Furious

38

“Nelly, we really could use the last two codes,” Kris said as softly and as patiently as she could manage. Sitting on top of a half-operational shuttle was bad enough. Stuck like a sitting duck in a location where everybody and his brother, sister, cat, and dog knew where she was was the last place she needed to be.

“Keep your shirt on,” Nelly snapped. “I’ve got you three of the lockout codes. I’ll have the other two in plenty of time.”

“Time we don’t have,” Penny said, beating Kris to it.

“The gangplank is clear,” Penny announced from where she sat, toward the back of the shuttle, her automatic out and covering said plank, as well as the loading area. “Nobody in sight.”

“Nobody is dumb enough to storm a shuttle that’s about to take off?” Nelly said.

“Concentrate on the codes,” Kris said. “Let me worry about how courageous or smart these rent-a-cops are.” Kris truly hoped courage was not in their job description. It hadn’t been apparent in her hiring brief.

“Fourth code. Only one more left,” Nelly announced. “How’s your preflight checklist coming?”

With that jab, Kris turned back to Jack. “What’s next?”

The shuttle was kept at five minutes in its countdown. When Grampa Al chose to get out of Dodge, he didn’t want to have to wait. From the flight-deck log, a log that verified Kris’s worst nightmare . . . this shuttle was seven years old and had never flown an inch . . . it was apparent that a qualified pilot checked out the shuttle every week. Its last prelaunch check had been the day before yesterday.

Kris truly hoped that Grampa Al spent more on his “Get the hell out of here,” option than he did on the security of his outer perimeter.

Kris and Jack reached the end of their checklist. The matter/antimatter reactor was heating water. The controls were unlocked and moving. The electronics were awake and ready to fly. The hatch was sealed. Only the actual launch sequencer button was still refusing to let them in. Kris could push the button all day and get nothing for her effort.

“Nelly, we won. You’re the holdup.”

“Don’t joggle my elbow. This is an unbelievably long code. I’m getting there. I’m getting there. Yes! Push that button. We’re going places,” Nelly crowed.

“Nelly, slight adjustment to the launch. I don’t want to wreck this place more than I have to. Can you give it the minimum burn that will get us a thousand meters up before you really kick us in the butt?”

“Good Lord, Kris, you want everything,” Penny growled.

“I warned you that I didn’t want to do any more damage to Grampa Al’s haunt than I had to.”

“Launch profile adjusted, Kris. Now can we get out of here? I don’t know what they have in store for me if you’re caught, but I strongly suspect it doesn’t involve hanging around your neck.”

Kris pushed the launch button.

And found herself holding her breath as she felt the roar of the engines beneath her . . . and watched the building slowly slide by her at a walking pace.

“Is this such a good idea?” Jack asked.

“I have no idea, but how many custodians and cleaning women do you want to crisp tonight?” Kris shot back.

Jack had no answer for that.

Slowly. Painfully slowly. The shuttle rose.

Outside Kris’s window, the night fled as the shuttle created its own dawn.

Kris forced herself to breathe. How long could it take a shuttle to get to a thousand meters? The mission timer crawled past ten seconds. Then fifteen.

Then the shuttle gave Kris a good kick in the rear and took off like God intended.

“You know, Kris,” Penny called on net, “I understand the first liquid-chemical rockets took forever to clear the launch tower, just like this.”

“They didn’t pay those guys enough,” Jack said through gritted teeth. The gees were climbing quickly as the shuttle eagerly made up for lost time.

Ten minutes later, they’d achieved low orbit.

“Now what?” Jack asked.

“My question entirely,” Nelly added.

“I have no idea,” Kris said.

“Should we make for High Wardhaven?” Penny asked. “Maybe we can dock with a ship. We’ve hijacked a shuttle. Why not hijack a starship? Unless, of course, you’ve discovered moral scruples, Your Highness.”

“I can’t think of anyplace else to go,” Kris said. “Nelly, set us up to match with the station.”

The words were hardly out of Kris’s mouth before the radio came alive. “Hijacked shuttle, you will make for High Wardhaven where you will surrender. Be advised that we have lasers on you and will use deadly force if you appear to set a course back to Wardhaven. If you follow any course except one to match with the station and go dead in space fifty klicks trailing the station, we will fire on you.”

Kris tapped her comm. “This is Lieutenant Commander, Her Royal Highness Kris Longknife. We have already set our course for High Wardhaven station. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Worry about your own panties,” snapped right back at her.

“You know, love, I think some people are really pissed with us,” Jack said.

