Mutineer

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Colonel Hancock personally drove Kris and Tom to the spaceport next noon. ''Not exactly the way I arrived,'' Kris said when he offered, thinking, He really wants us gone.

''And this place ain't anywhere near what it was when you showed up,'' the Colonel said. ''Is it always this way with Longknifes? Their bosses either charge ‘em with mutiny or give ‘em a medal?''

''You tell me. I'm kind of new at this Longknife business,'' Kris said, and realized that it was true. Twenty-two years old, and she was only just discovering what she was really about.

The lander played the usual game of dodge potholes on its run out. As spacers and a handful of officers wound their way from shuttle to the buses Kris had hired, Colonel Hancock turned to her. ''Give my compliments to Captain Thorpe. If he's anything like the fellow he was at the academy, he'll be happy to have a tiger like you on his boat.''

''Hasn't shown much appreciation.'' Kris laughed. And if what the captain had been passing her way was his idea of happy, he was a very strange man.

''You have to remember that fellows like your captain put on the uniform to be war heroes. Hasn't been much call for that out in space. I tried to talk him into joining the Corps, but he wanted to command his own ship. Wonder if he regrets that?''

''I'm not about to ask,'' Kris said.

''No, don't. It would ruin the effect of the fitness report I'll be forwarding. I suspect it may change the way he looks at you now that he knows he's got a tiger and not some debutante pussycat.''

Kris could hope.

The trip back to Wardhaven was good for catching up on sleep and news…and what Kris had been putting off. She and Tommy studied the news feeds with scowls. As far as the media was concerned, what they'd been doing on Olympia didn't exist.

''And we could have been killed,'' Tommy snorted.

''Not a happy thought,'' Kris said, knowing that someone had been killed. How could she tell Willie Hunter's folks that he'd died for something important when the media ignored it? Kris had Nelly research all the final letters home recorded in literature. Feeling guilty, Kris cobbled some words together from the better ones and sent it off, telling herself it was better for the parents to have a good letter now than something better later.

But nothing in the media prepared Kris for what happened as she hiked though the crowded arrival hall at the bottom of the space elevator. A young woman walked up to Kris and Tommy, looked them up and down, then spat at them.

''You come to kidnap some little girl, you Earthy scum,'' she screamed even as she dodged back into the crowd before Kris could grab her arm, yell at her, The Navy had rescued the last kidnapped little girl, and damn it, I did the rescuing. While Kris was still shaking with unspent rage, Harvey appeared.

''Sorry. I thought after you rang off that I should have told you to wear civvies. There's a lot of bad blood around.''

''And if I get my hands on that young woman, it will be flowing out her nose,'' Tommy growled.

Kris, surprised, gave Tommy a silent raised eyebrow.

''I mean it. I didn't go through losing your signal on that drop and chasing around in Olympia's mud with people shooting at me for that kind of treatment.''

Unbidden, Kris saw again Willie lying in the mud, reddening the puddle with his blood, then the woman. Choking, she tried to find words to say to both. Maybe a poet could; she couldn't. ''How bad is it?'' she asked Harvey, willing him to talk, fill her head with anything but what was coursing through it.

''The PM's keeping Wardhaven in the Society, almost by his fingernails. It's going to break his heart when he finally has to give in. The opposition has demanded a vote. So far, he's managed to postpone it. Your pa wants Earth to call it quits first. That would give Wardhaven more leverage putting together some kind of follow-on organization out here on the Rim. There're fifty, sixty, maybe more planets that would join Wardhaven in some kind of confederacy. But so far, everybody's secceeding from the Society. Nobody's going to anything.''

''Fifty, sixty planets,'' Kris said, doing the numbers in her head. There were over 600 planets in the Society. True, the newer colonies were only associates, but there were 500 voting members. ''What are the rest up to?''

The old chauffeur shrugged. ''Lot will just be happy to be rid of the Society. Greenfeld seems to be pulling a lot into some kind of federation, maybe forty, fifty, the ones they've colonized or hold the mortgages on. Wardhaven's got its own bunch; most were our colonies or places we helped. Savannah, Riddle. Pitts Hope is making noises like it might toss in with us. Big shock for Earth. They figured they could go back to the Society's original fifty and tell the rest of us to go to hell. Not that easy when some that fought Unity decide they like the Rim ways more than old Earth.''

''Sounds confusing,'' Tommy put in.

''Ever tried juggling five, six hundred eggs?''

