Kris Longknife's Replacement: Admiral Santiago on Alwa Station Read online

  When these three first walked in, she figured she had Ben and Pipra’s needs pretty clear and wondered what this doddering old woman was doing here.

  Big mistake.

  Sandy reviewed the bidding and chose a different tack.

  “Pipra, how is that problem you had when we last met? How are those managers that Alex Longknife sent out here to strip-mine those streams for unique plants?”

  “No problem,” Rita said. “With only a little help from my great granddaughter, Kris Longknife, I bounced their asses so high that the ship they had passage out of here on had to catch them on the way down. They, and a few other of my wayward son Al’s ilk, were told they were persona non gratis in the Alwa system and were lucky to have passage back. Otherwise, I’d put them to work as farm labor, about the only real work they were good for.”

  “And you did this by what authority?” Sandy asked. She was, if she remembered correctly, the only Grand Admiral in the room.

  “By my authority as Granny Rita, and if you insist, Viceroy.”

  Sandy got real soft with her next words. “King Raymond appointed me Viceroy to stand in his stead to the Alwa peoples.”

  “No doubt he appointed you, but did he show you the fine print on his contract with the Alwa Colonials?” the gray-haired woman asked so sweetly.

  Sandy had been shown no fine print. She’d took the King at his word that the big print was all that mattered to him. Damn you, Longknifes!

  When Sandy said nothing, Granny Rita went on. “Kris Longknife was Viceroy only to the Colonials, and that, only if they voted her as such. To the birds, she was at best an ambassador. More like a consular officer to stamp visas. As powerful and powerless as anyone in the flock of flocks.”

  Sandy tried to ignore the word blizzard and pick out the one snowflake in the storm. “The Colonials elected her Viceroy?”

  “Yep. Took a vote. Folks were in an unusually generous mood. They figured it for a wedding gift to Kris, seeing that they were eating her wedding cake and all.”

  “Tricky thing, that,” Admiral Benson put in.

  “You wouldn’t believe how independent these people are down there,” Pipra added. “Likely comes from staying alive with only their own two hands to keep them that way.”

  “Wedding gift,” Sandy echoed.

  “Yep,” Rita answered.

  “And you say I’m going to need to be voted into the Viceroy job?”

  “Yep.”

  Sandy made a face. “Can’t think of anyone I’d really like to marry today.”

  “So, have I got a deal for you,” Rita said, gleefully. “You be the appointed Viceroy here topside, and I’ll be the Viceroy dirtside. I won’t have any problem being voted in. Everything will be just fine. We’ll work together to get everything done just jake.” the old woman finished, her hand, once again, was held out to be shook.

  Sandy leaned well back in her chair and kept her hands on its arms.

  Rita took her hand back.

  It took Sandy a moment to reopen the conversation. “You may recall, Rita, that Santiagos that get too close to one of those damn Longknifes tend to end up dead. You can use any name you want, but right now, a Longknife is what I see sitting across from me. Not wanting to end up dead, I think we two need to talk before we shake hands or sign agreements or cut our thumbs for a blood oath. What’d’ya’say?”

  Rita settled back in her chair. “Seems reasonable.”

  “And, I may need some time before I can get myself to trust you.”

  “If Ray was my only idea of a Longknife, I’d likely agree with you.”

  “Pipra, how’s production going?” Sandy said, changing direct.

  “Fine. The folks we pulled off of the battlecruisers that came in here bent up and limping have pitched in with the hands that stayed moonside. We’ve got the fabs humming again. Now that the story is out that we’ve again kicked some serious alien butt out of Alwa’s sky, we’re getting more Roosters and Ostriches wandering in from the forests and the savannas to ask for jobs that can get them those nice toys they like. I’m using the new recruits on consumer goods and promoting the experienced hands to heavy industry. I won’t bore you with the industrial production goals we’re aiming for, but they’re pretty much what Kris Longknife worked out before she headed off to kill aliens. Plenty for the Navy, plenty for the Colonials and Alwans and some left over so I can grow my base. I’ve already got the three new factories that you brought out settled down near the moon’s north polar region. Right now, I’ve got them working on building a new heavy industry fab.” Granny Rita began to cloud up. Pipra hurried on, “and two more light fabs for consumer products. By the way, you brought out a station and yard ship. We haven’t needed it yet, so we didn’t deploy it pending developments.”

