Mutineer

CHAPTER SIX

The Typhoon lifted on schedule at 0600. At 0700, while most of the crew was at breakfast, the XO converted the boat from Air Vehicle/Planet Lander mode back to Acceleration/Non-Combat mode. Kris reached the bridge just as the reports on the Success/Lack There Of began to pour in.

When a Kamikaze-Class Corvette was in noncombat mode; it wasn't a bad ship to be on. The thick hull armor for combat was spread thinly throughout the ship to make spacious passageways and work spaces. The bridge wasn't too claustrophobic, and each officer and many enlisted had their own private room. The XO had followed the book on how to change from one mode to the other and back again. Painful to say, and it was for him, the reconfiguration didn't quite work as the book promised.

Kris got the job of figuring out what the book missed. As Defensive Systems Officer, she was trained to move the ship's skin around in combat to compensate for damage. That left Kris the only one among the Typhoon's ten officers and sixty crew even marginally qualified to answer questions about wayward lockers, storage rooms, tool chests, et al. Kris spent most of the trip back to Squadron Six's base on High Cambria trying to get the Typhoon's insides back where they belonged. Ninety-five percent of everything worked just like the builders' specs said it would.

Kris worked sixteen-hour days on the remaining 5 percent.

It had its compensations. There was new respect in the crews' eyes even as they pestered Kris for this and that.

Quite a few put in a good word about the rescue. And all of them thanked her for what she was doing now, even the last, the owner of footlocker 73b2 and tool locker 23's mechs. After five tries, and five failures, neither space would move to its designated location. Kris solved it, finally, by having the spacers involved empty the lockers in their wrong locations, deleting them, then re-creating new ones in the right space. The Typhoon seemed to tremble with a quiet sigh of relief and a cheer when Kris finished. ''Hope we don't do that again any time soon,'' Kris muttered to herself… and the rest of the bridge crew.

Captain Thorpe raised an eyebrow to the Exec.

''I followed the steps in the manual,'' the Executive Officer defended himself. ''You were looking over my shoulder, sir.''

''Yes, I was.'' The captain chuckled, then turned to Kris and actually let the smile stay on his face. ''Right, Ensign, we will avoid this drill in the future. Before you stand down, Ensign, write me an experience report to forward to ComAttackRon Six for Commodore Sampson's review, entertainment, and referral to the yard for an explanation.'' The bridge team shared a laugh, and Kris stowed away the skipper's smile. It looked like she'd finally made it. She was an ensign, just one of the crew.

Then they arrived back at base and went immediately into stand-down for storage. Except for the captain, all officers went on half pay. They could leave the ship for the next three months, or they could work half-time, rotating with each other. The four department heads planned to do that. The six junior officers like Kris and Tommy were told they had a choice: get lost for all three months or just for the first six weeks, then work the last six for chow and a bunk. Either way, leave a place the Navy could contact them in case of emergency recall.

Kris found Tommy flipping through the freight lines, looking for a cheap ticket back home. ''We Santa Marians always knew we were the wrong end of nowhere, but with these connections, I'll get home just in time to come back.''

''There's a direct liner leaving for Wardhaven tomorrow. We could be there in four days.''

''And what would I do on Wardhaven?''

''Keep me company. Tell my mother there was nothing dangerous about how I won the medal my father is going to pin on me. You know. Provide moral support.''

Tom laughed. ''And your ma's going to believe me?''

''More than she will me.''

So it was settled. They dashed aboard the luxurious Swift Achilles a good ten minutes before the air locks were hatched down. Each ended up sharing quarters with six other junior officers headed for the beach, but Kris figured a cruise ship would be good for some serious relaxing. She was wrong.

At breakfast the next morning, she bumped into, literally, Commodore Sampson, the commander of Attack Squadron Six. He eyed her like she was something really hideous that had just crawled out from under a rock. Kris was getting used to senior officers giving JOs that treatment. Out of uniform, she braced and said, ''Good morning, sir.''

''Ensign Longknife, isn't it?'' the short officer rumbled. Kris agreed that she was. ''Interesting report on smart metal. Your grandfather's shipyards should find it informative.''

''Yes, sir,'' Kris answered, then headed for the other end of the dining room where the lowlifes and JOs hung out. For the next four days, she did her best to be elsewhere when her superior officer was anywhere.

