Tenacious

50

Captain Drago and Commander Phil Taussig were in dress blues as they appeared to greet Kris and Jack as they came from their night quarters, exactly one hour later and not a second sooner.

“An escort?” Kris said.

“What with all the modifications, I wasn’t sure you could find your way to the Forward Lounge,” the Wasp’s skipper said.

NELLY, YOU’RE NOT PUTTING IN THAT YOU COULD GUIDE ME ANYWHERE. WHAT’S UP?

KRIS, THIS IS A THOROUGHLY HUMAN MOMENT. I’M OBSERVING AND KEEPING MY MOUTH SHUT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

This is going to be a very strange evening.

Despite the report to the contrary, they easily found their way to the Forward Lounge.

“Atten’hut. Admiral on deck,” greeted them as they entered.

For the first time in her life, Kris didn’t immediately shush those offering her this honor. She was too waylaid by what she saw.

The Forward Lounge had been converted into one huge wardroom. As far as she could see, officers stood at their linen-covered tables, china and silverware before them. Every surviving officer, even some who looked pretty banged up, were there. There were even a few Ostriches, doing their best to stand to attention with the humans.

Someone tapped a glass, and they began as one to sing, “For she’s a jolly good fellow.” The song went on; someone had added stanzas that would never be appropriate for children but seemed right at home among her victorious warriors.

Through it all, Kris just stood there.

Maybe her eyes did mist up a bit, but it must have been a flaw in the life-support system. Some irritant in the air, no doubt.

It must have been. Beside her, Jack was having the same problem.

The song ended with a rousing cheer, and Kris began to make her way to her usual head table. Her progress was slow. Every ship’s captain and a lot of their senior division heads were along the main aisle and they wanted to shake her hand. Even Captain O’dell was there with her collection of female officers and four Alwan gun captains who had survived the fight.

Kris got a chest bump from one of them. It was a gentle one. At least gentle enough not to crush ribs.

It took her a long time to get to the head table, but waiting for her there were not only Penny and Masao but also President Almar of Columm Almar and Prime Minister Gerrot of the Bizalt Kingdom.

They greeted Kris with a bow, and Kris returned it from the waist.

Again, Zarra ak Torina stepped forward to translate. Her harness today was red with golden buckles and spangles.

“We are glad that you live to meet us again,” President Almar said as the room fell quiet, again in response to someone’s tapped glass.

“We all are glad to meet you again,” Kris said.

“You have won a most wonderful battle,” Prime Minister Gerrot added.

“A lot of people have won that battle. And many of them are not here to celebrate this victory with us.”

“Yes. Yes,” President Almar said. “Thus it is always. Good young felines die for the homes of their mothers and the graves of their foremothers. We can only offer you our humble thanks that you, who have no homes or graves here, have done us a service we could not do for ourselves.”

“We did what our duty to all sentient life required,” Kris said.

“Yes, so you have told us,” Almar agreed. “But we must offer you tokens of our gratitude, even if they are but minor tokens. They are ours to give, and we give them to you.”

The president looked to her right and two cats, tawny gold coats marked off with the same red-and-gold harness as the translator, came forward. One carried a long black pike with silver-and-jewel inlays along the finely worked point, the other a large sword, its two-handed grip wrapped in gold filigree and studded with sparkling jewels.

Almar stepped forward and took the black-handled pike. “A feline is never without her weapons,” she said, and where a moment ago had been a softly furred hand, now five long claws sprang forth. “However, we learned quickly enough that a good pike could outreach the sharpest claw. Among our people, the Colnan Halberd with its long reach and its sharp blade has defended us from many an attack. In the last two hundred years, few have been honored with the gift of a Colnan Halberd by proclamation of the Congress of Columm. Today, we hope you will accept this from us.”

She handed the ancient weapon to Kris. Kris accepted it with a bow and a “Thank you.”

The room cheered. Kris raised the halberd high so all could see it. She twisted it so that its sharp edge flashed in the light. When the applause slowed, she handed it off to Jack. He accepted it with a bow and stood beside her, the Colnan Halberd at attention.

Kris did the handoff to Jack because Prime Minister Gerrot was coming forward and motioning to the sword bearer to approach as well.

The Prime Minister cleared her throat and spoke. “Among our people, the most ancient of honors is to join their king in the charge. We hope you will allow us to bestow on all of your officers the honor of being Members of the King’s Charge. We ask also that you allow us to bestow on the captains of your ships the honor of Commanders in the King’s Charge.”

“I gladly accept these honors in their names,” Kris said, wondering where this was going and why there was one sword bearer still standing off.

The Prime Minister’s tail twitched, and the sword bearer came to stand beside her. “My king has bidden me to offer you her highest honor. She wishes to raise you to King’s Sword Bearer and Commander of the King’s Charge.” The Prime Minister bowed. “In the thousand years of our recorded history, we have no higher honor.”

The sword bearer presented the sword to Kris, handle first. She withdrew it from its gold-and-bejeweled scabbard and flourished it above her head . . . careful not to slice the overhead or dent the blade.

Who knows which is tougher, Smart Metal or this steel?

No doubt it would be the Smart Metal^TM, but it would be a shame to find out otherwise.

When the cheering died down, the two leaders of the most powerful lands on the planet below did not suggest that someone serve the meal. No, two more warrior types appeared with boxes in their hands. These were made of fine wood, beautifully polished, and just the right size for awards.

