Undaunted

28

The shuttles took an hour to rendezvous with the Wasp; they’d launched when the ship was still on the other side of Texarkana and had to go high to allow her to catch up with them.

Penny was waiting for Kris when her shuttle docked. “You want the good news or the bad news.”

“Go easy on me. I’ve had a lousy day,”

“You’ve made it back in time to get gussied up and back down for the party tonight.”

“If that’s the bad news, what’s the good news?”

“That was the good news. The bad news is that the police radio bands are full of the news that a cowboy has disappeared and that some strange aircraft hauled him off to somewhere.”

“News travels that fast?” Kris said.

“The only good thing I can see is that there’s nothing on the net about any Iteeche.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Kris said, and pushed herself for her quarters, leaving Ron to take care of his own problem and Jack to turn the Marines over to Gunny.

Well, at least if Kris had to go to a party tonight, Jack would have to be at her side the whole time.

Which caused a strange thought to slip into Kris’s mind. What would it be like to have Ron at her side for the dance?

Strange thought. Strange day.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t get any stranger.

So, of course, it did.

Formal clothes on Texarkana did not involve long dresses. They did involve many petticoats under a knee-length dress.

Which in zero gee had a bad habit of popping up.

Abby suggested Kris wear nice underwear.

And a pistol.

Not her small service revolver in its usual out-of-the-way place. No, Abby strapped around Kris’s waist a huge .44 pistol with a barrel fit for a howitzer. Dirtside, that would have to weigh a ton. Oh and the fine-tooled leather belt had lots and lots of bullets.

“They expecting a herd of elephants to rampage through?” Kris asked.

“Big iron’s the style, girl. Didn’t your momma tell you nothing about ‘when in Rome’?”

Then Abby handed her a short sword. It went all the way down to her hemline.

“You’re kidding!” Kris said as she surveyed the ensemble in the mirror. It was insane. The petticoats tried for all they were worth to fluff up the dress. The heavy metal would flatten it down in all the wrong places once gravity did its thing.

“Are you sure this is the latest fashion on Texarkana?”

“Everyone wears a gun, Kris. Man, woman, and child.”

“Child?”

“Kids start with toys, then progress through air guns with soft fluffy shots, to BB guns, to the real things.”

“Please tell me the education system includes nonviolent conflict resolution along with gun safety and target practice.”

“You can ask a parent at the hoedown,” Abby said, handing Kris a large white hat. “It’s called a Stetson, and the locals are right proud that it can hold a full ten gallons when they use it to water their horse.”

“It looks awfully expensive to get soaking wet,” Kris said.

“It’s the custom. Hopefully, you won’t have to water any horses tonight.”

Kris put the hat on and examined herself in the mirror. She’d worn worse. And a whole lot less.

“Tell me, Abby. How did you know that I’d need to wear something like this on Texarkana?”

“You know all that intelligence I sell about you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I buy a lot, too. Now get moving. You’re gonna be late.”

The trip down was much calmer than the last one. Kris’s main concern was getting her seat belt around the big iron and the short sword. Jack was in the seat across from her. His dress red and blues absorbed the .44 much easier. His sword was standard Marine issue.

Kris’s escort for tonight included Private Zenger, who was just a slip of a woman. The .44 would have looked like a cannon on her. It was replaced with a very authoritative .38. Somewhere out of sight behind Kris’s back, some wag suggested that if you could mix the two of them up and pour them out, you would get two mighty fine women.

Since Kris would gladly trade half her net worth to have just half of what Cindy Lu had in her bra, it didn’t sound like all that bad an idea.

Still, Kris judiciously ignored the comment. No doubt, some NCO gave the joker a look that froze any further comments about the princess they would be guarding tonight.

Kris drew her .44, checked it . . . it was loaded . . . made sure the safety was on and her finger was nowhere near the trigger, then held it out at arm’s length. If she had to, she could use it, though only having six rounds would be a handicap. She’d qualified at OCS with a .45. How different could it be?

