the ever-alert economist, asked.

“That’s another thing I need to talk to my friendly Iteeche emissary about.”

“You got an Iteeche here?”

“Sort of.  Ron, the Iteeche you and I have met, was here with sixteen Iteeche battlecruisers and the request for me to be emissary to the Iteeche court.  Once he gave me the request, he and his sixteen battlecruisers set out to visit all the stations with Iteeche enclaves on them.  He hasn’t come back yet, so I haven’t got a lot of my questions answered.”

“They needed sixteen battlecruisers to bring one guy here?” Abby asked, a deep frown forming her eyebrows into a V.  “Is my paranoia acting up or does that seem like way too much overkill?”

“Grampa Ray intends to send me with thirty-two battlecruisers.  It’s a king thing.  I get the same escort and honor guard as he would take.”

Except for Abby, everyone else around the table seemed to think that was a good enough answer.  Abby just shook her head and muttered something like “those damn Longknifes.”

Kris chose to ignore her.  “So, I want you to pull some of your old strings and see what they think we need and who they think we should hire.  Give them the same contract we’re offering the nannies.  One year, mutually extendable to five years, with a new contract after that.”

Abby nodded.  “I already checked.  Your Grampa Trouble is in town.  He knows the best people for burying the bodies.”

“Okay, now I move that all further business be outlawed.  What have you all been up to?  But first, Amber, have any aliens been sniffing around Alwa?”

“We’ve had problems here and there.  The aliens won’t leave us alone and the cats are a handful and everyone on Alwa is, well, Alwan.  Grand Admiral Santiago has handled everything pretty well,” the Alwa Battlecruiser Force commander replied.

“We’ve gotten some cold datums from ships running between here and Alwa.  Nothing strong.  Probably a small mining ship like the first one that attacked you.  When we sent a task force out to check on them we find them long gone.  We dropped those two routes off the approved list after that.”  Admiral Kitano paused for a moment to think.

“The aliens are building some new ships with better lasers and reactors.  We’ve run into them and had a few fights.  Sometimes they fight, sometimes they just ran away.  We think some of the young bucks think they can do better than their old man, but so far, no full wolf packs have shown up.  Admiral Santiago is figuring the next big fight may be a whole lot tougher. As best we can tell, the aliens have gotten tired of being mowed down by you with nothing really to show for it and they’re hunkering down for now, thinking about it.”

“If they’re really smart, they’re doing a hell of a lot of thinking,” Abby said.

“Hopefully about how to negotiate a peace treaty,” Kris said without too much hope in her voice.

“More like working on something really bad,” Abby said.

“Okay, this is too close to work.  Now, Abby, twins?”

“Yep, but I got a whole lot of foot rubs from Steve here for carrying the two hellions in my own way too small womb.”

That got the first laugh of the evening.  There were a whole lot more where those came from.

Chapter 10

Kris, Jack, Amber and Alice were up early and made it to Main Navy a half an hour before the usual start of their day.  No surprise, Megan was already at her desk with four cups of foamy coffee.

“If you don’t like what I got Admiral Longknife, Admiral Kitano, I put a fresh pot of black coffee on.”

“What does Kris take?” Amber asked.

“Whatever she gets me that doesn’t have caffeine,” Kris said.  “It’s supposed to keep me from becoming an old stick in the mud.”

“Well, far be it from me to be old and stodgy,” Amber said, and sipping it, she made a surprised face.  “It’s quite good.  Alice, try a cup.”

As Alice did, Kris eyed Megan.  “Four cups of morning coffee?  Over a half hour early?  What gives?”

“I asked Nelly to wake me up when you did and traffic was light.”

“Nelly?”

“She asked, Kris.  I couldn’t blame her, wanting to make a good first impression, so yes, I did.  Sue me.”

“I see Nelly is her same old self,” Amber said.

“Speaking of Nelly,” Kris said, “She and I have agreed that you and Alice, as well as whoever you dragoon into replacing Megan here deserve to have one of her children to help you fight off all the stick-in-the-mud Navy types who don’t understand battlecruisers and what you need to fight them properly.”

“I don’t get to keep your flag lieutenant?” Amber asked, eyeing Megan.

“Nope, she’s already signed up to go with me.  There’s no accounting for tastes, is there?” Kris said, eyeing Megan.

She grinned and gave all three a shrug.

Kris went on.  “However, I have asked her to suggest who might be her replacement.  She not only knows what coffees I might like, but she’s hooked into the Junior Officers’ Grapevine and knows most of what happens in this building before Field Marshall Mac does.”

“A critical skill.  Do you have anyone lined up for me to interview?” Amber asked.

“I’ve got four for you: two guys and two gals.  They’re all good.  None of them want to leave their present jobs but they wouldn’t pass up a chance to join Battlecruiser staff.”

“Line them up for me after lunch,” Amber said.  “Is there any chance we might get two of them?  I’d like both an Aide de Camp as well as a Flag Lieutenant.  Kris, you’ve always been too thin on staff.  Admiral Santiago has taught me the wisdom of having enough people on staff to make sure that everything gets done.  Done in something like a real eight-hour day.”

Now it was Kris’s turn to shrug.  “I may not have been a good role model,” she admitted.

“Ya think,” Amber retorted.  “Alice, I want you to sit in with me.  We’ve got to have good chemistry between the three or four of us.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral.”

Kris invited the two new arrivals as well as Megan into a morning staff meeting that went long and covered just about everything that was on the front burners.  After a break, Kris took Amber and Alice up to meet Mac.  He promised to work with them as evenhandedly as he had with Kris.

“And maybe at a little less frantic pace?” he half said, half asked, and, likely, half begged.

“We shall see, sir,” Amber said.  “You learn to walk plenty fast on Alwa Station.”

“Oh, God, please don’t tell me that the princess has hatched a whole solar system full of people just like her?”

“I’ll never tell,” Amber said, grinning from ear to ear, which produced a dimple Kris had never seen before.

Well, she seems to be settling in fast.

As Kris was leaving, Mac asked her to stay behind.  Amber went on her way and Kris settled in for some serious talk about what she was getting herself into.  Jack was called in and given hints as to what Mac really wanted from a military attaché.

“We want anything and everything you can get on their ground and space forces.  We’ve got rough intelligence, but a lot of it dates back to the war and never was all that good.  We want everything.  Specifics on weapons, doctrine, how they get those four-legged monsters to march in step.  What do you think, Jack?”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“But I will not have Jack risk being declared persona non grata.  My kids need a father.”

Mac rolled his eyes.  “Okay, okay, General, do what you can, okay?”

“Give me some good junior military attachés, that you don’t mind being sent home early, and I’ll see what I can get for you, sir,” Jack said this time.

Mac didn’t mention anything about the task force he intended to assign to escort Kris to her new post.  Maybe he hadn’t yet decided.  Maybe someone else would decide.  Later Kris would wish that had been part of this conversation.

That night, Kris invited Megan to a sleep over at Nuu House.  Nelly distributed her new children to Amber, Alice, and Megan.  Amanda finally got her very own Nelly kid computer and Jacques’ got upgraded.  Some the matrix for his child had been used up in several different fights before he got it.

Abby and Steve already wore Nelly’s kids at their collar bones.  They, with Kris and Jack, slept with their doors open, listening for anything that went majorly wrong.  If there were nightmares, they were not accompanied by screams.

Over breakfast the next morning, there was talk of strange dreams, dreams that drew on memories, some long forgotten, but no one complained of nightmares.  Nelly seemed to be getting better at bringing her children awake and making that very first interface between her kids and their human partners go very smoothly.

Two nights later, it was time to invite Senior Chief Agent in Charge Taylor Foile of Kris’s Secret Service detail, as well as Leslie Chu, now of the Secret Service, and Gabby Arvind, Kris’s senior nanny and give them computer pals.  They were invited to spend Friday evening and the rest of the night at Nuu House with their spouses, or, in Leslie’s case, a boyfriend.

Kris had to avoid smiling too often; she’d grownup in Nuu House and it was familiar to her.  Clearly, the intimate others were gobsmacked to walk through the world that their lovers had grown blasé about with familiarity.  Kris gave them plenty of time to adjust, and a delicious dinner from Lotty’s kitchen before she broached the issue of the night.

After desert was finished, a delicious French silk chocolate pie, topped with whipped cream and more chocolate dripped upon it, Nelly had Marines bring in small boxes of cherry wood and set them in the spot vacated by Taylor, Leslie and Gabby’s desert plate.

“Nelly is not only a computer,” Kris began for the significant others at the table, “but also a mother.

That drew surprised looks from only those three at the table.

“Seven of us seated here have shared our lives, some for quite a few years, with, in my case, Nelly herself, and in the other cases, with Nelly’s children.  What we’re doing tonight is introducing your husband, your wife, your girlfriend, to one of Nelly’s newborn children.”

“You had Marines bring the computers in,” Mrs. Foile observed.

“Yes,” Kris said.  “Nelly’s kids are extremely cutting edge technology.  Each of these three computers cost about half as much as one of my battlecruisers.”

That brought surprise from the three visitors, but none from the others at the table.

“Let me get this right, you intend to have my husband walking around with a fortune around his neck.  Excuse me, but what’s to keep someone from hitting him over the head and stealing this device?”

“That’s a good question,” Kris said.  “Nelly, you want to explain that?”

“Yes, Kris.  Mrs. Foile, I and my children are self-aware.  If anyone were to try to separate us from our imprinted human, we would refuse to work.  We would simply shut down.  We won’t add so much as two and two.  To the outside world, we are catatonic.”

“This fact of life has been spread among certain networks,” Kris put in.  “Let’s say that both my grandfather Al and the criminal elements in human space, which may be the same, I’m never too sure, all know that Nelly’s kids won’t do them any good.  In the last five years, no one has tried to hit me over the head and steal Nelly.  Your husband has helped a lot in every aspect of my safety, and now he will be included in my security bubble.  As will you.”

“I thought just agreeing to spending the next five years deep in the Iteeche empire was bad enough.  Now this, Love?”

Agent Foile shrugged.  “As you often say, I’m too close to one of those damn Longknifes.”

Everyone around the table got a laugh at that.

“Pardon me.”  Now it was Leslie Chu’s boyfriend respectfully asking for the floor.

“Yes?” Kris said.

“Why are we here?  Why have the three who are to pair with one of Nelly’s children sleeping over here, tonight?”

“Nelly, I think that’s your question.”

“While you three sleep, my child will be getting to know you.  Deeply.  He or she, as you choose to treat my child, will be learning your wants, desires, skills, and abilities.  When you wake up tomorrow morning, my child will know you better than your spouse does.  You will be prepared to function as a team.”  Nelly paused before continuing.

“The first time my kids got to know humans, there were a few mistakes.  I knew Kris.  I had come aware working with Kris.  I didn’t realize just how close we had become.  What I paid attention to in her head, and what I ignored.  For example, I ignore her nightmares.”  Nelly actually coughed softly before going on.

“My initial brood didn’t know the difference between real memories and memories of dreams and other things that bounce around inside your human heads.  Your fears.  Your recollections of experiences or things you read or saw that disgusted you.  My children brought those memories up, examined them and tried to figure out what to do with them.”

“It was a rough night,” Jack said.

“However,” Admiral Kitano put in, “when we were matched with one of Nelly’s kids just a few days ago, there were no problems.”

“Still,” Nelly said, “we ask you to sleep here tonight so that if my children run into something they can’t handle, we can all help sort it out.”

Mrs. Foile leaned over and gave her husband a gentle kiss on his cheek.  “There are many things about my husband’s job that he will not even share with me.  Yes, I suspect your child may need some help in sorting out all the cases he’s handled.  Even the newspaper reports are enough to nearly give me nightmares.”

“So, you understand,” Kris said, “the invitation for a sleepover.”

“Is there anything we should not do?” Leslie’s boyfriend asked.

“I and my children are very aware of you human’s biological needs,” Nelly said dryly.  “Sex is not off the table.”

“Nelly!” Kris said.

“Kris, they are two healthy, young humans.  You know very well that was the question.”

“Is Leslie going to be stuck with something like Nelly?” her boyfriend asked.

“Nelly and Kris have a unique relationship,” Jack put in.  “Most of us have a friendly and respectful attitude to each other.”

“Yes,” Nelly said, “Kris is the only one who has to put up with my ‘tude.”

The three new humans donned the fine net that sank through their hair to lay directly on their scalp.  The net would never be taken off.  In the future, it would permit them to communicate with their new computer.  Once that was completed, the after-dinner conversation went on in a quite normal vein.  It mostly centered on the challenges that they could already see that they would face during a five-year mission far from human space.  When yawns alerted everyone to the need for sleep, they found their way up to their rooms.

“So,” Jack said, as he undressed.  “Is sex off the table tonight?”

“I’d prefer it to be in the bed,” Kris said, turning to him, molding her naked body to him and kissing him seriously.

Chapter 11

Kris had intentionally delayed finalizing her budget submission.  Over the next few days, she used that process to bring Amber and Alice up to speed on what she’d achieved in the last five years and what she hadn’t.  The reference to going nowhere fast on a treadmill came up a lot.

The new team quickly picked up what they needed to know and began to relieve Kris of her Navy duties.

That left Kris to spend more and more of her time working the political and diplomatic side of her new job.  The more she worked it, the less she liked it.

Then, one morning, an older, striking blonde walked into Kris’s office, sat down and said, “Hello.  I’m Becky Graven.  I’m retired from the Foreign Service but your father suggested that I give up a few games of shuffleboard to help you understand a bit about the diplomatic side of your new job.”

“Becky Graven,” Kris said, slowly.  “Your name sounds familiar.”

“I was really hoping it wouldn’t,” she said, with a soft chuckle.  “I worked with your Great-grandfather Ray when we were both a lot younger.  I did my best to keep my name out of the history books where Savannah was concerned.”

“You were the Chargé d’Affaires on Savannah,” Nelly put in, “when Ray Longknife and you inspired a change in government.  There are strong hints in the record that you were the station chief for the intelligence effort.”

“As I said, I did my best to stay below everyone’s radar,” she admitted with a lovely smile.

“Are you going with me to the Iteeche Court?” Kris asked.

“Oh, heaven no.  I’m sure the Iteeche know my name only too well.  They would not like to see me at all.  At all.”

“Explain yourself,” Kris said.

Becky waved her right hand in the air.  “Is there someplace we can go to talk privately?”

“Nelly, tell Jack I’m canceling his day.  Alert the car and have Jack meet me there.  Amber, you’ve got the shop.  Please don’t sink it.”

“Okay, no sinking.  Can I blow it up?”

“Let me clarify,” Kris said, grinning.  “I want to find the place tomorrow morning relatively the same it is now.”

“Oh, pooh.  You’re a spoilsport.”

“You can start knifing battleship admirals after I’m gone for good.”

“Alice has started a very nice dagger and stiletto collection.”

“You all sound like you’ve been around Longknifes too long,” Becky said.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Meg,” Kris said as she passed through her outer office.  “You’re with me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the lieutenant said, and grabbed her blues coat.

The trip to Nuu house was quick.  Nelly had called ahead for a plate of sandwiches and several pots of coffee and water.  They were waiting in the safe room when they got there.  Nelly took a bit to clean the room.

Becky was amazingly clean.  It was Jack and Megan that had collected spies.

“Kris, I need some Smart Metal for Meg and Jack’s computers so they can operate their own defensive swarm.”

“Requisition it, Nelly.”

When Nelly gave the all clear, everyone was halfway through a sandwich.  While the rest finished, Becky began her explanation.

“Kris, I worked with Ray providing Civil Affairs in the captured Iteeche territory.  I was in charge of several Iteeche planets from the time we captured them until the time they were recaptured.  I ran the closest thing we could to a government.”

“I didn’t know that,” Kris admitted.

“You suddenly own a planet, you have to do something with it,” Becky pointed out.  “Back in human history, Civil Affairs followed the battle forces and did its best to bring the city back up to a decent place to live.  Power, water, food, some sort of justice.  We put things back together so the next government, be it local or foreign, could take over again.”

She paused.  “With the Iteeche, it was a major challenge.”

“Why?” Kris asked.

“You have to understand.  We didn’t know the language.  We didn’t know the customs.  We didn’t know the first thing about these people, economic, political, cultural.  Nothing.  Most of their machinery didn’t make a lot of sense to us.  Nothing seemed computerized.  We had to go back hundreds of years in human history to figure out how all this stuff worked.”

“So, how did it go?” Jack asked.

“Poorly,” Becky admitted.  “We did our best to get food moving from the farms to the cities, but agriculture is a whole lot more complicated than it looks like on the surface.  The farmers used Iteeche night soil as their main fertilizer.  We wondered why they didn’t seem to have any central sewer system.  The shit piled up and we had epidemics on our hands before we realized why farmers were all the time heading into the city and being stopped by our roadblocks.”

Becky shook her head.  “That was just one of the messes we found ourselves in.  The rulers, administrators, whoever, had fled, maybe on the last star ship out.  Maybe into the hills.  While we floundered around trying to get something going for the locals, they died by the thousands, tens of thousands.”  Becky got a faraway look in her eyes, as if seeing the disaster again.

“I administered, or tried to administer three different Iteeche planets, each a bigger disaster than the last.  By the time we were being driven back, I’d learned a bit about their language, but almost nothing about their culture, government, economy.  Nothing at all.”

She looked at Kris.  “I hope you can fill in all the blanks that eluded me.”

Kris nodded.  “Is this why you came to see me?”

Becky shrugged.  “Actually, no.  Your father wanted me to talk to you about the structure of your embassy and its staff.”

“Talk to me,” Kris said.

“There are five parts to any fully functional embassy.   You’re familiar with the consular offices.  They’ll issue visas to Iteeche wanting to come here and try to keep tabs on our own citizens in the Empire.  Help our citizens out if they get in trouble.  Collect the body and ship it home if matters go totally south.”

“I seem to remember getting my passport handed to me a few times by a consular officer after I was made persona non grata.”

“They’re your people.  There’s also the management types that run the embassy.  I suspect you’ll want to have your Abby coordinate with these people.  What with us not even knowing what kind of a building we’ll have, we don’t know what to send with you.  We’ll try to give you some creative and resilient types.”

“Creative and resilient,” Kris observed.  “I’m going to need a lot of those kind of people.”

“Yeah.  Now, economic officers handle the exchange of technology, science and trade,” Becky said.

“If they’ve got to coordinate with the likes of my Grampa Al, I’ll need several dozen skilled with whips, chains, and, if that doesn’t work, machine guns?”  Kris asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

“We’ll get you the best we have, but remember, guys like your Grampa Al can offer more bucks than we can.”

“Honor, duty, country?” Jack asked.  “Aren’t they worth anything these days?”

“To some of us, yes,” Becky said.  “To others?  Not so much.  This is also the problem that we don’t know anything about how business is done in the Iteeche Empire.  Is every load haggled over?  Do they want iron clad contracts that last twenty years?  Is exaggeration expected or will the slightest lie get a bargainer hung up by their big toes over an ant hill?  Different human cultures have taken different approaches to the exchange of goods and services over the years.  After running several planets, we still don’t know word one on how the Iteeche do it.”

Kris shook her head.  “Do the damn fools that are all hyperexcited about trade know any of this?”

“I’ve had talks with several of them,” Becky said.  “Do you think any listened to me?”

“Yeah,” Jack muttered.

“Moving right along,” Becky said, “We’re looking for some really good and creative public diplomacy officers.  People who will get information out to the Iteeche about us nice humans.”

“You mean propagandists?”  Jack said.

“Oh, that’s such a nasty word.  Think more like handing out lollipops to promote mutual understanding between our two people.”

“Do we know how to do that?” Kris asked.

“Haven’t a clue,” Becky admitted.  “Again, we’ll get you the best people we’ve got, but it will be anybody’s guess as to how they do their job and how much the Iteeche will let them.”

“Do you get the feeling a lot of people may be coming back on the empty ships?” Jack asked.

“I hope not,” Kris said. “We need to sell ourselves and build bridges between us.  That it?”

“Nope, I left my old stomping grounds until last.  Political officers.  We do our best to figure out what the hell is going on in country.  We go to cocktail parties, track media . . .”

“Run spies,” Jack said, cutting her off.

“Oh, that’s such a nasty word, and we usually have the station chief hidden somewhere among the cultural affairs types.

“Cultural affairs?” Kris asked.  “Another type?”

“Not usually.  They are folks that are just dropping by for a bit.  Musicians, writers, people who can actually do cultural stuff for the locals.  We’re working on getting some for you.”

“So,” Kris said.  “Back to the political officer that isn’t a spy.”

“These foreign service types try to keep a thumb on the pulse of the host.  Talk to people, listen.  Overhear something.  Really, most of their information does come from the media and official reports like industrial production, mining output and the like.”

“Do you think the Iteeche are going to share any of that information with us?”

Becky shrugged.  “I have no idea.  Still, this is the kind of staff we put together for the embassy we set up in your Vicky Peterwald’s provisional capital after the Greenfeld Empire split down the middle.  It’s what we plan on giving you.  Can you think of anything different?”

“I was kind of hoping you would,” Kris admitted.

“Yeah.  The Iteeche were an enigma even after we conquered an entire satrap.  Hell, we thought we’d conquered the whole damn empire.  Imagine our surprise when we finally deciphered one of their maps and found out it was one down and ninety-nine more to go.”

Now it was Kris’s turn to say, “Yeah,” before she went on.  “I understand I will have four or five people for every job slot.  Is that right?”

“Your father sent out an invitation for other planets and associations to suggest or offer their people to your embassy.  Imagine his surprise, but not mine, when we started getting back a whole lot of responses.”

“Why are you not surprised?” Kris asked.

“This is the first embassy to the Iteeche.  Yes, you need information, and you will be reporting to King Raymond, but, do people trust your reports?  The accuracy of the reports he passes along to the other allies?  Anyone who can afford their own eyes on the ground is going to make that investment.”

“So, my embassy will leak like a sieve.”

Becky raised her eyebrows.  “You can take that two ways.  These side channels can be your enemy, or they can be your friends.  How fast do you want information to get back to human space?  How widely do you want it released?  You returned from your circumnavigation of the galaxy.  How successful were you in getting your message out?”

“Nada.  Zero and zip,” Kris said.

“Correct.  You lost control of the narrative and others took over getting their message out.  Not yours.”

“Are you suggesting I run my own information service outside of my Grampa Ray’s?”

“There are many reasons why we are meeting in this secure room,” she said with a cheerful chuckle.  “Remember, I was around when the Longknife legend was being built.  I know what went into the first couple of layers on the foundation.”

Kris leaned back in her chair and let that run around inside her skull for a long moment.  “So, you’re basically telling me to make sure that I get what I want out of this.  It’s time to quit being the wide-eyed, idealistic romantic.”

Becky said nothing.

“I don’t think she has to tell you that, Kris,” Jack said.  “I think you already know it.  She’s just advising you what tools you have that you can use to get what you want.”

“Yes, I think she is,” Kris said.

They talked a bit more, refining what they’d already covered.  When they got back to the potential mob scene of diplomats all competing to do the same thing, Kris turned to Jack.

“Maybe if we got all the diplomats on one huge liner, we’d have a whole lot fewer of them by the time we got there?”

Becky laughed.  “Don’t bet on it.  You’re much more likely to have a whole lot more people when you get there.  We diplomats are not nearly as good at killing folks as, say a Marine battalion, but we’re very good at screwing people.”

“Ouch,” Jack said.

Chapter 12

Kris was not surprised a few days later when Gramma Trouble arranged for both her and Trouble to drop by for dinner.

The kids loved these two.  They filled in a lot of the holes left in their life by absent grandparents and great-grandparents.  Grampa Trouble had tales of his adventures, suitably colored for young minds, and misadventures that left them all laughing.  After supper, Kris and Jack, Amanda and Jacques, Grampa and Gramma Trouble adjourned to the library for coffee and drinks.

“So, Grampa, Gramma, have you heard about the diplomatic mission to the Iteeche Empire?” Kris asked.

“Who with their nose to any grindstone hasn’t, Kitten?  And yes, and it’s time and past time we did it,” Grampa Trouble snapped.  “We need to normalize things.  Get over all the mistakes we made during first contract and get over ourselves.  Us vets, included.”

“I’m glad to hear you talking that way,” Kris said.  “My problem is the economy.  We have all kinds of huge corporations all set to make massive amounts of money, and I don’t have any idea what we’re headed into.  Amanda and Jacques are my leads for economic and sociological issues, but they can’t tell me much.  Did you, or anyone in the army fighting the Iteeche learn anything about their economy?”

Grampa Trouble glanced at Ruth, then seemed to settle back in his chair as she leaned forward.  “During the war, I worked with a certain Becky Graven.  You should look her up.”

“She met with me a few days ago, Gramma.  What did you do for Becky?”

“Whatever I could do to keep the Iteeche fed and not killing each other while we were occupying their planets,” Ruth said.

“She told me about the problems feeding them and how you couldn’t figure out the culture or economy.  She didn’t tell me anything about them killing each other.”

“It was hard to say exactly where all the bodies came from,” Gramma Trouble said, glancing at Grampa Trouble.  “We had food riots when the we ran low on their staple food, the tubers they ate raw or cooked.  We had people dying of epidemics.  Did she tell you about our problems with their sewage systems?”

“She did,” Kris admitted.

“Sewage, water, power?  We couldn’t get any of them back up or find the Iteeche who could.  We got zero cooperation from them.  And every morning, among the bodies were Iteeche horribly killed.  Bodies mutilated.  We never found anyone in the act.  We could never figure out why they were killing each other.  It was crazy.”

“How did you finally learn enough about their language to get peace negotiations going?”

Now the older couple did exchange glances.

“One of my patrols came across a couple of dozen Iteeche in pretty nice clothes.” General Trouble said.  “You have to understand, most Iteeche were naked or just had a pair of pants to their name.  These folks had full dress outfits.  Mostly Green, with some white, although there were a few gray and golds among them.  The patrol found them heading down the road toward them, all four arms over their heads.”

Grampa Trouble shook his head.  “They just kind of followed us home.  My people were smart enough not to get too close, but not to try to tie them up.  Some lieutenant was the first human to show a willingness to take a chance.  Well, I guess those Iteeche took the first chance.  They got passed up to me.  Between your grandmother here and Becky, we found we had some linguistic resources on planet.  It took a while.  Boy, Nelly, could we have used your skill set back then.  Finally, we started to build a dictionary.  That was when we discovered that depending on who you were talking to, the words were different.  Every noun.  Every verb had to be different depending on your status in the pecking order and the person you were talking to.  Good Lord!”

“And then we got chased off the planet,” Gramma Trouble said.  “Becky made sure we got the language team off first.  Ray made sure they were pulled well back and out of harm’s way, but not so far that we line beasts lost control of them.  What a war.  The farther you went from the front lines, the more bloodthirsty the people were.”

“Hell has no fury like a non-combatant,” Kris muttered.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Trouble said.

“Didn’t you find out anything from them about Iteeche culture, economics, or technology?” Kris asked.

“Kris, they were Imperial advisors,” Ruth said.  “I don’t really think they knew how to change a light bulb or even turn on a light.  They had servants.  Slaves.  Whatever.  They did everything for them.  Think of them as philosophers.  The Navy officers knew a few practical things, but not a lot.  They commanded.  They had artificers to handle all the technical side of their ships.”

Kris found herself scrubbing at her face and was glad she’d already washed off the light coat of makeup she’d put on that morning.  “These folks really are alien,” she half muttered to herself.

“That’s what we came to realize.  Stranger and stranger.  Curiouser and curiouser,” Grampa Trouble said.  He glanced at his wife, and again he leaned back in his chair and she took over the conversation.

“Kris, dear, we’d like to ask you for a favor.”

“Me?” Kris said, caught by surprise.  “Whatever you ask, if I can get it for you, it’s yours.”

“Don’t be so quick to offer us old warhorses a free ride,” Ruth said, with a soft chuckle.  “We know you’re going deep into the Iteeche Empire.  We also know that both you and Jack may be up to your ears in alligators.  Or squid, if you’ll allow an old vet the use of a banned term.  We’d like to come along with you to be full-time grandparents to Ruth and John.”

Now it was Kris’s turn to retreat back into her chair.  She glanced at Jack.  He raised her two high eyebrows, but said nothing.

Grampa and Gramma Trouble were about the only two relatives that Kris would risk leaving Ruth and John with.  But she’d always assumed they were too busy with the other grandkids and great-grandkids to have time to devote to just two of the battalion of offspring they had.

They were, however, Iteeche War vets.  Grampa Trouble had led offensives where millions of Iteeche had died.  Gramma Ruth had just now admitted to being involved in operating what Ron the Iteeche called the civilian slave labor death camps that figured prominently in the Iteeche stories of the war.

Becky had said she was not likely to be wanted in the Empire.  Were these two any more acceptable?

So, Kris asked that question.

This time, Ruth sat back and Trouble leaned forward.  “The Iteeche respect generals.  That’s one of the reasons why Ray had to personally negotiate the Treaty of the Orange Nebula with me at his elbow.  That’s why, except for Ron’s dad, everyone on the other side of the table were either Navy grey and golds or Army red and blacks.  But I’m not asking to come with you as a general or a vet or any of those other jobs.  I want to be Ruth and Johnny’s grampa.”

“You two are going to be busy out of your mind,” Ruth put in.  “We remember what it was like.  We left our kids back in the rear areas.  We and Ray and Rita.  We all know how well that worked out with Al.  Alnaba won’t get within a quarter of the galaxy of her dad, Ray.  We lost Sarah, but were lucky enough to have had a second chance at being parents.  Please let us stand in for you two while you are doing everything you have to do to make this happen between us and the Iteeche.”

“We’re not asking for a job,” the old general said earnestly.  “We don’t want to be included in your council of war.  Let us be the anchor that helps Ruth and John stay close to you.”

“I, ah, I wasn’t expecting this,” Kris admitted.

“Honey, you’re Trouble once again,” Gramma Ruth said, swatting at her husband.

“Give us a few days to think this over,” Kris said.  At the moment, she was ready to jump on it.  Of late, she’d learned to spend more time looking at things that looked like a good idea at the time.

Chapter 13

Four weeks later, Kris was ready to officially surrender her battlecruisers to Admiral Kitano.  She set the date for the change of command ceremony, expecting it to be a small thing in her own office.

Then Mac got involved.

“You can’t slip away without us having a chance to say a few words and cut a cake.  Even a damn Longknife has to put up with a little bit of ceremony.”

Kris could guess how much she would not enjoy all that pomp and ceremony, but she agreed and let Mac set the date.  Three days later, Alice led the two admirals to the elevator and then down a hallway Kris had never used in her five years at Main Navy.  She found herself coming out in something that looked like the backstage of a theater.

“What?” she said, but Kitano and Alice wouldn’t let her duck back to check the number on the door again.  Instead, they shouldered her forward . . . and out on a stage.

THIS IS THE MAIN AUDITORIUM FOR THE NAVY DEPARTMENT Nelly informed Kris.

A thunderous applause began; Kris found herself facing a full house.  The admirals who had been her nemesis for five years had front row seats.

Next to them were four charge of missions that Kris had been saddled with, all decked out in full diplomatic uniforms.  There was a fifth, but the Musashi representative had not yet arrived.  Kris had no idea who would be named to represent Yamato, Musashi, Nippon and several other associated planets.

Of those present, Greenfelds diplomat was in green, of course, and dripping with more gold than Kris thought you could get on a frock coat.  Not to be outdone, the United Society’s woman wore a uniform not unlike Kris’s, though in a lighter shade of blue but with as much gold braid as the Greenfeld diplomatic uniform.  The male ambassador from the Helvetican Confederacy wore such severe black as to almost become a shadow, although the cape over his shoulders showed a bright burgundy lining.  With him was a strikingly beautiful woman in white, hair included.  Their exact relationship had not been clarified, but the growing suspicion was that the mission was split between them.  Next to them was the woman representing the Federation of Free Planets from the other side of human space.  Actually, she was their ambassador to Wardhaven who had been quickly dragooned into representing them on this mission as well as several other associations from the other side of human space.  She sported a floor length white silk dress with a short fire engine red jacket half covered in swirling patterns of gold.

Kris suspected that her own dress blues or whites would leave her the ugly duckling among these diplomatic peacocks.  Cripes.

But she had little time for gawking.  Field Marshall Mac was already at the podium; he rapped on the mic for quiet and quickly got it.

“I know you all can’t wait to see this woman in your rear-view mirror, but we’ve got to put up with her today.  Admiral Kitano, will you please read your orders.”

Kitano quickly read the very formal and very short order giving her command of Battlecruiser Force.  She then turned smartly to Kris and said.

“I relieve you, Admiral.”

Kris returned the salute and answered, “I stand relieved,” and with those few words, the burdens Kris had borne for the last five years passed from her shoulder to Amber’s.

“Good luck,” she couldn’t help but whisper through an appropriate smile as the auditorium filled with applause again.

“I’ll need it, from what I’ve seen,” Amber answered through her own plastered on smile.

When the applause began to peter out, Mac again rapped the mic.  “Our Kris will be getting her own marching orders from King Raymond later in the week, but we all know that she’s going from fighting tooth and nail for every thin dime she can get out of the rest of you to making nice with the Iteeche Emperor and his court.”

“Assuming she can make nice with anyone,” came from somewhere among the gathered admirals, and drew more of a laugh than Kris thought it deserved.

“Well, Admiral, are there a few words you’d like to say?”

Kris considered Mac’s offer, and knew she had to say something.  She had quite a few choice words she’d love to say, but this emissary gig was only for five years and she might have to work with this gang again.  This was no day to burn bridges.

She stepped to the podium and cleared her throat.  “It’s been an unusual pleasure to work with all of you these last five years.”

“I didn’t know she was into whips and chains,” was in a stage whisper that filled the entire auditorium.  The chuckle this time was more nervous.

“I asked for this desk job, and all of you have done a thorough job of educating me as to why everyone wants ship duty.”

That got a roar.  Even Mac couldn’t resist a guffaw.

“I’m looking forward to my next job.  Although it doesn’t involve ship duty, if I am able to do what I intend to, all of human space will be safer.  If alien base ships ever appear in our skies, we will not have to worry about the Iteeche starting a war of their own.  I hope that we will conclude a treaty that means the Iteeche will fight with us and we fight with them.”

The house got serious at that.  Kris turned to leave the podium, but Mac was blocking her path.  He moved back to the podium, but kept a firm hold on Kris’s elbow.

“Normally, what we’ll be doing here today is done in King Raymond’s throne room.  For all the heartburn I’ve put up with from Her Royal Highness, Admiral Kris Longknife, the king has granted me this opportunity.  It’s preliminary.  The formal dog and pony show will take place when she gets her ambassadorial papers, but I figured you Navy types would want to have a hand in this.”

“A hand in what?” Kris whispered.

Mac just beamed across the stage.  Megan was marching forward, a long box held in both hands.  It was too small to be a dozen long stem roses.  It was also made of a very fine wood Kris realized.

Kris eyed Kitano and then Megan.  Kitano just beamed; Megan’s face was as straight and unrevealing as a slab of white marble.

Megan crossed the stage, squared her corner and marched up to Field Marshall MacMorrison.  She held the box of rich dark wood and light leather out to him.  The earthy scent of the two wafted around Kris, teasing her.

Mac turned to Kris.  “Since the day I called Ensign Kris Longknife in for one of those Friday afternoon talks, you’ve been a pain in my ass.  I had your resignation papers all filled out, just waiting for your signature, but you marched out of my office promoted to Lieutenant, j.g. and wearing my old shoulder boards.  How I rue that day,” he said, but he was smiling as he said it.

There were chuckles from the rows of Navy officers seated down front.

“You’ve tackled one problem after another.  Each one worse than the last.  Each one more and more critical to our survival as a planet, a union and finally all of us humans lumped in together.

“And all the time, you’ve been a pain in my butt.”

“I try to please, sir,” Kris offered into the pause.

“Damn, but you have.  So now you are tackling the toughest job we humans have ever had dumped in our lap.  Your great-grandfather fought the Iteeche to a standstill.  Now it’s your job to find a way to bring a lasting peace between us and their Empire.”

Kris swallowed hard and nodded.  That about summed up what she was headed out to do.

“Well, we can’t send you out to the Iteeche risking that one of them might outrank you.  So, it is with great pride in our mutual survival that I present you with this small token of my appreciation.”

Megan opened the lid of the box.  Kris found herself watching as Field Marshall MacMorrisson lifted a short, ornate to the point of baroque, staff.  He hefted it; it looked heavy.

Kris knew just how heavy it was.  Its weight wasn’t just in kilograms.  No, the burden of centuries of history filled with duty and honor were on that staff.

Kris recognized it the moment Megan lifted the lid of the wooden box.  A Grand Admiral’s baton.

Mac lifted the baton with both hands, but when he offered it to Kris, she took it up with her right hand alone.  If she couldn’t handle it singlehandedly, she didn’t deserve it.

The crown on top was fashioned in gold, as were the bands down the long handle.  The rod itself Kris had taken for polished steel.  Now she saw that the whole of it was silver, much of it worked to show ships in battle.  Lurking in the background were big blobs that, no doubt, represented alien raider mother ships.  The mother ships were not to scale, otherwise the baton would have been huge.

As the room broke out in applause, Kris raised the baton to them in salute.  She kept it high until the clapping petered out.

“I hope this honor also includes a lighter walking out baton, or this will never get off my ‘I Love Me’ shelf.”  Kris whispered to Mac when she turned to him.

“One has already been delivered to your office.  It will be waiting for you when you get back.”

“Thanks,”

Stepping up to the mic, Mac said, “Have you any words to share with us, Grand Admiral?”

Kris knew she’d said about all she dared say, and what she said before had been carefully thought out.  She had nothing more to add, even with this ton of approval she was holding.

But she stepped up to the mic.

“I am very honored.  If you have a chance to look down front, you will see the representatives of several planets and associations who have sent senior diplomats to accompany me.  They are dressed in the official uniform of their offices and they do look very impressive.  I was starting to fear that my Navy uniform might leave me the wren among swans.”

Kris hefted the baton again.  “I expect that I can impress even an Iteeche Emperor with this.  If not, I’ll beat some sense into him.”

“Oh, God.  We’re in trouble when she gets back,” came from some joker among the admirals.  Kris just gave them all a toothy grin.

“I thank all of you who have helped me earn this,” Kris said and turned to go.

A reception had been laid on in the large conference room across from the auditorium’s entrance.  Having to come from the front stage, Kris got there after a good half had already drawn a cup of weak punch and a slice of cheap cake.

Kris didn’t complain.  She’d grabbed every penny she could find for her beloved battlecruisers.  A little payback seemed acceptable.

She had been trained at her father’s knee in the art of polite political chit chat.   Men and women she’d fought with for the last five years came up to her, smiled and said how much they’d enjoyed working with her.

Kris smiled right back and said nice things too.

It was very civilized and totally hypocritical.

