Welcome Home / Go Away (kris longknife) Read online

  “May God have mercy on her soul and preserve her from such a fate,” Trouble said, and his host had the good humor to laugh at his prayer.

  “But, yes, I can’t see any reason why Kris wouldn’t want to be available to you. She’s a big girl now and can handle herself quite well.”

  “So, General, why isn’t she here already?”

  “Winston, space is big. Our own human sphere is several hundred light-years across. Kris’s voyage covered tens of thousands of light-years. We may travel across those distances, but it takes time. The basic news that Kris is back can be flashed across space quickly. Getting more information needs more time. And getting Kris from where she is to where you want to interview her can take even more time.”

  “Where is she?” Winston slipped in with an angelic look on his face.

  “You know as much as I do about that,” the general evaded.

  “That’s part of the problem, none of us know. The word we all have seems to have originated at Chance, in the Helvitican Confederacy. We’ve asked our associated news sources from there to confirm that she’s there, but they haven’t gotten back to us. I would assume that if she was there, we would be getting all kinds of reports flowing from there and not have to be asking them for anything.”

  “Don’t you just hate waiting for the speed of light to cough up stuff?” Trouble said. “I’ve got several criminal associates and scofflaws trying to figure a way to break that law.”

  “Let me know if they have any luck on that,” Winston said, going with the joke. “But for now, it does seem strange that the media have nothing to say from Chance.”

  “Maybe that’s because they don’t have anything to report,” Trouble said. “Just because a report comes from somewhere doesn’t mean that it started there or that there’s more to see there.”

  “So, General, what do you think about the speculation that the Greenfeld Empire will take it personally if Kris doesn’t bring home their battle squadron?”

  “As I recall, there were eight battleships. Four from Greenfeld and the other four from the Helvitican Confederacy and Musashi.”

  “But the new Emperor, Henry I, sent along his only daughter. If she’s lost, that could change a lot of things between the U.S. and Greenfeld.”

  If Crossenshield was right, Harry might just send a “thank-you” to Ray, or Harry’s new wife most definitely would. But what could Trouble say, without, ah, getting into trouble?

  Well, there was a reason he had that name.

  “I really don’t think we need to worry about Emperor Henry worrying about his daughter’s safety,” Trouble said.

  The reporter’s eyes lit up. “Do you know something we don’t, General?”

  “Possibly. And I think I’ve said all I need to on that topic. Kris is back, and, I assure you, the Grand Duchess Victoria is at her side.”

  “Well, you heard it here first. Her Imperial Grace, Victoria, the Grand Duchess of Greenfeld, is safe and with Kris Longknife. How did that happen, General?”

  “Like you, Winston, I have no idea how it came down that Kris and Vicky are both on the Wasp.”

  “So, the Wasp is back, too. That is Kris’s flagship, isn’t it?”

  Oops. “Yes, the Wasp is Kris’s flag.”

  “Are there any other ships with it?”

  “That is something I don’t know. Like you, I’m waiting with my fingers crossed for more information to get to us from wherever. It’s nerve-racking for all of us, this wait. But that’s the way it is in these kinds of situations.”

  “And what kind of situation do you see this as, General?”

  Trouble was getting tired of this gotcha stuff.

  “As I understand it, and I think your watchers understand it, Kris launched herself and her fleet at a force that is the enemy of all life in the galaxy. I think it’s safe to assume there was a battle. Likely a big one. Reports after battles take time. Those of us who fought in the Iteeche War, or had loved ones on the front lines, know what it’s like to wait for the good news or the bad.”

  Trouble paused to let that sink in.

  “From the barest reports we have now, there is some good news. Kris is back with one ship and the Grand Duchess. We just have to wait to see who else comes back. And I wouldn’t assume that we need to keep our eyes only on Chance for news. If it was like several of our battles against the Iteeche, ships may come straggling in from a whole lot of different directions. You may have noticed that in your history classes.”

  “Matters like that are rarely covered in the history classes folks take today. For that, you have to read some of the good books written by people like you. Have you written a book, sir?”

  “No, Winston, I don’t have a book to wave for your watchers to run out and listen to. Sorry about that.”

  “Well, I wanted to wave it if it was there to wave, sir.”

  “Thank you, Winston.”

  “So there you have it folks,” the reporter said, turning to face front on into one of the cameras. “As you’ve no doubt heard, Princess Kris Longknife is back. We know nothing about the battle she may or may not have fought, but the general here has told us, and you’ve been the first to hear, that Kris’s back, along with her flagship, the Wasp, and the Greenfeld Grand Duchess Victoria. This is Winston Spenser, returning you to your regularly scheduled programs.”

  He paused until a disembodied human voice announced, “Cut. Well done, Winston, and thank you for your time, General.”

  “Thank you for having me,” Trouble said, noticing that the cameras were still showing little red lights on the wall. One of them even zoomed in on him as he watched.

  “Was it a good interview?” he asked Winston.

  “I was afraid it was going to be very short when you balked on the neutron torpedoes.”

  “I wasn’t aware of what was in the public domain. My wife mentioned something about them yesterday. I should have asked her to brief me on what she knew.”