Once the Swift Achilles docked at High Wardhaven, Kris had Nelly take charge of seeing that her and Tommy's luggage was shipped dirtside. She wanted her hands free as she moved about the station, hurrying for the elevator. It couldn't be that she was excited about being home. A sign at the elevator station proudly announced that the contractor had finally gotten the bugs out of the passenger cars on the orbit-to-surface elevator, a reminder that the Navy wasn't the only one with quality-control problems. Viewing cars were now available, and Kris and Tom grabbed tickets for one's fourth level, the one that gave a full view of Wardhaven as they dropped.

Once the car came out of the station, there were ohs and ahs at the view of the planet laid out 44,000 kilometers below them. Kris found tears forming in her eyes. Just four months ago she would have been glad to never see Wardhaven again. Today it was the most beautiful place in the galaxy. Its white clouds spread across blue oceans; its lands were green or brown or even bright yellow when the desert outback came in view.

''It looks just like Santa Maria,'' Tommy noted beside her, ''but not as beautiful.'' Did everyone in human space feel that way about their home planet?

At midcourse, the car began to decelerate; Kris went from being gently pushed back into her seat by the one-quarter g force to hanging on her restraints. A computer voice suggested they turn their seats around, but Kris was not about to give up this view. Now she could make out the particulars of home. Lander's Bay, a curving hundred klicks of water. Barrier islands had made this spot on the equator the choice for orbital landers until a runway could be built. The Old Miss, wide and reaching far back into South Continent had given the city of Wardhaven a boost for trade both off planet and up-country.

''What's that needle?'' Tommy asked.

''Grampa Alex's doing,'' Kris answered. ''Most of Great-I-forget-how-many Grampa Nuu's factories are off planet now. But we still own that chunk of land east of the river and south of town. He's turning it into one monstrous office and apartment complex and returning most of the land to parks. He bragged you'd be able to see the center piece of it from low orbit, and you can.''

''You own all that?''

''My family does,'' Kris corrected, not relishing the awe in Tommy's voice. ''We're a big family. I don't own all that much.''

''Yeah, right.'' Tommy didn't sound all that persuaded.

Kris suppressed a sigh; right about now was when she lost a lot of friends. Instead, she pointed. ''Those lakes out there beyond town. We used to have a sailboat. Honovi, my older brother, and Eddy and I would go sailing whenever we could. We would have sailed all summer if they'd let us. You ever go sailing?'' There, she'd said Eddy's name. She didn't choke on it. Her heart hadn't bled. She'd saved Edith; maybe now she could face Eddy.

''That pool back at OCS was the first time I saw water over my head,'' Tommy reminded her. Now, only a hundred klicks up, most of Wardhaven City was coming into view. Kris noted how much farther the city had spread around the bay since she'd seen it from Grampa Trouble's racing skiff. Well, Father's eight years had been prosperous ones. Good for Wardhaven. Good for his reelection campaign.

Now the car shuddered as the brakes were applied, and they slowed to a crawl to enter the station. As soon as the car turned level, riders were unhitching their harnesses, reaching under their chairs for their carry-on luggage even before the car announced such goings-on were safe. Kris was in no hurry. Even though Nelly had messaged ahead, there had been no one to meet her at High Wardhaven. She doubted there would be anyone here.

As she and Tommy looked for their luggage, Kris got a surprise tap on her shoulder. She turned and yelped with glee.

''Uncle Harvey.'' She threw her arms around the old chauffeur and gave him a hug and kiss on his scarred cheek. It took an effort to believe that he'd been younger than she was now when his one battle qualified him for disability and a plush job at Nuu House, as he called his work. To Kris, he'd always been old Uncle Harvey, and he'd always taken her to the soccer games, the plays, and all the other places a little girl had to go. And he'd stayed there to cheer her on, buy an ice cream to celebrate victory or take the edge off defeat. They'd been through Eddy together. Uncle Harvey was the one person she'd dare share her ''If only I had…'' horror with. And sharing, she'd discovered she wasn't alone with thoughts of what might have been.

''Where's Mother and Father?'' she asked.

''Now, you know they're busy, or they wouldn't be the important people they are,'' he said, taking her luggage.

''You're traveling light, only one bag. I haven't seen you manage that since you were shorter than my knee, and the bad one at that.''

