Resolute

Chapter 14

Steve waited at the Beergartens to take them to the cocktail party. Kris found herself a bit of a celebrity. Being a Longknife or a princess hadn't impressed these folks. But make a caber toss that MacNab praises and suddenly, everyone wants to shake your hand.

Oh, and thank her for keeping the sailors under control.

Which only confirmed Kris's suspicion that rank wasn't something you could confer here. It had to be earned. She was glad she didn't have to do much more than toss a tree to earn these folks' respect. Of course, the younger men didn't need much encouragement to ask her for a dance. She was on her fourth or fifth when Captain Slovo gallantly cut in.

''Did you enjoy your dinner with the young man?''

''Actually, I ended up back at the airport. They had trouble getting enough clean busses out for tonight's liberty party. Your crew last night left quite a mess.''

''I hope you didn't leave tonight's party cooling their heels at the port?''

Kris measured the question and found it sincere, if lacking in surprise. Did he and boy wonder upstairs discuss this possibility? ''It was standing-room only, but we made it.''

''You are quite a young woman.''

''We Longknifes do what we have to do,'' she said, keeping a smile on her face, but letting the steel show around the eyes.

''Yes, yes you do. You are making quite an impression on Captain Kratz. His wife has presented him with four girls. Sadly, no boys. I think just the sight of you is inciting the poor man to treason.''

''Change doesn't have to be treason,'' Kris said. ''Sometimes it is good for you.''

''Pardon me, Princess, but I believe I'm here to show our flag, not to salute yours.''

''Anytime you take the boys off the farm, you run the risk they won't want to go back.'' They danced in silence after that.

Kris tagged along with Captain Slovo when the dance ended. At the captain's table she asked, ''Captain Kratz, do you dance?''

Slovo shot her an ugly glare, but the other captain accepted Kris's hand and followed her to the dance floor.

''You know, I shouldn't be dancing with you,'' Georg said. ''You can't be too much older than my first daughter.''

''Is she done with her college education?'' Kris asked.

''Our women rarely go to college, but she is in her final year at the Gymnasium. She will graduate as a certified nurse.''

''Does she plan to go Navy?''

''I hear her talking to her mother about that. I hope she won't. Too often, our young men, even officers, are not fit company for a young woman.''

''If a woman is smart, she can often hit them up upside the head, knock some decency into them.'' Kris said lightly.

''As you did last night with that pole?''

''It seemed like a good idea at the time.''

''And it still does,'' the captain said. ''I can't tell you how many times in the last few days I've found myself wondering if my daughter would not make you a very good subordinate.''

''I'd be glad to have her.''

''Now some might take an offer like that to be sedition. Are you asking her father to suggest to the young woman that she desert her proper place in Greenfeld society?''

''Human space is big. Many people move about, hunting for their proper place.''

''Just as you have. Yes, I have seen your file. You do a lot of moving. Don't you ever find yourself wanting to settle down in one place. Raise a family?''

''Now who's trying sedition?'' Kris laughed.

''Shall we call ourselves even? I see your Marine looking worried. If I nod his way, I expect he will cut in.''

''You better nod.''

A moment later, she was in Jack's arms and he was dancing her away from the Greenfeld contingent. ''Is there trouble?''

''Big trouble,'' Jack said through a smile.

''I think I need to go powder my nose,'' Kris said.

''I'll be waiting outside with little Steve.''

Kris excused herself. Those who might have intercepted her recognized the direction of her flight. It only took two wrong turns for Kris to find herself out front. Jack was holding the door open. She slipped into the limo; Jack jumped in and Steve took off. ''Where are we headed, the Beergarten?''

''Nope, the college.''

''College?''

''Sailors ran into a couple of coeds,'' Jack said, ''coming back from the library. They offered money to look at their boobs. Seems there's a really bad movie making the rounds of Greenfeld stag parties about how girls in Wardhaven space earn their living by flashing.''

''Ouch,'' Kris said.

''Girl slapped him,'' Steve Jr. took over. ''Big girl. Small sailor. Sailor started to knock her around. The girls yelled. The girl's soccer team was just coming back from practice. They jumped in and the sailors hollered for help. Lot of sailors came running, but a whole lot of college boys did, too.''

''How big a riot?'' Kris asked.

''Big,'' Jack said.

''Very big according to my source,'' the young cabby said.

''Step on it,'' Kris said.

''You bet,'' Steve Jr. said. Jack cringed as, if it was possible, the drive got even wilder. They came at the college from a different street, avoiding the Oktoberfest. Steve Jr. drove up to the yellow No Entrance tape and waved at an armband who lifted it. The limo followed the flow of interested bystanders until the press grew too thick, then they got out and joined it. It was only a short walk to the next tape. Kris ducked under it, Jack waved off a youngster who squawked at their violation of his orders, and they soon found Gassy standing over three long lines of sailors, facedown on the grass, hands string-cuffed behind them. Not a few of them had bloody noses and blackening eyes.