''Not eggs,'' Kris countered, remembering that Greenfeld was run by the elder Peterwald. ''Try six hundred hand grenades. And why do I suspect the pins are out of a few of them?''

''And aren't you starting to talk like me?'' Tommy grinned.

''Only on a bad day. Harvey, I'm going to need to run some errands. You busy?''

''What do you have in mind?''

''I need to see Tru.''

''Might be a problem. And speaking of eggs.'' The car was waiting where Kris expected. There was a new secret service agent riding shotgun. Kris remembered him from trailing brother Honovi at the reception. The agent was out, peeling a sticker off the side window. The windshield was spattered with eggs.

''Bunch of kids ran by,'' the agent explained as he slowly pulled off something declaring, Earth—Keep Your Hoods at Home.

Kris tried her hand at another sticker, Equal Taxation.

Tommy pulled off one announcing, Humanity—No Limits.

Harvey went around to the driver's side, growled, and pulled off a sticker saying, Remember Little Edith.

''Do I hear some jingoism jangling?'' Tommy asked.

It wasn't a joke to Kris. ''Looks like the opposition has discovered its slogans. Doc Meade said a good slogan could be more dangerous than an assassin at starting a war.''

''Maybe.'' Harvey shrugged as he got the car into traffic, wipers struggling to clean the window of egg.

So now there were liabilities to licence plate PM-4. As the car pulled into traffic, she leaned forward. ''I take it my problem meeting Tru isn't just that my father doesn't want me to.''

''Right. Feelings are running high, daily protests against this or for that. Then there's the news snoopies looking for any scrap of trash to put on the media. They must get paid by the second. Anyway, our place is surrounded. So is Tru's. I had a bloody tail when I left to pick you up.''

''It's still there,'' the agent said, turning around in his seat. ''By the way, ma'am, I'm Jack. I'll be going with you whenever you leave the grounds.''

''Not bloody likely, Jack,'' Kris snapped, pushing herself back into her seat.

''You might find me handy to have around.''

''There've been three attempts to kill me in the last month. So far the score is me three, them nothing. I don't need help.''

''They only have to get lucky once to make it them one, you nothing,'' Jack pointed out softly.

''You snooping for the prime minister?''

''I take it your father doesn't want you meeting this Tru person. You intend to, come hell or high water, and you consider meeting him or her more important than me keeping you safe.''

''I consider me meeting her a damn sight more likely to keep me safe than you hanging around and telling the PM what I do.''

''I'm a big girl now, so buzz off and leave me alone,'' he translated for her.

''Gosh, they actually assigned one that understands plain English,'' Kris marveled in pure sarcasm.

''Listen, my report only has to say you went out, you came back, I was with you. That's a Navy uniform you're wearing. You give orders and expect obedience. How much trouble do you want to make between me and the guy issuing my orders?''

Tommy snorted at that. ''Nice try, Jack, but you haven't been around Longknifes long, have you? They don't care a whit for the problems they cause us lesser humans.''

Kris shot Tommy a scowl. Then again, she guessed she did deserve it. With a sigh, she gave in. ''I'll see what I can do to help you and your boss stay happy. What would you call it, Tommy, penance for how I treated Colonel Hancock?''

''More like how you treated me. And I'll believe it when I see it,'' he said, settling deep into his seat and folding his arms across his chest.

Ten minutes later, Kris muttered, ''I may need a little help breaking out of this place,'' to herself as the car drove into Nuu House. Marines stood at the gate, checking IDs; others walked the perimeter wall. They had to. There were five news trucks parked across the street. All sported satellite transmitters up and sending any and all feed from around the house. Kris spotted at least six news types following the progress of the car.

''They also have airborne cameras,'' Jack said before, Kris asked. ''But if you really want out of here unseen, I might be able to lend you a hand. You scratch my back, etcetera.''

''I think I'll take you up on the etcetera. You got any running clothes?''

''I do, if you're willing to wear the Wardhaven U sweatshirt I give you,'' Jack said with a conspiratorial smile at Harvey.

''Uncle Harvey, have you been telling stories on me?''

''If it will get you a sweatshirt that will stop a three-millimeter dart at twenty paces, you're damn right I'll tell stories.''

''You wouldn't happen to have an extra one of those?'' Tommy gulped.

''From good old Santa Maria U.'' Jack smiled.

An hour later, Kris was wearing gym shorts and a sweatshirt with a bulletproof lining. She, Tommy, and Jack were jogging their second lap of the ivy-covered wall, approaching Kris's special section when Jack muttered, ''Okay, guys, close them down,'' and led Kris through her very own private escape hole.

