Mutineer

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

''So. Kris, who climbs the cliff and who stays down here?'' Tom asked in a tight whisper out of earshot of any rancher. The whisper didn't hide the tremble in his voice.

''You don't have to go if you don't want to,'' Kris said, ready to admit she'd volunteered Tom enough for one day.

''Cut the crap, Longknife,'' he snapped, anger hardening his whisper. ''One of us has to stay here. Somebody's got to give them a kick in the butt if bright boy over there starts something again. You're probably the best for that. A Longknife staying here shows they haven't been abandoned.'' Tom gave a resigned shrug at his own logic. ''I'm going to climb that cliff. If they can't make it, someone's got to let you folks at the bottom know. And if I get to the top, I can probably raise the net and get us some help,'' he finished.

''Sounds logical.'' Kris nodded, keeping her voice even.

''Yeah, so why don't I like it?''

Kris could think of a dozen reasons. ''Beats me,'' was what she said.

''I should have run the first time I saw you. I keep hanging around Longknifes, and I'm gonna end up with a medal. Last words me ma told we was, ‘Don't you go getting any medals. We have all the metal we need hereabouts.' ''

''Why don't you go see if there's any little people under that hill that will help you up it?''

''That's not a hill, that's a cliff. Only thing around them is ogres. Don't you know your fey?''

''Father read me to sleep with cabinet minutes and political analyses. Never read any fairy tales.''

''What do you mean, fairy tales? Woman, they're as real as any political analysis.'' Tommy had his lopsided grin back.

''Can't argue that with you. So, you'll go up the hill, and I'll keep the home fires burning.'' Until the river floods the fireplace, Kris left unsaid. They shared a laugh at nothing in particular. The people around them seemed to take heart at that. Together, Kris and Tom stepped out into the pouring rain.

Sam, Jose, and the two climbers had collected a dozen men and women. A woman brought a thermos of hot tea. As the climbers hefted rope, hammers, and other climbing gear, Sam explained the general plan. ''We've got tackle for two hoists. I brought it up from the main barn. Should have used it days ago, folks, but I just couldn't believe it would get this bad. Sorry,'' he said.

''None of us saw it coming,'' a ranch hand said.

''Anyway, we'll snub down a couple of ropes here; you let out your rope as you climb. Once you're at the top, you can haul up the tackle and get the hoists going. Then we'll send folks up. Worst cases you'll have to haul. Folks that can do something will climb best they can with you hauling some. That ought to do it,'' Sam finished lamely.

''How you know when we're up there?'' a rancher asked.

Kris tapped her wrist. ''Ensign Lien will climb with you. He'll call me when you're ready, as well as put in a call to Port Athens for help.''

''They can't help us,'' Jose pointed out. ''There's three or four deep ravines between here and there. It's a long drive around. That's why we used the river.''

''Tell the Colonel to use the boats as bridges,'' Kris said.

''The boats?'' Tom echoed in disbelief.

''Yes. Ours worked fine the first time, even when I repaired it. Tell Hancock just not to use it a third time.''

''If you say so.'' Tom looked none too sure. Kris was pretty sure Hancock would do just about anything to give them a hand. Well, maybe her. She was one of those Longknifes.

''It's either that or the damn boats don't like Longknifes,'' Kris said, ignoring the question of whether its philanthropic provider wanted a certain Longknife dead. That thought would save for later.

The climbers trudged for Lover's Leap. Kris followed, trying to spot in the rainy dark where the highest ground lay for her last stand. OCS had included an hour of treading water or a mile swim. She'd managed that fine, but she hadn't had a hundred sick and half-starved civilians to keep afloat as well. The ground rose slowly. There were stunted evergreen trees on the rocky ground. The closer she got to the cliff, the more there were of jagged boulders, ragged proof that the rocky face before her was prone to landslides. After all Kris had been through that day, a falling rock looked like just another way to die.

The climbers shared out the rope they were lifting, Nabil and Akuba first, Jose next, the ranchers following. Tommy was last; Kris surprised him with a hug. ''Stay safe, Tom, your ma doesn't want a medal, remember.''

''A little late for you to start thinking about that,'' he grumbled but softened it with a tight smile. Kris had dragged a boy up the river. It looked like she was sending a man up the cliff. ''See you in the morning,'' he said and turned to follow the others. The ends of two thin lines were tied to the biggest stunted trees available. The climbers carried coils of the rope to let out as they went. It should last them to the top.