Off to the left, a few armbands surrounded a large, milling crowd of young men; college boys from their dress. Far off to the right, a lot more armbands walked another yellow tape keeping an angry group of maybe twice as many sailors away from their buddies on the ground. Ron trotted around a stone-faced college building across the way and headed for Kris.

Sailors quickly recognized Kris. ''What kind of shit are you throwing now, Princess,'' someone said. She ignored the catcalls that came with it.

''Ron, you have enough people for this?''

''Kris, I don't have anywhere near enough people to keep my people from tearing these guys apart. Chance is very much a frontier world. We respect our women. This…'' He glanced to Kris's right and now she could see a small medical station set up behind the college men. Several women were being treated for cuts to their faces; bruises on their legs and torsos. A few were holding their tops in place. They'd been ripped off. One woman was sobbing. Another fixed Kris and Ron with an icy glare.

Kris scowled. ''Nelly, connect me to Hank on his flagship.''

''Trying, Your Highness,'' Nelly said formally. ''I'm having to talk to a duty officer. This may take longer than usual.''

''Keep at it. Don't say why I'm calling, just that Commander, Naval District 41, requires a talk with him.''

''No,'' Ron said. ''The Mayor of Last Chance requires a conversation with him. This is my job, Kris.''

Kris could recognize a jurisdictional dispute when it slapped her in the face. Complicating it was the ''Me boy, you girl'' thing, as well. ''We'll do it your way,'' she said.

Almost a full minute later, Nelly brought Hank up on audio, no visual. ''Mayor Torn, why are you interrupting my evening?''

''We've had a riot involving some of your sailors down here.''

''Well, put them in the liberty launches to sober up. No, lay them out beside the launches. I understand they really stank the boats up last night.''

''These attacked some women,'' Ron said.

''Well, boys will be boys. No bones broken were there?''

Ron had not looked away from the young woman's glare. Neither had Kris. ''No. No broken bones.''

''Then no problem. They're sailors. Only looking for a little fun. If this was a Wardhaven fleet visit, things wouldn't be any different.''

Ron closed his eyes, his teeth gritted together. Silently he gave Kris a brief wave.

''If a Wardhaven ship was in port, we'd have our own Shore Patrol out making sure our sailors behaved. Where are your SPs, Hank?'' Kris demanded.

''Oh, I didn't know you were there, Lieutenant. You know how it is, the fleet's scattered thin, budgets are shrinking, and citizens are complaining about high taxes. What with the expansion and us having to protect so many planets from the pressures some people apply on other people. It's a struggle. We can't afford useless specialties. We need every hand working. Work hard. Play hard.'' And Hank cut the line.

Ron reached for thin air like he wanted to choke the life out of it. ''I always knew the guy was shallow, but this.'' He shook his head. ''That settles it. The next drunk that won't take no from one of our women is going to jail and will face one of our commissioners tomorrow. I've had enough!''

''Hank won't like that.''

''I don't like this. Time he had something not to like.''

Kris turned her back on the line of sailors and lowered her voice. ''This could be exactly what he's wanted all along.''

That stopped Ron. ''Yeah? You think this could be the basis for that putsch you've been hinting at since he got here.''

Kris shrugged. ''It doesn't take a crystal ball. They send six cruisers for a port call where one would do. You have to assume they've got a change of government on their agenda.''

''Let me make a few calls. See just how many reinforcements I'll have here tomorrow. If I'm going to walk off this cliff I'm being shoved over, I want company.''

''You'll have mine,'' Kris said.

''Why does that not surprise me.'' Ron had not broken eye contract with the injured woman the whole time he'd been talking to Hank, and then Kris. Now he walked over to the aid station. Kris followed him; he had a hard duty ahead of him. So did she.

Ron paused a few feet from the women, took a deep breath and said simply, ''I'm sorry.''

''Where was the Safety Patrol?'' the woman demanded.

''I don't know. They had a lot of stuff to do, but I'll find out what went wrong.''

''You put a bunch of drunk sailors too bloody close to our dorms,'' the woman shot back. Those around her nodded agreement.

''That was my mistake. We didn't spot that in our planning,'' Ron admitted.

''None of us did,'' Kris added softly.

''I didn't think you Longknifes ever made mistakes,'' a woman from somewhere in the back said.

''We're not permitted little ones,'' Kris said. ''Only really bad ones like this.''

''Will we get more security?'' the woman asked.

''Yes,'' Ron said. ''We're flying in more from the other cities. We've about maxed out our people here.''

