Intrepid

46

Back at the Wasp, there was no rest for the wicked. Late as it was, Kris roused her staff and went immediately to work.

Abby showed up in a wrap and fuzzy slippers. ''Cara likes them,'' was all she said. Colonel Cortez was halfway through a yawn when he caught sight of Kris's outfit. It is possible for a grown man's eyes to bug out.

''We've got problems, ladies and gentlemen,'' Kris said by way of preamble, ''and several of them need action now.'' She filled them in on the legal mess revolving around their prize money.

Captain Drago muttered a curse when Kris finished.

''Can't sell the Feathered Serpent here,'' Penny said.

''My opinion exactly,'' Kris said. ''We have to refuel her here, but we need to get her to United space ASAP.''

''I'll start forging her new papers,'' Abby said. ''If they only have to stand up to a couple of port calls, that shouldn't be too big a problem. Once they drop the reps off at Pitts Hope, the crew can take the Serpent to Chance, get her declared forfeit, and we'll have an ironbound set of papers for her.''

''Now there's the problem of Birridas,'' Kris said.

''Birridas?'' Professor mFumbo echoed. He'd just come in. Dressed in a red smoker's jacket, complete with a never-lit pipe, he looked quite debonair. And suddenly very worried. ''Your Highness, Birridas is the shortest way to the Ferret's Head nebula. I do remind you that you promised that research would be the next priority. And would be for at least two full months.''

''Yes, Professor, and I will not renege,'' Kris said. ''But there's a problem on Birridas.'' Kris quickly filled them in.

''I see,'' Professor mFumbo said. ''I agree on the detour. It may add a few days to our run, but what must be must be.'' Around the table, that seemed to represent a universal consensus.

''Excuse me,'' Kris said, ''but you misunderstand me. We are going to Birridas.''

The room exploded into dead silence.

''Kris, are you crazy?'' Jack asked.

''No more than usual,'' Kris said.

''Yes, this is more than usual,'' Jack snapped. ''Kris, this man has been trying to kill you since, well, forever. He probably paid the kidnappers of your brother Eddy.''

''I know,'' Kris said, with a shiver.

''Kris, those were his battleships at Wardhaven,'' Penny whispered softly.

''I know,'' Kris repeated.

''And besides, Kris,'' Jack continued, talking slowly as to a stubborn child, ''if Henry Smythe-Peterwald XII does finally get himself killed, we don't want a Longknife within fifty light-years. You do not want to go to Birridas.''

''I don't,'' Kris said, ''but answer me this. Where do you think Prometheus's kid and the Xanadu nuts are headed?''

''Most likely Birridas,'' Jack agreed. ''I know you'd love to pull out a miracle for that poor man, but Kris, you got to make tracks away from this one.''

''I can't, Jack, because my fingerprints are already all over the future death of Henry Peterwald, twelfth of that name.''

That brought blank stares from the table. All but one. Penny's eyes lit up. ''Oh … I see.''

''You tell them, Penny.''

All eyes were on her. She spoke slowly. ''Whether one of the kids actually kills Mr. Peterwald, or not, doesn't matter. They're bound to be swept up in the dragnet before his body is cold. That creates a line back to Xanadu, and Kris has been on Xanadu twice in the last month.''

There was a long pause when Penny finished. As the mess they were in dawned around the table, heads began to shake slowly. ''We are so screwed,'' Captain Drago muttered for all.

''Couldn't you just send a warning?'' Professor mFumbo asked.

Kris shook her head. ''Even if we did, it could be taken as us just trying to cover our tracks. At best, they might credit us with having gotten cold feet on an op after we turned it loose, and we're trying to help them close it down. Either way, it's us killing Peterwald in the end. I have to go.''

Jack was still shaking his head. ''Oh Lord, Kris. You expect to come racing in, shouting that there's a plot to kill Henry Peterwald, and be believed?''

''I have to try.

''I can have the ship under way in thirty minutes, Your Highness,'' Drago said, rising from his chair.

''Make it so, Captain.'' He left to do just that.

''Let's see what other loose ends I have,'' Kris said, and turned to Colonel Cortez. ''Prisoner, I had planned to turn you over to Cuzco justice.'' He stuck his hands out for the cuffs.

''You're going to be staying aboard for a while,'' got a frown from the colonel. ''It seems my shyster is confident he can get you off with a wrist slap. He's already gleefully planning your career as a consultant to future filibustering expeditions. With a fifteen percent take for him.''

''I was expecting as much,'' Cortez said.

''So I'm not letting you off my ship. Not here, at least.''

''Thank you, ma'am.''

''Thank me?'' Kris said, surprised by the man.

''Yes. I made a mistake, getting involved with that mess. I'd hate to be trapped in it for the rest of my life.''

Kris didn't know whether to believe him or not. Still, she had a prisoner on her hands, one with skills she was using.

''Penny, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't POWs who work supposed to be paid for that work?''

''I believe that is required,'' the kid of a cop answered.

''Abby, after you repaper the Serpent, work up a contract hiring the colonel as a consultant in military affairs.''

''What kind of pay scale?'' the maid/intel weenie asked.

''Something appropriate for a colonel.''

Cortez chuckled. ''Make it a short-term temporary appointment,'' he said. ''I'm sure the princess will find some judge to take my case. Maybe at this Chance place, where you're sending my troop transport.''

''We'd never send you to Chance,'' Penny said.

The colonel's smile was replaced by puzzlement.

''You see, Colonel,'' Jack said, ''the last time Kris was there, the Peterwalds tried to take over Chance. The folks there really objected to that.''

''I see,'' the colonel said.

''Not really, you don't,'' Penny added. ''It came to a fight, and in that fight, Mr. Peterwald's son was killed.''

''Oh my,'' Cortez said, then a light seemed to dawn. ''The son of the man your princess is hell-bent on saving?''

''The very same,'' Abby said. ''Now you see how big a bucket of horse pucky we are in.''

''Holy Mother of God,'' the old soldier said.

''All hands, set getting-under-way details,'' said the MC1.