Kris didn't wait for them to disappear into the mist overhead but turned back to her own work. ''There any bales of hay left?'' she asked Sam.

''Not many. We were only a few weeks away from giving up on the last of the herd and eating them. Then the water rose.''

''Think we could use it to build a dike around here?'' They turned back to the cliff, watched as the leader and his light disappeared into the gloom above their heads. ''I just don't know where they'll set up the hoists,'' Kris concluded. That was their problem; much to do and too many unknowns. The two plodded back down the trail for what Kris would quickly learn was a whole new vestibule of hell. At least that was what Tommy would call it.

Kris had spent four days preparing for the drop mission on Sequim. For that, she'd had data, plenty of data, data overload, except, as it turned out, not the right data. Here she had nothing. There, she'd had gong ho marines. Now her command consisted of everything, from a three-month-old to a ninety-seven-year-old. She had the sick, the depressed, and most of all, the tired and hungry. The tired she let sleep.

At least with the supplies they'd boated in, the hungry got their first decent meal in a year. Enough to give strength for the climb without overfilling half-starved stomachs. As the sleepers awoke, they were fed. Some, the very young or elderly, managed to go back to sleep. Others, feeling almost good for the first time in months, hung around, ready to do something but unsure what. Kris started a list of folks she was about ready to send up the hill on their own. Brandon, who'd somehow missed joining the first string, was at the top of her short list.

''Aren't you going to do something?'' he insisted for about the forty-eleventh time.

''Nope.'' Kris answered while helping feed a three-year-old. ''We've moved the rope and the hoists to the trailhead. Some guys are moving what hay bales we have up there. You want to help them?'' She'd offered that job before, but it didn't suit Brandon's fancy then. It didn't now. The picks and shovels were already there. What Kris wanted was to know how high the water was, but that was one job she'd never give Brandon. The child fed, her mom took her and began singing a lullaby. Kris glanced at her wrist; three hours until sunrise. Probably three and a half before they got any light down here. Waiting.

Waiting was supposed to be what ancient women did while the men were away at the war or earning a living. Kris concluded that men were wimps. Turning her back on Brandon, she headed for the door. Outside, she ran into Sam headed in.

''What's the river like?'' she asked as he backed up.

''Rising. There's almost a foot of water at that dip in the ground between here and the trail head. We're pulling a barbed wire fence down, gonna use it to mark the trail.''

''Sounds good.''

''Could you call that other navy fellow, ask him how things are going?''

''I could, but would you want to answer a phone when you were halfway up that cliff?''

''No, but it's just not knowing that's making everyone edgy.''

''Sam, they could get two hundred and fifty meters up that hill and be stuck at the last fifty.'' Kris didn't like to think about that, but it was the truth. The sun could well be up, and they still might not know for sure.

''Sam, Sam, you better come quick,'' a runner shouted as he slid up to them.

''What's wrong?''

''Benny just fell off Lover's Leap.''

Kris didn't ask for more explanation; she started running. The runner did a quick reverse and led the way; Sam stayed on her heels. As reported, the water was up to mid-calf for a stretch, but a line of fence posts was being hammered in place. The barbs on the wire between posts didn't look too nasty. Close to the cliff, Kris spotted a light and cut toward it.

A half dozen men stood around one. A glance at the body showed Kris all she needed to know. The arms, back, and legs went in far too many directions. Gashes on the man's face showed where he'd bounced off rocks on the way down. A gnarled pine lay across him. But that wasn't what held Kris's attention. The team was alternating lead climber. That climber would cover the next stretch, then pull the rest up by a rope secured to the rock face, trees, whatever was locally handy. What had gone wrong here?' Had the rope broken? Were there more fallen climbers out in the dark? Kris ground her teeth as she eyed her commlink. But before she'd bother Tom, she'd make this dead man tell her everything he could. She stooped by the body, found a loop of rope and followed it. That required moving the body. She rolled it over with a firm shove.

''God, lady, that's Benny.''

''She knows what she's doing,'' Sam cut in as Kris followed more rope. There was blood on it, and blood on her hands, but she followed the rope until she found the end under Benny's lopsided skull.

''The rope's been cut,'' she said. ''Did Benny have a knife?''

''Of course he does.''

