Defender

20

There was a lot to get moving.

“Ada,” Granny Rita ordered, “get back to the reception and get the word circulating that anyone who wants a trip back home needs to be at the fleet landing in the next two to four hours.”

“That fast?” Ada asked.

“First, we got to get Raymond distracted. Second, we don’t want any of those leaving to know too much about the wedding.”

“Good point,” Ada said, and headed back for Government House.

“Nelly,” Kris said, “contact Captain Drago.”

“Yes, Commodore Viceroy, or whatever I should call you.”

“We’ll figure that out later. Listen, Granny Rita isn’t in quite as bad a shape as we thought. You can cancel the emergency team.”

“How not bad?”

“She’s going to be doing a wedding in four hours.”

“Oh. Anyone I know?”

“Just me and Jack.”

“Finally! You are, of course, inviting all the ship’s officers and senior chiefs and NCOs.”

“Of course, but there is this problem.”

“Isn’t there always where Longknifes are involved? What is it this time?”

“You’ve heard the king plans to make me Commander, Alwa Defense Sector?”

“Yep. It’s on all the best gossip shows.”

“Well, as soon as he does that, Jack goes back into my chain of command, and we can’t get married. We’ve got to do this before the orders are issued.”

“Smart. Very smart. I smell Granny Rita’s hand in this.”

“She’s doing the wedding,” Kris said dryly.

“So, you don’t want the Wasp’s comm center to log your orders until after the wedding.”

Kris sighed. It would be so easy to take the skipper up on the offer. “No, Captain, we are not going to do anything like that. If the orders come in before Jack and I say ‘I do,’ the whole thing is off. Bring anyone down here to the wedding that you want, but leave someone in charge of the comm center you can count on to pass those orders immediately to Nelly.”

“And you’ll make sure that Nelly tells you?”

As often, the skipper had a good point. “Also have him call you on net. So, you see, you’re all invited to the wedding, but we can’t let the other ships in the fleet know what’s going on. Certainly not the Monarch.”

“Mum’s the word. Oh, I’m going to send down the emergency medical team anyway. They’re ready to go, and if we don’t send them, it would cause talk.”

“Okay,” Kris said, “heaven knows there were enough old folks at the reception that they ought to be able to keep the docs busy for a week.”

“What time’s the wedding?”

“In four hours if I can pull it off.”

“We’ll be there, Kris. Don’t you go walking down any aisle before we get there.”

“I don’t even have a wedding dress. I’m having a hard time believing that even Granny Rita can pull this all off in four hours.”

“Well, you left here in dress whites. Oh, was Jack in dress red and blues?”

“Yes, he is,” Kris said.

“Good. I don’t have to find a uniform for him. Bye, dear, have fun, I hear there’s nothing quite as joyful as wedding prep.”

“Good-bye, Captain Drago,” Kris said dryly to his lie.

This wedding was not to be a simple elopement. It seemed that every two or three months there was a wedding; one of Granny Rita’s great-grandkids or godchildren or just someone from the crew that wanted his latest descendant married by the old skipper.

For example, the ring bearer, a lad of five, had admirably performed that service three times in the last six months. Each time with more and more proficiency and less and less hijinks.

He was eager to do it again. Of course, his dress pants were tight and very high up his legs, but his mother assured Kris she had socks just as black as the pants. The cute little coat proved totally unusable. The shirt and tie would do if the top button was left undone.

Kris was offered two choices: break in a new five-year-old and break this one’s heart, or go with the boy who pleaded so artfully for the chance, even if he was the very advertisement for back-to-school shopping.

Kris let the boy do it again. After all, Rita said all the couples he’d handled the ring for were still happily married. That was more than she could claim.

Kris checked with Nelly. Only three and three-quarters of an hour of marriage preparations left. How could women stand months of this?

The three flower girls also turned out to be a bit long in the tooth and short on the hemline. All of eight, all experienced, all pleading for just one more chance to walk down the aisle strewing flowers. Oh, and they knew where to get the best flowers and how to convert them to petals themselves.

Kris assented, wondering just how short their dresses would be when they showed up.

That brought Kris to her own choice of wedding dress. She was not getting married in uniform. Not her.

Three dresses were readily at hand. The first bride had been petite, a tiny slip of a thing. They held the dress up to Kris and put it back in the protective bag.

The second bride had been pregnant at the time. It was a bit longer, but it had space in all the places Kris didn’t need. Back into the box for that one, too.