''You better get them here,'' the woman said. ''When I leave the dorm tomorrow, I'll be carrying a baseball bat. Any sailor that gets in my way will be looking for his head about three hundred meters thataway.'' There were murmurs of agreement. Kris kept her mouth shut. There was no use telling the women that that kind of incident was exactly what these poor sailors' commodore was looking for.

Ron turned to the college boys. There were a few girls in the circle, mostly in soccer uniforms. ''You all know that you should be facing a Commissioner of the Peace tomorrow morning.''

That brought a lot of muttered responses. ''We were only protecting the girls,'' said the loudest.

''I know,'' Ron said, raising both hands for quiet. ''And I'll have to take these sailors out to their boats and dump them in a couple of minutes.'' The dismay at that brought silence.

''So I'm going to turn all of you loose after we get the sailors out of here. But make no mistake. I know who you are. You do this again, and you will be talking to a commissioner, and not Momma Okaloska, either. If you want to help us keep the coeds safe, talk to Mr. Gasçon about getting an armband.'' From the noise, it sounded like most would take that offer.

Kris turned back to the sailors on the deck. Now a couple of med techs, all male, were walking gingerly among them, looking at noses; looking for other damage. Most seemed minor.

''They're your problem, Commander,'' Ron said.

Now Kris was the one not surprised. ''Listen up. I command Naval District 41, and I rule that station your ships are hanging on to. In a moment, my Marine Lieutenant will pass among you, getting each name and ID. If you show your face on my station, I will lock you in my brig. Don't even think about getting another liberty down here.'' That brought a muttering of wounded innocence, but Kris stepped down hard.

''If the locals see your face again, I won't vouch for you living long enough to see the insides of another liberty launch. Consider yourselves confined to your ships for the rest of this port stay. Lieutenant, establish a permanent record,'' Kris said.

As Jack went down the line, Kris turned back to Ron. ''Just how many reinforcements are you calling for from out of town?''

Ron eyed Kris. ''As many as they can send me. Why?''

''Because I remember Captain Slovo mentioning that all the other ships had left their captains' gigs behind. ‘So they could carry more liberty launches' I think he said. But you can stack three or four light assault craft in the space of one gig.''

''You think the light thingamajigs could carry enough Marines to capture a city's communication center, power plant?''

Kris glanced up and did the attack plan in her head. ''Fifteen to twenty LAC's, five Marines each. Two to a town. How many of your big cities do you think could go silent and you still defend Chance?''

''You know, Princess, there is only one thing worse than having a Longknife at your elbow.''

''Oh?''

''Yeah, not having a Longknife at your elbow when all hell breaks loose,'' he growled. No smile softened his words. But then, Kris didn't expect Ron to smile for quite a while.

''Can you handle getting these sailors out of my sight? I've got some calls to make.''

''Can I coordinate with Gassy?''

''To your and his hearts' content.''

Kris used four busses to move these forty sailors out to the port. She made sure that she had forty guards with them, none drawn from the new volunteers. On the flight line, four from each bus were loaded onto each liberty launch. ''See if you can get a throwing-up kind on each boat,'' she said. The guards were happy to comply.

She called Captain Slovo to tell him he'd have to arrange his own transportation back up. When he tried to question her further, she cut the line. ''Jack, let's get topside.''

Kris flew the shuttle back with only Jack and headed for the Command Center. Chief Odacheke, whom she'd rarely worked with, had the watch. ''Anything out of the usual here?''

''Kind of hard to figure what is usual for this bunch, ma'am,'' the chief drawled, taking his feet off his desk. ''But we do have plenty of sailors out tonight, visiting what you opened. And we have some walkers, trench-coated guys. So far they just walk and look. Don't touch.''

''That might change any minute.'' Kris watched the monitors and drummed her fingers on a work station. ''Your people know they can use their weapons if they have to, don't they?''

''Yes, ma'am, they know that, but I don't think most of them much want to.'' That was the problem with folks that were used to living and letting live. Peterwald's people could change the rules around here in a second, and a minute later these poor folks would still be wondering what was going on.

''You know about the riot dirtside?''

''I watched some of the video. Ugly.''

''Things may get ugly here, too. Or they may not. Would you mind if my lieutenant sat out this watch with you?''

''Not a problem. Extra eyes are always nice.''

''Jack, you keep this watch. I'll relieve you at midnight.''

Jack slipped into a monitoring station. ''I'll call Penny and let her know she's got the four-to-eight watch,'' Jack said. ''Don't argue. We need our sleep tonight ‘cause if all hell don't pop tonight, it will tomorrow, or the next day.''

''Keep your game face on, Jack. You have weapons release.''

Abby went about getting Kris out of social harness as efficiently as she always did. ''I done saw the pictures, gal. The fun's started.''