Kris worked late that evening, finishing up the last crumbs of the briefing Kitano needed to survive.  Both Amber and Alice were well into their new relationship with one of Nelly’s kids.  Amber named her computer Logan; why, she didn’t say.  Alice tagged hers with Super Girl.  They, and their new aides, Lieutenant Lucian D’Angelo with his computer, San Martin and Kitty Townson with Simba, were fully up to speed now.

“Kris, you go home and get everything together for your mission,” Amber finally said.  “Those four foreign office peacocks, are they really going to work with you, or are they maybe going to be a pain in your ass?”

“If so, then karma is a bitch,” Kris admitted to the possibility.

She and Jack left very late, but Amber and Alice were still burning the lights.  Jack lugging the lovely box with the ceremonial baton; Kris held the lighter one under her right arm.

Ruth and John thought mommy’s new toy was the neatest thing and just what they wanted.

[DA2]

Chapter 14

Four weeks later Kris observed the departure of the 6th Battlecruiser Fleet from High Wardhaven station from the flag bridge of the USS Princess Royal surrounded by her personal staff.  The Sweet P, as her lower decks had rechristened her, had been one of the first battlecruisers to be refit for the 24-inch lasers.

They’d slit her open, replaced her reactors and guns with more powerful ones, pumped in more Smart MetalTM, and coated it all with additional crystal armor sufficient for a battle at Condition Zed.  The P Royal, however, was ten thousand tons over the normal displacement of a battlecruiser of her class.  She still had the extra Smart MetalTM she’d taken on for the jaunt as the flagship of a princess arbitrator to the Greenfeld Empire to stop their civil war.

Kris had intended to offer the P Royal for Vice Admiral Jean Darlan’s flag, but he had chosen the Bold in the second task force.  He was about as far from Kris as he could get and still accompany her to the Iteeche Court.  Kris had hoped they would get off on a better footing, but she could understand.  She had twice conducted readiness reviews of his command and twice flunked its.  Admiral Darlan was a retread from the Battle Force and expected his battlecruisers to follow in his wake.  He liked battle lines, sixteen ships long, and saw no reason for his ships to “jitterbug” around.

Kris would have relieved him if she could have, but he had friends.  Apparently, those friends had gotten him this command.  Kris certainly hadn’t asked for him.

The Princess Royal was part of the 13th Battlecruiser Squadron which still included the Intrepid, Courageous, Furious, Resolute, Defender, Steadfast and Monarch.  Commander Ajax no long commanded the P. Royal.  Instead, Commodore Ajax now flew her flag aboard Intrepid, commanding the entire squadron.

At least some of the Navy around Kris were familiar and friendly.

The thirty-two battlecruisers of the 6th fleet followed in the wake of the sixteen Imperial battlecruisers that had brought Ron to Wardhaven.  They had returned only two days ago, and were now getting underway to lead the way back to court.

Behind the U.S. battlecruisers came the merchant ships.

In the lead was a luxury liner full of diplomats, contractors and support civilians.  The Space Fiesta was new, the first major liner constructed of Smart MetalTM. She’d been taken over and redesigned into a high-speed passenger liner for the run either to the Iteeche Empire or to Alwa.  That had involved doubling her number of reactors and adding additional rocket motors to get her up to 3.5 gees.  The redesign also included pouring in extra Smart MetalTM to strengthen her girders and reinforce her strength members.   Renamed the USS King Raymond I, she’d never go back to her intended role of a luxury liner.

Following her were eight fast attack transports, taken off the Alwa run.  Able to make 3.5 gees and armed with 6-inch lasers, they carried more of Kris’s contractors, support staff and supplies.  The Rankin had the 3rd battalion, 1st Marines, reinforced, on board.  By the time a full set of attachments, MP, NCIS, Security, Special Forces and more were added on, it topped out at fourteen hundred strong.

Kris had taken pity on the tight quarters on the Rankin and put a company aboard the Princess Royal.  Kris had not been able to get a Marine detachment aboard all the battlecruisers; the corps was spread pretty thin.  Still, all the flagships in the fleet had a Marine platoon size detachment aboard.  If things got challenging, Kris could form the ship Marines into an additional battalion to call on.

The eight attack transports got away from the station as smartly as the battlecruisers.  The next two dozen plus, however, were a very motley crew.  Grampa Al’s huge Glory of Free Enterprise, Pride of the Market, and Grandeur of the Profit Motive . . . tell me what you really think, Grampa, followed right behind the transports, and just as smartly.

“Nelly, are Grampa Al’s ships armed?”

“Four 18-inch long guns forward, a half dozen 5-inchers scattered around the hull.  I don’t think he wants you to shoot at them this time,” Nelly said, with a chuckle in her voice.

Kris turned to Amanda and Jacques.  “Do you know Grampa Al has an ambassador of his own on the Glory?”

“No,” Amanda said.

“Yep, Grampa calls him the ‘Ambassador for Business.’  If that so-called ambassador tries to wrangle a meeting with the Emperor, Jack, you have my permission to lock him in the brig.”

“The gall of some Longknifes,” Jack muttered softly enough to be heard on the entire flag bridge.  He got the laugh he deserved.

The next dozen or so merchant ships flew the flags of every major association, including Earth and her rump of The Society of Humanity.  Kris wasn’t sure the credentials of the business folks aboard Earth’s Golden Hind were official, but King Ray had chosen to let them follow along, while warning Kris to be careful of them.  Kris had passed that warning right along to Jack and Abby.

The last dozen or more ships were an open question.  They were merchant skippers and free traders looking to make a fast buck.  Jack’s Marines had searched those ships along with the others and found no contraband aboard.  Kris had warned the skippers that in event that the fleet found itself surprised by things they’d been promised weren’t there, the battlecruisers might exit the area at 3.5 gees.  The skippers had been a bit surprised by that, but had not withdrawn.

Be it upon their heads.

Not that Kris expected any surprises.  Ron had gotten to Wardhaven with sixteen battlecruisers; she should have no problem returning with forty-eight.

Kris had never had a chance to examine the Iteeche battlecruisers before.  She turned to the lieutenant on sensors and asked him to give her a readout on the Iteeche ships.  Quickly one wall filled up with scans and schematics, graphs and lists.

“The Iteeche construction is nearly a mirror of ours, Admiral,” the lieutenant reported as Kris had Nelly do her own check.

“Can we get any better take on those ships?” Nelly asked.

“This is the best we can get off the antennas we’ve got, Admiral.”

“We don’t have a research team, at least not a star gazing team,” Nelly pointed out.

DAMN, Kris breathed.  I THOUGHT THEY STILL HAD WHAT WE HAD FIVE YEARS AGO?

I’M SORRY KRIS.  I DIDN’T CHECK UNTIL JUST NOW.

AND I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO.

WHERE WE’RE GOING IS SUPPOSED TO BE FULLY CHARTED.

AND WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE TO GET A FULL READ OUT ON ANY ATTACKERS.  YES, I KNOW, NELLY.

“Okay, Lieutenant, tell me what you’ve got.”

“Half are carrying 24-inch lasers, the other half only 22-inchers.  Their reactors are a bit more powerful than ours.  Assuming that they’ve got their capacitors charged to the full, they don’t carry quite the charge ours do.”

“So, a shorter laser burst, but maybe a faster reload.”

“It would appear so, ma’am.”

“Can you get any readout from their Smart Metal or crystal armor?” Kris asked.

“It looks like they’re carrying more Smart Metal than we are, but I’m not getting any singing in the bandwidth for crystal.”

“They don’t have any?” Jack said.

“Apparently not,” the lieutenant repeated.

“So, they got Smart Metal for their power generation secret, but it appears we humans haven’t told them anything about how to build beam weapons or crystal armor,” Kris said, summing it up.

“Paranoid, anyone?” Abby asked no one.

“If you put Ray Longknife and Crossie in a barrel,” Kris growled, naming the chief of Intelligence, “and roll them downhill, you’ll have a paranoid bastard on top all the way down.”

“You think you should maybe stop saying things like that, baby duck?” Abby drawled. “What with you now being, what do they call it, the embodiment of his presence.”

Kris shrugged; eyed the array of departing ships and found it acceptable, if not all good.  “Let’s get some chow.  I figure this trip out is the last chance any of us will have to catch up on our sleep, time with our kids or anything else human for a very long time.  Let’s take it.”

[DA3]

Chapter 15

Twenty days later, they had made several easy jumps and were across the old demilitarized zone into the Empire.  Kris had spent the time getting eight hours sleep a night, enjoying her kids and reading the classics.  Iteeche classics.  Nelly and Ron were expanding their translation program by converting to Standard the classic books that Iteeche had been reading for thousands of years.

Nelly also threw in a few new ones to make sure that Kris didn’t sound like a dinosaur.

What Kris noticed not happening were fleet drills.  The skipper of the Princess Royal saw to it that his crew were drilled thoroughly.  Twice a week, all hands had abandon ship drills, which included every civilian on board.

The kids loved it.

The ship drilled, but the divisions and squadrons stayed steadily in line behind the task force flag.  Every day or so, an itch would get to bothering Kris, and she’d scratch it by studying the fleet array.

Squadron 13 was in line at precisely five hundred kilometers, one right behind the other.  You could draw a straight line from first to last and none in between would be more than half a meter either way.  Not so for the battlecruisers not under Commodore Ajax’s command.  The interval varied from 475 to 530 kilometers and ships were as much as ten kilometers out of line.

Kris was aware that most of her fleet had been chosen from shiny new construction to show the flag.  Most of the ships had little more time in space beyond their shakedown cruise.  Still, they ought to be better at maintaining formation than this

All of which reminded Kris of why she’d down-checked both of Admiral Darlan’s commands during readiness inspections.

How did he get this assignment? Kris asked herself again and again.  He said he had friends in high places, and it was not like King Raymond could give a direct order to the Navy as to who should get this or that command.  Maybe Kris had been too busy taking care of important matters to check with her own friends in high places.

Still, she had to remind herself that she was the passenger here, and a diplomat on her way on a diplomatic mission.  That she was a Grand Admiral wasn’t supposed to matter.

“Like hell it doesn’t matters.  Nelly, draft a scathing letter for my signature.”

“Shall I draft it and send it, Kris?”

“No, let me see the copy first.”

“So, this is one of those memos I write, you read, and then it calms you down, huh?”

Kris scowled.  “Something like that.”

Nelly drafted a very blistering letter; reading it did help Kris calm down.  In the end, Kris saved the letter to be reconsidered the next time Vice Admiral Darlan frosted her buns.

The next jump took them deep into Iteeche territory, halfway to the capital.  They were approaching the flip over point, midway between the next jump and their last when the jump ahead of them began spitting out battlecruisers.

Kris stood on her flag bridge as the chief on sensors counted out the arrivals.  He stopped at sixty-four.  “They’re putting on one gee and heading for us.”

“Comm, get me the Red Sunset on the Water,” Kris ordered, and was quickly connected to Ron’s flagship.

“Were you expecting a greeting committee before we reached the capital system?” she asked.

“No.  At least there were no plans before I left.”

“Any idea why plans might have changed?”

“Not that I can think of,” sounded too evasive for Kris’s tastes.  She rang off.

“Chief, I want to know how those sixty-four ships match up against the sixteen Iteeche ships with us.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” she said and eyed her boards.  “Reactors seem to fall into two different types, with only minor variations from the ones with us,” she said, slowly.  “Half have 24-inch lasers, the other half are 22-inchers.  Those are split between the two types of reactors.  Also, one reactor type is larger than our 24 or 22-inch standard battlecruiser.  The other is a bit smaller.”

“So, we’re looking at two different production lines,” Jack said.

“If you insist I bet, I’d bet on that,” sensors replied.

“Oh,” the sensor chief exclaimed, just as the lieutenant pulled out a seat at the console beside her.  “Admiral, we’ve got ships coming through the jump behind us.”

“What kind of ships?” Kris demanded.

“Battlecruisers, Admiral,” the lieutenant reported.

“They are slightly different from the group ahead of us,” the chief added.

“So, another bunch of squids want into our party,” Jack muttered to Kris.

She eyed him, he wasn’t the type to call the Iteeche names.  “You don’t like this?” she asked him.

“Not at all.  Even if we assume Ron is in the dark and not intentionally keeping us there, now we’ve got unknowns both in front of us and behind.”

“Nelly?” Kris asked.

“I know nothing more than you do, Kris.  Belay that.  We’re intercepting a message to Ron.  It’s from the signal buoy of the jump we came through yesterday.  Somebody must have waited until we got well away and sent it to reach us now.”

“We’re at the worst time,” Jack pointed out.

“Yeah,” Kris said, dryly.  “Nelly, I sure would like a translation of that message.”

“I’m trying to.  The opening is full of flowers and unicorns, such as the Iteeche have them, and . . . oh, they just got to the point.”

“And it is?” Kris asked.

“They very politely invite Ron to surrender his ships and ours to them or they will blast us out of space.”

“How diplomatic of them,” Jacques, ever the sociologist, said.

“Nelly, have you been passing along your new translation program to all the ships of the fleet?”

“Yes, Kris.”

“So Vice Admiral Darlan’s flag could have just as easily picked up the message and translated it.”

“Yes, Kris.”

Kris thought.  She thought for a full five seconds about how she was a passenger and shouldn’t put her oar in another admiral’s water.  Another admiral’s battle.

She was just opening her mouth when the Princess Royal’s battle claxon began to sound.  “All hand to battle stations.  This is not a drill.”

“Nelly, get me the command network.”

“You’re piped in.”

“Set course for the jump ahead of us.  Prepare to engage the sixty-four possible hostiles.  Acceleration is one point five gees,” came in a strained voice that was clearly Admiral Darlan’s.

Kris shot a look at the system display on her closest wall.  It showed the three fleets and the layout of the system.  She shook her head.

“That is a stupid order,” she snapped.  “Nelly, put me on the command net.”

‘You’re on, Kris.”

She drew in a deep breath, gave Jack a quick glance and got a slow nod of his head, with a thumbs up before the second nod.

Her Highness, Grand Admiral Kris Longknife prepared to get herself in a whole lot of trouble.  She had to if she was to save her kids’ lives.  Her kids and a whole lot of other people.

Chapter 16

“Belay that order,” Kris said, her command voice at full throttle.

“What are you doing on my command net?” Vice Admiral Jean Darlan demanded.

“Saving all our hides.  That is an unwise order,” Kris said, firmly.

“You can’t countermand my order,” the admiral screamed back at Kris.  “You aren’t in the chain of command.  No one here has to listen to a word you say.”

Commanders don’t argue on the command net. Battle command was not a debating society.

But what else can I do?

“They better listen, because you’re about to get them all killed.”  Kris snapped back.

“I am not,” was huffed in offended pride.  “They have divided their forces, leaving them open for defeat in detail.  I will attack half of them, then press on to the Imperial capital, leaving the others in our dust.”

“You’re making two assumptions, Vice Admiral,” Kris emphasized the Vice.  “One, are you sure there aren’t more ships waiting to jump through that far jump?  If there are, you’re in a headlong charge you won’t be able to stop for much longer.”

Kris let those words sink in slowly.  In front of her, her view of the command net was expanding.  Initially, she’d been looking at Vice Admiral Darlan and the two rear admirals commanding Task Force 1 and 2 of the fleet.  Now, the commodores commanding the four squadrons were switching from listening mode to looking as well.

Kris spotted Commodore Ajax.  The woman looked very purposely at one section of the screen facing her.  Who was she so intent on: Kris or Darlan?

Kris went on.  “Second point is the terrain.  If you’d studied several of my battles, you would have realized the significance of the planet just off our course.  In fifteen to twenty hours, they can change course to swing around it and be headed back to the jump, turning your charge through with only a few seconds of shooting into a long, drawn-out, gun duel with them having thirty-two 24-inch battlecruisers to our twenty-four.  They’ve got the same odds with the smaller ships.  You won’t get to the capital.  You’ll be blown to it.”

Now Ajax was nodding agreement.  So was the other young commodore who had come up in battlecruisers.  Unfortunately, Kris was butting heads with five others who had transferred into battlecruisers.  How many had done it for love of a battlecruisers or to get rank fast before returning to the Battle Force?

“This is my battle, Ambassador,” the Vice Admiral spat the word.

How did he make such a long word into a four letter one?

Kris needed to change the odds.

JACK, CAN YOU CONTACT THE SKIPPERS OF THE MARINE DETACHMENTS ON THE FLAGSHIPS? she said on Nelly Net.

I’VE ALREADY GOT THE LT ON THE BOLD MOVING TOWARD THE BRIDGE WITH A SQUAD OF MARINES UNDER ARMS.

YOU BETTER DO THE SAME FOR THE TASK FORCE FLAGSHIPS.

I’LL GO YOU ONE BETTER AND HAVE MARINES DOUBLE TIMING IT FOR ALL THE FLAG BRIDGES.

THANKS.

“Vice Admiral,” Kris began, trying to sound reasonable while she bought time for Marines to settle some Navy hash.  “It is a poor man who cannot take advice when it is offered from someone with experience.  We need to wear away from this battle.  Gain space and distance before we engage these interlopers.  This fleet,” Kris was oh so careful not to say your fleet, “has not tested itself.  Can these ships go to Condition Zed or put on combat revolutions smoothly?”

Kris noted how Ajax and the other young commodore rolled their eyes at that one.  Someone else wasn’t happy with the level of training in this fleet.

“Ambassador,” Darlan spat.  “You may get away with all your high and mighty carrying on when you’ve got the king and money to hide behind, but here, we’re Navy, and we follow the orders given us by our lawful superiors.  You are not the lawful superior to any Sailor here, so why don’t you just run along and play patty-cake with those weak-wristed diplomats of yours and we Navy will see that you get there.”

The admiral turned to glance at something behind him.  “What are you doing on my flag bridge?  Who ordered you here?”

“I did, Admiral,” Lieutenant General Jack Montoya, Royal USMC said, stepping into view beside Kris.

“Well, get them out of here.”

On all six other flag bridges, there were similar reactions to the arrival of armed Marines.

“Vice Admiral Darlan, as Her Royal Highness and Grand Admiral in the U.S. fleet, I have lost confidence in your ability to exercise your command of my escort.  There are five stars on my flag to your three.  You are relieved and may stand down.”

“I will not.  You can’t do this.”

“I just have,” Kris said, trying to keep her face bland Navy granite.

“I won’t have this.”

“Lieutenant,” Jack said, “please accompany Admiral Darlan to his quarters.  Post a guard and see that he stays there.”

“Aye, aye, General,” the Marine lieutenant replied and stepped forward, a big corporal at his side to take the admiral’s elbow.  “Please come with me, sir.”

Admiral Darlan yanked his elbow away from the lieutenant’s grasp.

“Don’t you touch me!  You are insubordinate in the face of hostile fire!  I’ll have you shot!”

“No, sir, I’m following a lawful order from a superior officer, sir.”  The lieutenant made the last “sir” sound like they were for something that a cat just hacked up.

The lieutenant grabbed one elbow, the corporal grabbed the other, and the admiral found himself being hustled from his flag bridge.

“You can’t do this!  I have friends in high places!  You’ll all be shot for this!” were finally cut off when the bridge hatch closed.

Kris had had to make an extra effort to get the Marine platoons on each of her flagships.  Then she had considered then a reserve if she got into trouble among the Iteeche.  Well, she was having a problem with the Iteeche, all right, and needing the Marines to settle her human troubles.

Kris eyed the admiral’s chief of staff.  She was a young captain.  She’d fought with Kris on Alwa and come home for personal reasons.  “Do you have any questions, Captain Tosan?

“No, ma’am.  Will you want staff support from us?”

“Yes, please.  As usual, my staff is thin on the ground.”

“Yes, ma’am, I remember comments about that,” the captain said with a knowing smile.

“Thank you,” Kris said, and turned to the two rear admirals who commanded the task forces.  “Set course for the third jump out of this system.  Fleet acceleration is one point five gees.  Course is half deceleration, half reaching for the jump.  Any questions?”

“You’re going to run away?” one admiral asked.

“Yes.  We need to buy time to drill our ships and get them ready for combat before engaging an enemy that outnumbers us three to two.”

“But if we give them that time, they may combine their forces and we’ll be facing odds of three to one,” the other admiral put in.

“Maybe they will.  Maybe they won’t.  That is a risk I am willing to take,” Kris said.

Both men shook their heads; the other continued speaking.  “Ma’am, you are not only asking us to follow what many would say is an illegal order, but also one that violates one of the most basic tenet of military strategy as it has been known for thousands of years.”

Kris waited to see where this was going.  There were many arguments she could raise.  I know what I’m doing.  I’ve done it before.  I’ve thrown the book away and still won battles.  Kris said nothing, leaving the men to stew in their own juices.

Both the men eyed each other, then as one they turned their back on Kris and walked from their bridge.  The Marines fell in line behind them, not so much guarding them as providing an honor guard.

Now Kris turned to the four squadron commanders.  “Have you anything to say?”

The two retread commodores eyed each other, then turned and also marched away.

Kris took in a deep breath, frowning at the situation she now faced.

“I’m on board with you, Admiral,” Commodore Ajax said.  “I as well,” the other commodore said, though his adam’s apple bobbed a bit as he swallowed hard.

“Good, then shall we set the new fleet course.”

In a moment that was done.  Feeling half again heavier, Kris still stood her ground before the main screen.  “Now that that’s done, Ajax, take command of Task Force 1.  I want recommendations from you before the end of this day for filling the squadron commands.  Ah,” Nelly provided a name, “Commodore Afon, you now have command of Task Force 2.  I’ll need the same recommendations from you, too.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” came from both of them and they clicked off.

Kris turned to Jack.  He gave her a cheerful grin.  “You’re coming up in the world.  Now you’re relieving admirals, not a lowly commander.  So, my admiral, does it get any easier relieving people?”

Kris plopped herself down in the nearest station chair.  Nelly immediately turned it into a relaxing massage chair.  “Thank you, Nelly.  Comm, get me a line to the Iteeche flagship.  I need to talk to Ron.”

In a moment, the Iteeche was on screen.  With his high collar and bland face, Kris could read no emotions, no nothing from him.

“It seems we may have been misinformed about the peaceful state that abides in the Iteeche Empire,” she said trying to suppress the sarcasm she so wanted to dip those words in.

“It appears that you may have been,” Ron admitted.

“You want to fill me in on what I and my king may have missed in translation.”

“It was not lost in translation.  It was never said.”

“And that is?”

“The Empire is wracked by internecine strife as several satrap pashas reach for the Imperial purple.”

“Oh, damn,” Kris muttered.

Chapter 17

Having made that fascinating revelation, Ron fell silent, adding nothing to words that now meant everything to Kris.

She considered her next words carefully and chose to ask him for simple, factual answer.  “We have recognized four different variations in the battlecruiser forces facing us.  Five if we include your force.  Does that mean that four satraps are in alliance against the Emperor?

“Actually, thirty-three of the hundred and thirty-two have refused their proper allegiance . . . worship . . . your language does not have anything that properly expresses what is expected from an Iteeche to the Emperor.”

“You and Nelly can work on that later,” Kris said.  “What about all the humans that are in the Iteeche Empire to help in your ship construction?  How have they not known about this bit of squabbling?  Oh, and how safe are they at present?”

“Just as your people have seen to it that various technologies that we would very much like to have are denied to us, we have made sure the transient humans have stayed, ah, in the dark about our difficulties.  Some work for the Empire.  Some work for the wild satraps.  We all need them and feared that if you knew of our situation, you might cut off all access.  There are what you might call neutral ships that pass freely between satraps.”

“And we need your help for our power plants,” Kris added.

“Yes, we very much rely upon each other.”

Jack had stepped out of range of the camera and was motioning at Kris.

“Ron, can I get back to you in a few minutes?  I need to think on what you’ve just told me.”

“I will be awaiting your pleasure,” the Iteeche said, and clicked off.

“Kris,” Nelly put in immediately, “That ‘awaiting your pleasure,’ Ron said.  He’s treating you like he would the Emperor.”

“I wonder what it’s worth,” Abby drawled.

“Possibly a lot,” Jacques put in.  “I’ve been studying what we’ve got on the Iteeche and no one stands before the Emperor without his granting the boon, and only a few can beg the boon.  Everyone else grovels face down on their hands and knees.  Very demanding, these folks.”

“Well, Jack, why were you waving at me?”

“Kris, what kind of a war are these people fighting?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Kris agreed with the question.

“Look at what we know.  Our teams on the major industrial planets have seen no sign of war, so we can assume there have been no attacks wreaking havoc dirtside.  Not even terrorist attacks.  Ships can pass from one zone to another.  Our people can travel from one zone to another without sensing any difference or discomfort.  The Emperor even lets new engineers come in and pass through to the planet they’ve been hired for even if they are in rebellion.”

“It sounds way too civilized for any kind of war we humans wage,” Jacques observed.

“Is it any kind of war we’re used to?  Nelly, look over the order the hostiles sent to Ron.  Did it actually say they’d blow us to bits?”

“It did, Kris, but there was a lot more surrender talk before you got to there.  There was some I skipped over when I spotted the last phrase.  The hostiles were very clear that Ron was badly outnumbered.  It was his duty to surrender because he had no chance of winning a fight.  I think there was a slur on us humans with a jab that you couldn’t count our ships as equal to an Iteeche.”

“So, they don’t think much of us,” Kris said, and grinned.  “I like that in an enemy.  Okay, Nelly, get me Ron back.”

A moment later the Iteeche was staring back at Kris.  “We’ve been looking over the message you got demanding your surrender.  If we’re reading it right, it wasn’t a demand, more like an offer that they expected you to accept, what with us being so outnumbered and the human ships not counting for much.”

“They did not say that you do not count for much.  They concluded that you might only be worth three-fourths of an Iteeche battlecruiser in a fight,” Ron said, blandly.

Kris eyed the alien, thinking he was a lot more alien this afternoon than she’d thought of him since they’d spent so much time together on the old Wasp.  “Let’s say that you were caught with, maybe your sixteen ships and another twenty-four Iteeche built and crewed battlecruisers. Let’s say that they have sixty-four or one hundred and twenty-eight.  If you got that message, would you take the surrender option?”

“I would.  To fight would be hopeless.  No one would dare to waste ships and personnel.  Not with the two-eyed alien monsters coming for us at any time.  No, I would surrender and live to fight a worse enemy.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Ron.  You know, of course, that I am my King’s representative to your Emperor and I cannot allow my embassy to fall into rebel hands.”

“I suspected that you humans might see things differently.  That is why I did not answer and why my ships are following your formation.  I remember well your wild and completely unreasonable decision to attack the alien raiders in order to save one planet that meant nothing to you.  And that you continued to fight for that planet against impossible odds.  We cannot understand your reasoning.  It strikes us as foolish, even nonsense.   But I am ordered to deliver you safely to my Emperor and since you insist that I fulfill my orders, I shall.”

“I think you just gave me a compliment, Ron.”

“Hardly, Emissary.  No Iteeche would feel complimented by my words, but I forget, you are an alien.”

“To you, and you are an alien to me.  We must succeed in building bridges to each other’s differences.”

“It would be nice if we could live long enough to do that, Your Highness.  So, tell me.  You are outgunned.  You are outnumbered.  What are you thinking about?”

“That a Longknife is never outclassed,” Kris said.  Ron failed to get the joke, though it drew scowls and shrugs around Kris’s flag bridge.

“I propose that we run away for now.  My fleet has not done enough gunnery practice or maneuvering in battle formations to please me.  I intend to correct that.  Then, I may discover a plan somewhere.”

“I most sincerely hope you do,” the Iteeche said, and clicked off.

Kris found herself in that old familiar place, a hundred things that needed doing and way too little time to do it in.

“Nelly, talk to me about this course.  Put it on screen with the probable tracts of the two hostile forces.”

The main screen on Kris’s flag bridge switched to show the entire system they were in.  Then it zoomed in to just thrust vectors of the three fleets.  Inertia kept Kris’s force sliding toward the first Iteeche set of rebels even as the humans set a course to the third jump.  Having the ships split their power in a vector half devoted to deceleration and the other half to getting out of there, it looked like it would succeed in keeping Kris well away from the oncoming aliens.

Of course, that assumed the hostile Iteeche kept to one gee while Kris pushed away from them at one point five.

“Nelly, keep an eye on the fleet we’re trying not to meet.  If they jack up their power, we’ll need to jack ours up immediately.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral.”

“Next, Nelly, how good are our merchant adventurers at keeping up with one point five gees?”

“No problem for most.  However, the Korfu’s Bet and the I Knew I Could are struggling.”

“Get their skippers on the line,” Kris ordered.

Quickly two merchant captains, neither one in anything resembling a uniform, filled the screen.  “Two questions, gentlemen.  Can you maintain this acceleration and if I have to go to two point five gees, can you do so?” Kris asked.

Both men winced at the questions and settled for shrugs.

“The Bet wasn’t designed for this kind of thing.  We made runs well away from pirates.  You’ve got us pushing the old girl about to her limit now.”

“Same for the Could, ma’am.”

Kris suppressed a sigh.  The merchant ships had been told they had to be ready for 3.5 gees when they joined her fleet.  So much for civilians paying attention to orders.

“If we have to go to two point five gees in a hurry,” Kris said, “our longboats won’t be able to make a trip over to your ships and back.  Do you have any of your crew that you want or will allow to transfer to a warship at this time?”

Both men exchanged worried looks at someone off screen.  In a moment, both were joined by women.  “I’ll stay with my man,” one said.  “Me, too,” the other added.

“But there is no need for our kids to risk this,” one captain said.

The other captain was more specific. “I’d prefer to keep the smallest possible crew aboard, Hon, and get the rest of you over there now.”  He turned to Kris.  “What do you think those four-legged, four-eyed beasties intend to do with us?”

Kris shook her head.  “I have no idea.  It’s possible that they’ll let you surrender.  What that will mean for you, your ship and your cargo, I have no idea.  They want me.  They’ve offered me a chance to surrender, but I’ve have my orders from my king to go to the Emperor’s Court and present my credentials.  These rebels don’t want me to.  I’m told that the rebels haven’t interfered with human travel throughout the Empire.  Of course, they have never tried to stop one of His Majesty’s ships from free transit.”

“So nice things could happen, or all bets could be off and bad things could start going down,” one of the women said.

“I’m afraid that none of those can be discounted.”

That was enough for one woman.  “If you could have a longboat here in an hour, we’ll get the kids and any crew that want to go off to you on that boat.”

“I want you on it, Love,” her captain told her.

“Want all you want, Honey, but I still know how to stand an Engineering watch and that’s where I’ll be if we can’t keep up.”

Kris interrupted what she suspected would be an hour-long argument.  “I’ll have longboats over to both of you in an hour.  If you’ll excuse me, my day has suddenly developed a very long To Do list.”

“You take care of your knitting, Dear, and I’ll take care of boxing a bossy captain’s ears,” one of the women said, and the screen went blank.

“I wouldn’t want to be on the bridge of either of those two boats for the next couple of hours,” Amanda said through a grin.

“Yeah,” Kris agreed.  “Now, Nelly, get me Commodores Ajax and Afon.”

The two young task force commanders were on the main screen before Kris could blink.

“We await your orders,” Ajax said.

“I’m more interested in what you two can do for me.”

“Oh,” showed little surprise from Ajax.

“Yes.  You two know the fleet and its readiness status.  Ajax, you’ve served under me in a fight or two.  You know what I expect from my fighting ships.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What do we need to do to get this fleet ready to fight outnumbered three to one and win?” Kris asked.

“How much time can you give us to draft up an action plan for you?” Ajax asked.  “We know we’ll need ship drills, gunnery practice and maneuvering exercises.  Oh, and ma’am, the admiral had my division absorb all the extra piping for the maneuvering jets and switch the Smart Metal to armor.  We’ll need to see that all the ships are properly modified to jink to your evasion patterns.”

“We’ll start that immediately,” Kris said.

That was one of her greatest frustrations as Battlecruiser Force commander.  She, of course, had changed the design for all battlecruisers under her command on Alwa Station to have extra-large maneuvering jets.  They needed them to fight the kind of battle she intended.  However, it seemed that a captain had certain prerogatives.  He could make minor adjustments to his ship.

On Alwa, Kris had used that prerogative to enlarge the jets.

However, it could go the other way just as well.  Officers like Darlan were quick to reduce the jets and deepen their armor a millimeter or so.  They argued that it was a better use of the metal.  Kris rated those changes as a black mark during her readiness inspections, but she could not persuade higher ups that the larger jets needed to be made a standard for all battlecruisers.

She was told that until her doctrine on the use of battlecruisers in combat was approved, there was no reason to enforce standards for jets on the fleet.

This was one of many reasons Kris liked the idea of being the first human ambassador to the Iteeche Emperor’s Court.  Even with a hundred plus Iteeche battlecruisers on her tail, it still seemed like the better choice.

Or maybe not.

“Include the chief of staff on the Bold on this, but get me that action plan quick.  A draft would be nice in an hour.  We can refine it as we go along, but I want to get started putting combat revolutions on our ships as soon as possible.”

“Captain Tosan asked us to include her in any contact we had with you.  She’s been listening in quietly on all we’ve said.  We all will be back to you in an hour,” Ajax said, and clicked off.

Kris was surprised the chief of staff had done that.  A paranoid person might think she was spying.  A more trusting soul might praise her for exercising her initiative.  Kris shrugged; she’d wait to see how things settled out.

Jack brought her out of her ruminating.  “So, my dear admiral, what mole do we whack first?”

Kris blew him a tiny, inconspicuous air kiss and said.  “Comm, I want a report from each ship of the fleet immediately on the status of its maneuvering jets.  Is it standard or has it been modified?  Grand Admiral Longknife sends.”

Jack leaned close and whispered, “Grand admiral?  Isn’t that laying it on a bit thick.”

“Jack, I just relieved a three star admiral.  I think I better put my five star chop on my message traffic for a bit.”

Jack had nothing to add to that.

“Nelly, put up a fleet list.  Show me how the ships’ captains report and how quickly.”

A new list appeared on the left side of the screen.  All ships were in red.  Even as Kris watched, the ships of Battlecruiser Squadron 13 turned black.  No surprise there, Ajax’s squadron would be ready to answer all bells.

It took five minutes for the other ships to report back.  Some turned black, but they were only a few.  Most ended up blinking red.  When all of them were one or the other, Kris said, “You can quit blinking the problem children, Nelly.  Comm, all ships that have modified their maneuvering jets will work with my computer during the next hour to correct that.  Grand Admiral Longknife sends.”

Kris looked at the board.  “Nelly, turn green the ones that have contacted you and have you working with them.”  Task Force 1 turned green almost immediately.  The sixteen ships of Task Force 2 took a bit longer.  Two minutes later, three ships still showed red.

“Is there a problem, Nelly?”

“I haven’t heard a peep out of them, Kris.”

Kris allowed herself a scowl.  “Get their skippers on the horn, Nelly.”

Standing, Kris smoothed her face to Navy bland.  She was ready as the three captains came on screen.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?”  One was a woman, but Kris was in no mood for a long talk.

The three glanced to their right and left, taking in on screen the resolve of their slow associates.  The woman cleared her throat.

“Admiral, Your Highness, we are aware that your flag has five stars on it, but we’re also aware that the promotion was mostly honorary to improve your negotiating position with the Iteeche.”

“I had four stars before that, and I earned them by killing alien base ships and wiping out their wolf packs of warships,” Kris said, her words cold steel.

“That was a while ago,” one of the other captains chimed in.  “Ships have changed a lot.  We’ve got 24-inch guns.  Does jitterbugging around do a ship like mine any good?”

“Last time I checked, lasers still moved at the speed of light.  In the time it takes a laser beam to travel 200,000 kilometers, a ship can be ten, fifteen or more kilometers from where it was.  If you stay on a steady course, they will predict your future location and they will nail you.  You jink every two or three seconds, one is better, and you won’t be where they’re aiming.  What do you have against jinking?” she asked, having made the case for her order.

What am I doing debating my orders with commanders?

Then Kris remembered how good a subordinate she’d been, herself, and cut the three some slack.  Some slack, but not a whole lot.

The three looked at each other.  They seemed at a loss for words.  One finally spoke.

“My admiral ordered me to keep my ship right in line behind him, ma’am.  He said we wouldn’t need all those jets.”

“Now your admiral is ordering you to make your ship lively.  What’s your problem?”

The three looked pained, but could not come up with an answer.

“Do we really want a strange computer,” the woman finally said slowly, “messing with our ships when we can see hostiles closing on us, ma’am?”

Kris let out a heavy sigh.  “I would prefer not to be doing surgery on the ships under my command at a time like this, yes.  But, I’d rather risk modifying your ship on the run to you not being able to jink enough when we come under fire.  Nelly has never broken a ship she’s worked a quick fix on.  And she’s finished the job in plenty of times.  If you want any expectations for you and your crew to live through this day, get to work on your jets.”

Faced with Kris’s flat out threat, the three captains folded and in a moment, no ships were red on the board.  Kris closed down the comm link and flopped back into her comfortable chair.

“What gives?” she demanded of the overhead.  “I spend five years at a desk and suddenly everyone forgets the king calls me his fightingest captain.”

For a long moment, no one around her said anything.  Jacques, the sociologist finally broke the silence before it bent totally out of shape.

“Kris, when you were on the other side of the galaxy, killing the universal enemy, everyone could cheer you on . . . and then go home to watch something on the telly.  Now, you’ve spent the last five years fighting tooth and nail with some of the powers-that-be here at home.  People have taken sides.  Some are for you, some against, and others just want you to stay far, far away from them and their own private garden.  You see what I’m getting at?”

Kris suppressed a snort.  “It’s easier to worship a war goddess if she stays up on a pedestal on some far away mountain.”

“You got it.  But you came down off your mountain and got your own lovely hands muddy right alongside of them.”

“And now I’m not so special.”

“Your old man must have told you about not paying too much attention to the making of sausage or the passing of laws.”

“Too many times,” Kris admitted.

“Well, guess whose hand were jamming stuff into the sausage maker, right along with the rest of us sweaty mortals?”

“Mine, huh?”

“You definitely.  Those three poor captains have been listening to their bosses and being good skippers.  Then you toss out their god, no, all their gods, and climb up on their still warm but vacant pedestal.  There’s bound to be culture shock.

“Damn,” Kris said.  “You got any suggestions, Jacques?”

He shook his head.  “None better than you’re already doing.  Put the spurs to them and get what you need to keep all of us innocent bystanders from being blown to little atoms.  You’ve done it before.”

“Yes,” Kris said, then glanced Jack’s way.  He gave her an encouraging smile.

“I hope none of you object too much to me getting you and your kids in the middle of this brawl,” she said to all.

Amanda gave a lovely shrug, followed by a glorious smile.  “You kept us alive long enough to have the little darlings.  I trust you to continue the same miracle at least until we can attend the hellions’ college graduation.”

That got a laugh.

Kris wished she could spend a few moments with her kids.  The buzzing had already started in her bones.  The tension would be there until Jack held her.  She’d likely need half an hour at the close of this day.

Assuming this day ever ends.

Until she could approach the kids calmly and lovingly, it was best she let them live in their own world with gramma and grampa close at hand, sure in the love and security of their mom and dad.

Kris sighed.  It was time to get this battle on the road.