The third bride had all the curves Kris dreamed off. All of them and then some. She was taller than the other two. With help, Kris managed to settle the dress around her shoulders and watch as it fell . . . to well above her knees. The waist was a bit tight, but she could give up deep breaths for a few hours. The bust was . . . way too busty.

“We can handle that with a few stitches,” a woman with needle already in hand said. Kris held her breath as the woman began to sew Kris into the dress.

In her dreams, Kris had a wonderfully long train. This dress didn’t get near the floor, much less trail along nicely. But, on reflection, considering the wedding dress Mother had been eyeing the last time she and Kris had met in a bridal shop, this wasn’t at all bad.

She was getting married to Jack. She was doing it without violating Navy regs. Minor things like trains she could just do without.

They did, however, have a veil for her. White and lacy, it had been hand sewn for Granny Rita’s last wedding and used at more weddings since then than anyone had bothered to count. It covered Kris and even managed to trail a bit below the hem.

Someone found a white pair of shoes that didn’t hurt too much, especially if she didn’t put them on until she walked down the aisle. Kris was ready a whole thirty minutes early.

“Nelly, any word from the Wasp’s comm center?”

“No, Kris, and I’ve been doing some snooping. The lawyers are still debating three phrases, and the king is having a ball talking to twenty-seven eager young men and women. He’s telling tales that would curdle your blood and are, based upon our analysis with Ron the Iteeche, most likely untrue. Still, he’s laughing, they’re enjoying being scared, and no one is pushing the lawyers to finish up their work, so they’re arguing to their little hearts’ content. I don’t have a cent to bet, but if I did, I’d say you’re gonna pull this off. By the way, should I try to locate anyone to walk you down the aisle?”

Kris had been giving the matter some thought in her immense spare time. Her father and Grampa Trouble were all the way on the other side of the galaxy. To ask King Ray to do the honor that was rightfully his as the senior male member of her family present would give the whole thing away and likely end any prospect for a wedding.

Captain Drago had come to mind, but he was about to become her subordinate. Nope, Kris Longknife had to face it, there was just no one to give her away but herself.

And that wasn’t a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.

“No, Nelly. No need to search for anyone.”

Government House had proven too small for the royal reception. There was, however, a large adobe church that had been built by the community shortly after they landed. Every Sunday it was shared by the Catholics and Protestants. Saturday it held temple, and Friday the Moslems met for prayer. A small Buddhist community even managed to find a place in the building’s busy schedule as did an Atheists’ Wednesday Potluck. There now were separate buildings for most of the different faith expressions, but they still put the Chapel of Thanksgiving to use.

And it was often used for weddings.

They’d reserved it for Kris.

She found herself standing in a small room off the foyer with Penny and Abby, her two bridesmaids. After careful evaluation of the options, it was agreed that both of them were maids of honor. Kris had no idea who was standing up with Jack.

This wedding was open to a lot of surprises.

The first of several was when the Wasp’s crew marched in, in formation and all in dress blues uniforms. Kris finally got to see what rank they had earned before they signed on with her contract crew.

No surprise, Captain Drago had lied. He had sewn on his rear admiral’s stripes and been chained to that desk before he slipped loose and took off with the Wasp.

Kris didn’t know which was the biggest surprise from Cookie. He wore a full admiral’s uniform with the wide stripe and three thinner stripes climbing up his arm. And the uniform fit him. Apparently, he’d been liking his own cooking for a long time.

There was Kris’s crew, admirals and captains, finally showing their true colors as they came to celebrate her wedding. Every one of her enlisted types were senior chiefs. Many were command master chiefs. As much as Kris hated Crossie, he had gotten her the cream of the crop.

And all of these officers had accepted demotions to lieutenants so they could fight under her command.

Brides were permitted to cry. It was a good rule, that. Kris’s eyes were tearing up. Abby produced a tissue. “There’s more where that came from.”

“Thanks.”

The ring bearer was getting fidgety. He had two rings to take care of. Granny Rita had given Kris a copper ring to give to Jack, the norm for a colonial wedding. If there was gold in any of them there hills, no one had had time to go hunting for it.

Jack, however, had tied a gold ring on the kid’s tiny white pillow.

“Where did that come from?” Kris asked.

“I bought it at the exchange on HellFrozeOver,” he said. “It was my pledge to you and myself that I was going to find you, and someday, even if hell did freeze over, I was going to put it on your finger.”

Yes, brides were permitted to cry. A day like this just had too much joy to stay locked up even in a Longknife’s soul.