They landed on a dry lakebed, several miles from what might pass for a town. At least it had several buildings, and they were well lit up.

The runway was lit, and parked in rows were quite a few aircraft, ranging from small prop jobs to four-engine planes capable of handling a hundred people or more. The lander looked like a hawk at a sparrow convention. Course, Kris had witnessed many sparrows driving hawks away from the sparrows’ nests.

Kris glanced around and saw no land transportation.

“Should we have brought our own rigs?” Kris muttered to herself just as something with one headlight came barreling around the end of the nearest flight line.

“We gonna ride a motorcycle,” came from somewhere among her escort before Kris said it herself. And saved her from saying it as the deepening dusk revealed a truck with one headlight out.

A vehicle that had never come off the assembly line of any major manufacturer rolled to a stop in front of Kris. The hood and front windshield looked familiar. There were three rows of seats behind it under the open sky that looked like they’d come from three different sources. Behind that was a truck bed made from wood and wire.

Still, the engine hummed, the brakes did their job with authority, and, no doubt, this collection of junk flying in loose formation met the needs of its driver.

“You Princess Longknife?” a young man of maybe eighteen asked.

“I answer to that name when I have to,” Kris said.

“Then you and your friends pile in. I’m late for the hoedown, and if my girl ain’t missing me, I’m going to be brokenhearted.”

Kris took the middle front seat, with Jack holding on to the outside. Holding on with whitened knuckles. There was no door on that side.

The Marines boarded the next two seats with expressed bravado and suppressed trepidation. There was a coin toss to see who got to share a seat with Cindy Lu. The other female Marine was broad at the hip and looked fully capable of throwing any and maybe all of the male Marines. That was great in a fight, but in a narrow seat with no doors, and no seat belts . . . not so good.

As soon as all were aboard, the kid took off in a cloud of dust.

There was no actual road, or even trail, leading away from the airstrip, just a collection of ruts that were used more often than the rest of the prairie.

Despite mumbled fears and a few desperate shouts, there was only one casualty of the trip. A jackrabbit which, when caught in the headlight, chose to freeze when it should have bolted.

“The buzzards will take kindly to that,” was the boy’s only comment. He only slowed down when they drove into town.

He pulled up to a well-lit barn, the largest barn Kris had ever seen, and, campaigning on South Continent, she’d toured some pretty big farming facilities.

This barn was huge.

It had also been swept clean of anything left behind by its former occupants and fairly shone in the light.

The dancing had begun. A band composed mainly of fiddles and guitars plunked away, with one fellow loudly calling out things that made no sense to Kris but seemed to keep several groups of dancers pretty much doing the same thing.

Kris’s driver let out a yelp and made a beeline for a certain someone sitting out the dance against the wall with a few other couples of the same age. After hugs and other greetings, the eight of them headed for the dance floor and were soon flowing along with the music no different from the rest.

That left Kris a full minute to contemplate the local folk dance before she spotted three middle-aged couples bearing down on her with the intent and purpose of a battle line in full sail.

Kris allowed herself a shallow sigh . . . and prepared herself for war by other means.

They also fight who only socialize. With full apologies to Milton or whoever it was she was misquoting.

Kris smiled through introductions and answered the inevitable question from one matron. “No, I’m not married. No, I’m not engaged.” She managed not to add “No, I’m not even hooked up, though there is this cute Iteeche I’m hanging out with,” before the woman dismissed herself to hurry off and arrange the inevitable parade of potential bridegrooms.

Kris was unable to break away from the others and their inane social chitchat . . . though she tried . . . until the match-maker was headed back toward Kris with a line of dazed young men in tow.

At least most were dazed.

Three of them had clear intent in their eyes. Apparently the size of Kris’s trust fund had made the papers. Kris could always spot certain types by the dollar signs in their eyes.

Nelly, see Those Three.

Yes, Kris.

Warn Me WHENEVER one of THEM GETS close.

Yes, MA’AM.

“So you are the Kris Longknife I’ve heard so much about,” came in a deep baritone.