  “Could it be the start of a base above Susquan?” Ben asked.

  “Putting a base out there is not something anyone is going to stampede me into,” Sandy said. “And I’m not going to visit those cats until I feel Alwa is safe.”

  “I heard tell there were some that got away from the last dust up?” Granny Rita asked.

  Sandy scowled. “We got about a third of them, but the others broke up into small groups and hit the jump out of there at different speeds. I imagine they then broke up into smaller groups. Anyway, by the time we took care of the ambush they set up at one jump, the others were long gone, so we headed back.”

  “And got here too late to hold the baby. Oh my, Ruthie is a darling.”

  “I’ve held a few babies in my time,” Sandy answered, dryly, and again changed the subject. “Ben, how’s the base force and yard work going?”

  “While you were gone, we managed to up-armor all forty- eight of the ships you brought out. As you may have noticed, we were ready and waiting for you. I’ve run thirty-two of the less damaged battlecruisers through the yards and they’re now shipshape and Bristol fashion. I’ve held off on the more damaged ships until Admiral Kitano got back so we can see which of her ships should be run through quickly ahead of them.

  “The beam ships are a world of hurt unto themselves. I got all three of them moored together trailing the station by a hundred klicks. Kris Longknife had a repair ship tied up to each one of them before the fight and I’ve added a second. Between the two, they’re doing what they can. There’s no way we can get any of those monsters into a yard. We’ll have to refit them where they lay. As of the latest report, one of them is busted up beyond all hope of repair. The second one might be able to get one beam working if we gave them a week’s notice. The last one has two beams working. If we cannibalized the first ship, we might get that one full up to speed. Then again, I hear that all three were built at different planets and no one paid all that much attention to specs and standards. The folks working on them say they’re more of a work of art than a manufactured product.”

  Sandy had heard something along that line when she was back in human space; this came as no surprise. More were in the pipeline. Hopefully, they’d be built more to a single standard than these three.

  “Did a report on how the beam ships stood up to the pressures of a fight go back with Kris Longknife?” Sandy asked.

  “Full analysis on the failure points of each of the ships.”

  “Good.”

  Benson went on to conclude with, “As I see it, we’ve got ninety-six battlecruisers ready to answer bells. You just brought in another eighty-eight. Some of those will need yard time, like your Victory. For the rest, ma’am, things are getting mighty crowded along the piers.”

  Sandy saw where this was going. “So I either take some of those ships out for a visit to the cats or we have to break out Kiel Station and use it here, at least for a while.”

  “Pretty much, ma’am.” Admiral Benson answered.

  Sandy leaned back in her chair again. She seemed to be doing that a lot.

  “So, you bunch of thieves want me to leave the hen house all to yourselves while I go gallivanting out to see if the ca
ts can be tamed.”

  “Don’t you know, Admiral,” Pipra said through a huge grin, “cats can’t be tamed.”

  “Yeah, right. Okay,” Sandy said, and tapped her commlink. “Get me Kitano.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “I want a full briefing in my flag plot at 0900 hours tomorrow on the defensive situation around the Alwa System. Absent any threats, risks or surprises, I’m looking to take one fleet out for a “show the flag” to Sasquan. I’ll want your recommendations on that idea tomorrow as well as who might be the best admiral and which ships are in the best shape to go.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am. Pardon me for asking, but have those three rascals gotten to you?”

  “Three rascals?”

  “I heard Granny Rita, Ben and Pipra where headed your way.”

  “Yep, they got to me.”