An organ, hand built over the last eighty years, began to play.

“That’s my song,” the ring bearer announced, and began his slow walk down the aisle.

The flower girls, all in dresses way too short, went next, in single column, carefully tossing just a few flower petals each time they reached in and grabbed a fistful. They also had the two step down just right. Right step forward, then bring up the left foot. Left step forward, then bring up the right foot.

They were all doing it in perfect cadence to the music.

With a look back at Kris, Abby, then Penny followed the kids down the aisle.

Kris was finally alone.

“Nelly, anything?”

“Not a word, Kris, I swear. The lawyers are still yammering. Grampa Ray has taken the kids to dinner, and he’s still spinning wild tales. Crossie is up to something, but he’s got it in a single-use code that I might crack in a month if I concentrated on it. You are good to go, and speaking of go, I think that’s your music.”

Kris took a deep breath, which strained the dress, set a smile on her face, not too friendly, not too standoffish, not too much teeth, the thing her mother had had her practice in front of a mirror when she was thirteen, and stepped off.

The temptation to race down the aisle was there, but the kids were doing so well, and Abby and Penny were staying strung out just right that Kris settled into the two step easily. After all, she’d practiced it a lot as a maid of honor.

The colonists had let the Navy have the first three pews in front, which meant Kris was met with a solid wall of grins and smiles and applause by the colonials as she started the long walk.

And Mother’s practiced smile went out the door.

Kris found a smile that was all her own. One that showed all the joy she could not hold inside for a moment more. Sometimes it was as wide open as the sky, other times it retreated back to just an enigmatic thing, but full of happiness.

Then she saw Jack.

He was standing beside Granny Rita with Gunny Brown and Captain Hayakawa, the skipper of the Imperial Marine company.

As happened so often, Jack was in his dress blue and reds. Kris had seen him in them time after time, but not like he looked today. Was it the way he stood, eagerly leaning forward to get a better look at her, or the big smile that he didn’t even try to hide?

Kris thought she’d been smiling before, but she found a whole new smile for Jack at that moment.

The walk down the aisle seemed to fly by yet take forever, but she was finally there, in front of the altar, with Granny Rita wearing some kind of black robe with a white shawl or stole or whatever the preachers called that thing they wore.

Jack offered her his hand and she took it, leaned on it, and felt wonderful.

Penny and Abby lifted back Kris’s veil, as if Jack didn’t already know exactly who it was coming his way, and they turned to face Granny Rita.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two in Holy Matrimony. Those of you who haven’t slept through all my weddings that you’ve attended no doubt know that I have some serious thoughts on marriage and tend to share them at length.”

That drew chuckle from the colonials.

“However, as those of you who are my old shipmates may remember, Navies have rules against things called fraternization, and we are met this afternoon in a small window between when these fine folks are just fellow pilgrims in uniform and when one of them is going to be handed the unenviable job of being commander of a whole lot of people, not the least of which is the person standing next to her.

“Thus, I’m going to skip a whole lot of advice and assume that during the last five years of these two fussing and fighting together, they’ve got a pretty good idea of what half of marriage is all about.”

The chuckles to that one came strongest from the Navy pews.

“So, I’m going to jump right to that part where I ask if there is anyone present who knows of any reason these two should not be joined in Holy Matrimony? Let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

NELLY?

NOTHING.

Still, Kris glanced over her shoulder. Captain Drago tapped his ear and shook his head. No message traffic.

YOU DON’T TRUST ME.

ON THIS, NELLY, I CAN’T. YOU LOVE ME TOO MUCH.

No surprise, the church was as quiet as it could be.

“That cleared up, Kristine Anne Longknife, do you take Juan Francisco Montoya to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold him, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, leaving all others and cleaving only to him? To honor and respect him so long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Kris found she could barely whisper through a suddenly dry throat.

“Juan Francisco Montoya, do you take Kristine Anne Longknife as your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold her, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, leaving all others and cleaving only to her? To honor and respect her so long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” rang out in a voice that could be heard across a battlefield.

“Do you have rings?”

The five-year-old proudly lifted his pillow above his head so Jack could easily take the ring of gold for Kris. He slipped it over her finger and, smiling, said, “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Kris quickly did the same with her simple copper ring. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Granny Rita took over again. “Then, by the powers invested in me by the colonists of Alwa, for no reason I can imagine, I pronounce you man and wife. Folks, it’s traditional to give each other a kiss.” Then in a lower voice she added, “And don’t make it a peck, either or I’ll think I wasted that beach cottage reservation.”