''How long have you guys known?'' she demanded a minute later as they walked nonchalantly away from the stone perimeter wall.

''Probably before your great-grandmother paid to have it installed when she was a girl.''

''The Nuus weren't political then,'' Kris shot back.

''They had money, and there's no such thing as money not being in politics,'' Jack reminded her, sounding very much like her Political Science 101 professor. Kris knew a losing argument when she stepped in one.

''Nelly, hail a cab.''

Two minutes later, they were headed for the Scriptorum, the one place Kris had been able to tell Tru to meet them without actually saying the name. Tru seemed just as reluctant to trust the public net as Kris. Jack headed them for a dimly lit corner, usually reserved for the young and restless and in love types; it was early in the day and unoccupied. Kris and Jack got their backs to a wall. Tommy scowled and settled into the chair between Kris and the front door; ''Don't like it?'' she asked.

''Don't like having my back to whoever might be shooting at you,'' Tommy said with a glance over his shoulder.

''Don't fidget, and don't look around,'' Jack told Tom sharply. ''Don't worry, I'll keep a lookout. Our biggest worry is a newsie shooting her with a camera. Heaven knows why.

''Heaven knows why they're not using a gun?'' Kris asked.

''I doubt you have to worry about a shooter today. The prime minister's politics are not that divisive.'' Jack told her, apparently unaware that Kris had not been joking about three attempts on her life. Well, the prime minister had overseen Jack's briefing. Kris started to bring Jack up to date, but he was still talking background and he was interesting to listen to.

''Right now, folks aren't sure what's going to happen. Some big people with lots of money in the betting pool don't take well to that. They want to know which way to jump well before the time comes. But you learned that at your father's knee.''

''And some of them like to get a thumb on the scales that decide which way we all will jump,'' Kris finished the statement.

''You're the expert on these things.'' The agent shrugged.

Kris ordered soft drinks all around when the waiter came. It was the same one who'd served them before, but with them in the student spring uniform of the day, he paid them no mind. Tru arrived when the drinks did and slipped into the vacant chair, backing it up against the wall so Jack's view was unhindered. In slacks and a sweatshirt that bore a university logo that was twenty years out of date, she looked the perfect old professor.

''Good to see you,'' she said. ''You having an interesting break?''

''Travel is a very broadening experience,'' Kris offered. ''Good to be back where the sun shines.''

''Right, I've been rather busy with local matters to keep my thumb on what you've been up to. Just why do we need to meet?''

Kris wanted to scream at Tru that Olympia and Willie's death and all the civilians she'd killed were worth people's time. Still, the fair part of her had to admit her personal struggle on that sodden planet hardly held a candle to all humanity choosing up sides and deciding whether to go their separate ways in peace or settle it with a long, bloody war. Kris pulled two vaccine bottles from her belly pouch and handed them across the table. Tru took them, held them up to the light, and frowned.

''What is it?'' Kris asked Tru.

''Obviously not what the label claims.''

''No. Fifty thousand liquid metal convertible boats have come off the assembly line. The six that ended up in my little sideshow are the only ones to date that developed a peculiar tendency to turn into liquid mercury the third time you change them. Those are small samples of what was a thousand-pound boat one moment, a bunch of metal droplets in puddles the next.''

''Kind of leaves you up the river without a paddle or a boat,'' Tru said, unashamed at not passing up the opening.

''In the worst way at the worst time,'' Kris agreed dryly.

''Assassination attempt number two,'' Tru said, and Jack's head jerked around to look at Kris. Yep, dear Father had only told him what met the prime minister's elevated burden of proof.

''Nope, probably number three. A rocket took apart my desk the day before. I wasn't there, being at a long lunch with a friend of yours, Hank Smythe-Peterwald. Thirteenth of that name. He saved my life, Tru.''

Tru raised a doubting eyebrow at that. ''Any idea what earned you a rocket?''

''I took down some local warlords the day before.''

''So the rocket was probably a local response to a local stimuli.'' Kris nodded. ''And what was Hank doing on Olympia?''

''Delivering aid. Food supplies we needed. Thirty trucks we were desperate for.''

''Any boats in the delivery?'' Tru asked, rolling the vials between her hands.

''Six of them. Three went poof. Three will spend their lives permanently as bridges.''