''You see it?'' The body was again moved, this time gingerly by men who knew and loved the man. Benny's knife was missing.

Kris stood, holding the end of the rope, and swallowed hard at the message she read in it. ''He cut himself loose when the pine came out.'' Kris had tasted the courage it took to lead a drop mission, and she'd drunk deep of the courage that let you charge into battle, gun blazing, but she had to wonder if she could have eaten the plate that fate set before Benny. Could she cut herself loose, give herself the long fall, to make sure her fall didn't take her buddies down?

''Kris, you there?'' Tom spoke from the commlink.

''Yes, Tom. How is it?''

''Pretty bad there for a while.''

''I'm here with Benny.''

''Was that his name? God…'' The link choked to silence.

''Have mercy on him,'' someone finished beside Kris and knelt to close the dead man's eyes.

''Anyway, we were in a bad place, but we're all through it now. The next hundred meters looks pretty doable, but I still can't see the top. We're all tied back together. I'll call you later. Out.''

''Kris, out.''

They left Benny where he fell; the body should go up the hill if they had time. Like all the climbers, Benny had been vaccinated, but Kris had no way of knowing if he was coming down with Grearson. If he was, Kris doubted the vaccine could have done much good in the few hours since he got the shot.

The water was already up to Kris's knees as she waded across the low spot back to the cabin. That settled it for her; with two hours until dawn, she'd get everyone bundled up in whatever might keep them warm and start them for the trail head. ''How are the sick doing?'' Kris asked the medic as she came in the cottage.

He shook his head. ''Give me one medevac flight, and I'd bet my last dollar they'd all live. But taking them out into that rain … I just don't know.''

''I need to move them out there now. If we stay here much longer, I can't be sure they'll get to the trailhead at all.''

The medic closed his eyes and breathed out a long, hurting sigh. ''And we've got to get them or their bodies up that damn cliff. Yes, Ensign, I know my duty to public health outweighs my obligation to my patients. Damn. I know it. That doesn't mean I like it much.''

''Not much to like today, is there?'' she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ''I'll get tarps to the trailhead. The wind's kicking up, but we'll do what we can.''

Kris sent them out into the rain in groups of five or so. She wasn't surprised an hour later to discover that she and Karen were nearly alone. An elderly woman remained; she'd been fussing about with children and somehow missed each group going out. The woman with the baby had also held back. ''She's got a bad cough,'' she offered by way of explanation.

Kris took a last glance around the one-room house. It was strewn with empty food cartons, vaccine bottles, the general refuse of a hasty exit. The bed was stripped of blankets and sheets, used when the sick were carried out. If it stank, Kris's nose was long past noticing. Collecting the lantern from its place on the dining table, Kris turned to follow the mother and child. The water was ankle deep as they stepped off the porch. Kris followed Karen and the old woman; they seemed to know the way. By the time they got to the start of the barbed wire fence, the water was up to Kris's knees and had a current to it. Kris put one arm around the mother's shoulders, the other to the wire. The mom hugged her baby close with both arms.

When they reached the low spot, it was clear the older woman had a problem. Short to start with, the water was well up to her shoulders. ''You stay here,'' Kris told her charge, then moved up to help Karen. Holding the elderly woman between them, they got her across the hundred meters of what could only be called a running river now. As a gawky teenager, Kris doubted there was any reason for a girl being six feet tall. Tonight, Kris would have gladly added another four inches to her stature.

Once across, Kris handed the lantern to Karen and immediately turned back. ''I'll go with you,'' Karen offered.

''No, you two get to the trailhead. There's still a patch of dry land there. Dry yourselves off.''

''In this rain?'' the old woman cackled. ''You're dreaming.'' But Karen got her charge moving. Kris took it slow going back, refusing to believe that the current had gotten faster, the water deeper, in just the time since she'd made the last trip.

Again, Kris put one arm around the mother's shoulders, the other on the top wire of the fence. ''Watch your step,'' she told the mother and child. They went slow, planting each forward step firmly before removing weight from the back leg. Kris was lifting her trailing foot when the woman beside her went down.

In a second, Kris knew she was losing her. She grabbed for whatever she could and got a fistful of coat collar. Kris locked her hand down on the wire, grabbing a barb. Metal cut deep into her palm, but Kris squelched a scream that would have robbed her of air as she was dragged under by the burdened mother.