''I'm an officer now, in case you haven't noticed.'' Kris did a quick whirl to show off her undress khakis. ''You always said you travel light in the Army, well that goes double for Navy.''

''And who's this other poor sailor hanging around an old man, looking eager for a ride?''

''Harvey, this is Ensign Tom Lien, the best friend I've made in the last five months. We're both kind of on the beach, and he's from Santa Maria. I thought we might have room for him for a couple of weeks.''

''Not at the Residency, they just hired two new special assistants. Damned if I can tell what's special about them. Anyway, there's no spare bedrooms anymore. It'll have to be the old Nuu House,'' Harvey said, reaching for Tommy's bag.

The young ensign swung it out of Harvey's reach, ''Da would tan my hide if I let a gray hair like you lug me bags.''

''If you can find a gray hair up there, you're welcome to it, but thanks for not saying old baldy. I suspect your folks raised you better than that.'' They exchanged grins. ''Come on, you two, the car's just a short walk. Let's get moving.'' The car brought more happy time. Gary was with it. A six-foot-four linebacker type, Gary was Kris's security detail at games and restaurants and whatever for the last ten years.

''What's Mother's schedule like?'' Kris asked as she settled into the backseat of the black limo. ''I was hoping for a quiet dinner tonight.''

''It's a state dinner tonight for the both of them,'' Harvey said. ''We've got a visiting delegation of firemen from old Earth, out here to talk and jabber and not do a thing. They've scheduled a quiet dinner tomorrow, only a dozen or so besides you and your brother.''

''Tell Mother I'll have Ensign Lien with me.'' She immediately silenced Tom's protestations with a wave. ''If you aren't there, the prime minister will have me paired with some old or young lecher whose vote he's chasing. With you, at least we can crack Navy jokes under our breath.'' That settled, Kris eyed the city around her. Everywhere she looked, something was being built out of stone and concrete. The red brick buildings that seemed so tall when she was just a kid were being replaced by buildings that soared out of her adult sight. Yep. Times were good, traffic was lousy, and Father was at no risk of losing any election he called. Five months ago, that was all she supposedly needed to be happy. How a little time had changed that.

As they approached the old Nuu mansion, Harvey regaled Tommy with the tale of its growth. ''Old Ernie Nuu started with that two-story block over there. That's where I and the Mrs. live. He added that long three-story wing when the grandkids started coming. Then, with the General bringing in all kinds of people, not just the likes of me, he added a new kitchen and dining room, a ballroom, and a couple of dozen parlors and studies with the fancy columned portico. The great library was, I think, his wife's idea. Then with great-grandkids, he built another wing. They say old Ernie was building until the day he died. Folks still swear sometimes they can hear him walking the halls at night.''

''I never heard him.'' Kris frowned at her deprived state.

''You were never quiet long enough,'' Harvey shot back.

Gary smiled.

Now, there was someone quiet enough to hear a ghost. Kris started to ask him. Before she got a word out, the main gate came into view. It was staffed by a dozen marines in battle armor and rifles.

''I thought you said Father was at the formal residency.''

''He is; this is for the visiting firemen. The General himself is back from Santa Maria. Your Great-grandpa Trouble is due in today.''

''What's going on?'' Tom asked.

The driver and security guard exchanged glances. ''Need-to-know basis, son,'' Harvey answered. Kris and Tommy had to produce IDs and retina scans to prove they were who they were. As the car came to a final rest before the front portico, Kris realized that between college and the Navy, it had been a while since she crossed that door. It opened automatically as she approached; Nelly had done her job of answering the door's challenge. The foyer was in shadows, but it was the floor Kris eyed.

Great-great-grandpa Nuu had been in his spiritual phase when he built this section. The floor tiles were a spiral of black and white, starting along the wall and closing into a tight coil in the center. The design was from an ancient Earth cathedral; as a child Kris had walked it as a kind of game, her on the blacks, Eddy on the whites. Always they met in the middle. It had been a long time since she'd walked it.

The ensign who saved Edith Swanson wondered what it would feel like to walk it now.

The great library, off to the right, had more marine guards, these in dress red and blue. They eyed Kris as she crossed the cold marble floor, came to attention. It was clear that if she came an inch closer, they'd very likely shoot. She and Tommy headed directly for the thickly carpeted stairs. Kris got her old third-floor room back. Harvey apologized for putting Tom so far down the hall. ''All the rooms in between are taken.''