Tru pocketed the bottles. ''Most labs probably couldn't tell you anything from these. I know a few that might. Would be nice to get a look at one that still thinks it's a bridge.''

''Nelly,'' Kris said out loud, ''buy a dozen liquid boats from different retail sources on Wardhaven. Ship them to Olympia. Ask Colonel Hancock to accept them as a trade for the three defective bridges. We want them for further analysis.'' Kris paused for a moment. ''Want to bet the three somehow get activated for the third time before we can get them to a lab?''

''Hire a security team to escort the new ones out, be sure the old ones come back. I'll have Sam give Nelly the number of a reputable one.''

''What I can't understand is, why?'' Kris allowed herself to muse out loud on this attack for the first time. ''I mean, trying to kill me while rescuing that little girl on Sequim, that would have gotten half the Rim worlds up in arms against Earth. But me drowning while on an emergency medical run? What political purpose would that serve?''

Tru just shook her head. ''Sometimes I wonder what you Longknifes use for blood. Honey, your dad, your Grampa Trouble, your Grampa Ray are up to their receding hairlines trying to hold on to at least a part of the Society. You add grief to the load they're carrying, and they are bound to start making mistakes they wouldn't otherwise.''

Kris listened to Tru, tried to picture her father broken up over her passing. The picture didn't fit. Then she thought of all the changes in the family after Eddy's death. It had cost Mother and Father. Would her death cost them as much?

Maybe.

''I'll think about that,'' she told Tru. ''What's happening here? Are we going to war?''

Tru blinked at the sudden change in topic. She took a moment to rub her eyes with both fists. For the first time in Kris's life, she realized that her old auntie was old. Very old, probably over a hundred, and those years hadn't been gentle. ''I hope not,'' Tru finally whispered. ''It would do few any good.''

''Who thinks it would do them some good?''

''Old farts who've fought one war and forgotten what it's like. Fresh-faced heroes that are tired of doing a great job of nothing and have no idea what the real face of war is like.'' Kris winced, remembering her hero wanna-be. But he was just a kid…and now would never grow up to learn different.

Tru eyed Kris, seemed to measure the wince against some godlike scale, and shared with her a tired smile.

''You've grown up since I last saw you.''

''Aged,'' Kris offered in its stead.

Tru nodded. ''Then, of course, there's the nutcases who want to be emperor of humanity, for reasons comprehendible only to shrinks. Included among them are your friend Hank's pappy and grandpappy. They're forming up their own alliance anchored on Greenfeld, fifty planets strong. Earth has forty or so that will hang with her. Your father has sixty to a hundred leaning toward whatever Wardhaven does. Other folks are looking around…trying to figure out who they should join, better join, or have to join.''

''Have to?'' Kris asked.

''Peterwald's Greenfeld Group has the mortgage on lots of worlds and is squeezing them damn hard. His planet has a good collection of warships. They were the first to haul ships out of the Society fleet. Folks are looking at geography differently. Short trade routes might be fast invasion routes. Take that disaster you call Olympia. Forty-seven planets within one jump of there. Nearly one hundred and fifty within two. A quarter of human space could be defended by a fleet stationed there…or invaded. Why do you think Wardhaven was so quick to take an interest when it got in trouble?''

''Milk of human kindness?'' Tommy offered.

''Right. Want to guess who bought up all those farms that suddenly came up for sale? Peterwald and associates.''

''I was wondering about that. You saved me a search,'' Kris said. ''Anything else new there?''

''Maybe. Seems one of Smythe-Peterwald's ships paid a visit to Olympia two years back. According to the automated control station in Olympia orbit, it left a week later. There's no record of that ship showing up anywhere for a solid year. Olympia has an asteroid belt. How long do you think it would take to usher one onto a collision course with Olympia? What kind of a volcanic explosion was it that wrecked Olympia's budding economy?''

''You can check it out,'' Kris said. ''There's mud in with the liquid metal. See if it's got asteroid dust in it. If that's not enough, I've got a small can of the stuff in my duffel.''

''Young woman, you are paranoid.'' Tru beamed.

''I contracted it from the people around me.'' Kris got to her feet. ''Nelly, order a cab. I want to go see Grampa Alex.''

Tru shook her head. ''He's a harder man to see than the prime minister.''

''I suspect so, but I need some answers, and old silent Al is the only one that can even guess at them. Jack, you ready to protect me from high-paid private security guards?''

He made a face. ''Overpaid, in my book.''

''Kris, can I walk home from here?'' Tommy squeaked. ''Remember, I don't like guns. I don't like power lunches. I'm just a simple country boy from Santa Maria.''