The fence had been meant as a guide, not a support. As Kris and her charge hit it, the poles nearest to them gave up their hold on the muddy ground. Kris fought to get a foothold, to get her head above water, to get a breath, to hold on to the wire, to hold on to the woman. Somehow she managed them all.

By the time Kris got one foot to hold, she was a good twenty meters downstream. Holding on to the wire and the mother, Kris knew a single foot could not hold, but the several one-legged hops she did manage let her get her head above water for a moment and breath into her lungs.

Now Kris concentrated on getting her second leg down. She did a double hop and sank both feet into the mud. Still, the pull of the current on her and the mother was too much. Kris was dragged downstream for another three hops before she got her stance just right to fight the power of the river. In place, Kris got her own head above water, then pulled the mother toward her, raising her head into the night air.

''Can you breathe?'' Kris yelled into the woman's ear.

''Yes.''

Despite the wild ride, the woman was still holding her child above the water. ''The baby?''

''She's coughing.''

''Good.'' Kris turned to face the raging water. Feet firmly planted, leaning into the current at nearly forty-five degrees, Kris worked the barb out of her palm with the fingers of her bleeding hand, then moved her grip on the wire over a hand's width to the left. She risked a side step of a few centimeters. Then another. Moved the hand past the next barb, got a good grip, then moved a few centimeters over. Checked her grip on the woman. Then repeated.

The water was cold. Kris's bleeding hand quit screaming at her. Now her problem was making sure the cold flesh was holding fast to wire and collar. Feet leaden, Kris pulled them from the mud and moved them over. Careful. Careful. Ignore the knotting in your calves, the ache in your thighs, the numbness spreading throughout your body.

A month passed, maybe a year, as Kris made her way, step by step, across the raging current. Despite the passing of eons, the sun did not rise to throw even gray light on Kris's struggle.

Only when the water was down to Kris's waist did she risk settling the woman in place behind her. ''Thank you,'' the mother said breathlessly. The baby sneezed. That was thanks enough for this whole damn project.

It took less than a week to get to ankle-deep water. Karen and Sam were waiting for them. ''I was worried when you didn't show,'' Karen shouted in Kris's ear. ''Are you all right?''

''Now. I think,'' Kris answered, and was grateful for an arm from Sam. The rancher took a look at Kris's bleeding hand. ''We'll see if we can't use some of those medical supplies you brought.''

The medic examined Kris's palm, like a bleary-eyed gypsy fortune-teller. Then he gave her a shot, cleaned it out, and bandaged it. ''That's going to give you a problem going hand over hand up a rope,'' he told her. ''I'll see that you get a lift up.''

''This little thing?'' Kris said, making a fist. ''Ouch.'' It hurt like hell and didn't get very tight.

''You get a lift,'' the medic said and turned back to his fever patients. They'd rigged a lean-to using the tarps and some wood that had been part of the barn until recently.

Eighty people milled around in the space between the cliff and the rising water. Five small kids, now fed, had a game of tag going, chasing each other through the water and around the adults. That brought smiles from even the sick ones.

Kris looked around for what to do next.

Off to her left there was a rattle as rocks came off the cliff. A second later, a dark-clad body followed, hitting the cliff and bouncing into a stunted pine. Kris and Sam headed for it as Kris's commlink came to life. ''Kris.''

''I know, Tom. You lost another.'' It was Akuba, the dark-skinned man that Kris had dragged upriver. The fall had crushed the life from his body. Behind Kris, mothers corralled kids and pulled them away from this sign of their mortality, possibly all their mortalities.

''We're about twenty meters from the top,'' Tom shouted from the commlink. ''There's no good way up. Akuba, Jose, and Nabil were trying three possible routes.''

''Akuba's didn't work,'' Kris finished for him as she turned to face the ranchers. Several men and women knelt in the mud, praying. Kris hoped their god was listening. Sunday around the prime minister's residence was a day for providing a church-based photo op to the media. That was all Father expected and all Kris understood of church. Tommy was probably up there, hanging on to a rock, and praying. Kris hoped Someone was paying attention to all the words.

''I know,'' Tom went on. ''Jose and Nabil are still climbing. They didn't even look back when Akuba slipped. God, and I thought marines were tough.''

''Keep in touch,'' Kris told Tom and cut the link.