Jack took Kris in his arms and kissed her. Really kissed her. Kissed her enough to satisfy even Granny Rita.

Kris went weak in the knees. She found her back bending and Jack’s powerful arms around her as her only support.

One of the flower girls was heard to say, in one of those small voices that eight-year-olds have that can fill a huge church, “Get a room.”

Jack broke from the kiss and helped Kris get settled back on her feet. His grin was pure joy. Well, maybe a lot joy with a bit of possession thrown in. That guy kind of thing that says to the world, “Look at the woman who’s made herself mine.”

Kris was saved from having to begin the march back down the aisle on wobbly knees by the Navy contingent. The officers filed out of their pews and slow-marched for the door.

Crossed sabers, Kris thought as Nelly said it. AN ANCIENT NAVY TRADITION, Nelly added.

A wise old chief had once asked a young ensign Kris if she were Navy or just passing through. Now, a commodore and walking under crossed sabers on her wedding day, Kris didn’t feel like she could get much more Navy than this.

The officers gone, Kris and Jack started down the aisle. Kris was now leading the procession rather than following it. Her progress was slow. There were lots of hands to shake. This afternoon she did so gingerly, just a touch. Some of the older women offered Kris a cheek and Kris gave out a lot of pecks, nothing like what Jack had given her. Beside her, Jack was showing that he knew how to peck a cheek as well.

There were well-wishers and happy smiles. The progress seemed to take forever, but Kris finally found herself approaching the doors of the old church.

“Present arms,” came in Captain Drago’s voice. Make that Rear Admiral Drago’s voice.

Navy sabers slid out of their scabbards and crossed before her. Kris and Jack ducked a bit. Most Navy sabers were only sharp enough to cut wedding cakes, but you never could tell.

Kris went down the line giving her officers the best bride smile she could manage. She owed them all so much. Like any officer on official business, they stood at attention, eyes focused on their sabers.

KRIS, KEEP AN EYE ON ADMIRAL COOKIE, Nelly warned. PART OF THE TRADITION IS FOR ONE OF THE OFFICERS TO HIT THE NEW NAVY BRIDE ON THE RUMP.

HE WOULDN’T DARE, Kris answered, and gave the full admiral her commander’s eye.

His face stayed full deadpan, his eyes up, like all the rest.

Kris walked past him, sure she’d established herself.

And got a hard swipe on her butt with his saber.

“Ouch, that hurt,” she said, more startled than really pained.

“You’ve put in five years as a Navy officer and you know the pain of it. Now you’re a Navy wife, and sorry, dear heart, but there’s a whole new set of hurts to meet. Just ask my wife, God rest her soul.”

Kris dropped out of the mistreated bride routine and stepped back to give the old admiral a hug.

“Thanks for the advice and the warning,” she whispered in his ear.

Then the formality of the military disintegrated as the colonials started to make their way out of the church. Government House was to be the scene of the reception. It seemed that King Raymond’s hasty exit had left it and leftovers available.

Several cakes, including a many-tiered wedding cake, had been baked in just five hours and were waiting for them.

There were lots of traditions to fulfill.

Kris tossed her bouquet of flowers. With Nelly, it was easy to know exactly where to toss it. However, it was none too easy to choose whom she wanted to get it. Abby and Sergeant Bruce had been exchanging looks that Kris couldn’t miss out of the corner of her eyes no matter how much Jack held central place.

And Penny had frequently turned to get a look at the Musashi lieutenant. And Amanda Kutter and her boyfriend were so ready.

The three of them happened to flock together at just the right moment and Kris let fate decide. Amanda outjumped the other two, not that Abby even put her hand up.

Hmm.

There were pictures, including the obligatory picture of the bride and groom feeding each other the first slice of cake. This always ended up hilariously with the two smearing cake and icing all over each other’s faces.

Many times as maid of honor, Kris swore she’d handle this just fine.

Only, the people snapping pictures kept yelling “look here, look here,” and snapping flashes so Kris could hardly see Jack and, no doubt, he couldn’t really see her.

And everyone had a great laugh as Kris and Jack smeared each other’s faces.

Jack saw Kris’s frustration and whispered in her ear. “Don’t take that too seriously. It’s intended to be a mess. Laugh, and they’ll all laugh with you.”

So Kris laughed, and they did all laugh with her.

There was a tradition about a first dance, and Kris was getting ready for that when Granny Rita somehow got control of the mike from the bandmaster.