''Come on, Ensign, let's march,'' Kris started, then froze in place, remembering Colonel Hancock's little talk in the truck. ''Tom, if you really want to sit this one out, it's okay by me.''

Tom reached for her forehead, felt it. ''You sick, woman?''

''No, but I'm remembering what Colonel Hancock said. Sometimes I think too quickly about what I want and too slowly about what others need.''

''Good God,'' Tru drew herself up to her full height, turned her head to first stare at Kris with her right eye, then her left like some monstrous bird of prey. ''Are you growing up, woman? You're actually starting to sound mature. Be careful about that. You can never follow in your father's footsteps if you start considering other people's needs. Come to think of it, I'm not sure any of your ancestors suffered from that affliction. Some of them did have the saving grace of putting their necks out a few millimeters more than the ones they were pushing.''

Kris shrugged off the theatrics. ''Maybe I acquired a little humility with all the mud on Olympia.''

''No.'' Tru shook her head dourly. ''More like wisdom. A horrible weight to bear for one of your disadvantaged upbringing. However—'' Tru grinned, all teeth, ''since you're headed off to meet your old grampa, I don't think you've acquired too much of it to dampen your fun. Now, excuse me, I've got a couple of holes to fill in on a very big jigsaw puzzle.''

''The cab is at the door,'' Nelly reported.

''Well, Jack, you and me.''

''And me,'' Tommy added.

''I thought you wanted out.''

''Hey, a guy's got the right to at least say what's smart, even if he doesn't have the smarts to do what's smart. Okay?''

So, a half hour later they paid off the cabby at the door of the Longknife Towers. They'd had to pass through three checkpoints to get that far. Their IDs had gotten them past the first two, but only Kris's not insignificant holdings of Nuu Enterprises preferred stock had gotten them past the last.

The tower was really two skyscrapers linked at the bottom by food courts and other services for those who lived and worked there. Kris had heard that her grandfather had not been out of this building for ten years. She knew that was bum data; Grandpa regularly inspected his plants in orbit. Still, he moved at odd hours and kept his whereabouts as hard to follow as any spy. Kris had previously put that down to eccentricity and old age. Of late, she suspected the eccentricity might be responsible for that old age.

Under an information sign was a guard station with camera monitors and a half-dozen men in matching green blazers. One rose with a smile and a ''May I help you,'' as Kris led the men through the automatic door.

Kris ignored both the smile and offered help and quick marched for the bank of elevators. Several were open; Kris picked the far one. Marching in, she took station in the middle of it, leaving Jack and Tommy to arrange themselves to each side and behind her. ''Floor two-four-two,'' she ordered.

''Thank you, ma'am,'' the elevator answered.

The guard was now running to get to the closing elevator. The doors quit closing.

''Your order has been overridden,'' Nelly said.

''Override the override,'' Kris ordered. The doors finished closing a second before a rather startled guard would have lost an arm. Kris turned to check out how her men were taking matters. Tommy's eyes were not quite as large as when he was introduced to the pipes up close and personal. Jack seemed nonplussed as he removed his badge and ID from the pocket of his running shorts and palmed it for ready use. Good.

The elevator opened on the two hundred forty-second floor. Kris marched out, followed by her tiny flying wedge.

Sweatshirt and gym shorts had helped them blend in on campus. Among the three-piece suits, the effect was quite the opposite. Talk stopped, people eyed them, but the upside was that people in their way got out of it fast. Kris went through double glass doors into a moderately huge waiting room with chairs, couches, and small conference rooms off to a side. The receptionist was heads up as Kris entered. Eyes locked on each other, Kris marched for her desk. ''May I help you?'' the woman said, a professional nonsmile on her face.

''I'm Kris Longknife, here to see my grandfather,'' Kris said without slowing.

''Do you have an appointment?'' came right back.

''No,'' Kris said, and changed course from the desk to the wooden double doors beside it.

''You can't go in there,'' the woman shouted, getting to her feet, but she'd been outfaked on this one. Kris was at the door before the receptionist could get away from her desk.

''Yes I can,'' Kris said and pushed through the doors into another foyer. The receptionist here was male, big, and already on his feet.

''I require verification of who you say you are.''

That was reasonable. Kris marched to his desk, planted her hand on a glass, and glared at a camera behind the desk. Done with that formality, she sidestepped to allow each of the men following her to do the same. With all three of the intruders stopped on the waiting side of his desk, and work needed to verify the IDents provided, the man settled into his chair.