''We'll know in a few minutes,'' she shouted to all the interested parties and turned back to Akuba's body. From his jacket, a small chain had slipped out, the medallion on it covered with flowing arabic letters. Kris knew that Islam forbade images. ''Allah is great,'' she whispered gently as she closed the man's eyes. Kris wondered if there was some sort of prayer she should have said over Willie, her dead wanna-be hero. Another thing she'd better learn to do if she intended to stay in this line of work.

If she didn't drown today.

''Kris, Kris,'' came fast from the commlink. ''I think Nabil's in trouble. Stay there. Don't move,'' Tom shouted on-line. ''Let Jose get to the top, for God's sake, man, don't do it.''

Kris tried to picture the struggle taking place above her head. When you delegate a job, you've got to live with what happens, she reminded herself. She ordered herself to silence. The last thing Tom or any of them up the cliff, needed was someone yakking at them from the safety of the bottom.

Kris concentrated on what she could do. The water was starting to lap at the clearing around the trailhead. Akuba's fall seemed to show that the climbers had edged to the right of the trailhead, the upriver side. ''Those of you who want a job can start lugging the hay bales over here,'' she announced in a calm, carrying voice that cut through the low rumble of ongoing babble. Some hurried to obey; others stayed on their knees. At the moment, Kris wasn't willing to bet who was right.

''Damn you, Nabil,'' came from the commlink. Kris got ready to dodge more falling bodies. ''He made it,'' Tom continued, his voice half awe, half laughter. ''That son of a bitch made it!'' That coming from the usually soft-spoken Tommy got a raised eyebrow from Kris as she tapped her wrist unit.

''Made what?'' she asked softly.

''Not to the top,'' Tommy quickly corrected. ''But he was hanging on by a hand and a foot, and it didn't look like he was going anywhere. He's back to climbing, now.''

''The climber's safe,'' Kris shouted to the ranchers. Several crossed themselves. Others whispered, ''Praise the Lord.''

''Kris,'' came plaintive from Tommy.

''Yes, Tom.''

''Ensign Longknife, you down there,'' came in an all-too-familiar and none-too-happy voice.

''Thank God you're here, Colonel,'' Kris screamed. ''The Navy's here,'' she yelled, loud enough to be heard at the top of the cliff without benefit of net. ''They're here.''

''The marines have landed, Ensign, and the situation better not be out of hand. Drove all night like the devil to make it, but we're here and alive. Ropes are going over the side, so look out below. How many people you got down there?''

''Ropes coming down,'' Kris yelled; people backed off as six of her hired gunmen from Port Athens rode ropes down the hill. ''Eighty to ninety, sir. And sir,'' she said turning back to the commlink, ''we can't trust those boat bridges.''

''So I learned. One went poof on me as I was pulling it back to move on. The other left a convoy on the wrong side of a very deep ravine. Third time ain't no charm with these jokers. Left me with a half-loaded convoy, so I came back to base early to find one of my ensigns had gone off half cocked.''

''Yes, sir. Sorry about that, sir.''

''You almost sound like you are.''

''It's been a rough day, full of learning experiences.''

''Ensign, I want you on the first rope up.''

''Sir, we've got some pretty sick people,'' was Kris's answer.

Sam had come up beside her. ''She'll be on the first one,'' he shouted over Kris.

''At least somebody down there has sense. Who'm I talking to?''

''Sam Anderson. I own this ranch.''

''Colonel Hancock, here. I own that ensign's ass. Ship it back to me.'' So Kris found herself on the first rope lift up, half climbing, half being dragged. There was applause as Kris started up the cliff. She put it down to the joy of the rescue starting. It couldn't have been for the little she'd done. The cliff was not straight up. Some sections were rock, gravel, and mud at no more than a forty-five-degree angle. Kris climbed and slid her way up those, helping guide basket stretchers with three of the really sick civilians. Other parts were a rocky face, too damn close to straight up to make any difference. Kris let herself be pulled up those.

As expected, the Colonel was waiting for her at the top. Jeb was there, too, with a good chunk of her warehouse crew. Jeb had the winches well in hand; at least the Colonel didn't seem inclined to over-supervise him. ''My truck,'' was all he growled at Kris. But he handed her a blanket as he growled.

Kris found Tommy in the back of the truck the Colonel waved her to; huddled in a blanket, sipping on a hot cup of coffee with a big, satisfied grin on his face. He pointed at the thermos and Kris poured one for herself, took a sip, and almost choked. This was very Irish coffee. Someone had been quite liberal with the whiskey.