Chapter 18

As Kris expected, the first item on the action plan she soon received from her chief of staff and subordinate commanders was to spin up every ship in the fleet to combat revolutions.  A laser hit was bad news for any ship, but if it was spinning at twenty revolutions a minute, the hit would not stay over one part of the skin long enough to burn through.

The battlecruisers had an extra advantage.  Using their Smart MetalTM hide, they could spin just the outer shell of the ship and let everyone inside stay steady.  Still, strange things happened in battle and Kris wanted every ship in her fleet to be able to get a full twenty revolutions on the boat hull as well as the skin in case it was needed.

She started by taking the squadron slowly from Condition Able, or love boat configuration as some old salts called it, to Condition Baker, then Charlie and only lastly to Condition Zed.  Now the ships were shrunk down to a cozy fit.  There was little elbow room but they were a much smaller target with lots of thick armor.

That done, Kris ordered five revolutions slowly put on the outer skin of the hull.  BatRon 13 had no trouble going smoothly up to five.  In the other three battlecruiser squadrons, matters did not go quite so smoothly.  A modification here, an adjustment there had sent protrusions from the internal hull into the external armor.  Spinning the outer skin around such bumps did not go well.

“Admiral,” Commodore Ajax said.  “May I suggest we cancel this drill and let my damage control officers get with the other damage control teams and exchange a few good ideas?”

“A good suggestion, Commodore.  How long do you think they will need?”

“Give us fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll see you in fifteen,” Kris said.

She spent the time going over the proposed training plan that the Chief of Staff had prepared.  It was good; she saw little to add to it, and signed off on it, sending copies to all the ships in her fleet.

Ten minutes later, Ajax advised Kris that the fleet should be ready to attempt the revolution drill again.  This time they gradually went up to five revolutions for the outer hull armor and then added five to the ship.

When that went smoothly, Kris took them up to ten on both.  That was when problems developed with entire ships getting out of balance and throwing their crew about.  It seemed that their outer hull wasn’t quite the same all around the hull.   Defense station made fine adjustments on the precise thickness of the armor.

Kris did her best to suppress a scowl.  On Alwa Station, problems like this would have been addressed before the ship left the yard.

It wasn’t just Smart MetalTM that needed to be balanced around the ship.  Minor problems could be handled by moving reaction mass from one tank to another, but if all the heavy frozen food was on one side of the ship and the lighter fresh vegetables and fruit were on another, you would need more than reaction mass to balance your ship at high revolutions.

Fifteen minutes later after Supply, Damage Control and Defense had put their heads together and done what should have been done when alongside the pier, the ships went up to twenty revolutions.  Kris was careful to do it slowly.  The Bold, of all ships, developed trouble at sixteen RPMs and had to spin down to nothing to fix it, but the fleet waited for it.

Once everyone was at twenty and twenty revolutions, Kris ordered them to fill the cooling honeycomb space of the hull with reaction mass.  This was directly inboard of their spinning outer skin with the crystal armor that was supposed to slow down incoming laser fire, spread it out along the entire ship’s hull and radiate it back out to space.

The crystal did that most effectively, but it often heated up quite a bit in the process.  The inner cooling skin had proved itself critical to survival in combat.  Keeping everything balanced while spinning the outer hull sounded easy, but it was an easy that only came with practice.  Close to an hour later, the entire combination of spinning crystal armor and cooling honeycomb layer flowing with reaction mass were all balanced and shipshape.

All of this should have been done in the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours after this fleet departed High Wardhaven Station.  All of this should have been taken in to consideration when stowing stores aboard warships like these.  Kris found it very frustrating and revealing.  Her escort had sailed unfit for a fight.  This alone was a damn good reason to relieve a certain vice admiral.

“Now, at least we’re looking more like a battle-ready fleet and less like a fancy-dressed honor guard,” Kris growled.

Of course, no doubt if Kris asked, she’d be told all the problems came from moving Smart MetalTM around to shrink the jets and then make them large again.  After due consideration, Kris decided to keep her angry questions to herself.

The ships mended their problems and all were up to forty RPMs on the outer skin and another twenty on the entire ship four hours from the start of the drill.  Now, any hostile laser fire would be aiming for a moving target.

Gunnery practice was next on the list.  It was Kris’s experience that burn through could come a lot faster on a hostile target if she aimed two, three or even four lasers at the same place on a ship’s hull.  That much heat in one small space could be devastating, even to a ship with twenty rpms on the hull.

However, to focus three lasers on one spot 200,000 klicks away required precise gun laying.  That frequently meant modifying the laser cradles to a much tighter tolerance than most builders’ yards were willing to do because it cost time and time was money.  Smart MetalTM allowed gunnery departments to make that type of adjustments to their own batteries.  Every ship on Alwa station did that as a matter of course.

Back home, not so much.

Kris would see that it was done now.

The fleet launched target drones; the small rockets were all motors and communications.  Kris ordered them out to 200,000 kilometers.  There, they spread out a web of dumb metal large enough to produce the silhouette of a battlecruiser.

“Targets are out,” the chief of staff announced on net.

“You may order the exercise to begin,” Kris answered.

“Fleet, take your target under fire,” Captain Tosan ordered.

The large screen on the flag bridge immediately reported that every ship had ceased acceleration, turned to port or starboard to bring their forward batteries to bear and opened fire.  There was no way to tell this from the outside visuals.  Unless a laser passed through something or hit it, there was nothing to see.

However, on Kris’s boards were the names of her battlecruisers and representations of the silhouettes of their targets.  Immediately, the drones began to report hits; they were reflected on the silhouettes beside the ship’s name.  The targets were being hit; not nearly as much as Kris wanted.  And few of the hits were anywhere close to each other.

Worse, a major portion of the fleet was slow getting off their second salvo.  Slower still, on their third.  The exception, each time, was BatRon 13.  Ajax had seen to it that her ships were dialed in and well-drilled in gunnery.

“Cease fire, if you will, Captain.”

The chief of staff passed along the order and the fleet grew quiet.

“Commodore Ajax, your BatRon 13 is outstanding.  Could you please have your Gunnery Officers get in contact with all the other ships and pass along any software or hardware adjustments that helped with your fine score.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” Ajax said, and the fleet went to work.

Lasers that had been delivered by their manufacturers loose in their cradles and not tightened down by the builder, (after all, the guns were government furnished equipment, correcting someone else’s fault wasn’t in their contract,) now were finally braced into place, with all wiggle room removed.

They wouldn’t stay that way.  Any ship that maneuvered hard in space bent and bowed.  Maybe not much, but just enough to loosen the lasers and their cradles.  Just enough so they couldn’t hit the same spot on a ship 200,000 klicks in the distance.  No doubt, if the battle went long, the Gunnery Division would have to retighten them during a pause in battle.

Two hours later, they were ready to resume gunnery practice.  The targets were once more intact.  Dumb metal could be ordered to adjust itself twice before it became a mist of unrelated atoms on the third try.  Kris had almost died when someone gave her a nice new water craft that she thought was Smart MetalTM but wasn’t.  She ended up a rapidly flooding river valley without a boat, much less a paddle.

The drones directed their targets to fill out and again presented a full-sized battlecruiser to shoot at.

“Captain Tosan, you may order the practice to begin again,” Kris said.

In a moment, the order was given and the targets began to report.  Twenty-four inch and 22-inch lasers began to make overlapping hits.  Usually, the overlaps were enough to show that three hits had been made.  Where BatRon 13 was concerned, some of the targets took only four nice, round hits.  Either the other eight lasers had missed, or BatRon13's lasers were smoking the target with three lasers making a single, perfectly round twenty-four-inch hole.

Gunnery was more accurate this time.  Speed for reloading and taking aim at their targets was another matter.

Nelly provided salvo statistics to Kris.  BatRon 13 had succeeded in getting out two volleys every minute.  Several of the ships, including Princess Royal, and Ajax’s flag, Intrepid, were two of the three that managed an eleventh salvo in five minutes.

The other ships had not done nearly as well.  In the five minute shoot, BatRon 13's ships had gotten off eighty-two total salvos.  The best other ship, the Sovereign, almost matched BatRon 13, nine in five minutes.   Three ships got off eight.  Most of the rest were split between seven and six.  Two had trailed at five.

“Accuracy seems to be better this time,” Kris said when Captain Tosan ordered the cease fire.  “I expect every captain to see that their Gunnery Division drills until our fire time is much better across the board.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” Captain Tosan said.

“Captain, you may now shoot the drones,” Kris ordered.

A minute later, the last of BatRon 13's drones was vapor.  Three minutes later, only three ships were still trying to hit the small package that controlled the target.  After waiting another minute, Kris ordered Intrepid and Princess Royal to join in the straggling shoot.  They each got one more drone before a straggler managed to take out its target.

Clearly, if it came to a fight any time soon, Kris’s squadrons would not be equal in their lethality.  Kris awarded a Gunnery E to all of BatRon 13's ships as well as Sovereign.

Kris also ordered dry gunnery drills.  Lots of dry gunnery drills.  “On Alwa Station, we regularly fired our lasers four times a minute.  All Gunnery Officers will review the reports from Alwa and examine ways to apply their rapid fire procedures to our ships.”  Kris could almost hear the groans.  The gun crews would be drilling and drilling and drilling.  The engineers as well.  It took juice from the reactors to charge a laser.  A lot of work hadn’t been done here.

Done with gunnery, Kris ordered, “Take the fleet back to Condition Able.  If our interloping Iteeche have not noticed how small we got, there’s no reason to give them more time to spot us.”

“What’s next?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know about you, but my stomach is growling.  Let’s call it a day and get some chow.”

Lunch had been sandwiches brought up to the flag bridge and wolfed down without Kris taking her eyes off the screens.  Supper would be a bit more civilized.

The wardroom was not quite your usual affair.  They had civilians aboard, so not everyone was in uniform . . . and they had children underfoot.  These tiny to small red-suited figures seemed to be everywhere.  Kris knew exactly how many short people they had aboard, but they still managed to make themselves look like a full invasion force.

Ruth went down the steam tables like a lady, standing close to her mother and doing everything she did.  Johnnie was another matter.  Jack took him in tow and saw to it that his plate had more on it than ham and cheese.

As they settled at a table with Amanda and Jack’s two children, the kids took over the conversation.

“I’ve never seen a ship shrink,” Ruth said.

“I knew they could, but I didn’t think I’d ever see one,” Peter Pierre added.

“I saw it,” Johnnie insisted.  “I was swimming and they blew a whistle and made us all get out of the pool.  I was last,” he tended to dawdle on the best of days.  On any of them, he hated to be bossed, “I looked back and the pool just went away.  It went away!  Will it be back tomorrow?”

“Yes, Dear,” Kris said.  “The ship is already just the way it was.”

“That’s good,” Johnnie said, and nibbled at a string bean, eating it a few millimeters per bite.

“Mother, is there a problem?” Ruth asked.

Kris eyed her daughter.  At six, there was no fear in her eyes, but rather curiosity.

“Yes, we’ve gotten a surprise,” Jack answered for Kris.  “But it’s nothing your mom and dad can’t handle.”

Ruth nodded.  “Good,” and attacked her mashed potatoes.

Peter Pierre and little Lily had watched their friends as they interrogated their parents.  They seemed satisfied with the answer and they and their parents returned to eating.

I’m glad they’re all confident.  I sure wish I was, Kris reflected, and set to eating her own meal.

Chapter 19

The next morning started early.  Kris awoke to Jack softly stroking her back.  They took the first moments of the day for themselves before showering and dressing.  Normally the nannies took care of the children’s morning routine, although Kris occasionally stepped in.  Today, she did.  Ruth dressed herself; Johnnie insisted on taking care of himself, too, but the sleeves on the ship suit got all balled up and he allowed his mommy to help “a little bit.”

They trooped down to breakfast in the wardroom and made the first seating.  Done, Ruth insisted on giving mommy a kiss, and when Kris stooped for Ruth, she got a hug and a kiss from Johnnie, too.  Kris watched as two nannies herded them and several other kids off to play.

“You’re worried,” Jack whispered as they turned to their duties.

“What gave you that idea?”

“The kids sense that you’re spending more time with them, but you’re only half there.  They know something’s up.”

“You think they’re scared?”

Jack shook his head.  “They trust you to take care of them.”

“God help me if I can’t,” Kris whispered.

“You’ve always figured a way out.  You’ll find a way out of this.”

“How?  I’m outnumbered so bad that there is no way I should be able to win, and I’m fighting ships just as good as my own with lasers that have as much reach as I’ve got.  Worse, I’m headed for a jump that goes nowhere.  We can’t fight and we can’t run.”

“But they know they’re chasing Kris Longknife, the one of those damn Longknifes you don’t want to cross.”

“So how do I make my forces match my reputation?”

Jack met that question with two raised eyebrows and not one word of suggestion.

Kris settled into a chair in the middle of her flag bridge.  Nelly made it comfortable as Kris studied the layout of the system she was racing across and the ships that faced each other.

She’d fought pirates.  They’d been easy.  Almost.

She’d fought aliens.  They had huge ships and vast numbers, but they hadn’t fought anyone for a long time.  They were sloppy and their lasers had very short range.  Kris figured out a good way to take them on, and then beat them like a drum.

Wonder what they’re up to out there? she thought, but had no time to follow that question.

Now, for the first time, she was faced with ships just as good as her own manned by Sailors and officers who were trained professionals.  Their crews might be trained better or worse than hers.  Heavens knows, she’d found that the training in her own squadrons was spotty.

Still, if it came to a fight, they’d have three ships to her one and those ships were constructed from the same designs as her own, firing lasers with the same range as hers.

Kris shook her head.  “This will be a slaughter, if it comes to a fight,” she muttered to herself.

“So,” Jack answered what she thought was not a question, “how do we avoid a fight?”

“Nelly, talk to me about that next system.”

“The sun is a red dwarf.  It has both rocky and gas planets.  There is just the one jump in.”

“Any fuzzy jumps?”

“The fuzzy jumps were built after the map your great grandfather discovered on Santa Maria was done.  I won’t know if there is or isn’t a fuzzy jump there until we’re in system.”

“But there could be one,” Kris said.

“Or not,” Nelly answered.

“But we could get reinforcements through that hypothetical fuzzy jump.”

“Hypothetically, yes.”

An idea started to form in Kris’s head.

“Comm.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I want to set up a very low-powered, tight-beam communication net between us and the other flags.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

A moment later, Kris was facing Ron, Commodores Ajax and Afon, as well as the fleet’s chief of staff.

“I want to reorganize the fleet by divisions.  Each task force will reform into four divisions in ranks.  While we’re doing that, I want the Princess Royal and the Bold brought to the head of their division.”

The commodores had followed Kris right up to the point of flipping the two flags with their division flags.  Ajax blinked, but the chief of staff immediately answered, “Aye, aye, Admiral.  When do you want this done?”

“Soonest,” Kris answered.

“We should be able to execute in ten minutes, if that’s acceptable to you.”

“Ten minutes it is.”

Ron coughed softly on net.  “Am I to assume that you wish the Iteeche contingent to reorganize itself in a similar fashion?”

“Yes, Ron, if you could.  Please assure that your ship is at the lead of a division.”

All four of his eyes blinked three times, leaving Kris to wonder if she now had a new way of learning if she had puzzled an Iteeche.

“It will be done,” Ron said.

Kris closed the comm circuit and leaned back in her chair.

“It’s started,” she muttered to herself.

“If I may ask, what has started?” Jack said.

“Us outsmarting one honking big Iteeche fleet,” Kris said.

Ten minutes later, Kris gained a few more pounds as the Princess Royal accelerated into the lead of her division, then lightened up as it reduced acceleration to match with the other ships.  On Kris’s screen, the fleet went from three long lines of sixteen ships, accelerating in ranks beside each other, to something totally different.  Now each of the task forces split into four divisions of four ships, forming a filled-in box.  The fleet had gone from having only three ships with their forward batteries unmasked to fire at anything ahead of them to having twelve.

The transports and freighters following behind the warships were still in their rough line, thirty-five successfully, more or less, following one behind the other.  Now, however, they were farther behind the closest warship.  Calls came in asking if they should catch up, but Kris left them following along where they were.

Returning to her battlecruiser force, Kris noted that her chief of staff, Captain Tosan, had taken this opportunity to open up the distance between the three ranks.  The two outer task forces now had plenty of room to open up their divisions, swinging them out in echelon so that all sixteen ships could fire ahead.  Now there was enough distance between the two outer task forces to allow the middle one to deploy its ships forward.

Good move, Captain.  Good initiative.

Now it was time for Kris to make something happen.

First, however, “Comm, what are the chances that there will be any scatter off our low power tight comm beam between the flagships that could reach the aliens behind us.”

“Very slim chance, Admiral, almost nil now that you have all the flag ships even with each other.  Our tight beam is aimed at ninety degrees from their course.  Even if they do get something, we’ll be scrambling your conversation and I can hop frequencies so even if they get a fragment of it, they’ll have to chase it down on another frequency.  They won’t get enough signal to make anything out of it.”

“Well done, Comm, thank you.” Kris said, then began the laborious process of pulling a reluctant rabbit out of a way too small hat.

Chapter 20

Her Royal Highness, Grand Admiral Kris Longknife turned to the four faces on the main screen in front of her.  She took in a deep breath and began to see if her idea might actually have the seeds of a plan in it.

“I am facing a conundrum,” she began.  “If we fight, we fight outnumbered three to one.  I don’t like those odds.”

Heads on the screen nodded.  Even Ron managed to made some sort of a nod, though it started at his waist.

“It also appears that we cannot run.  The only jump point that doesn’t have a stronger fleet between it and us seems to go nowhere.”

The humans nodded again.  Ron breathed out something that might pass for a sigh.

“Yet, we cannot surrender.  I bear a commission from my king and it does not allow me to take myself off to anywhere a rebel pasha may drag me.”

No one nodded this time.  It looked like all four were holding their breath.  Waiting for a Longknife to pull another miracle out of some place or another.  With a deep breath, Kris started feeling around for a pair of rabbit ears.

“Ron.  During the Iteeche War, your warships played hobs with our fire control systems by casting their mass density somewhere else.  I believe you used that same capability when you came hunting for me and ran into a couple of Greenfeld cruisers.”

“Yes, we did use the masker then, and we have maskers on our ships now,” he answered, then added, “as do the ships pursing us.”

Kris nodded.  One question down, now for the big one.  “Have you ever tried putting more than one masker on a ship?  Have you ever had one ship throwing its mass in several directions at the same time?”

“No.  Why would we do such a thing?”

“I’ll get back to you in a minute on that,” Kris said and switched to her two task force commanders.  “How many target drones do you have on board your ships?”

“Normally, we are issued twelve.  We replace them as we use them up but on average, accounting for normal wastage, we’d only have nine to ten,” Commodore Ajax answered.  “However, we hadn’t had much chance for gunnery practice before we sailed, so our holdings were pretty close to complete.  Then, before we departed, someone shipped a full resupply to us.”  Ajax looked off screen to check something.  “BatRon 13 has on average twenty-three per ship.  I’d have to check with BatRon 14 for their count.”

Afon was ready with his own answer.  “BatRon 11 has the same number, say twenty-three on each ship.  I’ve made a call to BatRon 12.  I should have that number in a moment.”

“Ron, are your battlecruisers carrying any target drones?”

“Yes, we are, Princess.  But ours are not so sophisticated as yours.  Ours are just balloons with small rocket motors attached.”

Which told Kris that the Iteeche Empire might not be as committed to good gunnery as the US ships were . . . assuming the ships actually did some gunnery practice.  Considering how many of their issued targets were still in storage on Kris’s ships, it didn’t bode well for them in a shootout either.

“Okay.  Now a question for you, Ron.  How badly do you have to be outnumbered before your sense of honor or whatever they were appealing to you for a surrender, would kick in?  I don’t mean how badly would things have to be before you surrendered.  All I want is a number large enough that they’d turn tail and run.”

“You mean how badly would I have to be outnumbered before I could honorably choose to turn my back on an enemy and still be able to claim the honors of war from my Emperor?”

“I think that’s about what I asked.”

Ron thought for a long minute.  When he began to talk, his words came slow and thoughtful.  “In our histories, any fleet that is outnumbered two-to-one by a force where all things are equal has been able to depart the field of battle with honor.”

Ron turned and barked a few words to someone off screen.  An answer came back a moment later, to be followed by more questions and answers.

“I should have talked to my tactical officer first.  If I had, I would not have had to worry that I was giving you a false answer.  It seems that our tactical computer is made ready to answer your question.  At two-to-one odds, we are required to break off action at all costs and save what we can.  At odds of three-to-two we may engage without fear of being asked to make serious apologies for our stupidity to our superiors.”

Kris was left to wonder how different a serious apology was from just a normal old apology, but she didn’t have time to ask that question.  “So, we would need twice as many ships to assure ourselves that they would flip ship and run for the nearest jump.”

“Yes,” Ron said, but the word hung in the air as more a question than a statement.

“They have one hundred and twenty-eight ships,” Kris said slowly.  “We would need 256 ships to send them running.”

“Yes,” Ron said, and made his answer sound like a lead weight.

“So, if thirty-two of our ships could pass themselves off as a squadron of eight, we’d have 256 plus our other sixteen.  Faced with that, they’d have to run.”

“Yes, their tactical computers would advise them to break off contact.  However, how do we make those thirty-two ships appear to our pursuers as a massive fleet?” Ron asked, puzzled.

“Your sensor suites are pretty much the same as ours.  Your range finders and target control systems rely on visual, laser, gravitational as well as electronic sensors.  I propose we use human gear to fool the first two, Iteeche maskers to cover the gravitational, and then jam the rest.  Doing that, we show our pursuing Iteeche a fleet of 256 ships coming back through the next jump.  A fleet that they can see, laser and get magnetic and gravitational anomalies off of, but can only get hash off of electronically.

Kris turned to her commanders.  “Commodore Afon, your squadron will be left guarding the jump while the rest of us pass out of the system.  Once Commodore Ajax has got our ships multiplied like good loaves and fishes, we’ll come back through the jump and do our best to scare Ron’s rebels out of their pants and out of this system.”

There was dead silence on net for a painfully long minute as people mulled Kris’s latest rabbit.

It was Ron that broke the quiet of the tomb.  “Pardon me, Kris Longknife, but I fear that your plan will not work.”

“What’s the problem, Ron?”

Ron gazed at the deck for a moment, then said, “I cannot allow you to place maskers on your ships.  Just as you have technology that your government insists must not be given into our hands, we have some things that we are keeping from you.  The masker is just such a technology.  I cannot allow you to place them on your ships, even assuming that a ship could duplicate its signal seven times.  You know, that has never been done.”

“I understand that point, Ron.  I was expecting that we could create a masker as soon as we jump out of this system and test the concept.”

“That is another problem.  We do not make the maskers out of Smart Metal.  To do that, we would have to involve you humans.  Even more, I do not know that we could make them out of Smart Metal even if we had the programming skill.”

Kris’s rabbit hopped back into that hat and went poof.

Quickly, she examined her options and found them nil.  Well, maybe there was one.

“Ron, if I were to give you one of our prohibited technologies, could you let us have access to your maskers?”

Ron’s head was shaking even as she spoke.  On an Iteeche, a head shake wasn’t just a nod.  They could turn their neck through almost 270 degrees, something that was a survival skill in the depths of their oceans long ago.

“I am sorry, Kris.  I know you mean well, but I do not believe that your writ extends to granting us any embargoed technology.  I know that I have no authority in that area.”

“Even for a little while?  Just long enough for us to chase them out of the  system and reach your Emperor?”

Ron glanced off screen, then stepped out of view.  The audio take from his ship dropped out of the net.

“Kris, are you sure you could grant them an embargoed tech?” Jack asked.  “Don’t you think you might need to consult with the representatives from the other systems that we’ve got on board?”

Kris had to admit to the possibility that she should be doing what Ron was, going off the general net and holding a powwow with power.  However, she had never had to ask permission for how she intended to fight a battle.  Of course, avoiding this battle would involve doing more than fighting.  Jack might be right.

She was saved from having to start a consultative session with her putative subordinate diplomats by Ron coming back on screen.

“I am sorry, Kris, but my advisors are adamant that I not give you access to the maskers.  I can not go against their unanimous advice.”

“I’ve just been advised that I should probably consult my advisors and would, doubtlessly, find myself facing the same brick wall.”

“We are called to court, but there is no way that we can obey.  I fear that I will have to make a serious apology to my Emperor if I live long enough to see him again.”

Ron’s words were sad to the point of mortal.  Kris wondered if such an apology might be required of her by the Emperor as well.  Hmm.

“May I interject myself here?” Nelly said from Kris’s collar bone.

“If you have an idea, Nelly, the floor is yours.” Kris answered.

“It is possible that I can offer another way forward,” Nelly said, and Ron perked up.

“Nelly, you have often been helpful.  Do you have an idea?” Ron asked.

“I do not have any idea but Kris’s.  However, I might be able to offer a way around your fear of your technology being transferred to the humans.”

“How?” both Ron and Kris said at the same time.

“As a computer, I keep some of my processes in temporary memory.  When I wipe that temporary memory, everything that was in it is gone.  Even I cannot retrieve it.  Normally, I only keep low order functions in temporary memory.  However, I could expand my temporary memory and store everything I needed to scope out the specs and workings of the maskers, how to reproduce them in Smart Metal as well as the production, testing and operations of them.  Once we no longer need that data set, I would then wipe it out, reorganize the matrix down to the atomic level and reuse it for something else.  I would not only have none of the data, but I would have no matrix left that I had organized specifically for handling that data.  There would be nothing there, Ron.”

Ron stared through the screen for several long seconds.  “You could do that?”

“Yes,” Nelly answered straightforwardly.  “In addition, before I wiped that memory, I could provide you with the specifications and supporting programs to create the maskers out of Smart Metal.  The Iteeche Emperor would gain something and the humans would gain nothing.  Well, nothing but the potential of arranging for the departure of these rebels and our safe arrival into the presence of your Emperor.”

“But if a human asked you to make a full data dump to a backup storage while the operation was in process?” came from the Iteeche side of the screen.  An Imperial advisor in green and white court raiment came to stand beside Ron.  He said something more; the translation came from Ron’s breast.  “If that woman, Princess Kris Longknife, were to order you to do something, you would obey, would you not?”

Kris failed to suppress a smile.  Exactly how would Nelly answer that question?

“Statistically speaking,” Nelly said, “I am known to obey Princess Kris some 85% of the time.  A further 12% of the time, I obey after I argue with her or give her lip.  I believe that in some three percent of the instances where she orders me that I do not do what she wants and she decides that I was correct.”

Kris made a face, “That sounds about right.  However, I think I can go one step farther for the sake of your counselor and your Imperial embargo of restricted technology.  Nelly, log this order.  This order supersedes all orders from me on this subject and is not subject to revocation, change or modification in any other way by me.  Are you ready to copy under these conditions, Nelly?”

“I am ready to record in permanent, read only text, Kris.”

“You will work alone with the Iteeche to construct the maskers that we need to get out of the mess we are presently in.  You will work with no human.  You will store all data you need to complete this project in temporary storage retrievable only by Ron the Iteeche.  When you are finished with this project you will provide a complete data dump to Ron and then you will erase that data when the project is over and reorganize the matrix that you have used.”

Kris paused for a moment, then satisfied with that part of her order, she went on, “You will use Smart Metal aboard both the human and Iteeche battlecruisers to create enough maskers to make it appear that each of our ships are followed by seven ghost ships.  The maskers that you create on human ships will be operated by you or autonomous systems you put in place.  You will make whatever arrangements you need to assure that the maskers placed on human ships cannot be subjected to any examination, by any means you know to be available to human technology.  If such an examination is attempted, you will have the Smart Metal of the masker immediately reduce itself to its basic structure.  You developed something like that to operate on any of your children if they were tampered with, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Kris, I have and I can apply the same dead man’s switch to these systems.”

Kris looked around her bridge, then back at the figures on the screens.  “Does anyone have any further suggestions?  Ron, is there any addition any of your advisors would like to add?”

“If one of your masker systems should shut itself down,” a Navy officer in an Iteeche gray and gold uniform said, “that will make our entire operation fail.  Ships that can be seen and lazed do not simply lose their mass in the middle of space.”

“That is true,” Kris said.  “That logic will encourage my ship captains to assure that all the maskers are under guard at all times.”

“No, that is not what I meant to say,” the Iteeche officer said.  “Any system can fail.  If your computer designs a system to ensure that our technology is not tampered with, could it not also activate at the worst time for no other reason than a system failure?”

“Nelly?” Kris said, handing it off to her.

“The admiral is correct,” Nelly began, showing that she could now read Iteeche Navy rank, “if I make a mistake, the entire operation could fail.  However, sir, I respectfully propose that I can come up with several fail-safties that will assure that the destruct systems are not activated until and unless there is a breach of your equipment’s security.  I had intended to keep myself in the loop to perform an eyes on examination of the situation as it develops.  I could also include Princess Longknife as well as an Iteeche in that loop if you wish.  That would mean that we would move a bit slower, but, what with the guards maintained around the physical systems, we should know who did what and how.”

Kris eyed Ron.  “We could make the destruction sequence work automatically, or we could make it only work after the attempted breach has been reviewed by a human and/or Iteeche in real time.  Which way do you want to go?”

“Give us a moment, please, Kris,” and the feed from the Iteeche flag cut off.

Kris took a couple of deep breaths.  “That didn’t go down the way I’d expected.”

“Did I help, Kris?” Nelly asked,

“You were outstanding, gal.  I thought we were dead there for a moment, then you came up with the save.  This legendary Longknife miracle is officially a shared Kris and Nelly miracle.”

“Thank you, Kris, now about my pay . . .” Nelly began, but the take from the Iteeche flag came back on and attention on Kris’s flag bridge turned to Ron and several Iteeche standing around him.

“Kris, we would like to consider going to a destruction loop that would include both me and you in it.  However, we would also like to include in the guard around the maskers Iteeche, ah, you would call them Imperial Marines.  Is there any problem with a detachment of eight of them going aboard each of your ships that will be using masker technology?”

“I don’t think so,” Kris said slowly, glancing Jack’s way.  His eyes were worried slits but he nodded.  “We may restrict their movement the same way you might restrict our Marine guards stationed on your ships.”

“Movement restrictions, so long as they don’t involve the area around the maskers, will be acceptable.  We would also like to have them take some sensors for alerting us to probes directed at the maskers.”

“What kind of sensors?” Kris asked cautiously.

“Something to detect x-rays and other invasive probing.”

“Now it’s my turn to need to consult with my staff,” Kris said.

Again, the Iteeche screen went blank.

“Folks, I need input and I need it fast.  Sensors.”

“Hard to say, ma’am.  I don’t know the state of their sensor technology.”

“However,” Captain Tosen put in, “any device that comes aboard to record x-rays could also take readings from the whole of the electromagnetic spectrum as well as any other sensor that was imbedded in the device.  We know that they are very curious about the crystal armor that we use to slow down laser hits and then reflect them back into space.”

“Is the risk of compromising embargoed technology high enough for us to gamble this entire diplomatic initiative falling apart?” Jacques asked, coming out of his seat.  Kris had forgotten that he and Amanda had been sitting there; they’d been so quiet.  “Kris, do you trust Ron, your Iteeche friend?”

Kris nodded.

“Yes,” the chief of staff said, “but can you trust every Iteeche in those squadrons?  Can you trust that someone a whole lot less trustworthy has gotten a few intelligences gathering assets aboard those battlecruisers?  Will Ron know and approve every Iteeche that boards our ships?  How many intelligent assets do you think Admiral Crossenshield has slipped onto your ships or the merchant ships following us?”

Kris scowled at the screen.  “Did you have to put it that way?”

“What other way can I put it, Admiral?  I’m paranoid.”

“I’ve worshiped at the altar of that virtue many times,” Kris admitted, and couldn’t suppress a smile.  I’ve finally met someone more paranoid than I am.

Kris took in a deep breath and made her decision.  “Reopen the comm link with Ron,” and three Iteeche immediately appeared on the screen.

“Ron, I see your need to know if your tech is being toyed with.  I’m willing for you to send over one of your sensor experts.  We will show them exactly what sensors we’re using to keep your gizmo secure.  He can watch it with our tech.  That’s the best I can do.  I’m sure you’d be just as concerned if I asked to put sensors of unknown capability aboard all of your ships.”

Ron turned to the counselor in court garments of green and white.  “I told you that she would not accept your wild bid.  You should be grateful that she didn’t just slam the door in our faces but instead, she has left us an out.”

The counselor muttered something that the translator did not catch.

“What did he say?” Kris whispered to Nelly.

“Something along the lines of ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained’,” Nelly whispered, “but with strong sexual overtones.”

“Add that one to your dictionary,” Kris ordered softly.

“Done.”

Ron had bumped elbows with the counselor and he fled.  That bit of drama over, Ron turned back to Kris.  “We will use the option you have just laid out.  Our Marines will also field strip their weapons for you and you may apply sensors to anything they bring aboard.  No doubt, you will expect that someone will attempt to slip something aboard one of your ships.  I will do my best to see that no such device leaves our ships and you should feel free to assure yourself that I have not failed to keep my pledge to you, Princess.”

“I trust your pledge to me, Ron.  You may trust my pledge to you.  Unfortunately, neither one of us can assure that any of our crew are not in someone else’s pocket.

“A gentle phrase, Kris.  I was thinking more of a traitor.”

Kris stored that fact away to discuss further with Nelly.  “I believe we are done here.  Are you willing to allow Nelly access to your gizmo now or do you want to delay until we are on the other side of the jump?”

“I am not worried about the ships following after us getting anything from your Nelly looking into our gizmo, as you called it.  They already know what we all know.  Let your Nelly set up a very tight beam to my flag so that they discover as little of what we are about as possible and we shall begin to see if what we are attempting is even possible.”

Chapter 21

Much better drilled, Princess Kris Longknife’s so-called diplomatic fleet drifted up to the jump while their pursuit was still days away.  Maneuvering jets took off the last bit of energy and the fleet came to a complete halt.

“I will order two ships through to scout the darkness,” Ron announced.

Kris waited as patiently as she could for several long seconds to go by before a messenger buoy popped back into the space where the jump sat and gave them an all clear.

Kris had spent most of the last two days practicing patience.

Nelly got exasperated with Kris asking over and over again, “Have you figured out the maskers yet?”

After the fourth time Nelly suggested patiently that Kris go play with the children.  The fact that Nelly didn’t snap at Kris said way too much.  Nelly understood Kris’s need to know what was happening but likely she was have a tough time of it and needed Kris to go away.

With a sigh, Kris took Nelly’s advice and hunted up the children in school and settled herself down in a kid-size chair to help them with their learning.

It didn’t take Ruth long to get tired of the help.  “Moo-ther, I know how to do this.  Don’t you have some admirally thing to do?”

The look from the young teacher was enough to send Kris on her way.

She wandered back into flag plot and spent a long moment staring at the situation that had developed in their pursuit.  No extra ships had appeared from either jump point.  Apparently, she could have tried to fight her way through to the jump that would take her to the Imperial Court.

Kris shrugged.  Even if Admiral Darlan had attempted it, no doubt the Iteeche rebels would have taken advantage of the nearby planet to provide him with a long, running gun battle.

Would our crystal armor have made enough of a difference? Kris wondered.

She chose to ignore that question; it was a might-have-been.  What she did look at were her prospects for fighting her way through her pursuers now.  They were drawing together, but they were still well apart.

Could I turn this fleet around and hit the first fleet before the second fleet could haul itself into the fight?

Kris did not want to joggle Nelly’s elbow, so she fed the question into her battle board and let it do the math.  Much of it was math.  Could her ships jack up their deceleration to 3.5 gees, bring themselves to a halt in space and then hurl themselves back at the first group of rebel battlecruisers?  It was, of course, possible, though the transports and merchant ships might not handle it so well.  Still, she could give battle that way.

But could the second fleet of rebels come up quickly to turn it into that three-to-one fight that she doubted even her crystal armor could handle.  Assuming they also went to 3.5 gees deceleration then turned it into acceleration toward the future battle, they’d arrive when?

The battle board gave Kris a very quick answer.  She’d have the first group for just one hour before she had to take on the second.

Maybe that is worth a try.

“But what if,” came in Jack’s familiar voice, “the first fleet jacks up its deceleration and runs away from you until the other fleet can join with it?”

“You came in very quietly,” Kris said, turning to her general husband Marine.

“And aren’t you glad that I’m a good guy and don’t have a knife at your throat?”

“Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?” Kris asked, noting that he did have one or the other.

“I’ll show you, in a minute, but let’s finish this.”

Kris turned back to the battle board and quickly entered in the option for her enemy that Jack had mentioned.  Yep, the two forces could join before she caught up with the first.

“Damn, you’re smart,” she whispered.

“And I’m just a dumb jarhead,” Jack said, a chuckle in his voice.  “No doubt, the admirals on the other side would think of that as soon as you hiked up your deceleration.”

“So, I’m just scratching an itch I can’t get at anyway.”

“Well, I have an itch that might be able to scratch your itch.”

“Are you setting me up?” Kris said, trying to be angry, but unable to raise the ire.  “Did half the ship send you in here to get the old lady off their backs?”

“It was more like three quarters, but none of them said anything about the ‘old lady’.  It was more like ‘could you please take that cute young admiral off to bed’.”

So, Kris had let herself be seduced into bed by her dutiful husband.

After a deliciously well-spent afternoon, she found she could spend time with the children without being sent away.  Between them, and Jack’s careful ministrations, the tension of the wait was held within reasonable limits.

Nelly still hadn’t given Kris a progress report when they came to a halt before the jump.  That itch was galloping back with a vengeance, but Kris held any complaints.

Ron took his squadron through.  As he did, Kris issued orders to Task Force 2 to hold the jump at all costs until relieved.

“I will return and support you with my full, reinforced fleet.”

Commodore Afon gave Kris a crisp reply.  The comm folks made sure what they said could be picked up by the approaching fleet.  They even used a less secure scrambler to pass the word along quickly.

That done, Kris followed Ron into the next system.

A quick scan showed exactly one jump.  There were no other jumps, either conventional or fuzzy.  Still, the approaching Iteeche would not know that.  On that rested Kris’s entire strategy.  That, and Nelly figuring out the masker technology, how to duplicate it on the human ships, and them all, Iteeche and human, being able to throw their mass out seven times each.

They’d also need to throw that mass to exactly where the human targets would be following them.

Kris gritted her teeth.  She knew what she needed to pull this off.  Had the Magnificent Nelly come through with the necessary magic?

“I count eighteen Iteeche ships in the system,” Sensors reported.

“Eighteen?” Kris echoed.

“Eighteen,” Sensors repeated.   “Sixteen that stay put and two that kind of wander around, Admiral.”

“Yes, Kris,” Nelly reported in an exasperated voice.  “There are two that keep wandering off.  It seems the Iteeche have never gotten a solid handle on keeping the maskers in one place.  I’m working on that.  We also have a second problem.  The closer the masses are to one another, the more unstable the signal becomes.  And no, I haven’t tried seven in one place or worse, the twenty-eight I’ll need to represent a four ship division making like it’s a task force.”