Kris took the moment to lead her small invasion team around his desk and through the door it guarded. ''You can't go in there until I finish your IDs,'' the man shouted.

''And probably not for a month after that.'' Kris said as the door closed behind her.

The next room was even more spacious than the two before it. The carpet was almost as deep as the mud on Olympia. The walls were wood paneled. Off to one side were a few chairs grouped around a holovid of a Japanese garden and waterfall—correction—around a real Japanese garden and waterfall. The room stank of wealth and power.

Directly ahead of Kris was an older woman seated behind a desk made from a thick slab of stone. At either side of the desk stood two men in matching dark blue suits. Each held a gun out in the standard two hand stance, aimed at Kris.

''Don't take a step closer,'' the gunman on the right said.

Kris decided that, for once, she would do what people holding guns aimed at her said. She halted.

''I am going to raise my left hand,'' Jack said slowly. His words were soft and hard in the deadly way hired killers have of saying the nastiest things in the nicest way. ''It has my badge and ID in it.''

''Do it slow,'' said left gunman. Kris tried to act unconcerned as her stomach did flip-flops. It was a whole lot easier to face armed men when she had her own M-6. But she wasn't here to shoot her way in. She waited, hoping she'd find the right words when this macho ritual was done.

''I am Agent John Montoya of Wardhaven Secret Service, assigned to the prime minister's family. This is Kris Longknife, his daughter. You are in violation of 2CFR, section 204.333 in that you are armed and in the presence of a primary Secret Service subject. I will ask you only once to put down your weapons.''

''I am Senior Private Agent Richard Dresden, of the Pinkerton Agency, Wardhaven Division. You are in violation of Public Law 92-1324, dated 2318, revised 2422, to whit, trespassing on personal property. It has been legally posted that this property is protected with deadly force under subsection 2.6.12 of that statute. You have been warned; now remove yourselves.''

''I guess this is why you don't have many family reunions,'' Tommy said.

''Yeah,'' Kris agreed, ''by the time all our gumshoes have finish citing their legal authority, the potato salad's rancid and there's no daylight left for a friendly game of baseball.''

''Why don't you drop in on the Liens next Santa Maria Landing Day. I'll show you how one of these is supposed to go.''

''I may take you up on that.'' Kris noted that she and Tommy's effort at humor hadn't gotten even a flicker of a smile from the gunmen or the secretary. There is such a thing as being too professional. Enough already.

''Grandpa Al,'' Kris shouted, ''this is your granddaughter. You know it's me, and if you weren't sure, that fellow at the last desk has had enough time to run a full genome on me. How long you going to make me wait out here?''

''And why do you suddenly have a need to talk to your grandfather, young woman?'' the secretary asked.

''Grandpa, I don't think you want me shouting for all to hear just why a twenty-two-year-old woman suddenly feels the need to know a few things about what's going on in her family. Aren't there a few skeletons that you want kept in our closet?''

A door to the left of the secretary opened. A gray-haired man in a gray suit stepped out. The man was near two meters tall, explaining where Kris got her height. ''Gentlemen, I think you can put away your guns.'' The guards quickly did. The man turned back to the room. ''We can finish this later,'' he told a man and woman who quickly stepped around him and left by a door to Kris's left. ''All right, young woman, you've interrupted my day. Come in and say your piece.''

''Sir,'' Jack said politely, ''I should examine any room she's going to be in alone with another individual.''

''Who isn't vouched for by your system, young man. You honestly think my office isn't the safest place on this planet?''

''For you, yes sir, for her…?'' Jack left the question hanging.

''Government!'' Grandpa Al spat. ''Do what you have to.''

Jack trotted to the door, gadgets appearing in his hands that Kris had never suspected could be hidden by shorts and a bulletproof sweatshirt. The senior Pinkerton did a good imitation of joining at the hip as Jack went by. A minute later, both reappeared. ''You have your personal workstation in your desk, as well as a recording device in all four corners of the room,'' he told Grandpa Al, but the report was for Kris.

''Shall I have my personal computer make a full transcript of our meeting?'' Kris asked.

Grandpa scowled. ''All security and recordings off, alpha, alpha, zed, forty-eleven. Happy, young woman?''

