Undaunted

15

General Mac’s office looked familiar. The first time Kris marched in, it had been intimidating. That morning she’d been a boot ensign under charges for mutiny. Intimidation came easy.

Not tonight.

Now the place had a familiarity that didn’t quite breed contempt. The walls needed a new coat of paint, and the drapes at the windows were threadbare in places. No, this was a place where busy people spent too many of their hours concentrating on matters that had nothing to do with their surroundings.

Kris’s eyes were drawn to the coffee table between the two couches. Tiny teeth had left their imprint on one corner. Kris wondered what the story was behind them. And hoped they weren’t left over from a very early visit she didn’t remember.

As usual, General Mac McMorrison, Chairman of Wardhaven’s Joint Staff, was behind his desk. Tonight, he wasn’t busy with the inevitable paperwork. He couldn’t ignore his company.

Not Kris’s team; he could ignore them with ease. No, he had company well before Kris got here.

King Raymond, the first of that name, lounged in Mac’s visitor’s chair on the right of his desk. Admiral Crossenshield, Chief of Wardhaven Intelligence and other dirty deals, had the visitor’s chair to Mac’s left. Behind them, leaning casually against a bookcase, was Grampa Trouble, officially retired General Tordon, but just Trouble to most who knew him . . . and to a whole lot who never made his official acquaintance. He flashed Kris a tight smile.

She returned it and led her team to the couches. She took the overstuffed chair, the farthest from Grampa Ray, but facing him. The couches filled up on both sides of her, Jack to her left, Abby to her right. Both close. That left Penny and Colonel Cortez taking the seats closest to the king and his officers.

Penny was used to this situation. Colonel Cortez, who’d faced Kris in battle and surrendered without so much as a blink, looked just a tad intimidated. He’d get over that by next visit.

Before Kris could get comfortable, Grampa Ray started without preamble. “What took you so long?”

“I took the scenic route.”

“So what you messaged me wasn’t that important.” Grampa Ray had mastered sarcasm while still in diapers.

“Oh, it’s important. But Nelly had some developmental problems. I was concerned, since she’s the best translator we had for Iteeche. So we stopped by Trudy Seyd on Alien 1 for some counseling.”

“And you saw no need to tell us?” Ray shot back at her.

“You hadn’t answered my first message,” Kris said easily. “It seemed to me you didn’t want to clutter up the message buffers with text that had Iteeche in them. Was it you or Grampa Trouble who told me ciphers were made to be broken?”

Grampa Trouble’s grin got a smidgen wider. Admiral Crossenshield pulled out his wallet and handed a bill to Mac, who passed it to the king. He pocketed it without glancing at it.

“So I assume Nelly is fine, now.”

“Wasn’t anything wrong with me,” Nelly put in. “We just needed to talk a few things over. Like what it feels like to be the one that actually pulls the trigger that kills five thousand people.”

That got a lot of eyes widened around the desk. What it did to Grampa Trouble’s grin was hard to describe.

“Yes,” the king went on, “I heard about the liner. Sorry about that, Nelly. You hang around a Longknife’s neck, and you’ll have to learn how to cope with things like that.”

“Kris and I spent some time talking about it. She was a lot more feeling about it than you are.”

“The first time you do it, you feel it. After you do it a couple of hundred times, you can’t afford to feel all that much. You’ll learn.”

“Kris, you sure you did the right thing, talking this guy into doing the king thing?”

“No, I’m not sure, Nelly. It may be the first of many great mistakes in my life,” Kris said softly. Around her, the room seemed to have forgotten to breathe.

Grampa Ray gave out a tired sigh. “I’m glad to see you’re learning.” The room started breathing again. “I understand you gave that Peterwald girl a critique on her efforts to kill you on Eden.”

“I thought of it more as girl talk among two junior officers, sir.”

Grampa Ray took the cash he’d won on one bet and sent it back to Crossenshield. The admiral did not put it in his wallet, but pocketed it, ready to cover the next loss.

“You think that was smart?” Grampa Ray asked.

“Jack here agrees with you,” Kris said, giving her security chief a nod. He scowled at the recognition. “Only time will tell if the two of us can be anything but enemies. Crossie, did you get the pictures I sent you of the head of Greenfeld State Security?”

“I got them, but they weren’t that much use.”

“How come?”

“He was dead of a stroke by the time we got his picture. You know anything about that?”

“It was a six-millimeter stroke, I’d wager. Vicky may not have actually pulled the trigger, but she most likely called the shot. Not that I know anything about it, you understand,” Kris said.

The wager was headed back to the king. It made Kris feel kind of nice to know her great-grandfather was betting on her. She’d be sad the day she lost him real money.

She’d also likely be dead.

“How are things in Greenfeld territory?” Kris asked. It was none of her business, and she liked it that way, but she was curious how Vicky was doing at staying one step ahead of her own assassins.

“Peterwald’s Navy is pretty much tied up at the dock. Officers and sailors are heavily involved in keeping order, not that there is rioting in the streets, but there have been a few reports of landing parties busting into State Security offices and taking away the black shirts for questioning.”

“Vicky alive so far?” Kris asked.

“She’s limping a bit from a bomb that went off too close.”

“Next time I see her, I’ll suggest she have one of her people talk to my chief Beni. He’s pretty good at that.”

“Don’t forget my nanosniffers,” Nelly put in.

“I never will, Nelly. They really come in handy.”

“Okay, we’ve had enough chitchat,” Grampa Ray snapped. “What’s this about an Iteeche embassy?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Kris couldn’t stop herself from saying.

“Well, I’ve asked. What was an Iteeche doing in our space?”