''Who's in them? Could they be moved?'' Kris asked.

''General, general, admiral, colonel,'' Harvey said, pointing at each door.

''I guess we don't move them,'' Kris agreed.

''Would you have a small corner, maybe up in the attic, where I could lay a sleeping bag?'' Tom asked, voice cracking.

''Tom, what's to be afraid of?''

''You're a girl. You don't have to worry about meeting one of them when you're halfway through a shower or sitting on the can. I'll be standing there at attention, myself hanging in the wind. Kris, this is not what I bargained for.''

Harvey turned to rest a hand on the young ensign's shoulder. ''I know how you feel, boy. Fresh out of the Army with private stripes still on my soul, being around the General and those that ended up around him, it was a shock to the old system. But, son, they get up just like you and me, every morning. And it seems to me that the higher up they go, the more they know that. Not all, but trust me, any around the General and Trouble are good ones. If they weren't, they wouldn't have had the smarts to come here to ask the General how to get out of this mess.''

''What mess?'' Kris asked.

''Not for the likes of me to know, girl, but if I was a betting man, I wouldn't bet an Earth dollar that the Society flag is flying over Government House next Landing Day.''

''Devolution,'' both Kris and Tom whispered the word. ''Is it that close?'' Kris finished.

''Ask the prime minister. Better yet, ask your grampas.''

Kris wasn't so sure she wanted to meet folks studied in her history books. Besides, she had things to figure out about her last mission and with the whole of human space on the line, this was no time to meet a bunch of family strangers and dump her problems on them. ''Harvey, could I borrow a car? I'd like to go see Aunt Tru about some computer stuff.''

''Tru will love that,'' Harvey agreed, ''but why borrow a car? Isn't my driving good enough for you?''

''Yes, Uncle Harvey, but aren't you busy?''

''Hang around this place too long, and they'll have me taking care of the cook's wee ones or even my own great-grandkids. Nice little tots, but if I don't keep moving, the women will have me changing diapers. I'd rather be driving.''

Fifteen minutes later, Kris and Tom were in the backseat of a much smaller car. Of course she had time, honorary Aunt Tru assured Kris. She'd just been working on a way to jimmy the new local lottery, but their network was down just now, so there was no rush. Tom gave Kris a questioning look and confessed to no longer being sure when the people around Kris were exaggerating. Kris laughed and told Tommy how Tru had helped her through elementary algebra in first grade and even given Kris her first computer. Then they got to Tru's penthouse apartment; it hadn't changed a bit, though a shiny new complex was going up next door.

''I thought you said she was a retired government worker?'' Tommy said.

''She is. She bought this place when she won the lottery fifteen years back.''

Tom gave Kris a sidewise glance but didn't say a word.

Kris missed a step, rerunning what she'd just said. ''Aunt Tru would never cheat. If she could win the lottery every time, why doesn't she?'' Kris asked no one in particular.

''Smart woman knows not to push a good thing too far.'' Harvey winked.

And Kris found herself wondering just how much of what she accepted without question as a kid was in dire need of a second look now that she was a woman.

Then Tru opened the door, and Kris got lost in a hug of mega-huge proportions. Mother never touched, and Father never even came close to Kris, but Aunt Tru hugged. Kris let the breath go out of her as she had so many times before. With it went the tightness in her stomach and the iron-fisted grip at her throat.

It was Tru who broke the hug and ushered them into her living room with its spectacular view of Wardhaven. With Papa Nuu's industrial plants off planet, the capital city was a lovely place of trees, boulevards, and towering buildings watered by the Old Miss's meanderings. Tru had heard of Kris's experience on Sequim…it seemed most of the Rim had. There were even pictures of her LAC ride, so that was not something Kris could avoid when she met Mother, though, with luck, the woman would have no idea what she was looking at. Tru briefly swapped stories with Kris about the one or two times she had ended up with the booties, dodging bullets while she tried to find the right algorithm to close down all that noise. Now Kris caught the tightness around her aunt's eyes, the catch in her voice.