''You know Longknifes take more to make them happy than that, Grandpa.'' Kris smiled as she entered the room alone. It was vast. Glass on two sides offered a magnificent view of Wardhaven, better than Tru's penthouse. The room, however was gray: gray rug, gray walls, gray marble desk. Even the sofa and chairs around a gray slate coffee table were different shades of gray. The room smelled as gray as it looked. If air could be completely empty of odor, this room was it. Grandpa Al headed for his desk and only seemed happy when he had it between him and Kris. Nice way to treat family.

''So, what is it you want?''

''Grandpa, it's been what, ten, twelve years since we've seen each other. Don't you at least want to ask me how I am?''

''Computer, how is Kris Longknife?'' he growled.

''Kristine Longknife is no longer in therapy. Her last doctor's visit involved a full physical checkup while applying to the Navy for a commission, which she passed. Her last medical issue involved an infected blister while in OCS.''

''I know how you are, so that should cut the minor stuff. What do you want? And don't waste my time, young woman.''

You don't know the half of me, Kris wanted to say.

Instead, she opened with, ''Who's trying to kill me?''

Grandpa AI actually blinked twice on that one. ''Computer, have there been any attempts on Kris Longknife's life?''

''None, sir.''

''Three, sir,'' Kris corrected the computer. ''I have a pretty good handle on one of them. The other two puzzle me. Why would someone want to kill me?''

Grandpa swiveled in his chair to look out over Wardhaven. ''You seem to have the matter under better control than I. What do the police tell you?''

Kris walked up to the desk and rested both hands on the cold marble. It could have been cut from Grandpa AI's heart for all the reaction she was getting from him. ''The police are not involved.''

That got Grandpa's attention. He swung around to face her. ''Why?''

''Because there's no evidence that any of them took place. Father says if there's no evidence, they didn't happen.''

''Your father is a horse's ass.''

''He feels the same about you, sir.''

Grandfather snorted at that, but he looked up at Kris with gray eyes intense and demanding. ''What makes you think someone is trying to kill you, despite the lack of legal evidence?''

Kris settled into a chair and quickly described the rescue mission. As she talked, Grandpa's frowned deepened. ''So a bum bit of equipment let you fly yourself right out of a trap.''

''Yes. I keep meaning to talk to Father about the shoddy material in Navy issue, but since the only item I'm personally familiar with saved my life, I'm kind of on weak ground.''

Grandfather barked a laugh at that but was all business the next second. ''So what makes you so sure you were the target of that minefield?''

''I captured the ringleader's computer. Tru Seyd took it apart. She found a message saying the ship they wanted had drawn the mission and to prepare the ‘welcome.' ''

''How could they know where to put the welcome?''

''I did a check on the last seven rescue missions the Navy's done. All involved a night jump right into the bad guy's front yard. My captain was out to set some kind of record for shortest time from drop to last shot. I think the Navy's gotten a bit predictable during the long peace, and someone set me up.''

''Reasonable conclusion. What's the second murder attempt?''

Kris described her trip up to the Anderson Ranch and the boat going poof. ''Tru has the samples I got from the boat. She's sending it to a lab she trusts.''

''It could have been an accident. This liquid metal thing is pretty new. My yards have only been making spaceships out of it for five years. Boats, what a waste of high tech.''

''Of fifty thousand made, the six assigned to my project are the only ones with this little defect.''

That got Grandpa sitting on the edge of his seat. ''Who provided you with these boats?''

''Smythe-Peterwald.''

''Smythe-Peterwald,'' Grandpa echoed.

''Smythe-Peterwald,'' Kris repeated. ''The Anderson Ranch was out of radio contact with everyone. The Peterwald yacht was overhead when I mysteriously got the Anderson distress call. It didn't leave orbit until after I was on the river, had already modified the boat's configuration once.''

''The next time you touched the controller of the boat…?''

''It would go poof.'' Kris snapped her fingers.

''Peterwalds,'' Grandpa roared as he shot from his chair.

''Who did you go to, to get money when Eddy was kidnaped?''

Kris's question stopped Grandpa in his tracks. He retreated back to his chair. With a wave of his hand that took in everything out the window, he said. ''Why would I have to go to anyone for money?'' ''Wealth is one thing, liquid assets another. I've gone over our historical accounts. Father's and your money was in blind trusts. Your brother Ernie had the corporation pretty heavily invested in new planet developments, expansion, growth. I don't think he could have provided the money my father needed.''

''Didn't matter. Edward was dead before we received the ransom note.''

''But you and father didn't know that. I don't think the people who set up Eddy's kidnaping had any idea they'd gotten ahold of dumber and dumbest.''