Kris turned her back on the approaching line of young male meat to face a rather distinguished man with a heavy dose of salt in his jet-black hair. His face was tanned and lined by years in the sun, but the hand he offered her was firm to her shake. He met her grip solid for solid without threatening to turn it into an arm-wrestling contest. That happened to Kris occasionally when she met a man pressure for pressure.

“I’m guilty as charged, sir.”

“I’m Jim Austin tonight. Duke Austin when I’m up at the state house.”

“Ah, my great-grandfather told me about you,” Kris said.

Actually, King Ray hadn’t said a word about anyone. But he’d included this guy, along with all major players on Texarkana, in his briefing paper. Kris was experienced with great men like him, though, and would gladly add an extra ego stroke if he wanted to believe it. From the size of his smile, she knew he’d enjoy passing the lie along to his wife and not be at all upset if she turned it loose to all the back-fence gossips on the planet.

“And I’ve heard a lot about you. And seen you on the vids and just about everywhere people talk about the up-and-coming youth today.”

“You’re very kind. I hope you won’t hold all that against me. Much of it is not true, as Captain Montoya can testify.”

“I was usually there, but most of my wounds have healed,” Jack said, shaking the offered hand.

“Then let us talk about what is true and what is merely a bum rap,” the duke said, and led Kris away from the woman eagerly waiting to inflict on this princess from Wardhaven all the eligible bachelors present.

With a joyful heart, Kris walked with him.

Until he started talking.

“Strange things are going on. We got laws here against aircraft buzzing cattle or landing your plane just anywhere you want. One loud noise can stampede a whole herd and run a year’s worth of meat off their bones.”

“I can imagine,” Kris said, though she’d never given it much thought. Any thought.

“Yep, it can. Now we got strange airplanes buzzing around, and one of our cowhands is missing.”

“Probably just took a wrong turn,” Kris said. “Bet you he shows up in a couple of days with a wild tale about being kidnapped by aliens.”

“He better not have been kidnapped by some wild gang of union kids that borrowed their papa’s airplane and thought it would be fun to chase a herd of cows.”

Kris had feared that the duke fellow had figured out what she’d been up to that afternoon and was obliquely trying to tell her so. Boy had she gotten him wrong. He was all for forming up a posse and heading off to the big city to get back the fellow she had locked away three hundred kilometers above his head.

For a peacekeeper, Kris was starting on the wrong foot.

Well, at least she was keeping Iteeche from scaring the meat off his cattle.

“I’m headed up to Denver tomorrow. I’ll look into this for you.”

“Think you could? Maybe they’d give you a peace offering. Though, I tell you, their kids need a good trip to the woodshed.”

“Somebody does,” Kris agreed. And dodged the nudge Jack gave her in the ribs.

“How long you going to be here?” the duke asked.

“I don’t know,” Kris admitted.

“You going to land anyone from your ship? Most ship captains don’t hang around Texarkana very long. They tell me the zero gravity is bad for their crews.”

“It is,” Jack agreed. “Bad for my Marines, too.”

“How many Marines you got? More than these six I see riding night guard around us?”

“The Wasp is an exploration ship, Your Grace,” Kris explained. “I have about a hundred scientists and close to that many Marines and sailors.”

“Woo, wee, Princess, you do carry a big enough stick to knock a few heads, don’t you.”

“We managed to stop a filibustering expedition that was set on taking over a planet,” Kris said. “Not that the folks on Pandemonium needed all that much help. Still, they were glad for a hand from a few Royal U.S. Marines.”

“I heard tell about that. Sounded like a lot of fun. Nobody’d dare try anything funny with Texarkana,” he said, patting the holstered pistol at his side. It looked bigger than Kris’s .44. When Abby passed Kris her pistol, she’d have sworn nothing could be larger that wasn’t a rifle.

Kris just nodded.

“Anyway, about all that zero-gee time your folks are going to spend while you’re here. You see, I got this ski resort place up in the mountains. Not much skiing this time of year, so I was wondering if you’d like to rent it. Cheap. Most of the hands are following the herds just now, but I imagine I could rustle up a few to help tend bar, change the beds.”