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Kris said in her most soothing voice.  It worked on human subordinates.  She doubted it would fool Nelly.

“So, why don’t you tend to your side of the shop and I’ll take care of mine,” Nelly said and seemed to disappear again from Kris’s head.

Kris did have plenty to deal with on her side.  The entire fleet, Iteeche, Human Navy and merchants were drifting in space.  They had been drifting for a good quarter hour on the other side.  No doubt, stomachs were well past queasy.

“Comm,” Kris ordered, “send to merchants, ‘Merchant fleet, get underway at one quarter gee.  We will advise you when you need to reverse course.”

“Thank you,” came back from quite a few open mics.  Despite them being made of Smart MetalTM for the long run to Alwa, Kris ordered the Navy transports to get underway and the merchant ships immediately followed in their wake.  Even Grampa Al’s three big ships didn’t quibble over the course and acceleration.  One skipper did, however, feel compelled to ask a question.

“Why are we only doing a quarter gee?  I and my crew would be a lot happier with at least a half gee.”

“Because,” Kris answered, “I may need for you to return to the jump a lot faster than you went out.  Do you want to be left behind when the Navy sails?”

She got no answer to that.

Kris then ordered the battlecruisers to anchor in pairs and begin to swing around each other, creating a decent sense of down.  Smart MetalTM battlecruisers could do that.  Merchant ships with their regular materials or, even if they were Smart MetalTM, with their cargo load very likely loaded with no thought to balance, could not.

Her fleet now deployed for a long wait, Kris made her way to the sensor team on her flag bridge.  She stood behind them with a clear view of what Nelly was attempting.  The number of false gravity centers grew, but any apparent control over them only got worse.

Kris found Jack at her elbow.  “Nelly has called her kids in to help her,” he said.  “Mine is gone as well as Megan’s.  I understand from Amanda and Jacques that theirs are also dragooned.  I don’t know if Abby and Bruce’s computers are involved.”

Kris pursed her lips, but kept her mouth shut.

“Kris,” Nelly finally said, “I know you know we have a problem.  Could you have your ship computers combine their target practice drones into fourteen per ship and see just how good a fake ship you can knock together?”

“We’ll get on it,” Kris said.  For a moment, the fourteen per ship stumped her.  Then it fell in place.  Each of the sixteen human battlecruisers would have to make seven decoys for themselves and seven more for an Iteeche ship.

Kris turned the job over to Captain Tosen who soon had an experimental decoy drifting close aboard all four of the flagships.  The target’s dumb metal had been stretched out as long as a battlecruiser.  That was normal.  What was unusual was the need to create a balloon as wide around as a battlecruiser.  Normally the target was a two-dimensional cutout kept broadside to a battlecruiser for the gunnery drill.  It only needed to record the hits on the silhouette.  Now, Kris needed a three-dimensional representation of a battlecruiser at Condition Zed.

There wasn’t enough dumb metal to do that.

“We’re going to need more metal,” the chief of staff reported to Kris.

“Can we mix Smart and dumb metal?” Jack asked.

“They’ve been working on it,” Kris said, “but we’re still not there.  What I think we can do is use the dumb metal for the frame and reaction mass tanks.  We could clad the frame with Smart Metal and maybe keep it rigid by blowing it up with hydrogen from the reaction tanks.”

“You are willing to pull Smart Metal from the battlecruisers to do this?” the chief of staff asked.

“With any luck, we won’t need the small amount that we pull from the battlecruisers’ armor.  If things don’t work out our way, we can always pull the decoys back and suck the metal out of them.  We sure won’t need the decoys if we’re being attacked.”

The chief of staff nodded, then began issuing orders to create the kind of balloon decoys that Kris wanted.  Before she could finish, Commodore Ajax interrupted.

“Excuse me, Captain, but I’ve got a Gunnery officer who thinks we’ve got another problem that we’d better take a gander at.”

“Yes,” came from Captain Tosen along with a kind of “How can this get any worse?” sigh.

A new face appeared on the screen.  “I’ve done the calculations with our Engineering officer.  If they’re right, the anti-matter motors we have on our target drones are not going to hack it pushing the full weight of this balloon decoy.  Has anyone else done the math?”

The chief of staff drew in a deep breath, then asked for the calculations.  The numbers appeared on Kris’s screen as well.  The target drone was a mere fifty tons of dumb metal.  To create a full three-dimensional decoy, they’d need another hundred tons of Smart MetalTM.  They’d need more reaction mass, both to move the heavier decoy and to keep it moving until the rebels exited the jump ahead of them.  All of that added mass that the rocket motor would have to move.

That totaled out as a two-hundred-and-fifty-ton decoy.  The drone’s anti-matter reaction motors were expected to last for a couple of hours at one to two gees pushing along just one fifth of that amount.

“We’ll need bigger motors,” Kris said to herself.  On net, the same conclusion was now obvious to everyone.

“Okay,” Captain Tosen said, “anyone got a design for that size of an anti-matter motor?  I’d hate to have to put a motor the size of a longboat in one.”

Kris tapped her commlink.  “Comm, can you get me Abby.”

A moment later, “You called, boss lady?” came in the familiar voice.

“Yep, I called.  Is your computer available to help us with an engineering problem?”

“Engineering problem?  That’s not normally her line of work, but it don’t matter, Nelly’s dragooned my kid into working with her, too.”

“Ouch,” Kris said.  “Are we going to have to solve this problem with no help at all?”

“I could help,” came in the cheerful voice of a young woman.  “Nelly didn’t grab my Dada,” Cara announced, as confident as any teenager.  “I don’t think Nelly considers us fit to do any real work.  She’s wrong, but me and Dada don’t care.  What can we do for you, Aunt Krissie?”

Kris swallowed the auntie bit and explained the problem.

“Give us a minute,” Cara said when Kris was done.

Exactly sixty seconds later, a schematic of an anti-matter reaction motor appeared on Kris’s screen.  She passed it along to her chief of staff who passed it through to the Bold’s engineering officer.

“We were just laying out the problem and you’ve got a solution?” came across the net.

“They used one of Nelly’s kids to design it,” the chief of staff replied.

“Damn, where do we get one of those?” was just a whisper, but Kris suspected it was a sincere plea for one of the new toys.

“They are not a standard Navy issue item,” Kris answered.

Immediately, a second decoy began to form close alongside the Bold.

“Sensors, talk to me about that new one.”

“It’s a visual, laser, and radar return match for the Bold to the thirteenth decimal place.  I can calculate its mass to the kilogram, and there’s not a lot there.  The signature off the anti-matter reactor isn’t in any of my databases, but I’d place it as about in the middle between a captain’s gig and a target drone.”

“Good, so if we jam the right frequencies, they can see it with their eyeballs, all four of them, and touch it with their lasers, but they can’t tell a thing about it otherwise.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Comm, get me the flag,” and quickly Kris was connected.  “Captain Tosen, my sensors say that you’ve got a dead ringer for a battlecruiser there.  Are you ready to put them into production?”

“Yes, Admiral.  So, how’s Nelly doing with the mass problem?”

“I’m waiting for her next report.”

“Well, I propose that we move the anchorage for the fleet to a line of pairs and array the decoys in line behind them.”

“I agree.  Make it so,” Kris ordered.

In a moment, the fleet broke out of its present anchorage and quickly drifted into a line, then anchored itself again.  Over the next hour, existing target drones were reconfigured and re-engined.  The original engine was dedicated to maneuvering jets.  If Kris wanted to get her ships doing their usual jig, these decoys could walk the walk.

“We’ve done our part,” Kris whispered to herself.  “Now we wait for Nelly to pull the rest of the rabbit out of my hat.”

“I’m surprised at how long it’s taking her,” Jack said.

“Yes,” Kris agreed.  She settled into her chair.  She would not joggle Nelly’s elbow.

I won’t.  I won’t.  I won’t.

Chapter 22

Kris twiddled her thumbs for the next hour.  Time stretched.  Nothing happened.

She thought of dropping by the preschool to see how the kids were doing, then discarded the idea.  Likely Ruth would just sense her mom’s nervousness and send her packing again.

Smart kids.

Now that the Iteeche rebels were on the other side of the jump, Kris was getting no intel on their developments.  She couldn’t even examine her options for a fight.

Kris knew Nelly was coming back before her computer said a word.  Kris felt her renewed presence in her head.  Kris was tempted to start asking questions immediately, but she kept her mouth shut and did her best to do the same for her thoughts.

There are times when having a computer in your head is not all it’s cracked up to be.

“Kris, we have solved a significant portion of the challenges presented by the maskers,” Nelly finally reported from Kris’s collar bone.  “However, we have not succeeded in resolving all the issues.”

Is Nelly dodging?  “Tell us what you have,” Kris said.

“We can throw the mass of a battlecruiser seven times.  Maybe more.  Stabilizing that mass is not so easy.  We’ve found that if you keep the masses at least eight hundred kilometers away from each other, the interference can be reduced to a minimum.  We’ve also found that there is a limit to how far you can project the mass.  If you try to cast it more than five or six thousand klicks, the mass begins to attenuate.  In other words, your battlecruisers will start losing tonnage.”

“That’s not something we want,” Kris said.

“I would recommend,” Nelly went on, “that you move the casting ship to somewhere in the middle of the supposed column, say fourth or fifth.”

“I think we can do that, though we may have a problem when ships start coming through the jump.”

“I think we can work something out,” the chief of staff offered.  “Maybe we could keep a pair of guard ships anchored near the jump and have them project tonnage for the first decoys through the jump until their squadron flag comes through.  It can be done.  However, we do need to get the mass to match up to the decoy’s location.  Does your computer have any idea how we manage that?”

“You need to understand that the maskers are not native Iteeche technology,” Nelly said.  “They found one in an alien ship they discovered on a planet that had once had a small colony from one of the three.  They understand maskers even less than we understand the Santa Maria vanishing box.  They’ve had the masker longer and looked at it less.  We hammered at that enigma for eighty years and got the beam guns.”  Nelly paused before going on.

“From what we’ve figured out from our lengthy study of the vanishing box, we can chip projectiles off of neutron stars.  We think we can even punch holes in ships.  We cannot, however, make the entire top of a mountain disappear like the original box did.  We still haven’t figured out that bit of technical know-how.”

“Getting back to the maskers, we have no idea what the aliens used the gizmo for.  The Iteeche have managed to use it to displace the mass of their ships.  They don’t know how they do it any better than we know how to build a jump.”

Kris nodding along as Nelly made her report.  It was not unusual for the mysterious residue of the three alien races that had built the highway among the stars and vanished two or three million years ago, leaving humans puzzled.  Kris had found two alien planets.  One was a treasure trove of objects that were completely incomprehensible, and often dangerous to the human that found them.

The second planet was a death trap.  From distant observations, the planet appeared to be nearly intact.  But the observations had to be visual and taken not too far from the jump.

The planet’s defensive system or something just as destructive, had also survived in something like working order.  Any probe that got too far from the jump got very much destroyed.  That had included at least two aggressive human expeditions that had more greed than common sense.  No one had been recovered from either of those ships.

Kris let those thoughts tumble around in her brain, along with their problem of getting what they wanted from the maskers.  We’d given up on making the Santa Maria vanishing box work and settled for something quite different from what we wanted.

Could she settle for something else from the maskers?

A thought slowly worked its way into her thinking.

“Nelly, do you remember the first time we met Ron?”

“I remember some of it very clearly.  Then you turned me off,” Nelly harrumphed.  Nelly could hold quite a grudge if the violation of her pride was too egregious.

“Let’s ignore that for a moment, shall we,” Kris said.  “I remember that sometimes the Greenfeld cruisers were shooting very close to the old Wasp.  Other times, not so much.”

“Yes.  It was the close shots that caused me to want to shoot back at them before they shot us to junk,” Nelly reminded Kris.

“Were you tracking their target?  I know we had a visual on Ron’s death puff.  Did our gravity laser track its mass?”

“Yes, Kris.  I keep that incident in active memory.  It helps to occasionally review both your and my decision process in that event to better sharpen my understanding of just what exactly it took to make you turn me off.”

“I’m glad you do, Nelly, but at just this moment, I’m wondering how much the masker held the phantom of the death puff still?”

“It was not at all still,” Nelly answered.  “It behaved like one of our ships following a most frantic Evasion Plan 6.  Maybe worse.”

“So, maybe we’re coming at this problem from the wrong direction,” Kris said slowly.  “Maybe we should assume that all the battlecruisers have active maskers.  Maybe we should assume that we don’t want the maskers’ phantoms too close to our decoys.”

“That I could do,” Nelly said.

“Okay, now, Ron, what are the chances that you might have given the masker technology to a fleet of human battlecruisers?” Kris asked her Iteeche associate.

Ron took a long moment to answer.  He spent it swiveling his head to take in his Imperial advisor and the Navy admiral.

NELLY, CAN YOU MAKE OUT ANYTHING FROM WHAT THEY’RE DOING?

SORRY, KRIS, I’VE BEEN RECORDING ALL MY INTERACTIONS WITH RON, BUT I JUST DON’T HAVE ENOUGH BODY LANGUAGE TO MAKE A DICTIONARY FROM IT.  I HAD THE COLORS OF THEIR GILLS DOWN SOLID.  THIS IS A LOT HARDER TO READ.”

THANK YOU, NELLY.

Ron finally turned his head forward to face Kris.  “The rebels know that it is forbidden to allow any human access to maskers or its technology.  We may need your programmers to help us spin the Smart Metal into battlecruisers, but both the Imperials and the rebels are in agreement that those construction workers will not sneak off with any of our embargoed technology.  We know that your Grandfather Alex has offered a huge reward for this tech.  We don’t like paying him for using his patented Smart Metal.  We definitely don’t want him making money off of our technology.”

“I can’t agree with you more on that,” Kris drawled.  She and the Iteeche at least agreed on one thing.

“Still,” Kris said, “the Emperor has called us to his court.  The rebels have to know how important that is.  They say that our ships are not as combat efficient as their ships.  The masker tech has to be a large part of that calculation.  Have you run that through your battle computer?”

“We have had a lot of spare time while your Nelly worked on reproducing the maskers.  So, yes, my admiral did run some battle scenarios.  Our computer would degrade the survival prospects of any ship with a failed masker by at least 36 percent.”

“So, my thirty-two ships count barely as twenty,” Kris noted.

“Yes.  Although I must tell you that your crystal armor, that you have embargoed from us, is not included in the computer’s calculations.”

“Does your admiral think the opposing commander is smart enough to notice that?” Jack asked.

“I do not know,” the admiral said when Ron turned to look his way.  “He is a hot head and a risk taker, or he would not have turned his back on his worship due the Emperor.  Is he imaginative like you, Princess Longknife?  I do not know.  Imagination is not something we look for in our warrior ranks.”

“The day may come when we regret that.” Ron added.  “However, Kris, it is my considered opinion that if a hundred and more ships looking like human battlecruisers jumped into the next system with active maskers, that our rebel commander might very well believe that I had decided that my obligation to bring you before the Emperor had caused me to risk giving you the maskers.  If one is to make a serious and formal apology to the Emperor, one might as well do it after completing one’s mission.”

Ron paused for a moment.  “You must understand, Princess, that I am well known for not following the traditional logic of my people.”

Kris managed to suppress a chuckle, but still smiled.  “In that case, you and I are in the same club.  Most humans have a hard time following my logic as well.”

“It is a very small club,” Ron agreed.

“Then we are agreed,” Kris began.  “All our ships will have eight maskers on them: one to project their own mass for them, the others to project seven masses for the decoys.  The Princess Royal and Ron’s flag will jump through first with three or four extra maskers.  We will then maintain position beside the jump and assure that Nelly projects mass for each decoy as it comes through.”

“What about our seven decoys?” Ron’s admiral asked.

“I will have my chief of staff arrange for each of the ‘squadrons’ to have an extra ship which they will pass off to Ron or me.  By the time the last ship comes through, we should have a full hundred and twenty-eight ships ready to organize ourselves into four task fleets and advance on them at one gee.”

“And with any luck,” Ron said, “they will defecate in their pants and go to a full two gees to get away from us.

KRIS, I HAVE NOT TAUGHT RON THE FOUR-LETTER WORD FOR THAT.

BEST YOU DO NOT, NELLY.  WE DON’T WANT TO TEACH THE ITEECHE ANY BAD HABITS.

“Then let’s make this happen,” Kris said.

Chapter 23

The jump back to the next system didn’t quite go as smoothly as Kris would have wanted.  Two of the maskers failed to spin up as quickly as the rest.  For a fraction of a second, two of the decoys did not have mass.

Hopefully, the rebels did not notice it, or choose to act on the discrepancy.

They did react quickly to the sudden arrival of the two hundred and fifty-six battlecruisers in the system.

The Iteeche rebel commander didn’t bother with a very strong code as he polled his commanders.

“Where did a fleet that size come from? There is only one jump in and out of that system!”

“Yes, sir.  Only one jump.

“This must be a Longknife trick.  You can’t trust your eyes around that human woman,” the commander snapped.

“Respectfully, Oh Honored Admiral, I have read the report of Ron who eats human shit from when he traveled around the galaxy with the human Longknife girl.  He reported that it appeared that they could see jumps where we saw nothing.”

“The human electronic gadgets are good, but not that good,” the commander insisted.

“Please excuse, Oh Honored Admiral, but this may well be true.  With our own ships, we surveyed the system where the Longknife ship fought the evil aliens’ scout.  There were only two jumps into the system.  One led deep into space.  One led to one of our planets.  The Longknife ship did not go to our planet, however.  It immediately made an unbelievably long jump deep into human space.”

“If that report is to be believed,” someone else said.

“We have solid reports that the Longknife ship was so wrecked that it was scrapped where it lay.  It could not have made another jump.”

“So you are telling me that our battle plan has been leaked and Ron who eats human shit and that bottom feeder Longknife have planned an ambush for us as we planned one for them?”

“Are we so sure of our allies?” a new voice joined the discussion.

The answer to that question came quickly, only seconds after the discussion ended.

The closest rebel fleet slammed on the brakes.  The sedate and comfortable one gee deceleration they’d been following jacked up to a more emphatic 2.75 gees within five minutes.   The other fleet changed its course, now decelerating and adjusting its course for the other jump out.

“Nelly, how close will they be to us when they come dead in space?”

“We’ll be a bit less than eight million kilometers apart.  We’ll close in on them as they accelerate away, but both fleets should reach that jump two days before and well ahead of us.”

“So, we have to maintain this charade for six days,” Jack said.  “Nelly, how are the maskers doing?”

“All are working well within the parameters I have set for them.”

“If these do work for the next six days,” Ron put in, “we might as well keep them on until we are ready to jump into the Imperial system.  If you don’t mind, Kris, I would very much like to collect all the maskers from your ships as well as keep the ones on mine.”

“I don’t foresee that giving up that much Smart Metal would be a problem,” Kris said.  “May I ask why?”

Again, Ron had to twist his head like an owl to look at his two main advisors.

KRIS, WHAT I’VE TRACKED FROM RON THIS TIME IS QUITE DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I RECORDED LAST TIME.

GOOD, NELLY.  I HOPE YOU CAN BUILD THAT DATA BASE QUICKLY.  I REALLY MISS THOSE GILL COLORS.

WORKING ON IT.

Moments after Kris and Nelly finished their mental conversation, Ron turned back to Kris.

“Princess Longknife, I and my advisors have decided that it would not be too grave a matter for us to inform you that maskers are difficult to manufacture.  At least, maskers that work.  I will not tell you the failure rate of our production line, I will only say that we were quite amazed that your Nelly was able to construct two hundred and sixty-six systems and have them all work amazingly well.  If we might keep the extra maskers, it would allow my Emperor to build two hundred or more battlecruisers without waiting for maskers to come for them from the factory.”

“Might that gift make it easier for some people to swallow that you allowed us to borrow this technology for even a brief time?” Kris asked.

“It might mean that I do not owe my Emperor an apology, at least not a most formal one.

“Good, then.  Nelly, before you wipe all memory of the maskers and their technology from yourself, please arrange to transport the maskers to the Iteeche ships.”

“I will, Kris.  However, Ron, I will need some time to make a minor modification to the maskers I made.”

“What did you do?” Ron asked.  The tightening of his four eyes was not something that Kris could read very easily.  Someone is concerned.  Very concerned.

“I am operating all the maskers I made,” Nelly explained.  “I did not build these maskers with either controls or instrument read outs for anyone to use for such controls.  I am actively controlling the devices.  I did not want anyone fiddling with my work, or trying to steal it.”

Kris huffed in a failed attempt to suppress a outright laugh.

“I guess she’s telling us where we humans and Iteeche belong,” Jack said, a hand over his mouth to cover what sounded very much like a chuckle.

“I will never understand why any imminent lord would put up with such behavior,” came from the Imperial counselor.  From Ron and the admiral came something that sounded like a strangling cat.

I THINK THAT’S A LAUGH, Nelly reported.

I think it is too.

“I put up with my computer’s eccentricities,” Kris began, in a huff of injured pride, “because she has saved our necks too many times for me to count.  Would you prefer to be in the loving hands of the rebels at this moment, because if she had not done what she did, that is exactly where we all would be.  Can you see that, Imperial counselor?”

The advisor seemed to actually shrink in size, something not so easy for an eight-foot tall Iteeche.

Ron answered for his team member.  “He sees it and offers apologies to Nelly if he has injured her in any way.  And for our Emperor, that can include the respect he is due as well as worship.  Nelly, is your respect uninjured?”

“I assure you, Iteeche Ambassador, nothing said by the ignorant could possibly injure my opinion of myself.  I know what I am due.”

Ron swiveled his head to look hard at the counselor who turned and exited the screen.

“So, Nelly,” Ron began, “I understand that you are to make adjustments to the instruments that you have spun out of Smart Metal and we will collect them on my flagship.”

Ron paused for a moment.  “Nelly, is it possible for you to isolate a portion of your memory?  To store information there that can only be accessed under a codeword issued by a specific voice?  Maybe two code words and two voices.”

“Anything is possible to a computer of my skill,” Nelly answered.

“I am thinking that it has been very beneficial to my Emperor for you to have temporary access to our masker technology.  I am also thinking that it might very well benefit my Emperor if several Iteeche from both the academic and factory guilds were able to converse with you about what you just did.”

“I think that I might enjoy discussing such matters.  As you are likely aware, all of the maskers in your fleet appeared to have been made to different tolerances.  If I were to guess, I would say that they were made by hand.  I might be able to offer some production methods that would allow some of the material to be machined and produced in standard jigs.  I also have some thoughts on how your scientists might test the workings of the device and gain a better understanding of its inner workings.”

On screen, the admiral’s eyes were getting big around.

YES, KRIS, I AM NOTING THE ADMIRAL’S REACTION.  NOW I KNOW WHAT HUNGER AND LUST LOOK LIKE.

NO DOUBT, NELLY.

“However,” Nelly went on, “if I were to follow my previous instructions and wipe this information from my memory and reorganize the matrix it was on, I could not have any such conversations.”

“Princess Longknife,” Ron began formally, “I request that you have your computer maintain the data on her that you formally ordered her to destroy with no chance of recovery.  Would you please do that, then order her to allow me and my admiral to seal that data to our voice command and code words.  I know this may tie up a portion of Nelly’s computational skills, but I believe it will be a move that will create a bridge of mutual trust between our two great people.”

“Nelly, would that be a problem?” Kris asked.

“Oh, my computational skills might be reduced to the point that it took me a millisecond longer to think of a sarcastic comeback,” Nelly said.

Kris looked Ron’s way.  “I think that means that we have injured her pride and she will take it out on both of us.”

“No doubt,” the Iteeche agreed.  Now he had one of his four hands hiding his mouth.

Kris knew a formal order had to be formally revoked.  She and Nelly spent the next few minutes figuring out the precise wording that would tell Nelly to cancel one hard order and accept a second hard order to cover the same information.  It was no sooner done than Nelly reported receiving voice codes from both Ron and the admiral and the data was now under lock and key.

“I know that I am saving information on Iteeche masking technology in that area of my memory, so that I will not examine it or remove it.  It is not something I can access.”

“Nelly, would you please give me the code words the two Iteeche have given you.” Kris said, testing her computer in front of Ron.

“I cannot do that Kris, both because you have ordered me not to and Ron has given me the same order under your order.”

“I wish to countermand that order,” Kris said, pushing farther.

“I cannot allow you to countermand that order.  You have ordered that no one can countermand that order except you with Ron and the admiral working in unison.”

“Ron,” Kris said, glancing at the Iteeche, “would you like to access that information at this time?”

“I don’t think so.  I don’t know how much we are taxing Nelly’s internal locks, but I know that one of our computers would be ready to go into a long series of logic checks as well as system checks and might well stumble into an infinite loop somewhere in there.”

“That would never happen to me,” Nelly said, proudly.

“I am satisfied that we have made a good deal for my Emperor,” Ron said.  “Now, I hope nothing else stands between us and the Imperial court.

“So do I,” Kris said, with a long sigh.

Chapter 24

Emissary Kris Longknife knew that she’d been appointed to an ancient Imperial Court.  She also knew that the Iteeche Empire had colonized three or four timed as many planets as humanity had and that most of those planets were overpopulated, even by Old Earth’s decadent standards.

Still, what she saw even before she got to the Imperial planet put her in awe.

Even as they crossed the second system out from the Imperial system, traffic started getting heavy.  Kris had the Princess Royal’s navigator run a calculation for when they’d reach the next jump point and then do the same for all the traffic in the system.  The ship’s computer took a full five minutes to run the query.  The navigator was shaking her head long before the computer finished displaying the answer.

“Admiral, I’ve never been in any system with this much traffic.  The only time I’ve seen anything close was a fleet review off New Eden to celebrate the two hundred and fiftieth year since its first landing.  That drew major contingents from all human space.  We still didn’t have this many ships in the system and most of them were playing follow the leader behind their admiral’s flag.  What we’ve got here is one whale of a lot of independent two-reactor ships that I’d take for merchants.  Most are accelerating or decelerating at about .81 gees.  There are a few squadrons of battlecruisers, but they’re tied up to a station orbiting the nearest planet to the next jump in.”

The nav board announced it had finished the calculation.  “There are two ships that may arrive close to the time we will get there,” it said, highlighting two single ships.

“Do we need to slow down or speed up?” Kris asked.

“I’d suggest taking .02 gees off our planned burn, ma’am.”

“Comm, order the fleet to prepare to adjust the burn on my order,” Kris said

“Preliminary order given,” Comm answered smartly. “Admiral, I have a call coming in from the Iteeche flag.”

“Put it on screen.”

“Princess Kris Longknife,” Ron said, without preamble, “please cancel your course adjustment.”

“I will Ron, but can you tell me why?”

“Imperial warships always have the right-of-way over merchant ships.  As a diplomat on an Imperial diplomatic mission, I have the right of way over any warships.  I strongly suggest, as an Emissary from your King to His Worshipful Majesty’s Imperial court, that you take the right of way from me.  Majesty must be served.”

“I certainly shall,” Kris said.  “I assume you are asking me to send one of my ships through the next jump to test the situation.”

“Normally, I would recommend that you lead our ships through the jumps personally, however, what with circumstances and what you have already experienced, no doubt your King would insist on sending a squadron or two through the jump before he went himself.”

“I understand, Ron, and appreciate you helping me interpret the Imperial court etiquette that I will be living under for the next five years.”

“It is my honor and duty to do so,” Ron said, and clicked off.

“Admiral,” the navigator announced, “the two Iteeche merchant ships that we were watching have slowed their acceleration to .79 gees.”

Kris nodded at that bit of news.  “Very good, Commander, let me know if there is any change in your board.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

Kris took the elevator from the bridge up to her flag bridge, nodded encouragingly at the duty watch there, and retired to her day quarters.  There she had Nelly make her a comfortable chair, fill the wall screens with schematics of this and the next two systems, and turn down the lights.

Kris slowed her breathing.  That slowed her heart from the few extra beats it had put on as soon as her talk with Ron had alerted her that she was committing a diplomatic faux pas, then it slowed further.  She still wasn’t all that good at meditating, but she accepted matters as a work in progress.

I’m not arrogant.

Of course, she was one of those damn Longknifes, but that didn’t mean she was arrogant.  Her father couldn’t afford the votes he’d lose if his daughter started swinging her weight and arrogance around in public or the media.

Even Grandpa Al had had the good sense to take his arrogance and hide it on the top floor of his tower of insecurity.

I hate arrogant bastards.

So, how am I going to survive being ambassador to an Imperial Court where arrogance is a finely tuned social art and the meek are eaten alive?

Kris had already given certain things some thought.  Or, more correctly, she’d been ordered.  No groveling before the Emperor.  No waiting for permission to stand in his presence.

There was no question about that, but what about those that accompanied her to court?  She intended to have Jack with her.  She’d likely want Jacques and maybe Amanda, as well.

Do I let them grovel?

They would not grovel before their King, and Kris was standing in for her grampa Ray.

Do I set a precedent that no human grovels to the Emperor when I’m present?

If she did, how did she assure that all the other humans got the message and didn’t try this at home where they might get their heads chopped off?

Were there other court officials that demanded groveling?  Could she send some of her merchant princes in to do a bit of groveling before her visit to the Emperor?

Or would them groveling first create expectations that I will also grovel to the big dog himself?

Kris was reminded of her very first mission as a boot ensign.  Chasing some kidnappers, she’d almost landed in a field spiked with land mines.  Was she headed for ground that would make that afternoon look like a walk in the park?

Kris let her mind wander as her eyes took in the layout of the next two systems.  She did her best to not let it snag on anything, just whirl free.

Slowly a thought began to form for her.

You’re going to have to be just as arrogant as the Emperor.

You can do this.  It’s just another tool to add to your toolbox.

Kris had learned to be a lot of things to a lot of different people.  She’d had a hell of a time as a boot ensign, learning how to be a good subordinate.  Okay, a decent subordinate.  Well, maybe an acceptable subordinate.  She’d learned to follow orders . . . mostly.  Sometimes.

Okay, but she had learned early and well to campaign for her father.  To present a smiling face to everyone and not grumble when her schedule was changed forty-eleven times each day.  She’d learned how to somehow get people to want to campaign for father, and even change the way they were doing it when they were more a drag than a help.

And she’d learned the Navy way.  And even followed it.  Usually.

She’d learned to command and to pull the best that people had out of them when they thought they’d given all they had.

Kris was especially proud of what she’d done in the Alwa system.

Those were the best years of my life.

So far.

Kris could learn to be just as arrogant as any Emperor born to it.  And, better yet, Kris could learn to switch the arrogant off and on as the need occurred.  She’d wear arrogant like a well-worn shoe when she needed to be arrogant at some Iteeche lord.  Then she’d use persuasion to get what she needed from her advisors.

And, who knows, I might just find out that arrogant works just as well on some nose-stuck-in-the-air merchant prince as it does on Iteeche nabobs.

A decision arrived at, Kris sat up, had Nelly close down the screens and then asked if there was anyone important asking for her time.  Nelly read down the list.  Kris shook her head.

“Ruth and John are more important than all of those put together.  Set up appointments for the afternoon.  None longer than fifteen minutes, then stack them up in the waiting room off my day quarters and get me a couple of good Gunnies to serve as gate keepers.”

“Done, Kris.”

With a happy smile, Kris went to spend the rest of the morning and lunch with the most important people in her life.

Chapter 25

Matters started getting interesting as they approached the jump into the last system out from the Imperial capital.  Two Imperial battlecruisers detached themselves from the station orbiting the nearest planet and headed for the jump.

“Admiral, they’ll arrive at the jump two minutes before we will,” the flag navigator reported.   “Also, ma’am, I’m getting changes to the deceleration of several merchant ships.  Some have lowered their deceleration and adjusted their course so they will arrive at least ten minutes before us.  Others have put on more deceleration to delay their arrival until ten minutes after we will get there.  Someone is going to great measures to see that we have that jump all to ourselves for a good fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Kris said thoughtfully.  The navigator was right: quite a few merchant ships were burning a lot of reaction mass to give her some serious quality time at that jump.  Kris could just imagine Grampa Al screaming at the waste of good money being blown out into space and trimming his bottom line.  No doubt, some Iteeche merchant princes were fuming, too.

Still, all those ships had changed their course quickly.  Someone had issued an order and it has been obeyed immediately.  Interesting people, these Iteeche.

“Sensors, Comm, did you get any interesting communications between the effected merchant bottoms and the Navy’s station close aboard?”

“No, Admiral,” Comm answered.  “We got message traffic ordering each individual ship to adjust its course in such and such a way, and that was followed by an immediate acknowledgment.”

“No sooner was the message received than the ship adjusted its course,” Sensors added.

Kris shook her head.  She’d once had to shoot out an engine on one of Grampa Al’s ships to get its skipper to follow her orders.  Here the senior issued explicit orders and the junior hopped to it and asked how high on the way up.

Of course, they also have a rebellion going on.

Hmm.

“Comm, get me the four flagships.”

A moment later, Kris was looking at Ron, Commodores Ajax and Afon as well as Captain Tosan.

“I want to make our passage through the next jump smart and quickly done.  The Iteeche have cleared the jump for two minutes before us and ten after.  We’d have to be awful sloppy to take all ten minutes.  Commodores, Captain, how fast can we take our ships through?”

The chief of staff glanced off screen for only a moment.  “We’re in a line by divisions, Admiral.  Fifteen minutes out, we could form back into a single line, first by squadrons, then task forces.  We’ll be pretty slow.  I don’t think we’d have any problem going through the jump at two second intervals.”

“I want a four second interval between divisions,” Kris said.

“No problem, Admiral,” Captain Tosen answered promptly, but Kris had enough time in the Navy to hear the ever so slight question mark wishing the elephant would give the poor worker bee some enlightenment as to what the hell was going on.

“Commodore Afon, I want your task force to lead the way and I want your division to be the first through.  You are to immediately take a snapshot of the space around the jump and flash it back to the last ship in your division the very second it arrives.  It is to load that data on a message rocket and shoot it back through the jump.  Nelly, I want you to grab that message and let me know if there is trouble on the other side.”

“And what if I’m evaporated before I send that message to the Dependable, Admiral?” Commodore Afon asked.

“That message rocket is to be launched immediately by the Dependable as soon as the data can be loaded.  If there is nothing to load, it comes back empty, but it comes back immediately.  That will tell us as much as your message.”

“Understood, I’m to lead the jump myself.  If I find a beasty on the other side, I’m to floss its dentures while sending you a message concerning the new greetings that await Your Highness.  Hopefully, you’ll come through shooting and avenge my vanished corpse.”

“I’ll decide what I’ll do when I need to do it,” Kris answered.  She was tempted to wait on this side of the jump to see who tried to come through.  With luck, the battlecruisers on the Iteeche station would come out to reinforce her.  If her luck was running to its usual norms, no doubt they’d attack her.

Another wonderful day for a Longknife in the Na-a-vy.

Several hours later, Kris was seated in her chair on her fully manned flag bridge as her escorting fleet came up on the two hour mark before the jump.  The battlecruisers were at Condition Charlie, tight, but folks still had room to breathe.  Throughout the fleet, they weren’t quite at battle stations.  Still, anyone with nothing to do was doing it pretty near close to their general quarters; a call to battle stations would only take seconds to answer.  The Sailors knew by now, as well as their officers, that someone didn’t want them fulfilling their mission.

“Sensors, what’s the status of the Imperial battlecruisers tied up to that station?” Kris asked.

“No change, Admiral.  Communications levels holding steady, no sudden spike in chatter.  The reactors are warm, but no one’s preparing to sortie.”

Kris nodded.  The largest collection of firepower underway in this system was under her command.  The battlecruisers around that station could change that in a real hurry.  If they pulled away and headed for the jump, Kris would not only be outnumbered three-to-two, but she would be very close to dead in space.  No question, she would slam her fleet up to combat energy, but she would miss making the jump.

Behind Kris’s battlecruisers came Ron’s two squadrons.  Tailing them ten seconds back came her own merchant ships.  Kris had ordered them to a five second interval.  You could never count on a merchie not to make your day more exciting by doing its best to ram you.

An hour out from the jump, Comm piped up.  “I have a request from Lord Hoff’sum’Seava, Captain of the Defender of the Emperor No. 207.”

“Put it on screen,” Kris ordered.

An Iteeche officer in Navy gray and gold stared out at Kris.  He began speaking in Iteeche, but what came from the screen over his words were, “I have the honor in the name of His Worshipful Majesty to be called by my Lord Commander to pass through the jump you are about to travel and report back to you that all is safe on the other side.  I will,” what followed took a lot of words but came out in Standard as “observe traffic on the other side and send you back a picture of it.”

Kris stood.  “We are grateful to your Honored Emperor, your Lord Commander and you for your service to our Royal Majesty,” Kris said.  The precise order of gratefulness had been an important point Ron had lectured Kris on.  From the look of the Iteeche captain, her words appeared to have passed muster.

Once that communication was finished, Kris found herself on the receiving end of a call from Commodore Afon.  “Do you still want me to follow the drill we worked out?”

“Of course, Commodore, I’m a belt and suspenders kind of gal,” Kris said with an encouraging smile.

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” and Afon clicked off.

“Has my eager tiger changed her stripes?” Jack muttered, hand over his mouth.

“Even a Longknife can learn if you rub her face in it often enough.”

They continued to close on the jump.

The Defender of the Emperor No. 207 went through the jump two minutes ahead of Afon.  Thirty seconds later the jump buoy popped back into space and broadcast a snapshot of the area a million kilometers around the jump.  There was nothing closer than the stream of merchant ships that had gone for the last four minutes ahead of the Iteeche battlecruiser.  There was a long line of merchant ships approaching the jump, but none would arrive in the next twenty minutes.

Kris whistled softly.  Controlling this jump’s traffic must take a whole lot of computer sweat and obedience to orders.

MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY, Nelly added.

Kris now ordered her battlecruisers to Condition Zed and beat all hands to battle stations.  A minute later, all her battlecruisers reported ready for action.  Interesting enough, Ron’s battlecruisers were still at Condition Baker, and had been since the last jump.  Still, Kris stayed attentive to everything.  The jump ahead.  The traffic behind.  The battlecruisers at the nearby station.

Nothing appeared threatening.

It looked peaceful and continued peaceful.

But how often has ‘looking peaceful’ gone to hell in a blink?

Afon’s flagship went through the jump.  Six seconds later, the Dependable followed it through.  Less than a second later, a message rocket shot back through the jump.  Kris sat forward in her chair as the screens before her filled with the data from the messenger.

Then she let out a sigh of relief.

Afon’s rocket carried a scan of the area five million klicks around the jump.  It showed the same merchant ships headed for the jump and Defender of the Emperor No. 207 as well as those headed away that Kris’s navigator identified as ones they’d tracked before their jump out of this system.

Of warships, there were only the two Iteeche and four human battlecruisers.

Kris leaned back and watched placidly as the next twelve battlecruisers of Task Force 2 made their jump, then waited as the Princess Royal led Task Force 1 through.  Once through the jump, her screens quickly filled with data showing the entire system.