  “Tell them I want to see them at the briefing then. Kris did a pretty good job of keeping me in the loop where that bunch of troublemakers were concerned.”

  “I’ll have them there, Santiago out.”

  Sandy leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her desk. “Do I need a guard dog to guard my guard dogs?”

  “Nobody here but us barkers and biters,” Granny Rita said through a grin that clearly had too much cream in it.

  Suspecting she’d regret this, she extended her hand. Rita took it and they shook.

  “See you at 0900,” Sandy said and the three filed out.

  Chapter 11

  Two weeks later, Grand Admiral Sandy Santiago stood at the elbow of Vice Admiral Drago as his Relentless led his reinforced 4th Fleet into orbit around Sasquan. Trailing them was Kiel Station. It might or might not be permanently deployed here. The success of her negotiations with the cats would determine that.

  Still, with forty battlecruisers, it was better to have the station available, even if it proved temporary.

  Surrounding Sandy on her shared flag bridge were a number of people the cats would find familiar.

  The sociologist Jacques la Duke and his wife, Amanda Kutter, an economist, had taken time away from the many duties they’d taken on in the Colonial government of Alwa to come with Sandy back to Sasquan. Actually, they’d both jumped for the chance to see how things were going with the felines. Sandy couldn’t have kept them away with a club.

  She’d also brought Captain Penny Paisley with her. Penny and Commander Masao were Sandy’s two top experts on the bug-eyed aliens, Penny having lead the scout sweep that found the alien’s home world. Sandy was none too sure she’d need Penny’s expertise on this trip, but Penny was also associated with one of Nelly’s children, Mimzy, and Sandy wanted to get to know one of them.

  Considering the warlike reputation of the cats, Sandy had also brought along General Steve Bruce to command her ships’ Marines in case she had to launch an ground force. He, like Penny, had one of Nelly’s kids that he’d named Chesty.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sandy eyed her newly minted captain. Penny seemed to be a bit uncomfortable with her new rank. Or maybe she was just uncomfortable around Sandy.

  Sandy still remembered when her destroyer, Halsey, had come alongside a tumbling bit of wreckage and her crewmen had pried the beat up and bleeding living people from Kris Longknife’s fast attack boat.

  Kris and Penny had been among the living.

  Tommy, Penny’s husband of just a few days, was among the dead.

  His family had come a quarter of the way across the galaxy from Santa Maria to attend the wedding only a few days earlier. A few days later, they were grouped around a sealed coffin. The Navy had done the best they could to keep it out of the news, but the media had gotten wind of it because a Longknife was involved. The service had turned into a real media circus.

  Sandy had attended because it was her ship’s crew that had recovered the body . . . and because she was a Santiago and Kris was starting to look like her Longknife. Sandy had insisted that Sailors from the Halsey provide the honor guard, fire the salute . . . and bring everyone to cathartic tears with a properly played “Taps.” The Halsey’s XO offered the flag to the grieving widow. Penny had stood, or tried to stand to attention, half supported by her former commanding officer, Kris Longknife.

  Sandy had been studying the two, so she couldn’t help but notice the grief stricken look that swept over both of them at that moment.

  Sandy had to turn away from the raw emotions fleeing across those two women’s faces. Still, she was left with a question she’d never answer. Who was grieving most? The woman who married Tommy or the woman who hadn’t?

  Grand Admiral Santiago shook herself out of the past and back to the present. She turned to Admiral Drago. “How long is that list of people who want to talk to me?”

  “Three feet tall and growing, ma’am,” he said with a grin that would have suited a pirate of old. He’d admitted to Sandy on the voyage out that he was half tempted to rename the Relentless the Golden Hind after Drake’s flag ship. He was a pirate after the admiral’s own heart who had circumnavigated the Earth in the long ago age of exploration because the Spanish had half a fleet out intent on hanging him for stealing their silver and gold.

  “Certainly, none of the people we’ll be dealing with, most especially not those soulless bug-eyed monsters, would get and of the extra meaning in the name.”