“It wasn’t really our space or his space. I was out beyond both of our rims, and he was dodging fire from two Greenfeld cruisers.”

“Peterwald was shooting at him!” Ray said.

“Trying to, but mostly missing,” Kris said.

“And hitting us,” Nelly put in. “That was when I decided to shoot back, and Kris grounded me because she was afraid I’d start a war with Greenfeld. Now I know, Nelly is not allowed to start a war. I’m also not going to fire on any humans without Kris’s permission. Right, Kris?”

“Right, Nelly.”

“You really did need that stop with Trudy. Didn’t you?” Grampa Trouble said.

Kris just nodded.

“So why was an Iteeche wandering near our space?” King Ray said, getting them back on that track.

“He said he wanted to see you, to talk to you,” Kris said.

“About what?”

“That he won’t say. His grampa made him promise on all he holds sacred that he wouldn’t tell anyone but you.”

“Iteeche don’t have grampas, they’re all bastards,” Grampa Ray growled

“Choosers,” Kris corrected. “You knew his chooser, Roth’sum’We’sum’Quin.”

“That son of a bitch,” Ray turned to glance at Trouble, who was shaking his head. “The only question in the bargaining was whether I’d slit his throat before he slit mine, heh, Trouble?”

“Seemed that way many a day,” Trouble agreed. “So he’s still aboveground and kicking?”

Kris didn’t bother pointing out that this conversation was departing significantly from at least two historians’ direct quotes from Ray. She swallowed her question and answered his. “That’s what Ron tells me. Roth chose him and raised him to be an ambassador to us humans, to open up communications between us. He thinks it’s been too long that we’ve ignored each other.”

“No surprise that,” Trouble said. “We knew this day would come.”

“But not while the wound was still fresh,” Ray said, turning back to Kris. “There were too many dead between us. Too much hatred.”

“When will it change?” Kris asked.

“Won’t ever change while my generation is alive. So long as there are vets with Iteeche blood on their hands, who saw their buddies die on Iteeche blades, we can’t sit down at the same table.”

“We have to,” Kris said. “Or at least we need to.”

“Maybe your kid, Kris, maybe the guppy this Ron kid chooses, but it’s too soon. Too soon,” Ray said softly.

“Strange, that’s kind of what Ron said, too. There’s a lot of Iteeche Heroes of the Great Human War still walking around, damn proud to have fought us, still remembering their buddies that didn’t make it home. I think Roth and Ron and I would agree with you. Except, despite all of that, Ron is here.”

“Why?” Grampa Trouble snapped.

“I don’t know. He won’t tell me. But I really do think that he and his grampa deserve a hearing. Grampa”—here Kris looked at Ray and then Trouble—“I want you to come up to the Wasp and let him have his say. I don’t often ask for a favor, but if I have any on account, I’d like to call it in.”

King Ray snorted. “You’ve only done your duty. I refuse to owe you for that.”

“But she has done a Longknife’s duty,” Trouble put in,

“and she’s done damn good at it. Besides, aren’t you just a wee bit curious as to what Roth would have to say after all these years?”

King Ray took in a deep breath, eyed the ceiling for a moment, and let it out slowly. “This could be a try at killing us. Maybe Roth regrets that he didn’t get around to slitting our throats back then and wants to correct his error.”

“We all decided to let each other live,” Trouble said. “Kris, what’s your take on this?”

“Paranoia runs deep in our family, sir,” didn’t get a smile from the rest of the room. Old joke? No, too true. “Jack, Beni, and Nelly have done everything they could think of to search out weapons, explosives, extrasharp knifes. Ron brought an honor guard of four Marines. They have their weapons, but only the clips in them. Their bandoleers are empty.” Kris let that sink in.

“Grampa Ray, one of the reasons we did the long way around to get here was to give us time to search every nook and cranny around them and to get to know them. I’ve come to believe they really are what they say they are.”

“Got to know him, huh?” the king said.

“Yep.”

“I don’t know him. I don’t want to know him.”

Was there nothing she could do to get Grampa Ray moving? Was there something else weighing on his mind? She had only one card left to play. Hopefully, he still had a sense of humor.

“Grampa, you knew someday I’d bring a boy home to the family. Whether or not you wanted to meet him, you’d have to. Well, consider Ron my boy that you just have to meet.”

Trouble barked a laugh. Mac and Crossie looked like they’d swallowed something sour.

Grampa Ray eyed Kris, then slowly shook his head. “An Iteeche son-in-law. I ought to call your momma.”

“I kind of hope you won’t.”

“Can you imagine Brenda’s reaction to having an Iteeche walk in her door?” Ray said, turning in his chair to Trouble.

“I’m not even welcome in her house,” Trouble noted.

“Where do you want me to meet this boy?” Grampa Ray said, sitting up kingly straight in his chair to face Kris.

“I was figuring on you going up to the Wasp.”

“We can’t move the king around town very quietly,” Crossenshield said, not to mention safely.

“It would be even harder bringing a half dozen Iteeche down to meet him here.”

“Girl’s got a point,” Mac said, opening his mouth for the first time. “Not easy bringing a mountain to Mohammed.”

“Yeah,” the intel chief said, “but we got ourselves two mountains here.”

“It’s easier for me to sneak up the beanstalk than it is to sneak down a seven-foot-tall four-legs,” King Ray said. “I’ll see him tomorrow night. Girl, you got anything else?” he asked, standing up, broadcasting to all that he really didn’t want anything more.

“Yes, Grampa, I have a question.”

Ray paused in his exit. Mac and Crossie were also standing by now. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Why didn’t you use radioactives, ah, fusion and fission bombs,” Kris corrected herself as Nelly fed her the right words, “against the Iteeche?”