  “We do have those torpedoes, right?”

  “If you’re asking me to validate what has been published in the public domain, sorry, son. You need to talk to someone whose job that is. I’m just a retired old warhorse who no one tells nothing.”

  “But you were called to the king’s private chambers last night, weren’t you?”

  Trouble moved quickly to deflect that with a nonlie. “I had supper last night with my loving wife. She ordered up delicious Greek fare that I could not name to save my life. What else I may or may not have done is not for me to say.”

  “We have the picture of you hurrying out of a cab and entering the Grand Hotel de Wardhaven.”

  So there was more gotcha. “Then I guess you can play it, but you won’t get me commenting on it, or anything Ray Longknife and I may have discussed about our peripatetic great-grandkid. Though, if you push me, I will tell you that I’m proud as punch of her, just like I am of all my kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. And if you press me on it, I can produce pictures of each and every one of them. Even a few of them with their bare bottoms on a bear rug.”

  “Now one of Kris so flagrantly delectable might be worth me sitting through all those pictures.”

  “You can let him go, now,” that disembodied voice announced, and this time, the cameras did go from red to green.

  “You are one smart cookie,” Winston said.

  “I’m alive. A lot of dumber or just plain unlucky folks aren’t.”

  “Yes. May I walk you out?”

  “Yes, please. That was quite a rat’s maze they led me through.”

  Winston did walk Trouble through the corridors and out through the main lobby. Only when they were back on the street did he speak.

  “General, I’m rooting for your grandkid. There are a lot of folks in this business who aren’t. We get a lot more coverage when we’re tearing people down. Not so much when we’re reporting how they did something good. I think she did something good. I’ll try to get that message out if I can get past al
l the dragons, who start with my producer and include management and sponsors.”

  “I figured your job wasn’t all skittles and beer.”

  “Not as deadly as your profession, sir, but not a bed of roses, either.”

  “Well, you do what you can, and I’ll do what I can.”

  “Say hi to the king for me the next time you see him,” Winston said, as Trouble took his leave.

  “You’ll likely see him before I do,” Trouble said over his shoulder. He didn’t turn back to see how the reporter took the answer.

  “In a pig’s eye,” may or may not have been Winston.

  Trouble didn’t get to the end of the street before his computer was telling him he had incoming calls. Ruth’s wasn’t the first in line, but he took her call before the rest.

  “You didn’t do too bad, dear. Did you know they were distributing you live?”

  “Nope. They didn’t mention it. Must have slipped their mind,” Trouble said, ruefully. “And, honey, I made a mistake last night. I should have had you brief me about what was in the public domain about those damn torpedoes.”

  “Oh, you did just fine without it, dear. I take it you’ve been thinking about how you would have used them if you were there with Kris.”

  “It’s been a thought as I try to get to sleep after bothersome days.”

  “You didn’t tell me that Vicky came back with our Kris.”

  “It may have slipped my mind last night. You were very distracting.”

  “The day my old body distracts you from anything green or blue will be the first time,” she shot back at him.

  “That is a cruel canard on my manhood. There have been two or three times when you have most successfully distracted me.”

  “Two or three times in eighty years.”

  “That’s better than most career Marine’s wives, I assure you.”

  “I guess I’ll have to settle for that. Well, no doubt there are a lot of calls coming in for you. Networks that want to talk to you now that you’ve dropped a few crumbs more than His Royal Chambers have.”

  “Hmm. Speaking of the devil’s own home, I’ve got a call from said Royal Chambers.”

  “You better take it before Ray splits a gut.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to have to attend an old war buddy’s funeral because I killed him now, would I?”

  “In Ray’s case, I might just give you absolution.”

  “Yes, but trust me, the next ten folks waiting in line for his job are a whole lot worse.”

  “Likely you’re right. See you for dinner, love?”

  “I might be a bit late if they want to call me on the carpet and read me the riot act in person.”

  “I’ll keep it warm for you.”

  “You always keep everything warm for me.”

  “You just be sure to come home, you hear?”

  “We aren’t likely to hear anything new from Kris until tomorrow morning at the earliest. What could keep me from you, my love?”

  “You want me to read you my list? It’s long and growing.”

  “Trouble out,” he said.

  “Ruth waiting,” she said, ending the call.

  The computer asked him who he wanted to talk to next.

  He glanced down the long list of incoming calls. The vast majority were from media outlets. No doubt they’d seen him with Winston and figured their expert interviewers could extract more from him or maybe twist him better in the wind.

  But there was one from the Royal Chambers. “Answer the royal call,” he told his computer.

  “Where are you?” came an unidentified, demanding, and not at all respectful voice.

  “Who wants to know?” Trouble shot right back in just as demanding a voice.

  “King Raymond wants to see you right now.”

  “Okay. I’m walking home from an interview.”

  “We know about that interview. We’ve got a car waiting for you right outside the media headquarters.”

  “It wasn’t there when I came out,” Trouble snapped. He was developing a definite distaste for this person on the line.

  “Well, activate your beeper, and the car will come to you.”

  “Computer, give them a homing beacon.”

  “Activated, sir.”