Tru dismissed herself to get herbal tea or fresh-squeezed lemonade for her guests. That was one of Tru's rules; no talk before some good, healthy refreshments. Even in Kris's bottle days, a dose of Auntie Tru's lemonade had been better than bourbon. Kris rummaged up the computer she had removed from the crime scene on Sequim. When Tru returned with a tray, it was sitting as innocent as it could on the coffee table.

''A little present for your Auntie Tru?'' she said, putting down the tray.

''A little old and beaten up for a present,'' Kris said. ''More like a puzzle. You still like puzzles?''

''Umm,'' Tru said giving the computer a quick once-over while the others served themselves. The computer was an old wrist unit, fairly thick and heavy, at least 200 grams. It used an old-fashioned display; didn't even jack into eyeglasses. Tru tried and failed to activate it. ''Wiped at a pretty low level,'' she observed.

''Can you get at it?'' Kris asked.

''Probably,'' Tru muttered, eyeing the empty tray.

''I thought I had some cookies, but I seem to be out.''

''I could bake some,'' Kris said, jumping up. Tru had been the one who taught Kris all that she knew about kitchens. It wasn't much, but Tru could whip up a wicked bunch of chocolate chip cookies, and Kris had learned from the expert.

''You talked me into it,'' Tru smiled, her eyes still concentrating on the unit. So, while Tru turned her kitchen table into a hacker/cracker dreamland, Kris led Tom in an assault on Tru's immaculate kitchen. As they had for many years, the pans waited for Kris in the lower right drawer beside the oven. The flour was in the white earthen jar on the back of the kitchen counter. A bag of Ghirardelli chocolate chips stood its usual watch from the top shelf in the pantry. So much in the world had changed, but Aunt Tru's kitchen was a constant Kris could always count on.

There is something to be said for the spiritual healing power of turning a little girl loose in a kitchen to bake cookies…or a big girl, for that matter. As the wondrous smells collected around them, she and Tom licked the spoon, snatched scraps of dough, and would have pulled chunks off the main ball if Tru hadn't announced loudly and forcefully her fear that nothing would remain to cook.

Harvey curled up in a corner with his reader, checking all the oddities in the news and sharing the strangest with anyone listening. Tru tinkered with the computer; its cover was now off, its innards revealed like entrails to be read.

''This bit of artificial intelligence is part of a kidnapping investigation, ongoing on Sequim, isn't it?'' Tru asked, attaching chunks of the offending unit to an analyzer she'd built herself.

''Yes,'' Kris admitted, pausing from greasing a cookie sheet. ''But the local cops didn't seem all that interested in it. At least, no one asked where it went. I figured you'd have a better chance of getting at it than anyone on Sequim. And besides, I came near to dying on a minefield set by those punks, brand-new Mark 41 land mines that aren't even issued to my marines, much less to kidnappers. I want to know where all their tech came from.'' Kris pursed her lips.

''And the up-front money.''

''How are they building their case?'' Tru said absentmindedly.

''On confessions,'' Harvey put in. ''The four are singing like fine Irish tenors in a well-stocked pub, wouldn't you say?'' he asked Tom.

''Loud, if not so sweet,'' the young ensign answered.

''Four,'' Kris turned from her kitchen duties. ''We captured five.''

''One had a heart attack the day after you bagged him,'' Harvey said without looking up from his reading.

''Hmm,'' Tru muttered before Kris could ask which dead man was already filling a coffin. ''I'm in, but it seems that paranoid here encrypted everything. Looks like a standard commercial package. Should have some interesting stuff in a few minutes. Who are these kidnappers?'' Tru asked Harvey.

''They claim to be just petty crooks,'' Harvey said, flipping through his reader.

''And they were from?''

Harvey paged back. ''Earth, New Haven, Columbia, New Jerusalem.'' That covered a big chunk of the Seven Sisters, the first planets colonized from Earth. The first two, New Eden and New Haven had been wide open. Yamato, Columbia, Europa, and New Canton drew their original populations from specific regions of old Earth. New Jerusalem had been a unique case…and still was. Five petty thugs from Earth and three of her seven overpopulated sisters had snatched the child of the general manager of a raw rim colony. That invited a raised eyebrow from Tru.

Harvey snorted. ''Damn punks got a government dole to feed them and nothing else to do. Small-time hoods must have figured they could make it big out here hitting on some hardworking rim type and retire to perpetual fun and games back home.''