''No wonder you like it.'' She coughed.

''Good coffee, but not worth what I went through.'' He held out a hand, raw and bleeding. ''I'm never so much as climbing on a chair for the rest of my life.''

''The medic should be up next lift. He can look at your hand.'' Kris held up her bandaged one. ''Barbed wire makes a lousy lifeline.'' Tom sipped his whiskey-laced coffee in silence. Kris held the cup in her numb hands, letting its warmth seep into her. The whiskey she could do without.

A few minutes, or maybe a year later—time seemed quite flexible at the moment—the Colonel settled into the backseat. Kris and Tommy made room for him. Two civilians piled into the front seats. The driver goosed the engine to life, slipped the rig in gear, and headed them into the pouring rain. Wipers struggled against it. Maybe from the front seat they could see something; it wasn't visible to Kris in the back.

''Is that fear I see in your eyes, Ensign Longknife?'' the Colonel chided her. Kris leaned back in her seat, concentrated on her coffee. Wouldn't do to have the Colonel think that after all she'd been through she was afraid of a little drive in the country…even if the driver were charging blind into the dark. ''We've got the worst cases and the medic in the back, so don't get too unwound,'' the Colonel advised the team up front. They both leaned forward, faces almost in the front windshield.

''Right, boss. We get you there fast. Maybe even alive. No extra charge.''

''Civilians,'' the colonel growled. ''Almost as dumb as some ensigns I know. Just what did you think you were doing, Longknife?''

Kris had been expecting this. ''Sir, the Anderson ranch had a medical emergency that involved a threat to the public health of this planet. Exercising independent judgment and within calculated risks, sir, I led a boat expedition to their relief. Our efforts were hampered by what I can only assume at this time is a flaw in the design of the liquid metal boats. We were in the process of rescuing the ranch hands when you arrived, sir.'' There, she'd made her report, and every word of it was true … even if the color was off a bit.

Hancock just shook his head. ''So you didn't have time to call me, to run your approach through your commanding officer?''

''Sir, you were committed to a convoy mission. There were no roads to the Anderson ranch. A boat was the only way to reach it,'' Kris said, knowing full well the truck she was riding in raised certain questions about her estimate of the situation. ''Until the liquid metal boat just became liquid it wasn't going so bad, sir. The boat formed up like it should. I even repaired the prop when it got bent—on a log. Sir, we didn't have any other choice.''

Colonel Hancock's face remained a hard mask as Kris tried to explain why she'd done what she did. If anything, the tightness around the eyes got tighter. ''You'd activated the boat modification system twice already.''

''Yes, sir. But I didn't know it was a problem.''

''If you'd touched that keypad one more time on the way up, it would have dumped you and your entire party into the river.''

''Yes, sir,'' Kris agreed lamely.

''I found out the damn system was a piece of crap while using it for a bridge. It broke while no one was on it. In one day I already knew we had a problem, and no lives were put at risk. None but yours, because you didn't have any choice.'' Kris didn't have an answer for that.

''Ensign Lien, Tom isn't it.''

Kris was grateful to have the Colonel's full attention shift from her, then felt guilty all the same. Tom hadn't done anything she hadn't asked. No, this was the Navy. She'd ordered him to do what he did. She was the senior. She was responsible.

''Yes, sir,'' Tom answered.

''Did you have no other choice?''

''No, sir. I had choices.''

The Colonel already had his mouth open. He closed it and eyed Tom for a moment. ''What makes you say that?''

''We always have choices, sir. At least, that's what my grandma always says. No matter how bad it looks, there are always choices.''

''What choices did you have today that Ensign Longknife didn't seem to notice?'' God, the sarcasm was thick.

''We could have called you, sir. Asked for your advice. At least kept you informed of what we were doing. I didn't think about driving up here like you did, sir, but maybe if we'd kicked things around a while, we might have thought up that idea. But sir, we didn't have the lift crane for moving the bridges on and off the trucks. I'm not sure we could have done that, sir.''

''But you didn't think about it then, did you?''

''No, sir.''

''Why?''

''Kris said to take the boat, sir, and I followed her lead.''

''You followed her, without question.''

''Yes, sir,'' Tom said.

Kris knew that wasn't quite true. Tom had griped, questioned, complained, but she'd ignored him. Ignored him just like she always did.