''Set up, not hired?''

''Grandpa, they wouldn't have gone to the gallows if they knew anything. Those kidnappers didn't need any upfront money. The guys on Sequim don't know anything, except for the honcho. He had a heart attack before he could start singing.''

''Heart attack,'' Grandpa said slowly.

''Like the truck driver that killed Grandma Sarah,'' Kris threw across the desk.

Grandfather looked like he'd been hit by a truck. Or more correct, was seeing again the truck that hit him. ''It was an accident,'' he whispered. ''I saw the truck coming, but I couldn't get out of its way. I tried. Fifty years, I've been seeing that truck in my dreams. I always think I can get out of the way. I never do.'' He shook his head. ''But they did an autopsy. There was nothing, no drugs, no beer, nothing in his blood.''

''Grandpa, they didn't take the blood sample until two hours after the wreck. Even back then, they had illegal drugs that could vanish in that time.''

''And Peterwalds always have known their way around the drug underworld.'' Grandpa sighed. ''Smythe-Peterwald the Eleventh was visiting Wardhaven when your brother was kidnapped. You know his son went to school with your dad. Even dated your mother.''

''She never lets us forget. Insists I get to know the son.''

Grandfather winced at that. ''Peterwald offered me the money. Said we could work the details out later. Then the police found the farm and the manure pile with a busted air pipe protruding from it. I didn't need the money after all.

''That's when I quit government. You're too big a target out there. I quit government and made sure I'd always have enough money to do what I need to do fast. Enough money to build a wall around me no one could get through. I told that son of mine to quit, too. So that idiot turns around and runs for my job.''

''So you think the Peterwalds are behind it all?''

''There's enough bad blood between them and my dad. Ray may be a great general and a great president, but every time he turned around he was stepping on the Peterwalds. Closed down a couple of planets they'd invested in when they fell outside the sphere of development he set up with the Treaty of Wardhaven. Closed down their drug running if you believe the rumor mill.''

''Do you believe it?''

''Ray believed he was closing down the Peterwalds. As your dad would point out, you couldn't prove it in a court of law, so some would say it didn't happen.''

''I'm getting a bit tired of almost getting killed by what you can't prove in a court of law, Grandpa.''

''Steer clear of the Peterwalds.''

''Kind of hard to do. I go where the Navy sends me.''

''Resign. Come work for me in this tower. Nothing moves within twenty kilometers that I don't know of and approve. I've made myself a fortress of people who believe in what I'm doing, are well paid, and would die for me. What have you got?''

''Jack out there, until I go back on duty.''

''You'd be safe here. We don't even send our schoolchildren out except on nonscheduled tours and with an armed escort. No better place to raise a child.''

''Sounds good, but I don't have any children just now. When I do, I'll think about it.''

''You should live so long.''

''Grandpa, I intend to do just that.''

The computer on Grandpa AI's desk began to buzz.

''Kris,'' Nelly announced softly, ''I hope you will excuse my interruption, but Earth just announced that it is sending a large battle fleet to Wardhaven.''

''What?'' came from both sides of the desk. ''Looks like it's a bit late for me to resign my commission.'' Kris swallowed.

''Good God, has Earth taken leave of its senses? An Earth fleet here on the Rim is just a causi bellum looking to happen.''

''I thought business wanted a war, or at least a breakup,'' Kris goaded her grandfather, wondering what he'd say.

''Humph,'' Grampa Al glared at Kris like she'd just flunked first grade. ''Earth is our biggest trading partner. Why would I want a customs house between us and that market? And a war just messes up all my business plans. No businessman in his right mind wants a war.''

Nelly interrupted with, ''The official report from Earth is that the fleet is coming to Wardhaven to participate with the Rim worlds in officially dissolving the Society of Humanity.''

''You don't need a battle fleet to haul down the flag.'' He shook his head. ''I know there are Earth types terrified of what our rim expansionists might wander into out in the galaxy. Have they got the upper hand back there? Is Earth willing to use force to keep us in the Society?'' Grandpa wondered.

''But they're just a faction, like our unlimited expansionists. They couldn't be calling the shots. This fleet has to be what they say it is?''

Grandpa shook his head. ''Whatever it is Earth wants to say, they're saying it all wrong.''

''Excuse me for interrupting again,'' Nelly cut in. ''All fleet personnel have been recalled to duty.''

''Thank you, Nelly,'' Kris said, then looked at her Grandfather, ''but to whose fleet?''