“You could be right,” Kris agreed.

The shuttle flipped, slowed itself down and dropped into an orbit that would send it higher and match with the station in two more orbits.

“Okay, crew. We’ve got three hours before we get there,” Kris said. “I’m open to any suggestions from the floor.”

“We should have stood in bed,” Penny offered.

“Too late to do that,” Kris said, then added, “and you know I love you, Jack. That changes a lot for me, but surrender just isn’t my style.”

“I know, honey. But getting us all killed is, huh . . .” Jack seem to run out of words, then began anew. “I got a bad feeling about this trip. Getting us truly, sincerely, and rather completely dead looks like the highest option on the table.”

“Yeah,” Kris said, rubbing her chin. “I think you’re right, Jack. Somehow we’ll have to avoid that happening.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that,” Jack answered dryly.

“Nelly, what ships are at the station?” Kris asked.

“Small and hijackable?”

“Yes, make that list. We may need it if worse comes to worst. But not yet. Nelly, are there any visiting Navy ships? Ships where we might claim asylum.”

“An asylum. Great idea,” Jack said.

“Not an asylum, Jack. A ship where we could get political asylum.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” Jack answered. “I just thought the other idea deserved some consideration.”

“I’d slug you if I didn’t need both hands to fly this brick,” Kris muttered.

“I figured now was a good time to speak truth to power,” Jack said.

“You are so going to pay for all this at a later time and place.”

“Hopefully very private.”

“Folks, I hate to interrupt this foreplay, but could we figure out where we’re going?” Penny said.

“Kris,” Nelly said, “there are several warships in port. A Greenfeld cruiser.”

“Not a good idea,” Penny said. No one disagreed.

“A couple of corvettes, including one from New Eden.”

“Let’s skip any U.S. ships. Too likely we’d be turned over to Grampa Ray’s not-so-tender mercies. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt,” Kris said.

“There’s a battleship from Musashi, the IMS Mutsu,” Nelly went on. “She came to retrieve small packages that crew members of the Imperial ships left behind before they departed on the voyage of discovery.”

“Huh,” Penny said.

“Many of the crew left packages containing a lock of hair or fingernail clippings,” Nelly said. “It’s an old tradition.”

“I see,” said Kris. “Nelly, are we wanted on Musashi?”

“I’m sorry, but yes, Kris. The last government lost a recent election. It is suspected the loss of the Fleet of Discovery contributed to that. The new government immediately began proceedings against you. As of last week, Musashi was added to the list of planets wanting you for war crimes and crimes against humanity.”

“So if we go there, I get my day in court,” Kris said.

“A Musashi court,” Penny pointed out.

Kris considered that. Then she began to think out loud to the two people she most trusted. “Since we got back, I’ve been doing what I was told. Go to Chance. Go to Wardhaven. Go talk to your great-grandfather. Go to Madigan’s Rainbow, in chains if you won’t go any other way. I’ve been a very good girl.”

“And see what it’s gotten you,” Penny said.

“Right,” Kris said.

Kris took a deep breath. “I’ve had enough of being good. I’ve commanded battles. For Christ’s sake, I’ve defended not one world but two from annihilation. And now I can’t even take up a mike in a karaoke bar and tell my story to a couple of drunks. I’ve had it, crew. I want my day in court.”

“Ah, Kris, maybe you aren’t aware, but Musashi is one of the few planets that never approved the full Charter on Human Rights,” Nelly said carefully. “They rejected the article on capital punishment. They haven’t executed anyone in thirty years, but it’s still on the books.”

That did give Kris pause. She glanced at Jack. “As my security chief, are you going to object to my risking an unfortunate encounter with the headsman?”

Jack shrugged. “As the man who lost his heart to you, I’ll admit that my gut is in an uproar at the thought. As your security chief, I’m conflicted. As you so often point out, it’s a risk, but it’s a calculated risk. Me, I think all this talk of crimes against humanity is just that, cheap political talk. I have a hard time believing anyone who hears your side of the story is going to give that cheap talk any value.”

Jack paused, then went on, “I’m also sick and tired of being shut up in a corner, or run around on a short leash. Maybe I’ve caught part of this Longknife thing you have, but I say damn the torpedoes; full speed ahead.”

“That’s talking like the man I could love,” Kris said through a grin.

“I thought I was the man you loved.”

“You’ll pardon me. We’re coming up on a burn, so I can’t give you the kiss you deserve, man that I love,” Kris said with a smile.

“The story of my life, past and future,” Jack said.