Kris glanced at Jack. He actually looked enthusiastic about something for the first time since the Iteeche had boarded.

“We got bartenders,” Kris said, “and most of our people know how to change their own beds. What do you say that we take over the place, empty as it is and run it ourselves? It might actually be better.”

“How’s that?”

“You know, a sailor likes to have a girl in every port. Some of my scientists are kind of young, too.” Which was such a lie. “Let a couple of them lose their hearts to some of the pretty girls I see sashaying around the dance floor, and I could lose some of my best boffins. Some of your tenderhearted girls might wind up pregnant and waving good-bye to the cad that did it.”

“Not if her daddy has a shotgun up his backside.”

Definitely Kris wanted the place as empty as she could get it. “Do I need to have my procurement officer meet with someone on your staff?”

“No, no,” he said, holding out his hand. “If five thousand dollars a day sounds just fine by you, we can shake on it, and you can be dropping your folks down to a lovely vacation tomorrow.”

He’s way OVERCHARGING. I’M CHECKING The RATES of The local LODGING places, AND This PLANET is really cheap. Don’T know WHAT IT’S like in WINTER, BUT SUMMer RATES are DIRT cheap.

“Two thousand,” Kris said.

“Oh my, you are Al Longknife’s little girl, aren’t you. Four thousand.”

“Three thousand,” Kris said, sticking out her hand.

He shook it. “You will be needing victuals and spirits. I’ll send someone around tomorrow to fill up the cold house and all.”

“Feel free to do that, but you might warn him that he’ll be negotiating with my computer, and she’s already checking the prices on what we’ll need against what’s advertised online.”

“He’s gonna have to cover the cost of shipping it to hell and nowhere. And it’s up in the mountains, too.”

Kris did a quick flip. Did she want to be known as a hard bargainer? Would her mission be helped if this fellow was bought and in her pocket? Would buying someone so obviously eager to be bought put her in bad odor with other locals who did have moral scruples?

“We’ll see how it goes. I haven’t even seen this place.”

“You’ll love it. Clear mountain air. The trees up there smell wonderful. I’m told they’re just like Earth pines.”

Kris had had enough of politics. The lineup of young men, at least the ones who had hung on through this haggling, were starting to look downright good.

She broke away in their direction with a smile, and soon was learning the fine art of square dancing.

It wasn’t long before Jack had offers from some of the local gals to show him how the dancing went. He picked up on it real fast.

It was much later in the evening when Duke Travis introduced himself to Kris. Three steps behind him was Juliet. Missing from her face was the smile Kris had always seen there. Missing from her elbow was the likely explanation. No Bob DuVale.

“The king sent you to straighten out our industrialist problem?” Travis asked with no preamble.

“My great-grandfather asked me to come here and look the situation over,” Kris agreed.

“Like you did on Eden and Turantic.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t say much about those places. Insurance claims are still before the courts, and my lawyers don’t think I should comment publicly,” she said, not letting her smile waver. “However, Grampa did suggest that I try not to start a war this trip.”

Juliet’s smile stopped just this side of a giggle. Seeing her smile again was worth the scowl her grandfather shot Kris.

“It’s the industrialists who are causing all the trouble. We had a good thing going before they came here. And they wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t for Ray Longknife.”

“Let me see,” Kris said, seeming to count on her fingers. “It’s been eighty years since the war. The settlement of Texarkana started about fifty years before the war. Seems to me that you two have been sharing this place for a lot longer than you haven’t.”

“We didn’t ask for them. Ray Longknife dropped them in our lap.”

“So, you were in favor of them staying on New Cleveland and maybe getting massacred like the folks on LeMonte. I don’t remember Texarkana doing a lot during the war.”

“We made our contribution, and you better remember that.”

“Remember what?”

“That men from Texarkana fought with your great-grandfather during the war.”