''You'd follow her if she led you into hell.''

''Yes, sir.''

''Or off a cliff.''

''Or up one, sir.'' Tom actually managed a lopsided grin.

''You listening to this, Ensign?'' Kris had the Colonel's full attention again, but she was busy digesting what Tom said.

''Yes, sir.''

''You hearing it?''

Kris took a moment before she answered. ''I think so, sir.''

''You are a leader. Probably the best damn leader this lash-up has. You filled a vacuum I let happen. For that I bear a great degree of responsibility. However, young woman, you can never slough the responsibility for the leadership you provide. From the moment you set foot on this planet, you've been leading. People who were bitter or lost or struggling on their own found they could trust you to lead them. That's the way it's supposed to be. But damn it, woman, you're in over your head. You are an ensign in the Navy. That means a lot, but it doesn't mean anywhere near what you, Ensign Longknife are making it mean.''

Kris had done her best to follow the Colonel, but somewhere in there, he'd lost her. ''Sir, I don't understand.''

''You are a Longknife. You don't have a choice. That's what Ray Longknife said after he killed President Urm. ‘There was no alternative.' That's what your Great-grandpa Trouble said after he took a battalion up Black Mountain and kicked a division off it. Just like Tom here learned from his grandma that there were always choices, you learned at your great-grandfathers' knees that there are no other choices.''

''That's not true, sir. I can count on one hand the number of days I've seen Grampa Ray. And Grampa Trouble is my mother's least liked man in the universe. He hasn't been in our house since I was twelve.'' And he saved my life. ''The whole reason I'm in the Navy is to get away from being one of those Longknifes. Sir.'' He wasn't being fair to her.

He didn't know anything about her. And he probably didn't care, either. Kris put down her hardly touched mug of coffee, folded her hands, and prepared to ignore the rest of what Colonel Hancock of machine-gun-crowd-control fame had to say.

But the Colonel said nothing.

Instead, he leaned back into his seat and studied her for a long moment.

Outside, the rain was still coming down, making the truck's cab rattle like a drum. The driver and his mate carried on a conversation mainly of ''There's a big rock.'' ''Watch that hole!'' ''That mud looks too deep, go right.''

Kris was tired … exhausted by the day and drained by the Colonel's critique. She just wanted Hancock to finish his say and let her get some sleep.

Then the Colonel smiled.

''Family is a strange thing. I remember visiting my old man when my son was seven or eight. I can count on one hand the number of days my dad spent with my son. But I kept having to swallow a smile that weekend. You see, my son had mannerisms just like my dad. Now, on a seven-year-old, they were cute, kind of rough and jerky, but looking at my dad push his hair back just so or tug at his ear just the way my son did tickled me. Funny thing was that, as I said, my son and dad hardly ever saw each other, so I kept wondering how they got the same mannerisms,'' the Colonel said, brushing his hair back with his right hand, then tugging at his ear. Almost Kris smiled.

''Your son got your dad's mannerisms from you,'' Tom said.

''Yeah, and, of course, I don't live in front of a mirror, so there was no way I could notice what I did. But my son did. And I guess I noticed what my dad did.''

''But not consciously,'' Kris said.

''Never consciously.''

And Kris unfolded her arms, ran a nervous hand through her hair, and started thinking out loud. ''I remember Father telling parliament that they had no choice but to keep capital punishment on the books until Eddy's killers swung at the end of a rope. I can't count the number of times I heard him say, ‘There are no other options.' That was the way he'd send me off to a soccer game. ‘Win. There is nothing else.' ''

''You couldn't lose?'' Tommy asked, incredulously.

''Not as far as my father was concerned,'' Kris assured him. Then she frowned at the Colonel. ''But sir, when I first saw the base, it was a mess. I knew we had to do something about it. I knew we had to clean up the mess hall, improve the chow. The alternative was just to wallow in the mud.''

''Yes, and you did good. Thank God you did what you did. You've given me a second chance. You've got my command moving up, rather than lying on its back looking up. You've fed a lot of people. You chose right that time.'' The Colonel held Kris with his eyes. They were just as demanding, but somehow not as hard as they had been when he'd climbed in the rig.

''This time I chose wrong.''

''Yes.''

''But how do I know when I'm gonna be right and when I'm headed up a cliff?'' Kris demanded.

