Furious

10

Captain Luna kept the spurs to Archie. Her words, not Kris’s. Never slowing to below 1.5 gees, they came through the Gamma Jump at New Eden late on the fourth day after leaving Madigan’s Rainbow.

They were immediately informed by High Eden that they had orders to search the Archimedes for a fugitive as soon as she tied up at the station.

Penny suggested they look for a place to hide.

Kris seriously doubted that hiding was what a Longknife did. Of course, she had no desire to handle things Captain Luna’s way . . . walking out the air lock. It took Kris all of five seconds to settle on her own way.

“I didn’t come here to look for a place to hide. I want to find out what Grampa Al is up to. I’ll meet the inspection party on the quarterdeck.”

Penny seemed a bit nonplussed. “I don’t think a gussied-up hussy of a boat like this has a quarterdeck.”

“I’ll meet them at the front door,” Kris growled.

“In what you got on?” Penny asked.

She had a point. Kris had come aboard in her usual nightwear. A Wardhaven U shirt and a pair of Marine Corps red-and-gold gym shorts. Sometimes she wore Navy blue gym shorts. Red and gold was just the luck of the draw that night.

Penny and Kris had not found any clothes in the palatial quarters they shared, but on the second day, a collection of dungarees and blue denim shirts had been passed through the door after a knock. That, and panties and bras, which, to Kris’s great surprise, actually fit. That apparel was what Penny made reference to.

These were work clothes that the engineering division might wear. Solid working clothes for working people who didn’t make contact with the well-heeled passengers who roamed the fancy-dress parts of the ship.

“You thinking we should go aft and mix in with the black gang in Engineering?” Kris asked.

“I’m wondering if that was what Captain Luna had in mind when she got us decked out like this,” Kris’s intelligence chief said. “After all, I doubt Luna really wants to face a charge of harboring a fugitive.”

Kris made a face. Skulking did not fit into any part of the Longknife legend she’d read growing up. Slinking in to blow something up . . . yes. Skulking around to hide your face . . . not so much.

“Let’s wait and see what Captain Luna says,” Kris decided.

Which meant Kris went another round with the coach in the box. Great fun.

Kris was recovering from an hour in the box and enjoying a delicious dinner when Captain Luna trotted in, followed by the steamer trunk Kris had arrived in. She settled herself at the table. It promptly added a place for her, and an equally scrumptious meal appeared before her.

She dug in hungrily.

With her mouth full, she asked. “So, how you going to handle this inspection?”

“I’m not going out the air lock,” Kris said, putting a solid marker down.

The captain made a face as she shoveled in another mouthful. “I didn’t expect you would. What’s your Plan B?”

“Penny, here, thinks we ought to drop down to Engineering and pass ourselves off as part of your black gang. Or just me. You say Penny’s papers are in order.”

“Yep, Penny’s no problem. As usual, it’s you, Princess.”

“And you don’t have an expert forger on board that could knock me out some papers before we tie up?”

Captain Luna laughed. Then she had to cough something up that went down the wrong way. When she settled back down, she scowled at Kris.

“Me, not have the best forger in fifty light-years? Don’t make me laugh. Really, don’t. This is good chow. Be a shame to die from it.”

Kris folded her arms in front of her. “Okay, then we’ll cut to the chase. I prefer Plan C. I meet the inspection party on your quarterdeck or whatever you call that space where folks come aboard.”

Captain Luna eyed Kris sideways. “You sure of that?”

“I admit that I’d like to get a good look at the boarding party before I settle on Plan B or C.”

“I kind of like the way you handled the last boarding party,” Captain Luna said through a grin.

“Which last boarding party?” Kris asked carefully. Her sins were many, and it would be a shame to confuse one with another.

“Those pirates at Port Royal. That was some panic party.”

“How do you know about them?” Kris asked with a sigh.

“Everyone knows about them. The video of you running and them chasing and you finishing ’em up with a mop in the face. It’s the funniest viral video in human space.”

“How’d that get out?” Kris said, eyeing Penny.

“Don’t look at me. I’m right along with you in a truly frumpy dress, running for all I’m worth.”

“Abby!” Kris breathed. “I thought I’d kept that woman too busy to sell anything to her sources.”

Clearly, Kris hadn’t.

“Hmm,” Penny said, eyeing the overhead. “Cara was bragging to me that she was getting real good at video mashups.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Captain Luna chortled, then sobered quickly. “So which of your plans is B and C? You’re dressed to hide out in my engineering spaces. Not so good for greeting and impressing a boarding party. Steamer trunk, open.”

Behind her, the trunk’s two sides slid apart. The yacht skipper left the table, chewing on a big bite, and rummaged through the contents of what had accompanied Kris aboard. Among the air cylinders and minimum life-support food rations was a carefully hung suit: beige, in Berber wool, complete with blouse and two-inch matching heels.

“Princess enough for you, Your Highness,” Captain Luna read from a note in Abby’s perfect handwriting.

“It will do,” Kris said. “When do we match air locks?”

“In half an hour. I really should be getting back to my bridge. Between the knuckleheads in my bridge watch and the illiterate computers the owner dumped on me for the ship, this scow could probably steer itself for a couple of dozen jumps and dockings. Still, a good captain doesn’t let her crew know just how superfluous she is.”

“I’ll remember that when . . . or if . . . I ever get a ship of my own,” Kris said.

“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.