“I never forget what the valiant vets did for all of us during the war,” Kris said, mouthing the words she’d learned at her father’s knee during early political campaigns.

She finished talking to Travis’s back. But Juliet came up beside Kris.

“You know what he was talking about?” Kris asked.

“I think he means Great-grandpa Skiev. He went off to the war and never came back.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. Nobody ever talks about it.”

“Nelly, can you tell us anything about a Skiev who died in the war?”

“There’s a Sergeant Arnold E. Skiev carried on the company rolls of the only unit to deploy from Texarkana. He did die.”

“How?” both girls asked.

“He was hanged,” Nelly whispered.

“Hanged,” Kris said with a gulp.

“The local records do not explain why, but the company was under General Longknife’s command at the time, and I expect his signature was on the death warrant.”

Nelly, why WOULDGRAMPA Ray HAVE SIGNED a DEATH WARRANT?”

Kris, The only reasons They EXECUTED anyone DurING The war were for MURDER, rape, or RUNNING in The face of The ENEMY. AND IT HAD To Be PRETTY EGREGIOUS for THEM To apply a CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

“Juliet, it’s possible that my great-grandfather may have approved the execution of your great-grandfather.”

“I hope not,” Juliet said. “ ’Cause if he did, you and I would be in a blood feud.”

“Blood feud?”

“Yeah, I’d have to whip out my trusty six-shooter and shoot you dead.”

Jack started edging toward Juliet. One of the Marines spotted the senior Travis and positioned himself between him and Kris.

“But not to worry,” Juliet went on. “If the local records don’t record anything, I don’t have to take up the vendetta. No sweat.”

“Right. No sweat. It would be a shame to mess up all the fun we had on Wardhaven with a shoot-out back here,” Kris said, and started backing away.

Nelly, WHAT’S This VENDETTA THING?

OLD PRACTICE FROM EARTH. No one can JUDGE anyone EXCEPT The HEAD of The FAMILY. If anyone FROM OUTSIDE of The FAMILY kills anyone FROM The FAMILY, EVERYONE in The FAMILY is BOUND To seek REVENGE.

BUT WHAT ABOUT The official JUDGMENT of COURTS?

This PREDATES COURTS AND WRITTEN laws. There are SOME THINGS like BLOOD price AND EXILE THAT can SOFTEN IT, BUT The FACT There’s no DOCUMENTATION as To why ARNOLD SKIEV was HANGED LEADS Me To CONCLUDE THAT The FAMILY Does NOT ACCEPT General LONGKNIFE’S FINDINGS AND Does NOT WANT THEM PUBLISHED.

So, is IT safe for Me To walk AROUND here?

I Don’T know, Kris.

Suddenly a whole lot less interested in dancing, Kris went looking for one of the party’s hostesses to make her excuses.

“Sorry to leave so early. I’ve got a long flight back up to the ship, and I’ve got several early meetings before I drop down tomorrow to see the Duke of Denver.”

The nice lady smiled and said she understood. The smile looked a bit painted on. Maybe she really did understand.

Finding a ride for her team ended up being none too easy. She finally divided her Marines between two comfortable pickup trucks arranged by the foremen of Rancho A. Apparently, he was the second-most-powerful man after the Duke of Austin.

“I understand you rented the ski lodge from the duke.”

Kris admitted she had.

“I’ll see about getting linens and chow shipped out to you tomorrow. The boss talks a fine story, but it usually takes a herd of ranch hands to clean up after him.”

“It looks like he’s got a competent man to do that.”

“I’ll thank you for those kind words, ma’am. I also have to tell you that the boss is a very gentle soul. He might not have put the iron to the calf as hard as it needs to be done, ma’am.”

“Iron to the calf?”

“Yes, ma’am. What you got to understand is that there’s a lot of good hands and a lot of good guns that like things the way they are here. Texarkana is special. We don’t like the idea of it changing. You got to remember that real hard when you talk to folks that want to mess things up,” he said. And as he said it, his smile was hard and his hand gently patted the butt of the six-shooter on his hip.