The Colonel leaned back in his seat and snorted. ''That's the question every ensign wants answered.''

''And…'' Kris insisted.

''With luck, you'll have a pretty good handle on it by the time you're a full lieutenant. You better know it damn good by the time they pin eagles on your collar.''

That only added to Kris's confusion. ''Sir, that doesn't answer the question, does it?''

''No. You've got to find the answer yourself. Better yet, the answers. There're a lot of answers you think you know that you don't.''

''Sir?'' That one really puzzled Kris.

''Who killed President Urm?'' the Colonel asked Kris softly.

Kris blinked and said the first thing that came to mind. ''My Great-grampa Ray.''

''Right, it was in all the papers. Not a history book disagrees. How much have you read about that operation?''

''All the books, I think. The city library had a couple of bookshelves on that war that I went through when I was thirteen.'' And drying out.

''But you've never read the classified post-action report that Army Intelligence did, have you?''

''If it wasn't in the library, I guess not.''

''You're cleared for it. It's old news now. Next time you get close to a secure station, call it up.''

Kris didn't want to know later; she needed to know now. She was about to have Nelly get it any way she could, when Tommy leaned around her. ''Colonel, what does it say?''

The Colonel chuckled at the unexpected source of the question, but he went on. ''It says that Colonel Longknife and his wife Rita have got to be two of the gutsiest people in the universe. They flew halfway across human space with a bomb, then carried it through the tightest security devised by man up to that time. And they did it calm and cool as you please, never giving anyone a hint of what they were doing. Not the crew of the ship carrying them and not the security guards they walked through. Damn, that's guts.''

''So they did kill President Urm,'' Kris said.

''It would seem so. But there's a few questions the poor intelligence weenies writing the report couldn't answer. As a visitor, the Colonel was seated about as far from the podium where Urm was presiding as the security guards could get him. Yet the autopsy report says the bomb went off right in the president's face. There were flechettes that went in the front of his skull and were halfway out the back.''

''How do you get a briefcase in someone's face?'' Tommy asked.

''A good question.'' The Colonel chuckled. ''A better question is, how do you get said briefcase in someone's face and live to tell about it?''

''But Grampa's given hundreds of interviews about the assassination. Are you saying he lied to all those reporters?''

''I've read a lot of those interviews, young woman, and I'll bet you money that your grampa has not told a single lie to any of those media meatheads. If you've never been out on the tip of the spear, Kris, you have no idea what goes on there. Those reporters ask the questions their editors think the average Joe on the street wants to hear. Figuring out the facts of what actually happened is as far from them as''—he snorted—''this planet is from drying out. No. Reporters may understand garden parties, and they think they understand political campaigns. But understand what a soldier does, a sailor? You might as well ask a pig to sing opera.''

Then the Colonel turned his full concentration on Kris. ''But you know what it's like. You've been the spear two or three times. And if you're going to keep putting expectations on poor guys like Tom and those boatmen and your warehouse department, you better have a damn sight better understanding of just what the people did who made ‘those damn Longknifes' into one word.

''Now get some sleep. We've got good people taking care of things around here. The Fourth Highlanders will be down tomorrow, and we can turn a lot of this stuff over to them.'' The Colonel got a strange smile on his face. ''And maybe I can talk their Colonel into throwing a Dining In before I ship you off planet.'' Kris didn't like the look on the Colonel's face. There was something about the Highlanders or the Dining In that held a surprise for her. It couldn't be the Dining In; that was just a meal. ''The Highlanders, sir,'' she coaxed.

''LornaDo's Fourth Battalion, Highland Regiment. I think Regimental Sergeant Major Rutherford is still with them. His dad was with the Fourth and that platoon of marines that your Great-grampa Trouble led up Black Mountain. A battalion and a platoon out to evict a division from a mountain they'd dug in on. Not just any division, but one whose officers were indicted war criminals and whose sergeants and men knew they were going to jail if the newly elected government on Savannah wasn't run out of town fast. You know the story.''

Kris nodded; of course she knew the story. At least, she knew the story the way the history books told it.

''Well, Sergeant Major Rutherford's dad was one of the few Highlanders to walk off that mountain on his own two feet. Gives him an interesting perspective on how the battalion won that particular battle honor.'' And with that, the Colonel turned to the window and, bumpy road or not, went to sleep.

Kris was maybe ten seconds behind him.