Beside her, Jack whistled softly.  “Talk about a traffic control challenge.”

Kris nodded before whispering, “Yes.”

There were six jumps into and out of the system.  Only one of them led toward the Imperial system and traffic was streaming toward it from the other five jumps.  Each of the inbound jumps had a huge space station hanging in space a couple of million klicks from it, and from them came the emissions of several battle fleets along with plenty of honking big laser cannons.  The jump into the Imperial system had three of the biggest stations Kris had ever seen, each with its own battle fleet.

Kris gulped as she took it all in.

“I think they want to keep the Emperor safe,” she muttered.

“Ya’think it?” Jack said.

Kris very much wished she had more ships.  For someone charged with representing all humanity, she very much felt like a mouse that had wandered into a cage full of hungry lions and tigers.  She’d already run into the bears not so long ago.

Hopefully, one Royal Princess was not on the dinner menu.

Chapter 26

The trip across the system to the jump into the Imperial system was challenging for the navigator and bridge crew as they struggled to keep station.  One of the fortresses guarding the Emperor’s jump had the job of traffic control.  Kris’s ships were given an allotted time to make the jump.  Every ship was expected to go through at 2.32 second intervals and at a steady speed of five hundred and twelve klicks per hour.

Apparently, the Iteeche did things by the Imperial planet’s day and measurements.

Kris assigned the flags the duty of keeping their task force and squadron’s ships on the dime and tucked in tight.  For the merchant skippers, her words were simple.  “Miss your allotted time and you will be required to go around and wait for a break in the traffic to get another chance.  I’m told those come along every couple of weeks.  And don’t even think about jumping through after you’re waved off.  We’ve got our time assigned to us.  There will be oncoming traffic right ahead of us and right behind us.  Get out of line and you’ll likely end up a splat on the bow of some huge Iteeche ship.”

There was grumbling on the merchant comm channels, but not a lot.  Not after the first bit of grousing was greeted with “Don’t you dare muck it up for the rest of us,” from one of Grampa Al’s skippers, echoed by most of the other captains.

As Kris’s escort sailed its meticulous way to the jump, her sensor teams sucked in everything they could get their antennas on and turned it over for analysis.

“Kris, every ship in this system has a squawker, identifying its name, owner and planet of origin,” Sensors reported.  “Most have added the last planet visited and where they’re headed.  Apparently, there are nine destinations in the next system, only one of which is the Imperial Presence.  The other names mean nothing to Nelly’s dictionary.  I can’t tell if they’re planets, moons, habitats, stations or whatever, but there are a whole lot of ships headed for every one of them.”

“Any military traffic?” Jack asked.  “Does it show a single destination?”

“There are a couple of dozen battlecruisers, none in a bigger formation than a division of four.  None of them are squawking a destination.  There are several huge honking spheres in the traditional Iteeche fashion powered by a dozen reactors or more.  The biggest has eighteen reactors in six pods around the ball.  I can get very little off of it.  Believe it or not, that thing is actually jamming everyone.  It and the other big balls seem to have right of way over everyone.  They’re accelerating and decelerating at 1.21 gees for a faster trip.”

“Do they have right of way over us?” Kris asked.

“I don’t know, Admiral.  None of them are due at the jump anytime close to us.”

“Track them.  I want to know when they go through.  Once we’re on the other side, I want to know how they’re treated.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

Jack raised two questioning eyebrows at Kris.

“I want to know how the local head high muckety mucks behave in the Imperial system.  Then I’m going to do exactly what they do.”

“Any chance I can talk you into discussing it with Ron?  I mean, before you get us all a meeting with the Imperial headsman.”

“I think it’s an Imperial poisoner, but I agree with you, whomever it is.  Comm, get me the Iteeche flag.”

A moment later, Kris was face to face with Ron again.

“How’s it feel to be getting this close again to your Emperor?”

“I think you would call it claustrophobic.  It is so nice to visit among you humans.  You are so informal.  Few Iteeche that I have talked about you with could understand how you could do things the way you do.  A few even think you are wild savages, out of control.  But you did not call me to talk about all that.  What can I do for you?”

“We’ve identified some really huge puff ball ships.  One has something like eighteen reactors in six pods.  Should I know anything about them?”

“Oh, yes you should.  Steer clear of them if you can.  Those are both battleships and what you would call Imperial yachts.”

“How many yachts does your Emperor use?” Kris asked.

“His worshipfulness?  None, of course.  He doesn’t go anywhere.  Everyone comes to him.”

Kris allowed herself a puzzled frown.  “So, what are these ships?”

“The largest one is likely being used by an Imperial Master of a Satrap.  All ships are by right the ship of the Emperor, but the Imperial Master of a Satrap, or a district of planets, is authorized to build himself a battleship of state.  Our name for them is more like your Greek warship.  We had three reactors each in six pods, a tri-hexareme.  Even though your battlecruisers are better fighting ships, many Imperial Masters still like the old ways and even now build bi-hexaremes.  Many of the greater lords lavish money trying to have the most opulent tri-hexareme.”

“We’ll have to show people how fancy a battlecruiser can be decked out.”

“Yes, I heard that you’ve done some pretty luxurious things with your Princess Royal.  Will we be seeing anything like that?”

“Once we reach the station above the Imperial Palace, I assure you, we’ll lay it on as thick as we can.”

“I’m looking forward to it.  Have I answered your questions, Your Highness?”

“Yes, thank you, as always, Ron.  Or should I start calling you by your full name?”

“When you have Nelly translating matters into Iteeche, please have her use my full name.  I am Ron’sum’Pin’sum’We qu Chap’sum’We, if you will, Nelly.”

“Of course, Speaker for His Worshipfulness,” Nelly said.

“May I suggest that Nelly introduce you, Kris, as Her Highness, Princess Kristine of the United Society, Chosen Royal Battle Fleet Commander of the mighty war clan Longknife who comes as Emissary and Speaker for Humanity.”

“Wow, that’s quite a mouthful,” Jack put in.

“Yes, but it is a mouthful that explains her to all who hear.  Among my people, it is important to make a first impression.”

Kris parsed the words.  Most of them she could fit into comfortable.  Princess, okay, I’m over that.  “Royal Battle Commander” fits into King Ray’s comments that I’m the fightingest admiral he has. Chosen, however, may be more than I’m hearing.  Longknife, okay, been there, done that.  I’m proudly one of those damn Longknifes.  It was the last that stuck her as a sour note.  “Emissary and Speaker for Humanity.”  Emissary, yes, I got that loud and clear from King Ray.  “Speaker for All Humanity.” Where did that come from?

Kris shook her head.  Had anyone on old Earth sent her papers to talk for them?  Hell, most of humanity was splintered into a couple of dozen or more associations, confederacies, Empires and what not. How many of them had said she could speak for them?  Hell, she’d gotten in all sorts of trouble when she protected Alwa the first time and every fourth planet accused her of starting a war without permission.

What kind of ninth pit of hell did that crawl out of.  Better yet, how did she bonk it over the head and get it to crawl back where it came from.

NELLY, HAS RON CUT THE COMM BETWEEN US?

YES, KRIS.

“Jack, Nelly, get Amanda and Jacques to report to my day quarters immediately.  I don’t like this hot potato one bit.  I need a potato masher and I need one quick.”

Chapter 27

A few minutes later, the table in Kris’s day quarters was rapidly filling up.  In addition to those Kris had asked for, Nelly had added Senior Chief Agent Foile and Lieutenant Megan Longknife.  Both slipped in quietly and tried to take a seat against the bulkhead.  Kris pointed both of them at the main table.

SO, IS THAT WHY THE TABLE WAS SO BIG, NELLY?

YES, KRIS.  DID I MAKE A MISTAKE?

NOPE.  I’M GOING TO BE NEEDING THEM MORE AND MORE.

Kris began without preamble.  “I seem to have stumbled upon another little minefield.  I don’t know whether or not Grampa Ray knew about it or not.  I’d like to hope it would be a surprise for him, too. Nelly, play back what Ron just told me.”

In a moment, the Iteeche was on the main screen.  Nelly cut directly to the relevant part.

“May I suggest that Nelly introduce you, Kris, as Her Highness, Princess Kristine of the United Society, Chosen Royal Battle Fleet Commander of the mighty war clan Longknife who comes as Emissary and Speaker for Humanity.”

Kris let that sink in for a moment before opening the discussion.  “I think we can ignore most of that for now.  It’s the ‘Emissary and Speaker for Humanity’ that got my attention at the get go.”

Jacques frowned at Kris’s point.  “What exactly are your orders?  I know what we all thought we were here for, but what did the king officially say?”

“That is suddenly very interesting,” Kris said.  “In a safe, I have King Raymond’s official introduction for me to the Emperor.  It’s in a gorgeous cherry wood box, sealed with several fancy silver and gold seals and has an engraved golden scroll in the lid.  It says all the nice things about their Emperor and our King, tactfully skipping the claim that he is the Disemboweler of Humans and Ray is the Hammerer of Iteeche.  I had always assumed that what was inside it said the exact same thing as I read in my formal orders.

“And those are?” Amanda asked.

“Nelly, call up the pertinent part of my official orders.”

Beside the written version of Ron’s suggested title for Kris now appeared her formal instructions.

“You will function as my Royal Emissary in all ways, establishing an Embassy to the Imperial Court and representing us in all factors, diplomatic, economic, political and military.  You are empowered to negotiate treaties and agreements that will be submitted to the appropriate bodies for ratification.”

Kris walked over to the screen and ran her hand along the words.  “I had thought the ‘appropriate bodies,’ that would be ratifying my treaties was the Congress of the United Society.  Now, was that intentionally left vague to blind-side me or did someone blind-side Ray?”

“Gee,” Jack said, a sardonic smile on his lips, “six, seven years ago, they were all upset that you had gone off on your own and started a war with the alien raiders.  Now they’re giving you power to negotiate for all humanity.  My, what a few years on staff will do to gentle a gal’s reputation.”

“Gentle is not a word I’ve ever heard applied to me,” Kris said, throwing Jack a scowl that curled up too much around the edges.

“I know that,” Jack quickly said, “but does the rest of humanity?”

“It appears that they are about to find out,” Kris said.

“There is a third option, or possibility,’ Jacques said.  Immediately, he had Kris’s attention.  “The Iteeche asked for you by name, right?”

“Yes,” Kris said.

“Is it possible that they intended to treat you as a single point for all human contact and negotiations?  Do we know what’s going on over on Ron’s flagship?  Could he have negotiated in good faith and only now is discovering that he, himself, was cut out of some really byzantine goings-on at court?”

Kris considered that for a moment, then scowled.  “They’ve got this little civil war they failed to mention.  They’ve gone out of their way to keep us in the dark about that.  Yeah, Jacques, I could see some corkscrew minds thinking that if they could get me to bargain for all humans, the rest of humanity would just have to follow me.  Or Ray.  Could they really misunderstand we humans that badly?”

That left everyone mulling their situation for a bit.

“The semantic questions bother me.  Are we sure Ron meant something so loaded?” Amanda asked.  “Could it be that Ron just does not understand how loaded what he just said is?  Nelly?”

“I have been doing a very careful search of my linguistic data since this issue came up less than a half hour ago.  I’ve also reviewed all the special requests for language that came in while Ron was meeting privately with the King.”

“They made special requests of you?” Kris asked.

“Not of me but rather of my data.  They also managed to put those requests under lock until we left Wardhaven.  I didn’t think to review them until now.  The recommended title for you was the subject of several questions.  I seem to have answered the questions, then placed the questions under Royal seal.”

“Then you didn’t know, Nelly, what the result was.”

“No, Kris.  I didn’t know, but if I’d accessed the queries sooner, I might have seen this coming.”

“Then again, without any context or the final product, you might not have,” Kris pointed out.

“It is embarrassing to have allowed a human to get around me in that way.  Your Grampa Ray is one sneaky bastard,” Nelly said, not sounding at all happy to have been outmaneuvered by a mere human.

“Or Ron could have been jobbing him, too, Nelly,” Kris said.  She remembered looking into her grampa’s eyes as he told her and Jack just how much he didn’t know about this mission he was sending Kris on.  She had trusted him then.  For now, she would continue to trust him.

But he had a strike on him.  One strike.

She took a deep breath to rally her thoughts, then went on.  “So, what have we got so far? Kris said.

“A civil war no one mentioned,” Jack tossed in.

“An embassy that may represent not just United Society and those other alliances that sent along representatives, but possibly more,” Jacques said.

“How much more?” Amanda asked.

“I know I’ve got five deputy ambassadors with me.  Nelly, send to the Earth merchant ship and those others from alliances outside the five diplomatic spheres we have representatives from.  Ask them if they are carrying any diplomatic missions.”

“I’m doing so, now, Kris.  Wait one.”

Around Kris, the table fell silent.  On the wall, an old-fashioned clock appeared and began ticking off the seconds.  Kris found herself relaxing as she measured her breath by those ticks.  Maybe she could learn to relax.

“Kris, the Earth ship reports that it carries an Ambassadorial level official with orders to join you upon your request.”

“Any more?”

“Answers are coming in.  Kris, I have six more ambassador level representatives.  They are all under orders to wait to present themselves to you until you asked for them.  Ah, one point, Kris.  These twelve ambassadors represent over five hundred of the six hundred plus planets in human space.  The remaining hundred are small, usually still in their start-up stage and dependent on a major planet for finances and development.”

“Hmm.  So, we’ve got the whole enchilada here and Grampa Ray either played me, or four other planetary associations played the both of us?” Kris grumbled.

Agent Foile, who’d been silent so far, cleared his throat.  “I seem to recall that both the King and our Prime Minister did not broadcast the invitation for ambassadors very far and wide.

They may have thought there was too little time.  They may have only wanted to pick from among the people they knew and thought were highly skilled and professional.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that those who were not invited to the table back at Wardhaven appear to have dealt themselves into the game.  It’s familiar bureaucratic behavior to those of us who have spent out lives in a bureaucracy.  Show up for a meeting whether you’re invited or not,” he said, with a shrug.

“Does any of this really matter?” Jack answered, then raised both hands in his defense when Kris made to round on him, fists only just missing.

“I wanted.  No, I want to think that I’ve gotten smarter,” she said, settling back in her chair.  “I swore to myself that I wouldn’t be led down the garden path.  Again. Yet here I am. Again.  I’m within a stone’s throw of the Imperial Palace and just now discovering my diplomatic mission is double its size and covers most of human space.”

“My lovely wife, I think you were really tired of all the bureaucratic in fighting in Main Navy.  Here was an important job.  One with a whole lot hanging on its success.  Of course you jumped at it before we finished looking as thoroughly as we might have if some people weren’t throwing up smoke screens to make sure we didn’t see what they didn’t want us to see.”

“So it would appear,” Kris agreed.  “Ron asked so nicely for me.  This new job would get me free of all the back-stabbing at Main Navy.  And it was so new.  All sparkly and exciting and never done before.  So I took it; hook, line, and sinker.  When Ron disappeared for his little trip to all the Iteeche enclaves I should have smelled a rat.”

“Your Highness,” said Jacques, sounding very deferential.  “I don’t think you should be too hard on yourself.  The Iteeche clearly did not come at this with open palms.  The selection of the ambassadors we included was not a transparent process. Clearly those that were left out have gone to great lengths to weasel their way into your embassy.  Based on several thousand years of human history, I can’t say I’m surprised.  If they hadn’t done something like this, I’d be shocked.”

Kris nodded, then said, dryly, “Thanks, Jacques.  It’s nice to be told a Longknife can make human mistakes.”

That got a laugh from those around the table.

“You want to turn around?” Jack asked.

“You know I’m not going to do that,” Kris spat.

“I just thought you might want to get that out on the table for a quick look-see.”

“We’re not going back.  Grampa Ray is definitely right about one thing.  If the Iteeche Emperor asks him for help with his little civil war, of course His Majesty would grant it.  If the Emperor in his need was willing to offer to open up the Empire to full diplomatic and trade relationships with Humanity, you bet he’d jump at it.

Kris looked around the table at her key staff.  “For the last hundred years, we humans and the Iteeche have managed to ignore each other.  But any thinking person knows that sooner or later bad was going to come of this wall we built between us.  Sooner or later, some lieutenant or captain was going to screw up and we were going to be at each other’s throats.  The wall has got to come down and we have to work together.  Enough chipping a hole here, another one there.  Let’s start treating each other like civilized people.”

Kris paused to slam her fist on the table.  “So, of course, I jumped at this job.”

“And, of course, the king did, too.  The Iteeche Emperor asked for the right woman for the job and he went along with it,” Jack pointed out.  “Who but you could sort out this bucket of snakes?”

Kris looked up at Jack.  “You think I can?”

“Who better, my beloved admiral?  Who better?”

Again, Kris took a deep breath.  Her grandfather may have manipulated her younger self into bad, worse, and worst assignments, but she’d learned from every one of them.  Now, no matter who was gaming whom, she was facing the biggest and baddest challenge of them all.

She found she had to chuckle.  She was actually looking forward to getting her teeth into this whole mess.  If she was honest with herself, she’d been missing the excitement of the new and awful.

“Nelly, send to the newfound ambassadors.  Tell them to transmit their credentials to me by 0800 hours tomorrow.  We will have a diplomatic reception aboard my flag as soon as we dock on the Imperial planet.  Senior Special Agent Foile, will you do whatever background checks you can on these new additions to our great enterprise?  I don’t expect any of them have known vendettas against anyone here, but I’d like to know who to steer clear of if I must.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the head of her Secret Service detail answered.

“Lieutenant Longknife, you will, no doubt, enjoy taking care of all the technicalities with the Forward Lounge.”

“Yes, ma’am,” had far too much enthusiasm behind it.

She’ll learn.  Oh yes, she will learn.  She’s a Longknife.  They all learn.  Or die.

Chapter 28

Kris spent the rest of the afternoon meditating on all that had been dropped on her.  She was sure that her advisors had offered her the best they had, but was that all the advice she had available?

“Nelly, give Grampa and Gramma Trouble my most sincere compliments and ask them if they might drop by my day quarters at their earliest convenience.”

“I’ve asked.  They are playing with the kids, but they’ll be here as soon as they can pry John off Trouble’s leg.”

“Trouble’s leg?”

“They were rough housing.  Several of the four year olds were attacking the monster and doing their best to drag him down.  I suspect they may win a bit faster than they normally do.”

Kris could only shake her head.  Shake her head, and feel deep in her heart a sense of loss.  She should be the one playing the monster while their nannies tried to exhaust the children’s energy before supper.

“Nelly, set me up a comfortable conversation group.”  A small coffee table with two comfortable chairs and a couch appeared in one corner of Kris’s expanded day quarters, taking space from her night quarters.  On the table, a pot of tea stood with several choice teas to choose from.

Kris went back to her ruminations, examining the sensor take for the last two hours.  It was huge.  Even Nelly and her kids, controlling a massive server farm were having trouble figuring out what was worth extracting and what was minor communications of no import.

Fifteen minutes after Kris’s request, her great-grandfather and great-grandmother knocked respectfully.  “Enter,” Kris said.

In theory, her five stars outranked Trouble’s four stars, but there was no way Kris would consider herself anything but outranked by these two.  She stood and went to greet them.

“You having a ball with the kids?” she asked as Gramma Ruth engulfed her in a hug.

“Oh, I’d forgotten what fun a dozen four-year-olds could be.  A barrel of monkeys has nothing on these tykes.”

Kris went from one hug to the next from Grampa Trouble.  Greetings done, she offered them seats.  The elder couple took the couch together.  Grampa took the seat closest to one of the chairs and that was the one Kris settled in.  She offered them tea.  The water was still hot.  They poured for themselves and then sat back to quietly steep their tea.

“You have a problem, Kitten?” Ruth finally asked.

Kris, the grand admiral smiled at Ruth’s use of the endearment she’d given Kris harkening back to a younger, more innocent self.  Still, her problem today was all grownup.  Grownup and big, mean and nasty.

“I need your opinion on Grampa Ray,” Kris said.

“What’s he done this time?” Gramma Ruth drawled.

“I’m not sure.  That’s why I want to talk to you.  You know him best.”

“If any one does,” Ruth shot back.

Kris nodded.  “I suspect you’ve heard about the little civil war we’ve sailed into.”

“Kind of hard to avoid it,” Grampa Trouble rumbled.

“Very little misses your Grampa Trouble,” Ruth said.  “Lots of people want to say they’ve talked to the great general, and he gets them talking and then pumps them for all they’ve got.”

“Hey, what can I say?  I’m good at gathering intelligence,” the old general said in his own defense.  But he was smiling proudly while he said it.

“Okay, do you think Ray knew about this little unpleasantness we’re sailing into?” Kris asked.

The two elder warriors extraordinaire glanced at each other.  Ruth leaned back into the couch as Trouble leaned forward.  “That’s something we’ve been thinking about, Kris.  I hope you know that we would have told you about this war if we’d known about it.”

“I know you would have.  Ray? I’m not so sure about.”

Now Trouble leaned back, and it was Ruth’s turn to lean forward.  The couple did it as if they had their own special Nelly Net to talk on.  “You know I don’t have a whole lot of respect for that rascal Ray,” Ruth said.

Kris knew about Ruth’s attitude toward their fellow Iteeche War commander and longtime friend.  Great grandmother Trouble had never shared with Kris where this attitude sprang from, but she knew Ruth was sour on Ray.

Ruth took a deep breath and shook her head as she continued.  “Neither Trouble nor I picked up anything in our grapevine about civil war among the Iteeche.  The appearance of that rebel fleet was just as much a surprise for us as it was for you.  If we’d known, you can bet you’d have a larger escort or Trouble and I would have picketed that old bastard’s palace.  Us and a whole lot of our friends.”

Kris found herself chuckling despite the seriousness of their discussion.  The mental image of these old war horses carrying picket signs, along with a whole lot of their friends, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren with greater grandkids in strollers would have been something to see.

“Okay, for the moment, let’s assume we were all blindsided by Iteeche politics.  I’ve got a second question.  I’ve just gotten a name for myself from Ron, whom I thought was my Iteeche buddy.  It seems I’m both emissary and speaker for humanity.”

“Not the Royal US?” Grampa Trouble asked, his face a serious frown.

“Nope, humanity.  Oh, and I’ve discovered that I’ve got six or seven more ambassadors in my fleet, including one from Earth and the rump Society for Humanity.”

Now both elders leaned back into the couch, looking very thoughtful.

“My question to you is could Ray have warned me, or even known that I was headed for a much bigger job and not bothered to tell me?”

Now it was Ruth’s turn to chuckle.  “You talk about mission creep.”

Trouble snorted at that.  “It ain’t got any better since our time, has it, honey?”

Both shook their heads at that.

It was Ruth who leaned forward first.  “If you are asking me if that old SOB might have known about all the extra work he was slapping on you and not bothered to mention it to you, the answer is yes.  He’s just the type to do that.  But the question I think you really want us to answer is did he do that to you?”

“Yes.  I’m to stand in his stead at the Imperial Iteeche Court.  Will I be doing it while mad as hell at him for doing this to me?”

The two stared at each other for a long moment.  Again, Kris had the impression that they were talking on their own private Nelly Net.

Finally, Ruth shook her head.  “I still have contacts in the Foreign Service,” she said.  “I heard nothing about this mission being for all humanity.  If anything, the folks I talked to were almost giddy, and I’d never seen them giddy before, about this coming to the US and them getting to set the tone for the rest of humanity.”

“I agree,” Trouble said, now taking over from his wife.  “There are people in the palace that will still talk to me.  Everything I picked up was that Ray was kind of tickled that the Iteeche were asking for you, a Longknife.  He also was doing everything within his power to help you succeed.  Most people don’t know it, but Ray doesn’t have much actual power.  He can ask, suggest, recommend, but most of the real power is with the planets.  Wardhaven may have given you the US ambassador, but a whole lot of the other one hundred and seventy-three planets have people in the delegation.  Everything I heard was that Ray was doing everything he could to make sure you got good people.  That you wouldn’t have to waste a lot of time mediating between your own people.”

Kris nodded. “And doing that, he may have not had a lot of spare time to worry about what was going on outside his sovereignty.  So, you think he’d be just as surprised as I was to find a whole lot of ambassadors waiting for me to discover them and ask for their papers?”

“You have gotten to know him almost as well as we have,” Ruth said.  “You know this could be him, but it likely isn’t.  Say 60-40 or 70-30.”

Again, Kris nodded.  “I think I agree with you.  Do you have any suggestions what I should do with them?  All of them, not just the new ones but the five I’m supposed to have?”

“If you spaced the lot of them, the neighbors would likely talk,” Trouble said, with an impish grin.  “As much fun as that might be, it’s not something you can get away with.  And there would be all the mess.  So, I guess you’re just going to have to wade through them and get the job done.  Do it for good old Wardhaven and all the little kids that don’t have a choice in the messes we adults get them into.”

Kris chuckled.  This was one of the reasons she loved her Grampa Trouble . . . when he wasn’t causing her a lot of trouble.  He could make her laugh at the absurdity of life.

With all the heavy stuff out of the way, she shared some time with her great-grandparents.  They talked of children and the fun they were having.  To the kids, this was just one great adventure.  Spaceships were cool, and all the attention they were getting from grownups was just tickling them funny.  Kris found herself regretting that she couldn’t spend a lot of time with her two, but she was very glad that her two most wonderful ancestors had hitched a ride with her and them.

With any luck, it would all turn out fine.

Of course, it was up to Kris to create that luck.

Chapter 29

Three days later, Grand Admiral, Her Royal Highness Kristine Longknife struggled to keep her mouth shut.

Around her, staff watched from her flag bridge as her escort fleet made its approach to the Imperial planet.  Beside her, Jacques and Amanda failed to keep their disinterested cool; their mouths hung open in awe and dismay.

“I would never have believed,” Amanda whispered, “that a planet could support a civilization this over-grown.  The population must be huge.  Nelly, are you sure all those lights on the night side are cities?”

“The planet is split fifty-fifty, water and land,” Nelly responded.  “I believe a significant amount of the water has been used up or expended as fuel.  The expanded continents below us are approximately 45% urban.  Cultivated land accounts for another 45%.  The rest are mountains and arctic wastes.”

“What happened to the deserts?” Jacques asked.  “Deserts, grasslands.  That has to be land that is worthless.”

Nelly actually chuckled.  “As John Junior, will point out to you, the poop has to go somewhere.  When you’ve been civilized for ten thousand years or more, that’s a lot of fertilizer to dispose of.”

“I thought that ‘Ten Thousand Years’ was a myth,” Jacques said.  “A boast.  I begin to believe it just might be possible.”

“Even with the oceans in retreat, they have colonized the waters,” Nelly said.  “I can verify that habitats cover about a quarter of the sea area.  Some are cities, others are things like fish farms, all in the coastal shallows.  Further out in deeper water, I have identified activities on the bottom of the ocean.  Much of the equatorial and temperate zones on the continents are fully utilized for crops as well as some of the more spectacular urban areas.  Farther north and south you find rather monotonous urban zones.  I suspect that is where the workers live.”

“And we beat these people in the Iteeche war,” Jack whispered softly.

“Say, instead, that ‘We both grew sick of the horrible waste, and exhausted by the war effort’,” Kris said, quoting her Grampa Trouble.

“I wonder how many planets they have like this?” Amanda asked.

“Aren’t you the economist?” Jacques, her anthropologist husband asked.  “Can a planet this huge make any economic contribution to an Empire?  Can it even feed and make what it needs to exist?”

“A good question,” Amanda answered.  “If its value added is good governance that allows the other planets to produce more efficiently, then yes, it makes sense, economically, to have all the government here.”

“I have stumbled across a fact,” Nelly said.  “They claim they produce so much fecal matter that they ship it off planet to others that need the fertilizer.  Is that economically feasible?”

“If they’re shipping exotic foodstuffs to the planet, they’d have to do something with the additional sewage that goes down the drain,” Amanda said.

“And what would happen to a place like this,” Kris whispered softly, “if the wheels came off the wagon?  What would happen if there was no more Empire to feed it?”

“Mass starvation,” Amanda answered.

“Rioting, total collapse, mass slaughter and finally, cannibalism,” Jacques added.

“How badly must the civil war be going that an Emperor faced with this at his doorstep has called for a human, and even worse, a Longknife, to lend him a hand?” Jack asked.

“And him having four already,” Jacques quipped.

Kris’s sigh might have outweighed a battlecruiser.

I’ve fought massive alien base ships to keep them from lazing planets from space.  Billions would have died under their fire.  Now all I have to do is persuade a bunch of Iteeche that they want to make nice and not destroy the roots of their own civilization.

A piece of cake.

Yeah, right.

The space station they approached was weird beyond belief.  Kris chuckled.  Alien.

Like a human station, it perched atop a space elevator that went down and a counterweight that went up.  Beyond that, Kris had never seen anything quite like it.

Every human station that Kris had ever seen had been a rotating can.  The A Deck was the outer hull of the station and piers projected from the A Deck for ships to dock to.  It had always seemed perfectly reasonable to Kris.

Trust an alien to do it different.

What she now studied was an impossible arrangement.  However, as the Princess Royal changed her angle of approach, so did Kris’s perspective.  Seen from a three quarters view, it all fell into place.

Sort of.

At the top of the bean stalk, was a central spindle.  It had to be at least a hundred kilometers long.  Strung along that spindle were nine . . . snowflakes.

Each one of the structures spreading out perpendicular to the spindle was a unique creation.  They had five, six, seven and even eight spines pointing out from the spindle, and each one of those spines had various spars reaching out at ninety degree angles.  From the distance, Kris was viewing it from, each of the spars seemed to have hair on them.

“Magnify,” Kris said and Nelly quickly did.

The station jumped at Kris and filled the screen.  The “hair” became piers with ships docked to them.  Lots of ships attached to lots of piers.

“The cross-bar things,” Lieutenant Longknife said, “It looks like they must form the equivalent of our decks,” she said slowly.

“Each of the decks would have different gravity,” Kris muttered.

“Want to bet that we’re directed at one of the middle ones?” Jack said.

“No bet,” Kris answered.  “It must be harsh on those docked close in or far out.  Little gravity or heavy gravity, take your pick.”

“Maybe not,” Amanda said.  “Maybe they have people born on planets with lighter or heavier gravity and they like the different berths.  Plus, bulky things like machinery and food would be easier to handle in light gravity.  And as we all know, shit flows downhill.  I bet you the extra weight at the end of the pipes creates a vacuum that sucks the sewage right along without too much pumping.”

“Could they be shipping that much sewage off world?” Jacques asked.

“Hard to tell,” Amanda answered.  “All the Iteeche merchant ships still look like puff balls to me.  Maybe they ship the steerage customers off planet from those high gravity piers.

“In boats that are totally steerage, or partially loaded with sewage,” Kris concluded with a sour scowl.  “Stinky ride.”

“Kris,” Nelly put in, “I’ve done the numbers on this and it seems to me that this planet might be supporting a population somewhere between a hundred and a hundred-fifty billion.  Maybe more.  I don’t know how to factor in the urban areas in the shallow coastal seas.”

That got a low whistle from the people around Kris.

“Hold it,” Meg Longknife said, looking very puzzled.  “I know we have a high birthrate on Santa Maria.  When I left we’d just dropped our birthrate to three percent.  Even if they’ve only got theirs down to one percent, that would mean a billion live births a year!  Wouldn’t it?  Nelly, did I get the numbers wrong?

“You have them right.  If their birth rate is anything like that, and their death rate doesn’t do something to balance matters better, they would need to ship a whole lot of people off planet every year.”

“But would they, Nelly?” Kris said.  “They may spawn lots and lots of tadpoles, but how many get “chosen” from the breeding pools and allowed to mature into adults.  Ron is very proud of his Chooser.  Maybe they don’t choose any more than they need to maintain the population at a desired level?”

“But they chose to let their planet become this populated,” Amanda said, pointedly.

As one, they all turned toward the screen.  Nelly replaced the space station with a view of the dark side of the planet.  Close to half of it was lit up like a yule tree.

Amanda shook her head.  “We need more information on the Iteeche.  The more I see of this place, the more questions I have, and I’m not getting any answers”

“Maybe there was a reason they didn’t want humans wandering into their Empire,” Kris said thoughtfully.

“A very good reason,” Jack added.

Chapter 30

Once Kris’s fleet docked, matters went quickly . . . and slowly . . . all at the same time.

Kris had issued orders for the crew and passengers on her battlecruisers as well as merchant ships to stay aboard until arrangements could be made and all issues resolved with their hosts.  So, of course, the merchant ships emptied out like a rock concert gone quiet.

Only to be brought by to a roaring halt at the end of the dock arm by armed Iteeche guards.  Heavily armed Iteeche guards: rifles and long swords backed up with others holding long pointed spears.

Kris set a battalion of Royal US Marines hustling down the dock to herd the wayward merchants and curious sailors back to their fancy liners and merchant ships.  They went, complaining loudly.

A quick call to Ron verified what Kris expected.  Until Kris had been presented to His Worshipful Emperor, no one went anywhere.  “I have been informed that a very large and well apportioned palace has been set aside for your use, as well as spacious quarters for the merchants in your entourage,” Ron told her.

“My merchants will want to meet with your merchants,” Kris pointed out.

“They will.  They will, in due time.  First, though, you must present yourself to the Emperor and be recognized.”

KRIS, I SUSPECT THAT “PRESENT YOURSELF,” AND “BE RECOGNIZED,” MEAN MUCH MORE THAT THE WORDS THEMSELVES, Nelly advised.

NO DOUBT. Kris observed, and turned to Lieutenant Longknife.  “Please advise our captain to adjust the Princess Royal to Condition Palatial A Plus and then some. I’ll be needing the maximum sized Forward Lounge for a complete staff meeting.  Inform the fleet I’ll want the captains and key staff of every ship.  Inform the merchants that I will require all passengers and crew excepting a minimum watch to be here in two hours.  RSVP is mandatory.  The bar will be open, but not free.  Any questions.”

“No ma’am,” Megan answered, cheerful as any Longknife who had a hard job to do, saluted and was off.

“Comm, send to Ron, inviting him to our little meeting and ask him to bring along as many mean looking guards as he may choose.”

“Message sent.  He replies that he will be there, Admiral.”

“Thank you.  Nelly, my key staff over here.  Especially Abby.  We’ve got some writing to do.”

As they wrote, the ship grew and changed around them.

Chapter 31

Ninety minutes later as Kris finished formally dressing for the forthcoming festivities, a schematic of the Princess Royal appeared on the wall in front of her.

“I thought you might want to see how things have changed,” Nelly said.

“How bad can it be?” Jack said, looking around Kris as the same ship diagram.

“Not bad,” Kris said as she took in all the changes.  “Nelly, was the captain okay with this?’

“He asked for some changes.  I ran them by Captain Tosan, who brought in Commodore Ajax because she had experience with you doing strange stuff and they agreed to what I’d suggested.”

“You suggested,” Jack said, eye brows going up.

“You must admit, this is much more logical, and you’ve been moving Admiral’s Country and the quarterdeck around the ship pretty easily,” Nelly said, almost sounding defensive.

“I know we’ve got a lot of people coming, but do we really need three quarterdecks?” Jack asked.  “The merchant sailors and officers and the business people don’t really need a formal quarterdeck, do they?”

Kris stepped over to run her fingers along the schematic.  “How large is the Forward Lounge?” which wasn’t at all forward, but right smack amidships.

“One point four kilometers across at the largest point,” Nelly answered.

“It looks like an amphitheater.” Jack observed.

“It is, with the starboard side slanting down two stories to the port side in steps,” Nelly pointed out.  “The civilian quarterdeck is on the top deck.  It forms a stepped balcony, about as wide as we could make it.  Most of the civilians enter there, find a drink at several of the bars I borrowed from the dining rooms and pubs on the transports.  Several of them were very well appointed.  They provide good service to the business types riding in your wake.”

“How many bars, Nelly?” Kris asked.

“Six, evenly spaced around the starboard bulkhead.”

“And the second deck, Nelly?”  Jack asked.

“That’s the official quarterdeck of the Princess Royal.  Fleet personnel have been advised to skip the first one and go to the second deck where full military honors will be exchanged.  There’s a passageway that gets them around to the lower portside where the Forward Lounge crew will give them the full “O” club treatment.”

“Our quarters are now on the lower deck, below all this,” Jack pointed out.

“As are most of your team, Kris.  There is a formal quarterdeck to render diplomatic honors to the ambassador level officials and their staff.  You will be greeting them and Marines will be standing by to help you usher them around to the seats just below your platform.  The staff of the Forward Lounge will keep their drinks full.  We’re charging those drinks to King Ray.”

“And if a riot breaks out?” Kris asked, only half seriously.

“I can raise a wall between the three groups to keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” Nelly replied.

Kris eyed the set up.  Likely quite a few of the wealthier merchants would not like being dumped in the cheap seats, but just as likely, up there they’d flock together and exchange nasty comments about her.  There was no other way to get over ten thousand people in one place to tell them just exactly how they would live for the next year and what the rules were that they would have to live by if they wanted to make their fortune and not land in Kris’s brig.

Or keep their head off an Iteeche pike.

With a shrug, Kris went to meet the diplomats she’d been saddled with.  She’d been careful to pull on her spidersilk underarmor; no doubt it would dull their diplomatic daggers.

As Kris headed for the hatch between her day quarters and the quarterdeck, the bulkhead moved close to her.  Behind her, her day quarters expanded; Kris wondered who was losing space, but didn’t care enough to ask.  No doubt, all would be made right by the end of the evening.  A wet bar appeared on the bulkhead to her left and two bartenders and several waiters and waitresses in dress Marine Red and Blues stepped through a new hatch to attend the drinks that had also miraculously appeared at the ready.

“Got to love that Smart Metal,” Nelly said.

On the quarterdeck, the band was already in place.  Captain Klum had chosen to skip greeting the arriving Navy officers on the quarterdeck above to serve Kris’s diplomatic needs.

NELLY, HAVE YOU PROVIDED CAPTAIN KLUM WITH A LIST OF WHO WE EXPECT TONIGHT?

YES, KRIS, AMBASSADORS AND STAFF, AS WELL AS FULL PICTURES.  I PRIMED HIS COMPUTER THOROUGHLY.

THANK YOU.

Nelly did not need to name the first man across the brow.  The Honorable Kingston LeJuinne was a white-haired imposing man, a good four inches taller than Kris.  As Earth ambassador, newly developed protocol made him the dean of Kris’s diplomatic corps.

As he came across the gangway, the band met him with four ruffles and flourishes.   Captain Klum saluted him and Kris stepped forward to receive him.  As Kris was learning, civilians expected honors, but rarely rendered them.  He held out his hand to Kris and she shook it.

“I’m so glad to finally meet the inimitable Princess Kris Longknife,” he said.

“I wish we could have arranged it sooner,” Kris said, diplomatically.

“Well, my government gave me my orders.  What can one do but obey?” he said with an all too well-practiced professional shrug.  “I do wish you could have seen your way through to hold a formal dinner once the ambassadorial cats were let out of the bag, so to speak.”

“I thought about it seriously, but the Iteeche Lord arranging for this mission asked that I delay until his master could make arrangements to greet you as well.”