Kris did the required burn, then did manage to plant a kiss on Jack’s cheek. Essentials done, she turned back to the problem chewing on her backside.

“Nelly, can you get me a channel being monitored by the Mutsu?”

“I have it dialed in. I had nothing else to do while you two were smooching.”

“I’m planning on you having a lot of time on your hands, Nelly. Get used to it. Put me live on the Mutsu’s guard channel.”

“You’re live.”

“Imperial Musashi Battleship Mutsu, this is Lieutenant Commander Kris Longknife. Do you read me?”

“This is Mutsu’s communication center, we read you Lieutenant Commander Kris Longknife on our emergency guard channel.”

“Longknife, here, please patch me through to the officer of the deck.”

“Wait one,” the comm tech replied crisply and professionally.

“This is Commander Morishita, OOD of the Mutsu. Who am I addressing?”

“Commander Morishita, this is Lieutenant Commander Kris Longknife, Royal U.S. Navy. I request permission to dock a shuttle in the Mutsu and come aboard.”

“Oh,” only held a hint of startlement. “Wait one.”

“Do you think, Kris,” Jack said, “that poor fellow knows the full extent of the ‘Oh my God’ that you just dropped in his lap?”

“You know, Jack, I don’t think he does.”

Kris watched the timer as it counted out a minute. Then another. Then a third.

The timer was coming up on four when the comm line came awake.

“This is Captain Miyoshi of the Imperial Musashi Battleship Mutsu. Who am I addressing?”

“This is Lieutenant Commander Kris Longknife, sometimes styled as Princess. I request permission to dock a shuttle on your command and come aboard.”

“You do, do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I have a JAG officer at my elbow shouting no in about forty-seven different ways. Can you give me one reason to overrule him?”

Kris paused for a moment. No doubt he saw her as nothing but trouble, and rightly so. Just what call did she have on him?

“I request permission to come aboard in the memory of all the courageous men and women of the Musashi Navy who died following my orders.”

That brought a long pause. Kris was now coming up on High Wardhaven station. Soon, she’d have to brake into the parking orbit trailing the station by fifty klicks. Once she did, every laser on the station would fix her in its sights.

“Come on, Captain,” Jack muttered.

“Mutsu to Longknife,” the captain said, breaking the silence. “Let’s make sure that we understand ourselves. You are wanted for high crimes on my planet. If you board my ship, you will be surrendering yourself for judgment by my people.”

“I understand that, Captain Miyoshi.”

An exasperated “Damn” slipped onto the net. No doubt it was not intended for general consumption.

“Then we will do it your way. Landing officer, set an approach beacon. Marines, to the landing bay. I will meet you there, Commander Longknife.”

“Thank you, sir. Would you please advise High Wardhaven station that I am on approach to you.”

“Huh?” was followed by a click and a long moment of silence that was finally broken by a “You bastard, Longknife! You didn’t tell me that you’d been forbidden permission to approach the station.”

“It may have slipped my mind, sir.”

“I just bet it did. Well, we’ve advised the station that we have set a landing beacon for your use. It’s up to you to persuade them not to shoot you out of space when you cross the fifty-klick line. Good luck to you. Mutsu out.”

“You know, Kris,” Penny said, “I really don’t think he likes you.”

“I might have allowed another important relationship to get off on the wrong foot,” Kris admitted.

“Just like every other one of them,” Jack muttered.

“Hijacked shuttle, this is High Wardhaven approach control. You are approaching your parking orbit. Begin braking.”

Kris clicked her comm. “High Wardhaven, this is Lieutenant Commander Kris Longknife in the Longknife family shuttle. There has been a slight change of plan. I am authorized to approach and dock with the Imperial Musashi Battleship Mutsu.”

“Approach to hijacked shuttle, I have been informed of no such change. Be advised, every laser on the station is tracking you. Enter the controlled space around the station, and we are authorized to use deadly force.”

“Longknife to approach, I hear you, but I have the Mutsu’s beacon showing on my board and am on approach to it.”

“Don’t do it, Longknife.”

“I am doing it. Longknife out.”

“Don’t you just love it when Longknifes play chicken?” Penny said.

“Yeah,” Jack said, “but this time it’s Longknifes playing chicken with a Longknife. This may be a first.”

“Fifty-click boundary coming up,” Nelly said, “in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one.”

Kris noticed that everyone on board was holding their breath, herself included.

“We just passed the forty-nine-klick mark,” Nelly said.

Everyone started breathing again.

“Approach to Longknife, you are authorized to dock with the Mutsu. Deviate from that flight path one inch, and we will fry you.”

