Redoubtable

16

It was Admiral Krätz’s turn to bolt half-out of his chair. “I have my quarters swept regularly. And I had them swept again just before dinner. There can’t be a live bug in here.”

“There wasn’t,” Chief Beni admitted, “until the chef brought that pig in.”

“The chef,” the admiral said, turning to face the man with the sharp, gleaming knife. The man looked shocked at becoming the center of attention so quickly. Maybe his knife was just being raised to defend himself. Maybe his arm was still involved in carving the dinner.

And maybe he was getting ready to throw the blade.

No one snapped an order. There was no time. But suddenly, four Marines were on him, two from each fleet. The white-clad chef went down in a tide of blue, red, green, and black.

“Where’s the bug?” Kris demanded.

“I think it’s in the apple,” Nelly said.

“I agree,” Chief Beni said.

“I don’t have anything,” one of the Greenfeld Marines said, coming away from the wall. He held his rifle, but now that Kris studied him, his pockets were bulging, and he did have a mike and eyepiece. “No device has squawked,” he insisted.

“Crew?” Kris said to everyone in particular.

“The Marine technician is correct,” the chief said, diplomatically, “the bug is silent at the moment, but it is recording. I have cataloged all the electronic devices in this room. This is a new one, and I don’t think that pig is authorized an electronic device.”

“Neither do I,” the admiral growled through grim lips. “Cook?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said, now in the grip of two hefty Marines of different uniformed persuasion.

“Technician, can you recover the bug?” the admiral asked.

The Greenfeld Marine risked a tiny shrug. “Sir, I can’t even verify the presence of the bug. My instrumentation is not able to track something as minor as power use at that level.”

“Chief, can you recover this device?” the Greenfeld admiral asked the Wardhaven CPO.

“I will need to have my computer spin off a large nano device to isolate and retrieve it.”

“Or I can do it,” Nelly put in.

“Is your chief ’s computer as good as Nelly?” Vicky asked.

“Da Vinci is my son,” Nelly said in full maternal pride.

“Nelly, I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Why not, Kris?”

“Because I’m not sure the world is ready to know that there are eight of you.”

“Eight!” Vicky yelped.

“Ah, ladies,” Jack cut in, “could we get this bug before it starts broadcasting all this to the world.”

“Admiral,” Kris began, “none of my computers have generated any nanoscouts since we were invited aboard your battleship. It did not seem an appropriate response to your hospitality.”

“I should say not,” the admiral agreed.

“With your permission, I will generate one to capture this bug,” Kris said.

“Two nanoscouts,” Nelly interrupted. “We need two. One to find the bug we’ve found and a second to locate its repeater. This bug is extremely low-power. For any data burst it sends to get out, it will have to be repeated.”

The admiral’s lips were drawing thin and tight. “Send out your scouts. I expect you to use them for nothing more than what you’ve said.”

“You have my word on that,” Princess Kristine Longknife answered.

A few moments later, a thin filament was barely visible, floating lightly on the air from the pig’s apple.

“If your technician will delicately lift that out and deposit it on my portable work surface,” the chief said, pulling a green plastaglass sheet from one pocket.

The technician looked aghast at the idea and quickly stepped back as a young lieutenant hurried into the wardroom. “You called for me, Lieutenant Peterwald?”

Vicky quickly explained the problem. The lieutenant produced something that looked like a pair of tweezers patched together by a gear freak and did the service of removing the offending bug to the chief’s examination plate.

The chief and lieutenant donned different eye-power-enhancement devices and began oohing and aahing over their catch.

“What should we do about the other four electronic devices the cook has on him?” Nelly asked.

“He has more?” Vicky said, turning her attention back to the young man.

“Four,” Nelly repeated.

“Search him,” the admiral ordered.

The two Gunny Sergeants received the order with a mutual grin that brought horror to the object of their interest.

“I don’t have anything on me,” the chef pleaded.

He could have saved his breath. While four Marines held him down, the two Gunnies, with borrowed bayonets, proceeded to strip him down to the bare skin.

Kris turned away, unsure if they would stop the knife work at that point. Vicky didn’t.

“I’ve launched two more scouts,” Nelly said. “I think you’ll find one device on the front of his belt buckle.”

A moment later, the buckle was on the dining table, and a filament waved from it. The Greenfeld lieutenant didn’t turn from his attention to the initial bug but handed his tweezers off to the technician without even looking up.

The technician carefully placed the new bug on the glass plate.

“If we could have his shoes,” Nelly said, and both black leather shoes were on the table a moment later.

“I think the heels come off,” said Nelly.

They didn’t budge when the technician tried gently to move them.

“Ask the man,” Nelly said.

Kris noticed that Gunny Brown took a step back as the questioning began silently and out of her view. It must have been persuasive.

“There’s a tiny ridge on the sole in front of the heel,” came in a rush. “Press it with your thumbnail.”

The technician did, and the heels popped off, revealing two small chips and a tiny power supply.

They were gently put side by side on one corner of the examination plate.

“Nelly, are you sure about that other device?” Kris asked.

“I think I’ve located it. There’s something with a power supply under the skin of the little finger on his left hand.”

“Left hand?” the Greenfeld Gunny asked.

“Yes,” Nelly said.

And a second later, there was a whimper, and a finger, wrapped in a napkin lay beside the green glass pad.

“I didn’t know about any of those. I swear to God. Somebody must have put them on me,” the naked man insisted, as four Greenfeld Marines hustled him from the room.

Kris would not want to face that man’s fate. She doubted Greenfeld interrogators would start by offering a hamburger and a brew.

The chief and the lieutenant continued to mutter to themselves about the new toys they had found. Neither the admiral nor Vicky seemed happy to be so ignored. Before they could start juggling elbows, Kris popped a question.

“Nelly, have you heard back from your scout that went after the repeater?”

“I think it just located something in the admiral’s office.”

That got both Vicky’s and Admiral Krätz’s attention. They and the technician followed Kris there. Nelly aimed them at a power socket that now had one of the thin filaments waving in the soft breeze of the ship’s blowers.

“Has it been listening to my conversations? Our conversations?” the admiral demanded with a worried glance at Vicky.

“It’s positioned to be a repeater,” the junior technician said, pulling the device out. “The lieutenant will have to examine it to know just what it can do, sir.”

“If you will allow me to send a nanoscout down your power cable, I may be able to locate where the repeater is sending its feed,” Nelly said.

“How much of my ship’s electrical cabling will you have to search?” the admiral asked.

“All of it, I think,” Nelly said.

“I cannot allow your spies the free run of my ship,” the admiral said with finality, then turned on the technician. “I was told that we had secured our ship against just such spying devices as you are now holding.”

“Yes, my admiral, I was assured that it was so.”

“We will have to talk about this,” he growled as he turned back to the wardroom.

“Ah, may I suggest,” Kris said softly, “that we continue our conversations aboard the Wasp.”

The admiral began to snap a quick response, then swallowed it. He glanced at Vicky. “What do you think?”

“I think the princess has a point. While I doubt she is offering it to achieve our best interests, I do think it is in our best interests.”

“Then yes, let’s keep our peace until we can talk with fewer ears listening,” the admiral muttered.

They reentered the wardroom, with its ignored roast pig, but before the admiral could issue any orders, Chief Beni turned to Kris.

“Commander, you know that jamming problem we’ve had? The one that can’t happen but just keeps on showing up?”

“All too well,” Kris said.

“Well, I think this little doodad from his left heel is just the thing that’s been causing it.”

“What are you talking about?” Vicky said.

“We’ll talk about it next door,” Kris said.

And with that, they silently wrapped things up and left.