Kris Longknife: Furious Read online

  “You could take worse advice,” Luna said, and left Kris to change.

  “Are you going to hide out in the crew?” Kris asked Penny as she examined her dress for today.

  Penny shook her head. “Where thou goest, I go,” she said. “If you think you can handle dressing yourself, I’ll duck down to my putative quarters and dress for guests. Or jail. Depending.”

  “Guests or jail. Yep,” Kris agreed.

  11

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

  Then nothing happened.

  Nothing happened for ten solid minutes.

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

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

  Penny nodded.

  They waited a bit more.

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

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

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

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

  “He certainly earned the promotion,” Kris agreed.

  “Do I let them in?”

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

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

  “Will do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  NELLY, DID YOU DO THAT?

  NOPE. YOU DO REMEMBER WHO OWNS THIS TUB?

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

  YOU BET, Nelly added with open professional respect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “No doubt,” Kris agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Inspector Johnson did not honor that question with an answer.

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

  “I forgot to thank her,” Kris said.

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

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

  12

  Like all established planets, New Eden had a space elevator. Kris and company quickly boarded a ferry. Like any large ferry system, it had a VIP lounge.

  It also had a special and private section for cops.

  Johnson led them past the VIP lounge and into the police holding area. He was kind enough not to lock Kris and Penny in a cell but rather offered them a pair of chairs: cheap, hard, and uncomfortable. The two inspectors settled into similar seats.

  �
��Would either of you like to tell us what’s going on?” Kris asked.

  “No,” said Johnson, jumping in before Martinez could even open his mouth. “The president wants to talk to you. He’ll tell you what he wants you to know.”

  Martinez gave the Secret Service agent a sour look, but nodded. “President Oscar Castillo wants to share his concerns with you. I imagine Alex is right, if a bit abrupt.”

  Johnson let the complaint roll off his back like water off a peacock’s feathers.

  “Well”—Kris tried to sound as innocent and chatty as possible—“then this matter of a warrant for my arrest is not really an issue.”

  “No,” Senior Chief Inspector Martinez said.

  “Speak for yourself, Juan. We are a signed member of the Union of Societies, and as such, ought to honor arrest warrants from other planets of the union.”

  Kris didn’t know what to take the most umbrage at. That he wanted to arrest her—or that he’d changed Grampa’s United Society into something a whole lot less united sounding.

  Just how much trouble is Grampa, King Ray to most, having keeping his 173 planets together in one . . . something or other?

  Kris decided that changing the subject might well be in order.

  “How have things been going since I was last here?”

  “Peacefully,” Inspector Johnson shot back, not only to forestall a comment by Martinez but also to cut off further conversation.

  Senior Chief Inspector Martinez ignored the Secret Service inspector. “It’s amazing how few people have died in helicopter accidents. Our death rate by heart attack is actually below the average for a developed planet,” he said with a grin.

  On Kris’s last visit to Eden, both of them had noted the high incidence of those sorts of deaths and attributed them not to natural causes but to infighting among various parties of several persuasions.

  It was nice to see that Kris had made a change that was appreciated.

  “President Castillo is also a product of your last visit.”

  “Was he one of the unenfranchised workers?” Kris asked. A large part of New Eden’s population had been made up of people brought in to do the menial labor. They and their children had never been given citizenship and the vote. Even Police Lieutenant Martinez was one of the marginalized. Kris was only too happy to be credited with that change.

  “No, his family was one of the early arrivals, before the vote got so limited. Still, he and his family had been fighting for change, and you dropped it right in his lap.”

  Senior Chief Inspector Martinez glanced at Inspector Johnson, who was studiously looking the other way and ignoring his new superior, as well as Kris.

  Then Johnson did turn to Kris. “Don’t expect any hugs and kisses. Not after all the trouble you’ve got us in. Us and the whole human race.”

  Kris gave the most innocent shrug she could manage. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Now who’s bringing up topics we were expressly forbidden to raise?” Martinez said. “Naughty, naughty.”

  Johnson went back to staring at the bulkhead to Penny’s right.

  Kris leaned back in her seat and got as comfortable as the chair allowed. It looked to be a long, quiet trip.

  Martinez surprised her. “Your grandmadre Ruth still comes to teach at our university.”

  “The kidnapping didn’t slow her down, huh?” Penny said.

  “Not likely,” Martinez said. “Though I do think our kids are not so much fun for her. Their blinders are off. They can see a whole lot more of the world around them. She doesn’t have to fight them so much to see the injustice and do something about it.”

  “Yeah,” Johnson growled. “Now we have student protests every Friday, like clockwork.”

  “It only seems that way to you, Alex,” Martinez replied. “If you followed them in my media, you’d know that every one of the protests has its own issues and own set of things they want to change.”

  “You’re just bragging because you bought into those scandal sheets when they went public and made a small fortune,” the Secret Service agent shot back.

  “And you are still bent out of shape that three of your favorite ones have closed. I told you the Hungry I has all the cartoons you liked. Just subscribe, mi hombre.”