That got ever-so-slight a twitch of an eyebrow from LeJuinne.  Was he annoyed that two could play this surprise game?  Was he as nervous now as Kris was to be only minutes away from meeting Ron’s chooser, a most senior and personal advisor to the worshipful Imperium?

Lieutenant General Juan Longknife had been moving the ambassador’s staff along with a courteous wave.  Lieutenant Meg Longknife took them in tow and led them to where the drinks were in the reception laid on in Kris’s quarters.  Quickly, she returned and Kris had her escort the ambassador, no doubt directly to the bar.

Now, coming up the brow was someone Kris was delighted to see.  When last they parted, Tsusumu Kawaguchi-san had just saved Kris from losing her head, literally, to the headsman’s axe on Musashi.  Now, he was Ambassador Kawaguchi-sama in full kimono and representing an alliance that included not only Musashi and Yamato, but other highly industrialized planets like New Krakow, Far Pusan and Surabaya as well as a dozen developing ones.

He returned the captain’s salute with a bow and then reached for Kris’s hand with both his own.  “It is so good to see you again, my young friend.”

“It is good to see you too, my wise counselor.  I hope you got a good price for that white kimono you bought for me to wear to meet the headsman.”

“Anything that holds the memory of your visit goes for a pretty penny, Your Highness, but no, I did not buy any such thing.  Though you must admit, the picture of you bravely going to meet the headsman in a pure white silk kimono would have guaranteed my party enough votes to keep us in power until my dying day.”

“My children would have sorely missed their mother’s smiling head,” Kris pointed out.

“Ah, yes, there are more of you now.  You must visit Musashi again and bring your children by to meet the Crown Princess’s brood and share tea some time.”

“Her father, your Emperor, is doubtlessly taking delight in his grandchildren?” Kris asked.

“So much so that he is threatening daily to abdicate the hard work to her.  I think he would retire to a hermitage as a simple monk except he knows the grandchildren would drag him home and he would allow them to do so with a broad smile on his face and many giggles from them.”

“So, all is well with you and Musashi?”

“Let us say that things are as exciting as always.  Not as exciting as when you shared our fine days, but exciting enough.  And this,” he said, waving his silken sheathed arm at Kris’s quarterdeck, “How did you bring all this to pass?”

“I may have had more help than I realized, and definitely more than I need.  Why have I not met with you until now?”

If possible, the man’s smile got even broader as he shrugged, the full diplomatic mirror of LeJuinne’s.  “There was much discussion about who should represent us on this great endeavor.  Such discussion went long and I arrived only moments before your fleet sealed locks.  I feared that I might have to commandeer some transport so that I might chase after you.”

“It sounds like opinion on Musashi is just as convoluted as always.”

“How could it be otherwise?  We are merely humans, neh?”

“Are you happy to have won this mission? It seems at times that my great-grandfather, King Raymond to you, seems to frequently drop me into hot water with no warning.”

“And has the water gotten hot all of a sudden?”

“Very,” Kris said.

“Is there more to this mission than I was told?”

“Were you told that we might have to fight our way to the Imperial presence through a rebel blockade?”

Kawaguchi-sama’s eyes narrowed.  “That was a surprise to me and all who speak with me.  We assumed that you knew about it and had it under control.  After all, you are a Longknife.”

“Your friends are too trusting of my skills.  Or luck.”

“Your aide-de-camp is standing not too far behind you with a young Marine at her elbow displaying a plate of hors d’oeuvres and several cups of saké.”

Kris turned to see Lieutenant Longknife waiting patiently, but clearly waiting.  Deftly Kris turned and passed the ambassador along before turning back to see who was next.

There were another ten ambassadors, representing greater and less powers in human space.  The Helvetican Confederacy was represented by two people, a woman and a man.  No doubt, finances and lack of trust had something to do with the double representation.  The Greenfeld Empire had an ambassador, a man Kris recognized as from Vicky’s half, no it was three quarters of the Empire now that followed Vicky.  The Esperanto League, Scanda Confederacy as well as the Hispania Quatrain were represented by full ambassadors even if they were trailed by smaller staff.

Others of the ambassadors came from alliances on the other side of human space from Wardhaven who had yet to send aid to Alwa and, thus, not gotten Kris’s attention.  Nelly, however, both knew them, had their pictures, and could show Kris a map of where they came and how powerful they were.

All of them shared the same questions that the Earth ambassador had.  Why had Kris taken so long to get them together and why were they here now?

Kris sidestepped their questions as well as she had LeJuinne’s.

As Kris watched her aide take the last ambassador into the reception, Kris said, “Nelly, where are our guests of honors?”

“Ron is just passing through the security cordon at the exit from the quay.  I’ve got them on visual, and, to answer your next question before you ask it, I expect they will be here in three or four minutes, assuming nothing slows their present rate of advance.”

“Do you think anyone might try to slow them down?”

“Kris, I may not be human, but I don’t see any way that even one of your most crazy type meatheads would get in their way.  I’m making out ten large, very sharp axes leading the way and some really big, mean looking Iteeche ready to swing them.”

“The main pier clear?”

“Yes, Kris.”

Kris paced off the distance to the brow, trailed by an ever-alert Jack, walking between the eight sideboys who the JOOD was swapping out with another eight.  A chief took those who had stood at attention for the last half hour and marched them off the quarterdeck for a break.

The dock section that faced Kris was empty except for four Marines and a sergeant standing formal guard at the end of the gangplank.

Across from the brow were six huge elevators; each large enough for an oversized station truck.  Now the first set of doors opened and Iteeche began to march forth, rank on rank.

“Oh, God help us,” Kris breathed as she and Jack back peddled to their proper place at Captain Klum’s side.

Chapter 32

From the first open elevator marched four ranks of Iteeche.  Each carried a mean-looking rifle at port arms.  At the end of the long barrel was a half meter long, wicked looking blade.

BAYONETS Nelly provided.

I KNOW WHAT A BAYONET IS, NELLY.  TELL ME ABOUT THE UNIFORMS.  WHAT DO THEY MEAN?

The row on row of marching Iteeche wore dark green pants and midnight-black jackets.  On their heads were tall bronze helmets.  Another two feet or more was added to their seven-foot height by the helmet and feathers or hair rising up from it.

OTHER THAN THAT, THEY LOOK TO BE MEAN DUDES, I HAVE NOTHING TO ADD.

They marched across the pier, and under commands barked by a fellow welding one huge scimitar, wheeled to form two lines facing the Marines at the brow.

Kris had to give credit to the Marines on the pier.  They didn’t so much as flinch.

Now the two lines of troops faced away from each other and marched twenty paces, opening a large hole in the middle of their ranks.  Halting, upon a barked order, they turned smartly to face Kris.  She evaluated the situation and assumed these two lines would form the flanks for something yet to come.

Right on that conclusion, the next elevator door opened.

Iteeche dark as night marched forth; over their right shoulders were long poles with gleaming axe blades on one sides, hooked blades on the other.  They numbered ten strong and marched forward in pairs.  When they reached the point where the first ranks had split, they took two steps more, then pivoted away from each other and marched down the line of Green and Blacks before coming to a stop.

With a low shout, they faced towards the battlecruiser.  With a second shout, they drove the butt of their weapons down hard on the deck.

Nelly, you want to tell me anything about these?

Ron had two like them when he first came aboard the Wasp.  In fact, I think the one at the end of each line might be the same Iteeche.  At least the mass of streamers appear to be the same.  The inner eight look just like them but they seem to have even more streamers.  I think there are two, maybe even three rows of ribbons.  Can you see that, Kris?

Kris could.

It’s hard to tell much about the streamers with them falling all in a mass together, but I think some of them on Ron’s may be similar to those on these new guys.  I’m just guessing though.  There’s not a lot to go on.

Guesses are acceptable for now, Nelly.

Behind Kris, Marines marched at a measured tread.  Out of the corner of her eye, Kris caught three ranks of Marines march, rifles at port arms, to fill the length of the quarterdeck on both sides of her, backing her up.  In place, they did a smart left or right face and presented an alert presence to the pier.

Thank you, Jack.

I thought this might turn into A URINARY Olympic.  I had a full platoon standing by.

Good.

Now the third elevator door opened.  This time, Kris was not surprised.  Dressed all in blood red, row upon row of Iteeche marched forth to form ranks behind the initial group of black and greens.  The weapons they held at port arms were even nastier looking.  Half ended in the long bayonet.  The other half had an under tube that likely shot grenades.  The Iteeche Marines had arrived and they were armed for the kill.

Hopefully, not today, Kris thought.

Once the final order was shouted, the Iteeche ranks fell silent.

A fourth elevator opened.  The small mob that strolled forth could not have been more different from the earlier arrivals.  Here were old men in green and white robes: some more green, others more white.  Surrounding them were smaller Iteeche in tiny loincloths of bright colors.  Their ivory skin showed swirling tattoos.  Kris could not make sense of the artwork.  Were they fish?  Birds?  Flowers?  Or writing?

Some kept well back and fanned the air.  Others held braziers that burned some sort of incense.  The smoke quickly filled the pier.

It took a moment for Kris to get a whiff of what was burning; then she had to fight to hold back a cough.  Her eyes did water.

Whose idea is that?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Nelly, up the blowers.  Keep that crap on their side of the pier.

Yes, Kris, and when they bring it aboard?

I’ll blow that bridge when I come to it.  Ron never used anything like that.

For a moment, Kris mused on the developments.

Jack, is our quarterdeck starting to look downright shabby?

I strongly suspect those snobs are looking down their beaks at our Spartan quarters.

Nelly, if you will, dig through your records for some despotic opulence and lay it on with a front loader and back hoe.

Oh, I was hoping you’d want me to, Nelly said, and the Princess Royal’s quarterdeck began to change around them.

It started at the foot of the brow.  The gangway was wide enough for Sailors to walk two abreast, both coming and going.  It also matched a station truck’s breadth.

Now it tripled in width.  But Nelly didn’t just triple it in one blink.  No.  Starting at the pier and flowing smoothly toward the ship, the gangway not only widened, but transformed before their watching eyes.  Where the black of gritty tread paths had been, now were silver cobbles, scoured with swirls that gleamed in the light.  The handrail of Navy spartan was now beaten gold, with huge diamonds sparkling in more soft colors than Kris thought carbon could be tinted with.

Then the flow of change swept up to Kris and past her.  Bland, Navy gray bulkheads transformed into thick brocade curtains, a soft sea green that rippled in a breeze that Kris could not feel.  She allowed herself on slow turn of her head to take this all in and was greeted by the sight of banners cascading from the overhead.

Pride of place was a scarlet banner with two rampant lions on it in gold, a blazing sun between them and over a hundred and seventy suns in a triple circle around them.  King Ray’s official seal.  Next to it waved a green and black banner displaying in silver the new seal that Vicky had adopted for her part of her family’s Empire.

Beside those two were more banners, likely representing the alliances of the ambassadors Kris had welcomed aboard.  Behind them were row upon row of other banners, likely enough to represent every planet in human space.  They all waved and twisted in the nonexistent breeze.

Or tide?

Nelly, you’ve created a forest of seaweed.

Neat, isn’t it, Kris?  Banners are old Earth, but I came up with the idea of making them look like sea vegetation.  With any luck, it will make our Iteeche friends feel safe, what with someplace to hide just a few swim strokes away.

Or somewhere to attack them from, Jack added in.

Should I change it?

No, Nelly, it looks gorgeous.  Besides we don’t want to look indecisive before our guests.

And more guests were arriving.

About that time those from the fourth elevator had finished arranging themselves in the space between the two files of Soldiers and Marines.  In the apparent chaos, there must have been some sort of ranking, but it evaded both Kris and Nelly.

Their attention, however, was now drawn to the fifth elevator.  Its doors opened to disgorge another mob.  These were dressed all in white or all in green.  Previously, Kris had only seen the two colors blended together, their wearers functioning as advisors to Ron.  Exactly what the two separately meant was a puzzle Kris hoped she’d solve before it cost someone their life.

Orbiting around these taller and much older Iteeche were another collection of smaller hangers on.  These bore no clothes at all.  Physically, they appeared identical, though half were tattooed in bright colors and the other half in somber blacks and grays.  If the two Iteeche sexes were represented, Kris could not tell.

She had once silently observed Ron swimming naked in the moonlight.  His body had appeared sleek and smooth, no nipples, no visible genitals.  Once again, Kris was presented with the evidence of a race that produced by eggs and sperms dispersed into the sea to spawn fingerlings that had to survive on their own from the moment they broke free from the egg sack.

There’s a whole ton of psychology and sociology lurking behind that, Kris reminded herself.

Several of these nudes bore wings on their backs that quickly proved to be water fountains.  The trickle and gurgle of water now filled the air, as did mist as the fountains sent water spraying into the air.

Nelly, take the blowers back to normal, Kris ordered, wondering what the air out on the pier must smell like and wanting to get a taste of it before this mob came aboard her ship.

What Kris found herself breathing did still have overtones of the incense the first group was burning, but now it was overpowered by the salty tang of ocean spray.  Combined, it wasn’t so bad.

Now this group melded with the first and Kris began to see a pattern.  The central space between the men-at-arms now was divided down the middle, white and green with an open aisle between them.  Those wearing green and white mixed stood outboard of them, those with more green than white near the greens, those with more white beside the whites.  The thin line of Iteeche at the cusp beside the military appeared to be younger and wore a pretty balanced mix of the two colors.

Do you think one group are spiritual advisers and the other secular? Jack asked on net.

The Emperor is worshipful, Kris agreed.

But I have no evidence that they have any kind of deity.  I’ve identified something like ancestor worship, but nothing more, Nelly put in.

So, Nelly, no jumping to conclusions.

I would strongly suggest that you don’t.

Now, the sixth elevator door slowly swung open.

Chapter 33

Hardly more than a crack had appeared when there was a blare of trumpets, a clash of cymbals and a roll of many different drums.  To Kris’s ear, there was only discord, but before her, the Iteeche Soldiers and Marines seemed to brace stiffer still, and the chatter among the green and whites evaporated.

As soon as the doors opened fully, this band marched forth.  Their uniforms were a wild mixture of greys and browns, yellows and blues.  If there was any significance to the hues and how they were displayed, again, Kris was left realizing just how alien the Iteeche were to human kin.

After the band had taken station along the far wall, blocking access to the other elevators, a small procession came forth.  These five Iteeche wore a single-piece red robe that dragged the floor and rose to a peak a half meter above their heads.  There were slits in it for them to see out, but no other opening except for their hands.  To their breasts they hugged crystal clear orbs with golden lids.  But it was what was inside the bowls that took Kris’s breath way.

There were snakes in the Iteeche’s evolutionary tree.  At least, the many striped things that wiggled inside the bowls had no legs.  They could coil themselves up, and as Kris watched, several did.  Then they rose up, flared the hood behind their heads, opened their mouths and hissed through a mouth dominated by four long fangs.

I’d call them cobras if they were from Old Earth, Kris.

I’ve heard Ron talk about making a solemn apology to the Emperor by drinking poison, but maybe we didn’t get the context right, Kris said.  Nelly, review our understanding of those conversations and get back to me later.

Will do, Kris.

Those who bore the crystal globes kind of slithered down the open aisle.  As they passed them, the green and whites seemed to lean ever so slightly away from them.  As they passed the   front line of poleax carriers, they turned, two one way, three the other, and moved to stand evenly spaced before the axe men.

Opinion, Nelly.

The rifles are the modern representatives of authority.  The snakes and axes are the old symbols of the same.  You piss me off Imperially, civilly or criminally and I’ll send one of those two to visit you.

Jack?

A good working hypothesis until proven otherwise.  Still, as Judge Diana would tell you, “We have insufficient information to form an opinion.”

And yes, Jack, I’m glad we don’t have them along this trip.  I do love jumping to conclusions.

Yes, Kris, but remember, sometimes a snake is just a snake and an axe is just an axe.

Thank you, Nelly.

The cymbals crashed, the horns began to blow and the drums went deadly quiet.  Kris’s attention returned front and center.

There, two dozen Iteeche stepped forth, a palanquin born high above their shoulders by three poles.  Again, the Iteeche bearers wore nothing; the alabaster skin over their bulging muscles was highlighted by tattoos of aquamarine and magenta, amber and turquoise . . . shot through with bold slashes of red and black.

Racing stripes, anyone? Nelly put in.

The enclosure they bore was a work of art in wood and wicker, lacquer and cloth.  Portions were dominated by finely worked gold filigree, other sections were covered with delicate pictures of what Kris took for sea scenes or Iteeche bowing to chairs like this one.

Which is exactly what happed as the palanquin carriers stepped onto the pier.  The less dressed and naked fell to their hands and knees and bowed their heads to the ground.  Those with braziers of incense set them before them as did those with the water fountains.  Apparently, all that noise making had put them on warning because the entire exercise was carried out with the fluid grace of a wave washing toward the shore.  Those with the fans went down as well, but kept the fans moving with the right or left pair of their arms.

Following behind the palanquin were four Iteeche, apparently from the same rental agency based on their tattoo jobs.  They supported an ornate sedan chair between them.  A curtain shielded its occupant from the attention of those around him.  On an order from within, the attendants carefully lowered the sedan chair and while three went to the full head, hands and knees drill, the fourth obsequiously pulled the curtain aside.

Ron stepped out in full regal raiment.  As Kris had seen him when first they met, his clothing shone in the light and turned every shade under the rainbow as he stood.

You have got to get yourself a dress made out of that stuff, Jack put in.

Nelly, make a note.  In my vast spare time, I’m to figure out the ins and outs of Iteeche commerce, dress making and whatever, and get me a dress made of that stuff.

You don’t have to be mean to Jack.  I think you’d look great in such a dress.  Unless you want me to make you up some temporary tattoos so you can dance up the moon for the Imperial court.

I was a lot younger then, Kris growled.

But just as lovely, Jack added quickly.

Enough.  Back to business.

And business was finally developing.  Ron, or more correctly at the moment, Ron’sum’Pin’sum’We qu Cap’sum’We barked an order and those carrying the palanquin carefully lowered it to the deck, then assumed the head down bow, though they pulled their legs up under themselves to take up less room.  Ron stepped through them to climb a set of stairs to the ornate gazebo they carried.  He unlatched the door and offered a hand inside to help its occupant out.

And the big Kahuna himself stepped forth.

He was shorter than Ron, possible the result of a gentle stoop to his shoulders, but it was hard to tell.  He wore an elaborate headdress of gold, silver and jewels.  He appeared paler than any Iteeche there, but unlike the others, there were wrinkles around his eyes and beak.

Like Ron, his clothing was made of the cloth that shimmered and changed color, either in the light or as he moved.  Each of his four legs was draped in loose fitting folds that might be trousers or maybe a single skirt.  The cloth of his sleeves swept all the way to the ground.  Gold filigree at the wrists encouraged them to drag the floor as he walked.

As Ron’s chooser shook out his garments, Kris realized she had a small diplomatic crisis on her hands.  So far, everyone had come to her.  Of course, they were all ambassadorial in rank and she was the full emissary for King Ray.

Also, she had the free booze.

But what about this?  Should she wait for the Imperial advisor to come to her or had she better take the extra step?  Out there, his guards surrounded him.  Should she really expect that he had brought all this artillery to her door step to then leave them behind and cross her brow on his own?

The longer Ron and his chooser took their own sweet time to shake out his robes, the bigger the question of what happens next grew.

Nelly, get me Ron on net.

Kris, he is off net.

Off net!

Node not active.

You son of a squid, Kris thought and did her best to suppress a scowl.  Neat way to avoid negotiations, don’t mention it ahead of time and be unavailable when the fat hits the fire.

Jack, with me.

With Jack at her elbow she slow marched down the ornate brow, through the axe men and snake tenders, and by the armed honor guard and hangers on.  With Jack threading his way one row over from her, she walked down a row of kowtowing palanquin carriers to stand behind Ron’s chooser.

Only when she was there did Ron make to clear his throat, and lift a hand to point to where Kris waited.

The old Iteeche turned and Kris looked into eyes that had grown old but were still alert, if weary.  For a moment, Kris wondered what he’d been like when he and her much younger great-grandfather had met to seek an end to the endless bloodshed and destruction of the Iteeche War.  Human War to those Iteeche Kris now stood among.

Ron began to speak, and Kris paid close attention to the translation.

“My celebrated chooser, it is my joyful responsibility to introduce to you Grand Admiral, Her Royal Highness, Kristine Longknife of the United Society, Chosen Royal Battle Fleet Commander of the mighty war clan Longknife, Hammerer of barbarians from without the Empire and Emissary and Speaker for Humanity to our Worshipful Emperor.”

Kris saluted.  She’d made up her mind that her king would bow to no one.  She was King Ray in the flesh.  She did not bow.

The old Iteeche showed no reaction.

Ron went on.  “Know you, Grand Admiral and Princess Kristine, you stand in the glorious presence and I have the great honor of presenting you to Roth’sum’We’sum’Quin Chap’sum’We, First Chooser of that sib who stands as Second Advisor to His Worshipfulness in All Things Wise and Desirable and stands as First Advisor to His Worshipfulness in affairs concerning the dark matters taking place outside the Realm of Light that our Worshipful Emperor smiles upon.  He is rightly charged with Defense of the Realm and possesses the worshipful Emperor’s full power to mete out High Justice.  The Worshipful One bids all to stand in awe of him as they would of Himself.”

Ron’s back on net and he tells me Roth has agreed to cut it short or we’d be here all night.

Tell Ron I’m glad he’s back on net.

I didn’t.

Very diplomatic call.

Kris lowered her salute and cautiously offered her hand.  When the Iteeche grand honcho failed to reach for it, she dropped the effort.

“May I welcome you to my simple command ship.  Since it was built to hammer those that lurk beyond the Realm of Light, it is but a simple warship,” Kris said, hoping a little humility wouldn’t be mistaken for weakness.  Not when she tossed “hammer” in there right away.

The old Iteeche began to walk toward the gangplank, with Kris on his left hand, Ron on his right.  He did not even spare a glance at the circus that knelt silently around him.

Instead, he spoke to Kris.  “My worthy chosen one has told me how you met resistance during your placid voyage to the Worshipful One’s Radiant Presence.”

“Yes, we did run into ships that did not seem to sail the way some would wish,” Kris said, showing she could be just as evasive as the best diplomat.

“I am told that you evaded the problem without harm to any of your ships.”

“Yes,” Kris agreed.  “My brief had not extended to such matters within the peace of an Empire of Harmony.  I chose not to chastise them, but sent them on their way unenlightened.”

“Hopefully, you will not always be so gentle with those who have left the path of the righteous.”

“Hopefully, in the future, I will know more about what I am sailing into and what is expected of me when I get there.”

Roth took two more steps toward the Princess Royal, then paused to turn to Kris.  Behind him, she could see one axe man and one of the snake carriers march toward her.

Then he hacked out a noise that brought a That’s a laugh from Nelly.  He clapped her on the shoulder.  “You are so much like your twice removed chooser.  His sperm runs strong along your backbone.  My chosen warned me that I might face as much roiled water as I had in my youth.  It will be good to swim among those likes again.  Come, show me what you have prepared for me.”

Chapter 34

Kris had a general concept of how the evening was supposed to go.  First, she’d introduce Roth to the ambassadors, then she’d take him and the rest into the much modified Forward Lounge and tell all the humans just how the cow was going to eat the cabbage if said cow didn’t want to end up hamburger.

Having a concept of a plan was one thing.  Executing that plan was something else entirely.  Especially when the centerpiece of the plan had arrived with axes and snakes.

While Kris pondered her problem, Roth solved it for her.

One of the snake charmers and two of the axe men stepped out of place and took station ahead of them.  Eight Marines behind them stepped out of ranks and marched to cover their rear.  Without a signal from anyone, this little parade proceeded up the gangway and onto the quarterdeck.

Captain Klum saluted.  The band blared out ruffles and flourishes four times and then wisely fell silent, no one having provided them any music that his Worshipful’s court claimed for an anthem.

As the snake bearer reached the forest of banners, they parted before him, opening like some ancient sea tale.

Quite spectacular, Nelly.

It just seemed like the right thing, Kris.

Is someone getting spontaneous?

I’ve told enough bad jokes to have earned some spontaneity.  Also, Lieutenant Longknife has advised the ambassadors that our guest of honor is coming.  They are forming a receiving line to meet him.

Have her advise them that a bow will go over much better than a offered handshake.  Those in a uniform, diplomatic or military, might want to salute.

Done Kris.

Ahead of Kris, two Marines held open wide the doors from the quarterdeck to the reception and the Iteeche procession passed into the lower deck of the Forward Lounge.  In the reverse of the usual practice, the human ambassadors had formed a loose line leaving plenty of room for the Iteeches with their snakes and axes.

Ron guided his chooser to meet Ambassador leJuinne of Earth.  Once again, Ron went through the long process of introducing him.  Fortunately, the Earth diplomat introduced himself by name and who he represented but not much else.  It was the same with Kawaguchi-san, except he added several of the larger planets he represented.  As they went down the other ten, nothing changed.  Ron said a mouthful and the humans answered with their names and the association or planets they represented.

Kris, the crowd in the Forward Lounge was getting antsy, so I put this on several screens.  Most are ignoring them, but it’s quieted things down a bit.

Thanks, Nelly.

At the end of the line, Lieutenant Longknife awaited them, with a sweep of an arm, and not even a glance at the snake, she ushered them out of the reception and into a short corridor that led to the lowest precincts of the Forward Lounge.  The bottom section had been arranged to give Kris a podium and a table from which her main support staff could back her up.  Abby was already there, along with Jacques and Amanda.  Off to the right of the podium were two elaborate gold and bejeweled seats specially designed to be comfortable for Iteeche.

How Ron would array the accompanying guards was quickly handled.  While Ron helped Roth seat himself and adjust the throne, Smart MetalTM being good for that, the guy with the snake came to stand between them, and a step back.  The two dudes with the honking big axes were also a step back but to the left and right of the thrones.  The eight Marines in bright red uniforms backed them all up, bringing their weapons to order arms with a crash.

Kris stood close at hand, in case she needed to squash any untold developments while the diplomats followed them in and found their seats.  Marine waiters circulated among them, taking orders.  Nelly was her magnificent self.  Only a few moments after the drink order had been spoken, a glass with the appropriate beverage rose from the table.

Roth spotted one of them and raised wide his two left eyes at Kris.  “Are you now making food out of that Smart Metal of yours?”

“I assure you, Your Most Eminent Advisor,” the short title Ron had suggested, “the spirts are quite natural and you can see the bartenders over there mixing the drinks.  It’s just the delivery system that Nelly has upgraded.”

“We have heard much of your Magnificent Nelly,” Ron’s chooser said, “Someday you must let her show us all her tricks.”

“I would be most grateful for the opportunity,” Nelly answered from Kris’s collar bone.

All preparation done, Kris dismissed herself with the same nod of the head she would have allowed Grand Duchess Vicky Peterwald, and stepped off the paces to her rostrum.  There she stared at her notes for a moment, cleared her throat, and looked up.

Never had Kris addressed a full amphitheater.  Raising row upon row, at three different levels, stretched out tables and chairs with thousands of people drinking and sharing small talk.

Gradually, the silence from the well of the theater worked its way uphill as Kris picked out first one, then another clump of people and silenced them with an eye.

When the silence was totally complete, Kris began.

“Your Most Eminent Advisor of your Worshipful Emperor, Eminently Chosen One, Your Excellencies, Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming.  I know it has been a long and eventful journey, both for you who traveled with me and those who waited for our arrival.”

Kris took a deep breath, “We set our feet today on a new and, no doubt, challenging path for both us and our two peoples.  The extent to which we succeed or fail will have a great impact on both ourselves and the next generations of our peoples.”

Kris paused and let her eyes rove around the room, picking up important cliques among the merchant princes.

“We will not fail.”

She had the full attention of the business men and women.

“While we were gathering here, a Navy longboat intercepted a small boat.  My Marines have had a quiet chat with those aboard the yawl.  Somehow they had managed to establish contacts on the ground and they were on their way to make their fortune before the rest of you.”

A low growl swept the upper seats.

“I hope those schemers have others who will look after their interests, because they will be spending the next six months in my flagship’s brig.”

The growl from the merchants was different this time.  They might not like anyone trying to rush the market, but they liked Kris locking any of them up even less.

“Now I know that many of you merchants have come here to make your fortune.  I know that you see the Iteeche Empire as a wide-open market that you can leave your mark on and grow wealthy.”

Kris paused just long enough for some to lean forward in their seats before she went on.

“Unfortunately, I have some sad news for you.  The Iteeche are an ancient people and their Empire predates we humans learning to build ships, much less space ships.  They have been trading among themselves since before we started trading sharp rocks for pretty colored rocks.  They’ve got ways of doing business.  You cross one of their advisors who rates an axe man or worse, a poisonous snake in a crystal bowl, and it won’t be a few months in my brig that will be slowing you down.”

“Now, I’ve fought some mighty mean critters.  I’ve left a lot of them dead behind me.  Of my own people, my first preference is to bring them home.  The more the better.  You, I’d like to send you home with wild tales to tell anyone who’ll listen about how strange things are in the mighty Iteeche Empire.  I’d rather not be returning your frozen cadaver like a block of ice stowed in the back of the freezer.  So, let me tell you how things are going to come down.”

Kris swept the room with a hard look.

“Tomorrow, I am invited to present my credentials to His Worshipfulness, the Emperor of the Iteeche Empire.  Once we break the seal on my instructions from King Raymond, and we have reached some meetings of our mind, I am told I will be taken to my new palace.  It’s not really mine, it’s more like yours.  That is where you will stay on planet.  That is where the Iteeche lords will allow businessmen to come to meet with you and enter into agreements that will be fully documented and certified by those same lords.”

A lot of mouths were hanging open among the merchant princes.

“Yes, the Iteeche are making the rules and, if you want to keep your head on your shoulders or avoid yielding your neck for a snake bite, you are advised to follow those instructions.  Yes, I know how things are back home.  But you’ve left the safety of home.  Here you are under the Iteeche’s rules.”

“Are you going to let them run us around like we have a gold ring in our nose?  You Longknifes,” came from somewhere up in the cheap seats.

Roth’s four eyes narrowed, there was an instinctive flick of his wrist.

Instantly the two guys with pole axes took two steps forward and brought them down to the ready, points aimed at the upper rows.  The crimson-hooded man with the snake orb jiggled the lid just enough to send creepy noises forth.

The acoustics in this place are fantastic, Nelly.

Maybe too good.  They can hear every word you say, but you get guys like that one shooting his mouth off.

Yeah.

“A word of warning to those who came here seeking to make a fortune,” Kris said, continuing her lecture on the rules as they would apply to her merchant princes.  “Merchants are not held in very high regards among the Iteeche.  The pecking order is lords, priests, warriors, craftsmen, farmers and lastly merchants.  Feel free to debate the costs and benefits of such an arrangement with my advisors, but I wouldn’t recommend raising that question with someone dirtside with headsman and snake wranglers at their elbow.  You saw how His Eminent Advisor reacted, how fast these fellows with death at their fingertips moved to reward disrespect in their presence.  You can thank your lucky stars that you are aboard a Royal battlecruiser and not ashore.  Personally, I doubt that the kilometer between here and there would have saved you if you were on the planet below.  My great-grandfather, your King, has told me stories of just how far and accurate an Iteeche warrior could throw one of those things.”

The beak and eyes on Roth’s face relaxed from pure death to the normal Iteeche unreadable blandness of his species.  Beside him, his headsman took two steps back and, with two grunts, raised their poles back up and ground then down hard.

“Now, I’ve drawn up a set of simple ground rules.  If we were in a war zone like Alwa, we’d call them the Articles of War.  Here, we’ll just call the them the Article of Accords.  The Iteeche Emperor wants us to stay to ourselves.  Therefore, traders and merchants will live in the Pink Coral Palace and do their work from there as well.  It is large, near the Imperial Precincts itself, and quite spacious.  It will also be very well-guarded.  Iteeche who have received approval to meet with you will be admitted into the palace.”

There was some noticeable shuffling of feet, but under the watchful eyes of the axe men, no one risked a word.  “You may request to meet with craftsmen and traders of any kind that interest you.  You may also post on the doors of the palace any wares that you think the Iteeche might become interested in.  And yes, I know,” Kris said, to head off low murmurs, “that this is a very old school way of getting information out there.  However, I’m told that the Iteeche equivalent to our net is not accessible.  I agree with you that this is a challenge we ought to be able to resolve in some fashion, but it’s not something I’ve been able to solve yet.  I’m sure a lot of you will, no doubt, be ready to offer me your assistance in changing this.”

That got some loud guffaws.  Ron quickly leaned over to explain the human sense of humor to his Chooser.  The axes stayed where they were.

“I am in negotiations to arrange for some recreation and relaxation facilities dirtside for both merchant and Royal Sailors.  This came as a surprise to our hosts.  If you’ve taken a look down there, you may have noticed it’s crowded beyond belief.  Iteeche don’t appear to need space to get away from each other.  If necessary, we will arrange to convert some of our warships into recreation sites for both service personnel, merchant crews and other officials.  I strongly suspect that as soon as word gets back about conditions out here, the next convoy will have some enterprising hoteliers and restauranteurs with a number of pleasure ships of the first order. For now, we’ll just have to make do.  Read through the Articles of Accord.  No one will be allowed off ship again without signing them.  Keep them handy.  If you have any doubts that what you are thinking about doing is a bad idea, don’t do it.  I assure you, you are deep into the woods where asking permission is going to work a whole lot better than asking forgiveness.”

Kris paused one last time.

“I really think you’ll find that forgiveness is not much in supply where the Iteeche Empire is concerned.”

Beside her, Ron nodded solemnly.  Beside him, Roth sat solid as stone.

Chapter 35

Next morning, Kris rendered honors then paused at the brow of the Princess Royal.  On the pier, two shabby contraptions waited for Kris and Jack.

Kris was not amused.

Four muscular Iteeche each stood beside two sedan chairs.  Very plain sedan chairs, as in chipped rattan and dull brown cloth, wide open for everyone to see you as you were carried by.  Distinctly low class compared to what Ron and his chooser had arrived in the night before.

“Is this somebody’s idea of a joke?” Jack asked.

“Joke, political maneuvering, it’s all the same if you can keep your sense of humor.”

“You want me to check them out for bombs?”

“Don’t bother.  We won’t be using them.  Nelly.”

“Yes, Kris.”

“I want two sedan chairs.  Top of the line.  Deluxe models, full force royal and then some.  Oh, and improve the design and leave room for growth as well.”

“You bet,” tasted of pure delight.

Behind Kris on the quarterdeck, two sedan chairs flowed up from the deck.  The chairs were fully enclosed in boxes of royal blue.  On the one closest to Kris was a door with King Ray’s royal seal.  Rising from the two front corners were small flagpoles, one with the US flag, the other with Kris’s five star flag.  Jack’s two flags included the Marine globe and starship as well as a red one with three white stars.  Golden filigree screens on the front, back, and both doors, showed opulence and allowed for the free flow of air as well as a good view out.  But it was the shining chrome plated carrying poles that changed everything.

The rattan chairs provided had been like the one Ron arrived in the night before.  They had two poles with an Iteeche at each quarter walking outside the traces and holding the sedan chair with one hand.  Kris didn’t look forward to that uneven ride.  Nelly’s design still had two poles but they were shining silver, and between them were supple brown leather harnesses, two before, and two aft.  The porters would stand inside the traces and lift the burden with their shoulders as well as their hands.  This allowed for a much better distribution of the weight as well as a more balanced ride.

“I bet everyone that sees this is going to be jealous,” Nelly crowed.

“What part did you miss about the Empire not wanting the lowly working class to see all the sparkly new things we humans can bring to them, Nelly?” Jack asked.

“Kris asked for a super deluxe ride.  This one gleams super.”

“It’s not the gleam that I’m worried about,” Jack put in.  “It’s the improvement that that harness is blaring to the housetops.  A minor improvement like that could half the number of porters needed to carry one person.  You need to ask Amanda and Jacques what that might do to the labor force.”

“I knew exactly what I was doing when I did it, Jack.”  Nelly’s words were cold, glacially cold.

“I figured you did,” Kris said.  “Now, about my porters.  Pale plain skin didn’t cut it last night.  Any suggestions?”

“Ron’s porters were naked,” Jack said.

“But their tattoos had all kinds of designs to them,” Nelly said. “Should I duplicate them?”

“That might not be safe,” Kris said.  “We don’t know what the symbols meant.  Still, I guess dressing them in some sort of classical Earth servant garb might be overdoing it.  We need something else.”

“I could knock together some nanos to paint temporary tattoos on them.  Say something like you wore to Dance Up the Moon on Hikila.”

“I like that Nelly, but the flower and fish designs might not go over here.”

Jack coughed softly.  “When I was a boy, I loved the stories about super heroes with super powers.  I used to get in trouble with my mom because most of what the women, and guys, wore was pretty not there, and what was there was skin tight.”

“Kris liked them too.  I helped her figure out new places to hide the books from her mother.”

Kris turned to the OOD.  “Bring those Iteeche aboard.”

Two minutes later some very dismayed porters were trying to decide which to react to the most, their new body covering or the new sedan chair they were expected to carry.  Nelly hadn’t actually copied any trademarked character.  Still, they now sported full body tattoos blending bright red, green, blue, yellow and black with bold symbols from old Earth’s heraldry.

Jack took the time to have Major Puller order up the two ready alert platoons from the Intrepid.  Three minutes later, they double timed it onto the pier, dress Red and Blues immaculate; the additional load out of ammunition pouches, even bandoliers for grenadiers, was hardly noticeable.  Half of the P. Royal’s waiting Marines platoons were also dismissed to make a quick run to the armory.  They returned loaded with not only enough extra pouches for themselves, but also for their comrades who had stayed alertly on guard.

Kris studied all the revised preparations for a walk to the Emperor, and decided it was good.  Ready, she let Gunny close the hatch for both of them and with two Marine platoons in front and another two aft, properly reinforced with both forensic and electronic surveillance elements, they were off.

The ride was smooth; Kris ordered the convoy to a trot.  They had a ferry to catch and they’d used up most of the extra cushion Kris had included in their schedule.  Their two chairs quickly caught up with Ron’s own chair and his escort of a dozen Iteeche Marines, two headsmen and a snake charmer who had a smaller sedan chair of his own carried by only two Iteeche in crimson tattoos.

Ron called to have an Iteeche Marine lower the grill between him and Kris.  She made hers to vanish away.

“Those are not the chairs that were sent for you.”  He glanced fore and aft.  “Those are certainly not the porters from the Imperial palace.”

“Were chairs sent for me from the Imperial Palace?” Kris asked.  “The ones that arrived looked like these,” and Nelly created a hologram between them of the ones left behind.

“No, those are not what His Worshipfulness sent to carry you into His August Presence.  It is a great honor to be carried all the way to within his sight.  It would have been a major insult for you to have ridden in those.”

“I’m glad you’re here to warn me,” Kris said.

“Do you know what happened to the original chairs?” Ron asked.