Kris recognized the sizes of the boxes. One was as big as the one that came in the mail from Earth and contained the Order of the Wounded Lion. The other was about the size of the box that Admiral Krätz had tossed to Kris and revealed the Pour la Merit, Imperial Greenfeld’s highest honor.

All had come without fanfare.

Apparently, the felines intended to start Kris on a new tradition. When she opened these boxes, they would really feel like awards.

Again, President Almar went first. She opened the smaller of the two boxes. It showed a silver shield with crossed golden swords hung from a watermarked red ribbon with golden edges. “This is the Medal of Highest Valor. For the last two hundred years, it has been the highest award for valor given by the people of Calumm. We offer it to you.”

So saying, she stepped forward and slipped around Kris to fasten it around her neck.

President Almar whispered something.

IT’S GETTING CROWDED HERE, Nelly translated.

TELL HER THAT IT IS NO LESS WELCOMED IN THE NAME OF ALL THOSE WHO FOUGHT, BLED, AND IN TOO MANY CASES DIED WITH SUCH VALOR, NELLY.

Kris’s collarbone spoke softly. The president did not seem surprised.

Again the Prime Minister came second. She opened the larger box and drew out a long yellow sash with a golden medallion.

“The Order of the Rose and the Thistle is the highest order in our kingdom,” she said. “For those who are recognized for their civic contributions, the Rose is first on the medallion. For those who win it on the field of battle, the Thistle takes the place of honor. Your medallion is the first of its kind. The thistle and rose surround an image of our solar system. We suspect there is more to this symbol than we have yet plumbed the depths of.” She finished with a wry smile.

Now President Almar came to stand beside the Prime Minister. “All of you will find at your place, a simple wooden box. Please open it now. In it you will find an expression of our gratitude. It is the Defender of the Star award, and it is meant for all of you who fought for us. Unlike what we have been giving here, it is an award that the people of Columm and the King of Bizalt give together. This is the first such joint endeavor. We hope it will be the beginning of a long and fruitful cooperation.”

Penny opened hers and showed it to Kris. Like the Medal of Highest Valor, it was in the form of a three-cornered shield. In place of the crossed swords, this one showed a sunburst. Here was an award that looked forward and out, not to the past and what it had meant.

Penny gave Kris a wink.

Yep, we’ve started something. Now to help them finish it in the best way we can.

Servers began to circulate among the tables, bringing plates full of roasted something, petite red potatoes, or something like it, and a bean that the server suggested that Kris not look too closely at.

Cookie and Mother MacCreedy made it taste wonderful, wherever it came from.

The President and Prime Minister joined Kris at her table. They were served a plate of raw meat, seasoned with flakes of something green and purple.

Kris didn’t have to make an effort to not look too closely at that.

“Your general commanding your guard, who I understand is also your mate, advised us that we should not have a banquet in your honor the day that you came to our Association Assembly,” President Almar mentioned as the meal progressed. “Something about it being a fast day for your religion.”

Kris glanced at Jack. They both managed to suppress a laugh if not a grin.

“I think that he feared that our culinary preferences might be as hard for you to take as we find your proclivity for burning good meat.”

“I think you might be right,” Kris said.

“You will forgive us,” Penny said. “Our digestion is only able to fully process meat that has been seared. It helps us digest it in ways that our stomachs can no longer do alone. We have been burning our fine meat, as you put it, for half a million years.”

“Do you have a wise saying that goes something like ‘One woman’s meat is another woman’s poison’?” the prime minister asked.

“We have one just like that,” Kris agreed.

“May I ask what you will do now?” President Almar asked.

Kris put her fork down and turned to face the two leaders. “We intend to clean up the alien holdout base on the other side of your system. We will go there, ask them to surrender and, very likely, have to fight them to their death.”

“I noticed that all of the attacking ships were destroyed,” Prime Minister Gerrot said.

“Many were disabled in the fight,” Kris said. “When they found that the battle was lost, rather than surrender, they chose to do things to their reactors that caused them to blow up their ship.”

“We are told that our nuclear reactors cannot explode,” the president said, alarm showing at her muzzle.

“I don’t believe yours can,” Kris said.

THEY CAN’T, Nelly added.

“We use thermonuclear reactors, the next step up from yours,” Kris added.

“I keep hearing that thermonuclear power is just twenty years away,” the prime minister said. “And it has been for the last forty years.”

“It is a difficult jump from fission to fusion. At least it was in our history,” Kris admitted.

“If we can make the jump to our moon, might you be willing to share with us that secret?”

“It is possible if the request comes from all of your world’s people and a means can be found to share it peacefully,” Kris said.

“If that is a deal you are offering, that is a deal we are taking,” the Prime Minister said.

“You say that the Order of the Defender of the Star is your first joint effort,” Kris said.

“The first of many,” both leaders said.

“Then let us give you a system that is all yours,” Kris said, and raised her glass of water.

Those around the table raised their own glasses. It seemed the locals did brew a most magnificent collection of beers. The mess was enjoying not only home-grown meat but also home-brewed beer.

Glasses clinked. The deal was done.

Exactly how Kris would keep her side of the deal was something only a Longknife could figure out.

And they always did what they had to do, didn’t they?