  “And wade through all those rumors. Never! They’re wrong half the time.”

  “Which is better than being wrong all the time.”

  Both men were starting to show red at the neck and cheeks. Kris wondered if they were armed and how hard it would be to wrestle them into separate cells.

  “Gentlemen, gentleman,” she said. “Enough. I see things have changed, and change is hard. Okay. Thank you for the update on your lovely planet. I’ll happily ride in silence the rest of the trip.”

  The men fell quiet, leaving Kris to wonder how it happened that the two of them had been sent to get her. Clearly, New Eden still had several faces. Once more, Kris would have to figure out on the run which was the true one.

  The ride down took half an hour. They left the ferry through a different exit from the rest of the paying passengers. Kris found herself being helped into a police SUV, as dark as the night, and the driver took the four of them into traffic without a word.

  They’d merged into a crosstown throughway and accelerated into the fast lane at a speed only a cop, or teenager, would risk.

  Except Kris noticed a red sports car zip past them as if they were parked.

  A moment later, the car slowed down, pulled back next to them and its window came down. Kris spotted a camera in the window and blinked when it flashed.

  “Reporters,” Inspector Johnson grumbled from where he sat across from Penny. The women had been given the plush backseat of the rig.

  Kris gave one of her, “I have to do this,” smiles at the car across from them, wondering if the dark windows were allowing any real picture taking.

  “Gun!” Kris shouted and ducked as the window beside her blossomed into a constellation of starbursts, and the SUV demonstrated just how heavily armored it was.

  Senior Chief Inspector Martinez threw himself at Kris as Johnson began shouting into his wrist, “Tag! Tag! Where the hell are you guys?”

  Martinez landed heavy on Kris as the rig went into a high-negative-gee deceleration. Kris heard a distant crash, which she guessed was “you guys” doing some tagging of their own.

  It must have been good for the police, because the SUV accelerated smoothly back to an even faster speed, and Martinez climbed off of Kris and returned to his seat with a mumbled apology. Kris wasn’t sure whether it was for the attack or the personal contact.

  She didn’t ask for a clarification.

  She did say, “Senior Chief Inspector Martinez, you may recall on that application for a gun carry permit I gave you many moons ago, I listed several attacks on my life. Do we need to add another one, or was that just a routine traffic stop on New Eden?”

  Both inspectors had the good humor to smile sardonically at Kris’s question.

  “I suspect we’ll credit this one to you, Your Highness,” Martinez said. “I don’t think someone wants you to meet our president.”

  “Who knows I’m on planet?” Kris said. She wasn’t exactly shocked. Maybe not even surprised. Still, somebody was moving fast.

  And had tentacles in a whole lot of pots that other folks thought were secret.

  Outside, they quickly picked up a phalanx of five other equally heavy SUVs. The rest of the drive to wherever they were going was uneventful.

  They pulled into the basement of a skyscraper; Kris didn’t get a glimpse of its top. Tires squealed as they took turns at high speed.

  “This is worse than jinking the Wasp,” Penny muttered. “And we had high-gee stations on her.”

  “What’s a high-gee station?” Johnson asked.

  “Something you ought to have if you’re going to drive like this,” Kris shot back, as they came to a noisy halt.

  Kris unstrapped herself fr
om the backseat with much the same relish as she’d unstrapped herself from the crashed Greenfeld Ground Assault Craft on the planet that never got named. She did it quickly, but by the time she had dismounted, a praetorian guard of heavily armed police had flooded the place, leaving open only the route to an elevator.

  Kris headed that way, with Penny and the two inspectors right behind her. Inside, there was only one button to push; Kris waited to see who would push it.

  Finally, Johnson did.

  The elevator took off like a rocket for orbit. Kris remembered to tighten her leg muscles to keep all the blood from rushing to her feet. It wouldn’t do to walk into the new president’s presence only to swoon into his lap.

  Or maybe that was the idea.

  Johnson was saying something about this being an exact replica of an oval office some politician on Earth used to have. Kris nodded. She remembered that office. It was supposed to give the incumbent a major advantage in impressing the visiting team.

  Kris prepared to meet impressive with blasé.

  The room was impressive, and the view out the window was spectacular from like a gazillion stories up. But the man behind the thick oak desk just looked tired as he put down what he been reading and stood as Kris entered.

  He did not extend his hand; Kris did not offer hers. Kris approached to within three or four meters of him and halted. The two of them looked each other over for a long moment. Kris was none too sure what he saw. What she saw was a dark, middle-aged man struggling in a job far too large for him.

  Maybe for any single human being.

  He broke the silence. “So, you’re the little girl that started this great big war.”

  Kris glanced around and shook her head. “I sure don’t see any great big war.”

  That got a snort of laughter from the president. He motioned Kris to a couch and settled into a rocker beside her as the others took places on the couch across from Kris.

  “Not what I hear from your great-grandpadre. At least half the messages I read from our king concern those space aliens and us maybe being at war with them. I wish he’d get some other bee up his nose. Go chasing after some other hobgoblins. I thought space pirates were quite good enough for the old war horse.”