''Lay out a uniform, and distribute spider silk undies to the team. You have any nice whiz bangs?''

''I might find a few that have fallen down in your luggage.''

''Hunt them up. Tomorrow we rig grenades in the stairwells. I will not have anyone do unto me what I have done unto others.''

''That sounds like a nice way of doing business.''

Kris had Nelly wake her up well before Jack's call, and was showered and dressed when the phone rang. That earned her a glower as she reported twenty minutes before midnight. She slipped into a seat between the old chief, who was briefing Chief Ramirez, and listened as he basically told her, ''Lots of folks wandering around the station. Not a lot of anything going on.''

The old chief of Naval District 41's personnel nodded agreement and relieved Chief Odacheke a few minutes early.

''Marine, how long were you sharing Andy's watch?'' she asked as soon as the chief was gone.

''An hour, hour and a half.''

''You kept a mighty straight face while he was talking. Andy's a good man, but a bit blind when faced with a corkscrew.''

''You mean he sees what there to see, but doesn't draw any conclusions as to what might happen next,'' Jack said.

''What have you seen, Lieutenant?'' Kris asked.

''I've noticed something about those walkers.''

''I did, too,'' Nelly said. ''I was not asleep.''

Kris rolled her eyes heavenward, or in this case, toward the center of her station. ''What did you notice, my fine electronic friend, while this poor body of mine was getting twenty winks?''

''They have checked out all our stairwells, just as I think you expected them to. They have also located all our air ducts and water mains.''

''A water main breaks.'' Kris nodded. ''The stations starts to flood. Everyone is chasing that. Maybe we even issue a call to the ships to send men to help. Even if we don't, people might think we had if the troops charging up the gangplank looked helpful. Behind this a few guys with guns slip into our air ducts. Maybe explosives open the most important stairwells. Great plan. For a Sophomore- or Junior-level course, it might earn a B.'' Kris grinned. ''Not so good against folks like us who teach the postdocs.''

''Let's not get too sure of ourselves,'' Jack said. ''There's lots of ways they could kick this off besides flood—hull breach, fire. What am I not thinking of?''

''I believe your Great-Grampa Trouble once took over a station by hiring the entire computer gang,'' Chief Ramirez said. ''Or was that someone rescuing him. Anyway, it always made me laugh and cry at the same time.''

''What about our information resources?'' Jack asked.

''They're on our side,'' the chief said. ''Also I don't think any of Peterwald's folks have had much luck talking to them.'' She tapped her station, brought up several scenes. ''Not that those walkers don't try to talk to our watch going on and going off. But no one's hung with them for long.''

''I've got Abby going through my or her or whomever's steamer trunks looking for the odd grenade,'' Kris said. ''Tomorrow, I want explosive experts to set up trip wires and booby traps.''

Ramirez raised an eyebrow. ''You planning on demolishing my station? Don't know how Steve will take to that. I do know how I'll feel about it.''

''We have sleepy grenades, flash bangs, plenty of stuff before we have to go to fragmentation or worse,'' Kris said.

''Nice to know I'm not the only pacifist in uniform.''

''Grampa Trouble always says the fewer bodies there are to pick up, the easier it is to make friends later,'' Kris said. ''Assuming they'll be stopped by something less than lethal.''

''That's the trick, isn't it?'' Jack said.

They spent the next hour setting up their list of where to booby trap and how deadly to be. Jack dismissed himself to sleep before they finished, once he was sure that Kris was doing it to his high expectations. Kris was well along with the task when Penny came to relieve her at four a.m. The other lieutenant went over Kris's list. ''I like concentrating around the central office area and the reactor. But shouldn't we do something to make sure the Patton and Wasp—even the Resolute—aren't hit with something for the opening fire or whatever?''

''We'd like to,'' Kris said, glancing at the chief. ''But we're just flat running out of bodies to do things. I don't dare ask Ron for any more. He's got a major headache dirtside.''

''Kris, I know the folks working on the Patton. They're our kind of people. If I ask them to spend more time tomorrow patrolling Deck 1, the docks, and the facilities, they'd do it.''

''The old farts or the kids,'' Kris said, not sure which was the worst idea.

Penny chuckled and rocked her hand back and forth. ''A bit of both. Some kids for enthusiastic racing around, a few older folks for judgment. Don't know which will provide the nasty craft and guile, but it will be there.''

''I'll let you handle that show,'' Kris said, and made a note to look at it… often and carefully. ''We have to remember that Hank decides when things go wrong big time. And it may not be tomorrow. Or the next day. Hank can wait for as long as he wants and we have to stay ready.'' The others nodded agreement.

Actually, they were all wrong. Hank didn't get to decide when to kick off the revolution… a drunken sailor did.