“Last message received and understood. We will comply. Longknife out.”

Kris was a good pilot; today she was meticulous. Nelly plotted a glide path that would intersect the Mutsu as it rotated around High Wardhaven station. Kris hooked the wire on the first pass, and the battleship reeled them in like a caught fish.

Locked down in the Mutsu’s hangar bay, Kris and Jack went through their postflight check carefully. It wouldn’t do to break anything on Grampa Al’s shuttle. Kris certainly didn’t want anyone who checked after her to question that the shuttle’s antimatter was not fully safetied. It was a good five minutes before she pushed her seat back from the controls and unstrapped herself.

“I don’t think we should keep the captain waiting any longer than we have to,” Penny said.

“I just hate perp walks,” Kris muttered. “I hope they skip the cuffs this time. I don’t like bracelets on the best of days.”

“Quit delaying, Kris,” Jack said. “Look on the bright side. At least this time, you’ve got friends with you.”

Kris chuckled. She stood, adjusted the fall of her poorly tailored and smelly brown uniform, and headed for the hatch. Jack and Penny followed.

Kris ducked her head as she exited the shuttle, then stood tall.

Across from her stood two Navy officers, sporting four and three stripes respectively on the shoulder boards of their whites. Behind them was a squad of Marines in full battle rattle.

Kris saluted. “Permission to come aboard,” she said formally.

“Permission granted,” the captain growled through a scowl of biblical proportions as he returned her salute. “My Marines will escort you to your holding cell. Commander Morishita will see to your needs. Maybe even arrange for proper uniforms for you,” he said with a disapproving sniff in Kris’s direction.

“I myself am needed on the pier. It seems there is a Navy captain from your Royal U.S. Navy with his own Marines and his own claim on your hide. My JAG tells me that I must disappoint him. If your captains are anything like our captains, we do not take disappointment easily.”

“I think our captains are pretty much the same,” Kris said in her most helpful voice. The scowl she received in reply would have burned any proper subordinate where she stood.

Fortunately, Kris had never been a very proper subordinate.

The captain turned and marched quickly off. Commander Morishita offered a directing hand, and Kris marched off beside him, followed by Jack and Penny and a whole squad of very armed and alert Marines of a most Imperial persuasion.

“Unfortunately, our brig is full at the moment,” the commander informed Kris. “It seems the yen is strong this week, making beer ashore rather cheap. Many of our younger crew members are away from home for the first time and did not discipline themselves as well as they should have.”

“Sailors are people, too,” Kris said. “I believe chiefs were invented to look after them.”

“Chiefs were not invented, Commander, they are hatched,” Commander Morishita said with more than the hint of a smile.

Kris thanked whatever god was looking after her this morning. Apparently, she had fallen into the clutches of a Navy officer with a sense of humor. Kris didn’t risk a smile, though. There was still the matter of where they intended to put her. Battleships had a lot worse places than the brig. Or so she’d heard.

They clambered up several decks, took passageways halfway around the ship, and came to a halt before a door announcing ADMIRAL’S IN PORT CABIN.

“You will be staying here,” Commander Morishita said. “We have no flag aboard, and this seemed like the best place for you,” he said, opening the door.

Four Marines quickly took guard station on either side of the door, with a staff sergeant looking very senior.

Kris followed the commander in. The quarters were quite spacious, with the walls painted to look like wood paneling. There was a work area with a desk and commlink as well as a large table for meetings and, for less formal discussions, a corner with two comfortable sofas with several stuffed chairs.

The commander pointed out a door that led to a bedroom and facilities. There were two other doors. “One leads to the Admiral’s wardroom. The other door is to the chief of staff’s quarters. The previous admiral had it put in. Our last admiral had a lock put on it for his side, and I understand it was never unlocked. We will billet one of your people there, the other one in the next stateroom down the hall.”

Kris walked over to that door, and opened it. When she glanced inside, it showed a room not much larger than her own quarters on the old Wasp. “Jack, would you mind being in here?”

“I don’t see any problem,” Jack said, without even looking.

“I see that you came aboard with nothing but that unregulation dress. I will notify the quartermaster to have a chief check in with you. I assume you’ll need everything.”

“Pretty much,” Kris agreed. With that he left.

“Nelly, are we under surveillance?” Kris asked.

“None that I can identify,” the computer answered.

Kris developed the shakes, something she never did in public. Quickly, she found Jack’s arms around her.

“I’ll go check out my quarters,” Penny said, and left them alone.