Kris hid her surprise at Harvey's attitude. She knew a lot of rim folks didn't think much of the billions in the central worlds that wouldn't immigrate. Kris had even studied the situation in college. It wasn't that Earth and the Seven Sisters actually were welfare states; their teeming billions were as fully employed as you'd expect for a mature economy. What they were was self-absorbed, maybe a bit self-important, and more than a bit decadent. It wasn't a mixture to appeal to the rim worlds. Add in an incident like this that only served to solidify misperceptions like Harvey's, and things could get volatile. ''That's the way some folks would perceive it.'' Kris skirted confrontation with her old friend.

''Perception is everything,'' Tru muttered. ''And reality…may be subject to change,'' Tru finished with a smile and sat back in her chair. ''That didn't take so long. Let me copy this to my newest child. Sam can organize the data while we try a few of those cookies,'' Tru said, then mumbled softly to her personal computer to get it working on the project.

''They need a bit more time to cool,'' Kris said, but was already using the spatula to move them to a plate. The chips were gooey and dripping; the cookies were as delicious as when Kris had needed to stand on the chair to get at them. So much had changed in her life; Aunty Tru's cookies had not.

The first dozen cookies were gone, the second batch just out, as a third batch went in the oven, when Tru grew distracted by Sam's report. Tru slipped a phone in her ear, muttered a few things under her breath, and passed up the next offered cookies. She leaned back, eyes going unfixed as she listened, a frown growing on her lips. ''Seems to be a perfect match for the news reports. Too perfect.''

Kris set down a cookie, wiped her hands, and took a close look at the wrist unit. It looked old, battered, pretty much the standard type of unit that anyone could buy for twenty bucks for the last fifty years. Kris reached up to move the overhead light. Inside the back of the unit was a mess. ''What's that crud?'' she asked.

Harvey looked up from his paper, squinting. ''Looks like the gunk that gets in your wristband. You know, the stuff you clean out when you're supposed to be doing your homework.''

''But inside the unit?''

''Bastard must have sweated a lot and never cleaned it. Slopped over inside. Surprised it's still working,'' Harvey shook his head at such slovenliness.

''Let me see that. Oh, Auntie's eyes are getting old,'' Tru shook her head ruefully. She left the room, returning in a moment with a black box that Tom was immediately making loving eyes at. Tru set it down next to the unit, then began muttering orders to her computer. In a moment, tiny filaments sprouted from her box and weaved their way to the unit under study. Tiny, thin strands glistened in the light as they wandered over the surface of the unit's back. Then two attached themselves to something. Those strands attracted others, and the filaments wove together into a solid pair of wires.

''Found the input and the output.'' Tru smiled happily.

Kris frowned. ''Input and output of what?''

''The real computer this bastard was carrying. Your poor old Aunt Tru has been wasting her time on the stalking horse they put there to distract her. Now we'll get at the real stuff. This may take a while. Do I smell cookies burning?''

That batch went into the trash can. While Kris made the next batch, Tru and Tommy leaned over the wrist unit, studying it with new respect. ''What's a two-bit punk doing with this kind of tech?'' Harvey asked.

''They've been surprising us with tech all along,'' Kris called over her shoulder as she put the next cookies in the oven.

''Yes, yes,'' Tru agreed. ''The old girl is getting forgetful.'' Kris wiped her hands on a towel and went to stand over her two favorite elders. ''What kind of computer is that? I've never seen anything like it.''

''You won't for a few more years,'' Tru assured her. ''Self-organizing circuits will revolutionize wearable computers like my Sam and your Nelly, but the cost is out of sight. Some of my friends are using it for covert missions.''

''Like this one?'' Tommy asked.

Tru leaned back in her chair, eyeing the objects lying on her kitchen table as if seeing them for the first time. ''Yes. Like this operation.''

The following silence was broken by two beeps. Kris turned her attention to the oven, whose timer she had finally remembered how to work, while Tru returned to the center of their attention. Kris was starting to put the next dozen cookies on the sheet.

''Don't,'' Tru ordered. ''Put the dough in the refrigerator. Turn the oven off, and put the cookies in a napkin. We're going visiting.''

''Where?'' Harvey asked.

''Nuu House. Kris needs to talk to her Great-grandfathers Ray and Trouble.''