  “They’ve got it. Stay right there.”

  “Who is this? Because if you don’t have four stars on your shoulder, this four-star general is going to eat your ass for lunch.”

  Trouble found himself talking to a dead circuit.

  “Kids these days. They ought to have to storm a Black Mountain or two. They’d learn some respect. If they lived through it.”

  A car pulled up. The Secret Service man riding shotgun quickly dismounted and trotted toward Trouble.

  “Are you General Tordon?”

  “You see anyone else with a ramrod backbone around here?”

  “No sir, I do not. May I ask you to please join us in the car?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” the general said.

  As he settled into the backseat, the car was already moving. In the front he heard a whispered, “We have the problem child, and boy is he pissed.”

  Well, at least someone is getting the word.

  There was a major waiting for Trouble in the basement of the Grand Hotel. He grabbed the general by the elbow and rushed him into a waiting elevator. Trouble had to elbow the guy in the ribs to get him to let go of his arm.

  The corporal holding the elevator developed a lovely case of dimples as she took in the scene, but she didn’t turn around enough for the major to notice.

  Trouble gave her a smile, and the dimples became even more delightful.

  The elevator went straight to the thirty-second floor and disgorged them into the waiting arms of a bird colonel.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” the colonel demanded.

  “Mister,” Trouble snapped. “Either you sprout a whole lot more stars on your collar than you got now, or you pass me along to someone who does, because, son, I was ripping colonels’ new assholes before you were even in diapers.”

  The colonel looked about to explode, but the cute corporal was back, no dimples in evidence.

  “Sir, Field Marshal McMorrison would like to see the general now, Colonel.”

  Trouble left the colonel sputtering to himself and followed the corporal to Mac’s office.

  “Thank you,” he said, and was rewarded for his gallantry with another attack of dimples as she opened the door for him.

  “General Trouble is here for you, sir,” she said.

  “And you’re a whole lot of trouble, today, aren’t you, Jarhead.”

  Trouble took the offered hand. “While I will dispute that I’ve caused anyone any unnecessary trouble, no doubt, I am in trouble.”

  “No doubt,” the newly minted field marshal said, pointing Trouble toward a comfortable chair and taking another one himself, thereby managing to sit with his back to a desk piled high with the jetsam and flotsam of the problems of combining 120 or more planets into a single fighting force.

  “Can I placate you with a cup of coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee. Black,” Trouble said.

  “Corporal Jin, two black coffees.” The dimpled soldier nodded and closed the door as she left.

  “You keeping the prettiest for yourself, old man?” Trouble asked.

  “I got to put up with a gang of ugly ones.”

  “Like that colonel I damn near slugged out there?”

  “Colonel Denton is a very good public-relations expert, or so I am assured.”

  “I didn’t notice any combat ribbons on his chest.”

  “Trouble, there aren’t a lot of folks with combat ribbons to show for their twenty or thirty years. It’s been kind of peaceful for a spell.”

  “That may be changing,” Trouble said.

  Dimples returned with two coffees that were actually coffee, not froth, and tasted quite good. Trouble told her.

  “The field m
arshal got the office a real coffeepot last Christmas. So long as I clean it every morning, it makes good coffee. Since I also get to drink it, it’s a joy to clean.”

  “Practical soldier,” Trouble said, a grin coming out to play. “Now, if you can find a dirty, oily old pot boiler, why don’t you draw a cup for my friend the colonel back there?”

  “Sorry, General,” the corporal said, dimples on full parade. “Prune face only drinks the fancy stuff. All froth and foam and sugar.”

  “Now, Jin,” the field marshal said.

  “Yes, sir, Field Marshal, sir, I’ll clean up my act immediately, but the general met the colonel, and the general doesn’t look like the type to call a fucking spade a shovel, sir.”

  And with that, she conducted a very orderly withdrawal. Certainly, not a retreat.

  “That young woman,” the field marshal said, shaking his head.

  “Well, if you have no use for her, I’m sure my Kris could put her to good use in a fight. It seems to me that a woman like her is wasted on a bunch of toy soldiers like you got here.”

  “No doubt, but her dad and mom served under me years ago, and they personally asked me to sit on her request to transfer to Kris’s Marine detachment. I sat on the request just long enough to see the rear jets of the fleet headed out.”

  “Mac, the day may be coming that we need to let gals like her get their war paint on.”

  The field marshal’s eyes took on a faraway look. Then he shook himself. “You may be right.”

  “You heard anything?”

  “Nothing more than when you left last night. We’re all just guessing.”

  “Us. The media. All looking for a good crystal ball, and none to be had,” Trouble said, and allowed himself a worried sigh as he enjoyed another sip.

  The field marshal eyed Trouble. “So you just had to go out there and give them a few more crumbs.”

  Trouble scowled. “Guilty as charged. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “I’ve heard that a time or ninety from your great-granddaughter.”

  “You’ve heard it a couple thousand times from me and Ray,” Trouble shot back. “They were getting their panties all in a twist about some war with Greenfeld. I could see nothing served by them blabbing on about that, so I gave them the crumb that Vicky Peterwald was back. That should take a load off her dad.”