“What you see is what arrived.”

Ron nodded his head, a negative that Kris had to adjust to.  “This is bad.  We would have had to correct the error.  That would have taken time.  We would have missed our ferry ride down and you arriving late to the Imperial invitation would have been cause for someone to make a formal apology.  Likely either me or my chooser.”

Kris added all that had happened this morning and did not like what it totaled out to.  “I take it that there are some who do not approve of a human meeting with the Emperor.  Are all those wanting to cause trouble counted among the ranks of the rebels or are there other oars in this water?”

“Many fins, too many of them swimming in different directions,” Ron told her.

Kris thought on that as they covered the distance to the end of the quay.  There they were further delayed.  It seemed the guard had orders to allow no humans out and somehow the Imperial invitation had not been logged.

It was a good thing that Ron was with Kris.  He demanded exit for himself and his entire party.  His axe men scowled and the snake bowl’s lid got rattled.

Suddenly the exit guards were backing out of Ron’s way as quickly as they could without tumbling over each other.  Ron quickly moved out, Kris and Jack right behind him, but Kris urged her porters to trot up to beside her favorite Iteeche.

“What do you want to bet me that the ferry leaves early?” Kris asked Ron.

Four Iteeche Marines and a whole platoon of US Marines double timed it off, with one axe man in the lead and the crimson snake charmer pulling up the rear.

“Nelly, take a note.  Check the ranks of the Marines and Sailors for bodybuilders who know how to wield long poll axes.  Also, put in an order to Wardhaven for a couple of cobras or rattlesnakes and someone who knows how to take care of them.”

“You think you can get away with it?” Jack asked on net.

“I’ll have to check with Ron and Roth, but I definitely want Nelly to remind me about this next time we’re together.  Certainly I rate four, maybe even eight axes.  Three, maybe four snake bowls.  Nothing beats a try but a failure.”

“Just remember, Kris,” Nelly said.  “You told the merchants that asking permission was a much better idea than asking forgiveness.”

“I remember, Nelly.  Oh, do I remember,” Kris said as they hurried up to the space elevator station.

Chapter 36

The public address announced that a ferry would soon be arriving on track six.  Shore hands on the track to Kris’s left readied it for an arrival.

To Kris’s right, a ferry stood, its receiving hatches wide open.  Its captain stood in the middle of the gangway, eyes downcast, avoiding any eye contact with Ron, Kris . . . or the glaring headsman, much less the coiled up and hissing snake with only thin glass between its fangs and his neck.

No questions were asked.  With a wave from Ron, the ferry skipper was dismissed to get his vessel moving post-haste.

Ron led the way to an opulent VIP lounge where they could relax while nude Iteeche saw to their every need.  At least they did for every wealthy Iteeche.  Kris and Jack settled for a glass of water that tasted strongly of salt and other things Kris didn’t want to think too much about.

Nelly, note to maintenance staff.  Install our own filtration system for the water supply at our new, fancy palace.

Already on it, Kris.

Jack oversaw several Gunnies seeing to it that all his Marines were cared for.  That caused a bit of a stir, but even Iteeche snobs can’t stand before a Gunny’s glare.  He even had a private take a water bag to the bearers.  They seemed startled by the attention, but definitely guzzled down the offered drink.

With that covered, Kris turned to face Ron.  “Someone doesn’t want me or us to meet the Emperor, at least not at the scheduled time.”

“I have also come to that conclusion.  I have been in touch with my Eminent Chooser and explained our morning.  He is making arrangements.  Assuming our ferry is not shot out of the sky, there will be no further surprises.”

Kris heard a hard gulp from Jack at the “shot out of the sky” remark.  She turned to see him shaking his head.  “Maybe we ought to keep our options more fluid next time we land.  Say flip a coin between the beanstalk or a lander.”

“It is forbidden to use a lander in the Imperial Presence,” Ron said.  “Any that come even close would be shot down.  The cause for this edict is lost in the distant past, but one needs little imagination to see why.”

Kris had Nelly call up a holographic map of where they were headed.  The Imperial Precincts was a huge oval that dominated the center of a massive city.  Inside its moated walls were gardens, even a small forest.  Delicate spires shot up hundreds of stories while other structures were low buildings with roofs that looked ready to fly away.

Radiating out from the walled precincts were broad, straight boulevards.  Connecting them were some streets that twisted in gentle curves around parks and huge spiraling skyscrapers.  Not everywhere was so spacious.  Other parts of town were packed cheek to jowl, with a jumble of buildings only a few stories high serviced by much narrower roads and alleys.

Jack, something tells me that they don’t have very strong zoning laws.

Or they’ve done urban renewal here, but not there, Kris.  Kind of like if you have a war here, but not there.

“Once we have a base at the Red Coral Palace,” Jack said, “we’ll have to make sure to be more random about which door we leave from and what routes we travel by.”  Today, however, it looked to be just a short zig from the space elevator to a main boulevard, then straight up it to the Imperial Palace.  That did not look good to Kris.

“Tell me, does your Eminent Chooser have any suggestion as to who has been playing with our schedule and what they might do once we’re down there?”

Ron took a long drink of amber liquid from a tall beaker, then choose from among a bowl of squiggly things with four pinchers.  He munched his choice slowly before admitting, “There are too many swimmers in the water to choose between for me to answer your question.  Do you humans not have complicated circumstances when change is in the wind?”

“Yes.  We invented the word Byzantine for just such cases.  Why do you think I’m saddled with several boat-loads of competing diplomats and merchants?” Kris admitted.

As the ferry approached the landing, Kris reboarded her sedan chair.  Ron, Kris and Jack were carried to the main exit and allowed the first and most honored place in line.  There were other snakes and axe guys in evidence, but none tried to interfere with four platoons of Marines, US or Iteeche.

The ferry came to a smooth stop, the hatches swung open and Kris was carried down the gangway, but only to a waiting car.  Once again, she dismounted, now under the watchful eye of an additional battalion of armed Iteeche in magenta and cream uniforms.  Their commanders bowed low, likely to Ron and ushered them a six-door, eight-wheeled midnight black vehicle that could easily have passed for a stretched limo anywhere in human space.

Megan and Major Puller joined them to share the forward jump seats with an Imperial Marine and an advisor in green and white.

Around the limo were a fleet of trucks, all eight-wheeled, many of them with weapons bulging from their tops.  Some were crimson, others red.  Quite a few were magenta and cream.  Others looked a bit long on the tooth and in need of painting.  It was into one of those that Kris’s porters and sedan chairs were loaded.  Gunny sent a fire team to keep a lookout on them.

The other U.S. Marines quickly filled up all the empty truck rigs.  In a few cases, they got scrunched in with Iteeche Marines or Roth’s magenta and cream household guards.

In hardly a minute, the sidewalk and car park was empty of uniformed personnel.

“With your permission, oh Wisely Chosen One,” the Iteeche Marine seated across from Ron said.  With a nod from Ron, the motorcade was off.

They wound their way along a wide street, that, for no apparent reason, twisted and turned through a park like area.  There was much less traffic than Kris would have expected on Wardhaven, and much of what there was were small two or three wheeled electric scooters.  All had a driver, usually naked, and one or two passengers in flowing robes.

There were larger vehicles, many with an axe or a snake for a hood ornament.  The central lanes were reserved for them.

The limo drove slowly past one of the red gun trucks pulled over to the side of the road.  All hands were out, two kicking four flat tires on one side while the soldiers looked around cautiously.

The rest of the escort turned onto a wide boulevard and the convoy shook out into a series of cordons around her and Ron’s vehicle.

Admiral, you know that way I have with nets, Meg said, on Nelly Net.

You’ve mentioned it once or twice, Lieutenant.

Well, I seem to be tracking the Iteeche comm net.

Can you make anything of it?

My computer is translating it as fast as she can.

Nelly?

My daughter is passing it along to all of us, Kris.  We’re tracking most of it, I think.

And I should know this why? Kris thought dryly.

There seems to be some serious action on the streets around us, admiral.  It started when that vanguard rig blew out four tires.  Not your usual coincidence.

No, not really.

It’s escalating.  Someone bent some serious metal crunching their rig against one of our gun trucks as it made the turn onto this road.  Now shots have been exchanged.

Kris listened for small arms fire, but there were soft chimes playing in the background inside the limo and she heard nothing else at the moment.  Outside, her limo moved along at a reasonable speed surrounded by gun trucks two deep.

A third layer was in the process of being added.

Kris eyed Ron, but he seemed intent on studying the ceiling.

Kris chose to meditate on the ceiling as well.

Her reflections came to an abrupt halt when one of the red trucks ahead took a rocket hit to its middle and rolled over several times before coming to a stop up against a tall, thick tree shading the boulevard.  Quickly a dozen Iteeche Marines tumbled out, guns at the ready.

As if it hadn’t happened, the convoy rolled right on by them.

Kris gave Ron a mental count to five, then blurted out.  “Why are we not getting off this street?”

“It is the most propitious boulevard to take us to the Imperial Presence,” Ron said, as if that settled everything.

“It’s a predictable path that will get us killed before we get there.  Get off it.”

Ron looked dumbfounded.

“Marine,” Kris snapped and Nelly translated into Iteeche, “tell your convoy to follow our movements.”

The Iteeche Marine looked at Kris, then back at Ron and finally at Kris again.

“Do as she says,” Ron snapped.

“Megan, get in the front seat and have the driver get off this road,” Kris ordered, then added as explanation to Ron.  “This has worked for us when someone started shooting at us.  Go where they aren’t expecting us.”

In the front seat, Megan was issuing orders for a right turn.  In front of Kris, the Iteeche Marine was barking orders into a very human looking wrist unit.  Kris held on tight as the limo took a hard right, barely missing the escort that had only started to open up space for them to swerve.  They sped off the wide boulevard and into a neighborhood crammed with ramshackle buildings of four or five stories that overhung the narrow side street.

One of the trucks with US Marines on board sped past Kris’s rig, taking the lead.  More fell in behind her.  They did two more hard turns and came to a dead halt.

They’d zoomed out of the shaded narrow lane and onto another broad boulevard.  On a grassy knoll across from then, beside a spiraling high rise hulked four track-laying, tank-like vehicles.  Their huge guns looked to be aimed right down Kris’s throat.

“Does it work like this for you often?” Ron asked, and if a creature of the ocean could say something dryly, his words were pure salt and sand.  “Those green and blue flags they fly tell me they are from my Eminent Choosers worst enemy.”

Chapter 37

For a moment, Kris just gawked at the tanks.

The gawking was returned; the tankers looked just as surprised as she was.  Some were out of their vehicles, a few lounged on the ground.  Others sat or stood on their behemoth.

For a long moment, no one gave an order.

“Turn right.  Turn right,” Megan shouted from the front seat.  Her computer shouted the same in Iteeche.

After an eternity of hesitation, the driver did, then gunned the limo.

“Zig Zag,” Kris shouted.  Nelly translated just as loud.

The driver began to whip the steering wheel right, then a few seconds later left.

One of the tanks must have been more alert than the others.  The turret turned out of train, its long barrel depressed.  It fired.

A huge hole appeared in the pavement to the left of Kris’s rig.  They would have been there if her driver hadn’t zigged right a second earlier.

Behind Kris, her Marines went into action.  Those in rented and dilapidated trucks cut the canvas covering off the truck beds.  Others got windows down and leaned out of them with grenade launchers at the ready.

“Pop smoke,” Kris ordered.  Major Puller passed the order along before Kris finished saying it.  The soft wompf of grenades being fired was music to Kris’s ears.

Some grenades were wisely aimed short.  They hit the deck, exploded and began to fill the boulevard with clouds of many colored smokes.  Other grenades were lobbed further out, closer to the tanks.  Others grenadiers shot flares at the deck.  They slid along the street, hissing and sparking.  A few were aimed high and popped parachute flares into the air above them which sent showers of many colored sparks cascading down.

The hostile tanks disappeared behind the swirling smoke.  The flares made thermal vision worthless.

“Get us out of here,” Kris ordered.  “Nelly, get us some eyes in the sky.”

“I’m peeling them off the sedan chairs.  Good thing I provided you with a communications relay station in each one.”

Kris didn’t bother asking Ron if nano scouts were allowed in the Imperial Precincts and moments later a vision from above was forming in her head.

“Megan, you getting this?”

“I got it.  Go right,” the lieutenant ordered the driver.

A few blocks ahead of them, a trio of vehicles suddenly coalesced into a road block.

“Left now and step on it,” Megan ordered.

Kris worked to get a handle on her situation.  Behind her, the beanstalk rose high.  Around her, buildings of silver and glass shot up into twisting spires.  Most were surrounded by broad promenades and wide boulevards.  Other streets showed many-storied buildings of red brick with narrow roads between them.

As more trucks roared into the streets, many showing weapons at the window or top gunner’s position.  Quite a few of them were not on Kris’s side.  The smaller two- and three-wheeled scooters she’d seen before scurried off to disappear down the ramps into the basement of the closest high rise.

When elephants dance and stomp, mice best run and hide.

“We’re under observation from those tall buildings,” Jack concluded.  “We need more smoke and we need it out farther.”

“Major Puller, do your Marines have Iteeche translators?”

“About half of them.”

“Ron, I want to pair some of your Marines or household troops with some of my Marine grenadiers to lay down a serious fog blanket.”

“Some of our troops can fire smoke grenades too.”

“Here’s what I want to do.”

A minute later, trucks loaded with US and Imperial Marines peeled off to the left even as the main convoy took a hard right.  The detachments disappeared into several basement garages.

Quickly, a wave of small scooters rolled out of those high rises.  Since the driver usually owned the scooter, a civilian Iteeche drove.  A human and an Iteeche trooper rode behind him, rifles and grenade launchers at the ready.

While the main convoy zigged and zagged, the scooters headed in every possible direction, popping smoke and sending up flares.

Beside Kris, Jack shook his head.  “I don’t think they’re going to be able to see us, honey, but our sky spies aren’t all that effective, either.  You’ve created a game of Blind Man’s Bluff.”

“So I have, Dear, but they’re the ones with the big, honking, long guns.  Our anti-tank grenades are short-ranged and can likely only damage one of them.  Take out a road wheel, maybe, but not a turret.  No, I like a game where everybody’s blind and I can bluff to my heart’s content.”

While Kris still had eyes in the sky, she dogged across one wide boulevard and disappeared into a wren of older, shorter buildings that half overhung the street.

“Nelly, pick six routes out of the smoke that will take us to the Imperial Precincts and get scooters out, smoking those streets.  Have them put some automatic weapons fire into the air.”

“Not that close to the Imperial Presence,” Ron snapped.

“Okay, fire into the deck.  Low power, but make noise.”

“I’ve sent the orders.”

“Now, Nelly, find us a seventh route.”

“You humans are so sneaky,” Nelly muttered, but a seventh route appeared in Kris’s head.

“Send it to Megan, Nelly.  Lieutenant, feel free to zig and zag, but head us there.”

The map in Kris’s head showed the streets with a fine grid laid over it.  Within each grid square, scooters made noise, laid down smoke and popped flares.  There were occasional clashes when a scooter rounded a corner and discovered a tank sharing the street with it a thousand meters away.  Most of the time, the scooter skedaddled before things got lethal.

A tank and a gun truck crossed paths; the US Marines in the gun truck were only too happy to let the tank have the street.  The tank, however, decided to hunt down the offending gun truck.

Bad call.

When the human Marines discovered someone was stupid enough to consider them game, they turned the tables on the tank.

As soon as the gun truck rounded the next corner and was out of the tank’s line of sight, the US and Iteeche Marines bailed out and sent the mounts on their way with their best wishes.  The Marines of both flavor then went to ground in and around the crumbling buildings.

When the tank rounded the corner in hot pursuit of the fleeing gun truck, the Marines showered it with short ranged rockets that could hardly put a dent in the tank’s main armor.

Its road wheels and tracks were a different matter.

The tank ran right off its shattered tracks and ended up, like a beached whale, rapidly going nowhere.

It wasn’t over that quickly.  The tank had two machine guns in the turret, one forward, one aft.  The turret continued to whirl around, spraying fire at anything that moved.

The Marines smoked it bad, then cautiously approached it, settling in beside it, well out of reach of the machine guns and waiting for the chatter of the guns to calm down.

Once peace and quiet broke out, the Marines offered the tank crews two choices: they could come out nicely, or the Marines could ignite the engine compartment and burn the tank.

Kris watched the battle develop out of the corner of her eye.  She was not at all surprised when the abashed tankers climbed out.  She was even less surprised when the US Marines suggested that all of them, tankers and both flavors of Marines adjourn to the nearest bar.

Kris dismissed their departure with a shrug.  They’d earned their brew.

She, however, had a date with the Emperor and time was running out.

Her convoy was zigging and zagging its way laterally across the map, heading for another boulevard that would take her in the back gate.  She had scouts out to smoke her path and protect her from observation, but not so far that she couldn’t get a good view of what was on the roads ahead of her.  She was doing a pretty good job; they were now on streets where traffic still moved.   The look of dismay on drivers as the armed convoy gunned through them told Kris a lot about what life must normally be like in the capital.

They were picking up speed, shooting down a boulevard, heading for a turn-off.

Four honking big tanks in hostile colors rolled up the ramp from a garage under two buildings on opposite sides of the street and not a thousand meters from Kris’s limo.

“Get out of here,” Kris yelled.

“I can’t,” Meg shouted back.  “No streets.

“Go cross country.  Everyone, lay smoke.”

Smoke grenades were popping everywhere, but the tanks already had them in their sights.

The pavement ahead of Kris’s limo exploded.  The driver tried to avoid it, but the passenger side of the rig went into the gaping hole in the road.  The limo listed, but then hit the other side of the hole and flipped over, tail over nose.

Thank God I didn’t bring the kids, was Kris’s last thought.

Chapter 38

Kris regained consciousness to the harsh rubbing of her cheek against the rough wool of Jack’s dress Red and Blues.  She was slung over his back as he ran low.

She coughed; the air was thick with smoke and cordite as well as burning rubber.  One quick glance, even from the bouncing viewpoint of Jack’s back, showed her burning limo a good twenty meters away.  There were a few shot-up trucks nearby, but the smoke limited her world to nearly nothing as it swirled in multicolored tendrils.

The smoke was thick, choking thick.

Lieutenant Longknife was only a pace behind her, covering their withdrawal with the occasional smoke grenade she pulled from a shoulder bag.

Where did that come from?  She’d have to ask the surprising Longknife later.

“Let me down,” Kris ordered.

Jack tumbled to the ground and gently spreading her out.  Then he rolled away from Kris, but kept his body between her and the thickest of the smoke.  The occasional rattle of machine gun fire told her a tank lurked deep within that smog bank.

Marines, both US and Iteeche were down.  Some screamed in agony; others struggled to minister to these in worse need no matter their species. Kris forced herself to not count their numbers.

Not now.

“We need to kill that tank,” she concluded.

A loud explosion from that direction told her someone had just taken a swing at doing that.  The immediate chatter of machine gun fire verified the failure of the effort.

There were other explosions, some close, others more distant.

“Nelly, what’s happening?”

“Our eyes in the sky are useless at the moment.  There’s smoke everywhere.  What I can tell you is that there’s a lot of shooting.  Sometimes our light infantry catches a tank before it knows we’re out there.  Then things go badly for the tank.  Other times, like just happened to you, the tanks catch us by surprise.  Then it doesn’t go well with us.  The fighting seems to be even, but you’re not getting any closer to the Emperor just lying here.”

“No, I’m not,” Kris said, spotting several Marines huddled beside an overturned truck.  “Let’s get ourselves some real weapons,” she said and pointed Jack that way.

She and Jack crawled to them on elbows and knees.  Meg took the lead, keeping herself between them and the tank.

All the Marines were injured.  The Iteeche were hurt bad; the twenty-two millimeter slugs had stitched them badly and they had no body armor to speak of.  The US Marines, thanks to Kris’s spidersilk armor were better off, but not by much.   The heavy rounds might not have sliced through to flesh and blood, but the energy smashed bone; arms and legs lay twisted.  One Marine was coughing up blood, his chest flailed badly.

Beside the truck, one Marine, her left arm in a sling, fired smoke grenades when the smog seemed to thin.  Another crawled, his shattered right leg dragging, between the wounded, doing his best to care for them, be they human or Iteeche.

“Does the tank always fire high?” Kris asked the Marine grenadier.

She shook her head.  “No ma’am.  Sometimes she’s high.  Then she sweeps us low.  I think she’s trying to play games with us.  Bloody four-eyed bastards.”

Kris allowed the less than diplomatic comment, and turned to look for something of use.  A plan was forming in her mind.

Two human M-6 rifles leaned up against the bed of the truck, but it didn’t look like the weapon to take to a tank fight.  The Iteeche weapons were more interesting.

Several of them had been bounced around when the truck flipped.  One looked like a longer version of our rifle, with a long, permanently attached, bayonet.  Kris scowled at that bit of psychology.  It was the other type that got her attention.  It was a bit longer than the rifle and its pig sticker.  Its tube was a gaping maw, nearly a hand wide, say 100 millimeters.  The sights were pretty basic; line up a front sight located on the side of the barrel mouth with the circular rear sight and fire.  The handle looked to function also as the magazine holder.

One depressed button on the hand hold and a magazine dropped into Kris’s palm.  From a clear strip running down the back of the affair, she could easily see that two rounds had been fired but five more were ready.  She popped one out and studied it.

It looked like a rocket.  It had markings in Iteeche on it that said nothing to Kris.  She scowled at the rocket and her general situation.

An Iteeche with his back up against the truck bed said something.

“Kris, I think you just got told girls shouldn’t play with boys’ toys,” Nelly told her.

Kris weighted her options, but since an Iteeche Marine had risked what little air he had to say something, Kris chose her words diplomatically.

“But this girl likes playing with boy toys.  It’s fun blowing shit up.”

Her translated words drew something like laughs from all the wounded Iteeche.  It caused several to be swept by spasms of coughing.  Coughing that sent blood spewing from their mouths.

One wounded Iteeche struggled to loosen a pouch in his web gear.  Kris went to help him.

“I think he says the grenades that the launcher has now are smoke.  These are the real shit,” Nelly said.

“You aren’t about to do what I think you’re about to do,” Jack said, coming back from where he’d been studying the situation over the Marine grenadier’s shoulder.

“You’ve known me long enough to know damn well what I’m about to do, Jack . . . and forget it.  There’s no place for you to lock me up.”

“Damn woman,” Jack said, and picked up another Iteeche rocket launcher for himself.

“The yellow rounds are smoke,” Kris said.  “I don’t know what color.  The white rounds are like anti-tank, or so he told me.”

Jack checked his present load, found it smoke, and looked around for something more deadly.  Another Iteeche began struggling to detach his pouch.  The Marine life saver detached it for him and handed it to Jack.

“Heavy damn thing,” he said.

Jack tried to attach the pouch to his belt, but it wasn’t made to fit.  The Marine taking care of the wounded pulled web gear off of an Iteeche who was long past pain and handed it to Jack.  An Iteeche belt quickly became a shoulder strap for a human.

Lieutenant Longknife just shook her head, muttered something about damn Longknifes and went down the line quickly, selecting a rocket launcher and swapping her satchel of smoke grenades for a sack of rocket magazines.

While Jack had been making his final preparation, Kris had decided on a test of concept.  Laying prone, with the weapon pointed at an angle to protect her rear from as much back blast as possible, she squeezed off a round at the burning limo.

The explosion was noisy and what was left of the limo flew far and wide.

“So, Longknife, how do you want to do this?”

Kris tasted the way Jack’s words demoted her from admiral or even wife to just one of those damn Longknifes.

“Marine, you got any explosives for your pop gun?” Kris asked the grenadier.

“Yes, ah, Admiral, I got general purpose demolition charges as well as anti-tank for all the good it’s been doing me.”

“Okay, here’s what I want you to do.  Keep the smoke up, but not too thick.  Toss explosive grenades off to the right of where you think the tank is.  I want its attention over there.  Us crazy Longknifes and the general are going to head out from the left-hand side of this truck and crawl until we see the damn thing.  Hopefully we’ll be coming up on the opposite side from where you’re dropping grenades.  Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am, but Admiral, shouldn’t I be the one going tank hunting and you stay behind here?” said the wounded Marine.

“Ah, from the mouths of privates,” Jack grumbled.

“What, and let you have all the fun?” Kris shot back, giving Jack a dirty look as she spoke.  “It’s been years since I got to blow up any shit.  I’m pulling rank, private.”

The private looked Kris up and down like she was crazy, but what could you expect from officers?

A new burst of machine gun fire drew the Marine’s attention back front.  She lobbed a smoke grenade, then, before it could really do much good, yanked out her magazine, popped in a different one, and fired a second grenade.  It landed in the middle distance with a nice boom.  The grenadier measured her range and sent a second round out.  It exploded just short of the smog bank.

Rapid bursts of machine gun fire answered the explosions, but none of them stitched the ground in Kris’s view.

“Let’s see how this works,” Kris said, and lead the way toward the other end of the truck.

“Can I at least go first?” Jack said.

“Of course, Love,” Kris said.

But it was Megan who quickly slung the Iteeche weapon over her shoulder before slipping down.  She took a peek out from behind the bottom of the truck, then began low crawling out to the left.

Jack waited until she was a good twenty meters out, then settled down on his belly and began the same slow process.  Left last in line, Kris decided, rather than slinging the Iteeche rocket launcher over her back, she’d cradle it in her elbows and inch forward, one elbow, then another.

It didn’t take her long to realize she’d spent way too much time behind a desk.

She was soon sweating and breathing hard.

Megan moved with the grace of a snake.  Jack might not have the young woman’s grace, but he kept up a steady pace.  Not about to call it quits, Kris took in deep breaths and kept putting one elbow forward, then the other.

Off to her right she could hear the occasional explosion of a Marine grenade.  Other explosions came from all around interspersed with cannon and machine gun fire.  Defiant single shots from M-6's showed that the Marines were still active and not about to give up.

Kris kept crawling.  The air stank and irritated her nose and lungs, still she refused to cough.  Rather she choked up ugly colored phlegm.  Her eyes watered, making it hard for her to see much in the smog.

“Nelly, could you get me some spy eyes down here?  They may not be able to see much through this smog, but I can’t either.”

“I’m bringing a dozen down.  Give me a minute, I’ll have them home on the next burst of machine gun fire, then search us out.”

A long moment later, Nelly was back in Kris’s head.  “Here’s what we’re making out.”

The tank appeared to be two hundred meters or so off to Kris’s right.  The scouts showed that at least one of its tracks was shattered.

That’s not going anywhere, Jack commented on Nelly Net.

Nope, Kris agreed.  But neither are we.

Any idea how good these rock throwers are?

No idea at all, Jack, but I don’t want to spoil all your Marine’s good work keeping them fixated in the opposite direction.

Yeah, I guess we need to get closer.

If Kris didn’t know better, she might hear exhaustion in Jack’s words.

They crawled for another half eternity.  Kris began to make out a solid blur in the smoke off to her right.

You see it, Jack?

Nelly, is that our target?

Definitely.

Kris, Meg, let’s spread out and see what kind of mess we can make of it.

Two more explosions drew rapid cannon fire to Kris’s right rear.  Single shots answered it, yipping like a terrier puppy with no good sense.  The main gun roared, but what damage it did was lost in the smoke.

The three of them swung around, heads toward the tank.  Kris stretched her arms out, then got them around the alien weapon.  Nothing really fit; it was sized to hands and fingers so much larger than hers.

Ready when you are, Jack said.

Me too, echoed Megan.

Fire two rounds, then check out what we’ve accomplished, Kris ordered.  Fire on three.  One.  Two.  Three.

Kris pulled the trigger.  There was a whoompf of back blast behind her.  Far too slowly, the weapon reloaded.  She pulled the trigger again.

This time, nothing happened.

I’ve got a jam, she reported on Nelly Net.

Ignore it.  I’ll fire three.

You’ll get spotted.

They’ll be dead.

Jack and Megan got off a second round at the tank.  Both hit, but the tank just shrugged them off as if nothing bothered it.  The turret now rumbled as it turned to face its new attacker.

Kris found what looked like a small crow bar on the weapons beside the sight.  She popped the magazine out, detached the pry bar and attacked the bulky round that was hung up in her weapons breach.

Beside her, Jack fired a third round.

Mine jammed this time, too, was Megan’s report on net.

Look for a pry bar by your sights, Kris told her.

Got it.

Two hundred meters ahead of them, the machine cannon began to fire.  Shells hit the deck ahead of Kris, but the gunner was rapidly getting their range as Jack fired a fourth round.

It hit the tank’s mantle, right next to the machine cannon, but the damn thing just kept rattling away.

Then there was a roar behind Kris.  Something whooshed over her head and the tank blew up.  Its turret flew into the air to do lazy flips before falling to earth.

Behind Kris, a new tank rumbled into view.

I don’t know which side that puppy’s on, but sure I hope it’s ours, Jack observed as dryly as Nelly Net allowed.

Chapter 39

Kris jammed a new magazine into her now cleared rocket launcher, then stood, trying to hold the tube in a non-threatening manner . . . but at the ready.  Beside her, Jack and Meg were doing their best to do the same.

The tank ground to a halt.  Its turret stayed aimed at the burning wreckage before it.  Kris tried to believe that was a good sign.  Then the hatch atop the turret creaked open and an Iteeche appeared.

“That you, Ron?” Kris called, not quite able to make out her friend without some of his robes showing.

“It’s me.  My Chooser’s household guards took their time, but they are here.”

Ron got his head up higher and Kris could now make out his official court dress, if a bit wrinkled.  “There’s a troop transport back there.  Get in.  We’ve got a deadline to meet, and I do mean dead line.”

Kris and her team trotted to the open back door of an eight-wheeled armored box and were quickly invited inside by a house guardsman in full body armor.  Settling in place, Kris smiled at the Iteeches across from her while she thought furiously.

Nelly, what’s our situation?

Amazingly improved, Kris, came with a vision of a map of the blocks around Kris’s vehicle.  Yep, there were tanks and infantry deployed on every street corner.  Here and there, other tanks burned furiously, but nothing new blew up.

You think we were played? Jack asked.

One could wonder how the cavalry managed to arrive just in the nick of time, Kris agreed.  We know we’ve been dropped down in the big middle of a civil war without a program to tell the players much less to figure out what our best move is.  Later, I’ll throttle Ron.  For now, let’s just enjoy being alive.

Jack scowled, but said nothing.  He did fold his arms and stare at the overhead.

The inside of a track was no place for a serious conversation, not even if one wasn’t surrounded by strangers and who knew how many recording devices.

Nelly, how bad are our losses?  Do we have anyone handling our casualties?

Gunny has a call into Captain Moore.  He’s got permission from the Iteeche guards at the pier to bring an emergency services team down here pronto.  Still, it will take a good hour before they get here.  There are some Iteeche first responders on the scene.  Our medics are getting some help from them, but they don’t have blood or any of the supplies we need more of.

“Damn,” was all Kris could say or do about any of this.  Yes, her team had deployed with med techs, but they hadn’t expected a street fight.

“Next time we’re invited down here, Jack, I want a full battalion, reinforced with a heavy weapons company and a battalion aid station,” Kris had to shout to be heard.

“Duly logged and annotated,” he answered through tight lips.

The map in Kris’s head showed their convoy speeding down the boulevard with tanks and other tracks joining in ahead or falling behind as they passed cross streets.  On the next two boulevards over, more tanks ground along, protecting their flank.

Kris could only fume.  Why didn’t we have this level of protection before?  Who was using us for bait and what were they out to catch?

Using my neck!

The column rolled up to a bridge across a wet moat.  A grey stone curtain wall built of massive stones rose up on the far bank of the moat.  A ponderous gate with many towers led into a wonderland of ponds and gardens.  A huge stone building rose at least two klicks away.

Kris’s armored personal carrier squealed to a halt and the rear doors opened on hinges that hadn’t been oiled in recent memory.  The sun streamed in, leaving Kris blinking against the light.

“There, that wasn’t all that much trouble, now was it,” a beaming Ron said, standing out in the sun, his court raiment now iridescent in the natural sunlight.

“Your cavalry could have timed their arrival a bit better,” Kris allowed herself to grouse.

“But where would be all the fun in it if they weren’t arriving just when all hope seemed lost.”

“Someday, when we have more time, you must tell me just what sort of smart ass game you and your chooser were playing with my fair neck.”

Two house guards in green and grey almost dropped their rifles as Nelly translated this exchange, but they kept their eyes front.  All eight of them.

From a truck, Kris’s porters were unloading her and Jack’s sedan chairs.  They quickly got themselves back in harness and trotted over to where Kris and Jack awaited them.

“Lieutenant Longknife, you stay here.  Have everyone report to you as if you were my chief of staff.  I want to know what’s been done about our wounded the moment I get back here.

“Yes, Admiral,” Megan said, saluting.

Kris straightened the jacket of her dress blues and tried to work out some of the wrinkles as she dusted it off a bit.  It still looked like she’d crawled her way across a dusty road.

“You won’t be going into His Worshipful’s presence looking like that,” was not a question from Ron.

“Is there time to get my uniform dry cleaned?”

“No, and we are in grave danger of being late as it is.  My chooser has already gone ahead to assure that he does not offend The Worshipful One.”

Giving a strong hint that Ron and Kris, or maybe just Kris, was expendable if off schedule.

“Nelly, can you get nanos to dust me off?”

“Yes, Kris.  We’ll take out the creases, too.  And you don’t have to just stand here while I’m doing it.”

Kris waved for her sedan chair.  Even as she was boarding it, she could hear the soft hum of nanos and see as her dress blues and fruit salad lost their wrinkles and dull brown overtone.

Chapter 40

The Imperial Precincts were breathtaking.

Her Royal Highness, Grand Admiral Kris Longknife and her Marine general escort, and consort, were carried in their palanquins across a gray stone bridge to where guards in deathly white stood.  An officer spoke briefly with Ron, looked askance at the two humans, and then ordered a half dozen Iteeche warriors in white wielding long pole weapons with wickedly long blades to step aside.

In the shadow of the gate several dozen well-armed and armored guards in black held their very modern weapons at the ready.  Kris glanced behind her.  Lieutenant Longknife, the sole member of her honor guard to make it this far, stood at attention, facing the gate.

Kris strongly suspected that that would be exactly the way she found the lieutenant when she got back.

Assuming I get back.

Through the gate, Ron urged his porters to speed, and they broke into a trot.  Kris didn’t have to tell hers to pick up the pace.

I wonder how many of us will have to take poison if I’m late?

From the rapid pace of her carriers, she suspected there would be plenty of poison to go around if it came to that.

But Kris knew that her worry now could not do a damn thing to change their fate.  So, she allowed herself to put on her tourist hat and gawk at the court on display around her.

The path they trod was cobblestoned with rounded stones of every color.  It wound through ponds and gentle knolls covered in flowers of every hew and color.  Here were soft pastels.  There, were brilliant primary colors.  It was enough to take Kris’s breath away.

Nelly, can you thin out the screens and give me a better view without showing me off?

Done, Kris, and the filaments covering the windows of her traveling chair grew thinner, giving Kris a gold tinted view of the world around her.

For a long five minutes, Kris was carried through this carefully sculpted wonderland.  All too soon, they passed from the gardens to a square that stretched empty, paved in small stones of agate and jasper.  Kris blinked twice before she spotted the pattern.  All the stones, taken together, pictured waves on a gently tossed ocean.  Here and there were even crystals of many different colors sparkled in the sun like foam on the sea.

Lovely.

If we weren’t in such a hurry to get to our own funerals, we could really enjoy this, Jack drawled over Nelly Net.

It’s a nice distraction, don’t you think?

More important is what you think, dear.

I think it’s sad that the people who live here probably never notice all the work that went into this.

Likely.  So, what are you thinking?

That doubtlessly there will be a surprise at the end of this rainbow and I don’t want to overthink it.

Jack somehow managed to answer that with a grunt on net.

They were getting close to the building that appeared to be in the center of the Palace grounds.  It was approached by a tall bank of long, low steps.  Kris was jostled about as the ride got a bit rough.  It didn’t keep her from taking in the Palace they approached.  A tall, windowless wall made of huge blocks of a dazzling white marble rose straight up to an overhanging roof of buttressed red wood.  At the corners rose solid blocks of black stone that quickly turned into gossamer spirals of silver and gold.  Kris could hardly gaze upon them.

There’s plenty of manned cannons and artillery in those towers, Nelly informed Kris.  My nanos are being shouldered aside by some pretty big bruisers.  Not nearly our level of tech, but good enough that I’m going to have to start a war if I want those nanos in the Palace.

Thanks for the warning, gal, but no wars.  Remember, Nelly does not start wars.

I remember, Kris, her computer drawled in her head.

Huge doors, a good five meters across and maybe twenty-five tall, were hauled open by bare Iteeche in beautifully colored tattoos.  Maybe a dozen pulled each door.  As they opened, another dozen came into view, straining their backs against them.

I wonder what they do in their spare time? Jack asked.

Kris rolled her eyes at the idea.  Clearly, the Iteeche went in for a lot of back-breaking labor, just look at her porters.  Again, here was a data point for her about this court she was to be accredited to in a few minutes.

Inside, the Palace appeared to be one huge cavern.  Just how big it might be was impossible to tell.  Thousands of banners streamed from the ceiling.  Each was two to three meters wide and easily fifty meters long.  Still, each waved lazily to a gentle zephyr.

Are those waving in the breeze or are they creating the breeze? Kris asked Nelly.

I can’t tell you for sure, Kris, but I think the fiber in the banners is flexing itself.  We have something like it.  I think it’s making the gentle wind you’re feeling.

The air inside was cool and pleasant on Kris’s skin.  Considering the heavy wool of her uniform, she was grateful for that.  The porters hurried through the forest of banners, leaving the white marble walls behind them.  The floor their bare feet padded across was white stone as well, seamed with silver.

Nelly, the banners seem to have designs woven into them.  Can you make anything out?”

Kris, I cannot recognize a pattern to their hanging.  However, I may have identified something like the planetary seal for one of the planets we captured during the Iteeche war and gave back.

SO, these could be planetary banners, Jack put in.  That would account for the forest of them.  They have almost three thousand at last count.

I think there are more banners than three thousand, Jack.  Nelly, try to pick up any pattern you can with the banners and match it to anything we know about the Iteeche.

They came to the end of the forest of waving cloth.  Now they faced a vast expanse of gleaming marble.  A great distance away, a platform of sea blue stone rose in front of them, approachable only by steep steps.  What was up there was hidden behind tall latticed screens of silver and gold that also fluttered in the breeze . . . or maybe created it.

All that was interesting, but the immediate problem was a half dozen old men, each dressed in a primary color: white, green, red, blue, yellow and black.  Arrayed in a crescent behind them stood two dozen of the biggest Iteeche Kris had ever laid eyes on . . . or heard of from her Grampa Trouble.  The normal Iteeche would reach seven feet or more.  These started at eight feet and went up from there.  Backing up their imposing height were thickly muscled arms and legs.  They wore golden kilts at their loins.  Their white skin was tattooed in blue geometric patterns that emphasized the bulge of their muscles.