“Folks, I don’t know how many of you managed to lay your hands on a gift for the bride and groom. I know I didn’t. But there is one very special gift we could give both them and ourselves.

“All of you who’ve listened know what I think of Ray Longknife, or King Raymond as he is now. He’s headed out of our system and back to human space as we speak. He’s got a collection of 173 planets that are banded together back there. I’m glad to have him back there and us over here.”

Not a few people in the crowd agreed with her. A few didn’t, but not a whole lot.

“But the fact remains that there are seven U.S. warships over our head, ready to defend us to the death. Right now, they’re there, and we’re here, and there’s no tie that binds us together. As someone who’s commanded ships and worked hard with most of you to put together a colony here, I know that’s not good.”

The crowd seemed unsure where this was going, but no one moved to shut down the old woman.

“We can’t join the United Society. Seems you have to have a single government. Can you imagine us and the Alwans agreeing on one government for this planet?”

“Can you see the Alwans agreeing on anything?” came from the floor.

“So true, but the U.S. is offering us associated membership. We get to rule ourselves, and they get to stay to hell and gone on the other side of the galaxy. But we do create a tie with the warships protecting us.

“If we vote for this associated membership, our blushing bride here gets to be our viceroy, assuming we elect her as such. She’ll command the fleet as a Navy officer, and as viceroy, she can meet as a civilian leader with Ada and talk civilian stuff. To me, it sounds like a win-win proposition. What do you say?”

At that point, Ada did step in and take the mike away from Granny. “We’ve told you before, and we’ll tell you again, Granny Rita, your chief emeritus status does not allow you to put proposals before the Council of Ministries or the General Council.”

“Well, you’re all here, and I just did,” Granny shouted back at the mike, and her words filled the hall.

Ada sighed and took a long, slow look around the room. She nodded to several people, then took a deep breath. “We have a proposal from the floor, and seeing that we do have a quorum present, I am willing to entertain discussion, assuming the blushing bride doesn’t mind Granny Rita hijacking her wedding reception.”

“I am the one King Raymond nominated for this viceroy thing though my commission hasn’t been issued. It does require a vote of the colonials before it becomes operational. It kind of would be a nice wedding present, as Granny said.”

“Okay, let’s see if we understand the motion properly. If we vote for associated membership in the United Society, Ray will stay on his side of the galaxy, and I’ll be dealing with you. Right?”

“Yes.”

“We will establish a proper civilian military relationship between us and the ships above us.”

“And if the relationship faces strains,” Kris said, “we can negotiate adjustments.”

“I like that,” came from the floor.

“You’re the viceroy,” Ada said, eyeing Kris.

“If you reject me, it would take several years to get another nominee here.”

“But we get to approve any viceroy nominee,” came again from the floor.

“That’s what the draft of my commission says.”

“When’s it going to be finalized?”

“Before King Raymond jumps out of the system, I hope,” Kris said.

“Has anyone seen what this associated membership says?”

“It’s short. You rule yourselves any way you chose. I am empowered to deal with your government. Also, I can open negotiations with anyone and sign draft peace treaties to present to the U.S. Senate.”

“As in negotiate with the bastards?” came from several people on the floor.

Kris sadly nodded her head. “Yes, I can. You know that so far, they won’t even talk to us. If, suddenly they change their mind, this puts me in a place to do something.”

“That’s got to be worth a lot.”

“And she did save our bacon. Who hasn’t seen the pictures of those monsters?”

“I have a proposal properly presented,” Ada said. “Is there a second?”

One came quickly.

“Discussion?”

“What’s there to discuss? I say let’s call for the question.”

Ada didn’t even bat an eyelash. “I have a call for the question. Is there a second?”

“You’re all going to be sorry about this.”

“Harry, you always say we’ll be sorry about everything.”

“And I’m right half the time.”

While this was going on, a second was made for calling the question.

“All those for applying for associated membership in the U.S., and operating as if we are until we hear differently, and accepting Her Royal Highness, Princess Longknife as our viceroy, indicate by saying yes.”

“Is she a Longknife or a Montoya?” got drowned by a flood of “Yes.”

“All nays.”

“She’s a damn Longknife. I say we’ll be sorry.”

“Harry,” Ada asked with exasperation, “is that a nay?”

“No.”

“Then the proposal is carried unanimously. Will somebody please start the music?” said Ada. “I want to dance.”

So they commenced to dance the night away, as befitted a bunch of enthusiastic survivors, and one happy princess.