“I think I understand where you’re coming from,” Kris said, letting no commitment leak into her words.

It was a quiet ride back to the airstrip after that.

As soon as the shuttle hatch was down and locked, Jack blocked Kris’s path. “I’m not letting you go back down again into this madhouse.”

“The king gave me an assignment,” Kris answered, sidestepping Jack to her seat.

“If he’d known he was plopping you into the middle of a blood feud with a major chunk of this planet, I’m sure he would never have sent you here! And I’m sure he’ll change your orders as soon as I bring this significant detail to his attention.”

“He’s got enough on his plate right now,” Kris said, belting in as the shuttle started moving.

“Nothing is as important as his great-granddaughter’s life.” The Marine’s shout was lost to the throaty roar of three antimatter engines going to full power.

Those had to be about the only thing that will drown out a Marine officer or NCO.

Kris leaned back in her seat and tried to enjoy the flight up to the Wasp. Her little battle with Jack would only be the first round of a war she’d have to win before she dropped down to Denver tomorrow.

But win it she would.

A quick call to Captain Drago and Professor mFumbo brought both of them to the docking bay by the time her liberty launch arrived.

Jack glared at them . . . at her . . . and then listened in silence as the three of them discussed the rental of the ski lodge.

“Thank God,” the professor breathed. “It’s getting to where you can hardly breathe in boffin country, the air is so thick with the last meal.”

“I would have thought your people would have quit eating,” Jack said.

“Hope springs eternal,” mFumbo said, patting his own belly. “Can we send shuttles down tonight?”

“The place is closed down for the season,” Jack put in. “No snow, no skiing. We need to wait for daylight to do anything.”

“Yes,” Drago agreed, “but I can drop a shuttle down tonight to look the place over. I had this photo blown up from our last pass,” he added, unrolling a hard copy of a very attractive and rustic compound of smaller châteaus scattered around a huge lodge. “It looks in very good repair.”

Just as she’d hoped, the professor and the skipper had joined her conspiracy to get a solid placement on Texarkana. Well, she was looking out for the best interests of their downtrodden workers.

Jack threw Kris a nasty look before he glanced at the map. Clearly, at least one of her erstwhile subordinates was not impressed. “What about its approaches?” he demanded.

“I can project a wider area map,” came from his collar.

“Thank you, Sal,” he said, and a map appeared in the air in front of them.

“There is only one road in and out,” the computer said helpfully, and highlighted said road in red. “It is at least a twenty-mile hike over mountains from any other road. It appears quite isolated to me.”

“It does to me, too,” Kris said.

“Can we land a shuttle there?” Jack asked.

“The parking lot extends into an airstrip,” Captain Drago put in. “I’ve checked the field and lot. We can do it if we don’t overload the shuttles and keep their approach speed down. It’s doable.”

“So, Jack, how heavy do you want the Marines to go for this little bit of shore leave?” Kris asked.

“Can I drop them in full battle gear?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I’ve already invaded this planet once. If I do it twice in two days, it will start to look like a habit.”

“And we do want to go light on the shuttle runs,” Drago reminded them.

“We could just do extra runs with loaded Marines,” Jack insisted.

“I don’t know how many landings we can make down there before the runway starts to show the wear and tear,” the captain said.

“I could leave half a platoon on overwatch from up here, drop them loaded if I need them,” Jack muttered.

“But time in zero gee is muscle,” Kris pointed out. It was a basic lesson in ship handling from OCS.

“Damn it, woman, I know that.”

Kris knew he did. She shut up.

“Okay, we’ll keep one squad of Marines on guard aboard ship, supporting your stay-behind crew.” Captain Drago nodded.

“The rest get shore leave at the lodge, weapons and one base load of ammo, no crew-served weapons. You happy, Lieutenant!”

“Your plan seems reasonable,” Kris said. “If, upon reflection, you want to make any changes, please let me know.

“Now, it’s been a busy day. Tomorrow, I have another batch of no doubt howling-mad locals to try to make sense of. Good night, gentlemen.”