Each held one huge grounded pole-axe in their right hand.  Huge as in tall as well as huge blades. They gleamed wickedly sharp.

These armed Iteeche looked ready, willing, and able to slice and dice any transgressing Iteeche to sushi.

They looked only too eager to hack a human into chum.

Kris resisted the strong temptation to go for the service automatic nestled at the small of her back.  She did wish that she had not switched it to less lethal sleepy darts.

Ron slowly dismounted from his sedan chair.  He walked up to the first Iteeche, who stepped aside, giving Ron a clear view to the Imperial blue rock.  There Ron got down on his hands and knees and bent his head to the ground.

Kris had always wondered how an Iteeche knelt.  What with eight knees and eight elbows, it looked to be a complicated process.  Now she got to watch it in the flesh.

Ron went down on the first knees of his two forward legs, letting the other two legs trail out straight behind him.  He then put his two center hands on the deck and went down on the first pair of elbows.  He kept his other two hands at his side.

That done, he lowered his forehead to the deck and stayed that way.

Kris dismounted and motioned Jack to come up a step behind her and outboard.  She marched up to stand beside where Ron kowtowed, then bowed from the waist in the direction of the Emperor.  She held the low bow for a long as she’d expect Grampa Ray would, then added an extra heartbeat, and stood back up.

She then added a nod toward the six multi-colored old dragons and took a step back.

Beside her, Jack had held the fine wooden box with Kris’s credentials in it throughout his own bow, like Kris’s, but deeper, and for a second longer.  He did not acknowledge the pompous road block.

There was a distinct stiffening among the brightly colored ones.  At least three of the axe men looked ready to pounce, but they held in place when no order was shouted.

The Iteeche in white spoke, addressing his words to Ron on his hands and knees, head still on the deck.

“Your Eminent Chooser said you would be dragging a piece of human excrement into His Worshipful Presence.  He did not tell me the piece of human excrement would be an arrogant heretic,” Nelly translated on net.

Still with his eyes focused on the deck, Ron answered, “Beware.  This human is the chosen of Raymond Longknife, Slayer of Worlds and Poisoner of Dreams.  She, herself has killed a trillion or more hostile aliens who scream after our blood.  Oh, and she understands every word you are saying.”

The white clad Iteeche’s gaze rose from Ron to Kris.  Kris hardened her eyes, thinned her lips and bestowed upon him The Look.

The Iteeche took a step back.  The vestigial gills along his neck flared and trembled.  His eyes, all four of them, grew wide and he uttered a slight gasp as he took a second step back.

Kris stood like a rock, eyes on the offending Iteeche, then whirled on her heels and boarded her sedan chair.  Jack did not scramble to keep up with her, but marched to his own drummer purposefully back to his own chair.

“Take us away from this pond scum,” Kris ordered her carriers.  Nelly, close down the windows.

I’m making them like gold mirrors.

Good.  They like their privacy.  Let’s see how they take to mine.

From outside, Kris could just make out low murmurs.

I think you really shocked them, Kris, Jack reported.

Are the axe guys making any moves?

Not before I closed down my windows.  Sal made mine silver.  Status.  Boy do these people like their status.

I’m having a hard time translating the prattling outside, Kris.  It’s not only in a low whisper but it looks like these folks talk some archaic dialect.  I can only track the half of it.

And the half of it is?

You scared them.  Really scared them.  A few think they owe it to the Emperor to take your head now.  Others don’t think they could.  Most just want you away from here.

And Ron?

He’s on his feet and getting back into his sedan chair.

Kris’s chair began to move.  Nelly, show me a picture.

A hologram appeared in front of her.  Ron’s chair led the way, his porters going to a trot.  Kris and Jacks followed in line behind him.  The two crescents of lethal axe wielders shuffled out to open wide around them.

Kris allowed herself a deep breath.

Chapter 41

Once they were well clear of that bunch, Kris had time to think.

First, she had Nelly open up her view again.  A glance around was clearly through gold-colored shades.  She needed a better look.  “Nelly, turn the top of this thing into a clear bubble.  I need a better view of this place.”

Nelly did.  One sweep of her surroundings and Kris couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open.

She’d been in some pretty big buildings.  Factory floors.  Hangars where they made shuttles.  She’d never seen anything this huge.

The ceiling far overhead sparkled with tiny stars.  Planets and moons of every soft color moved slowly around that celestial bowl.  The floor the porters padded across was paved with a myriad of small stones.  Some shone.  Others sparkled.  They were woven in patterns that showed a sea, here calm, other places tossed.  There were even islands.  Somehow the artist had made the flat surface appear three-dimensional with cliffs and woods.

And then there was the distance.  The walls all around disappeared in the shimmering forest of banners that they’d entered through.  Kris had to wonder if there were more entrances.  Did others cross this great plain from different angles?

Then, she had to adjust her entire perspective again.

Another group began to come in view.  This one was twice as large.  Six multi-colored dragons to the right, six to the left.  Well behind them was a row of large Iteeche with long, two-handed swords.  They were backed up by row upon row of huge Iteeche warriors with massive pole-axes.

Even at the pace Kris’s porters were trotting along on their four legs, it still took a while to get to them.

Nelly, how big can you make this sedan chair?

Pretty big.

When I say so, make mine as big and bejeweled and fancy as you can.  Oh, and the same for Jack.

Do you want to approve my redesign, Kris?

No, surprise me.

I’m so glad I tossed in extra Smart Metal when I knocked those things out.  This is going to be so much fun!

As they approached the next obeisance stop, Kris noticed her chair begin to rise until her personal cabin was carried well above the shoulders of the trotting Iteeche porters.

Don’t let me roll over, Nelly.

Don’t worry, Kris, you and Jack may be going up, but I’m also dropping down skids with outriggers.  The crew you got carrying you couldn’t toss you over if they wanted to.

Good.

Ron’s sedan chair came to a stop.  As he exited it, he glanced back Kris’s way, and came to a dead stop.  His mouth dropped open and his whole face went slack.

Behind him, a whole lot of faces were going slack.

Nelly was having her fun.

Kris’s sedan grew spires that climbed and spun like seaweed in the ocean’s current.  The door panels flowed out in broad curves that fully circled the traces the porters stood in, but swelled out three or four times farther.

All of this glinted with what looked like gold, and silver inset with pearls, rubies, emerald and diamonds.

How do I get out of this contraption, Nelly?

Well, I could have your chair glide down or you can stand up and I’ll have an escalator take you down.

Let’s go with an escalator, Kris said, standing and finding that even her six-foot frame had room to spare within her luxurious land yacht.

A door to her right opened, she stepped out onto a golden platform, and it smoothly lowered her down a shallow incline.  Down, she strode up to Ron.

“Don’t we need to keep this show on the road?”

He’d been staring open mouth at Kris’s entrance.  Now he closed his mouth.

“Yes,” he said, and turned to take his proper place before the dozen colorful old Iteeche.  Again, he went down on his hands and knees, though this time he used the second knee and elbow, bringing his torso even closer to the ground.  It was easier to bring his forehead to the deck.

Kris waited until he was down, then with a ONE.  TWO.  THREE, on Nelly Net to coordinate with Jack, she bent into her own bow.  She held it a moment longer this time, assuming that since she was closer she should be more respectful.  When she reached her time limit, she stood tall, with Jack coming back up a moment later.

Maybe they’d been warned by the first group, or maybe Nelly’s walking castle had impressed them.  It was also possible that this bunch was of another party that didn’t have such a low opinion of humans.  Whatever the reason, there was no discussion as Ron completed his duty to his Emperor and Kris showed her respects.

Everything done, Kris returned to her pavilion and the party was once again off.

Kris, you should have warned me that you were going to do something like that, Ron said, which reminded Kris that he did, indeed, have the occasional access to Nelly Net.

Ron, I just let Nelly surprise me.  Sorry, I’ll give you some warning next time.

I could have lost all kind of face with this bunch of old prunes.  As it is, we all just about lost our jaws together.  You are in Deep Water, human, be careful with that stuff.

What did you think of it? came from Nelly, clearly preening.

Absolutely spectacular, Nelly, absolutely spectacular.  Kris, can my iteeche Smart Metal do things like that?

Maybe, ask your own computers.

Oh, right.  That Magnificent Nelly thing again.

You bet it is, said the Magnificent Nelly herself.

Nelly trimmed some of the top hamper from Kris’s walking castle and turned the bubble around her once again clear.  They hurried across the plain, approaching what Kris had mistakenly taken for a raised platform.  Now she realized it was at least as tall as a two-story warehouse.  The steps she’d spotted from afar had steps cut into them.  And there were more people.  Guards in black uniforms with both axe and swords stood in formation, rank upon rank.  Backing them up were Iteeche in blue that matched the stone; they carried short muzzled machine cannons and long barreled rocket launchers.  Their helmets gave Kris to suspect the rest of their gear was full, modern battle armor.

While the guards with swords and pole-axes stood in their phalanxes, the rifle and grenadiers were scattered about in fire teams of four.

And everywhere there were advisors.  Older Iteeche in the solid colors Kris had yet to decipher.  There were plenty of white and greens, fewer of the red, blue, yellow and black.  Here and there were a spattering of the gray and gold uniforms that Kris knew were worn by Navy officers as well as a few in the bright red and silver of Marines.

The colorful crowd had been milling around with no visible purpose, but as Kris’s walking pavilion approached, and got even more garish as the spiraling towers turned to leaping dolphins and diving birds above her, they all slowly turned to take her in.

All talk ceased as Ron’s sedan chair came to a halt.  Once again, Kris and Jack did their entrance even as Ron slowly paced off the distance to where three plush and colorful rugs lay.  On each, just right for the bowed head of an Iteeche, was a tasseled pillow.

Someone call ahead? Jack asked.

It is normal here, Ron put in.  We are expected to stay obsequious until invited by His Worshipful One’s Lord of Household to rise.  He’s the guy in gold cloth.

Lead on, Kris said.

Ain’t gonna happen.

Ron went down on all four legs and all four arms, using different elbows on each to support his body just off the mat.  He rested his head on the pillow and seemed ready to wait out the head honcho.

Kris marched up to the middle of the rug.  She eyed the guy in gold, and again did her bow from the waist in the direction Ron was laid out toward.  She held it a few seconds longer than last time, then stood up straight and looked the golden household boss straight in the eyes.

They stared at each other for a long minute.  Then another one.

Kris held herself at attention, her hands at her side.  She could feel sweat trickling down between her shoulder blades, past her bra.  Her finger itched for the trigger of her issued automatic that nestled in the small of her back like an adder, eager to be loosed.

She didn’t move a muscle.

“You are late,” the Lord of the Household spat at Kris.  Nelly said nothing, but translated it in her head.

“We were inconvenienced by someone’s inability to keep peace within the shadow of Your Emperor’s abode.  You should look to improving matters.” Kris said, and Nelly translated.

“He was talking to me,” Ron said from his place, face down on the ground.

“He was looking at me,” Kris answered.

“Poorly chosen one, have you failed to explain to your uneducatable human that they are not allowed to speak in the presence of The Most Worshipful One?”

Before Ron could open his mouth, Kris was speaking.  “I am the invited emissary of King Raymond of the United Society.  I speak for him as an equal to anyone who would invite him into their presence.  If your Emperor does not wish to speak with my King, then I will leave you to your own devices.  I assume, of course, that you speak for your Emperor when you say he does not want to talk with me,” Kris said, her words hard and bitten off sharp.  Then she turned around and headed back to her traveling pavilion.

She’d just gotten to the escalator when a strong voice spoke.

“You really tossed your own guts along with the chum into the shark tank with that one,” it said.

Kris turned to find a short Iteeche in Navy grey and gold talking, half to the Lord of the Household, half to her.  He fingered his chin with one hand while his body swayed back and forth between the honcho in gold and Kris.

Kris paused, waiting to see what the Iteeche would do next.  Jack continued his slow-paced march back to his garish traveling platform.  When he reached the escalator, Kris gave him a slight wave of her hand and he paused, ornate wooden box still held out before him.

“Let her go,” the Lord of the Household snapped.  “Look at her.  She doesn’t belong here.”

“But she has been invited here.  You and I know why.  Do you really think The Worshipful One will be pleased with you barring her way when this comes to his eyes?  If I were you, I’d be careful what cup wiggles into my bed.”

Kris, that’s not only a possible threat that the Emperor might order him to make a most sincere apology by snake bite, I think, from what we’re picking up from telecast programs, I think that it’s also a perversion.  Some disreputable Iteeche seemed to like to sleep with snakes even though it is illegal.

Enough Nelly.  I know there’s a nasty fight going on here.

“It is already too late.  She has missed her appointed time,” snapped the household honcho.

“Ah, yes, so she has.  However, you know as well as I that Our Worshipful One reserved the entire morning for this Eminent Visitor from his Imperial cousin.  Don’t you think the wiser path would be to let him decide just who should make the formal apology?”

“Be it your head on the chopping block,” the gold clothed one snapped, turned on his heels and stalked off.

The Navy type turned to face Kris fully.  “May I suggest you use those two legs of yours and hasten into The Worshipful Presence. The clock is ticking off the seconds of your life.  Oh, and when you are done, you might look me up.  Admiral of the Grand Order of Iron Coth, at your service.”

He bowed low to Kris.  She returned it, if a bit less low.

Ron rose from where he’d kowtowed, then began to climb the stairs.  Kris and Jack joined him, leaving their sedan chairs behind and walking the final steps into the Emperor’s presence.

She left behind several advisors, mostly those in Marine red and silver, Navy gray and gold and others in yellow who watched her departure with curious eyes.  As for the others, they turned to each other and began to buzz like angry bees.

Ron, when this is done, you’ve got a whole lot of explaining to do.

I will try, Kris, but some of this is way above my paygrade as you might say.

They were now rapidly approaching the top of the blue stone structure.

I think as you humans say, it is showtime.

Chapter 42

At the top of the stairs, Kris was once again, surprised by what she saw.  The actual audience room was big, but not that big.  The area inside the twisting screens wasn’t much larger than the library at Nuu House.  The floor was a rare blue marble streaked with onyx and silver.  On a dais, approachable by six steep steps, was a large throne of delicately carved coral that was a soft pink.

On the throne sat a young Iteeche, maybe half as tall as a full grown one.

Ron, you never told me your Emperor was a kid.

Just another thing you forgot to ask me.  Now please be quiet, I’ve got to do my part in this ritual precisely and correctly.

With that, Ron went to join the two Iteeche already kowtowing to the throne.

There were three rugs laid out directly in front of the throne.  Two were occupied.  However, Ron skipped that one and went to bow behind and to the left of an Iteeche in robes that shimmered with every color of the rainbow.  His shimmered and sparkled the same as Ron’s.  The one on the other side also wore every color, but his were in darker hues and did not shimmer.

Strange how both can be so colorful, but one seems bright and cheery, the other dour and dull.  I hope that tells me something, Kris thought.

Ron went down on all eights, now using the elbows that got him as low as he could go.  Then, in a loud voice, he announced Kris as her King’s emissary.

“Oh, Most Worshipful One, please allow me to bring before you, for your pleasure, Her Royal Highness, Princess Kristine of the United Society, Chosen Royal Battle Fleet Commander of the mighty war clan Longknife, hammerer of the evil that strikes from the dark deep who comes as Emissary and Speaker for Humanity.”

On that, Kris stepped forward onto the rug beside the two kowtowing Iteeche and bowed herself low at the waist until she was parallel to the floor.  She held the bow for about as long as her back would let her, then stood tall.

“Your Imperial Majesty, I greet you in the name of His Royal Majesty, King Raymond, Slayer of Planets, who is sovereign to over one hundred and seventy-three human planets.  I am instructed to convey to you his warmest affection and my credentials.”

Kris, something in my storage just popped open.  I know what’s in your papers now.

Do I need to know anything about it?

There’s no big surprise past what we’ve already figured out, but there is a holograph of the King speaking and I don’t yet know what he’s going to say.

Let’s hold off on it for a moment.

The kowtowing Iteeche in the shadier colors said, without looking up.  “His Most Worshipfulness will deign to accept your papers of accreditation to His Presence.”

From behind one of the screens, an Iteeche stepped.  Nude, his pale skin was covered with swirls and spirals of every possible color. Eyes downcast, he walked forward.  Kowtowed as lowly as the others to the Emperor, he then rose to approach Jack.  There again, he kowtowed to the elaborately carved wooden box with Kris’s papers.

Jack answered his kowtow with a bow from the waist that only went down halfway.

Good calculation, Jack.

I hope it doesn’t get us killed.

The Iteeche rose and accepted the box from Jack, then turned and made his way back to the darker advisor.  There he kowtowed again, making a perfect right angle with the advisor and slid the box in front of him.

Done, the nude Iteeche stood and backed out of the Imperial Presence.  Only when he was gone did the advisor open the box.  This required him to raise his head and use a pair of his hands.  Kris waited while he read from a piece of parchment that was covered with two columns of writing.  One side was Standard in beautiful calligraphy.  The other side was also in a lovely script.  It was the first time Kris had ever seen High Iteeche written.

The advisor read from the parchment in a high sing-song voice.  Nelly translated for Kris.  The opening was what Kris had already said.  Then they got into new territory.

“My emissary is empowered to speak for not only me but those who have also allied themselves with me in this historic endeavor to bring our two peoples together in peace, harmony and prosperity.  She has my full faith and trust.  What she signs her name to will be accepted within human space as if it were mine.  So I say, so let it be.”

Kris, that holograph really wants out now.

Kris sighed.  Let’s see what grampa has to say.

She bowed again to the Emperor.  “Your Most Imperial Sovereign, I also bear a message from His Royal Majesty.  May I play it before you?”

“This is not proper and fit, Your Most Worshipful One,” the dark advisor said, now back to a full kowtow.

The Iteeche in the shiny raiment, the one Kris took for Ron’s chooser, cleared his throat before speaking.  “Oh, Most Worshipful One, we all know that Raymond Longknife, Slayer of Worlds, Hammer of Iteeche and Maker of Peace, is a wily human who is more likely to piss on propriety than walk its path.  If such a human has managed to slip his own personal message past all that has been thrown in its way to keep it from your eyes, certainly we can entertain them, even if they are as laughably improper as a late chosen clown.”

There was a long pause after that.  The advisors stayed face down and said not a word, nor did their deity speak.  Kris found herself wishing she had four eyes so she could keep an eye on each one of them.  The two advisors stayed splayed out on the floor.  The Emperor on his throne sat still as a statue.  Kris thought of his youth and doubted any human teenager could possibly have pulled that statue gig off.

Despite all this, somehow, communication must have taken place.

“Let us gaze upon this message from one who slew so many of our warriors,” the subdued Iteeche advisor finally said.

Nelly.

On it Kris.

Grampa Ray, King Raymond the First to most, appeared in front of Kris.  His image looked solid, almost as if he were here.  He wore the uniform of a grand admiral with more fruit salad, sashes and orders than it looked possible to pin onto a uniform.

He faced the Emperor and said, “I come before your Imperial Majesty with great joy in my heart for what you have chosen to do for our two peoples,” he said, bowing from the waist just as deeply as Kris had.  He held the bow a bit shorter than she had, she was proud to see.

Nailed that one.

“I believe that you can count on my young emissary to assure that propriety is respected among my merchant class in their dealings with yours.  If they get out of hand, I won’t mind if you have to lop a few heads off,” sounded like pure Ray.

“While I suspect that you have ulterior motives for opening your Empire to we humans, still I think that future history will record that we have chosen well for both ourselves and those Iteeche you chose from the primal waters and we humans call our posterity.”

The King paused, then turned around as looked Kris directly in the eye.

How’d you manage that, Nelly?

I’m busy.

“I trust my young great-granddaughter to balance both her jobs.  I’m confident that she can do both the job I sent her here to do and any task you may ask of her.  A trillion or more of those space raiders are dead at her hands.  I trust she can resolve any duty that you place upon her shoulders.”

Ray’s image actually seemed to smile fondly at Kris.  Then he turned back to the Emperor.  “She’s yours to command, Your Imperial Majesty.”

With that, his image faded away, leaving Kris with one huge question.  What has he gotten me into this time?

Chapter 43

Kris found herself standing there, in front of the Emperor, wondering what came next.

BOW, came from Ron on Nelly Net.

Kris bowed low, but not so low that she couldn’t see the Emperor stand, make one hesitant step toward her, then turn and in a whirl of his sparkling, many colored garments, disappear behind a screen.  Two nude and tattooed body servants met him halfway and hurried him along.

Kris rose from her bow once the Emperor was gone.  Beside her, the two senior advisors stayed down until a half dozen servants trotted from out of sight to offer them assistance.  Help was certainly needed; they rose with much grunting and sighing from their place before the dais.  The shaded one turned to the brighter one, and growled something low.

Whatever he just said, I can’t translate it, Kris.

That done, he whirled about, garments flying and stomped from their company.  He stomped out looking as angry as any old guy who had his last bottle of whiskey stolen by some punk kid.

The one Kris suspected was Ron’s chooser, came to rest one arm on Kris, the other on Ron, who had gotten up on his own, and said, “I figured Ray’s pond scum would be as dangerous as he was.  I am told you are a grand admiral in Ray’s fleet.  Welcome to my family pond.  You are now Chosen Imperial First Admiral of the Grand Order of Steel.  You are charged with commanding the Imperial Battle Fleet.”

Chapter 44

Kris had faced surprise before.  Some had come at her like an alien raider’s base ship materializing a few thousand klicks away from her as it plunged through a jump.  Other surprises she’d had to piece together for herself, like figuring out that her ship’s orders to attack an Earth battle fleet did not come from her father but was intended to start a mad war involving all humanity.

She’d withstood the shock and dismay at all of those.

Today was different.

What happened to me making nice nice and Not blowing shit up?

Sorry, Kris, we told your King that we had need of your services.  When he asked for what, I told him that I did not know.  Really, I didn’t.  Not for sure.  Not until just a moment ago.  Now, could we please carry out this conversation out loud.  I feel it is disrespectful to my chooser otherwise.

“Sorry,” Kris said.  “Can someone brief me on what mission I have just been handed?”

“Not handed.  It is more like we have pushed you off a cliff and into the deep, dark sea,” Roth, Ron’s chooser said, his beak open wide in what Kris took for a smile.

“All metaphor aside, what’s going on?” Kris asked.

“In what you might call a nut shell, we have a young Emperor, may he ever be worshiped.  Worse, it is a time of rapid change.  We Iteeche like our change to come at us over a thousand years.  Even longer is better.  When we stumbled into that war with you humans, our warships hadn’t changed much in three thousand years.  As a just-chosen, I served on a warship that had been built five hundred years before and it was still considered first line, and would have been for another thousand years if you humans hadn’t come along with your frantic changes.”

He shook his head, a rapid process that looked much like an owl shivering.  “And now you give us Smart Metal and take our ground-based power plants to space.  It roils the water.  It roils the water.”

From a distance, a large pavilion born by two dozen bearers trotted toward them.  Roth used two of his hands to wash some of the exhaustion and tension from his face.  “You will excuse me, but I have only just begun my daily allotment of meetings.  I must shore up my alliance, and I am told by my ears that you have started several small storms.”

He glanced at Kris’s own sedan chair as it now came up the steps.  “I’d never thought to use Smart Metal to make such a powerful impression.  I had expected you to refuse to kowtow.  Ray never did touch his forehead to the ground to me.  One of my axe men almost took his head off for his insolence the first time he came into my presence.  A bold man would, of course choose a bold one from the pond.  I fear that I have more storms to calm than even I expected.”

“I did what I had to do,” Kris said.

“No doubt you did,” Roth said, again patting Kris on the shoulder.  “Still, I must do what I must do.  Now, my chosen knows where your palace is.  He can take you there and he will no doubt also introduce you to where all the rocks and sand bars are in the ocean you have been dunked into.  Farewell, bold human.  No doubt we will meet again and you will cause me no end of trouble.”

Roth’s palanquin arrived.  The twenty-four Iteeche knelt as he climbed aboard it.  One of them closed the door, blocking him from outside view, and Roth was quickly carried off.

Kris glanced around.  What had started as a near lethal meeting had resolved itself without bloodshed.  Of course, the day was yet young and there was, no doubt, all kinds of possibilities.  She took in her and Jack’s sedan chairs and Ron’s as well as her eight porters and Ron’s own twelve.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of riding around locked up in a tiny box.  What do you say we make one big platform pavilion for the three of us and let our porters lug us out of here while you answer a whole wad of questions?” she said to Ron.

“It is not forbidden,” Ron admitted.

“Nelly,” was all Kris had to say.  In a moment, a tendril from Jack’s sedan chair had reached out to Kris’s and the two merged into a single blob that quickly formed itself into one imposing castle supported by four long poles.  Harness in finely tooled leather appeared marking ten places forward and ten more aft for porters to stand between the four shafts.

With some trepidation, the porters approached their new job.  One however, seemed to understand the new arrangement and quickly took his position, pointing others to where they should stand.  With twenty porters in place, Nelly let down an escalator from the shoulder high platform and Jack, followed by Ron, was quickly carried up.

Kris waited, as senior, to be the last to enter.  She spared the situation one last glance.  Did she see small eyes peering around a screen, taking all this in.  If she did, curtains fluttered and there was nothing more to see.

Kris let Nelly’s escalator carry her up to her new, high perch, and into the palatial comfort that Kris strongly suspected Nelly had stolen from some movie’s idea of a harem.

“Okay, Ron, start talking and don’t stop until you’ve answered all my questions.”

Chapter 45

Ron made a major show of settling his large frame down upon several pillows.  He fluffed more and managed to rest at least four of his elbows on them.  Jack folded himself onto the floor and arranged a pillow for his back.  Kris decided to stand.

It was easier to glare while standing.

“I am sorry, Kris, that I was not able to talk to you fully before.  My chooser insisted that I not let any human know of our circumstances.  I was specifically instructed by my chooser to not let any word of our internal situation out until you were here and was brought before the Most Worshipful One to do whatever had been decided in my absence.  I suspected you might be asked to command a fleet.  I’m as surprised as you are to have you in command of the entire fleet.  Still, it is critical to both our peoples that that poor young one on the throne survives.”

Kris sighed.  “So even Ray got played this time.”

“I wonder how he takes to getting a slug of his own medicine,” Jack said, dryly.

“Still, Ron, you and your entire Imperial court manipulated me,” Kris spat.  “I’ve half a mind to stuff this whole mission, pack up my battlecruisers and go home.”

There was a long silence after that.

“You want me to argue you out of that, right?” Jack said.

“Yes,” Kris said, knowing that she was just spitting and fussing and sulking for a few minutes before she’d do what she damn well knew she’d do in the end.

“Shall we stipulate that you have thrown a world record fit, said many nasty things about the dirty trick the Iteeche have done to you and richly earned, and get on with it?” Jack said.  “Ron, just what is the mess you’re in?”

“My Eminent Chooser spoke true when he said we Iteeche do not handle change very well.  Certainly, not change that comes at us like a massive asteroid.”

Ron paused to wiggle deeper into the pillows.  “We have had civil wars.  It is not something that we tell tadpoles in the Palace of Learning.  You must be an advisor of the First Order before those scrolls are opened for your eyes.  Normally, it would be years before those were shared with me, but my Eminent Chooser chose to open my eyes to them after I returned from your rambling of the galaxy.”

He sat up, facing front on to Kris.  “The rebellion had already begun.  There were lords of satraps that did not think the Empire should be passed to a young Emperor.  The sudden death of The Worshipful One was not expected.  Some of us still wonder how it came to pass.  Still, we Iteeche are an obedient and loyal people.  Civil war does not come often to us, but when it does, it is bloody and brutal.  It can leave entire satraps devastated.  We have no limits on the power we can bring to bear against planets like you humans have agreed to.  Even when a planet surrenders, the loyal supporters of the losers may continue the fight.  Kris, I have seen the scrolls.  I wish I was not living in times like these,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“You are not the only one to bring a holograph, Kris,” he said.  “I bore one to your chooser from mine.  My Eminent Chooser got down on his knees before your King and begged him with tears in his eyes for him to send you to us.  He begged him on the memory of all that they did to make peace back then.  On all the lives that they saved.  That, Kris, is how desperately we need you.”

“You need me?”  Kris said, then found a couple of pillows and settled down on them.  She glanced out the screens.  They were being rapidly carried through the palace; no stops to kowtow on the way out.  She turned back to Ron.  “Okay, Ron, tell me what you need.”

“Kris, it’s a mess,” Ron said, settling back and getting comfortable among his cushions.  “We had a space battle, Imperials against one rebellious satrap.  We sent five hundred of the new battlecruisers to seize the capital of that satrap.  They had five hundred of their own battlecruisers.  They are a very productive satrap.  Our admirals hurled our ships at their ships.  It was a huge battle.  I will show you the recordings of how it went down.  When it was done, less than a dozen badly damaged Imperial battlecruisers, not one of them with a surviving admiral, managed to straggle home.  The rebels were no better off.  Kris, we do not know how to fight these ships except to hurl them at each other and watch them blow each other up.”

Ron shook his head, ruefully.

“That is why you saw what you saw when we were intercepted by the rebels on your way here.  If the odds are even, we annihilate each other.  If one can manage at least a fifty percent superiority, we know we will lose, so we surrender.  Did you see the huge forts and fleets we had defending the Imperial planet?  We are barely holding our own.  But we can’t just sit on our hands.  They are building more ships.  We are building more ships.  Our people are taxed beyond what anyone can expect.  More satraps raise the banner of rebellion and none of our admirals can think of anything but to hurl more fleets against their fleets.”

“And if an alien base ship showed up in your sky,” Jack said, “could you manage a unified defense?”

“I fear that some of our rebels might do what that Empress tried to do among your rebels.  Yes, we heard about that.  I could not believe it when I heard it, but now, with the division among my own people, I could see why.  Surely some of our rebels would greet an alien base ship with open arms if it would agree to help them defeat The Worshipful One.”

They rode in silence for a long minute, the pavilion gently swaying as the porters carried it along.  Kris wondered where they were going but whoever was calling the shots seemed to know and Ron showed no concern.  Kris scratched that off her list and contemplated this new hot potato that the Iteeche had dropped in her lap.

“Just how big a problem are we up against?” Jack asked, breaking the silence.

“Something I’ve never faced,” Kris admitted.  “It’s called symmetrical warfare.  Both sides have the stuff that’s as good as the other.  Usually, someone has some strength they can count on, a faster ship, better guns, something.  You try to emphasize your strengths and aim for your enemy’s weakness.  Take our aliens.  They had mass.  Lots and lots of aliens and ships and lasers and whatever else they could make, they had it.  We had ships that were faster than theirs and lasers that reached out beyond what they could hope for.  With our speed, we chose the range and shot them to pieces.  They kept trying to get around that.  We kept ahead of them.  They lost, then lost, then lost some more.”

“And here?” Jack asked.

“They have battlecruisers.  The rebel battlecruisers are as fast as the Imperial.  They’ve both got 22-inch, 24-inch lasers.  One against one, who wins?”

“The lucky one,” Ron drawled and tried to get more comfortable.

“Would you prefer a chair?” Nelly asked.

“I’m fine,” Ron answered.  “It’s not the ride that makes me agitated.”

“Haven’t there been times when humans fought with the same ships or guns or tanks?” Jack asked.

“Nelly?”  Kris asked.

“I could rattle off the answers, Kris, but I suspect you already know them.”

“Yes.  I was just giving myself time to think.  People did win when equipment wasn’t all that different.  Training.  Skill.  A slight edge in equipment here, a secret weapon there.”

“But it was often bloody and they didn’t win nearly as much,” Nelly put in. “However, if one side figured out a whole new way of making war, things changed fast.  For example, the stirrup and heavy cavalry in the middle ages.  The tank and the blitzkrieg warfare in the bloody Twentieth century.”

“Yep, Nelly, you got it in one,” Kris said.  “Ron, where is this hearse going?”

“I have instructed the porters to carry us to the Rose Palace.  It is to be your embassy.  I am sure you will find it to your liking.”

“Any chance we’ll get there alive?” Jack asked with a jaundiced eye.

“I assure you, several battalions of the Imperial Guard have been detailed to escort us there.  I am told that your own battalion of Marines are waiting for you outside the Imperial Palace and a regiment of Imperial Marines are also with them.”

“And how many of them can we trust?” Jack asked, eyeing Ron askance.

“All of them, I think,” he answered innocently.  “I am also told that an Admiral of the Grand Order of Iron is in charge of them and can’t wait to talk with you.”

“Is the Imperial Navy behind me, or will I need to have my food tasted?”

“Or watch for poisonous snakes in our bed?” Jack asked.

Ron shook his head.  “Kris, I have no idea who is on my Eminent Chooser’s side from day to day.  I doubt that even he, in his infinite wisdom as advisor and guide to The Most Worshipful One, knows who is on which side at any moment.  All we can hope is that whatever side they are on, they have not yet reached the point of knifing us in the back.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“We are like a pond with a surface smooth as silk, but underneath, a brutal struggle for life goes on, hidden from view.  Then a great storm shows itself, and the waters are riled.  That is us in normal time.  These days, the dam that held back the water has burst, and the torrent sweeps all before it.  My chooser and My Most Worshiped One look to you to give us time to rebuild the dam, time for the storm to pass.  Can you turn back the raging torrent?”

Kris rolled her eyes at the overhead.

She had so wanted a nice, quiet job.  She’d gotten what she wanted and found it a royal pain in the butt.

She had so wanted to believe that she could choose her next job as a smart, cautious woman, able to weigh every option, examine the job so she knew exactly what she was getting into this time.  And here she was.

She had been so sure she could keep Grampa Ray from jobbing her this time.  Keep him from putting that gold ring in her nose and leading her around like some prize heifer.  No, despite her sex, Kris was more like a prized bull, ready to charge off and kick up some serious dirt.

This time even Grampa Ray seemed to have failed to understand what he was sending her into.  Or maybe Grampa Ray had succumbed to the same wishful thinking that she had fallen for.  Wow.  The Iteeche Empire wanted to open up normal relationships with the humans.  Go for it.

Yeah, right.

Neither she nor Ray had thought to pause and reflect.  What would leave the Iteeche so desperate that they would risk the opening up to the humans.

Kris thought that maybe her work keeping the alien base ships away from the Empire’s front door had given her credibility.  That maybe because she had earned their respect they were now willing to trust the humans.

Yeah, right.

They’d asked for her because she was the fightingest admiral of her generation.  Because she knew how to fight the battlecruisers better than anyone else had managed.  They asked for her because they needed some serious shit blown up and Kris held the most recent record for blowing serious shit up.

The problem was, of course, that Kris had worked her magic in asymmetrical warfare situations.  She had the range and speed on the alien raiders.  She’d kept them from bringing their mass to bear on her smaller forces.  That was not the situation the Empire now found itself in.

Kris would be facing ships with the exact same speed.  The exact same lasers with the exact same range.  The Iteeche were offering Kris a chance to face the worse situation a battle commander could find herself in.  All things being equal, you got a blood bath.

All things being equal, only numbers counted.

All things being equal, she’d need to figure out a way to bring more of her ships to bear against fewer of their ships without them doing the same to her somewhere else along the battle front.

She’d pulled one rabbit out of her hat, masquerading divisions as task forces.  How many times could she pull that off before the rebels didn’t trust her feints or learned to probe them with small, fast scouts?

At moments like this, Kris wished she’d learned to pray.

“Ron, I will do my best for your Emperor.  That is all that I can do.  My best.”

Coming Attractions

In 2016 I amicably ended my twenty-year publishing relationship with Ace, part of Penguin Random House.  In 2017, I will begin publishing through my own independent press, KL & MM Books.

I have high hopes of bringing a lot of fun stories to you in 2017 and then again in 2018 and 2019.

We have already started the year with Kris Longknife’s Replacement.  It was published as an e-book January 5, 2017 at Amazon, (with a bit of a learning experience for me) B&N, D2D, Kobo and the iStore.  Audible is under contract to produce an audio book.  The exact date is to be announced.  Later in the summer, I hope to produce a trade paperback.

Kris Longknife’s Replacement tells the story of Grand Admiral Sandy Santiago as she does her best as a mere mortal to fill the shoes left behind on Alwa Station byKris Longknife.  Sandy has problems galore: birds, cats, vicious alien raiders.  Oh, and she’s got Rita Longknife as well!

February had a novelette for you.  Kris Longknife: Among the Kicking Birds was part of Kris Longknife - Unrelenting.  However, it went long and these four chapters were cut to one short paragraph.  I hope you enjoy the full story.

Rita Longknife - Enemy Unknown is the first book of the long awaited Iteeche War series.  It was published as a e-book March 1, 2017 from your favorite source.  Audible and trade paperback will follow.

Rita has had enough of Ray Longknife gallivanting around the universe.  No sooner is little Al born, then ships start disappearing.  Is it pirates or something more sinister?  Rita gets herself command of a heavy cruiser, some nannies and heads out see what there is to see.

April will have another short offering.  Kris Longknife’s Bad Day.  You just knew when Kris asked for a desk job that she’d have days like you have at the office.  Well, here’s one that will bring you up to date on the technical developments in the Royal US Navy, as well as silly bureaucratic goings on.  In the first draft of Emissary, these were the opening chapters, but I found a better opening and this got cut.  Enjoy!

Kris Longknife - Emissary begins an entirely new story arc for Kris.  It will be out in e-book May 1, 2017 from all your favorite sources.

Here is the story of what it takes to get Kris out from behind a desk.  And for those of you betting in the pool, you’ll get your answer.  More I cannot say.

June will have Abby Nightingale’s view of things around Alwa as Kris Longknife’s Maid Goes on Strike.  You knew sooner or later this was going to happen.

July 1, 2017 will see another book set in Alwa as Kris Longknife’s Relief, Sandy Santiago, continues to battle aliens of various persuasions and not a few humans.

September 1, 2017, Rita Longknife - Enemy in Sight will resolve the unknowns left by Enemy Unknown as humanity slips backwards into a war it does not want and may not be able to win.

November 1, 2017, Kris Longknife - Admiral will see Kris up to her ears in warships, enemies and friendlies who may be not as friendly as she’d like, as battlecruisers square off against battlecruisers.  A fight where both sides are equal is a bloody fight that often no one wins.  In Admiral, that is exactly what Kris faces.

Each month that a book isn’t published, a short story or something from the cutting room floor, a scene that had to be cut from an overly long book will be published.  The price will usually be 99 cents.

I have secured the services of Scott Grimando who did the wonderful Kris Longknife covers for Ace to provide the new covers for all the books going forward.  It truly will be art to enjoy.

Stay in touch to follow developments by following Mike Moscoe or Kris Longknife on Facebook or checking in at my website www.mikeshepherd.org.

I hope to soon have a mailing list you can sign up for, but it’s not there yet.

[D1]I’d actually leave this.  While agendas is, of course, plural, there’s an almost understood ‘The existence of’ to provide the singular….  Besides, this is speech

[DA2]Page break

[DA3]Page break

Table of Contents

- Kris Longknife – Emissary
- Mike Shepherd
- Contents
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Coming Attractions