  “And how did Kris Longknife take to your idea?”

  The pirate scowled. “The woman has no sense of humor or of history. At least not since she got her third stripe. Certainly not since she made admiral.”

  “So it’s Relentless.”

  “Relentless as ever.”

  Once again, Sandy had to drag her mind back to the business at hand. At least this time, it was from the less distant past. “So, everyone wants part of my time. How considerate of them. Who is actually going to see me this visit?”

  Sandy turned away from the main screen filled with the images of ships doing what they knew very well how to do, thank you very much, so get out of our way and we’ll do it. Sandy had done the proper admiral thing and ordered Kiel Station to stand by to spin itself out, deploy its piers and take on enough spin to provide the “feel” of gravity. Neither Sandy nor anyone else was aware of a time when a station like the Kiel had been ordered to close itself up, suck in its piers, regenerate some rocket motors and get underway again.

  There’s always a first time. Of course, Alwa Station would lead the way.

  While they still had gravity, Sandy lead her team into the day cabin she shared with Admiral Drago. Before they’d deployed on this cruise, the Relentless had been pumped full of another five thousand tons of Smart MetalTM so that it could function as a flagship and support the expanded staff Sandy required. She’d balked at a few things, like installing a Forward Lounge like the one Kris Longknife always seemed to have on her ships.

  Even with no alcohol, she didn’t doubt that Admiral Drago was allowing his crew the freedom of Alwa Station’s new Fraternization Policy.

  “Do you have a woman aboard?” Sandy had asked her new admiral herself.

  “My wife is a Colonial gal,” he explained. “She figures if God had intended people to travel through space, He would not have given us this addiction to oxygen. So, no. My night quarters are my own.”

  They’d chosen to share a Flag plot and bridge, and a single spacious day office, though if matters got loud, they could raise a wall between their desks and do as they pleased.

  They had separate night quarters off the day quarters.

  Seated around a conference table, with their lap belts dogged down, if not snugged in tight, Sandy posed a question to her team. “How have matters changed since you were last here?”

  With a nod from the others, Penny took over the briefing. “We’ve been intercepting their radio and television transmissions since we jumped into the system. Ah, Admiral, when we first were spotted by the Sasquans the time we had to fight off an alien attack on them, Kris Longknife was barraged by messages from eve
ryone, governments, celebrities, advertisers, you name it. She chose to only talk to two kids, Zeth and Frodir. I’ve been in touch with them. They’re both space bitten and about to jump out of their hides to have us back.

  “Their attitude is pretty much an echo, if a bit tinged with childish enthusiasm, for the rest with one exception.”

  Penny paused to clear her throat. “The feline populations fall into four national or rather super-national groups. The Bizalt Kingdom and Columm Almar are two major power blocks that basically dominate the world at this point. Both appear to have a functioning democracy, although we keep getting reports that sometimes legislative issues are resolved by duels. We can’t quite figure out if that is a metaphor or a fact from what we understand of the media reporting. There is a third block, formally ruled rather brutally by a cat named Solzen. She, oh, Admiral, all the players here are female, anyway, she made the mistake of firing rockets at us last visit and Kris flattened her hideaway. That power block is now broken up among several squabbling warlords who don’t seem to live very long and whose boarders are very fluid.

  “Finally, there is a group that call themselves unaligned. They refuse to be part of either of the three main alliances, although recent history shows that they aren’t against joining one side or the other to restore the balance of power. That, a balance of power, appears to be the best peace these folks could hope for. At least before we showed up.”

  “And now?”

  Jacques took over the briefing. “Kris challenged them to a race for their moon. But she insisted that they all had to win it together or she’d declare them all the loser.”

  Sandy ran a hand through her hair as it began to float away. The Relentless was now in free fall. “So, they throw a wad of money into technical research. It does all kinds of things to boast their economy while, at the same time, they discover they share the universe with not one but two alien life forms, one of which wants them dead. How’s that working?”